Chapter 9

I Meet with an Exciting Adventure.

About nine o'clock we came to a country inn where I decided to halt, and the troopers, well pleased at the prospect of refreshment, proceeded to stable the horses, while the hostess showed madame and her niece into the best room of the house. The arrival of such a large party caused some consternation, but the host and his servants bustled about cheerfully, and the soldiers were soon sitting down to a rough but abundant meal.

Having seen them satisfactorily settled, I was debating whether to intrude myself on the ladies or not, when the innkeeper informed me that they desired to see me. Accordingly, after speaking a word to the sergeant, I went upstairs, and entered the room where they sat at table.

Madame Coutance, who shortly before had sulked like a spoiled child, had now regained her good humour, and received me with smiles.

"Come, Sir Gaoler, it is not polite to keep your guests waiting," she exclaimed, and I excused myself on the ground of being uncertain whether my presence would be agreeable.

"Certainly! we require you as a taster. The Duke of Beaufort was allowed one at Vincennes, and you would not count him of more consequence than two ladies?"

"I' faith!" I exclaimed, glancing at the viands, "if I am to play that part, there will be little for those who come after me. The night's ride has given me a wolf's appetite!"

"In that case," said Marie laughing, "we will be our own tasters. Sit down, Albert, and let us begin."

For some reason best known to herself, or perhaps for no reason at all, Madame Coutance had become reconciled to the situation. I was received into favour again. We laughed and joked merrily, and resumed the journey in the best of good humour. The leathern coverings were fastened back, and I rode beside the open carriage more as an attendant cavalier than as the officer of an escort. This was far more agreeable to me, though I found it rather awkward to answer some of the questions which madame asked concerning the Cardinal.

"It is a pity the plot was discovered," she said; "in a day or two at the outside Mazarin would have been lost."

"Conde is still in prison," I remarked meaningly.

"He will soon be free. The people are rising, and Mazarin will not dare to keep him in captivity. Ah, my friend, the tables will be turned then!"

"I wish these useless squabbles were at an end," said Marie.

"Have patience, child," exclaimed her aunt, "all will come right in time," and, turning to me, she added, "how long am I expected to remain at Aunay?"

"The Cardinal mentioned a month or two."

"Good faith!" she exclaimed with a toss of her head, "the Cardinal will be over the borders before then!"

"It may be so," I admitted, not anxious to dispute the point.

We were still several miles from Aunay, when the sergeant, who rode with two men in the rear, trotted forward briskly, and reining up my horse, I waited for the soldier to speak.

"Are we likely to be pursued, monsieur?" asked he.

"It is just possible. Why?"

"Because there are a score of horsemen on our track. Pierre, who has keen sight, declares they are cavaliers, young bloods most likely, from Paris."

In a few minutes they came within sight, and, as they approached more closely, I recognised that Pierre's description was correct. They certainly were not ordinary soldiers, and the only doubt remaining was whether they were friends or foes.

The grizzled sergeant decided the question for me.

"Frondeurs, monsieur," he announced with the utmost coolness.

"Then they intend to rescue our prisoners. Can we throw them off?"

"We can try, monsieur, but they will probably overtake us in ten minutes."

"Then we must fight, though the odds are terribly against us."

"As monsieur pleases; we have only to obey orders," and without another word he recalled the soldiers who were in advance.

"What is it?" cried Madame Coutance, excitedly, as I returned to the carriage, "what has happened?"

"Nothing as yet," I answered smiling; "but some of your party have followed us from Paris. For what purpose I leave you to guess."

She clapped her hands and laughed like a child; it just suited her to be the central figure in any kind of adventure.

"A rescue!" she cried. "Marie, do you hear? Our brave cavaliers think we are being dragged to prison, and have come to rescue us. Ah, the fine fellows! How vexed Mazarin will be! Perhaps he imagined I had no friends!"

"Their folly can only do harm, madame," I replied.

"Chut! what absurdity! It is a rich joke, and Scarron shall make a song about it. How they will laugh when I explain that we are going to Aunay and not to prison!"

