Part 18 (1/2)
The burly rascal saluted the mounted gentleman, saying, in a coa.r.s.e, strident voice:
”At your service, M. le Vicomte de Berquin.”
”Know your place, Barbemouche!” was the quick reply. ”I am talking with a gentleman.”
Then I remembered the morning after my flight from Paris, seven years before. Montignac's reckless-looking companion had been the gay gentleman going north, at whom I had looked from an inn shed. The other was the man who had afterwards chased me southward at the behest of the Duke of Guise. But he no longer wore on his hat the white cross of Lorraine, and the Vicomte de Berquin's apparel was no longer gay and spotless. The two had doubtless fallen on hard ways. Both showed the marks of reverses and hard drinking. Barbemouche's sword was, manifestly, no longer in the pay of the Duke of Guise, but was ready to serve the first bidder.
Barbemouche shrugged his shoulders at De Berquin's reproof, and led his three sorry-looking companions to a bench in front of the inn, where they searched their pockets for coin before venturing to cross the threshold.
Montignac now pointed to the inn, spoke a few last earnest words to Berquin, handed the latter a few gold pieces, cast at him a threatening look at parting, and galloped off to rejoin M. de la Chatre, whose cavalcade was now out of our sight. De Berquin gave him an ironical bow, kissed the gold pieces before pocketing them, dismounted, and entered the inn, replying only with a laugh to the supplicating looks of the moneyless Barbemouche and his hungry-looking comrades on the bench.
”Now I wonder what in the devil's name the governor's secretary was saying to that man?” growled Blaise Tripault.
For reply, I gave a look which reflected the surmise that I saw in Blaise's own eyes.
”Well,” I said, ”if it be that, the Vicomte de Berquin will be a vastly ingenious gentleman if he can either find our hiding-place, or delude me away from my men. To think that they should have chosen the first mercenary wretch they met on their way! Yet doubtless the perspicacious Montignac knows his man.”
”The secretary pointed to this inn as if he were telling him that you were here,” observed Blaise, meditatively.
”But inasmuch as the secretary does not know that I am here,” said I, ”his pointing to the inn could not have accompanied that information. He was doubtless advising his friend to begin his enterprise with a hearty meal, which was very good advice. And now, as this Vicomte de Berquin does not know me by sight, let us go down and make his acquaintance.
Remember that you are the master, and make a better pretence of it than you have usually made.”
”I pretend the master no worse than you pretend the servant,” muttered Blaise, while I opened the door of our chamber. A moment later we were descending the stairs leading to the kitchen.
An unexpected sight met our eyes. M. de Berquin stood with his back to a rear door, his arms extended, as if to prevent the departure of the lady, who stood facing him, in the att.i.tude of shrinking back from him. She still wore her mask. Beside her stood her maid, who darted looks of indignation at the smiling De Berquin. These three were the only ones in the kitchen.
”I do not know you, monsieur!” the lady was saying, in a low voice of great beauty.
”Death of my life! But you shall know me, mademoiselle,” replied De Berquin, who had not noticed the entrance of myself and Blaise; ”for I intend to guard you from harm on the rest of your journey, whether you will or not!”
Blaise shot at me a glance of interrogation. To keep up our a.s.sumed characters, it was for him, not me, to interfere in behalf of this lady; yet he dared not act without secret direction from me. But I forgot our pretence and hastened forward, my hand on my sword-hilt.
”I fear monsieur is annoying mademoiselle,” I said, gently, a.s.suming that De Berquin had been correct in addressing her as mademoiselle.
Startled at the voice of a newcomer, the three turned and looked at me in surprise. Blaise, at a loss as to what he ought to do, remained in the background.
”But,” I added, ”monsieur will not do so again for the present.”
De Berquin took me in at a glance, and, deceived by my dress, said carelessly, ”Go to the devil!” Then, turning from me to Blaise, as one turns from an inferior to an equal, he remarked:
”You have a most impudent servant, monsieur!”
Blaise, embarra.s.sed by the situation, and conscious that the curious eyes of the lady and the maid were upon him, could only shrug his shoulders in reply. The maid, whom he had so much admired, turned to her mistress with a look of astonishment at his seeming indifference. Seeing this, Blaise became very red in the face.
It was I who answered De Berquin, and with the words:
”And your servant, if you have one, has a most impudent master.”
De Berquin turned pale with rage at the insulting allusion to his somewhat indigent appearance.