John Lord - "Beacon Lights of History, Volume 3, Part 2"

Henry Beam Piper - "The Cosmic Computer"

Paul W. Fairman - "Ten From Infinity"

Matthew L. Davis - "Memoirs of Aaron Burr, Volume 1."

Annual Bibliography of Commonwealth Literature 2007
This paper argues that discourses of love in Ghanaian market literature for youth offer a view into complex negotiations of agency and empowerment. Drawing on Deborah Durham's notion of youth as "social `shifters'" and Francis Nyamnjoh's conception of the "interconnectedness" of agency, I take Ghanaian market literature as one specific case of how African literature for youth foregrounds questions of continuity and change as African societies enter into increasingly complex global relations. In this literature for youth, received notions of love, often constructed out of impressions from American pop and hip hop music, carry new notions of agency that compete with existing "domesticated" forms. Authors like Ike Tandoh and Evelyn Tay employ discourses of love to offer youth alternative avenues for empowerment in a context of socio-economic disenfranchizement. In a creative process of "straddling", this writing both reveals and reproduces the contradictions that obtain in youth configurations of agency.

Orrain

S >> S. Levett Yeats >> Orrain




The Duke pulled a long face, apparently at the thought of having to
disclose his identity to the guards of the Chatelet, but Le Brusquet
cut in with a "Let it be so, Monseigneur. Three are better than two,
except in love-making."

At this the Duke laughed, and agreed, and we all three went out into
the street, which twisted and wound its crooked way towards the river
face between two rows of overhanging houses, that seemed as if they
were ever threatening to fall over and bury it in their ruins.

For a little we walked without a word; for Antony of Vendome--fickle
and vain, at once the hope and despair of his time--felt himself hurt
and aggrieved by the refusal of his offer, and for a space preserved a
sulky silence. Ere we had gone a quarter mile, however, his
temper--variable as the wind--began to change and his kindly nature to
reassert itself. We were passing the house of the Duplessis Richelieu
when he spoke.

"_Eh bien_, Monsieur Broussel, change your mind and think better of my
offer. What with one thing and another there is steel in the air at
present, and a stout heart and a good sword such as you are may make an
estate of fifty ecus five hundred or more. Come, think of it!"

I felt my blood warm within me in spite of my fancied devotion to my
contented life; but I thought of that affair of the duel, of the
judgment of the Chambre Ardente, and above all, of Simon and the cards
he held against me. Besides, I knew Vendome, and so I refused once
more.

"Well, well," he said, "as you will; but never say Antony of Vendome
was ungrateful."

We had by this time reached the point where the road opened out upon
the river face, and halted together in the moonlight.

A little distance from us lay the Seine, shining in scales of hammered
brass. The convicts were still on the Gloriette. Poor wretches! They
slaved there day and night, and lights were moving to and fro amongst
them as the guards watched them at their toil. They were singing a
weird refrain--a chorus--ever and again interrupted by yells and curses
as the lash of the task-master fell on some victim of his hatred or
sluggard at work.

"Here we part, Monseigneur!" I said. "The lieutenant of the Chatelet
will give you guards to escort you farther."

I bowed to both, and would have gone--for I thought it well not to be
mixed up further in this matter--but the Duke stayed me. He had taken
off his glove, and was fumbling with a ring on his finger. This he
drew off and thrust into my hand.

"Keep this, monsieur. Remember, if ever you want a friend you have but
to send it to me. Farewell!"

"_Au revoir_!" cried Le Brusquet, who had up to now preserved silence.
"Remember, Le Brusquet is also your debtor doubly--once for a life and
once for a sword--and forget not my address is the sign of the
Crescent."

With this mocking allusion to the Louvre and to Diane de Poitiers'
influence there, he followed on the heels of Vendome, leaving me with
the ring in my hand.

I watched them until they were lost in the shivering haze. They never
sought the Gloriette, but kept on the right, making directly for the
Louvre.

