An Enemy To The King

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"Monsieur," said De Quelus, while Bussy and I kept it up, with offence
on his part, defence on mine, "I am sorry that I cannot intervene to
save your life. My arm has been hurt in a fall, and I cannot even hold
up my sword."

"I know that," I replied. "That is why I interfered."

"The devil!" cried Bussy. "Much as I detest you, M. de Quelus, you know I
would not have attacked you had I known that. But this gentleman, at
least, has nothing the matter with his arm."

And he came for me again.

Nothing the matter with my arm! Actually a compliment upon my
sword-handling from the most invincible fighter, whether in formal duel
or sudden quarrel, in France! I liked the generosity which impelled him
to acknowledge me a worthy antagonist, as much as I resented his
overbearing insolence; and I began to think there was a chance for me.

For the first time, I now assumed the offensive, and with such suddenness
that Bussy fell back, out of sheer surprise. He had forgotten about the
cross that stood in the centre of the place, and, in leaping backward, he
struck this cross heavily with his sword wrist. His glove did not save
him from being jarred and bruised; and, for a moment, he relaxed his firm
grasp of his sword, and before he could renew his clutch I could have
destroyed his guard and ended the matter; but I dropped my point instead.

Bussy looked at me in amazement, and then dropped his.

"Absurd, monsieur! You might very fairly have used your advantage.
Now you have spoiled everything. We can't go on fighting, for I would
not give you another such opening, nor would I kill a man who gives
me my life."

"As you will, monsieur," said I. "I am glad not to be killed, for what
is the use of having fought Bussy d'Amboise if one may not live to
boast of it?"

He seemed pleased in his self-esteem, and sheathed his sword. "I am
destined not to fight to-night," he answered. "One adversary turns out to
have a damaged arm, which would make it a disgrace to kill him, and the
other puts me under obligation for my life. But, M. de Quelus, your arm
will recover."

"I hope so, if for only one reason," replied Quelus.

Bussy d'Amboise then bowed to me, and strode on his way. He was joined at
the next crossing of streets by four lackeys, who had been waiting in
shadow. All had swords and pistols, and one bore a lantern, which had
been concealed beneath his cloak.

De Quelus, having looked after him with an angry frown, now turned to me,
and spoke with affability:

"Monsieur, had you not observed the condition of my arm, I should have
resented your aid. But as it is, I owe you my life no less than he owes
you his, and it may be that I can do more than merely acknowledge the
obligation."

I saw here the opportunity for which a man might wait months, and I was
not such a fool as to lose it through pride.

"Monsieur," I said, "I am Ernanton de Launay, Sieur de la Tournoire. I
arrived in Paris to-day, from Anjou, with the desire of enlisting in the
French Guards."

De Quelus smiled. "You desire very little for a gentleman, and one who
can handle a sword so well."

"I know that, but I do not bring any letters, and I am not one who could
expect the favor of a court appointment. I am a Huguenot."

"A Huguenot?" said De Quelus. "And yet you come to Paris?"

"I prefer to serve the King of France. He is at present on good terms
with the Huguenots, is he not?"

"Yes,--at least, he is not at war with them. Well, gentlemen like you are
not to be wasted, even though Huguenots. Attach yourself to Duret's
company of the guards for the present, and who knows when you may win a
vacant captaincy? I will bring you to the attention of the King. Can you
be, to-morrow at eleven o'clock, at the principal gate of the Louvre?"

"Yes, monsieur."

"Very well. I will speak to Captain Duret, also, about you."

He looked at my active figure, neither tall nor short, neither broad nor
too thin, observed the length of my arm, and remembered that I had made
so respectable a showing with the sword against Bussy, I could see that
he was thinking, "It is well to have in one's debt as many such strong
and honest young gentlemen as can be had. Even a Huguenot may be useful
in these days."

Then, when so many leaders contended, every man was desirous of gaining
partisans. At court, wise people were scrupulous to repay obligations, in
the hope of securing future benefit. I divined De Quelus's motives, but
was none the less willing to profit by them as to the possible vacant
captaincy.

"Then I thank you, monsieur, and will keep the appointment," I said.

"You are alone," said De Quelus. "One does not know when one may have
one's throat cut for a sou, after dark in the streets of Paris. Will you
accept the escort of two of my servants? They are waiting for me in the
next street. One does not, you know, let one's servants wait too near
windows out of which one expects to drop," he added with a smile.

