Chapter 7

The Cardinal takes an Evening Walk.

D'Arcy's acquaintance was one of the _petits maitres_, as Conde's followers were called, and it was easy to see that he prided himself immensely on his fine clothes. He was dressed in a coat of dark blue cloth covered with fine lace; his mantle was scarlet, and his silk stockings, ornamented with lace, were of the same colour. He wore a black hat turned up _a la catalane_, and adorned by an enormous black feather, and his gloves were of a soft, gray buckskin. His scabbard was picked out with various designs, and jewels shone in the hilt of the sword.

"Lautrec, my friend, come here!" cried D'Arcy. "_Ma foi!_ what an interesting group! Raoul and I for the Duke; Lautrec for Conde, and M. de Lalande for Mazarin. We only want a friend of De Retz to complete the party!"

"What?" cried Lautrec, looking at me with a broad smile, "the hero of Scarron's poem? The youngster from the country who tricked De Retz? M. de Lalande, I am delighted to meet you!"

"We will go to Perret's, and Lautrec shall sing us the famous song which Scarron wrote on our attempt to abduct the Cardinal," cried D'Arcy.

"But," said I in surprise, "it is not possible that the affair is openly talked about?"

"Why not? It is of the past. Who cares for yesterday's thunderstorm, especially when it did no damage? We are all brothers now."

"But is it safe to introduce a _Mazarin_ at Perret's?" asked Raoul.

"Have no fear," exclaimed Lautrec, "your young friend will be welcome; only we shall not tell him our secrets!" and he glanced roguishly at D'Arcy.

It seemed rather odd to be on terms of friendship with Mazarin's enemies, but this was only one of the strange features of this strange period. No one appeared able to remain serious long; a fight was followed by a banquet, and your opponent of the morning supped with you at night.

Lautrec was correct in saying that no one would molest me at Perret's, which was a large meeting-room, where we found a score of men, all young or at least not more than on the threshold of middle age, and all richly dressed, though none so extravagantly as the _petit maitre_.

"Messieurs," cried my new acquaintance, "we have brought you an illustrious visitor. Behold the youth whom Scarron has immortalised! A _Mazarin_, but a prince of good fellows!" and he clapped me on the back.

Had I been one of them they could not have received me in a more friendly manner, and in a very short time I was completely at my ease.

"Let us have the song, Lautrec," said D'Arcy, "our friend has not heard it."

"Yes, yes, the song!" cried the others, laughing, and Lautrec stood up to sing the famous song composed by the Abbe Scarron.

The author had been made acquainted with the principal facts, but my wonder at this soon gave place to amusement. Mazarin, De Retz, Henri, myself, and even poor Pillot, were covered with ridicule, and at each verse the merriment of the audience increased.

It appeared that my cousin, in order to explain his absence from the expedition, had given out that his leg was injured by a fall, and when Lautrec reached that part the whole company screamed with delight.

"Again Lautrec! Let us have the verse again! Oh the poor cousin Henri! What a terrible misfortune!" they cried.

As for me, I lay back in my chair, with the tears running down my cheeks, and Lautrec, beginning the verse again, the others took it up, roaring at the tops of their voices, a lament for my cousin's injury.

In the very midst of the confusion Henri himself opened the door, and stood in amazement, staring at the mad scene. Lautrec spied him immediately, and crying, "Ah, here is our dear cousin!" hobbled over to him on one leg, nursing the other and singing with all his might. D'Arcy, Raoul and the rest followed, and forming a ring danced round him like a pack of madmen. I could not help laughing at their antics, and, to my surprise, Henri, instead of being angry, joined heartily in the fun.

"Ah," he cried presently, spying me, "there is the rogue who caused all the mischief. I' faith, Albert, I did myself an ill turn in advising you to come to Paris. Well, it is done with now, but I warn you not to cross our path a second time."

He spoke in a jesting tone, and laughed loudly, but the look in his eyes told more than his words, and I guessed that for all his play my cousin would show me but scant mercy. Still, he was pleasant enough, and I passed a very agreeable hour in his company.

