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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..dc06706 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #68135 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/68135) diff --git a/old/68135-0.txt b/old/68135-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 5d34198..0000000 --- a/old/68135-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,16177 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Flower o' the lily, by Baroness -Emmuska Orczy - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Flower o' the lily - A romance of old Cambray - -Author: Baroness Emmuska Orczy - -Release Date: May 20, 2022 [eBook #68135] - -Language: English - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FLOWER O' THE LILY *** - - - - - - - - _Flower o' the Lily_ - - _A Romance of Old Cambray_ - - by Baroness Orczy - - - - _London Hodder and - Stoughton and at New - York and Toronto_ - - - - - - To - MY SON - JOHN MONTAGU ORCZY BARSTOW - 2nd Lieut. 17th Lancers - -I dedicate to you this story of the brave days of Old -Cambray, as a token of fervent prayer that the valiant -city will once again be freed from the thrall of foreign -foes by your gallant comrades in arms, as she was in -those far-off troublous times, which were so full of -heroism and of romance. - -EMMUSKA ORCZY - -BEARSTED, 1918. - - - - -CONTENTS - -CHAP. - -I How Messire Gilles de Crohin went for an -Excursion into the Land of Dreams - -II How a Noble Prince practised the Gentle Art -of Procrastination - -III How a Clever Woman outwitted an Obstinate Man - -IV How 'Monsieur' kept his Word - -V What Marguerite of Navarre did when she heard the News - -VI What Monseigneur d'Inchy and Messire Gilles -de Crohin Thought of One Another - -VII Why Madame Jacqueline was so Late in Getting to Bed - -VIII What Became of the Lilies - -IX How Messire Gilles was Reminded of a Dream - -X How the Quarrel Began - -XI And How it Ended - -XII How Two Letters came to be Written - -XIII How Madame Jacqueline was Gravely Puzzled - -XIV Which Treats of the Discomfiture of M. de Landas - -XV How M. de Landas Practised the Gentle Art of Treachery - -XVI What News Maître Jehan brought back with Him - -XVII How Messire de Landas' Treachery bore Fruit - -XVIII How a Second Awakening may be more Bitter than the First - -XIX What Jacqueline was Forced to Hear - -XX How More than one Plot was Hatched - -XXI How Some of these Succeeded-- - -XXII While Others Failed - -XXIII While Traitors are at Work - -XXIV The Defence of Cambray - -XXV How Cambray Starved and Endured - -XXVI What Value a Valois Prince Set upon his Word - -XXVII And this is the End of my Story - - - - -CHAPTER I - - HOW MESSIRE GILLES DE CROHIN WENT FOR AN - EXCURSION INTO THE LAND OF DREAMS - - -I - -When Gilles de Crohin, Sire de Froidmont, received that sabre-cut -upon his wrist--a cut, by the way, which had been dealt with such -efficacy that it very nearly severed his left hand from his arm--he -swore, so I understand, both lustily and comprehensively. I have not -a faithful record of what he did say, but from what I know of -Messire, I can indeed affirm that his language on the occasion was as -potent as it was direct and to the point. - -As for the weapon which had dealt that same forceful stroke, its -triumph was short-lived. Within the next few seconds its unconscious -career upon this earth was brought to a sudden and ignominious close: -it was broken into three separate pieces by a blow more vigorous than -even Messire Gilles himself had ever been known to deal. The hilt -went flying sky-high above the heads of the nearest combatants; part -of the blade was ground into the mud under the heel of Messire's -stout leather boot, whilst the point itself--together with a few more -inches of cold steel--was buried in the breast of that abominable -spadassin who had thought to lay so stalwart an enemy low. - -And, mind you, this would have been exceedingly satisfactory--the -life of a rascally Spaniard in exchange for a half-severed wrist--had -not some other rogue of the same ilk, who happened to be close by, -succeeded at that very instant in delivering a vigorous thrust into -the body of Maître Jehan le Bègue, the faithful friend and companion -of the Sire de Froidmont. Whereupon Gilles, maddened with rage, -slashed and charged upon the enemy with such lustihood that for an -instant the valiant French troops, which indeed were sore pressed, -rallied about him, and the issue of the conflict hung once more in -the balance. But alas! only for a few moments. The Spaniards, more -numerous and undoubtedly more highly skilled in the science of arms, -soon regained the advantage, and within a few hours after that, they -were driving the Netherlander and the French helter-skelter before -them, having gained a signal and decisive victory. - -This all occurred at Gembloux in Brabant, three and more years before -the events which I am about to put on record in this veracious -chronicle, and at the time when the Sire de Froidmont and his -faithful henchman, Jehan--surnamed le Bègue because he stuttered and -spluttered like a clucking hen--happened to be fighting in the -Netherlands at the head of a troop of French Protestants who had -rushed to support the brave followers of Orange against the powerful -armies of Alexander Farnese, Duke of Parma; and I use the word -'happened' advisedly, because in these days the knights and gentlemen -of France--aye, and the marshals and princes of blood, far finer -noblemen and lords than was the poor Sire de Froidmont--were wont to -fight now on one side, now on the other--now on the Catholic side, -hand-in-hand with the Spaniards; now on the Huguenot, according if -they 'happened' to be in good friendship with the Queen Mother or -with the King's favourite, or with the Protestant Henry of Navarre. - -On this occasion, and despite his broken wrist, Messire Gilles de -Crohin was the very last to lay down his sword before the victorious -Spaniard; nor is the expression 'lay down his sword' altogether the -right one to use, for the Sire de Froidmont never did lay down his -sword either to the Spaniards or to any other enemy, either then or -on any other occasion. But it seems that, in addition to that -half-severed wrist, he had several and sundry wounds about his body, -and all the while that the victorious Spanish army pursued the -Netherlanders even as far as the territory of the King of France, -Messire Gilles lay as one dead, bleeding, half-frozen, and only -sufficiently conscious to curse his own fate and the disappearance of -Maître Jehan le Bègue, the most faithful servant and most expert -henchman, man ever had. The trouble, indeed, was that Master Jehan -was nowhere within sight. - - -II - -Now it happened that that memorable night of February, 1578, which -followed the grim fight in the valley below Gembloux, was a very dark -one. Toward eight or nine o'clock of the evening, Messire Gilles -woke from his state of unconsciousness by feeling rough and -unfriendly hands wandering about his body. Had I not already told -you that his language was apt to be more forceful than reverent, I -would tell you now that he utilized his first return to actuality in -sitting up suddenly and pouring forth such a volley of expletives -against the miscreants who were even then trying to divest him of his -boots, that, seized with superstitious fear, these human vultures -fled, scattered and scared, to rally again at some distance from the -spot, in order to resume their nefarious trade with less forcible -interruption. - -Messire Gilles listened to their scurrying footsteps for awhile; then -with much difficulty, for he was sorely hurt and bruised, he -struggled to his feet. - -The darkness lay upon the plain and wrapped in its grim pall all the -suffering, all the horror which the fiends of hatred and of -fanaticism had brought in the wake of this bloody combat. Silence -absolute reigned in the valley, save for an occasional sigh, a moan, -a cry of pain or a curse, which rose from the sodden ground up to the -sombre firmament above, as if in protest to the God of battles -against so much misery and so much unnecessary pain. - -Gilles--accustomed as he was to all these sounds--shook himself like -a shaggy dog. Though he was comparatively a young man still, these -sounds had rung in his ears ever since, as a young lad, he had -learned how to fight beside his father's stirrup leathers, and seen -his father fall, wounded and bruised, in much the same plight as -he--Gilles himself--was at this hour. Nor had the night any terrors -for him. The groans of dying men no longer stirred his senses, and -only moved his heart to transient pity. What did worry Messire -Gilles de Crohin, however, was the disappearance of Maître Jehan. - -'So long as those hellish body-snatchers do not get hold of the poor -fool!' he sighed dolefully. - -Just then his ear, trained of old to catch the slightest sound which -might bring a ray of hope at moments such as this, perceived above -the groanings and the sighs the distant tinkle of a bell. - -'Now, Gilles, my friend,' he murmured vaguely to himself, 'collect -your scattered senses and find out exactly where you are.' - -Dizziness seized him again, and he came down on one knee. - -'Jehan, you dog!' he exclaimed instinctively, 'where the devil are -you?' - -To which summons Maître Jehan was evidently unable to give reply, and -Messire Gilles, very sore and very much out of humour, once more -contrived to struggle to his feet. The tinkling of that bell seemed -more insistent now; his re-awakened consciousness worked a little -more actively. - -'We fought just below Gembloux,' he reflected. 'The tinkling which I -hear is the monastery bell on the heights above. Now, if it will go -on tinkling till I have struck the right direction and see a light in -the monastery windows, I doubt not but that those worthy monks will -let me lie in the kennel of one of their dogs until I can find my way -to a more congenial spot.' - -From which cynical reflection it can be gathered that Messire Gilles -had not a vast amount of faith in the hospitality of those good -Benedictines of Gembloux; which doubt on his part is scarce to be -wondered at, seeing that he had been fighting on the side of the -heretics. - -'If only that ass Jehan were here!' he added, with a final despondent -sigh. - -It was no earthly use for a wounded, half-fainting man to go -searching for another in the darkness on this field littered with -dead and dying. Gilles, whom a vague instinct drove to the thought, -had soon to give up all idea of it as hopeless. The same acute sense -of hearing which had brought to his semi-consciousness the sound of -the tinkling bell, also caused him to perceive through the murky -blackness the presence of the human vultures taking their pickings -off the dead. - -Gilles shuddered with the horror of it. He felt somehow that poor -old Jehan must be dead. He had seen him fall by his side in the -thick of the fight. He himself was only half-alive now. The thought -that he might once more fall under the talons of the body-snatchers -filled him with unspeakable loathing. He gave himself a final shake -in order to combat the numbness which had crept into his limbs in the -wake of the cold, the faintness and the pain. Then, guided through -the darkness by the welcome tintinnabulation of the monastery bell, -he started to make his way across the valley. - - -III - -Why should I speak of that weary, wretched tramp of a sorely-wounded -man, in the dead of night, on sharply-rising ground, and along a -track strewn with dead and dying, with broken bits of steel and torn -accoutrements, on sodden ground rendered slippery with blood? -Messire Gilles himself never spoke of it to any one, so why should I -put it on record? It took him five hours to cover less than half a -league, and he, of a truth, could not have told you how he did it -even in that time. He was not really fully conscious, which was no -doubt one of God's many mercies, for he did not feel the pain and the -fatigue, and when he stumbled and fell, as he very often did, he -picked himself up again with just that blind, insentient action which -the instinct of self-preservation will at times give to man. - -Whenever he recalled this terrible episode in his chequered career, -it took the form in his brain of a whirl of confused memories. The -tinkling of the bell ceased after a while, and the moans which rose -from the field of battle were soon left behind. Anon only a group of -tiny lights guided him. They came from the windows of the monastery -on the heights above, still so far--so very far away. Beyond those -lights and the stillness--nothing; neither pain, nor cold, nor -fatigue, only a gradual sinking of sense, of physical and mental -entity into a dark unknown, bottomless abyss. Then a sudden, awful -stumble, more terrible than any that had gone before, a sharp -agonizing blow on the head--a fall--a fall into the yawning -abyss--then nothing more. - - -IV - -Everything that happened after this belongs to the world of dreams. -So, at any rate, did Messire Gilles aver. The sensation of waking -up, of opening his eyes, of feeling sweet-smelling straw beneath his -aching body, was, of course, a dream. The sense of well-being, of -warm yet deliciously cooling water, and of clean linen upon his -wounds was a dream; the murmur of voices around him was a dream. - -Perhaps Messire Gilles would have thought that they were realities, -because all these sensations, remember, were not altogether unknown -to him. How many times he had lain wounded and insensible during his -stormy life-career, he could not himself have told you. He had oft -been tended by kindly Samaritans--lay or clerical; he had oft lain on -fresh, clean straw and felt that sense of well-being which comes of -complete rest after dire fatigue. But what he had never experienced -in his life before, and what convinced him subsequently that the -whole episode had only been the creation of his fevered fancy, was -that wonderful vision of a white-robed saint or angel--good Messire -Gilles could not have told you which, for he was not versed in such -matters--which flitted ever and anon before his weary eyes. It was -the sound of a voice, whispering and gentle, which was like the -murmur of butterflies' wings among a wilderness of roses; it was the -perfume of spring flowers with the dew fresh upon them which came to -his nostrils; it was a touch like unto the velvety petals of a lily -which now and again rested upon his brow, and above all it was a pair -of deep blue eyes, which ever and anon met his aching ones with a -glance full of gentleness and of pity. - -Now, although Messire Gilles was quite willing to admit that some -angels might have blue eyes, yet he had never heard it said that they -had a tiny brown mole on the left cheek-bone--a mole which, small as -it was, appeared like a veritable trap for a kiss, and added a quaint -air of roguishness to the angelic blue eyes. - -But then Gilles de Crohin, being a heretic and something of a -vagabond, was not intimately acquainted with the outward appearance -of angels. Moreover, that wee, tantalizing mole was far removed from -the reach of his lips. - -'Think you he'll recover, Messire?' - -Just at that moment Gilles de Crohin could have sworn that he was -conscious and awake; but that whisper, which suddenly reached his -hazy perception, could not have been aught but a part of his dream. -He would have liked to pinch or kick himself to see if he were in -truth awake, but he was too weak and too helpless to do that; so he -lay quite still, fearful lest, if he moved, the vision of the -white-robed angel who had just made such tender inquiry after him, -would vanish again into the gloom. Thus he heard a reply, gruff and -not over tender, which, of a truth, had nothing dreamlike about it. - -'Oh, he'll recover soon enough, gracious lady. These rascals have -tough hides, like ploughing oxen.' - -Messire Gilles de Crohin, Sire de Froidmont, tried to move, for he -was impelled to get up forthwith in order to chastise the malapert -who had dared to call him a rascal; but it seemed as if his limbs -were weighted with lead--for which fact he promptly thanked his -stars, since if he had moved, those heavenly blue eyes would, mayhap, -not scan his face again so anxiously. - -'Think you he fought on the side of our enemies?' the dream-voice -queried again; and this time there was an awed, almost trembling tone -in its exquisite music. - -'Aye,' answered the graft one, 'of that I have no doubt. Neither -psalter nor Holy Bible have I found about his person, and the -gracious lady should not have wasted her pity upon a spawn of the -devil.' - -'He looked so forlorn and so helpless,' said the angel-voice with -gentle reproach. 