"I thank you, monsieur, but I have already fared so well alone to-night,
that I should fear to change my fortune by taking attendants."

"Then good night, monsieur. No, thank you. I can sheathe my own sword. My
arm has lost its numbness. _Parbleu_, I should like to meet Bussy
d'Amboise now."

And he strode away, leaving me standing by the cross.

I hesitated between returning to the inn, and resuming my exploration of
the streets. I decided to go back, lest I be shut out for the night.

I had made my way some distance, in the labyrinth of streets, when, on
reaching another junction of ways, I heard steps at some distance to the
left. Looking in that direction, I saw approaching a little procession
headed by two men servants, one of whom carried a lantern. I stepped back
into the street from which I had just emerged, that I might remain
unseen, until it should pass. Peering around the street corner, I saw
that behind the two servants came a lady, whose form indicated youth and
elegance, and who leaned on the arm of a stout woman, doubtless a
servant. Behind these two came another pair of lackeys.

The lady wore a mask, and although heavily cloaked, shivered in the
January wind, and walked as rapidly as she could. The four men had swords
and pistols, and were sturdy fellows, able to afford her good protection.

The two men in advance passed without seeing me, stepping easily over a
pool of muddy water that had collected in a depression in the street, and
had not yet had time to freeze.

When the lady reached this pool, she stopped at its brink and looked down
at it, with a little motion of consternation.

"I cannot step across this lake," she said, in a voice that was
low-pitched, rich, and full of charm to the ear. "We must skirt
its borders."

And she turned to walk a short distance up the street in which I stood.

"Not so, madame," I said, stepping forth and bowing. "The lake is a long
one, and you would have to go far out of your way. I will convey you
across in a moment, if you will allow me." And I held out my arms,
indicating my willingness to lift her across the pool.

The two servants in the rear now hastened up, ready to attack me, and
those ahead turned and came back, their hands on their weapons.

The lady looked at me through the eye-holes of her mask. Her lips and
chin being visible, she could not conceal a quizzical smile that came
at my offer.

"Why not?" she said, motioning her servants back.

I caught her up in my arms and lifted her over the puddle. She slid from
my grasp with a slight laugh.

I sought some pretext to prolong this meeting. "When I came out
to-night," I said, "I dared not hope for such happiness as this."

"Nor did the astrologer predict anything of the kind to me," she replied.
From this I knew the cause of her being in the street so late,--a secret
visit to some fortune-teller. Then she called to the stout woman, who was
looking for a place to step over the pool. "Come, Isa, in the name of
Heaven. You know that if the guard is changed--"

She stopped, but she had already betrayed herself. She meant the guard of
the palace, doubtless; and that her secret entrance, so long after the
closing of the gates, depended for its ease on the presence of some
officer with whom she had an understanding. She must be one of the ladies
attached to the royal household, and her nocturnal excursion, from the
Louvre, was evidently clandestine.

Isa now joined her mistress, and the latter, with a mere, "I thank you,
monsieur," turned and hastened on her way. Soon the footsteps of her
attendants died out of hearing.

I had not even seen her face, save the white, curved chin and the
delicate mouth. I had only beheld her lithe figure, felt its heaving as I
carried her, had my cold cheek warmed for a moment by her breath, heard
her provoking laugh and her voice, rich with vitality. Yet her charm had
caught me and remained with me. I could not, nor did I try to throw it
off. I was possessed by a craving to see her again, to know more of her.
Already I made this unknown the heroine of my prospective love affair. I
could soon find her, after gaining the entree of the court; and I could
identify her by her voice as well as by her probable recognition of me.
Heaving a deep sigh, I left the place of our meeting and found my way
back to the inn. Thanks to the presence of some late drinkers, I got in
without much pounding on the door; and in my little white-washed chamber
I dreamt of soft eyes that glowed through the holes of a lady's mask.

CHAPTER II.

LOVE-MAKING AT SHORT ACQUAINTANCE

The next morning was bright, and not too cold. At eleven I approached the
great gate of the Louvre, wearing the bold demeanor of a man determined
not to be abashed, even by the presence of royalty. Yet within me there
was some slight trepidation lest I should, on first setting foot within
the precincts of a palace, betray my rustic bringing up.

