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  IN KINGS' BYWAYS

  BYSTANLEY J. WEYMANAUTHOR OF"A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE," "THE CASTLE INN," "COUNT HANNIBAL," ETC.

  LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.91 AND 93 FIFTH AVENUE, NEW YORK1902

  COPYRIGHT, 1902, BYSTANLEY J. WEYMAN

  _All rights reserved._

  * * * * *

  BY STANLEY J. WEYMAN

  THE HOUSE OF THE WOLF. A Romance. With Frontispiece and Vignette. Crown8vo, cloth, $1.25.

  THE STORY OF FRANCIS CLUDDE. A Romance. With four Illustrations. Crown8vo, $1.25.

  A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE. Being the Memoirs of Gaston de Bonne, Sieur deMarsac. With Frontispiece and Vignette. Crown 8vo, cloth, $1.25.

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  * * * * *

  A DAUGHTER OF THE GIRONDE

  _Page 326_]

  CONTENTS

  PART I

  PAGE

  FLORE, 1

  CRILLON'S STAKE, 51

  FOR THE CAUSE, 86

  THE KING'S STRATAGEM, 131

  THE HOUSE ON THE WALL, 152

  HUNT THE OWLER, 177

  THE TWO PAGES, 194

  PART II

  THE DIARY OF A STATESMAN

  EPISODE OF THE FOWL IN THE POT, 213

  EPISODE OF THE BOXWOOD FIRE, 238

  EPISODE OF THE SNOWBALL, 266

  PART III

  KING TERROR

  A DAUGHTER OF THE GIRONDE, 295

  IN THE NAME OF THE LAW, 329

  PART I

  IN KINGS' BYWAYS

  FLORE

  (1643)

  It was about a month after my marriage--and third clerk to the mostnoble the Bishop of Beauvais, and even admitted on occasions to write inhis presence and prepare his minutes, who should marry if I mightnot?--it was about a month after my marriage, I say, that thethunderbolt, to which I have referred, fell and shattered my fortunes. Irose one morning--they were firing guns for the victory of Rocroy, Iremember, so that it must have been eight weeks or more after the deathof the late king, and the glorious rising of the Sun of France--and whoas happy as I? A summer morning, Monsieur, and bright, and I had all Iwished. The river as it sparkled and rippled against the piers of thePont Neuf far below, the wet roofs that twinkled under our garretwindow, were not more brilliant than my lord the Bishop's fortunes: andas is the squirrel so is the tail. Of a certainty, I was happy thatmorning. I thought of the little hut under the pine wood at Gabas inBearn, where I was born, and of my father cobbling by the unglazedwindow, his nightcap on his bald head, and his face plaistered where thesherd had slipped; and I puffed out my cheeks to think that I hadclimbed so high. High? How high might not a man climb, who had marriedthe daughter of the Queen's under-porter, and had sometimes the ear ofmy lord, the Queen's minister--my lord of Beauvais in whom all men sawthe coming master of France! my lord whose stately presence beamed on aworld still chilled by the dead hand of Richelieu!

  But that morning, that very morning, I was to learn that who climbs mayfall. I went below at the usual hour; at the usual hour Monseigneurleft, attended, for the Council; presently all the house was in anuproar. My lord had returned, and called for Prosper. I fancied eventhen that I caught something ominous in the sound of my name as itpassed from lip to lip; and nervously I made all haste to the chamber.But fast as I went I did not go fast enough; one thrust me on this side,another on that. The steward cursed me as he handed me on to thehead-clerk, who stormed at me; while the secretary waited for me at thedoor, and, seizing me by the neck, ran me into the room. "In, rascal,in!" he growled in my ear, "and I hope your skin may pay for it!"

  Naturally by this time I was quaking: and Monseigneur's looks finishedme. He stood in the middle of the chamber, his plump handsome face paleand sullen. And as he scowled at me, "Yes!" he said curtly, "that is thefellow. What does he say?"

  "Speak!" the head-clerk cried, seizing me by the ear and twisting ituntil I fell on my knees. "Imbecile! But it is likely enough he did iton purpose."

  "Ay, and was bribed!" said the secretary.

  "He should be hung up," the steward cried, truculently, "before he doesfurther mischief! And if my lord will give the word----"

  "Silence!" the Bishop said, with a dark glance at me. "What does heplead?"

  The head-clerk twisted my ear until I screamed. "Ingrate!" he cried. "Doyou hear his Grace speak to you? Answer him aloud!"

  "My lord," I cried piteously, "I do not know of what I am accused. Andbesides, I have done nothing! Nothing!"

  "Nothing!" half a dozen echoed. "Nothing!" the head-clerk addedbrutally. "Nothing, and you add a cipher to the census of Paris!Nothing, and your lying pen led my lord to state the population to befive millions instead of five hundred thousand! Nothing, and you senthis Grace's Highness to the Council to be corrected by low clerks andpeople, and made a laughing-stock for the Cardinal, and----"

  "Silence!" said the Bishop, fiercely. "Enough! Take him away, and----"

  "Hang him!" cried the steward.

  "No, fool, but have him to the courtyard, and let the grooms flog himthrough the gates. And have a care you," he continued, addressing me,"that I do not see your face again or it will be worse for you!"

  I flung myself down and would have appealed against the sentence, butthe Bishop, who had suffered at the Council and whose ears still burned,was pitiless. Before I could utter three words a dozen officious handsplucked me up and thrust me to the door. Outside worse things awaitedme. A shower of kicks and cuffs and blows fell upon me; vainlystruggling and shrieking, and seeking still to gain his lordship's ear,I was hustled along the passage to the courtyard, and there dragged amidjeers and laughter to the fountain, and brutally flung in. When Iscrambled out, they thrust me back again and again: until, almost deadwith cold and rage, I was at last permitted to escape, only to be huntedround the yard with stirrup-leathers that cut like knives, and drew ascream at every stroke. I doubled like a hare; more than once I knockedhalf a dozen down; but I was fast growing exhausted, when some one moreprudent or less cruel than his fellows, opened the gates before me, andI darted into the street.

  I was sobbing with rage and pain, dripping, ragged, and barefoot; forsome saving rogue had prudently drawn off my shoes in the scuffle. Itwas a wonder that I was not fallen upon and chased through the streets.Fortunately in the street opposite my lord's gates opened the mouth of alittle alley. I plunged into it, and in the first dark corner droppedexhausted and lay sobbing and weeping on
a heap of refuse. I who hadrisen so happily a few hours before! I who had climbed so high! I whohad a wife new-married in my garret at home!

  I do not know how long I lay there, now cursing the jealousy of theclerks, who would have flayed me to save themselves, and now the crueltyof the grooms who thought it fine sport to whip a scholar. But the firsttempest of passion had spent itself, when a woman--not the first whom myplight had attracted, but the others had merely shrugged their shouldersand passed on--paused before me. "What a white skin!" she cried, makinggreat eyes at me; and they had cut my clothes so that I was half bare toher. And then, "You are not a street-prowler. How come you here, my lad,in that guise?"

  I was silent, and pretended to be sullen, being ashamed to meet hergaze.

  She stood a moment staring at me curiously. Then, "Better go home," shesaid, shaking her head sedately, "or those who have robbed you may endby worse. I doubt not this is what comes of raking and night-work. Gohome, my lad," she repeated, and went on her way.