During this conversation Marie, had remained silent, but now in a low voice she asked, "Are there many, Albert?"

"A score, perhaps," I replied; "but do not be alarmed. As your aunt says, they will probably regard the venture as a rich joke. Now I must go to my men," and I ordered the coachman to drive on rapidly.

The six troopers rode three abreast behind the coach, which rattled along swiftly, while the sergeant and I followed. Each instant brought our pursuers nearer, and it soon became evident that they were able to ride us down.

"Pardon, monsieur," said the sergeant, "but if there is to be a fight we had better get it over. At present we are only spoiling our horses."

"True," I replied, and called on the troopers to halt.

The cavaliers were advancing at a gallop. Foremost of the throng rode my cousin Henri and Baron Maubranne, while close in their rear pressed Peleton, and half a dozen horsemen with whose features I was unacquainted. Behind these again came several men whom I had met at Perret's--Armand d'Arcy, Lautrec, and finally, Raoul.

The sword trembled in my hand, and my heart sank on recognising Raoul. How could I fight against the staunch comrade who had always been dearer to me than a brother? It was impossible. For the sake of our friendship I must endeavour to avert a struggle.

The Frondeurs, I gladly believe, would have listened to reason but for Peleton and Baron Maubranne, who, with raised swords, rushed at me, yelling "Down with the _Mazarin_!"

In self-defence I was compelled to parry their blows, and Peleton, lunging rather wildly, received the point of my sword in his chest. At this the cavaliers, headed by Maubranne, charged us in a body, but my troopers withstood the shock manfully, and the baron rolled to the ground.

At the first clash of swords all thoughts of peace took wing; the intoxication of the fight got into our blood, and made us reckless. Spurring into the throng, I called on my men, who attacked with such zest that the cavaliers began to give way.

Henri, however, quickly rallied them; the fight was renewed with increased fury, and the air was filled with the clatter of steel and the shouts of the combatants.

The old sergeant had not praised his men without cause. They were seasoned soldiers, hard and tough as iron, and without the least sense of fear. Fighting was their trade, and they were masters of the craft.

As for myself, I could ride, and handle a sword, but this was my first experience of a fight. I forgot the lessons in sword-play my father had taught me, and struck out wildly, hitting right and left. I saw D'Arcy's smiling face go down before me, felt Lautrec's sword pierce my arm, and then came directly in front of Raoul.

As it chanced I was able to stay my hand at the very moment of striking, but Raoul, poor lad, had not the same good fortune, and, just as I lowered my weapon, his sword passed through my body. I am an old man now, but I can still see the look of horror on his face, and hear his cry of anguish. I remember smiling at him feebly and trying to speak; then the fading daylight vanished, and with the darkness came unconsciousness.

The next thing I can remember was Raoul asking some one if I should die. Not being able to see him I stretched out my hand, and he, bending over me, spoke my name softly.

"My men?" I whispered faintly.

"They are all living! Do you know who I am?"

"Yes. Raoul."

"If you do not go away, M. Beauchamp, you will kill my patient."

This was said in a voice soft and sweet as a child's, and I concluded the speaker was a doctor. Raoul made some reply, but I could not understand his words, and gradually my sense of hearing failed altogether. For weeks I lay hovering between life and death, and when at length I was able to look about me and realise something of what went on, I was painfully weak and helpless.

Thrice every day there came into my room a tall, grave, white-bearded man, who sometimes smiled kindly, but more often shook his head in a sorrowful manner. And always, throughout the day and night, there sat by my bedside a grief-stricken youth who tended me with the utmost care. This youth, so sad and melancholy, was Raoul, but Raoul so altered as to be scarcely recognisable. For hours he would sit motionless as a statue, then, rising gently, he would give me the medicine according to the doctor's orders, or smooth the tumbled pillow which I was helpless to re-arrange for myself.

One morning, waking after a long sleep, I felt considerably better. My comrade sat as usual beside the bed, but, wearied by the night watch, his head had sunk on his breast, and he had fallen asleep. I half turned to look at him more closely, but at the first movement he started up wide awake.

