The Suitors of Yvonne: being a portion of the memoirs of the Sieur Gaston de Luynes, Page 2

  CHAPTER II. THE FRUIT OF INDISCRETION

  Despite the dejection to which I had become a prey, I slept no lesssoundly that night than was my wont, and indeed it was not until latenext morning when someone knocked at my door that I awakened.

  I sat up in bed, and my first thought as I looked round the handsomeroom--which I had rented a week ago upon receiving the lieutenancy inthe Cardinal's guards--was for the position that I had lost and of theneed that there would be ere long to seek a lodging more humble andbetter suited to my straitened circumstances. It was not without regretthat such a thought came to me, for my tastes had never been modest, andthe house was a fine one, situated in the Rue St. Antoine at a hundredpaces or so from the Jesuit convent.

  I had no time, however, to indulge the sorry mood that threatened tobeset me, for the knocking at my chamber door continued, until at lengthI answered it with a command to enter.

  It was my servant Michelot, a grizzled veteran of huge frame andstrength, who had fought beside me at Rocroi, and who had thereafterbecome so enamoured of my person--for some trivial service he swore Ihad rendered him--that he had attached himself to me and my lucklessfortunes.

  He came to inform me that M. de Mancini was below and craved immediatespeech with me. He had scarce done speaking, however, when Andreahimself, having doubtless grown tired of waiting, appeared in thedoorway. He wore a sickly look, the result of his last night's debauch;but, more than that, there was stamped upon his face a look of latentpassion which made me think at first that he was come to upbraid me.

  "Ah, still abed, Luynes?" was his greeting as he came forward.

  His cloak was wet and his boots splashed, which told me both that he hadcome afoot and that it rained.

  "There are no duties that bid me rise," I answered sourly.

  He frowned at that, then, divesting himself of his cloak, he gave itto Michelot, who, at a sign from me, withdrew. No sooner was the doorclosed than the boy's whole manner changed. The simmering passion ofwhich I had detected signs welled up and seemed to choke him as hepoured forth the story that he had come to tell.

  "I have been insulted," he gasped. "Grossly insulted by a vile creatureof Monsieur d'Orleans's household. An hour ago in the ante-chamber atthe Palais Royal I was spoken of in my hearing as the besotted nephew ofthe Italian adventurer."

  I sat up in bed tingling with excitement at the developments whichalready I saw arising from his last night's imprudence.

  "Calmly, Andrea," I begged of him, "tell me calmly."

  "Mortdieu! How can I be calm? Ough! The thought of it chokes me. I wasa fool last night--a sot. For that, perchance, men have some right tocensure me. But, Sangdieu! that a ruffler of the stamp of Eugene deCanaples should speak of it--should call me the nephew of an Italianadventurer, should draw down upon me the cynical smile of a crowd ofcourtly apes--pah! I am sick at the memory of it!"

  "Did you answer him?"

  "Pardieu! I should be worthy of the title he bestowed upon me had I notdone so. Oh, I answered him--not in words. I threw my hat in his face."

  "That was a passing eloquent reply!"

  "So eloquent that it left him speechless with amazement. He thought tobully with impunity, and see me slink into hiding like a whipped dog,terrified by his blustering tongue and dangerous reputation. But there!"he broke off, "a meeting has been arranged for four o'clock at St.Germain."

  "A meeting!" I exclaimed.

  "What else? Do you think the affront left any alternative?"

  "But--"

  "Yes, yes, I know," he interrupted, tossing his head. "I am going to bekilled. Verville has sworn that there shall be one less of the Italianbrood. That is why I have come to you, Luynes--to ask you to be mysecond. I don't deserve it, perhaps. In my folly last night I did youan ill turn. I unwittingly caused you to be stripped of your commission.But if I were on my death-bed now, and begged a favour of you, you wouldnot refuse it. And what difference is there 'twixt me and one who is onhis death-bed? Am I not about to die?"

  "Peste! I hope not," I made answer with more lightness than I felt. "ButI'll stand by you with all my heart, Andrea."

  "And you'll avenge me?" he cried savagely, his Southern blood a-boiling."You'll not let him leave the ground alive?"

  "Not unless my opponent commits the indiscretion of killing me first.Who seconds M. de Canaples?"

  "The Marquis de St. Auban and M. de Montmedy."

  "And who is the third in our party?"

  "I have none. I thought that perhaps you had a friend."

  "I! A friend?" I laughed bitterly. "Pshaw, Andrea! beggars have nofriends. But stay; find Stanislas de Gouville. There is no betterblade in Paris. If he will join us in this frolic, and you can hold offCanaples until either St. Auban or Montmedy is disposed of, we may yetleave the three of them on the field of battle. Courage, Andrea! Dumspiramus, speramus."

