Chapter 21

The Death of Henri.

Many a time I had left the house in the Rue des Catonnes with a very doubtful chance of returning, but I had rarely gone out with such a pressing sense of danger as now. Pillot's sudden appearance, his strange story, and the memory of former deceptions wrought on my nerves, and I almost wished Raoul or John Humphreys was with me.

The rioters, too, now that the soldiers had departed, returned to the street in a very quarrelsome humour. They stood in groups talking angrily; and one brawny ruffian, yelling "Death to the Nobles!" struck at me with a pike. Happily my sword was free and I pinked his arm; still it would have gone hard with me but for Pillot, who procured us a passage by the use of some jargon well-known to these night-birds.

"Be cautious, monsieur," he said, "the mob is growing dangerous. The riot has not spread far, but to-morrow----!"

"Will the city rise?"

"Nothing can stop it, monsieur. These people are like wild animals. You can excite them to a certain pitch, but beyond that----"

"What is the grievance now?" I asked, and Pillot shrugged his shoulders.

"There are many things, monsieur, but at present the chief is hunger. The inhabitants of these quarters are half starved, and they want to know why. They will put the question very loudly in a day or two."

"Will they rise against the throne?"

"It all depends. A whim or a word will do it. Some one will cry 'Down with Conde!' and there is your revolution ready-made. The man who is starving does not stop to reason. The cry may be 'Down with the Nobles!'--no one knows as yet, and no one cares."

Presently I asked why he had ventured abroad on the day when the King was declared of age.

"My master was better then," he said, "and desired to learn how affairs were shaping. We heard a rumour that Conde would not be present; so I went to find out. It was a risky thing, and the sight of you frightened me."

"It need not have done; I wish my cousin no harm."

"True, monsieur, but we were not aware of that."

"Where have you hidden your master?"

"In an outhouse at La Boule d'Or. We dared not take him to the inn; he would have been discovered. I was afraid the other evening when you came with M. Beauchamp."

"Then you saw us?"

"I watched you enter, monsieur--and go away," and the rascal could not help chuckling.

Through dirty courts and fetid alleys where the sun never shone, my guide led the way, bringing me at last to the familiar Rue de Roi. My distrust had vanished by now, and I followed him unhesitatingly. Crossing the road and walking rapidly through a private passage, we reached the back of the inn. The yard was in partial darkness, but I made out an old building which communicated by a covered way with the hostelry. Lighting a candle, Pillot entered this passage and stood listening intently. No sound could be heard; all was silent as the grave.

"Too late!" he exclaimed sadly, and, heedless of me, sprang up the stairs two at a time, the flame of the candle flickering violently. I heard him turn the handle of the door, and, running up quickly, passed in with him.

The evening shadows were relieved only by the glimmer of the candle, but I gave no more than a passing glance at the wretched room. Somehow I had felt convinced almost from the first that Pillot was telling the truth, and now the proof was before me.

The dwarf, who had placed the candle on the table, was bending over a figure close by. It was my cousin, wrapped in an old dressing-gown and seated in a deep arm-chair. He looked wasted and white, his mouth was drawn at the corners, his eyes burned deep in their sockets with a red glow, I could almost see through the thin white hands that lay loosely on his lap.

Pillot, as I have mentioned, bent over him, and called softly, "Monsieur, monsieur, your cousin has come; I have fetched your cousin."

"Henri!" I cried--for the dying man apparently took no notice--"I am your cousin, your cousin Albert. Do you not wish to speak to me?"

There was a faint gleam of recognition in his eyes, and it appeared as if he were trying to brace himself; then he extended one hand, and said quietly, "Albert!"

I urged him to let me send for a skilful surgeon, but he shook his head impatiently, saying, "No, no, he could do nothing. Pillot has been my doctor and nurse. Good little man!"

One could perceive that he was dying, and I would not disturb him further, though the dwarf wished to carry him to his bed.