"Raoul!" I whispered.

"Albert!"

"It is all right, old friend; I shall get on now."

Grasping my hand, which lay outside the coverlet, he pressed it gently, and, kneeling down, gave thanks to God for this first step in my recovery.

"Amen to that," said I. "And now, my dear Raoul, tell me the news. Remember that I am ignorant of everything."

"First let me hear you say that you forgive me."

"Forgive you, old comrade? _Peste!_ there is nothing to forgive. Is it your fault that I am the less skilful hand with the sword?"

"That is nonsense," he replied slowly. "You could have killed me, but you refused to strike."

"Friendship stayed my arm in time."

"But not mine!"

"Then after all I am the more skilful swordsman!"

"I nearly killed you," he said, and his lip quivered.

"But not quite. Let us forget all about it."

From that morning I began to regain strength, and could soon converse with Raoul without fatigue. From him I learned that the safety of the troopers was due to Marie, who, leaving the carriage, and running to the scene of the fight, had called upon the Frondeurs to sheathe their swords.

"Two of your men were wounded, though not seriously," said Raoul; "young D'Arcy received a nasty cut; Maubranne was picked up insensible, and Peleton will not forget you for some time."

"But for him and Maubranne, there need not have been a fight."

"They have a spite against you, and will make mischief if they can."

"Never mind them. What became of the escort?"

"The wounded men were taken to the inn; the others returned to Paris. Madame Coutance insisted on your being brought to Aunay, and here you have remained ever since."

"Then really," I said, when Raoul gave me this information, "you have all done your best to fulfil Mazarin's orders!"

"It was a mistake. We believed the ladies were to be imprisoned at Reuil, and, besides, it was possible that Madame Coutance had possession of a valuable document."

"You should have searched the Palais Royal for that," I remarked with a laugh.

"You have spoiled our scheme for a time. Your cousin did the Fronde an ill turn when he advised you to go to Paris; you have proved a thorn in our side from the very first day."

I asked after D'Arcy, and found that he had returned with his friends to the capital, where new and startling plots were being hatched.

"Without a doubt we shall crush the Cardinal this time," exclaimed my comrade, whose good spirits revived with my increasing strength. "He will miss his trusty henchman, and there is really no one of importance on his side."

"Then De Retz has not received his red hat?"

"No! Mazarin played him a fine trick over that, and set all Paris laughing for weeks. The little abbe is desperately angry, and intends taking ample vengeance."

"How Marie's aunt must wish she were back in the Rue Crillon!"

"She has vowed not to leave Aunay till you have recovered. The doctor declares you owe your life to her and Marie, who nursed you during the first fortnight. By the way, your doublet was spoiled; so I sent for another; you shall put it on in the morning."

"To go downstairs?'

"If you can persuade the doctor to grant you permission. And now try to sleep, or you will be ill again."

The doctor appeared rather reluctant next morning to give his consent, but I begged so hard that at last he yielded, and Raoul helped me to dress. Then, leaning on the arm of my comrade, and partly supported by the medical man, I made my way to the drawing-room, where the ladies gave me a hearty welcome. The disagreeable part I had played in carrying out Mazarin's orders was forgotten; Madame Coutance could talk only about the fight, and her niece about my wounds.

"Between you all," I said, "you have saved my life."

"Next to God you have the doctor and Raoul to thank," remarked Marie.

"Raoul certainly," exclaimed her aunt laughing. "But for his sword-cut in the first place we could not have nursed you at all."

"It was, indeed, very kind of you," I replied, ignoring the first part of her speech, "especially as I am in the pay of the hated Mazarin."

"That is nothing, absolutely nothing. We are winning, and can afford to be generous. The Cardinal stands on the edge of a mine which will shortly explode. De Retz and your cousin Henri have made things certain this time; there will be no more mistakes."