'Could I let him lie there, untended in a ditch?' - -'How did he get there?' retorted the real--the human--voice. 'That -is what I would wish to know. The fighting took place over half a -league away, and if he got his wounds on the battlefield, I, for one, -do not see how he could have walked to the postern gate and deposited -himself there, just in time to be in your way when you deigned to -pass.' - -'God guided him, Messire,' said the angel softly, 'so that you might -do one of those acts of goodness and of charity for which He will -surely reward you.' - -Some one--a man, surely--seemed to mumble and to grumble a good deal -after that, until the human voice once more emerged clearly out of -the confused hubbub. - -'Anyhow, gracious lady,' it said, 'you had best let yourself be -escorted back to your apartment now. Messire is already fuming and -fretting after you; nor is it seemly that you should remain here any -longer. The fellow will do quite well, and I'll warrant be none the -worse for it. He's been through this sort of thing before, my word -on it. His wounds will heal...' - -'Even that horrid one across his wrist?' queried the white-robed -saint again. (Gilles by now was quite sure that it was a saint, for -the tender touch upon his burning hand acted like a charm which -soothed and healed.) - -'Even that one, gracious lady,' replied the swine who had dared to -speak of the Sire de Froidmont as a 'rascal' and a 'fellow.' 'Though -I own 'tis a sore cut. The rascal will be marked for life, I'll -warrant. I've never seen such a strange wound before. The exact -shape of a cross it is--like the mark on an ass's back.... But it'll -heal, gracious lady ... it'll heal ... I entreat you to leave him to -me.' - -Anger again rose hotly to Messire Gilles' fevered brow, whereupon -everything became more and more confused. The darkness closed in -around him; he could no longer see things or hear them; he was once -more sinking into the dark and bottomless abyss. He opened his eyes, -only to see a white-robed vision far, far above him, fading slowly -but certainly into nothingness. The last thing which he remembered -was just that pair of blue eyes--the most luminous eyes he had ever -gazed into; eyes which looked both demure and tantalizing--oh, so -maddeningly tantalizing with that adorable little mole, which was -just asking for a kiss! - -And the rest was silence. - - -V - -When Gilles de Crohin, Sire de Froidmont, once more recovered -consciousness, it was broad daylight. The slanting rays of a genial, -wintry sun had struck him full in the face, and incidentally had been -infusing some warmth into his numbed body. He opened his eyes and -tried to visualize his position. It took him some time. He still -felt very giddy and very sick, and when he tried to move he ached in -every limb. But he was not cold, and his temples did not throb with -fever. As he groped about with his right hand, he encountered -firstly the folds of a thick woollen cloak which had been carefully -wrapped around him, and then, at a foot or so away, a pitcher and a -hunk of something which to the touch appeared very like bread. - -Messire Gilles paused after these preliminary investigations, closed -his eyes and thought things out. He had been dreaming, of that there -was no doubt, but he would be hanged, drawn and quartered if he knew -whence had come the pleasing reality of a cloak, a pitcher and a hunk -of bread. - -It was some time after that, and when the sun was already high in the -heavens, that he managed to sit up, feeling the pangs of hunger and -of thirst intensified by the vicinity of that delectable bread. The -pitcher contained fresh, creamy milk, which Messire Gilles drank -eagerly. Somehow the coolness of it, its sweetness and its fragrance -made his dream appear more vivid to him. The bread was white and -tasted uncommonly good. After he had eaten and drunk he was able to -look about him. - -As far as he could recollect anything, he was lying very near the -spot where he had fallen the day before--or the day before that, or a -week, or a month ago--Messire Gilles was not at all clear on the -point. But here he was, at any rate, and there were all the -landmarks which he had noted at the time, when first his troop was -attacked by the Spaniards. There was the clump of leafless shrubs, -trampled now into the mud by thousands of scurrying feet; there was -the group of broken trees, stretching gaunt arms up to the skies, and -beyond them the little white house with the roof all broken in--a -miserable derelict in the midst of the desolation. - -He, Gilles, had been propped up against a broken tree-trunk which lay -prone upon the ground. Underneath him there was a thick -horse-blanket, and over him the aforementioned warm cloak. His cut -wrist had been skilfully bandaged, the wounds about his body had been -dressed and covered with soft linen, and, hidden away under the -trunk, behind where he was lying, there was another loaf of bread, -another pitcher containing water, the limbs of a roasted capon and a -pat of delicious-looking cream cheese. - -The Benedictine monastery which, from the distant heights had -dominated the field of battle, was on Gilles' right. All around him -the valley appeared silent and deserted save by the dead who still -lay forgotten and abandoned even by the human vultures who had picked -them clean. There were no more dying on the field of Gembloux now. -Here and there a clump of rough shrubs, a broken tree with skeleton -arms stretched out toward the distance, as if in mute reproach for so -much misery and such wanton devastation; here and there the crumbling -ruins of a wayside habitation, roofless and forlorn, from which there -still rose to the wintry firmament above, a thin column of smoke. -From somewhere far away came the rippling murmur of the stream and -through it the dismal sound of a dog howling in this wilderness, -whilst overhead a flight of rooks sent their weird croaking through -the humid air. - -All other sounds were stilled--the clash of arms, the call of despair -or of victory, the snorting of horses, the cries of rage and of -triumph had all been merged in the mist-laden horizon far away. Was -it indeed yesterday, or a cycle of years ago that Gilles de Crohin -had lain just here, not far from this same fallen tree-trunk, a prey -to the ghoulish body-snatchers who, by their very act of hideous -vandalism, had brought him back to his senses? - - -VI - -Later on in the forenoon when, having eaten some of the capon and the -cream cheese, he was able to struggle to his feet, Gilles started out -to look for his friend. - -Though his thoughts and impressions were still in a state of -confusion, the possible plight of Maître Jehan weighed heavily on -Messire's soul. - -He remembered where Jehan had fallen right down in the valley, not -far from the edge of the stream and close to the spot where he, -Gilles, had received that terrible blow upon his wrist, and had then -lashed out so furiously into the Spaniard in his wrath at seeing his -faithful henchman fall. - -And there indeed he found him--stark naked and half-frozen. The -human vultures had robbed him even of his shirt. The search had been -long and painful, for in addition to his own weary limbs, Messire -Gilles had dragged the horse-blanket and the warm cloak about with -him. He knew, alas! in what plight he would find Master Jehan--if -indeed he were fortunate enough to find him at all; and he had also -carried the pitcher half-filled with water and had thrust bread and -capon into his breeches' pocket. Now that he had succeeded in his -quest, he laid the blanket and the cloak over the inanimate body of -his friend, moistened poor Jehan's cracked lips with the water, then -he laid down beside him and fell into another swoon. - -Sometime during that long and bitter day he had the satisfaction of -hearing Master Jehan both groan and curse. He was able to feed him -with bread and to ply him with water; and when the night came the two -of them rolled themselves up in the one blanket and kept one another -warm and comforted as best they could. - -It is not my purpose to speak of the vicissitudes, of the ups and -downs which befell Messire Gilles de Crohin and his faithful Jehan -during the next few days and weeks, whilst they struggled from a -state of moribundity into one of life and vigour once again, tended -and aided now by one Samaritan, now by another; helped, too, by a -piece of gold which Messire Gilles most unaccountably found in the -inner pocket of his doublet. He swore that he had no idea he had -ever left one there. - -All that I desire to remind you of is that, as soon as he could again -struggle to his feet, he went on another quest--one that to him was -only second in importance to the search for his friend. It was a -quest connected with the Benedictine monastery up yonder on a spur of -the Ardennes. Messire Gilles now was quite conscious enough to -remember that the monastery had been his objective when, sorely -wounded and aching in every limb, he had started on a weary tramp -which had culminated in an exquisite dream. To the monastery, -therefore, he meant to go, for he wished to ascertain if somewhere -near by there was a postern gate, beside which angels with blue eyes -and perfumed hands were wont to pass, and to minister to the sick and -to the weary. Messire Gilles, you perceive, trusted a great deal to -intuition first and then to observation. He was quite certain in his -own mind that if there was a postern gate he would come across it; -and he was equally certain that in the rough grass or the scrub close -by he would recognize traces of a sorely-wounded man falling headlong -against a very hard wall, and the footsteps of the kindly Samaritan -who, at the aforesaid angel's bidding, had carried him to shelter. - -As for the angel, it was obvious of course, that such celestial -beings did not walk and would not therefore leave imprints upon the -sordid earth; still, even so, Messire Gilles clung to the vain hope -that he would see tiny footprints somewhere, such as fairies make -when they dance in a ring, and that from the very ground there would -arise the perfume of spring flowers when the dew is fresh upon them -in the morn. - - -VII - -I may as well put it on record here and now that Gilles de Crohin, -Sire de Froidmont, after having tramped along half a league or more, -came upon the purlieus of the Benedictine monastery of Gembloux, -which is famed far and wide, and that after much exploration he did -discover a postern gate which was let into a high stone wall. But -neither in front of that gate, nor anywhere near it, were there any -traces of Samaritans, of angels or of a wounded man. The ground -round about that gate had at some time or another been strewn with -sand and raked over very smoothly and evenly, after which the humid -air and the rain had had their way with it. - -Messire Gilles uttered a comprehensive oath. Then he turned on his -heel and went his way. - - - - -CHAPTER II - - HOW A NOBLE PRINCE PRACTISED THE GENTLE - ART OF PROCRASTINATION - - -I - -Now, all that which I have related occurred during the month of -February in the year 1578--three years and more ago. - -After which I come to my story. - -We will leave the subject of Messire Gilles' dream, an it please you; -we will even leave that gallant if somewhat out-at-elbows gentleman -in the tap-room of the only hostelry of which the little town of La -Fère could boast, where he must needs wait for the good pleasure of -no less a personage than François Hercule, Duke of Alençon and of -Anjou--usually styled '_Monsieur_'--who was own brother to His Very -Christian Majesty, King Henry III of France, and whom Gilles de -Crohin, Sire de Froidmont, was serving for the nonce. - -M. le Duc d'Alençon and d'Anjou was closeted upstairs with the Queen -of Navarre, that faithful and adoring sister who had already -committed many follies for his sake, and who was ready to commit as -many more. What she saw to adore and worship in this degenerate and -indolent scion of the princely house of Valois, in this foppish -profligate devoid alike of morals and of valour, no historian has -ever been able to fathom. That he had some hidden qualities that -were as noble as they have remained unknown to tradition, we must -assume from the very fact that Marguerite, Queen of Navarre, one of -the most brilliant women of that or any epoch and the wife of one of -the most dazzling and fascinating men of his day, lavished the -resources of her intellect and of her sisterly love upon that -graceless coxcomb. - -Picture her now--that beautiful, clever woman--full of energy, of -vitality and of burning ambition, pacing the narrow room in the -humble hostelry of a second-rate city, up and down like some caged -and exquisite wild animal, the while that same fondly-adored brother -sat there silent and surly, his long legs, encased in breeches of -delicate green satin, stretched out before him, his not unattractive -face, framed in by an over-elaborate ruffle, bent in moody -contemplation of his velvet shoes, the while his perfumed and slender -hands fidgeted uneasily with the folds of his mantle or with the -slashings of his doublet. - -On the table before him lay a letter, all crumpled and partly torn, -which Marguerite had just thrown down in an access of angry -impatience. - -'By all the saints, François,' she said tartly, 'you would provoke an -angel into exasperation. In Heaven's name, tell me what you mean to -do.' - -_Monsieur_ did not reply immediately. He stretched out his legs -still further before him; he shook his mantle into place; he smoothed -down the creases of his satin breeches; then he contemplated his -highly polished nails. Marguerite of Navarre, with flaming cheeks -and blazing eyes, stood by, looking down on him with ever-growing -irritability not unmixed with contempt. - -'François!' she exclaimed once more, evidently at the end of her -patience. - -'Gently, my dear Margot; gently!' said _Monsieur_, with the -peevishness of a spoilt child. 'Holy Virgin, how you do fume! -Believe me, choler is bad for the stomach and worse for the -complexion. And, after all, where is the hurry? One must have time -to think.' - -'Think! Think!' she retorted. ''Tis two days since M. d'Inchy's -letter came and he sends anon for his answer.' - -'Which means,' he argued complacently, 'that there is no cause to -come to a decision for at least half an hour.' - -An angry exclamation broke from Marguerite's full lips. - -'My dear Margot,' said the Duke fretfully, 'marriage is a very -serious thing, and----' - -He paused, frowning, for his sister had burst into ironical laughter. -'I am well aware,' he resumed dryly, 'that you, my dear, look upon it -as a cause for levity, and that poor Navarre, your husband----' - -'I pray you, dear brother,' she broke in coldly, 'do not let the pot -call the kettle black. 