Presently he looked at me with a faint smile whispering, "The elder branch will lead again. It is well; you are a better De Lalande than I. At one time I hoped we might have been friends, but you had chosen your part."

"We can be friends yet."

"No, no; it is too late. What I have done I have done; but there is one matter pressing on my mind. Will you forgive me for--for----"

"The plot?" I put in cheerfully. "Of course, I forgive you freely; it was all in the game."

"You did not believe I meant to kill you?"

"Not for an instant," I answered honestly.

He lay back in his chair, and a gratified smile flickered across his face.

"Maubranne did not tell me," he said feebly. "He knew I would not--not consent. I only intended to keep you shut up for a few weeks. What have you done with Peleton?"

"He is in the Bastille! He informed Conde of all that he knew."

"Pah! I warned the Abbe against him, but he refused to listen. Tell Raoul not to worry about me. I should have recovered but for the soldiers. Pillot had to move me. It was horrible, but the end is near now. Ask the Abbe to bury me in Paris."

He stopped exhausted; his eyes closed; his head fell forward, and I thought that life was gone. Pillot stood near me choking back his sobs. I had not given him credit for such feeling.

"Oh, monsieur," he whispered, "your cousin was good to me; I would have given my life freely to save his!"

"Hush! He is speaking again!"

Very low and faint were the words, but we heard him say, "Pillot, are you there? Good little man, I will not forget. Fetch my cousin, Pillot. Quick, do you hear? Ah, _monsieur le prince_, you are too late! It is a pity!" and he laughed derisively.

There was silence for a time, and then I whispered softly, "Henri!" but he made no answer.

The feeble light played on his face, half hiding, half revealing the ghastliness of it; and we, without speech or movement, stood watching him, till the candle sputtering out left us in darkness. Pillot would have fetched another from the inn, but he feared to stir lest the sound should disturb the dying man. How long we remained thus I cannot tell, but shortly before morning broke there came a strange, convulsive rattle from the huddled figure in the chair, and we knew that Henri de Lalande had passed from the power of man.

"May his soul rest in peace!" said Pillot simply.

"Amen," I replied, and, moving softly, closed the dead man's eyes.

I was scarcely more than a lad then, and Henri's melancholy death in this wretched room made a deep impression on me. It was a sad ending to what might have been a brilliant career. The early dawn, creeping into the room, cast fantastic shadows everywhere, and the light falling on my cousin's face imparted to it a strange appearance of life. I could almost have thought he was smiling at me.

"I have lost a good master," said Pillot. "You and he were not the best of friends, monsieur, but there are many worse men in Paris than the one who has just died."

"I am sure of it," said I somewhat absently, for my thoughts had turned to the previous night's rioting.

"The King is dead; live the King!" What a world of meaning lies in those simple words! I was really sorry for my cousin's death, but there was no leisure to indulge in grief; the living were in need of my assistance.

Paris was up in arms! The mob had already broken loose, and, unless the ruffians were quickly checked, no one could foretell how the tumult might end. As yet only a house or two had been plundered, but within twenty-four hours Paris might be reduced to ashes. I thought of Marie and her aunt, and determined by some means to get them from the city. It seemed pitiful to leave my cousin lying dead there, but I could do him no good, and Pillot would carry his message to De Retz.

"Pillot," I exclaimed, "I must leave you to attend to your master's burial. The Abbe will not refuse his last request. I would stay, but it is necessary for me to attend the ladies in the Rue Crillon. If the mob rises there may be danger."

"You are right, monsieur! Paris is no place for them at present. Take them out of it as quickly as possible. As to your cousin, I will see that he has proper burial; I will go to De Retz at once."

"What will you do afterwards? You will not care to serve the Abbe again?"

"Ah, no! I would wring his neck with pleasure, monsieur!"

"I do not wish that. Come, let me make you an offer. I am not rich like my cousin, but if you will take service with me, I will arrange that you are properly paid."