  Home! The word raised new thoughts, new hopes, new passions. I scrambledto my feet. I had a home--the Bishop might deprive me of it: but I hadalso a wife, from whom God only could separate me. I felt a sudden firerun through me at the thought of her, and of all I had suffered since Ileft her arms: and with new boldness I turned, and sore and aching as Iwas, I stumbled back to the place of my shame.

  The steward and two or three of his underlings were standing in thegateway, and saw me approach; and began to jeer. The high grey front ofMonseigneur's hotel, three sides of a square, towered up behind them;the steward in the opening sprawled his feet apart and set his hands tohis stout sides, and jeered at me. "Ha! ha! Here is the lame leper fromthe Cour des Miracles!" he cried. "Have a care or he will give you theitch!"

  "Good sir, the swill-tub is open," cried another, mocking me. "Helpyourself!"

  A third spat at me and bade me begone for a pig. The passers--there werealways a knot of gazers opposite my lord of Beauvais' palace in thosedays, when we had the Queen's ear and bade fair to succeedRichelieu--stayed to stare.

  "I want my goods," I said, trembling.

  "Your goods!" the steward answered, swelling out his brawny chest, andsmiling at me over it. "_Your_ goods, indeed! Begone, and be thankfulyou have escaped so well."

  "Give me my things--from my room," I said stubbornly; and I tried toenter. "They are my own!"

  He moved sideways so as to block the passage. "Your goods? They areMonseigneur's," he said.

  "My wife, then!"

  He winked, the great beast. "Your wife?" he said. "Well, true; she isnot Monseigneur's. But she will do for me." And with a coarse laugh hewinked again at the crowd.

  At that the pent-up rage which I had so long stemmed broke out. He stooda head taller than I, and a foot wider; but with a scream I sprang athis throat, and by the very surprise of the attack and his unwieldiness,I got him down and beat his face with my fists. His fellows, as soon asthey recovered from their astonishment, tore me off, showing me nomercy. But by that time I had so marked him that the blood poured downhis fat cheeks. He scrambled to his feet, panting and furious, his oathstripping over one another.

  "To the Chatelet with him!" he cried, spitting out a tooth and staringat me through the mud on his face. "He shall swing for this! He tried tobreak in. I call you to witness he tried to break in!"

  "Ay, to the Chatelet! To the Chatelet!" cried the crowd, siding with thestronger party. He was my lord of Beauvais' steward; I was agutter-snipe and dangerous. A dozen hands held me tightly; yet not sotightly, but that, a coach passing at that moment and driving us all tothe wall, I managed by a jerk--I was desperate by this time, and savageas a wild-cat--to snatch myself loose. In a second I was speeding downthe Rue Bons Enfants with the hue and cry behind me.

  I have said, I was desperate. In an hour the world was changed for me.In an hour I had broken with every tradition of safe and modest andclerkly life; and from a sleek scribe was become a ragged outlaw flyingthrough the streets. I saw the gallows, I felt the lash sink like moltenlead into the quivering back, still bleeding from the stirrup-leathers:I forgot all but the danger. I lived only in my feet, and with them madesuperhuman efforts. Fortunately the light was failing, and in the dusk Idistanced the pack by a dozen yards. I passed the corner of the PalaisRoyal so swiftly that the Queen's Guards, though they ran out at thealarm, were too late to intercept me. Thence I turned instinctively tothe left, and with the cry of pursuit in my ears strained towards theold bridge, intending to cross to the Cite, where I knew all the lanesand byways. But the bridge was alarmed, the Chatelet seemed to yawn forme--they were just lighting the brazier in front of the gloomy pile--anddoubling back, while the air roared with shouts of warning and cries of"Stop thief! Stop thief!"--I evaded my pursuers, and sped up the narrowRue Troussevache, with the hue and cry hard on my heels.

  I had no plan now, no aim; only terror added wings to my feet. The endof that street gained I darted blindly down another, and yet another;with straining chest, and legs that began to fail, and always in my earsthe yells that rose round me as fresh pursuers joined in the chase.Still I kept ahead, I was even gaining; with night thickening, I mighthope to escape, if I could baffle those who from time to time--but in ahalf-hearted way, not knowing if I were armed--made an attempt to stopme or trip me up.

  Suddenly turning a corner--I had gained a quiet part where blind wallslined an alley--I discovered a man running before me. At the sameinstant the posse in pursuit quickened their pace in a last effort; I,in answer, put forth my last strength, and in a dozen paces I came upwith the man. He turned to me, our eyes met as we ran abreast; desperatemyself, I read equal terror in his look, and before I could think whatit might mean, he bent himself sideways as he ran, and with a singularmovement flung a parcel he carried into my arms. Then wheeling abruptlyhe plunged into a side-lane on his left.

  It was done in a moment. Instinctively I caught the burden: but theimpetus with which he had passed it to me, sent me reeling to theright, and the lane being narrow, I fell against the wall before I couldsteady myself. As luck would have it, that which should have destroyedme, was my salvation; I struck the wall where a door broke it, the door,lightly latched, flew open under the impact, I fell inwards. I alighted,in darkness, on my hands and knees, heard the stifled yelp of a dog, andin a second, though I could see nothing, I was up and had the doorclosed behind me.

  Then I listened. Panting and breathless, I heard the hunt go ravingthrough the lane, and the noise die in the distance; until only thebeating of my heart broke the close silence of the darkness in which Istood. When this had lasted a minute or two, I began to peer and wonderwhere I was; and remembering the dog I had heard, I moved stealthily tofind the latch, and escape. As I did so, the bundle, to which throughall I had clung--instinctively, for I had not thought of it--moved in myarms.

  I almost dropped it; then I held it from me with a swift movement ofrepulsion. It stirred again, it was warm. In a moment the truth flashedupon me. It was a child!

  Burning hot as I had been before, the sweat rose on me at the thought.For I saw again the man's face of terror, and I guessed that he hadstolen the child, and I feared the worst. He had mistaken the rabblehooting at my heels for the avengers of blood, and had been only toothankful to rid himself of the damning fact, and escape.

  And now I had it, and had as much, or more, to fear. For an instant theimpulse to lay the parcel down, and glide out, and so be clear of it,was strong upon me. And that I think is what the ordinary clerk, beingno hero, nor bred like a soldier to risk his life, would have done. Butfor one thing, I was desperate. I knew not, after this, whither to go orwhere to save myself. For another thing my clerk's wits were alreadybusy, showing me how with luck I might use the occasion and avoid therisk; how with luck I might discover the parents and without sufferingfor the theft, restore the child. Beyond that I saw an opening vista ofpardon, employment and reward.

  Suddenly, the dog whined again, close to me; and that decided me.
I hadfound the latch by this time, and warily I drew the door open. In amoment I was in the lane, looking up and down. I saw nothing to alarmme; darkness had completely fallen, no one was moving, the neighbourhoodseemed to be of the quietest. I made up my mind to take the bold course:to return at all hazards to the Rue St. Honore, seek my father-in-law atthe gates of the Palais Royal--where he had the night turn--and throwthe child and myself on his protection.

