Chapter 5

The Reception at the Luxembourg.

"Albert? Is it possible?"

"Even so. Are you surprised to see that the daw has become a peacock?"

A week had passed since my midnight adventure, and I was taking the air in the public gardens. Many richly-dressed cavaliers were strolling about, and among them I recognised my friend Raoul Beauchamp. He saw me almost at the same time, and, leaving his comrades, came over instantly.

"I' faith," said he merrily, "a very handsome one, too! For a country-bred youngster you have not done badly. Let us take a stroll on the Pont Neuf while you tell your story. I am dying of curiosity. Do you know you have made a splash in the world?"

"A truce to flattery, Raoul," I laughed.

"It is a fact, my dear fellow. In certain circles you are the mystery of the day. Your cousin Henri growls like a savage bear at your name; Armand d'Arcy does nothing but laugh and call himself an oaf; while only last night De Retz declared you were worth your weight in gold. And, to make matters worse, no one could say whether you were free or in the Bastille! Anyway, I am glad you have not joined Mazarin's Guards."

"Why?"

"Because you should be one of us, and we are opposed to Mazarin."

"The Cardinal is a well-hated man!"

"A wretched Italian priest! The nation will have none of him. Before long France will be quit of Mazarin."

"And what will happen then?"

"_Ma foi!_ I know not," replied Raoul, "except that the Duke of Orleans will take his rightful place, as the King's uncle, at the head of affairs. Parliament, of course, will have to be suppressed, Conde bought over--as usual he will want the lion's share of the spoils--while De Retz must be kept quiet with a Cardinal's hat. He expects to be made minister in Mazarin's stead, but that is a fool's dream."

"But, suppose that, after all, Mazarin should win the game?"

"Bah! it is impossible. We are too strong for him. I will tell you a secret. In a month at the outside----"

I stopped him hurriedly, exclaiming, "Be careful, Raoul, or you may tell too much."

Looking at me in consternation, he said slowly, "You do not mean to suggest that you have gone over to Mazarin?"

"At least I have taken service with him."

"Then we shall be fighting on opposite sides! What a wretched business it is, breaking up old friendships in this way!"

"Ours need not be broken; and as to your party schemes against the Cardinal, they are bound to fail. There are too many traitors among you. Mazarin learns of your plots as soon as they are formed, and you wonder at his skill in evading them! Why, he has nothing to do but sit still and watch you destroy each other."

"A pleasant prospect!" exclaimed Raoul; "but now about yourself. You have not yet explained how you became a _Mazarin_, and it is difficult to distinguish the truth among a host of fables."

"It will be more difficult for you to believe it;" upon which I recounted my various adventures since arriving in the city.

"D'Arcy is true as steel," said he, "but too thoughtless to be trusted with a secret. As to De Retz, I warned the Duke to have nothing to do with him. He fights for his own hand, and cares not who sinks as long as he swims."

"Still," I suggested, "the first traitor must have been one of your own people."

He recognised the force of this, and eagerly questioned me with a view to learning the name of the man who had sold his party; but in this I did not gratify him, having no more than a suspicion, though a strong one, myself.

For some time after this we walked along in silence, but presently he said, "I suppose you are established in the Palais Royal?"

"No. Belloc--you remember my father's old friend--wished to give me a commission in the Guards, but the Cardinal thought I could serve him better in another direction. For the present I am living in the street which runs at right angles to the front entrance."

"Well within call," remarked Raoul, adding, "meet me at the Luxembourg this evening; the Duke holds a reception. You need not fear putting your head in the lion's mouth. There is a truce: the calm before the storm; so let us make the most of it. You will come, will you not? That is right. I must leave you now; there is Vautier beckoning, but we shall meet again this evening."

When he had gone I began to reckon up how things stood. Raoul was my bosom friend, who had held by me through good and ill. I loved him as a brother, and now it appeared we might be engaged at any time in mortal strife. The prospect was not pleasant, and I walked back to the Rue des Catonnes in anything but cheerful spirits.

I had selected this street, because, as Raoul said, it was within call: the rooms I had chosen on account of their cheapness. To my surprise and disgust, the Cardinal proved a poor paymaster, and, after buying my fine new clothes, there was little money left to spend in rent.

