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"Monsieur," said the servant, "I do not know if you will find Madame de
Montpensier in Paris or its environs; but go to a house in the Faubourg
St. Antoine, called Bel-Esbat, which belongs to the duchesse; it is the
first on the left hand going to Vincennes, after the convent of the
Jacobins. You will be sure to find some one there in the service of the
duchesse sufficiently in her confidence to be able to tell you where
Madame la Duchesse is just now."

"Thank you," said Ernanton, who saw that the man either could or would
say no more.

He found Bel-Esbat easily, and without more inquiries, rang, and the
door opened.

"Enter," said a man, who then seemed to wait for some password, but as
Ernanton did not give any, he asked him what he wanted.

"I wish to speak to Madame la Duchesse de Montpensier."

"And why do you come here for her?"

"Because the porter at the Hotel Guise sent me here."

"Madame la Duchesse is not here."

"That is unlucky, as it will prevent me from fulfilling the mission with
which M. de Mayenne charged me."

"For Madame la Duchesse?"

"Yes."

"From M. le Duc de Mayenne?"

"Yes."

The valet reflected a moment. "Monsieur," said he, "I cannot answer;
there is some one else whom I must consult. Please to wait."

"These people are well served," thought Ernanton. "Certainly, they must
be dangerous people who think it necessary to hide themselves in this
manner. One cannot enter a house of the Guises as you can the Louvre. I
begin to think that it is not the true king of France whom I serve."

He looked round him; the courtyard was deserted, but all the doors of
the stables were open, as if they expected some troop to enter and take
up their quarters. He was interrupted by the return of the valet,
followed by another.

"Leave me your horse, monsieur," said he, "and follow my comrade; you
will find some one who can answer you much better than I can."

Ernanton followed the valet, and was shown into a little room, where a
simply though elegantly dressed lady was seated at an embroidery frame.

"Here is the gentleman from M. de Mayenne, madame," said the servant.

She turned, and Ernanton uttered a cry of surprise.

"You, madame!" cried he, recognizing at once his page and the lady of
the litter.

"You!" cried the lady in her turn, letting her work drop, and looking at
Ernanton.

"Leave us," said she to the valet.

"You are of the household of Madame de Montpensier, madame?" said
Ernanton.

"Yes; but you, monsieur, how do you bring here a message from the Duc de
Mayenne?"

"Through unforeseen circumstances, which it would take too long to
repeat," replied Ernanton, cautiously.

"Oh! you are discreet, monsieur," said the lady, smiling.

"Yes, madame, whenever it is right to be so."

"But I see no occasion for your discretion here; for, if you really
bring a message from the person you say--Oh! do not look angry; if you
really do, I say, it interests me sufficiently that, in remembrance of
our acquaintance, short though it was, you should tell it to me."

The lady threw into these words all the caressing and seductive grace
that a pretty woman can.

"Madame," replied Ernanton, "you cannot make me tell what I do not
know."

"And still less what you will not tell."

"Madame, all my mission consists in delivering a letter to her
highness."

"Well, then, give me the letter," said the lady, holding out her hand.

"Madame, I believed I had had the honor of telling you that this letter
was addressed to the duchesse."

"But, as the duchesse is absent, and I represent her here, you may--"

"I cannot, madame."

"You distrust me, monsieur?"

"I ought to do so, madame; but," said the young man, with an expression
there was no mistaking, "in spite of the mystery of your conduct, you
have inspired me, I confess, with very different sentiments."

"Really," said the lady, coloring a little under Ernanton's ardent gaze.

Ernanton bowed.

"Take care, monsieur," said she, laughing, "you are making a declaration
of love."

"Yes, madame; I do not know if I may ever see you again, and the
opportunity is too precious for me to let it slip."

"Then, monsieur, I understand."

"That I love you, madame; that is easy to understand."

"No, but how you came here."

"Ah, pardon, madame, but now it is I who do not understand."

"I think that, wishing to see me again, you invented a pretext to get
in."

"I, madame! you judge me ill. I was ignorant if I should ever see you
again, and I hoped only from chance, which already had twice thrown me
in your way; but invent a pretext I could never do. I am strange,
perhaps; I do not think like all the world."

"Oh! you say you are in love, and you have scruples as to the manner of
introducing yourself again to her you love. It is very fine, monsieur,
but I partly guessed it."

"How, madame, if you please?"

"The other day you met me; I was in a litter, you recognized me, and you
did not follow me."

"Madame, you are confessing you paid some attention to me."