"After all that has passed? Monsieur is exceedingly trustful."

"Because I am aware how loyal you have been to M. de Lalande."

"Very well, monsieur; let it be so. You will find that I shall serve you faithfully."

"I am sure of that. Now listen. As soon as my cousin is buried, start for Aunay--you know the road. If you do not find me there I shall have gone to join the Cardinal and you can follow. Here is some money; you will need it before we meet again."

As soon as these matters were arranged we went out, and Pillot carefully secured the door. The morning had broken cold and gray, a drizzling rain fell, the streets were deserted; the night-owls, wearied by their exertions, had returned to their roosts.

"There is still time to see Raoul," I muttered; so, bidding Pillot go straight to the Abbe, I turned off in the direction of the Luxembourg.

At the Palace the change from the stillness of the city was startling. The gates were closed and guarded; soldiers, fully equipped, stood at their posts; the courtyard was filled with nobles in a state of excitement. Happily for my purpose Raoul observed me and came to the gate.

"What has alarmed you so down here?" I inquired. "Is the Duke afraid of a siege?"

"Have you not heard the news? Come inside where we can talk. It has all happened just as we reckoned it would. Conde has thrown off the mask and broken with the Court. It is rumoured that Spain has offered him a body of troops, and that he intends to tempt fortune in a Civil War. The Queen is firm and does not mean to let him back out; it is do or die for him now."

"All the better; we shall be able to distinguish friends from enemies. It will be an awful thing, but once Conde is well beaten the country will stand a chance of peace. The Duke of Orleans will join forces with the Queen?"

"I cannot say," answered Raoul shamefacedly; "he is pulled this way and that, by both parties. Most probably he will wait to find how things go."

"Then he is a coward as well as a traitor! _Faugh!_ I wonder you have patience to stay with him! I can understand a loyalist and even a rebel, but a weather-cock like the Duke is beyond me. Why does he not come boldly into the open? This twisting and turning will do him no good. One would imagine he was a hunted hare."

"There is no need to ask what you will do?"

"Not a bit, I shall join the royal army and serve as a trooper, if no better berth offers. Thank goodness the field is clear now, and we shall know where we stand. But first I must get Marie and her aunt out of the city. Paris will not be safe for them when the mob rises, as it is sure to do. But I have some further news; my cousin is dead."

"I thought you said he died weeks ago."

"Pillot spread that rumour about, but there can be no mistake now, as I have just come from his deathbed," and, while my friend listened attentively, I related the strange story of the past night.

"Poor fellow!" exclaimed Raoul; "we were never very friendly, but I am sorry for him. He would have made a name for himself in time. He must have had some good points for Pillot to stick to him so closely. The little man will be lost without his master."

"He has taken service with me."

"I have no doubt he will serve you well. Shall you go to the Rue Crillon at once?"

"Yes, and endeavour to induce Madame Coutance to leave before the danger becomes pressing. Well, I must be off, and I wish you were coming with me."

"I shall follow you," he said resolutely, "and fight for the Crown, with or without the consent of the Duke."

"Bravo, old friend!" I cried impetuously. "Conde against De Retz or Orleans I can understand; but Conde against the Throne is another matter. The point of every honest man's sword should be turned against a traitor! Why not come now?"

"Because the Duke may yet take the field for the Queen! He must make up his mind in a few days at the most."

He walked with me to the gate, and after a brief farewell I set out towards the city. Thus far nothing unusual had occurred, but there were numerous signs of a coming storm. Most of the shops remained closed, door and windows were barricaded, sober Black Mantles, armed from head to foot, stood in groups talking of the situation. The denizens of the courts still rested, but some, more energetic than their neighbours, made furtive excursions into the main streets. They slunk along with pike and club, as if even now half doubtful of their own strength, though here and there a self-appointed leader shouted for death to the nobles. But the time was not yet. The appetite of the _canaille_ was not sufficiently whetted; later they would be ready for the feast.

