My Sword's My Fortune: A Story of Old France, Page 2

  CHAPTER II.

  La Boule d'Or.

  "Faith," I muttered, "Raoul has a strange taste. One would think hisgolden ball would soon become dingy in this neighbourhood!"

  The Rue de Roi was really a narrow lane, with two rows of crazybuildings looking as if they had been planned by a lunatic architect.The street itself was only a few feet wide, and the upper storeys ofthe opposite houses almost touched. But in spite of its air of generalruin, the Rue de Roi was evidently a popular resort. Crowds of peoplewent to and fro; sturdy rogues they appeared for the most part, andeach man openly carried his favourite weapon--pike, or sword, orhalberd.

  Some belonged to the bourgeois or shopkeeping class. These, wrapped inlong black cloaks, moved softly, speaking in low tones to groups ofcoopers, charcoal-sellers, and men of such-like occupations.

  I was more astonished at beholding bands of young nobles who swaggeredby in handsome dresses, laughing familiarly with both bourgeois, and_canaille_--as the lowest class was called; and I wondered vaguely ifthe scene had anything to do with what the boy had told me.

  But I was tired and hungry, and the sights and sounds of the city hadmuddled my brain so that I cared chiefly to discover Raoul's inn. Atany one of the numerous hostelries my lean purse would secure me asupper and a bed, and I began to think it advisable to defer anyfurther search till the morning.

  I stood in the middle of the road hesitating, as one will do at suchtimes, when a clear young voice cried, "Hush, do not disturb him; he iswaiting to hear the tinkle of the cow-bells!" a jest due no doubt to myill-cut country clothes.

  At the ringing laugh which greeted these saucy words I turned, and sawseveral young gallants stretched across the narrow street, completelyblocking my path. Their leader was a fair-haired lad with blue eyes,and a good-humoured face that quite charmed me. He looked younger eventhan myself, though I afterwards learned there was little difference inour ages.

  "I thought the fashion of keeping private jesters had gone out!" Iexclaimed. "You should ask your master to provide you with cap andbells, young sir! Dressed as you are one might mistake you for agentleman."

  I did not mean to deal harshly with the youngster, but the last part ofmy speech hurt him, and he blushed like a girl; while his companions,drawing their swords, were for cutting me down off-hand. But thoughnot understanding Paris customs I knew something of fencing, sothrowing my cloak to the ground, I stood on guard. In another minutewe should have been hard at it, but for the fair-haired lad, who,rushing between us, called on his friends to stand back.

  "Put up your swords!" he cried in a tone of command; "the stranger isnot to blame. Your words were harsh, monsieur, but the fault was myown. I am sorry if you were annoyed."

  "Oh," said I, laughing, "there is no great harm done. My jest was atrifle ill-humoured, but an empty stomach plays havoc with goodmanners, and I am looking for my supper."

  "Then you must let me be your host, and my silly freak will gain me afriend instead of an enemy."

  He was a pretty boy, and his speech won on me, but I was tired out andanxious to sleep, so I replied, "A thousand thanks, but I am seeking LaBoule d'Or. Perhaps you can direct me."

  I must tell you the street was so badly lighted that we could not seeeach other clearly, but at this he stared into my face as if trying torecall my features and said, "Why, surely you must be----; but I havebeen in error once to-night, and no doubt you have reasons for thisdisguise. Still, is it safe to go to the inn? The old fox has hisspies out."

  "The old fox could come himself if he would but bring a decent supperwith him!" I replied, not understanding in the least what the lad meant.

  "_Ma foi!_" cried he, "I have heard of your bravery, but this is sheerrecklessness. And to pretend you have forgotten the inn! I supposeyou don't know me?"

  "Not from Adam," I replied testily. "I have only one acquaintance inParis, and as for the inn----" but the youngster laughed so heartilythat I could not finish the sentence.