'Tis neither in good taste nor yet opportune. -M. d'Inchy will send for his answer anon. You must make up your mind -now, whether you mean to accept his proposal or not.' - -Again _Monsieur_ remained silent for awhile. Procrastination was as -the breath of his body to him. Even now he drew the letter--every -word of which he probably knew already by heart--towards him and fell -to re-reading it for the twentieth time. - - -II - -Marguerite of Navarre, biting her lips and almost crying with -vexation, went up to the deep window embrasure and, throwing open the -casement, she rested her elbow on the sill and leaned her cheek -against her hand. - -The open courtyard of the hostelry was at her feet, and beyond it the -market-place of the sleepy little town with its quaint, narrow houses -and tall crow's foot gables and curious signs, rudely painted, -swinging on iron brackets in the breeze. It was early afternoon of a -mild day in February, and in the courtyard of the hostelry there was -the usual bustle attendant upon the presence of a high and mighty -personage and of his numerous suite. - -Men-at-arms passed to and fro; burghers from the tiny city, in dark -cloth clothes and sombre caps, came to pay their respects; peasants -from the country-side brought produce for sale; serving-men in drab -linen and maids in gaily-coloured kerchiefs flitted in and out of the -hostelry and across the yard with trays of refreshments for the -retinue of M. le Duc d'Anjou and of Madame la Reynede Navarre, own -brother and sister of the King of France. Indeed, it was not often -that so great a prince and so exalted a lady had graced La Fère with -their presence, and the hostelry had been hard put to it to do honour -to two such noble guests. Mine host and his wife and buxom daughters -were already wellnigh sick with worry, for though Madame la Reyne de -Navarre and M. le Duc, her brother, were very exacting and their -gentlemen both hungry and thirsty, not one among these, from -_Monsieur_ downwards, cared to pay for what he had. And while the -little town seethed with soldiery and with loud-voiced gentlemen, the -unfortunate burghers who housed them and the poor merchants and -peasants who had to feed them, almost sighed for the Spanish -garrisons who, at any rate, were always well-paid and paying. - -Down below in the courtyard there was constant jingling of spurs and -rattle of sabres, loud language and ribald laughter; but when the -casement flew open and the Queen of Navarre's face appeared at the -window, the latter, at any rate, was at once suppressed. In the -shade and across a narrow wooden bench on which they sat astride, a -couple of gentlemen-at-arms were throwing dice, surrounded by a mixed -and gaping crowd--soldiers, servants, maids and peasants--who -exchanged pleasantries while watching the game. - -Marguerite looked down on them for a moment or two, and an impatient -frown appeared between her brows. She did not like the look of her -brother's 'gentlemen,' for they were of a truth very much -out-at-elbows, free of speech and curt of manner. The fact that they -were never paid and often left in the lurch, if not actually sold to -their enemies by _Monsieur_, accounted, no doubt, for all the laxity, -and Marguerite swore to herself even then, that if ever her favourite -brother reached the ambitious goal for which she was scheming on his -behalf, one of his first acts of sovereignty should be to dismiss -such down-at-heel, out-at-elbows swashbucklers as were, for instance, -Messire Gilles de Crohin and many others. After which vow Marguerite -de Navarre once more turned to her brother, trying to assume -self-control and calmness which she was far from feeling. He -appeared still absorbed in the contemplation of the letter, and as he -looked up lazily and encountered her blazing eyes, he yawned -ostentatiously. - -'François!' she burst out angrily. - -'Well, my dear?' he retorted. - -'M. le Baron d'Inchy,' she continued more quietly, 'hath taken -possession of Cambray and the Cambrésis and driven the pro-Spanish -Archbishop into exile. He offers to deliver up the Cambrésis and to -open the gates of Cambray to you immediately, whilst M. le Comte de -Lalain will hand you over, equally readily, the provinces of -Hainault, of Flanders and of Artois.' - -'I know all that,' he muttered. - -'You might be Duke of Hainault and Artois,' she went on with -passionate enthusiasm. 'You might found a new kingdom of the -Netherlands, with yourself as its first sovereign lord--and you -hesitate!!! Holy Joseph! Holy Legions of Angels!' she added, with a -bitter sigh of pent-up exasperation. 'What have I done that I should -be plagued with such a nincompoop for a brother?' - -François d'Alençon and d'Anjou laughed and shrugged his shoulders. - -'The provinces are worth considering,' he said coolly. 'Cambray is -attractive, and I would not object to the Duchies of Artois and -Hainault, or even to a Kingdom of the Netherlands. But...!' - -'Well?' she broke in testily. 'What is the "but"?' - -He sighed and made a sour grimace. 'There is a bitter pill to -swallow with all that sugar,' he replied. 'You appear to be -forgetting that, my very impetuous sister!' - -It was Marguerite's turn to shrug her pretty shoulders. - -'Bah!' she said contemptuously. 'A wife! You call that a bitter -pill! Jacqueline de----what is her name?' - -_Monsieur_ referred to the letter. - -'Jacqueline de Broyart,' he said dryly. - -'Well! Jacqueline de Broyart,' she continued, more composedly, 'is -said to be attractive. M. d'Inchy says so.' - -'A merchant must praise the goods which he offers for sale,' remarked -Monsieur. - -'And even if she be ill-favoured,' retorted Marguerite dryly, 'she -brings the richest duchies in the Netherlands and the influence of -her name and family as her marriage portion. Surely a kingdom is -worth a wife.' - -'Sometimes.' - -'In this case, François,' urged Marguerite impatiently. Then, with -one of those sudden changes of mood which were one of her main -charms, she added with a kind of gentle and solemn earnestness: 'You -in your turn appear to forget, my exasperating brother, that 'tis I -who have worked for you, just as I always have done heretofore, I who -made friends for you with these loutish, ill-mannered Flemings, and -who prepared the way which has led to such a brilliant goal. Whilst -you wasted your substance in riotous living in our beloved Paris, I -was half-killing myself with ennui in this abominable Flemish -climate, I was drinking the poisonous waters of Spa so as to remain -in touch with the governors of all these disaffected provinces and -insidiously turning their minds towards looking for a prince of the -house of France to be their deliverer and their ruler. Now my -labours are bearing fruit. Don John of Austria is more hated -throughout the Netherlands than he was before my coming hither, the -provinces are more wearied of the Spanish yoke--they are more ready -to accept a foreign ruler, even though he be a Catholic to boot. You -have now but to stretch a hand, and all the golden harvest prepared -by me will fall into it without another effort on your part save that -of a prompt decision. So let me tell you, once and for all, Monsieur -my brother, that if you refuse that golden harvest now, if you do not -accept the Baron d'Inchy's offer, never as long as I live will I -raise another finger to help you or to advance your welfare. And -this I hereby do swear most solemnly and pray to the Virgin to -register my vow!' - -The Duke, unaccustomed to his charming sister's earnestness, had -listened to her without departing from his sullen mood. When she had -finished her tirade he shrugged his shoulders and yawned. - -'How you do talk, my dear Margot!' he said coolly. 'To hear you one -would imagine that I was an incorrigible rogue, an immoral profligate -and a do-nothing.' - -'Well, what else are you?' she retorted. - -'A much maligned, overworked prince.' - -She laughed, and despite her choler a look of genuine affection crept -into her eyes as she met the reproachful glance of the brother whom -she loved so dearly, and whose faults she was always ready to condone. - -'By the Mass!' quoth he. 'You talk of having worked and slaved for -me--and so you have, I'll own--but, far from leading a dissipated -life in Paris the while, I toiled and slaved, intrigued and -conspired, too--aye, and risked my life a hundred times so that I -might fall in with your schemes.' - -'Oh!' she broke in with a good-natured laugh. 'Let us be just, -Monsieur my brother. You allowed others to toil and slave and -intrigue and conspire, and to risk their life in your cause----' - -''Tis you are unjust, Margot,' he retorted hotly. 'Why, think you -then, that I was arrested by order of my brother the King, and thrown -into the dungeon of Vincennes----?' - -'You would not have been arrested, my dear,' said Marguerite dryly, -'if you had not chosen to be arrested.' - -'The King, our brother, does not approve of your schemes, my Margot.' - -'He is the dog in the manger,' she replied. 'Though Flanders and -Hainault and the Netherlands are not for him, he does not wish to see -you a more powerful prince than he.' - -'So, you see----' - -'But you knew,' she broke in quickly, 'you knew four and twenty hours -before the order of your arrest was issued that the King had already -decided on signing it. You had ample time for leaving Paris and -joining me at Spa. Six precious months would not have been -wasted----' - -'Well! I escaped out of Vincennes as soon as I could.' - -'Yes!' she retorted, once more fuming and raging, and once more -pacing up and down the room like a fretful animal in a cage. -'Procrastination! Time wasted! Shelving of important decisions!...' - -He pointed leisurely to the letter. - -'There's no time lost,' he said. - -'Time wasted is always lost,' she argued. 'The tone of M. le Baron -d'Inchy is more peremptory this time than it was six months ago. -There is a "take it or leave it" air about this letter. The -provinces are waxing impatient. The Prince of Orange is rapidly -becoming the idol of the Netherlands. What you reject he will no -doubt accept. He is a man--a man of action, not a laggard----' - -'But I am not rejecting anything!' exclaimed _Monsieur_ irritably. - -'Then, for God's sake, François----!' - -Marguerite de Navarre paused, standing for a few seconds quite still, -her whole attitude one of rigid expectancy. The next moment she had -run back to the window. But now she leaned far out of the casement, -heedless if the men below saw the Queen of Navarre and smiled over -her eagerness. Her keen ears had caught the sound of an approaching -troop of men; the clatter of horses' hoofs upon the hard road was -already drawing perceptibly nearer. - -'Messire Gilles!' she called out impatiently to one of the -dice-throwers, who was continuing his game unperturbed. - -In a moment the man was on his feet. He looked up and saw the -Queen's pretty face framed in by the casement-window; and a pretty -woman was the only thing on God's earth which commanded Gilles de -Crohin's entire respect. Immediately he stood at attention, -silhouetted against the sunlit market-place beyond--a tall, martial -figure, with face weather-beaten and forehead scarred, the record of -a hundred fights depicted in every line of the sinewy limbs, the -powerful shoulders, the look of self-assurance in the deep-set eyes -and the strong, square jaw. - - -III - -There was nothing very handsome about Messire Gilles de Crohin. That -portrait of him by Rembrandt--a mere sketch--done some years later, -suggests a ruggedness of exterior which might have been even -repulsive at times, when passion or choler distorted the irregular -features. Only the eyes, grey and profound, and the full lips, ever -ready to smile, may have been attractive. In a vague way he -resembled the royal master whom he was serving now. The features -were not unlike those of François, Duc d'Alençon et d'Anjou, but cast -in a rougher, more powerful mould and fashioned of stouter clay. The -resemblance is perhaps more striking in the picture than it could -have been in the original, for the Duke's skin was almost as smooth -as a woman's, his hair and sparse, pointed beard were always -exquisitely brushed and oiled; whereas Gilles' skin was that of a man -who has spent more nights in the open than in a downy bed, and his -moustache--he did not wear the fashionable beard--was wont to -bristle, each hair standing aloof from its neighbour, whenever -Messire Gilles bridled with amusement or with rage. - -Then, again, Gilles looked older than the Duke, even though he was, I -think, the younger of the two by several years; but we may take it -that neither his cradle nor his youth had been watched over with such -tender care as those of the scion of the house of France, and though -dissipation and a surfeit of pleasure had drawn many lines on the -placid face of the one man, hard fighting and hard living had left -deeper imprints still on that of the other. Still, the resemblance -was there, and though Gilles' limbs indicated elasticity and power, -whereas those of the Prince of Valois were more slender and loosely -knit, the two men were much of a height and build, sufficiently so, -at any rate, to cause several chroniclers--notably the Queen of -Navarre herself--to aver that Gilles de Crohin's personality ofttimes -shielded that of _Monsieur_, Duke of Anjou and of Alençon, and that -Messire Gilles was ofttimes requisitioned to impersonate the master -whom he served and resembled, especially when any danger at the hand -of an outraged husband or father, or of a hired assassin lurked for -the profligate prince behind a hedge or in the angle of a dark -street. Nor was that resemblance to be altogether wondered at, -seeing that the de Froidmonts claimed direct descent from the house -of Valois and still quartered the Flower o' the Lily on ground azure -upon their escutcheon, with the proud device: 'Roy ne suys, ne Duc, -ne Prince, ne Comte; je suys Sire de Froide Monte.'[1] They had -indeed played at one time an important part in the destinies of the -princely house, until fickle Fortune took so resolutely to turning -her back upon the last descendants of the noble race. - - -[1] 'Am neither King, nor Duke, nor Prince, nor Count; am Sire de -Froide Monte.' - - -Marguerite of Navarre was too thoroughly a woman not to appreciate -the appearance of one who was so thoroughly a man. Gilles de Crohin -may have been out-at-elbows, but even the rough leather jerkin which -he wore and the faded kerseymere of his doublet could not altogether -mar a curious air of breeding and of power which was not in accord -with penury and a position of oft humiliating dependence. So, -despite her impatience, she gazed on Gilles for a moment or two with -quick satisfaction ere she said: - -''Tis Monseigneur d'Inchy's messenger we hear, is it not, Messire?' - -'I doubt not, your Majesty,' replied Gilles. - -'Then I pray you,' she added, 'conduct him to my brother's presence -directly he arrives.' - -And even whilst the sound of approaching horsemen drew nearer and -nearer still, and anon a great clatter upon the rough paving stones -of the courtyard announced their arrival, Marguerite turned back into -the room. She ran to her brother's chair and knelt down beside him. -She put fond arms round his shoulders and forced him to look into her -tear-filled eyes. - -'François,' she pleaded, with the tenderness of a doting mother. -'_Mon petit_ François! For my sake, if not for yours! You don't -know how I have toiled and worked so that this should come to pass. -I want you to be great and mighty and influential. I hate your being -in the humiliating position of a younger brother beside Henri, who is -so arrogant and dictatorial with us all. François, dear, I have -worked for you because I love you. Let me have my reward!' - -_Monsieur_ sighed like the spoilt child he really was, and made his -habitual sour grimace. - -'You are too good to me, Margot,' he said somewhat churlishly. 