Presently Raoul, who was on night duty at the Luxembourg, was obliged to leave, and I, bidding my new acquaintances adieu, accompanied him.

"It is a pity you are not coming in," said he, half in jest, half in earnest, as we stopped at the gates; "we could have such pleasant times together."

"With young D'Arcy for a third!" I laughed. "No, no, Raoul; it looks tempting, but it wouldn't answer. I am not much in love with Mazarin, but France is safer with him than with your friends. Good-night. There is Peleton coming this way, and Maubranne with him."

"And neither of them is your particular friend. Shall I see you to-morrow evening if the truce lasts as long?"

"That depends on the Cardinal. If he doesn't require me I will be on the Pont Neuf at six, but don't stay after that time," and I walked off quickly, leaving Raoul to enter the courtyard of the palace a little before Peleton and the baron.

The next day Mazarin was invisible to every one except his secretary, but in the afternoon a note bearing his seal was brought to me in my room. Opening it hastily, I read the contents with a feeling of disappointment, as they did away altogether with any chance of a pleasant evening with Raoul.

"You will attend me, well armed and cloaked, at seven o'clock this evening."

"What is in the wind now?" I muttered. "It seems that we have to go outside the Palace at all events. Perhaps the adventure has something to do with my discovery at Martin's house. I pity the astrologer if he has made an enemy of Mazarin."

Serving the Cardinal had at least taught me the value of being punctual, and at seven o'clock precisely I presented myself at the door of his apartment. The Cardinal was dressed like a simple citizen, but over his black mantle he had thrown a long gray cloak, with a portion of which he could muffle his face. His first words filled me with surprise, and, for the moment, with alarm also.

"So your cousin did not appear angry last night at the trick you played him?" he remarked in his broken French; "but you must be careful, I hear he is not over well pleased."

"It seems to me that your Eminence hears everything," I replied bluntly, as soon as my feeling of surprise would allow me to speak.

Putting on his hat, he said with a smile, "To-night, thanks to you, I am going to hear something interesting. Evidently you were born under a lucky star, and I was fortunate in securing your services. Take care of yourself, my friend, for according to the stars our fortunes are bound up together."

It surprised me that so clever a man should believe that the stars had any influence over our lives, but I did not speak my thoughts, though likely enough he knew them, for he could read one's mind like a printed book.

"Come," said he at length; "this way; it is not necessary to advise every one that the Cardinal is about to walk in the city."

Raising the tapestry, he passed into a small corridor, where the faithful Bernouin awaited him.

"Has Belloc made all his arrangements?" asked Mazarin.

"Yes, your Eminence; everything is as you ordered."

"That is well. You will stay up till our return. I am not likely to require more help, but--in case of accidents--here is a signed order for Ferre to turn out the Guards. Do not use it, however, unless it is absolutely necessary."

The secretary bowed, and Mazarin conducted me by a private staircase, the very existence of which was known only to a few people, to the courtyard of the Palace.

"You do not ask where we are going," said he, as we walked along.

"It is not my business, your Eminence," I answered, but I could not help reflecting that Mazarin did not know himself. If the groups of citizens had guessed who my companion was, it is likely that his evening walk would have come to a sudden end.

Now, I have heard Mazarin called a coward who would faint at the sight of blood, but those who said these things spoke without knowledge. Being a man of peace, he disliked bloodshed, but many a boasting gallant would have held back from dangers which the Cardinal faced without hesitation.

On this eventful night he strolled quietly along, brushing shoulders with men who would gladly have slain him, and displaying no sign of nervousness. At the corner of the Pont Neuf he actually stopped to listen to the conversation of some citizens who were holding a kind of open-air parliament, and settling the affairs of the kingdom to their liking.

One fellow especially, dressed like a prosperous shopkeeper, was exceedingly loud in describing his plan to do away with the troubles, and I must admit that the first part of his remedy--the hanging of Mazarin--met with the hearty approval of the crowd.

"A beggarly foreigner!" said one.

"A miserable Italian priest!"