  My words seemed to cheer him, and when presently he left me to seek outthe redoubtable Gouville, the poor lad's face was brighter by far thanwhen he had entered my room.

  Down in my heart, however, I was less hopeful than I had led him tobelieve, and as I dressed after he had gone, 't was not without someuneasiness that I turned the matter over in my mind. I had, during theshort period of our association, grown fond of Andrea de Mancini. Indeedthe wonted sweetness of the lad's temper, and the gentleness of hisdisposition, were such as to breed affection in all who came in contactwith him. In a way, too, methought he had grown fond of me, and I hadknown so few friends in life,--truth to tell I fear me that I had few ofthe qualities that engender friendship,--that I was naturally prone toappreciate a gift that from its rareness became doubly valuable.

  Hence was it that I trembled for the boy. He had shown aptitude with thefoils, and derived great profit from my tuition, yet he was too raw byfar to be pitted against so cunning a swordsman as Canaples.

  I had but finished dressing when a coach rumbled down the street andhalted by my door. Naturally I supposed that someone came to visitCoupri, the apothecary,--to whom belonged this house in which I had mylodging,--and did not give the matter a second thought until Michelotrushed in, with eyes wide open, to announce that his Eminence, CardinalMazarin, commanded my presence in the adjoining room.

  Amazed and deeply marvelling what so extraordinary a visit mightportend, I hastened to wait upon his Eminence.

  I found him standing by the window, and received from him a greetingthat was passing curt and cavalier.

  "Has M. de Mancini been here?" he inquired peremptorily, disregardingthe chair I offered him.

  "He has but left me, Monseigneur."

  "Then you know, sir, of the harvest which he has already reaped from theindiscretion into which you led him last night?"

  "If Monseigneur alludes to the affront put upon M. de Mancini touchinghis last night's indiscretion, by a bully of the Court, I am informed ofit."

  "Pish, Monsieur! I do not follow your fine distinctions--possibly thisis due to my imperfect knowledge of the language of France, possibly toyour own imperfect acquaintance with the language of truth."

  "Monseigneur!"

  "Faugh!" he cried, half scornfully, half peevishly. "I came not here totalk of you, but of my nephew. Why did he visit you?"

  "To do me the honour of asking me to second him at St. Germain thisevening."

  "And so you think that this duel is to be fought?--that my nephew is tobe murdered?"

  "We will endeavour to prevent his being--as your Eminence daintily putsit--murdered. But for the rest, the duel, methinks, cannot be avoided."

  "Cannot!" he blazed. "Do you say cannot, M. de Luynes? Mark me well,sir: I will use no dissimulation with you. My position in France isalready a sufficiently difficult one. Already we are threatened with asecond Fronde. It needs but such events as these to bring my family intoprominence and make it the butt for the ridicule that malcontents butwait an opportunity to slur it with. This affair of Andrea's will lenditself to a score or so of lampoons and pasquinades, all of whic
hwill cast an injurious reflection upon my person and position. That,Monsieur, is, methinks, sufficient evil to suffer at your hands. Thelate Cardinal would have had you broken on the wheel for less. I havegone no farther than to dismiss you from my service--a clemency forwhich you should be grateful. But I shall not suffer that, in additionto the harm already done, Andrea shall be murdered by Canaples."

  "I shall do my best to render him assistance."

  "You still misapprehend me. This duel, sir, must not take place."

  I shrugged my shoulders.

  "How does your Eminence propose to frustrate it? Will you arrestCanaples?"

  "Upon what plea, Monsieur? Think you I am anxious to have the whole ofParis howling in my ears?"

  "Then possibly it is your good purpose to enforce the late king's edictagainst duelling, and send your guards to St. Germain to arrest the menbefore they engage?"

  "Benone!" he sneered. "And what will Paris say if I now enforce a lawthat for ten years has been disregarded? That I feared for my nephew'sskin and took this means of saving him. A pretty story to have onParis's lips, would it not be?"

  "Indeed, Monseigneur, you are right, but I doubt me the duel will needsbe fought."

  "Have I not already said that it shall not be fought?"

  Again I shrugged my shoulders. Mazarin grew tiresome with hisrepetitions.

  "How can it be avoided, your Eminence?"

  "Ah, Monsieur, that is your affair."

  "My affair?"

  "Assuredly. 'T was through your evil agency he was dragged into thisbusiness, and through your agency he must be extricated from it."

  "Your Eminence jests!"

  "Undoubtedly,--'t is a jesting matter," he answered with terrible irony."Oh, I jest! Per Dio! yes. But I'll carry my jest so far as to have youhanged if this duel be fought--aye, whether my nephew suffers hurt ornot. Now, sir, you know what fate awaits you; fight it--turn it aside--Ihave shown you the way. The door, M. de Luynes."