But I reflected there were more people who would notice my velvet suit, silver aigulets, lace collar, black hat with its imposing feather, and black leather boots, than would know I lived in two small rooms in a dirty street; and experience has taught me how high a value the world sets on outside show. So I walked with head erect, and just the smallest swagger, and the passers-by did not fail to yield the wall to such a brilliant gallant. Albert de Lalande in rich velvet was a very different person from the simple country youth in rusty black, whose poverty had provoked the sneers of the guests at Vancey.

By one of those wonderful changes, which, more than anything, marked this period, Paris had become quiet and peaceful. The Frondeurs, as Mazarin's enemies were called, had stopped their private quarrels; the friends of Orleans joked with those of Conde; the agents of Mazarin and the followers of De Retz walked together like brothers; the citizens laid aside their weapons; the night-hawks had returned to their roosts. Instead of meeting with insults, the Queen Regent was greeted with applause; people shouted themselves hoarse on seeing the little King, thus expressing their loyalty in the cheapest and emptiest manner.

But no one, except his paid servants, spoke a word in favour of Mazarin, and in his cabinet at the Palais Royal, the real ruler of France sat like a big spider spinning his web; very slowly, very patiently, but strongly and surely. The threads might become loose or even destroyed; it mattered not. With a steady perseverance that no defeat could daunt, the spinning went on. The loose ends were caught up; fresh threads replaced those carried away. It was plain that the death of the spinner alone could prevent the completion of the web.

But this was looking too far ahead for all save a very few. The majority accepted the strange truce without question, and, happy in the present sunshine, cared nothing for the dark clouds that might arise in the future.

The streets were thronged with pleasure-seekers, and at night I could scarcely reach the Luxembourg for the crowd. It was a pleasant crowd, however, totally unlike the surly threatening mob I had twice seen and did not wish to see again. No one quarrelled; nothing constituted a cause for anger; the nearest approach to ill-humour being a reproachful, "Oh, monsieur, you trod on my foot!" from a pretty girl to a stout citizen, who offered a thousand apologies for his clumsiness, and was charmingly pardoned.

At the Luxembourg itself the crowds and the good-humour were repeated. The courtyard was filled with gorgeous equipages, brilliantly dressed lackeys, guards, musketeers, gigantic Swiss soldiers, in all descriptions of uniform. I smiled at the vague nature of Raoul's invitation. Certainly I had come to the Luxembourg, but to find my friend was another matter. A few days previously I should have gone away in despair, but Paris had begun my education, and, instead of turning back, I walked towards the grand staircase.

A yellow carriage had drawn up at the entrance, and two ladies descended from it. I moved aside to let them pass, when one, a beautiful woman, with laughing eyes, exclaimed, "M. de Lalande!"

I had sufficient presence of mind to make a profound bow, when the fair stranger cried with a merry laugh, "Give me your arm. What new trick is this? What are you doing here?"

"I am looking for M. Beauchamp."

"He is a nice boy, but I did not know that you and he were fond of each other."

"We are very old friends, madame."

We had reached the first landing, and were waiting for the people in front to pass on, when I answered, and the lady, looking very hard at me, exclaimed, "Why, what is the meaning of this? Surely you are, and yet are not, M. de Lalande?"

"I expect, madame, that you have mistaken me for my cousin Henri. My name is Albert."

"Why, then, you belong to Mazarin's party! I have heard of you. Do you know that you have done us much mischief? But there, a truce to quarrelling," and, keeping me at her side, she entered a magnificent salon ablaze with light and colour.

I was gazing with delight at the scene when my companion exclaimed with a smile, "Mazarin has not destroyed us all yet, it seems. But there is M. Beauchamp! Raoul, come here, you naughty boy! Here is a friend of yours from the opposite camp. I leave him in your charge. I must go to the Duke, who has just discovered me, and fancies I am hatching fresh plots. What a suspicious world it is!" and with this the beautiful woman swept across the room, every one making way for her.