'I -would you had left the matter alone. Our brother Henri cannot live -for ever, and his good wife has apparently no intention of presenting -him with a son.' - -'Our brother Henri,' she insisted, 'can live on until you are too old -to enjoy the reversion of the throne of France, and Louise de -Lorraine is still young--who knows? The Duchies of Artois and -Hainault and the Sovereignty of the Netherlands to-day are worth more -than the vague perspective of the throne of France mayhap ten or a -dozen years hence----' - -'And my marriage with Elizabeth of England?' he protested. - -'Elizabeth of England will never marry you, François,' she replied -earnestly. 'She is too fanatical a Protestant ever to look with -favour on a Catholic prince. She will keep you dangling round her -skirts and fool you to the top of her bent, but Milor of Leycester -will see to it that you do not wed the Queen of England.' - -'If I marry this Flemish wench I shall be burning my boats----' - -'What matter?' she retorted hotly, 'if you enter so glorious a -harbour?' - -There was nothing in the world that suited _Monsieur's_ temperament -better than lengthy discussions over a decision, which could thereby -be conveniently put off. Even now he would have talked and argued -and worn his sister's patience down to breaking point if suddenly the -corridor outside had not resounded with martial footsteps and the -jingling of swords and spurs. - -'François!' pleaded Marguerite for the last time. - -And the Duke, still irresolute, still longing to procrastinate, gave -a final sigh of sullen resignation. - -'Very well!' he said. 'Since you wish it----' - -'I do,' she replied solemnly. 'I do wish it most earnestly, most -sincerely. You _will_ accept, François?' - -'Yes.' - -'You promise?' - -Again he hesitated. Then, as the footsteps halted outside the door -and Marguerite almost squeezed the breath out of his body with the -pressure of her young strong arms, he said reluctantly: 'I promise!' -Then, immediately--for fear he should be held strictly to his -word--he added quickly: 'On one condition.' - -'What is that?' she asked. - -'That I am not asked to plight my troth to the wench till after I -have seen her; for I herewith do swear most solemnly that I would -repudiate her at the eleventh hour--aye, at the very foot of the -altar steps, if any engagement is entered into in my name to which I -have not willingly subscribed.' - -This time he spoke so solemnly and with such unwonted decision that -Marguerite thought it best to give way. At the back of her -over-quick mind she knew that by hook or by crook she would presently -devise a plan which would reconcile his wishes to her own. - -'Very well,' she said after an almost imperceptible moment of -hesitation. 'It shall be as you say.' - -And despite the half-hearted promise given by the -arch-procrastinator, there was a look of triumph and of joy on Queen -Marguerite's piquant features now. She rose to her feet and hastily -dried her tears. - -There was a rap at the door. Marguerite seated herself on a -cushioned chair opposite her brother and called out serenely: 'Enter!' - - - - -CHAPTER III - -HOW A CLEVER WOMAN OUTWITTED AN OBSTINATE MAN - - -I - -The door was thrown open and Messire Gilles de Crohin, Sire de -Froidmont, stood at attention upon the threshold. - -'Monseigneur le Baron d'Inchy's messenger, is it not, Messire?' asked -Marguerite of Navarre quickly, even before Gilles had time to make -the formal announcement. - -'Messire de Montigny has arrived, your Majesty,' he replied. 'He -bears credentials from Monseigneur the governor of Cambray.' - -'Messire de Montigny?' she said, with a frown of puzzlement. 'In -person?' - -'Yes, your Majesty.' - -'Has he come with a retinue, then?' broke in _Monsieur_ with his -wonted peevishness. 'There is no room in the city. Already I have -scarce room for my men.' - -'Messire de Montigny is alone, Monseigneur,' replied Gilles de -Crohin, 'save for an equerry. He proposes to return to Cambray this -night.' - -_Monsieur_ uttered a fretful exclamation, but already Marguerite had -interposed. - -'We cannot,' she said curtly, 'keep Messire de Montigny on the -doorstep, my dear brother. And you must remember that I have your -promise.' - -'Holy Virgin!' was _Monsieur's_ only comment on this timeful -reminder. 'Was ever man so plagued before by a woman who was not -even his mistress, Gilles!' he added peremptorily. - -'François!' admonished his sister sternly. - -'_Mon Dieu_, my dear!' he retorted. 'May I not speak to Gilles now? -Gilles, who is my best friend----' - -'Messire de Montigny is in the corridor,' she broke in firmly. - -'I know! I know! Curse him! I only wished to order Gilles--my best -friend, Gilles--not to leave me in the lurch; not to abandon me all -alone between an impetuous sister and a mulish Fleming.' - -'François!' she exclaimed. 'What folly!' - -'Gilles must remain in the room,' he declared, 'during the interview.' - -'Impossible!' she affirmed hotly. 'Messire de Montigny might not -like it.' - -'Then I'll not see him----' - -Marguerite de Navarre was on the verge of tears. Vexation, -impatience, choler, were wellnigh choking her. - -'Very well!' she said at last, with a sigh of infinite weariness. 'I -pray you, Messire,' she added, turning to Gilles, 'introduce -Monseigneur le Baron d'Inchy's messenger and remain in the room, as -_Monsieur_ bids you, during the interview.' - - -II - -Messire de Montigny was a short, stout, determined-looking gentleman -who, very obviously, despite his outward show of deference to a scion -of the house of France, had received his instructions as to the -manner in which he was to deal with that procrastinating and indolent -prince. He had clearly come here resolved to be firm and not to -yield an inch in his demands, nor to allow any further delay in the -negotiations wherewith he had been entrusted. - -But with François, Duc d'Alençon et d'Anjou, a promise given was not -of necessity a promise kept. No one knew that better than the sister -who adored him, and whose quasi-maternal love for him was not wholly -free from contempt. Therefore, all the while that Messire de -Montigny was paying his devoirs to _Monsieur_ and to herself, all the -while that the preliminary flummery, the bowings and the scrapings, -the grandiloquent phrases and meaningless compliments went on between -the two men, Marguerite of Navarre was watching her brother, noting -with a sinking of the heart every sign of peevish fretfulness upon -that weak and good-looking face, and of that eternal desire to put -decisions off, which she knew in this case would mean the ruin of all -her ambitious plans for him. At times, her luminous dark eyes would -exchange a glance of understanding or of appeal with Gilles de Crohin -who, silent and apparently disinterested, stood in a corner of the -room quietly watching the comedy which was being enacted before him. -Marguerite de Navarre, whose sense of the ridiculous was one of her -keenest attributes, could well appreciate how a man of Gilles' -caustic humour would be amused at this double-edged duel of -temperaments. She could see how, at _Monsieur's_ perpetual -parryings, Gilles' moustache would bristle and his deep-set eyes -twinkle with merriment; and though she frowned on him for this -impertinence, she could not altogether blame him for it. There -certainly was an element of farce in the proceedings. - -'I have come for Monseigneur's answer,' Messire de Montigny had -declared with uncompromising energy. 'My brother de Lalain and M. -d'Inchy cannot, and will not, wait!' - -'You Flemings are always in such a devil of a hurry!' Monsieur had -said, with an attempt at jocularity. - -'We have endured tyranny for close upon a century, Monseigneur,' -retorted de Montigny curtly. 'We have been long-suffering; we can -endure no longer.' - -'But, Holy Virgin, Messire!' exclaimed the Duke fretfully, 'ye cannot -expect a man to risk his entire future in the turn of a hand.' - -'Monsieur le Baron d'Inchy had the honour to send a letter to -Monseigneur two months ago,' rejoined the other. 'The Provinces have -fought the whole might of Spain and of Don Juan of Austria on their -own initiative and on their own resources, for the recovery of their -ancient civil and religious liberties. But they have fought unaided -quite long enough. We must have help and we must have a leader. The -Prince of Orange has his following in Holland. We in the Cambrésis, -in Hainault and Artois and Flanders want a sovereign of our own--a -sovereign who has power and the might of a great kingdom and of -powerful alliances behind him. 'Our choice has fallen on _Monsieur_, -Duc d'Alençon and d'Anjou, own brother to the King of France. Will -he deign to accept the sovereignty of the United Provinces of the -Netherlands and give them the happiness and the freedom which they -seek?' - -With a certain rough dignity Messire de Montigny put one knee to the -ground and swept the floor with his plumed hat ere he pressed his -hand against his heart in token of loyalty and obeisance. Marguerite -de Navarre's beautiful face became irradiated with a great joy. Her -fine nostrils quivered with excitement and she threw a look of -triumph on Messire Gilles, who had, in his appearance just then, the -solemnity of a Puck--and one of encouragement on the beloved brother. -But _Monsieur_ looked as sullen and as gloomy as he had done before. -If there was a thing on this earth which he hated more than any -other, it was a plain question which required a plain answer. He was -furious with Messire de Montigny for having asked a plain question, -furious with his sister for looking triumphant, and furious with -Gilles for seeming so amused. - -So he took refuge in moody silence, and Messire de Montigny, with a -flush of anger on his round face, quickly rose to his feet. Even to -one less keenly observant than was the clever Queen of Navarre, it -would have been obvious that all these obsequious marks of deference, -these genuflexions and soft words were highly unpalatable to the -envoy of Monseigneur le Baron d'Inchy, governor of the Cambrésis. -They were proud folk, these Flemings--nobles, burgesses and workers -alike--and it had only been after very mature deliberation and driven -by stern necessity that they had decided to call in a stranger to aid -them in their distress. The tyranny of the Spaniards had weighed -heavily upon them. One by one they saw their ancient privileges -wrested from them, whilst their liberty to worship in accordance with -the dictates of their conscience was filched from them under -unspeakable horrors and tyrannies. They had fought on doggedly, -often hopelessly, loth to call in outside aid for fear of exchanging -one oppressor for another, and a while ago they had a goodly number -of victories to their credit. Orange had freed many provinces, and -several cities had driven the Spanish garrisons from out their gates. -M. le Baron d'Inchy had seized Cambray and the Cambrésis and driven -the Catholic Archbishop into exile. Flemish governors were -established in Hainault, Brabant, in Artois and in Flanders; the -Dutch were the masters in Holland, Zeeland and Frise--a splendid -achievement! For, remember that these burghers and their untrained -bands were pitted against the finest military organization of the -epoch. - -But lately, the Spaniards, alarmed at these reverses, had sent fresh -troops into the Netherlands, and Alexander Farnese, Duke of Parma, -their most distinguished soldier, had obtained signal victories over -the war-wearied Dutch and Flemish troops. Since Orange had suffered -a signal defeat at Gembloux three years ago several cities had fallen -back once more under the Spanish yoke. It was time to call in -foreign aid. On the one hand, Elizabeth of England had given -assurances of money and of troops; on the other, Marguerite of -Navarre had made vague promises in the name of the Duc d'Alençon. A -Catholic prince was a bitter pill to swallow for these staunch -Protestants, but when d'Inchy offered _Monsieur_ the sovereignty of -the Netherlands, with immediate possession of the Cambrésis, of -Hainault, Artois and Flanders, he had first of all -insisted--respectfully but firmly--on certain guarantees: the -guarantee which to _Monsieur's_ fastidious taste was like a bitter -pill in the sugary offer--a Flemish wife and a Protestant to -boot--one who would hold the new sovereign lord true to his promise -to uphold and protect the reformed faith. - - -III - -"I hate being forced into a marriage!" _Monsieur_ repeated for the -third time, as he cast lowering looks upon the bowed head of M. de -Montigny. - -'There is no question of force, Monseigneur,' rejoined the latter -firmly. 'M. d'Inchy, speaking in the name of our provinces, had the -honour to propose a bargain, which Monseigneur will accept or reject -as he thinks fit.' - -'But this Jacqueline--er--Jacqueline----?' queried Monsieur -disdainfully. - -'Jacqueline de Broyart, Dame de Morchipont, Duchesse et Princesse de -Ramose, d'Espienne et de Wargny,' broke in Messire de Montigny with -stern pride, "is as beautiful and pure as she is rich and noble. She -is worthy to be the consort of a King.' - -'But I have never seen the lady!' argued _Monsieur_ irritably. - -'Jacqueline de Broyart,' retorted de Montigny curtly, 'cannot be -trotted out for Monseigneur's inspection like a filly who is put up -for sale!' - -'Who talks of trotting her out?' said _Monsieur_. '_Mon Dieu_, man! -Can I not even see my future wife? In matters of beauty tastes -differ, and----' - -'You will admit, Messire,' here interposed Marguerite quickly, seeing -that at _Monsieur's_ tone of thinly-veiled contempt frowns of anger, -dark as thunder-clouds, were gathering on Messire de Montigny's brow. -'You will admit that it is only just that my brother should see the -lady ere he finally decides.' - -'Jacqueline, Madame la Reyne,' riposted de Montigny gruffly, 'is -wooed by every rich and puissant seigneur in four kingdoms. Princes -of the blood in Germany and Austria and Spain, noble lords of England -and of France are at her feet. She is a mere child--scarce nineteen -years of age--but she has a woman's heart and a woman's pride. She -is my cousin's child; d'Inchy and my brother are her guardians. They -would not allow an affront to be put upon her.' - -'An affront, Messire?' queried Marguerite coldly. 'Who spoke of an -affront to the Duc d'Alençon's future wife?' - -'If Monseigneur sees the child,' argued de Montigny stiffly, 'and -then turns against her, she is quite old enough to look upon that -fact as an affront.' - -'The devil take you for a stiff-necked Fleming, Messire!' quoth the -Duke angrily. - -'Then Monseigneur refuses?' was de Montigny's calm retort, even -though his rough voice was shaking with suppressed choler. - -'No, no, Messire!' once more broke in Marguerite hastily. 