Others were being admitted at the gate, and some were coming out, both
the King's council and the reception having been over for some time. A
page, who had been waiting just inside the court, came out as I
approached, and asked me if I were M. de Launay. Astonished, that he
should have so easily picked me out, I replied that I was. He then said
that he had come to conduct me to Monsieur the Marquis de Quelus, and I
followed him into the great courtyard of the Louvre.

Before me was the imposing facade of the palace. Around me was an
animated scene of well-dressed gentlemen coming and going, meeting one
another forming little groups for a moment's interchange of news or
inquiries, and as quickly breaking up. There were soldiers on guard,
officers on duty and off, courtiers in brilliant doublets, dazzling
ruffs, rich hose; gentlemen with gay plumes, costly cloaks, jewelled
sword-hilts. There were pages, strutting about with messages; lackeys,
belonging only to the greatest nobles or royal favorites. Everybody,
whether gentleman, soldier, household officer, priest, page, or valet,
went with an air of great consequence, with head high in air, every
step, expression, and attitude proclaiming a sense of vast superiority
to the rest of the world. It was as if people attached to the court were
an elevated race of beings; or as if the court were Olympus, and these
were gods and the servitors of gods, who, very properly, regarded
mortals with disdain. Each man, too, maintained not only this lofty air
as befitting one of the court, but also an aspect of individual
preciousness as towards his fellow divinities. There was, in many a face
or bearing, an expressed resentment, in advance, of any affront that
might be offered. The soldiers swaggered, the gentlemen showed
self-esteem in every motion. Nevertheless, there was much good nature
and courtesy in the salutations, fragments of conversation, and
exchanges of gossip. Leaving the sunlit courtyard behind, the page
showed me up a fine stairway, where some gentlemen tarried in little
parties, while others ascended or descended. We passed through large
galleries, the same animation continuing everywhere. I had no time, as
we passed, to examine the superb hangings and fanciful decorations of
the galleries in detail. The clothes of the courtiers, the brilliant
display of velvet, silk, furs, and the finest linen, of every known hue,
made a continually changing, moving panorama of color.

We approached, at last, a group extraordinarily radiant in attire. It was
composed of very young men, some of whom had hardly yet acquired the
beard required by the universal fashion. Even at a distance I could see
that their cheeks were painted, could note their affectation of feminine
attitudes, could smell the perfumes with which they had deluged their
bodies. These were some of the favorites of the King, and more of the
imitators of the favorites. No wonder that Bussy d'Amboise and the sturdy
gentlemen of the King's ungainly brother, Anjou, had a manly detestation
for these bedaubed effeminates, and sought opportunities to extirpate
them with the sword. Yet these dainty youths, one of whom was De Quelus,
who now came forward to meet me, were not cowards.

The young Marquis wore a slashed doublet of brown velvet and gold. His
silken hose were of a lighter tint of brown. His ruff was so enormous
that he had to keep the point of his beard thrust forward at an
elevation.

"I shall present you when the King passes," he said to me. "I have
already spoken a word to Captain Duret, to whom you will report
to-morrow. He will make a veteran of you in a quarter of an hour. The
King, by the way, knows of your family. He knows every family in France,
for that matter. I spoke of you to him at his rising this morning. He
said that your father was a Huguenot, and I told him that you also were
Protestant. You know enough of things in France to be aware that your
Protestantism stands a little in your way at court, just now; but things
may change before there is a vacant captaincy in the Guards."

People who have thought it bad enough that I should have gone to Paris,
instead of to the court of Henri of Navarre, have been astonished,
beyond expression, at my having desired to serve in the King's infantry,
which, in the event of another civil war, might be arrayed against the
army of our faith. But it must be borne in mind that I had this desire
at a time when none knew how the different armies might be placed
towards one another in the civil war, which everybody admitted must, at
some time or other, occur. I was one of the many who believed that the
Duke of Guise, using the newly formed Holy League as his instrument,
would aim for the throne of France; that King Henri III. would be
forced, in self-defence, to make an alliance with the Huguenot leaders;
and that, therefore, I, in fulfilling my ambition to be of this King's
own soldiers, with quarters in or near Paris in time of peace, would, at
the outbreak of civil war, find myself in line with the armies of our
faith, opposed to the common enemy, the great Catholic Guise faction. Of
the various predictions as to the future of France, I chose this one,
perhaps because it was the only one which permitted me to follow out my
wishes without outraging my sense of duty.