  Without doubt it was the wisest course I could adopt. In those days thestreets of Paris, even in the district of the Louvre and Palais Royal,were ill-lighted; a network of lanes and dark courts encroached on themost fashionable parts, and favoured secret access to them, and Iforesaw no great difficulty, short of the moment when I must appear inthe lighted lodge and exhibit my rags. But my evil star was still abovethe horizon. I had scarcely reached the end of the lane; I was stillhesitating there, uncertain which way to turn for the shortest course,when a babel of voices broke on my ear, lights swept round a distantcorner, and I found myself threatened by a new danger. I did not wait toconsider. These people, with their torches and weapons, might havenaught to do with me. But my nerves were shaken, the streets of Pariswere full of terrors, every corner had a gallows for me--and I turnedand, fleeing back the way I had come, I made a hurried effort to findthe house which had sheltered me before. Failing, in one or two trials,and seeing that the lights were steadily coming on that way, and that ina moment I must be discovered, I sprang across the way, and dived intothe side-lane by which the child-stealer had vanished.

  I had not taken ten steps before some object, unseen in the darkness,tripped me up, and I fell headlong on the stones. In the fall my burdenrolled from my arms; instantly it was snatched up by a dark figure,which rose as by magic beside me, and was gone into the gloom almost asquickly. I got up gasping and limping, and flung a curse after the man;but the lights already shone on the mouth of the lane in which I stood,and I had no time to lose if I would not be detected. I set off runningdown the passage, turned to the left at the end, and along a secondlane, thence passed into another and a wider road; nor did I stop untilI had left all signs and sounds of pursuit far behind me.

  The place in which I came to a stand at last--too weak to run anyfarther--was a piece of waste land, in the northern suburbs of the city.High up on the left I could discern a light or two, piercing the gloomof the sky; and I knew they shone from the wind-mills of Montmartre. Inevery other direction lay darkness; desolation swept by the night wind;silence broken only by the dismal howling of far-off watch-dogs. I mighthave been ten miles from Paris: even as I was a thousand miles from theman who had risen so happily that morning.

  For very misery I sobbed aloud. I did not know exactly where I was; norhad I known, had I the strength to return. Excitement had carried mefar, but suddenly I felt the weakness of exhaustion, and sick and achingI craved only a hole in which to lie down and die. Fortunately at thismoment I met the wind, and caught the scent of new-mown hay: stumblingforward a few steps with such strength as remained, I made out a lowbuilding looming through the night. I staggered to it; I discovered thatit was a shed; and entering with my hands extended, I felt the hay undermy feet. With a sob of thankfulness I took two steps forward and sankdown; but instead of the soft couch I expected, I fell on the angularbody of a man, who with a savage curse rose and flung me off.

  This at another time would have scared me to death; but I was so fargone in wretchedness that I felt no fear and little surprise. I rolledaway without a word, and curling myself up at a distance of a few feetfrom my fellow-lodger, fell in a minute fast asleep.

  When I awoke, daylight, though the sun was not up, was beginning tocreep into the shed. I turned, every bone in my body ached: the weals ofthe stirrup-leathers smarted and burned. I remembered yesterday'sdoings, and groaned. Presently the hay beside me rustled, and over theshoulder of the mass against which I lay I made out the face of a man,peering curiously at me. I had not yet broken with every habit ofsuspicion, nor could in a moment recollect that I had nothing but ragsto lose; and I gazed back spellbound. In silence which neither broke byso much as a movement we waited gazing into one another's eyes; whilethe light in the low-roofed hovel grew and grew, and minute by minutebrought out more clearly the other's features.

  At length I knew him, and almost at the same moment he recognized me;uttering an oath of rage, he rose up as if to spring at my throat. Buteither because I did not recoil--being too deep-set in the hay tomove--or for some other reason, he only shook his claw-like fingers atme, and held off. "Where is it, you dog?" he cried, finding his voicewith an effort. "Speak, or I will have your throat slit. Speak; do youhear? What have you done with it?"

  He was the man who had passed the child to me! I watched him heedfully,and after a moment's hesitation I told him that it had been taken fromme, and I told him when and where.

  "And you don't know the man who took it?" he screamed.

  "Not from Adam," I said. "It was dark."

  In his disappointment and rage, at receiving the answer, I thought againthat he would fall upon me: but he only choked and swore, and then stoodscowling, the picture of despair. Until, some new thought pricking him,he threw up his arms and cried out afresh. "_Oh, mon dieu_, what a foolI was!" he moaned. "What a craven I was! I had a fortune in my hands,and, fool that I was, I threw it away!"

  I thought bitterly of my own case--I was not much afraid of him now, forI began to think that I understood him. "So had I, yesterday morning,"I said, "a fortune. You are in no worse case than others."

  "Yesterday morning!" he exclaimed. "No, last night. Then, if you like,you had. But yesterday morning? Fortune and you, scarecrow? Go hangyourself."

  He looked gloomily at me for a moment with his arms crossed on hischest, and his face darkly set. Then "Who are you?" he asked.

  I told him. When he learned that the rabble that had alarmed him, had infact been pursuing me--so that his fright had been groundless--he brokeinto fresh execrations: and these so violent that I began to feel a sortof contempt for him, and even plucked up spirit to tell him that look asdisdainfully as he might at me, he seemed to be in no better case.

  He looked at me askance at that. "Ay, as it turns out," he said grimly."In worse case, if you please. But see the difference, idiot. You are apoor fool beaten from pillar to post; at all men's mercy, and naught toget by it; while I played for a great stake. I have lost, it is true! Ihave lost!" he continued, his voice rising almost to a yell, "and we areboth in the gutter. But if I had won--if I had won, man----"

  He did not finish the sentence but flung himself down on his face in thehay, and bit and tore it in his passion. A moment I viewed him withcontempt, and thought him a poor creature for a villain. Then the skirtof his coat, curling over as he grovelled and writhed, disclosedsomething that turned my thoughts into another channel. Crushed underhis leather girdle was a little cape, or a garment of that kind, ofvelvet so lustrous that it shone in the dark place where I saw it, asthe eyes shine in a toad. Nor it only: before he rolled over and hid itagain, I espied embroidered on one corner of the velvet a stiff goldcrown!

  It was with difficulty that I repressed a cry. Cold, damp, aching, Ifelt the heat run through me like wine. A crown! A little purple cape!And taken beyond doubt from the infant he had stolen last night! Thenlast night--last night I had carried the King! I had carried the King ofFrance in my arms.

  I no longer found it hard to understand the man's terror of yesterday;or his grief and despair of this morning. He had indeed played for agreat stake; he had risked torture and the wheel; death in its mosthorrible form. And that for which he had risked so much he hadlost!--lost!

  I looked at him with new eyes, and a sort of wonder: and had scarcelytime to compose my face, when, the paroxysm of his fury spent, he rose,and looking at me askance, to see how I took his actions, he asked mesullenly whither I was going.

  "To Monseigneur's," I said cunningly: had I answered, "To the PalaisRoyal," he would have suspected me.

/>   "To the Bishop's?"

  "Where else?"

  "To be beaten again?" he sneered.

  I said nothing to that, but asked him whither he was going.

  "God knows," he said. "God knows!"

