Part 2 (1/2)
A little distance from us lay the Seine, s.h.i.+ning in scales of hammered bra.s.s. The convicts were still on the Gloriette. Poor wretches! They slaved there day and night, and lights were moving to and fro amongst them as the guards watched them at their toil. They were singing a weird refrain--a chorus--ever and again interrupted by yells and curses as the lash of the task-master fell on some victim of his hatred or sluggard at work.
”Here we part, Monseigneur!” I said. ”The lieutenant of the Chatelet will give you guards to escort you farther.”
I bowed to both, and would have gone--for I thought it well not to be mixed up further in this matter--but the Duke stayed me. He had taken off his glove, and was fumbling with a ring on his finger. This he drew off and thrust into my hand.
”Keep this, monsieur. Remember, if ever you want a friend you have but to send it to me. Farewell!”
”_Au revoir_!” cried Le Brusquet, who had up to now preserved silence.
”Remember, Le Brusquet is also your debtor doubly--once for a life and once for a sword--and forget not my address is the sign of the Crescent.”
With this mocking allusion to the Louvre and to Diane de Poitiers'
influence there, he followed on the heels of Vendome, leaving me with the ring in my hand.
I watched them until they were lost in the s.h.i.+vering haze. They never sought the Gloriette, but kept on the right, making directly for the Louvre.
Then I looked at the ring. It was light enough for me to see that it was a plain gold signet in the shape of a s.h.i.+eld, with the arms of Bearn--two cows on a field _Or_--cut thereon.
”Perhaps,” I said to myself, ”I shall need it some day.” With this I slipped it on my finger, and went back.
CHAPTER III
MY PYRAMID OF CARDS COMES DOWN
I may say at once that in this chronicle it often befalls that I have to describe the actions and deal with the motives of others. In doing this I have given no rein to idle fancy, but have strictly followed what those who played a part in my life have told me.
To show that my authorities in this respect are beyond reproach I have but to mention the names of my friends--Blaise Ste. Marie de Lorgnac, now, as all know, the Marechal Duc de Lorgnac; and Nicholas d'Ayen, Sieur de Besme, of the Quercy, who acted so strange a part in his day under the name of Le Brusquet. Each of these is prepared on his faith, as knight and gentleman, to support my words, either on foot or on horseback, with sword or with lance, and in this respect I too am ready to cross a blade, or run a course; and so, G.o.d defend the Truth!
If further proof is needed I beg leave to refer to the confession of the Italian, Torquato Trotto, made at his expiation, which gives many and curious details, especially of what happened in Le Jaquemart, and which is registered in the archives of the Parliament of Paris, where all who list may see it. There is yet one other whom I could name, one who is ever at my side, and who for good or for ill has taken me as part of her life; but for the present the names I have cited are sufficient, and I shall say no more on the subject.
On returning to my apartment after leaving Vendome and Le Brusquet I found old Camus at the door awaiting me. He entered with me, saying:
”I watched it all from the window. Hey! but it was well done!”
I pretended to take no notice of this remark, and pressed some refreshment upon him; but the old rascal refused, and sat with his knee between his hands, rocking himself backwards and forwards. He went on to make some roundabout inquiries as to who the persons were to whose a.s.sistance I had gone, but I told him plainly that I did not desire to discuss the subject.
Becoming nettled at this, he said: ”Ho! ho! and so you do not trust me, Monsieur Broussel! Well, I tell you I know at any rate who it is that lies dead out there, for I have been to see, and it will not take long for me to find out the rest.”
”Go and find out, then!” I said somewhat roughly, being annoyed in my turn.
At which he rose in a white heat. ”That I will,” he said; ”and you will find that the hand of Madame Diane, soft as it is, can grip hard--hard, mind you, Monsieur Broussel!”
With this he flung out; and so we, who but an hour or two ago were in friendly converse, parted in anger, and with stormy words.
In a manner I was not sorry for this, for in my heart I always felt a warning against him, and there was something so ominous, so evil, in his face as he left that I felt a.s.sured he would strike a felon blow at the first opportunity.
The more I reflected on what had happened, and on Camus' threat in connection with Diane de Poitiers, the more I began to see a crop of dangers ahead of me. I began to think it well to retire to some other city. In this I was influenced by the fact that, if there were trouble about the dead man and I were involved in it, as after Camus' words I felt I should certainly be, it was hardly possible that I could escape being recognised.
The sentence against me, cruel and unjust as it was, stood still, and, once I was discovered, it would be put into force for certain.