Before I could answer De Quelus, a voice said, "The King!" At the end of
the gallery, where two halberdiers and two ushers stood, a pair of
curtains had quickly parted, and out came a slender young man all velvet,
silk, gold, and jewels; with the legs and the walk of a woman; with face
painted like a courtesan's; a very slight beard on his chin, and a weak
growth of hair on his upper lip; with a look half brazen, half
shamefaced; with eyes half wistful, half malicious; his pear-shaped face
expressing some love of the beautiful, some wit, some cynicism, much
personal vanity, vicious inclinations and practices, restlessness, the
torture of secret self-reproach, a vague distress, a longing to escape
somewhere and be at peace.

He wore ear-rings, a necklace, bracelets, and a small jewelled velvet
cap; but he was without his famous basket of little dogs. This was Henri
III., and he was going to pray in one of the churches.

As he came down the gallery, he noticed De Quelus, from afar, and then
glanced at me. When he was before us, De Quelus made obeisance and
presented me. Before I could finish my bow, the King said:

"Ah, it was your sword that helped to preserve my chamberlain from the
ambush laid for him?" (From which it appeared that De Quelus had given
his own account of the previous night's occurrence.) "And you wish to
enlist in my regiment of French Guards? My faith, I have done well in
reestablishing that corps, if such brave young gentlemen are induced to
enter it. I'll wager you hope to earn a commission soon."

I could only reply: "Such a hope is beyond my deserts, sire."

It was indeed beyond them, for I had seen no military service; but it was
not beyond them for any other reason.

"Nothing is beyond the deserts of one whose sword is always loyal," said
the King, with intended significance, and passed on; his gentlemen
falling in behind him. De Quelus gave me directions as to my reporting,
on the morrow, to Captain Duret, and added, "Rely on me for any favor or
privilege that you may wish, and for access to the palace. You have only
to send me word." He then joined the following of the King.

I seemed now at liberty to remain in the Louvre as long as I might
choose, having once entered it. I thought I would look about, knowing
that if at any time I should be about to trespass on forbidden ground,
there would be guards to hinder me. I went first to a window overlooking
the court. I had no sooner turned my eyes down upon the splendid and
animated scene below, then I felt a touch on my elbow. Looking around, I
saw a familiar face,--that of M. de Rilly, another Anjou gentleman, whom
I had known before his coming to court. He was now one of the King's
equerries.

He was a sprightly man of about thirty, with none of the effeminacy that
marked so many of the officers of the King's household. Though not of my
religion, he made me heartily welcome, and undertook, at once, to
initiate me into the mysteries of the court. He was a loquacious,
open-minded man, who did not fear to express his thoughts, even in the
shadow of royalty itself.

Hearing some clatter in the direction whither the King had gone, I looked
after him. A short, compact young gentleman, plainly, but richly dressed,
slightly stooping, with a rather surly face, and an envious eye, was
coming towards the King. He wore riding-boots and a cloak, and behind
him came a troop of young men similarly attired. The foremost of them was
Bussy d'Amboise, expressing defiance in every line of his bold, square
countenance.

"Ah," said De Rilly, "there is the Duke of Anjou, who has been riding in
the faubourg."

I took a second look at the surly gentleman. At this moment he exchanged
glances with his brother, the King. The look of each was eloquent. The
King's said, "I hate you for being a disloyal brother and a fractious
subject; for conspiring to take away part of my kingdom; and who knows
but that you are secretly aiming at my throne and my life?" The younger
brother's look conveyed this much: "I hate you for your suspicions of me;
for your not obtaining for me in your court the respect due the son and
brother of a king; for encouraging your favorites to ridicule me. If I am
driven to rebel against you, it is your own fault."

The King received the Duke's perfunctory salutation indifferently, and
passed on. Anjou and his men turned into a gallery leading to his own
apartments.

"I see that everybody is following the King," I said.

"Yes, but not I," replied De Rilly. "I find it no more amusing to pray
when the King does than at any other time. I came here, this morning, to
catch a glimpse of one of the Queen's ladies, but her Majesty has a cold,
and my lady is in attendance."

"Which of the Queens has a cold?"