  But when I went out, he accompanied me; and we slunk silently, like thepair of night-birds we were, through lanes and alleys until we werefairly in town again. By that time the sun was up and the market peoplewere beginning to enter the city. Here and there eyes took curious noteof my disorder: and thinking of the company I was in, I trembled, andwondered that the alarm was not abroad and the bells proclaiming us fromevery tower. I was more than content, therefore, when my companion atthe back of the Temple halted before a small door in a blind wall. Overagainst it stood another small door in the opposite wall.

  "Do you stay here?" I said.

  He swore churlishly. "What is that to you?" he said, looking up anddown. "Go your way, idiot."

  I was glad to affect a like ill-humour, shrugged my shoulders, andlounged on without looking back. But my brain was on fire. The King! Thefour-year-old King! What was I to do? To whom to go with my knowledge?And then--even then, while I paused hesitating, I heard steps runningbehind me, and I turned to find him at my elbow. His face was pale, buthis eyes burned with eagerness, and his whole demeanour was changed.

  "Stay!" he cried panting; and then seizing me peremptorily by the breastof my shirt, "the man who tripped you up, fellow--you did not see him?"

  "It was dark," I answered curtly. "I told you I did not know him fromAdam."

  "But had he--" he gasped, "you heard him run away--was he lame?"

  I could not repress an exclamation. "_Par dieu!_" I said. "Yes, I hadforgotten that. I think he was. I remember I heard his foot gocluck--clack, cluck--clack as he ran."

  His face became burning red, and he staggered. If ever man was neardying from blood in his head, it was that man at that moment! But aftera while he drew a long breath, and got the better of it, nodded to me,and turned away. I marked, however--for I stood a moment, watching--thathe did not go back to the door at which I had left him: but afterlooking round once and espying me standing, he took a lane on the rightand disappeared.

  But I knew or thought that I knew all now; and the moment he was out ofsight, I set off towards the Palais Royal like a hound let loose,heeding neither those against whom I bumped in the straiter ways, northe danger I ran of recognition, nor the miserable aspect I wore in myrags. I forgot all, save my news, even my own wretchedness; and neverhalted or stayed to take breath until I crept panting into the doorwayof the lodge at the Palais, and met my father-in-law's look of disgustand astonishment.

  He was just off the night turn, and met me on the threshold. I sawbeyond him the grinning faces of the under-porters. But I had that totell which still upheld me. I threw up my hands.

  "I know where they are!" I cried breathlessly. "I can take you to them!"

  He gazed at me, dumb for the moment with surprise and rage; anddoubtless a less reputable son-in-law than I appeared, it would havebeen hard to find in all Paris. Then his passion found vent. "Pig!" hecried. "Jackal! Gutter-bird! Begone! I have heard about you! Begone! orI will have you flayed!"

  "But I know where they are! I know where they have him!" I protested.

  His face underwent a startling change. He stepped forward with animbleness wonderful in one of his bulk, and he caught me by the collar."What," he said, "have you seen the dog?"

  "The dog?" I cried. "No, but I have seen the King! I have held him in myarms! I know where he is."

  He released me suddenly, and fell back a pace, looking at me so oddlythat I paused. "Say it again," he said slowly. "You have held the----"

  "The King! The King!" I cried impatiently. "In these arms. Last night! Iknow where they have him, or at least--where the robbers are."

  His double chin fell, and his fat face lost colour. "Poor devil!" hesaid, staring at me like one fascinated. "They have took his senses fromhim."

  "But--" I cried, advancing, "are you not going to do anything?"

  He waved me off, and retreating a step, crossed himself. "Jacques!" hesaid, speaking to one of the porters, but without taking his eyes offme, "move him off! Move him off; do you hear, man? He is not safe!"

  "But I tell you," I cried fiercely, "they have stolen the King! Theyhave stolen his Majesty, and I--have held him in my arms. And Iknow----"

  "There, there, be calm," he answered. "Be calm, my lad. They have stolenthe Queen's dog, that is true. But have it your own way if you like,only go. Go from here, and quickly, or it will be the worse for you; forhere comes Monseigneur the Bishop to wait on her Majesty, and if he seesyou, you will suffer worse things. There, make way, make way!" hecontinued, turning from me to the staring crowd that had assembled."Way, for Monseigneur the Bishop of Beauvais! Make way!"

  As he spoke, the Bishop in his great coach turned heavily out of theRue St. Honore, and the crowd attending him eddied about the Palaceentrance. I was hustled and swept out of the way, and fortunatelyescaping notice, found myself a few minutes later crouching in a lanethat runs beside the church of St. Jacques. I was wolfing a crust ofbread, which one of the men with whom I had often talked in the lodgehad thrust into my hand. I ate it with tears: in all Paris, that day,was no more miserable outcast. What had become of my little wife I knewnot; and I dared not show myself at the Bishop's to ask. Myfather-in-law, I feared, was hardened against me, and at the bestthought me mad. I had no longer home or friend, and--this at the momentcut most sharply--the gorgeous hopes in which I had indulged a fewmoments before were as last year's snow! The King was not lost!

  I crouched and shivered. In St. Antoine's, at the mouth of the lane, aman was beating a drum preparatory to publishing a notice; andpresently his voice caught my attention in the middle of mylamentations. I listened, at first idly, then with my mind."Oyez! Oyez!" he cried. "Whereas some evil person, having no fearof God or of the law before his eyes, has impudently, feloniously,and treasonably stolen from the Palais Royal, a spaniel, the propertyof the Queen-Regent's most excellent Majesty, this is to say, that anyone--rumble--rumble--rumble"--here a passing coach drowned somesentences--after which I caught--"five hundred crowns, the same to bepaid by Monseigneur the Bishop of Beauvais, President of the Council!"

  "And glad to pay it," snarled a voice, quite close to me. I started andlooked up. Two men were talking at a grated window above my head. Icould not see their faces.

  "Yet it is a high price for a dog," the other sneered.

  "But low for a queen. Yet it will buy her. And this is Richelieu'sFrance!"

  "Was!" the other said pithily. "Well, you know the proverb, my friend.'A living dog is better than a dead lion.'"

  "Ay," his companion rejoined, "but I have a fancy that _that_ dog's nameis spelt neither with an F for Flore--which was the whelp's name, was itnot?--nor a B for Beauvais; nor a C for Conde; but with an M----"

  "For Mazarin!" the other answered sharply. "Yes, if he find the dog. ButBeauvais is in possession."

  "Rocroy, a hit that counted for Conde shook him; you may be sure ofthat."

  "Still he is in possession."

  "So is my shoe in possession of my foot," was the keen reply. "Andsee--I take it off. Beauvais is tottering, I tell you; tottering. Itwants but a shove, and he falls."

  I heard no more, for they moved from the window into the room; but theyleft me a different man. It was not so much the hope of reward as thedesire for vengeance that urged me; my clerk's wits returned once more,and in the very desperation of my affairs gave me the courage Isometimes lacked. I recognized that I had not to do with a King, but adog; but that none the less that way lay revenge. And I rose up andslunk again into the main street and passed through the crowd and up theRue St. Martin and by St. Merri, a dirty, ragged, barefoot rascal fromwhom people drew their skirts; yes, all that, and the light of the sunon it--all that, and yet vengeance itself in the body--the hand thatshould yet drag my cruel master's _fauteuil_ from under
him.