"And why not? Surely the way in which we first met justified my putting
my head out of my litter to look after you when you passed. But you
galloped away, after uttering an 'Ah!' which made me tremble in my
litter."

"I was forced to go away, madame."

"By your scruples?"

"No, madame, by my duty."

"Well!" said the lady, laughing, "I see that you are a reasonable,
circumspect lover, who, above all things, fears to compromise himself."

"If you had inspired me with certain fears, there would be nothing
astonishing in it. Is it customary that a woman should dress as a man,
force the barriers, and come to see an unfortunate wretch drawn to
pieces, using meanwhile all sorts of gesticulations perfectly
incomprehensible?"

The lady grew rather pale, although she tried to smile.

Ernanton went on. "Is it natural also that this lady, after this strange
announcement, fearful of being arrested, should fly as though she were a
thief, although she is in the service of Madame de Montpensier, a
powerful princess, although not much in favor at court?"

This time the lady smiled again, but ironically.

"You are not clear-sighted, monsieur, in spite of your pretension to be
an observer: for, with a little sense, all that seems obscure to you
would have been explained. Was it not very natural that Madame de
Montpensier should be interested in the fate of M. de Salcede, in what
he might be tempted to say, what true or false revelations he might
utter to compromise the house of Lorraine? And if that was natural,
monsieur, was it not also so, that this princess should send some one,
some safe, intimate friend, to be present at the execution, and bring
her all the details? Well, monsieur, this person was I. Now, do you
think I could go in my woman's dress? Do you think I could remain
indifferent to what was going on?"

"You are right, madame; and now I admire as much your logic and talent
as I did before your beauty."

"Thank you, monsieur. And now that we know each other, and that
everything is explained, give me the letter, since it does exist."

"Impossible, madame."

The unknown seemed trying not to grow angry. "Impossible?" repeated she.

"Yes, impossible; for I swore to M. de Mayenne to deliver it only to the
duchesse herself."

"Say, rather," cried the lady, giving way to her irritation, "that you
have no letter; that, in spite of your pretended scruples, it was a mere
pretext for getting in here; that you wished to see me again, and that
was all. Well, monsieur, you are satisfied; not only you have effected
your entrance, but you have seen me, and have told me you adore me."

"In that, as in all the rest, I have told you truth, madame."

"Well, so be it, you adore me; you wished to see me, and you have seen
me. I have procured you a pleasure in return for a service. We are
quits. Adieu!"

"I will obey you, madame; since you send me away, I will go."

"Yes," cried she, now really angry, "but if you know me, I do not know
you. You have too much advantage over me. Ah! you think you can enter,
on some pretext, into the house of a princess, and go away and say, 'I
succeeded in my perfidy.' Ah! monsieur, that is not the behavior of a
gallant man."

"It seems to me, madame, that you are very hard on what would have been,
after all, only a trick of love, if it had not been, as I have already
told you, an affair of the greatest importance. I put aside all your
injurious expressions, and I will forget all I might have said,
affectionate or tender, since you are so badly disposed toward me. But I
will not go out from here under the weight of your unworthy suspicions.
I have a letter from the duke for Madame de Montpensier, and here it is;
you can see the handwriting and the address."

Ernanton held out the letter to the lady, but without leaving go of it.

She cast her eyes on it, and cried, "His writing! Blood!"

Without replying, Ernanton put the letter back in his pocket, bowed low,
and, very pale and bitterly hurt, turned to go. But she ran after him,
and caught him by the skirt of his cloak.

"What is it, madame?" said he.

"For pity's sake, pardon me; has any accident happened to the duke?"

"You ask me to pardon you, only that you may read this letter, and I
have already told you that no one shall read it but the duchesse."

"Ah! obstinate and stupid that you are," cried the duchess, with a fury
mingled with majesty; "do you not recognize me?--or rather, could you
not divine that I was the mistress?--and are these the eyes of a
servant? I am the Duchesse de Montpensier; give me the letter."

"You are the duchesse!" cried Ernanton, starting back.

"Yes, I am. Give it to me; I want to know what has happened to my
brother."

But instead of obeying, as the duchess expected, the young man,
recovering from his first surprise, crossed his arms.

"How can I believe you, when you have already lied to me twice?"

The duchess's eyes shot forth fire at these words, but Ernanton stood
firm.

"Ah! you doubt still--you want proofs!" cried she, tearing her lace
ruffles with rage.

"Yes, madame."

She darted toward the bell, and rang it furiously; a valet appeared.

"What does madame want?" said he.