"Queen Louise, the King's wife. It is true, one may well ask which, when
there is mention of the Queen nowadays. The Queen of France is a small
factor when compared with the King's mother, Queen Catherine, or even
with his sister, the Queen of Navarre, whose name is on everyone's
tongue, on account of her love affairs, and of her suspected plots."

"What plots?"

"Some think she plots with the Duke of Guise, who cannot wait to rule
France until Catherine's sons are both dead,--but Catherine will make
him wait. Others believe that she plots with her Huguenot husband, the
King of Navarre, to join him; and that the King keeps her here virtually
a prisoner, lest her departure might be taken as a concession to the
Huguenots; and, lastly and chiefly, they aver that she plots with her
brother Anjou, to help him to join the Huguenots and malcontents as
their leader."

"This is very interesting, M. de Rilly; but, pardon me, is it safe to say
these things openly at court? I am fresh from the country, and anxious
not to blunder."

"It is safe for me, because I am nobody at all, and, moreover, I say
whatever is in my thoughts, and am looked upon as a rattlebrain, and not
taken seriously. But it would not be safe for some. There comes the Queen
of Navarre now. She and her ladies have been walking in their garden."

A number of ladies were entering the gallery from a side stairway.
Marguerite de Valois, who ought to have been with her husband, the King
of Navarre, at his little court at Nerac, remained instead at the court
of France, to be its greatest ornament. She was, alas, its greatest
scandal, also. But I admired her none the less for that, as she stood
there, erect among her women, full of color and grace. Vast possibilities
of mischief seemed buried in the depths of the big and brilliant eyes
which gave so much life to the small, round face.

While she stood still for one of her maids to detach from her ruff a
dead leaf that had dropped there during her walk, Bussy d'Amboise
returned from Anjou's apartment. He walked up to her with a conquering
air, bowed, and said something that made her laugh. Then he looked
around and saw me. He spoke to her again, in a low tone, and she cast
her fine eyes in my direction. She directed her ladies to fall back out
of hearing, and again conferred with Bussy. At the end of this he left
her, and strode over to me.

"Monsieur," he said, "the Queen of Navarre would like to know your name.
I do not remember to have heard it last night."

I told him my name, and he took me by the arm, led me to Marguerite, and
presented me, somewhat to my confusion, so rapidly was the thing done.

"You are a newcomer at court?" she said.

"I arrived in Paris only yesterday."

"And have taken service with--whom?"

"In the French Guards."

"We shall doubtless hear more of your skill with the sword," said
Marguerite.

"I knew not I had any," I replied, "until I found out that I could stand
up for a minute against the sword I met last night. Now I am glad to know
that I possess skill, that I may hold it ever at the service of your
Majesty as well as of the King."

This speech seemed to be exactly what Marguerite had desired of me, for
she smiled and said, "I shall not forget you, M. de la Tournoire," before
she turned away.

Bussy followed her, and I returned to De Rilly.

"Why should they pay any attention to me?" I said to him.

"No newcomer is too insignificant to be sought as an ally where there are
so many parties," he replied, indifferently. "Those two are with Anjou,
who may have use for as many adherents as he can get one of these days.
They say he is always meditating rebellion with the Huguenots or the
Politiques, or both, and I don't blame a prince who is so shabbily
treated at court."

"But what could a mere guardsman do, without friends or influence?
Besides, my military duties--"

"Will leave you plenty of time to get into other troubles, if you find
them amusing. How do you intend to pass the rest of the day?"

"I have no plans. I should like to see more of the Louvre on my first
visit; and, to tell the truth, I had hoped to find out more about a
certain lady who belongs to the court."

"What do you know of her?"

"Only that she has a beautiful figure and a pretty mouth and chin. She
wore a mask, but I should recognize her voice if I heard it again."

"I wish you better luck than I have had to-day."

Marguerite and her damsels had turned down a corridor leading to her
apartments. Bussy d'Amboise was disappearing down the stairs. There came,
from another direction, the lively chatter of women's voices, and there
appeared, at the head of the stairs up which Marguerite had come, another
group of ladies, all young and radiant but one. The exception was a
stout, self-possessed looking woman of middle age, dressed rather
sedately in dark satin. She had regular features, calm black eyes, an
unruffled expression, and an air of authority without arrogance.

"Queen Catherine and some of her Flying Squadron," said De Rilly, in
answer to my look of inquiry. "She has been taking the air after the
King's council. Her own council is a more serious matter, and lasts all
the time."

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