Then I looked at the ring. It was light enough for me to see that it
was a plain gold signet in the shape of a shield, with the arms of
Bearn--two cows on a field _Or_--cut thereon.

"Perhaps," I said to myself, "I shall need it some day." With this I
slipped it on my finger, and went back.




CHAPTER III

MY PYRAMID OF CARDS COMES DOWN

I may say at once that in this chronicle it often befalls that I have
to describe the actions and deal with the motives of others. In doing
this I have given no rein to idle fancy, but have strictly followed
what those who played a part in my life have told me.

To show that my authorities in this respect are beyond reproach I have
but to mention the names of my friends--Blaise Ste. Marie de Lorgnac,
now, as all know, the Marechal Duc de Lorgnac; and Nicholas d'Ayen,
Sieur de Besme, of the Quercy, who acted so strange a part in his day
under the name of Le Brusquet. Each of these is prepared on his faith,
as knight and gentleman, to support my words, either on foot or on
horseback, with sword or with lance, and in this respect I too am ready
to cross a blade, or run a course; and so, God defend the Truth!

If further proof is needed I beg leave to refer to the confession of
the Italian, Torquato Trotto, made at his expiation, which gives many
and curious details, especially of what happened in Le Jaquemart, and
which is registered in the archives of the Parliament of Paris, where
all who list may see it. There is yet one other whom I could name, one
who is ever at my side, and who for good or for ill has taken me as
part of her life; but for the present the names I have cited are
sufficient, and I shall say no more on the subject.

On returning to my apartment after leaving Vendome and Le Brusquet I
found old Camus at the door awaiting me. He entered with me, saying:

"I watched it all from the window. Hey! but it was well done!"

I pretended to take no notice of this remark, and pressed some
refreshment upon him; but the old rascal refused, and sat with his knee
between his hands, rocking himself backwards and forwards. He went on
to make some roundabout inquiries as to who the persons were to whose
assistance I had gone, but I told him plainly that I did not desire to
discuss the subject.

Becoming nettled at this, he said: "Ho! ho! and so you do not trust me,
Monsieur Broussel! Well, I tell you I know at any rate who it is that
lies dead out there, for I have been to see, and it will not take long
for me to find out the rest."

"Go and find out, then!" I said somewhat roughly, being annoyed in my
turn.

At which he rose in a white heat. "That I will," he said; "and you
will find that the hand of Madame Diane, soft as it is, can grip
hard--hard, mind you, Monsieur Broussel!"

With this he flung out; and so we, who but an hour or two ago were in
friendly converse, parted in anger, and with stormy words.

In a manner I was not sorry for this, for in my heart I always felt a
warning against him, and there was something so ominous, so evil, in
his face as he left that I felt assured he would strike a felon blow at
the first opportunity.

The more I reflected on what had happened, and on Camus' threat in
connection with Diane de Poitiers, the more I began to see a crop of
dangers ahead of me. I began to think it well to retire to some other
city. In this I was influenced by the fact that, if there were trouble
about the dead man and I were involved in it, as after Camus' words I
felt I should certainly be, it was hardly possible that I could escape
being recognised.

The sentence against me, cruel and unjust as it was, stood still, and,
once I was discovered, it would be put into force for certain.

Like a prudent general, I felt I must beat a retreat. The bulk of my
money was in trustworthy hands in Antwerp, but in my oak chest were a
hundred gold crowns of the sun--a great stand-by and help in the hour
of trouble.

There was nothing for it but to go, and, summoning Pierrebon, I told
him of my intention. We set to work to pack a valise at once. This
being done, we waited for the small hours.

It was about four in the morning that I decided to move, and taking a
last look at the place where I had lived so long in peace I went out
into the street, followed by Pierrebon bearing the valise. I had to
leave everything behind except the barest necessities and my money, and
to trust the well-being of my goods to Fortune. The jade was unkind
enough to forget me in this matter, which put me to heavy loss.