  "_Parbleu!_" he cried, handing me my cloak, "this is a richer farcethan mine! 'Tis you who should wear the cap and bells! But come, Iwill be your guide to the hostelry you have forgotten."

  "Only to the door then, unless you would wish to drive me mad," atwhich, laughing again and bidding his companions wait, he led the waydown the street, turning near the bottom into a _cul-de-sac_.

  "There is the inn which you have forgotten so strangely," he said, "butyou are playing a dangerous game. There may be a spy in the house."

  "There may be a dozen for all I care. But I am keeping you from yourfriends."

  "While I am keeping you from your supper. But just one question; itcannot hurt you to answer. Will the scheme go on?"

  "The scheme? What scheme?" I asked, in amazement

  "You are a good actor," said he a trifle crossly. "Perhaps you willtell me if Maubranne has returned to town."

  "Maubranne is at Vancey," I answered in still greater astonishment.

  "Then you will have to do the work yourself, which will please usbetter. Maubranne would have spoiled everything at the last minute.But there, I will leave you till to-morrow--unless you will be out."

  "Out?" I exclaimed. "Yes, I shall be out all day and every day."

  "Till the mine is laid! Well, I must tear myself away. Don't be toorisky, for without you the whole thing will tumble about our ears likea house of cards."

  I felt very thankful to be relieved of my unknown friend's company, formy head was in a whirl, and I wished to be alone for an hour. Pushingopen the outer door and entering a narrow, ill-lit passage, I almostfell into the arms of a short, stout, red-faced man, who leered at memost horribly.

  "Are you the landlord?" I asked.

  "Yes," he answered, making a profound bow.

  "Then show me a room where I can eat and sleep, for I am tired out andhungry as a famished hawk."

  "I grieve, monsieur; I am truly sorry," he replied, bowing in mostmarvellous fashion for one so stout, "but, unhappily, my poor house isfull. In order to make room for my guests I myself have to sleep inthe stable. But monsieur will find excellent accommodation higher upthe street."

  "Still, I intend staying here. The fact is, I have come on purpose tosee an old friend, a gentleman in the train of the Duke of Orleans."

  "Will monsieur give his name?"

  "M. Raoul Beauchamp," I replied; "he comes here frequently."

  At this the innkeeper became quite civil, and I heard no more of theadvice to bestow my custom elsewhere.

  "Well, mine host," I said slyly, "do you think it possible to find me aroom now in this crowded house?"

  The fellow bowed again, saying I was pleased to be merry, but thatreally in such stirring times one had to be careful, and that the goodFrancois, who had known everybody, was dead--killed, it was hinted, bya spy of Mazarin. But now that I had proved my right, as it were, thehouse was mine, and he, the speaker, the humblest of my servants.

  "Then show me a room," I exclaimed, "and bring me something to eat anddrink."

  He lit a couple of candles, and walking farther along the passage threwopen a door which led into a crowded room. The inmates stoppedtalking, and looked at me curiously. One, leaving his seat, came closeto my side.

  The fellow was a stranger to me, and, unless I am a poor judge, acut-throat by profession. Finding that I made no sign of recognitionhe stood still saying clumsily, "Pardon, monsieur, I mistook you foranother gentleman." Then, lowering his voice he added, "Monsieurwishes to remain unknown? It is well. I am silent as the grave."

  Gazing at me far more villainously than the landlord had done, hereturned to his place, which perhaps was well, as I was rapidlyapproaching the verge of lunacy. However, I followed the innkeeper upa crazy staircase, along various rambling corridors, and finally into asparsely-furnished but comfortable apartment. Uttering a sigh ofrelief at the sight of a clean bed, I sat down on one of the two chairswhich the room contained.

  "Thank goodness!"
I exclaimed, and waited patiently while my host wentto see after the supper.

  He was back in less than ten minutes, and I smiled pleasantly inanticipation of the coming feast, when he entered--empty-handed!Something had happened, I knew not what, but it had increased the man'srespect tremendously.