  Once I halted, weighing the risks and whether I should take my knowledgedirect to the Cardinal and let him make what use he pleased of it. But Iknew nothing definite, and hardening my heart to do the work myself, Iwent on, until I found again the alley between the blind walls where Ihad left the dog-stealer. It was noon. The alley was empty, theneighbouring lane at the back of the Filles Dieu towards St. Martin'swas empty. I looked this way and that and slowly went down to the doorat which the man had halted in his despair; but to which, as soon as heknew that the game was not lost, he had been heedful not to return whileI watched him.

  There, seeing all so quiet, with the green of a tree showing here andthere above the dead wall, I began to blench and wonder how I was totake the next step. And for half an hour, I dare say, I sneaked to andfro, now in sight of the door and now with my back to it; afraid toadvance, and ashamed to retreat. At length I came once more through thealley, and, seeing how quiet and respectable it lay, with the upper partof a house visible at intervals above the wall, I took heart of graceand tried the door.

  It was so firmly closed, that I despaired; and after looking to assuremyself that the attempt had not been observed, I was going to move away,when I espied the edge of a key projecting from under the door. Stillall was quiet. A stealthy glance round, and I had out the key. To drawback now was to write myself craven all my life; and with a shaking handI thrust the wards into the lock, turned them, and in another momentstood on the other side of the door in a neat garden, speckled withsunshine and shade, and where all lay silent.

  I remained a full minute, flattened against the door, staring fearfullyat the high-fronted mansion that beyond the garden looked down on mewith twelve great eyes. But all remained quiet, and observing that thewindows were shuttered, I took courage to move, and slid under a treeand breathed again.

  Still I looked and listened, fearfully, for the silence seemed to watchme; and the greenness and orderliness of the place frightened me. Butnothing happened, and everything I saw went to prove that the house wasempty. I grew bolder then, and sneaking from bush to bush, reached thedoor and with a backward glance between courage and desperation triedit.

  It was locked, but I hardly noticed that; for, as my hand left thelatch, from some remote part of the house came the long-drawn whine of adog!

  I stood, listening and turning hot and cold in the sunshine; and darednot touch the latch again lest others should hear the noise. Instead, Istole out of the doorway, and crept round the house and round the houseagain, hunting for a back entrance. I found none; but at last, goaded bythe reflection that fortune would never again be so nearly within mygrasp, I marked a window on the first floor, and at the side of thehouse; by which it seemed to me that I might enter. A mulberry-treestood by it, and it lacked bars; and other trees veiled the spot. To bebrief, in two minutes I had my knee on the sill, and, sweating withterror--for I knew that if I were taken I should hang for a thief--Iforced in the casement, and dropped on the floor.

  There I waited a while, listening. I was in a bare room, the door ofwhich stood ajar. Somewhere in the bowels of the house the dog whinedagain--and again; otherwise all was still--deadly still. But I hadrisked too much to stand now; and in the end, emboldened by the silence,I crept out and stole along a passage, seeking the way to the lowerfloor.

  The passage was dark, and every board on which I stepped shrieked thealarm. But I felt my way to the landing at the head of the stairs, and Iwas about to descend, when some impulse, I know not what--perhaps ashrinking from the dark parts below, to which I was about to trustmyself--moved me to open one of the shutters and peer out.

  I did so, cautiously, and but a little--a few inches. I found myselflooking, not into the garden through which I had passed, but into theone over the way, beyond the alley, and there on a scene so strange andyet so apropos to my thoughts, that I paused, gaping.

  On a plat of grass four men were standing, two and two; between them,with nose upraised and scenting this way and that, moved a beautifulcurly-haired spaniel, in colour black and tan. The eyes of all four menwere riveted to the dog; which, as I looked, walked sedately first tothe one pair, and then, as if dissatisfied, to the other pair; and thenagain stood midway and sniffed the air. The men were speaking, but Icould not catch even their voices, and I was reduced to drawing whatinferences I could from their appearance.

  Of the two further from me, one was my rascally bed-fellow; the otherwas a crooked villain, almost in rags, with a leg shorter than itscomrade, yet a face bold and even handsome. Of the nearer pair, who hadtheir backs to me, the shorter, dressed in black, wore the ordinaryaspect of a clerk, or confidential attendant; but when my eyes travelledto his companion, they paused. He, it was plain to me, was the chief ofthe party, for he alone stood covered; and though I could not see hisface nor more of his figure than that he was tall, portly, and of veryhandsome presence, it chanced that as I looked he raised his hand to hischin, and I caught on his thumb, which was white as a woman's, thesparkle of a superb jewel.

  That dazzled me, and the presence of the dog puzzled me; and I continuedto watch, forgetting myself. Presently the man again raised his hand,and this time it seemed to me that an order was given, for the lame manstarted into action, and moved briskly across the sward towards the wallwhich bordered the garden on my side--and consequently towards the housein which I stood. Before he had moved far my companion of the nightinterposed; apparently he would have done the errand himself. But at aword he stood sulkily and let the other proceed; who when he had all butdisappeared--on so little a thing my fortunes turned--below the level ofthe intervening walls, looked up and caught sight of me at the window.

  Apparently he gave the alarm; for in an instant the eyes of all fourwere on me. I hung a moment in sheer surprise, too much taken aback toretreat; then, as the lame man and his comrade sprang to the door in thewall--with the evident intention of seizing me--I flung the shutterclose, and, cursing my curiosity, I fled down the stairs.

  I had done better had I gone to the window by which I had entered, forall below was dark; and at the foot of the staircase, I stood, unable,in my panic, to remember the position of the door. A key grating in thelock informed me of this, but too late. On the instant the door opened,a flood of light entered, a cry warned me that I was detected. I turnedto reascend, but stumbled before I had mounted six steps, and as I triedto rise, felt a weight fall on my back, and the clutch of long fingersclose about my throat. I screamed, as I felt the fingers close in agrip, deadly, cold, and merciless--then in sheer terror I swooned.

  When I recovered my senses, I found myself propped in a chair, and for atime sat wondering, with an aching head, where I was. In front of me agreat door stood open, admitting a draught of summer air, and a flood ofsunshine that fell even to my feet. Through the doorway I looked ongrass and trees, and heard sparrows twitter, and the chirp of crickets;and I found all so peaceful that my mind went no further, and it wasonly after some minutes that I recognized with a sharp return of terror,that turned me sick, that I was still in the hall of the empty house.That brought back other things, and with a shudder I carried my hand tomy throat and tried to rise. A hand put me back, and a dry voice said inmy ear, "Be easy, Monsieur Prosper, be easy. You are quite safe. But Iam afraid that in our haste we have put you to some inconvenience."

  I looked with a wry face at the speaker, and recognized him for one ofthose I had seen in the garden. He had the air of a secretary or--as hestood rubbing his smooth chin and looking down at me with a saturninesmile--of a physician. I read in his eyes something cold and not toohuman, yet it went no further. His manner was suave, and his voice, whenhe spoke again, as well calculated to reassure as his words were tosurprise me.

  "You are better now?" he said. "Yes, then I have to congratulate you ona strange chance. Few men, Monsieur Prosper, few men, believe me, wereever so lucky. You were lately I think in the service of Monseigneur theBishop of Beauvais, President of her Majesty's Council?"

  I fancied
that a faint note of irony lurked in his words--particularlyas he recited my late master's titles. I kept silence.