It was, of course, impossible to leave Paris at this hour, as the gates
would be shut; but behind the Abbey of St. Germain de Pres was a little
hostel called the Chapeau Rouge, where I knew I could find shelter
until I could procure a couple of horses and be off.

At four in the morning night-hawks are abed, and even the convicts had
ceased working on the Gloriette. The moon had gone, and it was dark
now--the darkness that precedes the dawn.

We met not a soul as we stumbled along, and coming out at length to the
Vallee de Misere we passed the Gloriette, and kept to our right along
the river face, until almost opposite the Church of St. Germain
l'Auxerrois. Here moored to the bank were a number of boats, the
boatmen sleeping within them. Groping about in the darkness--such
noises as we made being fortunately drowned by the continual lap, lap
of the water against the sides of the boat, and their creaking and
groaning as they rubbed against each other--we at length found a small
empty boat tied to a large one. Favoured by darkness, we loosened the
knot, and, taking to the oars, crossed the river without being
perceived by a soul.

Once on the opposite bank we made the boat fast to some piles of wood
near the water's edge, and leaving a piece of silver for the boatman,
which I trust he found, we took the road to the Abbey of St. Germain.
Near here we found a retreat in the scaffolding of a house that was
being repaired. There we stayed until it was light, and about six in
the morning arrived at the inn, as though we were early travellers who
had entered Paris on the opening of the Porte St. Germain. In this
manner, favoured by luck, and by the exercise of caution, I bade
farewell to the Rue de Lavandieres, and gave Camus the slip, without
leaving any trace behind me.

The Chapeau Rouge was an inn mostly frequented by students, and in my
younger days I knew it well, though, to be sure, more than a dozen
years had passed since I last entered it. It was surrounded by a large
garden, enclosed by a high wall, and I could have chosen no better
place for my purpose, which was to lie close during the day, and, as
soon as horses were procured, to depart at dusk, about the hour of the
shutting of the gates.

As it happened, on this day there was scarce a soul at the inn, all the
usual customers having been drawn away to witness the execution of a
Portuguese named Gomez, who had been found guilty of sorcery,
witchcraft, and other crimes, and was to suffer in expiation on the
Place Maubert.

This ill wind, however, blew fair for me, as it left me undisturbed;
and sending Pierrebon to purchase or hire horses I awaited his return.

It was well on in the afternoon, and the sun being hot I was resting in
the shade of the garden wall, when from within a summer-house all
covered with roses, that stood near to me, I heard a lute string
touched by a master-hand, and a man's voice, full and clear, began to
sing "The Three Cavaliers." With a rush a hundred recollections of the
past came back to me, and I felt myself once more a heedless boy,
sitting on that very same seat where the singer was now, and singing
the same song. I rose and went forward, and to my surprise saw it was
Le Brusquet, lute in hand, and by his side there sat a small brown ape,
a collar of gold round his neck.

I listened till the last of the song, and was about to turn away; but,
the ape running out of the summer-house at the time, the jester put his
head through the entrance, with a "Back! Pompon! back!" and caught
sight of me.

In a moment he was by my side, and, willy-nilly, forced me into the
summer-house.

"The very man I wanted," he said. "I came here to think of you. I
always come here when in doubt or trouble--and here you are--dropped
from the clouds." He poured out some wine for me, and when we had
drank a health together he asked me:

"_Eh bien_, monsieur, tell me how you came here; tell me all, for I am
a friend."

It was impossible not to see this, and in a few words I told him. He
listened gravely the while, stroking his ape's head.

When I had done he spoke. "I too have something to tell you. There is
an outcry about Madame Diane's Italian--the first time an outcry has
been made about any such scum. This morning there was a scene at the
_petit couvert_. I was there. The short of it is that the King, my
gossip, sided with his mistress as against Vendome. Words ran so high
that the Duke was ordered to leave Paris, which he did at once."

I looked at the ring on my finger, and Le Brusquet saw the look.