"That is Madame la Duchesse de Chevreuse," explained Raoul. "I suppose she took you at first for Henri. She is one of our chief supporters, though really she has done the cause more harm than Mazarin will ever do. But come, there is an old friend yonder who wishes to see you."

He led me across the salon to where sat a fair girl with large, dreamy, tender blue eyes, an oval face framed in a mass of golden hair, delicate features, and a complexion like the bloom on a peach. This was Marie de Brione, who, when a little girl, had lived near Vancey, and had often played with Raoul and myself.

"I am going to scold you, Albert," she said smiling. "How is it you are against us? I thought we three old friends were sure to stand together. I could scarcely credit Raoul when he told me you had joined the Cardinal."

"It is very unfortunate," I stammered, "but I imagined I was acting for the best by helping Mazarin."

"You are a silly boy! When we have overthrown Mazarin we shall have to put you in the Bastille!"

"And in the lowest dungeon," added Raoul.

"You will find me more generous," I laughed. "The Cardinal is sure to win, and then I shall request him to forgive you two. Perhaps he will pardon you if I beg very hard."

"You heap coals of fire on our heads! After all, it may be a good thing to number one friend among our enemies."

"I am sure it will."

"Here is Marie's aunt," said Raoul. "I do not know what she will say at finding us on friendly terms with a _Mazarin_."

Madame Coutance was a widow, though hardly older than her niece. She was tall and graceful, with coils of dark hair covering her shapely head. Her eyes were large, black, bright and flashing; she had a straight nose, small mouth, with white even teeth, and tiny hands. I had not met her before, but since the death of Marie's parents she had taken the girl under her charge.

She entered heartily into Raoul's joke, pretending to regard me as a terrible enemy, and declaring the Duke ought not to permit me to leave the salon except as a prisoner. Jest and laughter made the time fly swiftly, and I was sorry when at last Raoul and I attended the ladies to their carriage.

"Do not forget the Rue Crillon, Monsieur de Lalande," exclaimed Marie's aunt as we stood a moment at the foot of the staircase, "unless you fear to trust yourself in our company. I must win you over to our side; your talents will be thrown away on Mazarin. But the horses are impatient, and we block the way; so adieu, messieurs," and she waved a small, delicately-gloved hand in farewell.

It was one o'clock, but the Luxembourg blazed with lights; the number of guests had scarcely diminished, though numerous carriages were drawn up in readiness to start, and groups of people still lingered outside to watch the termination of the brilliant fete.

"What do you think of Madame Coutance?" asked my comrade, as her carriage rolled away.

"She is very beautiful, and, if possible, more reckless even than Madame de Chevreuse. I hope she will not cause Marie to suffer through her folly."

Raoul's face clouded, but he affected to laugh at the idea of danger.

"The Duke will protect them," he remarked grandly, but on this point I had my doubts. However, since no good ever comes through disputing over a matter of opinion, I allowed the subject to drop, and prepared to take my leave.

"Are you going?" he asked. "I would have liked to introduce you to D'Arcy. He has been on duty all night, but will be free shortly."

"I should have been delighted, but I have to visit the Cardinal at seven this morning."

"And after?"

"If he doesn't need me, I shall go to bed. I am fatigued by these late hours."

"That is right," said he laughing. "I shall make the most of the truce, by calling for you this evening. Rue des Catonnes?"

"Third house from the corner, but I will watch for you."

Raoul, being in attendance on the Duke of Orleans, returned to the palace, while I left the courtyard in a rather thoughtful mood. I did not altogether like what I had heard of Madame Coutance. It seemed that she had joined, heart and soul, in the plots against Mazarin, and was regarded by his enemies with much favour.

As a conspirator, however, she had several failings. She boasted not alone of the victories won, but also of the victories she was about to win, and was so confident of her powers that she could never be brought to understand the strength of her opponents. I regarded her as rather a dangerous guardian for a young girl, and hoped she would not drag Marie into mischief. Away from the Luxembourg the streets were deserted, save for a few night-birds who were slinking off to their own quarters. The Rue des Catonnes was in darkness, but I knew the way, and, mounting the stairs quickly, reached my room.

"The Cardinal must not be kept waiting," I muttered, "but there is time for a short nap," and I got into bed.