She stamped her foot with rage. "Mayneville!" cried she, "I want
Mayneville. Is he not here?"

"Yes, madame."

"Let him come here."

The valet went, and, a minute after, Mayneville entered.

"Did you send for me, madame?" said he.

"Madame! And since when am I simply madame?" cried she angrily.

"Your highness!" said Mayneville, in surprise.

"Good!" said Ernanton, "I have now a gentleman before me, and if he has
lied, I shall know what to do."

"You believe then, at last?" said the duchess.

"Yes, madame, I believe, and here is the letter;" and, bowing, the young
man gave to Madame de Montpensier the letter so long disputed.




CHAPTER XLI.

THE LETTER OF M. DE MAYENNE.


The duchess seized the letter, opened it, and read it eagerly, while
various expressions passed over her face, like clouds over the sky. When
she had finished, she gave it to Mayneville to read. It was as follows:

"MY SISTER--I tried to do myself the work I should have left to
others, and I have been punished for it. I have received a sword
wound from the fellow whom you know. The worst of it is, that he
has killed five of my men, and among them Boularon and Desnoises,
who are my best, after which he fled. I must tell you that he was
aided by the bearer of this letter, a charming young man, as you
may see. I recommend him to you; he is discretion itself.

"One merit which he will have, I presume, in your eyes, my dear
sister, is having prevented my conqueror from killing me, as he
much wished, having pulled off my mask when I had fainted, and
recognized me.

"I recommend you, sister, to discover the name and profession of
this discreet cavalier; for I suspect him, while he interests me.
To my offers of service, he replied that the master whom he served
let him want for nothing.

"I can tell you no more about him, but that he pretends not to know
me. I suffer much, but believe my life is not in danger. Send me my
surgeon at once; I am lying like a horse upon straw, the bearer
will tell you where.

"Your affectionate brother,

"MAYENNE."

When they had finished reading, the duchess and Mayneville looked at
each other in astonishment. The duchess broke the silence first.

"To whom," said she, "do we owe the signal service that you have
rendered us, monsieur?"

"To a man who, whenever he can, helps the weak against the strong."

"Will you give me some details, monsieur?"

Ernanton told all he had seen, and named the duke's place of retreat.

Madame de Montpensier and Mayneville listened with interest. When he had
finished, the duchess said:

"May I hope, monsieur, that you will continue the work so well begun,
and attach yourself to our house?"

These words, said in the gracious tone that the duchess knew so well how
to use, were very flattering to Ernanton, after the avowal which he had
made; but the young man, putting vanity aside, attributed them to simple
curiosity.

He knew well that the king, in making it a condition that he should
reveal the duchess's place of abode, had some object in view. Two
interests contended within him--his love, _that_ he might sacrifice; and
his honor, which he could not. The temptation was all the stronger, that
by avowing his position near the king, he should gain an enormous
importance in the eyes of the duchess; and it was not a light
consideration for a young man to be important in the eyes of the
Duchesse de Montpensier. St. Maline would not have resisted a minute.
All these thoughts rushed through Ernanton's mind, but ended by making
him stronger than before.

"Madame," said he, "I have already had the honor of telling M. de
Mayenne that I serve a good master, who treats me too well for me to
desire to seek another."

"My brother tells me in his letter, monsieur, that you seemed not to
recognize him. How, if, you did not know him, then, did you use his name
to penetrate to me?"

"M. de Mayenne seemed to wish to preserve his incognito, madame; and I,
therefore, did not think I ought to recognize him; and it might have
been disagreeable for the peasants to know what an illustrious guest
they were entertaining. Here there was no reason for secrecy; on the
contrary, the name of M. de Mayenne opened the way to you; so I thought
that here, as there, I acted rightly."

The duchess smiled, and said, "No one could extricate himself better
from an embarrassing question: and you are, I must confess, a clever
man."

"I see no cleverness in what I have had the honor of telling you,
madame."

"Well, monsieur," said the duchess, impatiently, "I see clearly that you
will tell nothing. You do not reflect that gratitude is a heavy burden
for one of my house to bear; that you have twice rendered me a service,
and that if I wished to know your name, or rather who you are--"

"I know, madame, you would learn it easily; but you would learn it from
some one else, and I should have told nothing."

"He is always right," cried the duchess, with a look which gave Ernanton
more pleasure than ever a look had done before. Therefore he asked no
more, but like the gourmand who leaves the table when he thinks he has
had the best bit, he bowed, and prepared to take leave.