"I fear," he said, "that little talisman has lost its power for the
present; but, to go on, I had other business in the morning which I
could not avoid. Towards eleven o'clock I hastened to the Rue des
Lavandieres to return your sword and to warn you. To my relief you
were not there. Your hermit's paradise is gone, and an angel, in the
form of one of M. Morin's guards, is at the door. Instead of a flaming
sword he carries an arquebus----"

"It is quick work," I cut in; "and they have seized everything, I
suppose?"

"Yes; everything. And your ostensible accuser and witness against you
is one Camus, a glove-maker. He laid an information against you at
sunrise. He was with Valentinois an hour later. Diane rises with the
dawn, you know; and he is her glove-maker."

"So he has struck hard, and struck quickly."

"Yes; there is very little glove about his action. And more, Diane
seems bent upon avenging the death of her Italian. But, monsieur, what
is your next move?"

I explained my intention, and how I proposed to quit Paris; whereat he
shook his head.

"It will not do," he said; "the gates are watched. So far you have
beaten them, but there you will fail, and here detection is certain."

"I must risk something."

"As little as possible." And after a pause: "What do you say to the
Louvre?"

"The Louvre!--the lion's den!"

"The safest place on earth. See here, Monsieur Broussel. I owe you my
life; give me a chance to make some return. Can you trust me enough to
put yourself in my hands? I will not fail you. It is not Le Brusquet
the King's jester, but Nicholas d'Ayen, Sieur de Besme, of the Quercy,
who pledges his word."

We stared each other in the face, and my good genius came to my elbow.

"Yes," I said.

In short, it was arranged that I should meet him towards sunset at the
entrance to the tennis court, east of the Louvre. There was some
difficulty about Pierrebon and the horses; but in this Le Brusquet
again came to my aid, and it was settled that Pierrebon should find
shelter in a house in the Rue Tire Boudin, which belonged to Monsieur
Blaise de Lorgnac, Seigneur of Malezieux, and lieutenant of the Queen's
guard, the same being a tried and true friend of my new-found
benefactor.

Pierrebon at this moment returning, I hailed him. He had been
unsuccessful in his attempt to obtain horses such as we needed, but
hoped to do so the next day; and shortly after Le Brusquet departed,
taking Pierrebon with him, and my valise.

"Fast bind, safe find," he said as he pointed at Pierrebon; and then,
calling to his ape, went off.

Towards the appointed time I found myself close to the parvis of St.
Germain l'Auxerrois. For some reason or other there was a greater
crowd than usual, and I was compelled to halt for a moment. Just at
this moment a body of eight or ten horsemen came trotting rapidly
towards the Chatelet. Their leader all but rode over a child, and
would certainly have done so had I not made a long arm and pushed it
aside. There was no doubt of it, the leading horseman was my brother
Simon, the Vidame d'Orrain, and I thanked my good star that, owing to
the dusk, the bustle, and the pace he was going at, he did not
recognise me. Something, however, struck him, for twice he turned back
to look. I did not wait for a third glance, and, mixing with the
crowd, was lost to view.

At the gate of the tennis court I met Le Brusquet, and, passing through
a wicket, we entered the precincts of the Louvre.




CHAPTER IV

THE QUEEN'S MIRACLE

Where the eastern wing of the Louvre rose high above the Rue St. Thomas
lay the apartments of Le Brusquet, at the end of a labyrinth of
passages and galleries. Having brought me here my friend left me, with
a warning not to stir forth until his return--a piece of advice I was
quite prepared to follow. Once alone I stepped out into a small,
overhanging balcony, that clung like a beehive to the leprous grey of
the wall, and, sitting well under cover of the battlements, looked
around. Far below me was a walled courtyard, in which an archer of M.
de Lorges' guard paced steadily backwards and forwards. Beyond this
lay the narrow Rue St. Thomas du Louvre, its many-storeyed houses
crowding one above the other, as if struggling for light and air. Here
were the spires of St. Thomas du Louvre, the church raised to the
martyr of Canterbury, and St. Nicaise. There lay the Quinze Vingts.
To the right stood the Campanile of St. Germain l'Auxerrois, all
empurpled in the afterglow of the sunset. Still farther, where the
mouth of the street opened out, was a glimpse of the Seine; and with a
turn of my head I could see, huge and vast, the enormous keep of the
Louvre, built by Philip Augustus, and evilly known as the Philippine.
But although my eyes, straining through the twilight, rested on these
and more, my thoughts were far away. At a puff my pyramid of cards,
the little life I had built up for myself, had come down, and all my
labour and toil were in vain.