'Did -Monseigneur say that he refused?' - -'Monseigneur seems disinclined to accept,' rejoined de Montigny. -'And so much hesitation is a slur cast upon the honour of a noble -Flemish lady who is my kinswoman.' - -'Believe me, Messire,' said Marguerite gently and with unerring tact, -determined to conciliate at all costs, 'that we of the house of -Valois hold all honour in high esteem. Meseems that you and my -brother do but misunderstand one another. Will you allow a woman's -wit to bridge over the difficulty?' - -'If you please, Madame,' replied de Montigny stiffly. - - -IV - -Marguerite de Navarre gave a short sigh of satisfaction. One look of -warning only did she cast on her brother, and with an almost -imperceptible movement of finger to lip she enjoined him to remain -silent and to leave the matter in her hands. François d'Anjou -shrugged his shoulders and smothered a yawn. The whole matter was -eminently distasteful to him, and gladly would he have thrown up the -promised throne and be rid of all these serious questions which bored -him to tears. - -De Montigny stood erect and stern; his attitude remained deferential, -but also unyielding. He was deeply offended in the person of the -child who in his sight stood for all that was most noble and most -desirable in the Netherlands. The indifference with which the offer -of such a brilliant alliance had been received by this Prince of -France had angered the stiff-necked Fleming beyond measure. But -Marguerite, feeling the difficulties around her, was now on her -mettle. None knew better than she how to make a man unbend--even if -he be a bitter enemy, which de Montigny certainly was not. - -'Messire,' she said with that gentle dignity which became her so -well, 'I pray you be not angered with my brother. He has had much to -worry him of late. Indeed, indeed,' she continued earnestly, 'his -heart is entirely given over to your magnificent country and he is -proud and honoured to have been chosen by you as your future -Sovereign Lord.' - -But to this conciliating harangue de Montigny made no reply, and -Marguerite resumed, after a slight pause. - -'Perhaps you do not know, Messire, that the King of France, our -brother, hath not such goodwill towards his kindred as they would -wish, and that, fearing that _Monsieur_ would be overproud of your -offer and would nurture further ambitious plans, he did order -_Monsieur's_ arrest, thereby causing us much delay.' - -'Yes, your Majesty,' replied de Montigny curtly, 'I knew all that. -But the offer hath been made to Monseigneur now--and I still await -his answer.' - -'His answer is yes, Messire!' said Marguerite firmly. - -'A grudging "yes," forsooth,' quoth de Montigny with an impatient -shrug of the shoulders. - -'An eager "yes," an you'll believe me,' retorted Marguerite. 'All -that he asks is to see the noble Dame Jacqueline de Broyart and to -pay her his devoirs ere he is formally affianced to her.' - -'Hang it all!' quoth _Monsieur_ resolutely. 'You cannot expect a man -to wed a woman whom he has never seen!' - -'A man in Monseigneur's position,' retorted de Montigny gruffly, -'must do many things which humbler folk can afford to leave undone, -and I have explained my objections to that plan; so that if Madame la -Reyne hath none other to offer----' - -'Nay! but I entreat you to listen to me, Messire,' urged Marguerite -with exemplary patience. 'And you, François,' she added, turning to -her brother, who at de Montigny's last words had muttered an angry -oath under his breath, 'I beg that you will let me unfold my plan ere -you combat it. Messire,' she continued earnestly, once more -addressing the Flemish lord, 'let me assure you again that I both -understand and appreciate your objection and, on my soul I never -dreamed of suggesting that so noble and great a lady as Madame -Jacqueline de Broyart should, as you justly remark, be trotted out -for the inspection of Monseigneur, like a filly which is put up for -sale.' - -'Well, then----?' retorted de Montigny. - -'Tell me, Messire,' she interposed irrelevantly, 'how old exactly is -Madame Jacqueline?' - -'Not yet twenty,' he replied. 'But I do not see----' - -'You will in a moment,' quoth she with a smile. 'Twenty, you said?' - -'Not quite.' - -'And beautiful, of course?' - -'Ask the men of Hainault and of Flanders,' was his proud reply. -'They will tell you how beautiful she is.' - -'Twenty--not quite--and beautiful,' said Marguerite of Navarre -slowly. 'And of a romantic turn of mind, shall we say, as young -girls so often are?' - -'Oh, as to that,' replied de Montigny with a puzzled frown, 'I dare -swear that she hath a romantic turn of mind. She certainly would not -allow herself to be offered up for sale like a bundle of goods. -Therefore----' - -'Easy, easy, Messire!' urged the Queen gently. 'I entreat you to -reply to my questions without choler. Are we not both striving to -find a way out of an impasse which might wreck the very welfare of -your country and Monseigneur d'Inchy's most cherished scheme?' - -De Montigny sighed impatiently. 'You are right, Madame la Reyne,' he -said grudgingly. 'I pray you continue. I'll not lose my temper -again. My word on it.' - -'You were about to assure me, Messire,' resumed Marguerite gently, -'that Madame Jacqueline is as romantic as she is beautiful.' - -'Jacqueline has been spoilt and adulated,' replied de Montigny, -determined to speak calmly. 'Poets have dedicated their verses to -her. Musicians have sung her praises----' - -'And love-sick swains have died of love for her, or sighed -impassioned tirades beneath her casement-window,' concluded -Marguerite, with a smile which was so winning that, despite himself, -after a moment or two, it found a pale reflex in de Montigny's stern -face. - -'Who should know better than the Queen of Navarre,' he retorted, with -a crude effort at gallantry, 'the power which beauty wields over all -men?' - -'Very well, then, Messire,' quoth she gaily. 'Listen to my plan, for -I swear 'tis a good one, since it will marry your pride to my -brother's hesitation. I propose that _Monsieur_ le Duc d'Anjou shall -first approach Madame Jacqueline under an assumed name. She hath -never seen him--he is totally unknown in these parts; his incognito -could therefore be easily kept up.' - -'I don't quite understand,' muttered de Montigny with a frown. - -'You will in a moment,' she rejoined. 'I propose, then, that -_Monsieur_ shall enact a part--the part of an unknown and noble -prince who hath become secretly enamoured of Madame Jacqueline. I -would suggest that he should appear before her closely masked and -begin his part by sighing dolefully beneath her casement-window. -Thus, at the outset, Madame Jacqueline, being what she is--romantic -and not yet twenty--will feel an interest in this unknown swain. Her -curiosity will be aroused, and she will not be loth to grant him the -interview for which he will have sighed and begged in all humility.' - -'But that is sheer folly, Madame!' broke in de Montigny, who had been -at great pains to check his growing truculence. - -'Folly?' she queried blandly. 'Why?' - -'Because--because----' he argued gruffly. - -'You promised on your honour, Messire,' she admonished gaily, 'that -you would not again lose your temper.' - -'But the folly of it!' - -'Again I ask you--why folly?' - -'Jacqueline is not a foolish child. She is not like to be taken in -by so transparent a comedy.' - -'It will not be transparent, Messire. Under my guidance the comedy -will be exceedingly well acted. Madame Jacqueline will never know -that her love-sick swain is the Duke of Anjou.' - -'Then 'tis greater folly still!' - -'Ah, that I swear it is not!' retorted Marguerite de Navarre hotly. -'Your Jacqueline is not twenty--she is proud and beautiful and -romantic. Well! give her some romance and she'll thank you for it -presently on her knees.' - -'But----' protested de Montigny. - -'Is not the whole thing simplicity in itself?' she broke in eagerly. -'The fame of Madame Jacqueline's beauty hath spread far and wide; -what more rational than that a noble prince--too insignificant or too -poor to enter the lists for her hand--should choose a romantic method -to approach her? After all, what are we all striving for? That -_Monsieur_ shall see the lovely Jacqueline without her knowing that -he proposes to woo her. If, in addition to that, we cause the two -young people to fall in love with one another, we shall have done -well; whilst, on the other hand, if, after having seen her, -_Monsieur_ retires from the candidature, the susceptibilities of the -Flemish nation and of Madame Jacqueline will have been safeguarded.' - -'How?' - -'The unknown prince can vanish as mysteriously as he came. The story -can reach Madame Jacqueline's ear that he was found killed by some -other jealous swain outside her garden-gate.' - -'Folly, Madame! Folly, I say!' protested de Montigny, perhaps a -shade less forcibly than he had done before. - -'Nay, then, 'tis a blessed folly, Messire, which oft outweighs -counsels of wisdom.' - -'But----' - -'Ah! but me no more buts, Messire! Ye cannot bring forth one -objection which I cannot easily combat. Think on it! A romantic -girl, whose life will be brightened by this pretty adventure!' - -'Perchance----' - -'Perchance what?' - -'She fall in love with the unknown swain.' - -'So much the better, when she discovers he is her future lord.' - -Then, as de Montigny really appeared to be struggling between consent -and refusal, and doubt, anger, contempt, irresolution were -alternately depicted in his rugged face, she continued persuasively: - -'Think, Messire, how you safeguard your niece's feelings, her just -pride, her maidenly reserve. _Monsieur_ le Duc d'Anjou will either -himself fall madly in love with Madame Jacqueline--in which case you -will have added the leaven of passion to the stodgy dough of -matrimony--or else he'll withdraw from the candidature, unknown, -unsuspected; and the child will only have one pleasant dream the more -to add to her illusions.' - -Montigny was yielding. Who could, indeed, resist for long the -insinuating tongue of Marguerite of Navarre, the eager glitter of her -eyes, the strength of her will and of her personality. The -sober-minded, stiff-necked and somewhat slow-witted Fleming felt -himself literally swept off his feet in this whirlpool of adventure -and of intrigue, and his language was not sufficiently glib to meet -objection with objection, to parry or to thrust in this unequal duel -of wits. Perhaps--had he not desired so passionately the alliance -which he had been sent to conclude, had he been less firmly convinced -that a union with France would prove the salvation of his people and -of the country which he worshipped--he might have opposed an -obstinate and gruff refusal to Marguerite's subtle scheme. But as it -was, his resistance was soon disarmed; she even managed to conquer -the irritation which _Monsieur's_ very personality had aroused in his -mind. - -'We have not yet heard,' he said at last, 'what Monseigneur le duc -d'Anjou hath to say on the matter.' - -'Oh!' _Monsieur_ hastened to say with mock sincerity, 'all that I -have to say is that throughout my life I have from time to time and -on many a momentous occasion, registered on oath that I would never -be affianced to a woman whom I had not previously learned to love.' - -'You will own, Messire,' broke in Marguerite gently, 'that this is a -laudable sentiment.' - -Nor did she think it desirable to let Messire de Montigny know that -her unreliable brother had vowed but half an hour ago that if a wife -were thrust upon him now he would, an he did not like her, repudiate -her even at the foot of the altar. Shifty and irresponsible in most -things, she knew him well enough to understand that in matters which -affected himself and his desires, he would prove dangerous, obstinate -and cruel. - -'On my soul!' added _Monsieur_ with well-assumed earnestness, 'I do -assure you, Messire, that I knew nothing of my sister's project.' - -'There was no time to put it before you, François,' rejoined -Marguerite. 'It arose in my brain even while you parleyed together -with Messire de Montigny and seemed unable to come to an -understanding.' - -'Then what says Monseigneur now?' reiterated the Flemish lord curtly. - -'Well!' drawled _Monsieur_ in his usual indecisive way, 'I say--I say -that----' - -'François!' admonished Marguerite sharply. - -He felt himself driven into a corner, from which procrastination -would no longer free him. In a manner the proposed adventure suited -his temperament, and in any case it would help to put off the final -and irrevocable decision. Therefore he was willing to fall in with -it. Sentimental dalliance was an art which he knew to his -finger-tips, and there was much in his sister's project which pleased -his lazy, pulpy nature. To sigh beneath a woman's window, to woo a -woman's love with honeyed words beneath a silken mask, to plan secret -meetings and steal to lovers' trysts at dead of night, had always -been an absorbing occupation for this degenerate prince. Now he felt -de Montigny's stern gaze fixed upon him and his sister's admonitions -rang in his ears. He knew that he had worn her love and patience -almost to a breaking thread. He threw a final appealing look on -Gilles de Crohin, but the latter's glance of amusement appeared as an -encouragement. Well, Gilles would know! Gilles would appreciate! -He, too, loved masks and casement-windows and fair women, tearful -with love. Gilles also loved fighting, so he could do that, if any -of it barred the way to _Monsieur's_ comfort and peace. - -'François!' came once more, appealing yet severe, from Marguerite of -Navarre. - -'What says Monseigneur?' reiterated de Montigny for the third time. - -'I say that you have left me no choice, Messire,' quoth François due -d'Anjou at last. 'It shall be as my sister desires.' - - -V - -What was said after this is not much to the point. Enough that de -Montigny yielded--very reluctantly, very slowly, be it admitted--but -still, he did yield, and Marguerite, Queen of Navarre, was triumphant -because she had got her way and because she would be allowed now to -weave one of those subtle and sentimental plots which was as the -breath of life to her inventive brain. She was also triumphant -because she felt that nothing now stood in the way of the ambitious -plans which she had framed for her favourite brother. She was -triumphant because she felt the romance which she had concocted for -his benefit would end in substantial gain for him--a richly-dowered -wife and a sovereignty as rich as a crown. Then, at last, when she -had won Messire de Montigny over absolutely and completely with her -ready wit and her glib tongue, she extended a gracious hand to the -somewhat shamefaced Fleming. 'Ah, Messire!' she said. 'You little -realize how much you have done for your country this day!' - -'I certainly have sacrificed my sanity and my better judgment,' he -said gruffly. But he did bend the knee, and kissed the -delicately-perfumed hand. - -'And Madame Jacqueline will be at Cambray?' she asked. - -'She is at Cambray now,' he replied. - -'Then _Monsieur_ had best repair thither right away. You yourself -will be there, Messire?' - -'Not I, alas, Madame!' he replied. 'After I have seen my brother and -d'Inchy and obtained their consent to this wild-cat scheme, I join -the army of the Prince of Orange at Utrecht.' - -'But you'll see that my brother has a safe conduct and is sure of a -welcome from Monseigneur d'Inchy?' - -'Oh! d'Inchy will consent and so will my brother. They will make -Monseigneur quite welcome,' rejoined de Montigny with a sigh. 'All -of us would do much, Madame, in order to bring about this alliance, -on which we have set our hearts.' - -He was as wax now in the hands of this fascinating intriguer. In his -heart of hearts he knew that sober reflection would come anon; he -knew that it would take much persuasion ere his brother, and the -other sober-minded Flemings who ruled the destinies of a great nation -and of a rich heiress, would finally consent to these wild and -romantic plans which had found their origin in an imaginative woman's -brain; he knew that, mayhap, when he returned to Cambray, he would -have to argue in his turn as the Queen of Navarre had argued with -him. But in the meanwhile, now that he had given in, he was man -enough and gentleman enough to fulfil his share of the bargain -loyally and completely. - -'That's brave!' exclaimed Marguerite. 'And I entreat you, lose no -time. _Monsieur_ could start for Cambray this night.' - -'Would Monseigneur go alone?' queried de Montigny. - -'No, no,' broke in the Duke fretfully. 