"A grasping, covetous miser!"

"He fancies that the French people were made for the purpose of keeping his nieces like princesses!"

"Well, that is settled!" interrupted the first speaker. "Then, after hanging Mazarin, I would put the Queen in a convent--she has done the country enough mischief."

"That's a grand idea," exclaimed one of the group. "How can a woman rule a country? And, besides, Anne of Austria is only a foreigner!"

I marvelled that Mazarin continued to listen to such stuff, especially as he was risking his life, but he seemed in no hurry to depart, and, indeed, craned his neck forward quite eagerly.

"Next," continued the orator, "we shall require a new regent until the little King is able to take the reins into his own hands."

"True," interrupted one of his listeners, "and who better than the Duke of Orleans?"

"Pouf! Gaston is no use! He blows hot and cold with the same breath. He would send the Queen to a convent, and alter his mind while they were unlocking the gates. No, my friends, we need a man with a strong arm and a stout heart; a leader whom the soldiers love; a general whom the Spaniards fear; a prince of the blood who would make France great, powerful, glorious; the hero of Locroi and Lens, the finest soldier in the world, the great Conde."

The orator finished amidst an outburst of cheering, which was renewed again and again, till hundreds of people were shouting for Conde.

"It is certain," said the Cardinal, turning to me, "that you bring me luck. I will chance another turn of the wheel. Go to that man and tell him the Duc de La Rochefoucauld says he has done splendidly, but that he must not bear so hard on Gaston. Mind that you watch his face closely. I will stay for you yonder in the shadow of the buttress."

Why the Cardinal gave me this strange order I could not guess, but it was none of my business, so, taking the orator aside, I delivered the message word for word. The man's eyes sparkled with joy; he begged me to thank the Duke, and to add that he would remember the hint concerning Gaston of Orleans. More hopelessly perplexed than ever, I returned to Mazarin, and related what had passed, on which he smiled with a satisfied air, and hurried me away.

"A clever rogue whose master should not begrudge him his wages!" he said with a quiet chuckle, "though he has made one grave mistake to-night. But what extraordinary luck! Surely my star must be in the ascendant! Ah, Martin, my friend, one need not necessarily be an astrologer to foretell the future."

From this speech I gathered two pieces of information. First, that we were on our way to the astrologer's, and second that our visit was in some way mixed up with the knowledge I had already obtained. The scene on the Pont Neuf I did not understand. The Black Mantle who had stirred up the people on behalf of Conde could be no friend to Mazarin, yet the Cardinal had sent me to him with a most astounding message. Then again, every one knew that La Rochefoucauld was Conde's righthand man, but he was supposed to be far away from Paris.

Ah! That gave me a clue, and I looked at Mazarin in amazed wonder. How clever he was! From a hint here and a word there he had discovered that a huge plot was on foot. I did not know the truth till later, but it may as well be set down here.

The Cardinal's enemies found they could accomplish nothing without Conde, but that prince and his brother were in prison. After a great deal of talk it was decided that La Rochefoucauld should visit Paris and stir up the people to demand Conde's release. The Black Mantle on the bridge was no ordinary citizen, but an agent paid by the prince's friends, and Mazarin by his mock message had gone right to the heart of the secret.

This successful stroke had put him in the best of humours, and from time to time he laughed quietly to himself as if enjoying some rich joke. Everywhere the crowd was cheering for Conde, and threatening to hang Mazarin, but my companion proceeded calmly on his journey.

"Through the Rue Croquin," said he presently; "it may be quieter in that direction, and I wish to think."

Unfortunately, about half-way along the street a mob of people, among whom were several Black Mantles, had gathered round a man who offered for sale copies of a song he was singing. He was a sturdy knave with a deep voice, and he sang so lustily that it was impossible to avoid hearing every word.

These songs poured continually from the printing-presses of the Frondeurs, who thought, and perhaps rightly, that an ink-bottle could work more harm than a cannon. Many were witty and laughable, but this one was merely a string of vulgar abuse of the Queen-Mother.