  "Forgive me," he murmured penitently, "but I have only just learned thetruth, and Francois is dead. Still it is not too late to change, andmonsieur can have his own room."

  "Where is my supper?" I asked. "Can't you see I am starving? Whatcare I about your Francois? Bring me some food quickly."

  "Certainly, monsieur, certainly," said he, and disappeared, leaving meto wonder what the new mystery was.

  "What does he mean by 'own room'? Who am I? And who, I wonder, is theunlucky Francois? It seems to me that we must all be out of our mindstogether."

  Presently the innkeeper, attended by a servant, reappeared, and betweenthem they placed on the table a white cloth, a flagon of wine, a loafof wheaten bread, a piece of cheese, and a cold roast fowl.

  Sitting back in my chair, I regarded the proceedings with an approvingsmile, saying, "Ah, that is more to the purpose! Now I begin tobelieve that I am really at La Boule d'Or!"

  When the men had gone, I took off my sword, loosened my doublet, andsat down to supper, feeling at peace with all the world, and especiallywith Raoul, who had told me of this fair haven, and also how to castanchor therein, which, in such a crowded harbour, was of the utmostimportance.

  The bread was sweet and wholesome, the fowl tender, though of a smallbreed, the cheese precisely to my palate; while I had the appetite of agray wolf in winter. Thus I made short work of the provisions, and,after the empty dishes were removed, tried hard to think out anexplanation of the evening's events.

  The chatter of the young gallant, the odd behaviour of the mandownstairs, the cringing attitude of the innkeeper, the remarkconcerning my own room, showed that I was mistaken for another person,and one of considerable importance; so perhaps it was well for me thatthe worthy Francois was no longer alive.

  The evident likeness between the unknown and myself pointed to the factthat I was usurping the place of my cousin, and in that case I hadstepped into a hornet's nest. However, I was in poor condition forreasoning clearly; the supper and fatigue had made me so sleepy that myhead nodded, my eyes closed, and I had much ado to keep from fallingasleep in the chair.

  At last I rose, and having seen to the fastenings of the door andwindows and examined the walls--Raoul had told me several strangestories of Parisian life--I undressed, placed sword and pistols readyat hand, blew out the light, repeated the simple prayer my mother hadtaught me, and stepped into bed.

  I must have fallen into a sound sleep towards daylight, as I did notwaken till a servant knocked loudly at the door; but during the firstpart of the night my rest was feverish and broken by the oddest dreams,in which Baron Maubranne, Raoul, and my cousin, played the principalparts.

  After breakfast, at which the innkeeper was still more humble than onthe preceding evening, I held counsel with myself as to what was bestto be done. Raoul was probably at the Luxembourg, but, remembering myreception at the gate of the Palais Royal, I had no mind to hazardanother rebuff.

  "I will write him a note," I concluded. "He will come at once and giveme the key to all these strange doings. Meanwhile if these peoplechoose to treat me as a grand personage, so much the better."

  Calling for paper, I wrote a note and sent it by one of the servants tothe Luxembourg.

  Unfortunately, I was to meet with a second disappointment. The manreturned with the information that M. Beauchamp was absent on a specialmission for the Duke. He had gone, it was believed, to Vancey, andmight not return for a week. However, the instant he returned theletter should be given him.

  This was far from pleasant news. What should I do now? My first ideawas to explain matters to the innkeeper, but would he believe thestory? Maubranne had already accused me of being a spy, and if any ofthe people at the inn entertained the same notion I felt it would bethe worse for me. Besides, a week was not long, and Raoul might returneven sooner. "He will either come or send at once," I thought, "andnot much harm can happen in a few days."

  As a matter of fact I was afraid to trust the innkeeper with my story.It would have been of little consequence in ordinary times, but justthen one could hardly tell friend from foe.