'I could not go unattended. -Think on it, Messire! A prince of the house of France!' - -'Monseigneur would not, I presume, enter Cambray incognito with a -retinue of men-at-arms,' retorted the other with a grim smile. - -'No! not a retinue,' he rejoined unperturbed. 'I'll have Gilles with -me and a serving-man; that is all.' - -'Gilles?' - -'Gilles de Crohin, Sire de Froidmont,' interposed Marguerite, as with -a graceful gesture of the hand she indicated Gilles, who still stood -silent and impassive in the corner of the room. 'This gallant -gentleman is devoted to Monsieur's service and accompanies him -wherever he goes.' - -De Montigny's sharp, scrutinizing glance swept approvingly over -Gilles de Crohin's martial figure. - -'Very well then, so be it,' he said. 'I will give a safe conduct to -Monseigneur under any name he will choose to assume, and one to -Messire Gilles de Crohin, Sire de Froidmont, who will travel as his -equerry. Is that what Madame la Reyne desires?' - -'It is! It is!' cried Marguerite joyfully. 'Ah!' she added as she -directed a reproachful glance on her brother, 'dilatoriness is not a -part of your method, Messire de Montigny!' - -'_Mon Dieu_, my good Margot!' quoth _Monsieur_ tartly. 'You do not -give Messire sufficient time to breathe.' - -'Who wants to breathe,' she retorted gaily, 'when the destinies of -kingdoms are at stake? The safe conducts, Messire! The safe -conducts, I entreat! Why not sign them here and now?' - -She jumped up from her chair, eager, young, full of vitality. In a -moment, with her own dainty hands, she had placed ink-horn, sand, a -quill, a sheet of paper upon the table. - -'The safe conduct, Messire!' she reiterated excitedly. 'I vow that -I'll don male attire and start for Cambray with my brother this -night!' - -And she would have done it, too, had not prudence dictated otherwise. -Her fine, clever face, however, was well known in this part of -Belgium. She had been at Cambray but a few weeks ago, moving heaven -and earth and stirring up those heavy Flemings to activity on behalf -of her brother. But she would have loved to be of that adventurous -party. The conception of it had been born in her brain; it was her -thing, her creation, her child, and she fretted at the thought that -her brother's indolence, his shiftlessness and indecision might even -yet jeopardize these glorious projects which she had formed. - -'Sainte Vierge and chorus of angels, grant me patience!' she murmured -as she watched, frowning and fretful, the deliberate movements of M. -de Montigny. The Duc d'Anjou chortled quietly to himself. He loved -to see his impetuous sister fuming over the dilatoriness of another, -and now he gave a low cackle of delight when the Fleming first drew a -chair slowly to the table, then sat down and settled himself to -write. He next took up the quill pen, examined it, tested it on his -thumb-nail, turned the sheet of paper over and over. Obviously he -was not very much used to rapid caligraphy, and Marguerite's temper -was oozing out of her very finger-tips as she watched that quill pen -travelling with ponderous slowness along the paper. - -'In what name shall I make out the safe-conduct?' he asked presently. - -'Oh, ye gods!' exclaimed Marguerite impatiently. 'Any name, -Messire--or leave the name in blank----' - -'I cannot do that,' rejoined de Montigny deliberately. 'M. d'Inchy, -who is governor of the city and of the province, would not wish it. -And since Monseigneur desires to enter Cambray incognito----' - -'Any name will do,' she retorted. - -'Still, I must have one----' - -'Then, in God's name, make out the safe-conduct in the name of -Monseigneur le Prince de Froidmont, travelling with his equerry -Messire Gilles de Crohin and with his serving-man. Will that satisfy -Monseigneur le Baron d'Inchy?' - -De Montigny thought the matter over for a moment or two ere he -replied, wholly unperturbed, 'I think so.' - -And thus did the document stand. A permit to enter the City of -Cambray was granted to Monseigneur le Prince de Froidmont, to his -equerry Messire Gilles de Crohin and to his serving-man, by Edmond, -Sire de Montigny, acting on behalf of Roger, Baron d'Inchy, governor -of the province of Cambrésis, and safe conduct was assured them on -their way thither.[1] - - -[1] This document which Messire de Montigny made out and signed on -that memorable occasion is still preserved among the archives of the -City of Cambray. At any rate, it was still extant in the spring of -1914, when the writer of this veracious chronicle was granted a sight -of it. Since then the hordes of the modern Huns have swept over the -fair lands of Belgium and France. They may have destroyed these -archives as they did so much of what had historical and romantic -interest. - - -'Well! you have your wish, my dear sister,' was the Duc d'Anjou's -sole comment as he saw the look of impatience on Marguerite's fair -face give place to one of triumph and of joy. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -HOW _MONSIEUR_ KEPT HIS WORD - - -I - -When M. de Montigny--after much ponderous leavetaking--finally took -his departure, accompanied by Messire Gilles de Crohin, it is -positively averred that Marguerite, Queen of Navarre, forgot for a -moment her position and her dignity and danced around the narrow room -like a child who has had its way after much fighting and arguing. It -is even said that she dragged her dearly-loved François up from his -chair and that, seizing both his hands, she forced him to join her in -a whirl which literally swept him off his feet, raised a cloud of -dust from the old wooden floor, and finally sent him sprawling and -dizzy, and thoroughly out of temper, up against the table, from -whence he poured a volley of abuse upon his devoted sister. - -But I have oft marvelled if this story be true, for, of a truth, -there was no one there to witness these events, and Queen Margot -herself never put them on record. But there was Messire Gilles, and -where he was at the moment I, for one, cannot say. He did accompany -Messire de Montigny as far as the courtyard, and saw that noble -Fleming ride off with an obviously heavy heart, after what had only -been a partially successful errand. We are not going to suppose that -Messire Gilles paused on his way back to the apartments of his -princely master in order to listen at the keyhole. He was more like -to have kicked open the door with scant ceremony and seen the young -Queen of Navarre dancing a rigadoon in the middle of the floor with -her reluctant brother. Certain it is, that anon he did stand there -under the lintel, coughing and spluttering as the dust caught in his -throat, and coughing so loudly, be it said, that the noise which he -made drowned some of _Monsieur's_ most sanguinary expletives. The -next moment he had once more entered the room and closed the door -behind him; and Marguerite paused in her mad dance in order to clap -her hands gleefully together. - -'Ah, Messire Gilles!' she exclaimed excitedly. 'Is it not wonderful? -Is it not great? All arranged, and both Monsieur and that tiresome -Fleming satisfied! Is it not a triumph, I say?' - -'A triumph, indeed, your Majesty!' replied Gilles with a grim smile. -''Tis only our chief actor, methinks, who doth not look overjoyed.' - -'I know,' rejoined Marguerite, with a sigh. 'But, then, Monsieur -never really looks pleased. So I entreat you, Messire, remain with -him now and make all arrangements for the journey to-morrow. Nay! -'twere far better you started this very night, slept and rested at -St. Quentin and arrived at Cambray the day after to-morrow. I leave -you with Messire Gilles, François,' she added, turning to Monsieur -who, ill-humoured and still growling like a frowsy dog, was putting -his rumpled toilet in order. 'Let him make all arrangements for your -journey. He is always of good counsel.' - -'Good counsel!' muttered _Monsieur_. 'Good counsel! I am sick to -death of good counsels. Had I been left to myself----' - -'Nothing would have happened, _c'est entendu_,' she riposted gaily. -'Nay! you'll not damp my ardour again, François; and you cannot deny -that I have satisfied M. de Montigny whilst keeping my solemn promise -to you. So I leave you now with Messire Gilles. The way is -prepared. And, remember,' she added earnestly, 'that you are pledged -to me as I was to you. I have fulfilled my share of the bargain. If -you fail me now, I will never look upon your face again!' - - -II - -As soon as Marguerite de Navarre had gone from the room, Gilles de -Crohin drew a folded missive from inside his doublet and handed it to -Monsieur. - -'Just came by messenger from Paris,' he said curtly. - -_Monsieur_ snatched eagerly at the missive. It had been carefully -folded into a tiny compass, tied with a shell-pink ribbon and sealed -with mauve-coloured wax. _Monsieur_ broke the seal and read the -letter. A flush--which might have been one of pleasure, of -excitement or of anger, or of all three combined--spread over his -face. He read the letter again, and a dark frown appeared between -his brows. Then he looked up into the face of the one faithful -friend whom his many treacheries had not driven from his side. - -'Gilles,' he said dolefully, 'I cannot go to Cambray.' - -'I thought as much, Monseigneur,' replied Gilles dryly. 'That letter -is from Madame de Marquette.' - -'It is, my good Gilles,' sighed _Monsieur_. 'It is!' Then as Gilles -said nothing, he added fretfully: 'She had promised to let me know as -soon as Monsieur le Comte, her husband, would be absent from Paris.' - -'Ah!' was Gilles' simple comment. 'And is M. le Comte de Marquette -absent from Paris at this moment?' - -'Cooling his heels in the dungeons of Vincennes, my good Gilles,' -replied _Monsieur_ lightly. - -'Ah!' uttered Gilles once more; this time without any comment. - -'Yes. I let His Majesty, my brother, know indirectly of certain -doings of Monsieur de Marquette. I have no doubt, therefore, that -that estimable worthy is incarcerated at Vincennes by now.' - -'Under a false charge of conspiracy?' - -'False? No!' retorted _Monsieur_. 'Doth he not conspire to keep his -charming wife a virtual prisoner in his own palace?' - -'Therefore he is to be kept a real prisoner under a denunciation from -_Monsieur_ le Duc d'Alençon and d'Anjou,' riposted Gilles dryly. - -'Oh! not a denunciation, my good Gilles!' said _Monsieur_, wholly -unperturbed. 'I only gave His Majesty a hint that M. de Marquette -was not quite so faithful a subject as one would desire.' - -'And the hint has landed M. de Marquette in Vincennes rightly enough.' - -'Apparently,' concluded _Monsieur_ placidly, as he held the -delicately-scented missive of Madame de Marquette to his nose. 'So -you see, my good Gilles,' he continued after a slight pause, 'how -inconvenient it will be for me to go a-wooing a ponderous Flemish -wench just now. Madame de Marquette is so dainty, so exquisite, -so--so--what shall I say? ... What would you do, now, Gilles?' he -added, with a sudden change of tone, 'if you were in my shoes?' - -'Oh, I, Monseigneur,' quoth Gilles, with a careless shrug of the -shoulders. 'Not being a prince of the blood I would probably stick -to my promise and go and woo the Flemish wench at Cambray.' - -'I believe you would, you dog!' retorted _Monsieur_ with a yawn. -'And then hurry back to Paris, eh, in order to console Madame de -Marquette?' - -'Possibly, Monseigneur,' concluded Gilles simply. - -'Well, then, the only difference 'twixt you and me, my dear -Gilles--that is, 'twixt your moral sentiments and mine--is that I'll -hie me first to console Madame de Marquette, and having done that, -I'll--I'll----' - -'Gravely offend the most devoted of sisters, Queen Marguerite of -Navarre,' broke in Gilles quickly. - -'Yes,' admitted _Monsieur_. 'I imagine that dear Margot will be in -one of her most fretting humours when she finds that I am half-way to -Paris instead of to Cambray. She hath vowed that if I fail her now -in her schemes she'll never look on my face again. And she -won't--for at least six months,' he added peevishly. 'Trust her for -that! Margot is nothing if not obstinate! And my chance of getting -a rich wife and some rich provinces of these accursed Netherlands -will have vanished for ever. Ah, Gilles! my good Gilles!' he -concluded, with naïve induction. 'You see what comes of it, if a man -allows himself to be overruled by women!' - -'Well!' retorted the other with a careless laugh. 'Meseems that -Monseigneur hath not much cause to quarrel with his fate this time. -King of the Netherlands!' he exclaimed, and gave a long, low whistle -of appreciation. ''Tis no small matter----' - -'Bah!' rejoined _Monsieur_ with a shrug of the shoulders. 'To be a -king among these dull-witted, slow-going Flemings is not altogether -an enviable existence. Would you care for it, Gilles?' - -'Oh, I, Monseigneur?' riposted Gilles gaily. 'I have so few kingly -attributes.' - -'Better to be Duc d'Alençon in Paris, eh, than King in Antwerp or in -Ghent? Brrr!' added _Monsieur_, with a mock shudder. 'Think of the -Flemish women, my good man!' - -'I have thought of them, Monseigneur,' replied Gilles dryly, 'once or -twice since we came into Flanders.' - -'Well! and what did you think of them?' - -'That God has fashioned uglier ones.' - -'Where?' - -'In many places--even in Paris.' - -'Not often, Gilles.' - -'I'll grant that, Monseigneur, an you command.' - -'Now this Jacqueline, for instance----' - -'Madame Jacqueline, Monseigneur?' - -'Yes!' And Monseigneur sighed. 'I have got to marry her, Gilles, if -I wish for the sovereignty of the Netherlands.' - -'Messire de Montigny hath been at pains to tell us, Monseigneur, that -Madame Jacqueline is very beautiful--very beautiful, an it please -you.' - -'It would please me if she were beautiful. But have you ever seen a -beautiful Fleming, Gilles?' - -Gilles de Crohin was silent. - -'Have you, Gilles?' insisted the Duke. - -'Yes, Monseigneur,' replied Gilles curtly. 