Walking quickly to the Rue Crillon, I found the ladies breakfasting, and was glad to join them, as I had eaten nothing for many hours. They were not aware of the previous night's riot, and Madame Coutance laughed at the idea of leaving the city.

"There is no danger," she declared, "and, besides, I have business in Paris."

"But your friends are gone," I urged. "You have heard that Conde has turned traitor?"

She flushed angrily, and answered in her masterful way, "I know the prince has taken up arms to secure his rights."

"In any case he is not here to protect you from the fury of the mob."

"Bah!" said she scornfully, "a pack of cowards! Any one--a woman even--could send them flying with a riding-whip!"

Argument was thrown away on her, but I did my best, even exaggerating the danger, and begging her to depart if only for the sake of her niece. However, she remained obstinate; not, I think, out of mere bravado, but because she misjudged the strength of the rising. Standing at the window, she pointed to the quiet street, saying triumphantly, "Where is the danger, M. de Lalande? The Rue Crillon looks to me as peaceful as the park at Aunay. Besides, the citizens are in favour of the prince, and they will not injure us."

Shrugging my shoulders impatiently, I made no reply; she must bear the consequence of her folly. Even Marie seemed to think lightly of the peril, though she thanked me prettily for my thoughtfulness. At last, annoyed by my failure, I bade them farewell, and returning to the Luxembourg despatched a soldier in search of Raoul, who looked surprised at seeing me again.

"The woman is an imbecile," he exclaimed angrily, "but we must save her in spite of herself, if it is at all possible. Are you aware that the gates are guarded, and that no one is allowed to pass without a permit? The Duke has just issued the order."

"In that case I may as well abandon the idea of getting them through, unless you can obtain a permit for us."

"I will try, if you will wait here a few minutes," and off he went to the palace.

"Another plot, De Lalande?" cried a laughing voice at my elbow, and, turning my head, I perceived Armand d'Arcy, who had just come up.

"Only an attempt to get Madame Coutance and her niece out of the city. I am afraid there will be mischief in a day or two."

"Sooner than that, my friend! The pikes are being sharpened and the _canaille_ will be all armed by nightfall. I suppose you have heard the news of Conde?"

"That he has shown his true colours? Yes! it is the best thing that could have happened. Of course you are for the Crown and against Conde?"

"I am for the Duke of Orleans," said he.

"What, against the King?"

"Against the world, if it comes to that! I chose him as my patron and must stand by him, though I hope he will not assist Conde."

"If he does you will be a rebel."

"All right," cried he, with his merry laugh, "there will be small novelty in that. Ah! here comes Beauchamp, looking as solemn as an owl. Can you not manage to screw out a smile, Raoul? A glimpse of yourself in a glass just now would frighten you to death. Look a bit lively, there is plenty of time for being miserable."

"Brule has arrived with his report," said Raoul, "and things are even worse than we expected; the barricades will be up to-night. Here, Albert, take care of this," and he gave me an order signed by the Duke: "Allow bearer and two friends to pass the gate of St. Denis without question or delay."

"Thanks," said I, slipping it into my pocket, "it may mean all the difference between life and death, though whether Madame Coutance will leave is more than I can tell. And now, good-bye, for the second time; I am going to my rooms for a few minutes, and after that to the Rue Crillon."

"Avoid the short cuts," D'Arcy advised; "or you may get into trouble, and if you are invited to cry 'Down with the King!' shout with all your might. Better to use your breath unpleasantly than to lose it altogether."

"It is as likely to be 'Down with Conde!' as anything else," I answered laughing, "and in that case you will hear my voice at the Luxembourg."

"By the way," said Raoul, "have you seen John Humphreys?"

"No, I must spare five minutes for him. It is only a hop, skip, and jump from my place to the Palais Royal," and, with their good wishes ringing in my ears, I set off for the Rue des Catonnes.