  Three days slipped by pleasantly enough. Each evening I wandered intothe streets of the city, looking with interest at the crowds of people,the splendid buildings, the gaily-dressed roysterers, the troops ofGuards in their rich uniforms, the gorgeous equipages of the ladies,and the thousand strange sights that Paris presented to a provincial.

  At first I found it rather difficult to make my way back to the inn,but by careful observation I gradually acquired a knowledge of thedistrict.

  Once I summoned courage to accost a soldier of the Guards, and toinquire if M. Belloc had returned from his journey.

  Looking rather contemptuously at my rusty dress, he answered, "Do youmean M. Belloc of the Cardinal's household?"

  "The same," I said.

  "I am sorry, monsieur, but he is still out of Paris, or at least he issupposed to be, which amounts to the same thing. But if you wishparticularly to see him, why not seek audience of the Cardinal?"

  "Thanks, my friend; I had not thought of that."

  The soldier smiled, nodded, and went on his way, humming an air as ifwell-pleased with himself.

  "Seek audience of the Cardinal?" The bare idea froze up my courage; Iwould as soon have entered a den of lions!

  "No, no," I thought, "better to wait for Raoul."

  During this time no message had come from him, but on the fourthevening, as I was setting out for my usual promenade, a servantannounced a messenger with an urgent letter.

  "Show him up," I cried briskly, anxious to learn the nature of mycomrade's communication, and hoping it would foretell his speedyarrival.

  The messenger's appearance rather surprised me, but I was too full ofRaoul to pay much attention to his servant. Still, I noticed he was asmall, weazened, mean-looking fellow, quite a dwarf, in fact, withsharp, keen eyes and a general air of cunning.

  "You have a letter for me?" said I, stretching out my hand.

  "Monsieur de Lalande?" he asked questioningly, with just the slightestpossible tinge of suspicion, and I nodded.

  "It is to be hoped that no one saw you come in here, monsieur!"

  "Waste no more words, but give me the letter; it may be important."

  "It is," he answered, "of the utmost importance, and my master wishesit to be read without delay."

  "He has kept me waiting longer than was agreeable," I remarked, takingthe note and breaking the seal.

  The letter was neither signed nor addressed, and my face must haveshown surprise at the contents, as, looking up suddenly, I found themessenger watching me with undisguised alarm. Springing across theroom I fastened the door, and, picking up a pistol, said quietly,"Raise your voice above a whisper and I fire! Now attend to me. Doyou know what is in this note?"

  "No!" he answered boldly.

  "That is false," I said, still speaking quietly, "and will do you nogood. Tell me what is in it."

  "Has not monsieur learned to read?" he asked in such a matter-of-factmanner that I burst out laughing.

  "You are a brave little man, and when you see your master tell him Isaid so."

  "What name shall I give him, monsieur?"

  "Name, you rascal? Why, my own, De Lalande! Now sit there and don'tstir, while I read this again."

  It was a queer communication, and only the fact of my chance meetingwith the youngster in the Rue de Roi gave me anything like a clue as toits meaning.

  This was what I read.

  "I have sent to the inn, in case my mounted messenger should fail tostop you on the road. The plan will go on, _but without us_. We moveonly when success is certain. Make your arrangements acco
rdingly. Ourfriends will be annoyed, but they can hardly draw back. I leave you tosupply a reason for your absence. A broken leg or a slight attack offever might be serviceable. Destroy this."

  Plainly the note did not come from Raoul, nor was it intended for me.

  What did it mean? That there was a conspiracy on foot I grasped atonce, as also that my cousin was one of the prominent actors. Butwhat, and against whom? and why was I, or rather Henri, to draw back?Who were _our friends_ who would do it without us? Was my acquaintanceof the Rue de Roi among them? On which side was Raoul?

  Now Raoul and my cousin had no love for each other, and therefore, Iargued, though wrongly as it afterwards appeared, they could not beworking together.

  "Come," thought I, "this is clearing the ground. By going more deeplyinto the matter I may be able to do Raoul a service."

  But how to proceed? That was the question which troubled me.