'Once.' - -'The devil you did! Where?' - -'In the land of dreams, Monseigneur.' - -'Then it could not have been Madame Jacqueline. She is reality, -alas! Ponderous reality, I fear! I have got to woo her, Gilles.' - -'Yes, Monseigneur.' - -'Under a mask and an assumed name.' - -'No better way hath yet been found for wooing a wench.' - -'I shall have to sing and sigh beneath a casement, and by the light -of the moon risk breaking my neck in trying to climb up to a window.' - -''Twill not be the first time Monseigneur hath done any of these -things, and with a less worthy object to boot.' - -'But this time, Gilles, I might be so much better employed in -consoling Madame de Marquette for the absence of her lord.' - -'Whereas, now, Monseigneur will have to send word back by the -messenger--who, by the way, still waits below--that the denunciation -against M. de Marquette was an error, and that you desire his -immediate release.' - -'Gilles!' retorted _Monsieur_ coolly, 'have you become an idiot?' - -'I didn't think so, Monseigneur.' - -'Very well, then, do not talk as one. M. de Marquette cannot be -better occupied than in cooling his heels at Vincennes. I am going -to Paris, Gilles, in order to explain this to a charming grass-widow.' - -'Yes, Monseigneur. When?' - -'To-night.' - -'Monseigneur goes to Paris to-night?' - -'Yes. I have said so.' - -'And Monseigneur means it?' - -'_Mon Dieu_! Of course I mean it! You don't suppose that I am going -to allow that exquisite Madame de Marquette to pine away in solitude, -do you?' - -'But Madame Jacqueline, Monseigneur?' protested Gilles de Crohin. -'The crown of the Netherlands----' - -'Madame Jacqueline may go to the devil, Gilles, and the crown of the -Netherlands after her----' - -'But, Madame la Reyne----!' - -'Ah! that is another matter. My dear sister can go to the devil if -she likes, but I cannot send her thither. You must remain here and -explain matters to her, Gilles.' - -'I, Monseigneur?' exclaimed Gilles, very much crestfallen at this -prospect. - -'Yes. Not to-night, of course. To-morrow morning. I shall be a -long way off by then--too far for her to run after me and bring me -back like a whipped schoolboy; which, I doubt not, she were quite -capable of doing! Once I get to Paris, I'll take care that she does -not find me, and she'll have to pacify these tiresome Flemings as -best she can.' - -Gilles de Crohin looked down for a moment or two on the sprawling -figure of the master whom he served--the long, loose limbs stretched -out lazily, the narrow shoulders decked in exquisite satin, the -perfumed beard, the delicate hands, the full, sensual lips and weak -chin and jaw which characterized this last descendant of the Valois. -But not a line of his own strong, rugged face betrayed just what he -thought, and after a while he resumed in his dry, quiet way: - -'I doubt, Monseigneur, that the tiresome Flemings will allow -themselves to be pacified--nor will Madame la Reyne de Navarre, I'm -thinking,' he muttered under his bristling moustache. - -'She must, and they must, my good Gilles,' riposted _Monsieur_ -airily; and, with a wide gesture of his beringed hand, he appeared to -wave aside all the obstacles which threatened the even course of his -path of pleasure. '_Mordieu_, man! If you are going to raise -difficulties----' he said. - -'The difficulties are there, Monseigneur. I am not raising them.' - -'Well, then, you will have to smoothe them down for me, that's all! -What do I pay you for?' he added roughly. - -'I was not aware that Monseigneur was paying me for anything,' -replied Gilles good-humouredly; 'or had paid me anything these three -years past.' - -'Then why do you serve me, I wonder?' - -'I have oft wondered, too!' rejoined Gilles calmly. - -'My brother Henri would pay you better; so would my brother-in-law of -Navarre.' - -'That's just it, Monseigneur. Since there is not much fighting to do -just now, other princes would pay me for doing dirty work for them, -no doubt. But, being constituted as I am, if I have to do dirty work -for any one I would sooner not be paid for doing it. This may sound -curious morality, but so it is.' - -The Duke laughed. - -'Morality? From you, my good Gilles?' - -'It does sound incongruous, does it not, Monseigneur?' said Gilles -placidly. 'A soldier of fortune, like myself, cannot of a truth -afford to have any morality. Mine consists in forgetting the many -sins which I have committed and leaving others to commit theirs in -peace.' - -'Admirable in sentiment, my friend,' concluded _Monsieur_, with a -cynical laugh. 'You will, therefore, leave me in peace to join -Madame de Marquette, if I wish?' - -'How can I prevent it, Monseigneur?' - -'You cannot. But you can serve me by conciliating my sister during -my absence.' - -'I will serve Monseigneur to the best of my ability.' - -'Very well, then. I start for Paris this night.' - -'So Monseigneur hath already deigned to say.' - -'I will let my sister understand that you and I are starting for -Cambray. She will be overjoyed. You will ride with me as far as -Noyon, and then under cover of the darkness you will return hither.' - -'Yes, Monseigneur?' - -'To-morrow, during the forenoon--not too early, remember--you will -seek audience of Her Majesty and explain to her that unavoidable -business caused me to change my mind at the eleventh hour; that I -have gone--whither you know not--but that I shall return within a few -weeks, or a few months, as soon as I have tired of my present -business, and that in the meanwhile I adjure her, as she loves me, to -keep those stodgy Flemings in a good humour. You understand?' - -'I understand, Monseigneur.' - -'Of course, Madame Marguerite will fume and fret----' - -'Of course.' - -'She will also probably throw books, or a slipper, or a cushion at -your head----' - -'Or the fire-irons, Monseigneur' - -'But you won't mind that----' - -'On the contrary, I shall enjoy it.' - -'The more my sister frets the quicker will her choler be over.' - -'The quicker, too, will the furniture of the hostel be smashed to -pieces.' - -'And when she hath calmed down, you and she can sit together quietly -and make plans for the conciliation of my future loyal Flemish -subjects.' - -'I shall greatly look forward to so peaceful a _tête-à-tête_.' - -'Then, that's settled!' concluded _Monsieur_ airily, as he finally -rose from his chair, yawned and stretched. '_Palsambleu!_ what a day -of it I have had! Own to it, my good Gilles, I have well deserved a -holiday and the company of Madame de Marquette after all this -business and the scoldings and objurgations of my impetuous sister!' - -'I doubt not, Monseigneur,' responded Gilles dryly, 'that Fate will, -as usual, be kind and give you the full measure of your deserts.' - -'Amen to that, my friend. Now, see to it that we get to horse within -the hour. I'll to my dear Margot and receive her embraces and her -praises for my readiness. And, remember,' he added warningly, just -as Gilles, turning on his heel, was striding towards the door, 'that -you will have to impress it upon Her Majesty most emphatically in -your interview to-morrow that it will be no use her trying to find -out where I am. Madame de Marquette and I will be beyond her reach. -Between you and me, my good Gilles, I know of a cosy nest where----' - -But Gilles de Crohin was apparently no longer in a mood to listen -patiently to his Royal master's rigmarole. - -'What about the safe conduct?' he broke in curtly. And he pointed to -the papers which Messire de Montigny had been at such pains to -complete. - -'Oh! put it away, my good Gilles,' replied _Monsieur_ carelessly. -'Put it away! It will be very handy a month hence, or two months, or -three, when I am ready to go and woo that very solid Flemish maid.' - -Without another word, Gilles de Crohin picked up the safe-conduct, -folded it carefully and slipped it into the inner pocket of his -doublet. Then, after a somewhat perfunctory obeisance, he strode out -of the room. - -_Monsieur_ listened in complacent silence to the firm footsteps as -they gradually died away down the corridor. Then he shrugged his -shoulders and whistled softly to himself. - -'A good fellow, that Gilles,' he murmured. 'I wonder what my dear -sister will do to him to-morrow when she hears----?' - - - - -CHAPTER V - - WHAT MARGUERITE OF NAVARRE DID WHEN - SHE HEARD THE NEWS - - -I - -When Messire Gilles de Crohin sought audience of Her Majesty the -Queen of Navarre on the following day at noon, she had just finished -dressing. She had been up betimes, been for a ride in the cool of -the early morning; she had broken her fast with a hearty appetite, -for she was young and full of health and vitality. All night she had -had happy dreams. The brother whom she loved, just as a mother loves -her most fractious and most unmanageable child, had at last been -brought to act decisively for himself; the goal of her ambitions for -him was in sight; in a very few months she--Marguerite--would have -the satisfaction of seeing him Sovereign Lord--King, perhaps--of one -of the finest countries in Europe, as powerful and more than was -brother Henri, King of France. - -She woke up happy, gay as a lark, contented in mind and merry of -humour. After her ride and her breakfast she had a rest, then she -put on a pretty gown, for she was a beautiful woman and knew the -value of clothes. Her intention now was to remain in La Fère while -her dear brother was in Cambray and to watch over his interests until -after he had been formally betrothed to Jacqueline de Broyart. After -that, she would proceed to Nerac to rejoin her husband. - -Having dressed and dismissed her waiting-women, Marguerite de Navarre -sat down beside the open casement-window in order to indulge in -pleasant daydreams. Five minutes later, one of her serving-men -entered in order to announce to Her Majesty that Messire Gilles de -Crohin, Seigneur de Froidmont, respectfully begged for an immediate -audience. - -There are moments in life when to all the senses it appears as if a -blow of sledge-hammer power and weight has suddenly fallen upon the -brain, numbing every thought, every capability and every sentient -action. Just such a moment was this one for Marguerite of Navarre. -That simple announcement--that Messire Gilles de Crohin desired an -audience--was the sledge-hammer blow which seemed to crush in the one -instant her entire volition and energy and to leave her unthinking, -spell-bound, a mere breathing, human machine, alive only by the power -of the eyes, which remained fixed upon the doorway wherein presently -she would see Messire Gilles. - -It was quite unconsciously that she had intimated to the serving-man -that she would receive Messire de Crohin. After that, she sat on and -gazed upon the doorway and listened as the familiar footfall -resounded along the corridor. Something had happened, or Gilles -would not be here. He would be on his way to Cambray with -_Monsieur_. Strangely enough, it never occurred to Marguerite of -Navarre that some simple, easily-explained if untoward accident had -brought Messire back to La Fère. She knew that something terrible -had happened, even before she saw Gilles standing at attention upon -the threshold. - -But while the serving-man was still within earshot, she found the -courage to say quite quietly and almost naturally: - -'Enter, Messire, I pray you, and close the door behind you. You are -right welcome.' - -Then, as soon as the door was closed, she added rapidly and in a -curious choked and hoarse voice: - -'My brother?' And as Gilles made no immediate reply, she continued: -'He hath met with an accident? He is dead?' - -'No! No!' protested Gilles quickly. - -'Then, what is it?' she queried. 'Speak, man, or I die of terror!' - -'Monseigneur le Duc d'Anjou did not go to Cambray last night, your -Majesty,' said Gilles quietly. - -Marguerite frowned. She did not understand. The news now appeared -trivial after what she had feared. - -'Not gone to Cambray?' she said slowly. 'But I saw him go--with you, -Messire.' - -'We started together, your Majesty, and rode together as far as -Noyon. Then Monseigneur went on his way and I returned hither.' - -'Monseigneur went on his way? What do you mean? And why did you go -to Noyon, which is not on the way to Cambray?' - -Gilles de Crohin sighed with impatience. But for his respect for the -exalted lady, he would have thought her strangely dull-witted to-day. - -'Monseigneur did not go to Cambray,' he reiterated slowly, like one -who is trying to infuse a lesson into the mind of a doltish child. -'He hath gone to Paris, on his way to some spot unknown to any -one--certainly unknown to me. He will be absent weeks--perhaps -months. He desired your Majesty to try and conciliate Monseigneur le -Baron d'Inchy and the other Flemish lords as best you can.' - -Marguerite of Navarre listened to Gilles until the end. Slowly, very -slowly, the perception of what had happened penetrated into her -brain. Her eyes were fixed upon him, glowing with an intense inward -fire. Gradually her breath came and went with ever-increasing -rapidity. Her left hand, which rested on the arm of her chair, -gripped the carving with a more and more convulsive clutch. Then -suddenly, without a cry or warning, her right hand fastened on a -heavy, unloaded pistol which lay, carelessly flung aside, upon the -table close to her, and she flung it at Gilles de Crohin's head. - -He dodged, and the massive weapon struck the door behind him and fell -with a clatter to the floor. - -'I could kill you,' said Marguerite de Navarre huskily, 'for bringing -me this news!' - -'If killing me would bring Monseigneur back,' riposted Gilles -quietly, 'your Majesty would be more than welcome to do it.' - -This sobered her, and she pulled herself together, blushing to the -roots of her hair when she realized that her hand had already seized -upon the small Italian dagger which, in accordance with the -prevailing fashion, she wore fastened to her girdle. These were but -semi-civilized times, and the days were not very far distant when the -messenger of evil tidings was slain for his pains. But now, when -Marguerite de Navarre encountered Gilles de Crohin's quiet, -good-humoured gaze, she dropped the little dagger and laughed almost -shamefacedly. - -'I ought not to have let him out of my sight,' she said simply. - -'It would have been wiser, your Majesty,' rejoined Gilles with a sigh. - -'Madame de Marquette sent for him, I suppose.' Then, as Gilles made -no reply to that, she added with sudden fierce contempt: 'And you -helped him to commit this treachery?' - -'Would you have me betray the man who trusts me?' he retorted. - -'He ordered you to play the farce of starting for Cambray?' - -'Yes.' - -'To throw dust in my eyes?' - -'Yes.' - -'To accompany him as far as Noyon?' - -'Yes.' - -'Then to return hither under cover of darkness?' - -'Yes.' - -'And to greet me on the morrow with the _fait accompli_?' - -'Yes.' - -'Holy Virgin!' she exclaimed. 'That men should be so base!' - -Tears of mortification, of humiliation, of wild, passionate anger, -had risen to her eyes. Heavy sobs choked the words in her throat. -For once in her life Marguerite of Navarre felt weak and undone and -was not ashamed of her weakness. She had piloted the chariot of her -brother's destiny with such marvellous success up to the dizzy -heights of her own restless ambition only to see it fall crashing to -the ground through his own treachery. - -'Oh, Messire Gilles!' she cried with bitter reproach; 'if only you -had served me as well as you have served my brother!' - -'I would give my life in your Majesty's service now,' he rejoined -simply, 'if anything that I could do could retrieve Monseigneur's -folly.' - -'If anything that you could do could retrieve Monseigneur's folly?' -murmured Marguerite slowly, laboriously, like a child repeating a -lesson. 