Part 16 (1/2)

”I believe that is what the famous Bussy d'Amboise said when he was warned not to keep his appointment with Mme. de Monsoreau,” returned Blaise; ”yet he was, none the less, killed by the rascals that lay in ambush with her husband.”

”Thanks to the most kingly King of France, Henri III., who advised M. de Monsoreau to force his wife to make the fatal appointment with Bussy.

Thanks, also, to the truly grateful Duke of Anjou, who rewarded Bussy for his faithful service by concurring in the plot for his a.s.sa.s.sination.”

”The Duke was worse than the King, for the King has been loyal to his chosen favorites. Think of the monument he erected in honor of De Quelus, and the others who got their deaths in that great duel in the horse-market. _Par dieu!_ I should like to have seen those girl-men of the King and those Guisards killing one another!”

”I have observed, Blaise, that you take an extraordinary pleasure in the slaughter of Guisards.”

”I was in Coligny's house, monsieur, on the night of the St. Bartholomew.

I was one of those who, at the Admiral's command, fled to the roof, and from the roof of the next house I saw Coligny's body thrown into his courtyard, and the Duke of Guise turn it over with his foot and wipe the blood from the face to see if it were indeed my old captain's. Since then, the sight of the white cross of Guise stirs in me all the h.e.l.l that my diabolical father transmitted to me. And I should not like to see you fall into the hands of this Chatre, who is the right arm of the Duke of Guise in Berry. That is why I give heed to the premonition that troubles me regarding this journey.”

”Certainly we cannot abandon the journey.”

”No, but we can take unusual precautions, monsieur. Reports of our doings are everywhere. Has it never occurred to you that you are, in appearance, exactly the sort of man who would be taken for our leader? Ought you not to disguise yourself?”

”An excellent idea, Blaise! I shall put on your clothes, and you shall put on mine,--I shall pa.s.s as your lackey. It will be quite amusing.”

”That is not the disguise I should have suggested,” said Blaise, looking not too well pleased with the idea. ”It would require me to pa.s.s as a gentleman.”

But I saw possibilities of fun in the thing, and welcomed any means of enlivening our excursion. Therefore, we dismounted at G.o.deau's inn, and made the exchange of attire, much against the liking of Blaise, who now repented of having advised any disguise at all. My clothes were a little too tight for Blaise, for I was of medium size, and he puffed and turned red in the face, and presented a curious appearance of fierceness and discomfort. When I looked at him, I could not help laughing, and he met my glance with a grim and reproachful countenance. I did not think that his brown doublet and breeches and brown felt hat and feather were much disguise for me. As we rode along, I diverted myself by trying to a.s.sume a servile mien, which did not easily fit my rather bold face, prominent nose, keen gray eyes, up-curling brown mustache and pointed brown beard.

With his curly reddish hair and beard, defiant mustache, honest, big, blue eyes, swelling red cheeks, and robust body, Blaise looked like one who must have had his dignities thrust upon him very recently.

We reached, without accident, our destination,--the chateau of the Baron d'Equinay,--and that gentleman was speedily won by the a.s.surances that I bore him from Henri of Navarre. He desired, before starting for Guienne, to go to Paris, where he had resources, and he rode off northward at the same moment when we departed southward to return to Maury.

”It is well!” I cried to Blaise, as we rode in the bracing air of the October morning. ”We have carried our King's message to every one of his chosen adherents in Berry. We ride through the province of M. de la Chatre, breathe his fresh air, absorb his suns.h.i.+ne as freely as he does himself. You see how reliable were your premonitions when we last set out from Maury.”

”It is not too late yet, monsieur,” growled Blaise, whose temper was ill while he wore my clothes; ”we are not yet back at Maury.”

”You will talk less dismally over a bottle of good wine, Blaise.

Therefore, I intend to stop at the first inn on the way. I hope it is a good one, for I am very hungry.”

”There is an inn at this end of Fleurier,” said Blaise, ”but I would not stop if I were you.”

But I was not to be moved from my intention. When a man has finished a set task, it is time to eat and drink. Therefore, we stopped at the little inn at the northern edge of Fleurier. A gray, bent innkeeper, very desirous of pleasing, welcomed us and went to look after our horses, while Blaise, acting the part of master, ordered a black-eyed, pretty inn-maid to serve us dinner in a private chamber. The room a.s.signed us was at the head of a stairway leading from the kitchen. We had no sooner seated ourselves than our ears were a.s.sailed by the clatter of many horses on the road outside. They stopped before the inn, and we heard the voices of two men who entered the kitchen, and of a great number who remained without. When the inn-maid brought us a bottle of wine, Blaise asked her whose cavalcade it was that waited before the inn.

”It is that of the governor of the province, M. de la Chatre,” said she, ”who is below with his secretary, M. de Montignac.”

And she left the room in haste to help serve so distinguished a guest.

CHAPTER VIII.

A SWEET LADY IN DISTRESS

Blaise looked at me solemnly, with a face that seemed to say, ”Did I not warn you?” We had seated ourselves at either side of a small, rough table, I on the edge of the bed, Blaise on a three-legged stool. For a moment I sat returning Blaise's gaze across the table; then noticing that the maid had left the door of our chamber slightly ajar, I arose and walked stealthily to the crack, through which I could see a part of the kitchen below. Blaise remained seated at the table, glumly watching me.

I saw the maid bearing wine to a table near the window, where sat the two guests whose names she had mentioned. The landlord was carrying a tray full of bottles and drinking-cups out to La Chatre's men, who remained before the inn, some having dismounted, some still on horse. I could hear their talk, their oaths and cries to one another and to their horses, the snorts and pawings of their steeds. A shout of welcome greeted the coming of the landlord with the wine.

With curiosity I fastened my gaze on the two at the table. I knew instantly that the stout, erect, authoritative gentleman with the carefully trimmed gray beard, full cheeks, proud brow, fearless eyes, and soldierly air, must be Claude de la Chatre, governor of the Orleannais and Berri; and that the slender, delicately formed, sinuous, graceful youth with smooth-shaven face, fine sharply cut features, intelligent forehead, reddish hair, intent gray eyes, and mien of pretended humility, was the governor's secretary, Montignac. La Chatre's look was frank, open, brave. Montignac had the face of a man a.s.suming a character, and awaiting his opportunity, concealing his ambition and his pride, suppressing the scorn that strove to disclose itself at the corners of his womanish mouth. La Chatre wore a rich black velvet doublet and breeches, and black leather riding-boots. Montignac was dressed, in accordance with his pretence of servility, in a doublet of olive-colored cloth, breeches of the same material, and buff boots. He sat entirely motionless, looking across the table at his master with an almost imperceptibly mocking air of profound attention.