I am not of those who give way to despair; but the blue devils attack
the best hearted at times, and for once I felt the hopelessness of my
position, and began to think it useless to struggle further. Perhaps,
after all, it would be better to accept defeat and surrender myself.
Better that than being hunted like a hare, as I was. And then my
thoughts were cut short. Something soft and furry sprang into my lap.
It was Pompon, Le Brusquet's ape, and he looked into my face with soft,
melancholy eyes.

"Poor little beast!"--and I stroked him. "You at least build no
pyramids of cards."

"_Tudieu_!" said a voice, "that is true, but for pulling them down he
has no equal." And Le Brusquet appeared at the window, which opened
out upon the balcony.

I rose and came in. Le Brusquet stepped back and seated himself on a
table, and then for the first time I noticed a third person in the
room--a tall, soldierly man, with the collar of The Order at his neck.
With a wave of his hand Le Brusquet presented me to the stranger, whom
I found was M. de Lorgnac, the lieutenant of the Queen's guard--he in
whose house Pierrebon had obtained shelter.

I thanked him for the kindness he had shown in this, to one so utterly
unknown as I was to him; but he stayed me with a smile, saying that in
this or any other matter I could command him, as the friend of Le
Brusquet, and went on to pay me a handsome compliment in regard to the
affair of the previous night.

"An affair that is like to place me on the road to Montfaucon," I said
a little bitterly.

"On the contrary," replied De Lorgnac, "rather, perhaps, on the road to
better things."

"Hearken not unto him!" said Le Brusquet; "he is for ever looking out
for recruits for his guard. Blaise de Lorgnac is as insatiable a
stirrer of the porridge of the times as I; only I use a longer ladle,
as beseems a person of my wisdom. As for you, _mon ami_ Blaise,--you
throw your lures in vain! Know you that Monsieur Broussel is a
philosopher, who has found contentment in--fifty ecus a year, did you
not say, monsieur?" And, reaching for his lute, he ran his fingers
over the strings and began to sing:

"Mes amis, la terre est a moi.
J'ai de quoi
Vivre en roi
Si l'eclat me tente.
Les honneurs me sont devolus
J'ai cinquante ecus,
J'ai cinquante ecus,
J'ai cinquante ecus de."


"_Mille tonnerres_! Stop! Do you want to bring half the Louvre here
to listen?" And De Lorgnac placed his hand over the singer's mouth,
and took the lute from him.

"Enough!" said Le Brusquet; "you have banished the inspiration. I sing
no more. And as for you, Monsieur Blaise, take yourself off with that
long sword of yours. It frightens the ape, and I have that to say
which is for M. Broussel's ear alone."

"_Au revoir_!" said Lorgnac, but as he reached the door he turned to me.

"Your Pierrebon is safe and sound in the Rue Tire Boudin. He has
received orders not to stir forth. In the matter of the horses--you
must let that be my care." And without waiting for reply he went away.

"I know not how to thank M. de Lorgnac or you----" I began, but Le
Brusquet cut in:

"As yet the thanks are due from me, and Lorgnac is helping me to pay my
debts. And now listen, _mon ami_. One half the world consists of
fools who give advice, and the other half of idiots who refuse to
benefit by it; let me for once see an exception to the rule."

"I hardly follow you."