  "And yesterday were dismissed," he continued easily, disregarding myastonishment. "Well, to-day you shall be reinstated--and rewarded. Yourbusiness here, I believe, was to recover her Majesty's dog, and earn thereward?"

  I remembered that the wretch whose fingermarks were still on my throatmight be within hearing, and I tried to utter a denial.

  He waved it aside politely. "Just so," he said. "But I know your mind,better than you do yourself. Well, the dog is in that closet; and on twoconditions it is at your service."

  Amazed before, I stared at him now, in a stupor of astonishment.

  "You are surprised?" he said. "Yet the case is of the simplest. We stolethe dog, and now have our reasons for restoring it; but we cannot do sowithout incurring suspicion. You, on the other hand, who are known tothe Bishop, and did not steal it, may safely restore it. I need not saythat we divide the reward; that is one of the two conditions."

  "And the other?" I stammered.

  "That you refresh your memory as to the past," he answered lightly. "IfI have the tale rightly, you saw a man convey a dog to this house, anempty house in the Montmartre Faubourg. You watched, and saw the manleave, and followed him; he took the alarm, fled, and dropped in hisflight the dog's coat. I think I see it there. On that you hurried withthe coat to Monseigneur, and gave him the address of the house, and----"

  "And the dog!" I exclaimed.

  "No. Let Monseigneur come and find the dog for himself," he answered,smiling. "In the closet."

  I felt the blood tingle through all my limbs. "But if he comes, and doesnot find it?" I cried.

  The stranger shrugged his shoulders. "He will find it," he said coolly.And slightly raising his voice, he called "Flore! Flore!" For answer adog whined behind a door, and scratched the panels, and whined again.

  The stranger nodded, and his eyes sparkled as if he were pleased."There," he said, "you have it. It is there and will be there. And Ithink that is all. Only keep two things in mind, my friend. For thefirst, a person will claim our share of the reward at the proper time:for the second, I would be careful not to tell Monseigneur the Presidentof the Council"--again that faint note of irony--"the true story, lest aworse thing happen!" And the stranger, with a very ugly smile, touchedhis throat.

  "I will not!" I said, shuddering. "But----?"

  "But what?"

  "But I may not," I said faintly--I hated the Bishop--"I may not getspeech of Monseigneur. May I not then take the news to the Palais Royaland--and let the Queen know directly? Or go with it to the Cardinal?"

  "No, you may not!" he said, with a look and in a tone that sent a shiverdown my back. "The Cardinal? What has the Cardinal to do with it?Understand! You must do precisely that and that only which I have toldyou, and add not a jot nor a tittle to it!"

  "I will do it," I muttered in haste. My spite against the Bishop was asmall thing beside my neck. And there was the reward!

  "Good! Then--then, I think that is all," he answered, seeing in my face,I think, that I was minded to be obedient. "And I may say farewell.Until we meet again, adieu, Monsieur Prosper! Adieu, and remember!" Andsetting on his hat with a polite gesture, he turned his back to me, wentout into the sunlight, passed to the left, and vanished. I heard thegarden door close with a crash, and then, silence--silence, broken onlyby the faint whine of the dog, as it moved in its prison.

  Was I alone? I waited awhile before I dared to move; and even when Ifound courage to rise, I stood listening with a beating heart, expectinga footfall on the stairs or that something--I knew not what--would rushon me from the closed doors of this mysterious house. But the silenceendured. The sparrows outside twittered, the cricket renewed its chirp,and at length, drawing courage from the sunlight, I moved forward andlifted the dog's coat from the floor. I examined it: it was the one Ihad seen in the possession of the man in the shed. Five minutes later Iwas in the streets on my way to the Bishop's hotel, the parcel of velvettucked under my girdle.

  I have since thought that I did not fully appreciate at the moment themarvel that had happened to me. But by this time in truth I was nearlylight-headed. I went my way as a man moves in a dream, and even when Ifound myself at the door of the hotel, whence I had been so cruellyejected, I felt none of those qualms which must have shaken me had Ibeen sensible. I did not even question how I should reach Monseigneur,or get the news to him: which proves that we often delude ourselves withvain fears, and climb obstacles where none exist. For, as it happened,he was descending from his coach when I entered the yard, and though heraised his gold-headed staff at sight of me, and in a fury bade theservants put me out, I had the passion if not the wit to wave the velvetcoat in his face, and cry my errand before them all.

  Heaven knows at that there was such a sudden pause and about-face asmust have made even the stolen dog laugh had it been there. Monseigneurin high excitement bade them bring me in to him as soon as he wasshifted, the secretary whispered in my ear that he had a cloak thatwould replace the one I had lost, a valet told me that my wife was goneto her father's, a serving-man brought me food, and nudged me toremember him, while others ran and fetched me shoes and a cap; andall--all from the head-clerk, who was most insistent, downwards, wouldknow where the dog was, and how I came to know what I did.

  But I had even then the sense to keep my secret, and would tell my storyonly to the Bishop. He had me in, and heard it. In ten minutes he was inhis coach on his way to the Montmartre Faubourg, taking me with him.

  His presence and the food they had given me while I waited had soberedme somewhat; and I trembled as we went lest the man who had spared me onterms so strange had some disappointment yet in store for me, lest thecloset be found empty. But a whine, that grew into a long and melancholyhowl, greeted us on the threshold of the room whither I led them; andthe closet door being forced, in a trice the dog was out and amongst us.

  Monseigneur clapped his hands and swore freely. "_Dieu benisse!_" hecried. "It is the dog, sure enough! Here, Flore! Flore!" And as the dogjumped on us and licked his hand, he turned to me. "Lucky for you,rascal!" he cried, in great good humour. "There shall be fifty crowns inyour pocket, and your desk again!"

  I gasped. "But the reward, Monseigneur?" I stammered. "The five hundredcrowns?"

  He bent his black eyebrows. "Reward? Reward, villain?" he thundered. "DoI hear aright? Is it not enough that I spare you the gallows you richlyearned but yesterday by assaulting my servant? Reward? For what do I payyou wages, do you think, except to do my work? Are you not my servant?Go and hang yourself! Or rather," he continued grimly, "stir at yourperil. Look to him, Bonnivet, he is a rogue in grain; and bring him withme to the Queen's ante-chamber, Her Majesty may desire to ask himquestions, and if he answer them well and handsomely, good! He shallhave the fifty crowns I promised him. If not--I shall know how to dealwith him."

  At that, and the mean treachery of his conduct, I fell into my old rageagain, and even his servants looked oddly at him, until a sharp wordrecalled them to their duty; on which they hustled me off with littleceremony, and the less for that which they had before showed me. Whilethe Bishop, carrying the dog in his arms, mounted his coach and went bythe Rue St. Martin and the Lombards, they hurried me by short cuts andbyways to the Palais Royal, which we reached as his running footman camein sight. The approach to the gate was blocked by a great crowd ofpeople, and for a moment I was fond enough to imagine that they had todo with our affair--and I shrank back. But the steward, with a thrust ofhis knee against my hip, which showed me that he had not forgotten myassault upon him, urged me forward, and from what passed round me as wepushed through the press, I gathered that a score of captured colourshad arrived from Flanders within the hour, and were about to bepresented to the Queen.