There was something in her speech and manner which made me wonder why she was so bitter against the Cardinal. My recent adventures had taught me valuable lessons, and I knew that many of those who talked so loudly of liberty and justice had their own private schemes to advance at the expense of the public welfare; and I was half-inclined to think that Marie's aunt was a Frondeuse of this description. However, she was very kind to me, and I still look back on those early days of my recovery with a certain amount of pleasure.

From the date of my leaving home I had lived at high pressure, in a maze of intrigue and strife. My wits, such as they were, had ever been employed; my life had been in danger a score of times. The calm which followed this incessant scheming and fighting was delicious, and I did not feel very sorry that Raoul had given me a dig with his sword.

Though sorely needed by his patron, he refused to leave Aunay as long as I was in the slightest danger; the ladies treated me like a brother, while the doctor spared neither time nor trouble to bring about the restoration of my health. It was new to me to be thus petted, and I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Madame would not hear of my going home.

"That would be a fine thing indeed!" she exclaimed banteringly. "I mean to claim the credit of your recovery. But as soon as your strength returns you shall write, and I will provide a messenger to deliver your letter."

"My mother will be anxious," I said. "No doubt Belloc has told her something of what has happened."

"Make yourself easy on that head," exclaimed Raoul. "I thought of that, and sent D'Arcy to caution him. He will only mention that you have met with a slight accident."

This was very thoughtful as well as kind of my comrade, and I thanked him heartily.

Three weeks after my first coming downstairs, he took his departure for the capital. His patron had already sent him several urgent messages, and now that the doctor had pronounced me out of danger he felt it his duty to go.

"We are nearing the end," said he; "and the Duke has need of all his friends. Mazarin may make a desperate effort, but I prophesy that by the time you are well he will be dead or banished."

"In either case Paris will be no place for me, and I shall return to the farm."

"Not at all," he answered earnestly. "I shall speak to the Duke, and he will take you into his service."

Unwilling to vex him, I let the subject drop, though not having the slightest intention of joining the Cardinal's enemies. So I hobbled into the courtyard to witness his departure, and echoed his farewell, "Till we meet again," as he passed through the gateway.

At first I missed him a great deal, but each succeeding day increased my strength; I was able to walk alone, and altogether felt very comfortable. Either by myself or accompanied by the ladies I took the air on the terrace, or, wandering through the charming grounds, strolled by the margin of the silvery stream skirting the chateau.

The bitter strife of clashing interests, the tumult and horrors of the capital, did not extend to this peaceful spot; it might have been the heart of another country. The peasants were courteous and respectful, toiling patiently like oxen in yoke. As yet they had not learned their power, and the noble was still a master to be obeyed without murmur or complaint. Much to her aunt's annoyance, Marie went among them, smiling pleasantly, speaking kind words, bearing help to the distressed, soothing the sick, and treating them all, in fact, like human beings. At Aunay she was really happy, and her face wore an expression of content which one never saw in Paris.

"I could wish to live in the country always," she remarked once, "it is so peaceful after noisy, brawling Paris."

So the days glided by till there came to us in the chateau strange echoes of the outside world. The wildest rumours were repeated by the gentry of the neighbouring estates. One day we heard Conde was marching on Paris with ten thousand soldiers; the next that he had been poisoned in his cell at Havre. Some asserted that Mazarin, having made peace with De Retz, had triumphed over all his enemies, others that Orleans had hanged the Cardinal out of hand.

These tales agitated Madame Coutance, and I knew she longed to be back in the midst of the storm. While I remained at Aunay this was impossible, but, in spite of her desire, she would not let me depart.

"You will become a vegetable at Vancey," she said, "and I want to push your fortunes. Mazarin must soon be beaten, and you shall join the great prince. I have influence with him, and will use it."

Thanking her warmly, I pointed out that, having pledged my word to Mazarin, I could not accept the prince's favours.

"Bah!" she exclaimed, "no one can help a fallen favourite!"

"Then there is the Queen-Mother; I cannot range myself among her enemies."

"You are very simple," said madame smiling. "Anne of Austria has no enemies; we all bow to her and the little King. Conde is her chief friend," and with that she went away, leaving me to think over the matter.