"I will explain. Between us there is this difference. In the search
for happiness that every man makes I remained in the world, and you
left it and turned philosopher. The result is that I am fairly
satisfied with life, whereas you are sick of it in your heart. Yet,
until this disaster came to you, you tried to play the happy man with
your lute, your 'Plutarch's Lives,' and your hermit's cell of a house.
Is it not so?"

I made no answer, and he continued:

"Last night, for some reason of your own--perhaps because you still
clung to your belief in your own way of life--you refused a chance;
that chance has gone; but another is left, and it remains for you to
take it or not."

"What is left?"

"What is left is this. Last night you refused the sauce of a prince of
the blood; to-day will you refuse the soup of a Queen?"

"Of a Queen!"

"Yes; of the Queen of France. In brief, the Queen wants a reliable
person to do something for her. It must be someone unknown to the
Court. Will you undertake the business or not? It will, at any rate,
enable you to leave Paris in safety, in broad day if you will, though
out of Paris you may have to look to your skin."

Like an old war-horse I scented the battle, and my blood flamed through
me. Le Brusquet was right. With cunning knowledge he had pulled at my
heart-strings, and laid bare my secret to myself. Win or lose, I now
knew that I had to come back to the world; and it should be now. I
rose to my feet.

"I accept," I said, "whatever is offered me."

"I thought you would," he answered; "and I may tell you that De Lorgnac
knows of this. At first it was he who was to have undertaken the
affair; but he is too well known, and the Queen would have none of him.
He it was who suggested your name to me; and," he went on, with a
smile, "it was all prearranged that he should leave us together, so
that I might open the matter to you."

"But the Queen! Perhaps----"

"There is no perhaps about it. The Queen asked De Lorgnac to find her
an agent, and he has named you."

"I was going to say that if the Queen finds I am bourgeois----"

"We can leave the matter of a coat-of-arms to the Queen." And he
laughed as he continued: "Perhaps that may come to the plain Monsieur
Broussel--and--it has just gone compline, and we, or rather you, must
see the Queen."

"I am ready," I said.

"Then let us be away! Everything has gone well. The King has left for
Fontainebleau to hunt the boar. He started this afternoon; Madame
Diane is with him. The royal children are at St. Germain-en-Laye, and
but for its guards the Louvre is deserted; there is no one here but the
Queen. Come, then!"

With a whistle to the ape, which hopped along in front of us, he opened
the door and passed out, I following on his heels. Outside, we found
ourselves in a maze of twisting passages, along which my guide went
with quick, light steps. Finally, we turned into an arched doorway,
and, ascending a stair, stood on the roof of one of the galleries
connecting the wings of the Louvre with the great keep.

The twilight was dead, but the moon was rising in a clear, cloudless
sky. By her light we walked along the lonely battlements until we
reached a flight of steps, upon which the shadow of the Philippine fell
darkly. Arrived at the head of the steps we gained an embattled
balcony, giving access, by means of a lancet arch, into the keep.
Through this we passed, and entered a long, low corridor. So low,
indeed, that by raising the baton he carried in his hand Le Brusquet,
though not a tall man, could easily reach the joints of the groined
roof. Here we stood for a space, where a banner of moonlight lay on
the floor--the ape a dark spot in its whiteness. All was silent as the
grave. Once there was a startling rush of wings as a homing-pigeon
flew past the open arch and hissed off into the night. All was in
semi-gloom, except where the moon lit the floor at our feet, and where,
at intervals, a dim yellow halo marked the spot where a feeble lamp was
burning in a niche set far back in the huge walls.

"And this leads to the Queen's apartment," whispered Le Brusquet, with
a shrug of his shoulders, as he led the way along the gallery, which
curved with the shape of the keep. On rounding the curve it came to an
abrupt ending. Here a lamp swung by a chain from the roof, and by its
light we dimly saw before us a large door, firmly closed, and seeming
to bar all further progress. Near the door a man was seated in an
alcove in the wall, his knees almost up to his chin, his drawn sword in
his hand. He swung round on to his feet as we came up. It was De
Lorgnac.

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