  The courtyard confirmed this, for in the open part of it, and muchpressed upon by the curious who thronged the arcades, we found a troopof horse, plumed and dusty and travel-stained,
fresh from the Flandersroad. The officers who bore the trophies we overtook on the stairs nearthe door of the ante-chamber. Burning with resentment as I was, andstrung to the last pitch of excitement, I none the less remember that Ithought it an odd time to push in with a dog; but Monseigneur the Bishopdid not seem to see this. Whether he took a certain pleasure inbelittling the war-party, to whom he was opposed in his politics, ormerely knew his ground well, he went on, thrusting the _militaires_aside with little ceremony; and as every one was as quick to give placeto him, as he was to advance, in a moment we were in the ante-chamber.

  I had never been admitted before, and from the doorway, where I pausedin Bonnivet's keeping, I viewed the scene with an interest that for thefirst time overcame my sense of injustice. The long room hummed withtalk; a crowd of churchmen and pages, with a sprinkling of the lessernobility, many lawyers and some soldiers, filled it from end to end. Inone corner were a group of tradesmen bearing plate for the Queen'sinspection: in another stood a knot of suitors with petitions; whileeverywhere men, whose eager faces and expectant eyes were their bestpetitions, watched the farther door with quivering lips, or sighed whenit opened, and emitted merely a councillor or a marquis. Several times amasked lady flitted through the crowd, with a bow here and the honour ofher taper fingers there. The windows were open, the summer air entered;and the murmur of the throng without, mingling with the stir of talkwithin, seemed to add to the light and colour of the room.

  My lord of Beauvais, with his chaplain and his pages at his shoulder,was making in his stately way towards the farther door, when he met M.de Chateauneuf, and paused to speak. When he escaped from him a dozenclients, whose obsequious bows rendered evasion impossible, stilldelayed him. And I had grown cold, and hot again, and he was but halfwayon his progress up the crowded room, when the inner door opened, half adozen voices cried "The Queen! The Queen!" and an usher with a silverwand passed down the room and ranked the company on either side--notwithout some struggling, and once a fierce oath, and twice a smotheredoutcry.

  Of the bevy of ladies in attendance, only half a dozen entered; for afew paces within the doorway the Queen-Mother stood still to receive mypatron, who had advanced to meet her. It seemed to me that she was notbest pleased to see him at that moment; her voice rang somewhat loud andpeevish as she said, "What, my lord! Is it you? I came to receive thetrophies from Rocroy, and did not expect to see you at this hour."

  "I bring my own excuse, Madam," he answered, smiling and unabashed."Have I your Majesty's leave to present it?" he continued, with a smirkand a low bow.

  "I came to receive the colours," she retorted, still frowning. It seemedto me that he presumed a trifle on his favour; and either knew hisground particularly well, or was more obtuse than a clever man shouldhave been.

  For he did not blench. "I bring your Majesty something as much to yourliking as the colours!" he replied.

  Then I think she caught his meaning, for her proud Hapsburg face clearedwonderfully, and she clapped her hands together with a gesture ofpleasure almost childish. "What!" she exclaimed. "Have youfound--Flore?"

  "Yes, Madam," he said, smiling gallantly. He turned. "Bonnivet!" hesaid.

  But Bonnivet had watched his moment. Before the name fell clear of hismaster's lips, he was beside him, and with bent knee laid the dogtenderly at her Majesty's feet. She uttered a cry of joy and stooped tocaress it, her fair ringlets falling and hiding her face and her plumpwhite shoulders. On that I did not see exactly what happened; for herladies flocked round her, and all that reached me, where I stood by thedoor, took the form of excited cries of "Flore! Flore!" "Oh, thedarling!" and the like. A few old men who stood nearest the wall andfarthest from the Queen raised their eyebrows, and the officers standingwith the colours by the door, wore fallen faces and glum looks; butnine-tenths of the crowd seemed to be carried away by the Queen'sdelight, and congratulated one another as warmly as if ten Rocroys hadbeen won.

  At that moment, while I hung in suspense, expecting each moment to becalled forward, I heard a little stir at my elbow. Turning--I hadadvanced some way into the room--I found myself with others pushed asideto give place to a person of consequence who was entering; and I heardseveral voices whisper, "Mazarin!" As I looked, he came in, and pausingto speak to the foremost of the officers, gave me the opportunity--whichI had never enjoyed before--of viewing him near at hand. He bore acertain likeness, to my lord of Beauvais, being tall and of a handsomeand portly figure. But it was such a likeness when I looked a secondtime, as a jewelled lanthorn, lit within, bears to its vacant fellow.And then in a moment it flashed upon me--though now he wore hisCardinal's robes and then had been very simply dressed--that it was hewhose back I had seen, and whose dazzling thumb-ring had blinded me inthe garden near the Filles Dieu.

  The thought had scarcely grown to a conviction before he passed by me,apologizing almost humbly to those whom he displaced, and courteously toall; and this, and perhaps also the fact that the mass of those presentbelonged to my patron's party--who in the streets had the nick-name of"The Importants"--so that they were not quick to make room for him,rendered his progress so slow that, my name being called and everybodyhustling me forward, I came face to face with the Queen almost at themoment that he did. And so I saw--though for a while I was too muchexcited to understand--what passed.

  Her Majesty, it seemed to me, did not look unkindly upon him. On thecontrary. But my lord of Beauvais was so full of his success, and souplifted by the presence of his many friends, that he had a mind to makethe most of his triumph and even to flaunt it in his rival's face. "Ha,the Cardinal!" he cried; and before the Queen could speak, "I hope,"with a bow and a simper, "that your Eminence has been as zealous in herMajesty's service as I have been."

  "As zealous, assuredly," the Cardinal replied meekly. "For my zeal I cananswer. But as effective? Alas, it is not given to all to vie with yourLordship in affairs."

  This answer--though I detected no smack of irony in the tone--did notseem to please the Queen. "The Bishop has done me a great service. Hehas recovered my dog," she said tartly.

  "He is a happy man, and the happy must look to be envied," the Cardinalanswered glibly. "Your Majesty's dog----"

  "Your Eminence never liked Flore!" the Queen exclaimed with feeling. Andshe tossed her head, as I have seen quite common women do it in thestreet.

  "You do me a very great wrong, Madam!" the Cardinal answered, with thelook of a man much hurt. "If the dog were here--but it is not, I think."

  "Your Eminence is for once at a loss!" the Bishop said, with a sneer;and at a word from him one of the ladies came forward, nursing the dogin her arms.

  The Cardinal looked. "Umph," he said. He looked again, frowning.

  I did not know then that, whether the Queen liked him or disliked him,she ever took heed of his looks; and I started when she criedpettishly----

  "Well, sir, what now? What is it?"

  The Cardinal pursed up his lips.

  My lord the Bishop could bear it no longer.

  "He will say presently," he cried, snorting with indignation, "that itis not the dog! It is that his Eminence would say," with a sneer, "if hedared!"

  His Eminence shrugged his shoulders very slightly, and turned the palmsof his hands outwards. "Oh," he said, "if her Majesty is satisfied Iam."

  "_M'dieu!_" the Queen cried, with a spirt of anger--"what do you mean?"But she turned to the lady who held the dog, and took it from her. "It_is_ the dog!" she said, her colour high. "Do you think that I do notknow my own dog?" she continued. And she set the dog on its feet. Shecalled it "Flore! Flore!" It turned to her and wagged its tail eagerly,and jumped upon her skirts, and licked her hand.