"_Peste_," said I, losing my temper, "these hawkers are becoming too impudent."

"A _Mazarin_!" cried the man next to me. "Down with the _Mazarin_!"

"A fig for Mazarin! He is a man and can defend himself, but Anne of Austria is not only a Queen but a woman. I say shame on the Frenchmen who will let a woman be insulted."

"Monsieur is right," exclaimed one of the Black Mantles quickly; "though I bear no good-will to Anne of Austria."

The speaker who had thus interfered possessed a certain amount of influence; the crowd, instead of rushing forward, remained still; the mutterings died away, and some one, seizing the hawker's papers, trampled them in the mud, and shouted, "Down with Mazarin! Live the Queen!"

Others responded, and, pleased with the new cry, ran off yelling lustily, "Down with Mazarin! Live the Queen!" while the miserable singer, a victim to the fickleness of popular favour, slunk away, muttering beneath his breath.

I do not know how the Cardinal felt at being mixed up in such an adventure, but he behaved like a man of spirit, and stood close at my side throughout the whole affair.

"_Ma foi!_" said he, as we moved on again, "you are not an over-prudent companion. Suppose one of those fellows had plucked at my cloak? I fancy both the Cardinal and his servant would have received but short shrift."

"We should have died for the Queen, my Lord!"

Mazarin shrugged his shoulders and answered drily, "I prefer my friends to live. It is my _enemies_ who should get themselves killed. But listen!" and from a distance came a tremendous roar of "Down with Mazarin! Live the Queen!"

"It is strange," muttered the Cardinal, "how these people will cheer for every one but me, yet I have done them more good than all the others put together. But come, unless the stars play me false, these same folk shall raise my name as high as the rest."

"Till the wind blows from a fresh quarter," I muttered, watching the hawker; and, indeed, it seemed to me that Mazarin, though a shrewd man, was striving for an empty honour.

However, there was little leisure for thinking just then; we walked on rapidly, turning to the right at the end of the Rue Croquin, and made our way through several side streets which were nearly deserted. After a long roundabout journey we approached the neighbourhood where Martin lived, when suddenly an officer whom I recognised as Roland Belloc stepped out from a hiding place.

"Have you posted your soldiers?" asked Mazarin quietly.

"Every avenue is guarded. No one can enter or leave the street unchallenged."

"The men are well out of sight?"

"It would take your Eminence a long time to discover them!" replied the veteran warrior smiling.

"That is well. People who saw them might be curious. There is nothing fresh going on yonder?" and he waved his hand in the direction of Martin's house.

"No, except that we arrived just in time to see Pillot going away."

"Did you secure him?"

"No, my Lord; I had no orders to detain him."

"Chut!" exclaimed Mazarin testily, "you should have acted without orders. By the way, did you know that La Rochefoucauld is in Paris? The game grows very exciting," and he laughed softly at Belloc's astonishment.

"We must strike at once," said the old soldier.

"On the contrary, we will wait till the blow will do the most mischief. That is why I shall spare the good Martin--for a time. Now I am going to pay my visit. There is not much chance of danger, but if the unexpected happens, why, in that case, a Cardinal's life is worth more than that of an astrologer. Eh? my trusty Belloc?"

"Perhaps it will be as well for me to accompany you," said the soldier. "M. de Lalande, here, is a trusty fellow, but after all he is only a boy, and if----"

"The danger, if there be any, will come from the outside," interrupted the Cardinal. "Let your men keep strict watch, and we will take care of ourselves. Come;" and while Belloc slipped into a doorway, we turned the corner and crossed to that side of the street on which the astrologer's house stood.

Using his private signal Mazarin knocked boldly at the door; the window above us opened, and the servant, finding who his master's visitors were, hurried to let us in. The bolts were hastily shot back, the bars lowered, and then the door was thrown open by the obsequious porter, who stood bowing almost to the ground. Several lanterns suspended along the wall shed a dim light through the passage, and a second man, bearing another lantern, hastily came forward to conduct us.

I could not help thinking as we stepped inside, how completely the astrologer held Mazarin in his power!