"Then, monsieur, that is all you have to tell me?" asked the duchess.

"I have executed my commission, and it only remains for me to present my
humble respects to your highness."

The duchess let him go, but when the door shut behind him, she stamped
her foot impatiently.

"Mayneville," said she, "have that young man followed."

"Impossible, madame; all our household are out, I myself am waiting for
the event. It is a bad day on which to do anything else than what we
have decided to do."

"You are right, Mayneville; but afterward--"

"Oh! afterward, if you please, madame."

"Yes; for I suspect him, as my brother does."

"He is a brave fellow, at all events; and really we are lucky, a
stranger coming to render us such a service."

"Nevertheless, Mayneville, have him watched. But night is falling, and
Valois must be returning from Vincennes."

"Oh! we have time before us; it is not eight o'clock, and our men have
not arrived."

"All have the word, have they not?"

"All."--"They are trustworthy?"

"Tried, madame."

"How many do you expect?"

"Fifty; it is more than necessary, for besides them we have two hundred
monks, as good as soldiers, if not better."

"As soon as our men have arrived, range your monks on the road."

"They are all ready, madame; they will intercept the way, our men will
push the carriage toward them, the gates of the convent will be open,
and will have but to close behind the carriage."

"Let us sup, then, Mayneville, it will pass the time. I am so impatient,
I should like to push the hands of the clock."

"The hour will come; be easy."

"But our men?"

"They will be here; it is hardly eight."

"Mayneville, my poor brother asks for his surgeon; the best surgeon, the
best cure for his wound, will be a lock of the Valois's shaved head, and
the man who should carry him that present, Mayneville, would be sure to
be welcome."

"In two hours, madame, that man shall set out to find our dear duke in
his retreat; he who went out of Paris as a fugitive shall return
triumphantly."

"One word more, Mayneville; are our friends in Paris warned?"

"What friends?"--"The leaguers."

"Heaven forbid, madame; to tell a bourgeois is to tell all Paris. Once
the deed is done, and the prisoner safe in the cloister, we can defend
ourselves against an army. Then we should risk nothing by crying from
the roof of the convent, 'We have the Valois!'"

"You are both skillful and prudent, Mayneville. Do you know, though,
that my responsibility is great, and that no woman will ever have
conceived and executed such a project?"

"I know it, madame; therefore I counsel you in trembling."

"The monks will be armed under their robes?"

"Yes."

"Mind you kill those two fellows whom we saw pass, riding at the sides
of the carriage, then we can describe what passes as pleases us best."

"Kill those poor devils, madame! do you think that necessary?"

"De Loignac! would he be a great loss?"

"He is a brave soldier."

"A parvenu, like that other ill-looking fellow who pranced on the left,
with his fiery eyes and his black skin."

"Oh! that one I do not care so much about; I do not know him, and I
agree with your highness in disliking his looks."

"Then you abandon him to me?" laughed the duchess.

"Oh! yes, madame. What I said was only for your renown, and the morality
of the party that we represent."

"Good; Mayneville, I know you are a virtuous man, and I will sign you a
certificate of it if you like. You need have nothing to do with it; they
will defend the Valois and get killed. To you I recommend that young
man."

"Who?"

"He who just left us; see if he be really gone, and if he be not some
spy sent by our enemies."

Mayneville opened the window, and tried to look out.

"Oh! what a dark night," said he.

"An excellent night: the darker the better. Therefore, good courage, my
captain."

"Yes, but we shall see nothing."

"God, whom we fight for, will see for us."

Mayneville, who did not seem quite so sure of the intervention of
Providence in affairs of this nature, remained at the window looking
out.

"Do you see any one?" asked the duchess.

"No, but I hear the tramp of horses."

"It is they; all goes well." And the duchess touched the famous pair of
golden scissors at her side.




CHAPTER XLII.

HOW DOM GORENFLOT BLESSED THE KING AS HE PASSED BEFORE THE PRIORY OF THE
JACOBINS.


Ernanton went away with a full heart but a quiet conscience; he had had
the singular good fortune to declare his love to a princess, and to get
over the awkwardness which might have resulted from it by the important
conversation which followed. He had neither betrayed the king, M. de
Mayenne, nor himself. Therefore he was content, but he still wished for
many things, and, among others, a quick return to Vincennes, where the
king expected him; then to go to bed and dream. He set off at full
gallop as soon as he left Bel-Esbat, but he had scarcely gone a hundred
yards when he came on a body of cavaliers who stretched right across the
road. He was surrounded in a minute, and half a dozen swords and pistols
presented at him.

