Part 4 (1/2)

”But the Queen! Perhaps----”

”There is no perhaps about it. The Queen asked De Lorgnac to find her an agent, and he has named you.”

”I was going to say that if the Queen finds I am bourgeois----”

”We can leave the matter of a coat-of-arms to the Queen.” And he laughed as he continued: ”Perhaps that may come to the plain Monsieur Broussel--and--it has just gone compline, and we, or rather you, must see the Queen.”

”I am ready,” I said.

”Then let us be away! Everything has gone well. The King has left for Fontainebleau to hunt the boar. He started this afternoon; Madame Diane is with him. The royal children are at St. Germain-en-Laye, and but for its guards the Louvre is deserted; there is no one here but the Queen. Come, then!”

With a whistle to the ape, which hopped along in front of us, he opened the door and pa.s.sed out, I following on his heels. Outside, we found ourselves in a maze of twisting pa.s.sages, along which my guide went with quick, light steps. Finally, we turned into an arched doorway, and, ascending a stair, stood on the roof of one of the galleries connecting the wings of the Louvre with the great keep.

The twilight was dead, but the moon was rising in a clear, cloudless sky. By her light we walked along the lonely battlements until we reached a flight of steps, upon which the shadow of the Philippine fell darkly. Arrived at the head of the steps we gained an embattled balcony, giving access, by means of a lancet arch, into the keep.

Through this we pa.s.sed, and entered a long, low corridor. So low, indeed, that by raising the baton he carried in his hand Le Brusquet, though not a tall man, could easily reach the joints of the groined roof. Here we stood for a s.p.a.ce, where a banner of moonlight lay on the floor--the ape a dark spot in its whiteness. All was silent as the grave. Once there was a startling rush of wings as a homing-pigeon flew past the open arch and hissed off into the night. All was in semi-gloom, except where the moon lit the floor at our feet, and where, at intervals, a dim yellow halo marked the spot where a feeble lamp was burning in a niche set far back in the huge walls.

”And this leads to the Queen's apartment,” whispered Le Brusquet, with a shrug of his shoulders, as he led the way along the gallery, which curved with the shape of the keep. On rounding the curve it came to an abrupt ending. Here a lamp swung by a chain from the roof, and by its light we dimly saw before us a large door, firmly closed, and seeming to bar all further progress. Near the door a man was seated in an alcove in the wall, his knees almost up to his chin, his drawn sword in his hand. He swung round on to his feet as we came up. It was De Lorgnac.

”The Queen awaits you,” he said, without further greeting, and tapped twice at the door. It was opened at once, and both Le Brusquet and myself were about to step in when De Lorgnac laid his hand on the former's arm.

”M. Broussel alone,” he said, drawing Le Brusquet back, and I pa.s.sed through the door.

I found myself in a small ante-chamber; but there was not a soul within. I stood for a moment irresolute, when the door behind me opened once again, and I heard De Lorgnac's voice.

”Onwards! Through the curtains ahead of you.”

This I did, and entered a large room, richly furnished. The light, bright though soft, of the tall candles burning in grotesque holders fell on the curtains of violet velvet, starred with the golden lilies of France, on the rare tapestry, that covered the walls, on embroidered cus.h.i.+ons and quaint carvings. There were flowers in abundance everywhere; but their scent was killed by something that burned in a cup held by a little bronze Ganymede, the odour of which filled the room with a sweet but heavy scent. This room, like the other, was likewise empty, and after glancing round twice to make sure, I took my stand near a table, upon which there were some writing materials and a pair of richly embroidered gloves. The sight of the gloves brought old Camus back to my mind, and I was about to take one up, to look at the workmans.h.i.+p, when I heard a footfall; the curtains were set aside, and a woman stood before me.

It was Catherine de Medicis herself. It was years since I had seen her, then a young girl; but now, though still young, she was in the bloom of ripened womanhood. People said that, with all her accomplishments, she lacked courage, and was dull and stupid. As my glance rested on the pale features, on the somewhat sullen mouth, and on the dark, expressionless eyes before me, I began to think they were right. To-day, however, I was also to begin learning a new lesson.

Others have since learned it too, and paid for the learning as lessons have never been paid for before or after. She let fall the curtain she held as I sank on one knee before her and extended me a shapely hand.

As I touched it with my lips she said in her deep-toned voice:

”M. Broussel, arise!”

I did so, and, moving towards the chair near the table, she sat down, and began toying with one of the gloves, her eyes not meeting my look, but surveying me with a swift sidelong glance.

”_Eh bien_!” she said, ”you are that M. Broussel who came so opportunely to the rescue of my cousin of Vendome.”

I bowed, and with another of her swift glances she asked:

”And you are to be trusted?”

”Your Majesty,” I said, ”I have but my word to offer for this--I have none who will add his pledge to mine.”

”No one? Are you sure?”

”Your Majesty, it is as I have said.”