  "Poor Flore!" said the Cardinal. "Flore!" It went to him.

  "Certainly its name is Flore," he said: yet he continued to scan it witha puzzled eye. "It is the dog, I suppose. But it used to die at the wordof command, I think?"

  "What it did, it will do!" Monseigneur de Beauvais cried scornfully."But I see that your
Eminence was right in one thing you said."

  The Cardinal bowed.

  "That I should be envied!" the Bishop retorted, with a sneer. And heglanced round the circle. There was a slight though general titter; agreat lady at the Queen's elbow laughed out.

  "Flore," said the Queen, "die! Die, good dog. Do you hear, _m'dieu!_die!"

  But the dog only gazed into her Majesty's face with a spaniel's softaffectionate eyes, and wagged its tail; and though she cried to it againand again, and angrily, it made no attempt to obey. On that a deep-drawnbreath ran round the circle; one looked at another; and there wereraised eyebrows. A score of heads were thrust forward, and some who hadseemed merry enough the moment before looked grave as mutes now.

  "It used to bark for France and growl for Spain," the Cardinal continuedin his softest voice. "One of the charmingest things, madam, I ever saw.Perhaps if your Majesty would try----"

  "France!" the Queen cried imperiously; and she stamped on the floor."France! France!"

  But the dog only retreated, cowering and dismayed. From a distance itwagged its tail pitifully.

  "France!" cried the Queen, almost with passion. The dog cowered.

  "I am afraid, my Lord, that it has lost its accomplishments--in yourcompany!" the Cardinal said, a faint smile curling his lips.

  The Bishop dropped a smothered oath. "It _is_ the dog!" he criedvehemently.

  But the Queen turned to him sharply, her face crimson.

  "I do not agree with you!" she replied. "It is like the dog, but it isnot the dog. And more, my Lord," she continued, with vehemence equal tohis own, "I should be glad if you would explain how you came intopossession of this dog. A dog so nearly resembling my dog--and yet notmy dog--could not be found in a moment nor without some foulcontrivance."

  "It has forgotten its tricks," the Bishop said.

  "Nonsense!" the Queen retorted.

  A great many faces had grown grave by this time; I have said that theroom was filled for the most part with the Bishop's supporters. "At anyrate I know nothing about it!" he exclaimed, wiping his brow andpointing to me. "I offered a reward, and that knave there found thedog." Between anger and discomfiture he stammered.

  "One of my Lord's servants, I think," the Cardinal said easily.

  "Oh!" the Queen answered, with a world of meaning; and she looked at mewith eyes before which I quailed. "Is that true, fellow!" she said. "Areyou in my Lord's service?"

  I stammered an affirmative.

  "Then I wish to hear no more," she replied haughtily. "No, my Lord.Enough!" she continued, raising her voice to drown his protestations. "Ido not care to know whether you were more sinned against than sinning;or a greater fool than your creature is a knave. Pray take your animalaway. Doubtless in a very short time I should have discovered the cheatfor myself. I think I see a difference now. I am sure I do. But, as itis, I am greatly indebted to his Eminence for his aid--and hissagacity."

  She brought out the last word with withering emphasis, and amid profoundsilence. The Bishop, staggered and puzzled, but too wise to persistlonger in the dog's identity, still tried desperately to utter some wordof excuse; but the Queen, whose vanity had received a seriouswound--since she had not at once known her own pet--cut him short with acurt and freezing dismissal, and immediately turning to the Cardinal,she requested him to introduce to her the officers who had the coloursin charge.

  It may be imagined how I felt, and what terrors I experienced duringthis struggle; since it required no great wit to infer that the Bishop,if defeated, would wreak his vengeance on me. Already a dozen who hadattended my Lord of Beauvais' _levee_ that morning were fawning on theCardinal; the Queen had turned her shoulder to him; a great lady overwhom he bent to hide his chagrin, talked to him indeed, but flippantly,and with eyes half closed and but part of her attention. For all theseslights, and the defeat which they indicated, I foresaw that I shouldpay with my life: and in a panic, seeing no hope but in escaping on theinstant before he took his measures, I slid back and strove to stealaway through the crowd.

  I reached the door in safety, and even the head of the stairs. Butthere a hand gripped my shoulder, and the steward thrust a face, whitewith rage and dismay, into mine. "Not so fast, Master Plotter!" hehissed in my ear. "You have ruined us, but if your neck does not pay forthis--if you are not lashed like a dog first and hung afterwards--I am aSpaniard! If for this I do not----"

  "By the Queen's command," said a quiet voice in my other ear; and a handfell on that shoulder also.

  The steward glanced at his rival. "He is the Bishop's man!" he cried,throwing out his chest; and he gripped me again.

  "And the Bishop is the Queen's!" was the curt and pithy reply; and thestranger, in whom I recognized the man who had delivered the dog's capeto me, quietly put him by. "Her Majesty has committed this person to theCardinal's custody until inquiry be made into the truth of his story,and the persons who are guilty be ascertained. In the mean time, if youhave any complaint to make you can make it to his Eminence."

  After that there was no more to be said or done. The steward, baffledand bursting with rage, fell back; and the stranger, directing me by agesture to attend him close, descended the stairs and crossing thecourtyard, entered St. Honore. I was in a maze what I was to expect fromhim; and overjoyed as I was at my present deliverance, had a sneakingfear that I might be courting a worse fate in this inquiry; so grim andsecretive was my guide's face, and so much did that sombre dress--whichgave him somewhat of the character of an inquisitor--add to the weightof his silence. However, when he had crossed St. Honore and entered alane leading to the river, he halted and turned to me.

  "There are twenty crowns," he said abruptly; and he placed a purse in myhand. "Take them, and do exactly as I bid you, and all will be well. Atthe Quai de Notre Dame you will find a market-boat starting for Rouen.Go by it, and at the Ecce Homo in the Rue St. Eloi in that city you willfind your wife and a hundred crowns. Live there quietly, and in a monthapply for work at the Chancery; it will be given you. The rest lies withyou. I have known men," he continued, with a puzzling smile, "whostarted at a desk in that Chancery and, being very silent men, able tokeep a secret--able to keep a secret, mark you--lived to rent one of thegreat farms."

  I tried to find words to thank him.

  "There is no need," he said. "For what you have done, it is too much.For what you have to do--rule the unruly member--it is no more than isright."

  And now I agree with him. Now--though his words came true to the letter,and to-day I hold one of the great farms on a second term--I too thinkthat it was no more than was right. For if M. de Conde won Rocroy forhis side in the field, the Cardinal on that day won a victory no lesseminent at court; of which victory the check administered to M. deBeauvais--who had nothing but a good presence, and collapsing like apricked bladder, became within a month the most discredited of men--wasthe first movement. Within a month the heads of the Importants--so, Ihave said, the Bishop's party were christened--were in prison or exiledor purchased; and all France knew that it lay in a master's hand--knewthat the mantle of Richelieu, with a double portion of the royal favour,had fallen on Mazarin's shoulders. I need scarcely add that, before thatfact became known to all--for such things do not become certainties in aminute--his Eminence had been happy enough to find the true Flore andrestore it to her Majesty's arms.