A few minutes before seven o'clock I crossed the courtyard of the Palais Royal, ascended the grand staircase, stopped a moment as usual to joke with the Guards; and, traversing the corridor, reached Mazarin's room just as his secretary came out.

"Go straight in, M. de Lalande. His Eminence expects you at seven, and the clock has given warning."

The last stroke had not sounded as I entered the room.

The Cardinal had been at work for hours. He sat at a table covered with documents, and, still perusing one of them, exclaimed in his silky, purring voice, "You are punctual, M. de Lalande!"

"Yes, my lord."

"I feared," said he slowly, and rustling the paper, "that last night's festivities might have fatigued you."

He turned and looked at me so as to enjoy my surprise, but, managing with an effort to preserve my composure, I remarked that I left the Luxembourg early.

"Very sensible," he murmured. "And may I ask how you found your charming friend, Madame de Chevreuse?"

"Madame de Chevreuse is no friend of mine," I stammered awkwardly. "I met her for the first time last night, when she mistook me for my cousin."

"That likeness must be very embarrassing. It would be unfortunate if the public executioner should make a similar mistake! But let us not dwell on these things; tell me about the latest plot of Madame Coutance."

I ignored the first part of this speech, though it sounded odd, and laughed at the last, but Mazarin checked me.

"You do not take Madame Coutance seriously?" said he. "You are wrong, she is a very troublesome woman. She is like a child playing with tinder, and may make a blaze at any moment without knowing it. The safety of the State demands that such persons should be deprived of the power to work mischief."

"She did not tell me her plans," I said. "She was aware that I had the honour of serving you."

"Well, these matters are of trifling interest," he replied briskly, "since one has enemies no longer. Really your post is a sinecure. I have no more important business for you than to carry this letter to our old acquaintance, Martin, the astrologer, and to bring back an answer. Perhaps it will be as well to travel on foot; you will attract less attention."

Handing me a sealed note, which I placed in my pocket, he signified that the interview was at an end, and I left the room.

It was fortunate that the Cardinal had given me a simple task, for my brain was in a whirl. The man was a marvel, he seemed aware of everything one did and said, and perhaps everything one thought. His spies were all over the city, and, whether from fear or greed, they served him well.

I thought of Madame Coutance, and the peril in which she stood. Thus far he had spared her, but at any moment a secret order might go forth, and the lady would be spirited away beyond the reach of friends. It was possible, too, that Marie would share her aunt's fate, though I did not believe the girl had much to do with the plots against Mazarin.

Who could have informed him of my visit to the Luxembourg? He had evidently heard all about it, and perhaps suspected me of playing him false. If so, he was at fault. Rightly or wrongly, I believed him to be the only man who could govern France till the king came of age, and, though feeling little love for him, I resolved to do everything in my power to defeat his enemies.

A strong, hearty voice put dreams to flight, and, looking up, I saw Roland Belloc, who was laughing pleasantly.

"Dreaming, my boy, and at this time in the morning?" said he. "Have you breakfasted? If not, come with me."

"Many thanks," I replied, "but I have no time. I am on the Cardinal's business, and----"

"Enough," said my old friend; "when the Cardinal has business on hand, breakfast must wait. Many a time it has been afternoon before I have found leisure for bite or sup. By the way, you are growing in favour, my boy, let me tell you. If you were only a few years older you would obtain a high post. Only your youth is against you, and every day makes that obstacle less."

"It does!" I replied, laughing. "I hope you will enjoy your breakfast; I am going to seek an appetite for mine."

"Don't miss the breakfast when you have found the appetite," said he merrily; "I have known that happen before now," and the jovial, though rugged, old soldier marched off to his quarters.

Making sure that the note was safe, I descended the staircase, crossed the courtyard, passed the sentries, who by this time were beginning to recognise me, and started on my journey.

Paris was waking up when I left the Palais Royal, but only a few people were stirring in the streets, and I pursued my way without hindrance, musing over the Cardinal's pleasantries and Roland Belloc's information.

"Faith," I muttered to myself, "Mazarin has a strange method of showing his favour."