"Oh!" said Ernanton, "robbers on the road, a league from Paris--"

"Silence, if you please," said a voice that Ernanton thought he
recognized. "Your sword, your arms; quick."

And one man seized the bridle of the horse, while another stripped him
of his arms.

"Peste! what clever thieves!" said Ernanton. "At least, gentlemen, do me
the favor to tell me--"

"Why it is M. de Carmainges!" said the man who had seized his sword.

"M. de Pincornay!" cried Ernanton. "Oh, fie; what a bad trade you have
taken up."

"I said silence," cried the voice of the chief; "and take this man to
the depot."

"But, M. de St. Maline, it is our companion, Ernanton de Carmainges."

"Ernanton here!" cried St. Maline, angrily; "what is he doing here?"

"Good-evening, gentlemen," said Carmainges; "I did not, I confess,
expect to find so much good company."

"Diable!" growled St. Maline; "this is unforeseen."

"By me also, I assure you," said Ernanton, laughing.

"It is embarrassing; what were you doing here?"

"If I asked you that question, would you answer?"

"No."

"Then let me act as you would."

"Then you will not tell me?"

"No."

"Nor where you were going?"

Ernanton did not answer.

"Then, monsieur, since you do not explain, I must treat you like any
other man."

"Do what you please, monsieur; only I warn you, you will have to answer
for it."

"To M. de Loignac?"

"Higher than that."

"M. d'Epernon?"

"Higher still."

"Well, I have my orders, and I shall send you to Vincennes."

"That is capital; it is just where I was going."

"It is lucky that this little journey pleases you so much."

Ernanton was then conducted by his companions to the courtyard of
Vincennes. Here he found fifty disarmed cavaliers, who, looking pale and
dispirited, and surrounded by fifty light horse, were deploring their
bad fortune, and anticipating a disastrous ending to an enterprise so
well planned. The Forty-five had taken all these men, either by force or
cunning, as they had, for precaution, come to the rendezvous either
singly, or two or three together at most. Now all this would have
rejoiced Ernanton had he understood it, but he saw without
understanding.

"Monsieur," said he to St. Maline, "I see that you were told of the
importance of my mission, and that, fearing some accident for me, you
were good enough to take the trouble to escort me here: now I will tell
you that you were right; the king expects me, and I have important
things to say to him. I will tell the king what you have done for his
service."

St. Maline grew red and then pale; but he understood, being clever when
not blinded by passion, that Ernanton spoke the truth, and that he was
expected. There was no joking with MM. de Loignac and d'Epernon;
therefore he said, "You are free, M. Ernanton; I am delighted to have
been agreeable to you."

Ernanton waited for no more, but began to mount the staircase which led
to the king's room. St. Maline followed him with his eyes, and saw De
Loignac meet him on the stairs, and sign to him to come on. De Loignac
then descended to see the captives with his own eyes, and pronounced the
road perfectly safe and free for the king's return. He knew nothing of
the Jacobin convent, and the artillery and musketry of the fathers. But
D'Epernon did, being perfectly informed by Nicholas Poulain. Therefore,
when De Loignac came and said to his chief, "Monsieur, the roads are
free," D'Epernon replied:

"Very well, the king orders that the Forty-five guards form themselves
into three compact bodies, one to go before and one on each side of the
carriage, so that if there be any firing it may not reach the carriage."

"Very good!" said De Loignac, "only I do not see where firing is to come
from."

"At the priory of the Jacobins, monsieur, they must draw close."

This dialogue was interrupted by the king, who descended the staircase,
followed by several gentlemen, among whom St. Maline, with rage in his
heart, recognized Ernanton.

"Gentlemen," said the king, "are my brave Forty-five all here?"

"Yes, sire," said D'Epernon, showing them.

"Have the orders been given?"

"Yes, sire, and will be followed."

"Let us go, then!"

The light horse were left in charge of the prisoners, and forbidden to
address a word to them. The king got into his carriage with his naked
sword by his side, and, as nine o'clock struck, they set off.

M. de Mayneville was still at his window, only he was infinitely less
tranquil and hopeful, for none of his soldiers had appeared, and the
only sound heard along the silent black road was now and then horses'
feet on the road to Vincennes. When this occurred, Mayneville and the
duchess vainly tried to see what was going on. At last Mayneville became
so anxious that he sent off a man on horseback, telling him to inquire
of the first body of cavaliers he met. The messenger did not return, so
the duchess sent another, but neither reappeared.