'Alas! nothing can be done now to retrieve that, Messire.' - - -II - -Outside, a soft-toned bell struck the midday hour. The little -market-place beyond the courtyard lay bathed in wintry sunlight. Men -and women were moving to and fro, stopping to chat with one another -or exchanging a hasty greeting; men-at-arms jingled their spurs upon -the uneven pavements; burghers in dark cloth surtouts flitted -solemnly across the place. Marguerite watched with dreamy, -unconscious eyes the pulsating life of the somnolent little city. -With her, even life appeared at a standstill. With this hideous -treachery on the part of her beloved François, with this unexpected -shattering of all her hopes in sight of goal, she felt as if she -herself no longer existed, as if some other entity had chased her -soul away--her loving, ambitious, romantic soul--and taken possession -of her body. - -Gilles stood by, silent--looking down on her with infinite -compassion. He, the poor, homeless, penniless soldier of fortune, -found it in his heart to pity this young and adulated queen. He -would have liked to help her if he could. But the situation was now -a hopeless impasse. The curtain had rung up upon a brilliant drama -of glory and of satisfied ambition; but the principal actor was not -there to play his part, and the drama _must_ fail for want of him. - -'Shall I go now, your Majesty?' asked Gilles at last. - -But she made no reply. She sat on in the high-backed chair, looking -out upon the world beyond. There were happy people out there, -contented people. People who had humble aspirations, but who saw -them fulfilled. Better far to long for mere subsistence, to have few -and simple desires and see them satisfied, than to let one's ambition -soar to impossible heights which must for ever remain unattainable. -And Gilles remained standing some distance away from the Queen, -watching a whole world of varied emotions flitting rapidly over her -mobile face. First came anger and despair, hot resentment and bitter -contempt. The eyes looked steely and glittered with a fierce, inward -wrath, whilst not one line of tenderness softened the curve of the -closely set mouth. At this stage of her grim meditations it was -obvious to the keen watcher that Marguerite de Navarre felt that she -would never quite forgive the dearly loved brother this culminating -act of treachery. - -Then something of the hardness of the look went, and gave place to -one of utter hopelessness which, to Gilles who knew her buoyant -disposition, appeared quite heartrending. It were absolutely useless -now, that look seemed to say, to try and redeem so much folly, such -black and despicable cowardice. And there was the shameful -humiliation too, to endure, the necessary abasement before those -stiff-necked Flemish lords, those proud purists, rigid in their code -of honour. There was the bitter acknowledgment to come that a prince -of the House of France could so vilely break his word. - -But presently, even as the tears of wrath and humiliation still -glistened in Marguerite de Navarre's beautiful eyes, there crept -gradually into her face a strange look of puzzlement. It came -slowly, very slowly, just as if Fate, having struck her blow, was -beginning to relent and to whisper words of hope. Frowns came and -went between the pencilled brows, and inaudible whispers seemed to -come through the slightly parted lips. Then, still quite gradually, -a glow of excitement spread over the face, the eyes shone less -sombre, a ray of light, like unto a faint smile, played round the -corners of the lips. - -Then Marguerite de Navarre turned her pretty head and fixed her eyes -upon Gilles. And he who stood by, listening and watching, heard -distinctly that her lips murmured the two little words: 'Why not?' - -A quarter of an hour had gone by. Both the actors in this -palpitating little interlude had lost count of time--Gilles gazing -pityingly, almost remorsefully, on the Queen, and she, thinking, -thinking, wrestling with Fate, unwilling even now to give in. - -And all the while she was looking on Gilles with a puzzled frown, -whilst her lips kept on murmuring, as if unconsciously: 'Why not?' - - -III - -'Messire de Crohin,' said Marguerite of Navarre at last. 'You said -just now that you would give your life in my service if anything that -you could do at this hour would retrieve Monsieur's folly. Did you -mean all that you said, Messire?' - -Gilles smiled. 'I am not a Royal prince, Madame,' he said simply. -'I cannot afford the luxury of playing with my word. 'Tis all I -have.' - -She sighed and looked on him with those appealing yet compelling eyes -of hers, which had such marvellous power to bend poor, feeble man to -her will. - -'Oh! but do repeat what you said, Messire,' she said naïvely. 'If -you only knew how I long for an assurance of fidelity from one who is -really a man!' - -'I do repeat then, your Majesty, what I said before,' rejoined Gilles -solemnly; 'that I would give my life in your service if aught that I -can do will retrieve Monseigneur's folly.' - -She seemed to drink in his simple words as if they were nectar to her -soul--her soul, which was thirsting for loyalty, for service, for -strength and truth. Then she said quietly: - -'I'll put you to the test, Messire.' - -'If your Majesty pleases,' he replied. - -'I pray you,' she then resumed, speaking very quietly and with slow -but firm emphasis, 'to listen in silence and to the very end to what -I am going to say. However surprised or--or--unwilling you may feel, -do not raise any objections till after I have told you of the scheme -which I have just evolved in my mind, and which I firmly believe will -yet retrieve our family honour and secure for my brother the throne -of the Netherlands. God knows,' she added with a bitter sigh, 'that -he hath not deserved that you or I should still be working for him! -But when a prince of the House of Valois breaks his word, the shame -of it bears upon us all.' - -She paused, and in accordance with her desire Gilles remained silent, -listening. - -'Messire Gilles,' resumed Marguerite after awhile. 'There is, so I -am told, Valois blood in your veins. That blood hath given you a -glibness of tongue, at times wholly out of keeping with your -adventurous temperament. It has also given you--so gossip -avers--that persuasive eloquence which tickles pleasantly the ear of -women. In temperament and in bearing Nature hath favoured you more -generously than she did my brother. This perhaps is the only -possible hitch in the plan which I have devised.' - -Gilles frowned. It was his turn now to be exceedingly puzzled. - -'It has been arranged, Messire--and to this the Flemish lord gave his -consent--that _Monsieur_ Duc d'Anjou et d'Alençon shall woo his -future wife under a mask--under a mask,' she reiterated slowly. -'Ah!' she exclaimed, seeing that Gilles had suddenly given an -involuntary gasp. 'I see that already you understand! There is -something that you can do, Messire, to retrieve _Monsieur's_ folly. -You can act the rôle which I had assigned to him. You can don a mask -and woo Madame Jacqueline from beneath her casement window. How oft -in the past years have you impersonated your princely master in a -less avowable cause? How many blows and sabre-cuts have you received -on his behalf whilst he pursued some less worthy adventure? Nay! you -cannot deny that. I know so much of what my dear brother would -conceal from me. It can be done, Messire Gilles,' she added eagerly. -'It can be done, if you will loyally and faithfully serve me to this -end.' - -She paused, breathless and excited, and with glowing eyes fixed upon -Gilles de Crohin as if to probe his very soul and to extract from him -not only a consent, of which she was already assured, but the same -enthusiasm for her scheme which she felt herself. - -'Messire Gilles!' she exclaimed. 'It can be done! And now, in -Heaven's name, I pray you, speak! I can endure your silence no -longer!' - -Gilles smiled at her quaint inconsequence. Then he passed his -toil-worn hand through his rumpled hair. His look of utter -bewilderment was so ludicrous that, despite her anxiety, Marguerite -could not help but laugh. - -'Oh, Messire Gilles!' she cried. 'If you only knew how comical you -look!' - -'Comical, Madame?' retorted Gilles with a growl. 'So would you look -comical if you were suddenly confronted with so wild a proposition!' - -'Wild, Messire?' riposted the Queen. ''Tis the Flemish lords who -would be wild if my inventive brain had not conceived the -proposition.' - -'But, Madame----' protested Gilles feebly. - -'But, Messire,' retorted the Queen, mimicking the unfortunate man. -'Tell me,' she added more soberly, 'have you or have you not -impersonated _Monsieur_ before now?' - -'Well!' murmured Gilles, 'I confess that I...' - -'There was the affair with Monsieur de Ravache, for instance,' she -continued firmly. 'The sword-thrust which that invincible duellist -received in a certain affair of honour last June was openly -attributed to _Monsieur_; but those who were in the know have averred -that it was Messire Gilles de Crohin, and not the Duc d'Anjou, who -fought Monsieur de Ravache that night.' - -Gilles shrugged his shoulders and Marguerite went on glibly: - -'And in the fracas in a low booth outside Arras, when an irate father -and three bellicose brothers vowed vengeance against the princely -lover of an over-trusting wench, was it indeed _Monsieur_ Duc d'Anjou -who, beneath a mask and cloak, kept half a dozen sturdy swordsmen at -bay for close on half an hour? Or was it not rather Messire Gilles -de Crohin who fought single-handed thus valiantly, even while -_Monsieur_, disguised and furtive, found safety in flight?' - -'Your Majesty, I protest,' broke in Gilles firmly, 'that rumour is -nearly always a lying jade----' - -'Bah!' quoth Marguerite lightly. 'I'll challenge you to deny either -of these tales on your oath. And there is the story of the -jeweller's daughter, and that of Madame de Franqueville. The latter, -I believe, is still under the impression that M. le Duc d'Anjou is -the most ardent lover and the most chivalrous foe in France and that -he wears about his person all the evidences of a hard and adventurous -life. But why argue, Messire?' she continued impatiently. 'Even if -you had never in your life impersonated the shifty prince whom you -serve, I would ask you to do it now for his sake as well as for mine -own.' - -'But, in the name of all the saints in the calendar!' exclaimed -Gilles with an air of laughable helplessness, 'how is it all going to -be done? I shall be seen ... recognized ... the fraud exposed within -the first few hours ... and our second state will be distinctly worse -than our first.' - -'Exposed?' rejoined the Queen coolly. 'Who by? _Monsieur_ hath -never been in Cambray. Who should be acquainted with his appearance? -And, moreover, there will be the mask to ward off any untoward or -chance recognition.' - -'But hath your Majesty thought of Messire de Montigny?' retorted -Gilles dryly. 'He hath just spent half an hour in Monseigneur's -presence and is not blind, I imagine. A mere mask would not deceive -him.' - -'Ah! I thought that you would mention Messire de Montigny,' riposted -Marguerite triumphantly. 'Have you forgotten that he said he would -only just have time to see his brother and M. d'Inchy in Cambray, as -he was on his way to join the army of the Prince of Orange at -Utrecht?' - -'He may return at any time.' - -'He may,' said Marguerite calmly. 'I did not say,' she added with a -significant little smile, 'that there would be no risks, no dangers, -connected with the undertaking. If you fear to affront them, Messire -... why, there's nothing more to be said.' - -Marguerite de Navarre was far too clever not to know that in uttering -the word 'danger' she would be playing her trump card. 'Gilles' -objections were suddenly dissolved like smoke in thin air. He -laughed and said good-humouredly: - -'That was a clever move, Madame! I hated the affair until you spoke -of danger.' - -'And now?' she queried, smiling. - -'Now? Now?' he said. 'I merely repeat: how is it going to be done?' - -'In exactly the same manner in which the affair, say, with Madame de -Franqueville was conducted,' she replied. - -'But there we had an object to attain, Madame--a none too avowable -one, I own, but still an object. But here ... suppose I sigh beneath -Madame Jacqueline's window effectually? Suppose she falls in love -with her unknown swain? Suppose she grants him an interview?.... We -should still be where we now are! 'Tis Monseigneur who will have to -marry Madame Jacqueline de Broyart--not I.' - -'Do not trouble your head about that, good Messire,' retorted -Marguerite dryly. 'We only want to gain time. You do your wooing; -I'll see that _Monsieur_ is there to wed.' - -'But----' - -'Oh! I know him well enough,' she continued with an impatient sigh. -'His present caprice--I suppose it is Madame de Marquette--will not -last a week. At the end of a sennight or less he will come back -fawning to me, satiated, bored and repentant, ready to do -anything--even to marry Madame Jacqueline blindfolded--in order to -regain my good graces. All that we want,' pleaded Marguerite with a -sudden softening of her voice and of her whole attitude, 'is to gain -time--a few days' time, Messire--while I go hunting for my faithless -brother. I cannot go and tell Monseigneur de Lalain and M. le Baron -d'Inchy that _Monsieur_ Duc d'Anjou of the princely House of Valois -hath fled from his obligations. Those obligations must be fulfilled -at all costs, Messire ... at all costs, you understand? Nominally, -Monsieur must be in Cambray within three days, and you must keep -Madame Jacqueline amused and happy until I send you word that -_Monsieur_ is on his way--ready to take your place.' - -'But----' murmured Gilles again, in a final attempt at protest. - -She, however, would not allow him to get in a word edgewise now. - -'When Monseigneur arrives,' she went on with eager volubility, 'you, -Messire, will give up your dual rôle, become once again the one and -only Sire de Froidmont. When _Monsieur_ appears unmasked before his -promised bride, we must see to it that plenty of padding do -supplement his somewhat narrow shoulders and sunken chest, for Madame -Jacqueline and her entourage will have been accustomed by then to -your broad stature, Messire; but no one will have seen the face of -the masked swain. Oh, Messire Gilles! Messire Gilles!' she -exclaimed, clasping her hands together with a gesture of passionate -entreaty. 'With a little thought, a little care and a little luck, -it can all be done so easily if you will but consent! Say yes, -Messire! and the prayers of a harassed Queen and a doting sister will -bring blessings down upon your loyal head!' - - -IV - -The tears were in Marguerite de Navarre's eyes as she extended an -appealing hand to Gilles de Crohin. He, poor wretch, had not much -choice. His loyalty had been requisitioned in such terms that he -could not refuse. And, remember, that Gilles de Crohin, the soldier -of fortune, was nothing if not adventurous. Deep down in his heart -something was already stirring which tickled his imagination and -fired his ardent blood. Like a war-horse scenting battle, he scented -excitement, danger, hair-breadth escapes, sword-thrusts given and -received--all of which was to him the very essence of life. And -there was something exceedingly pleasant, too, in the gratitude of -this beautiful and accomplished woman--a Queen indeed, in the highest -acceptance of the word. - -Messire Gilles' life had been very dull and dreary of late. He had -set out once--very long ago and when he was a mere lad--to carve out -his own fortune in the world. Penniless, and bearing a noble name -which the penury of two generations had somewhat tarnished, he -dreamed, when he was still in his teens, that Fate reserved something -very glorious and very wonderful for him. A decade and more had gone -by since then, and Messire Gilles had found that the cornucopia of -Fate held more thistles than roses for him. The wars now were so -inglorious; the days of chivalry had gone, never to return. The -princes in high places, whom adventurers such as he were destined to -serve, had nothing to offer for devoted allegiance save a miserable -pittance often withheld. - -As a matter of fact, Messire Gilles de Crohin had of late been -heartily sick of life. The spirit of adventure that glowed within -him was gradually becoming somnolent. He felt that even his blood -would become sluggish in time if he dragged on this uneventful -existence in the wake of an indolent and dissolute prince. - -Then, in the midst of all this dreary dullness, came this ray of -sunshine--an adventure such as he, Gilles, had not dreamed of since -his boyhood--an adventure proposed to him by the fairest lips in -Europe--which would bring all the excitement with it for which he -yearned so passionately. No wonder that every objection seemed to -him all at once to be futile, every obstacle mere child's play. - -And Marguerite, keen and clever, saw at once that he was wavering, -just as de Montigny had done yesterday. Long before either of these -two men realized themselves that they were yielding, she _knew_ that -she had gained her point. - -'You gave me your word, Messire,' she said gently. - -'And I'll not go back on it, Madame,' he replied. - -'Yet you hesitate!' - -'Your pardon, Madame,' he rejoined with a smile. 'I was only -bewildered.' - -'Then you consent?' she exclaimed joyfully. - -He shrugged his shoulders with his habitual easy-going good-humour. - -'Madame gives me no choice,' he said. 'I cannot go back on my word.' - -He bent the knee and kissed the gracious hand which was extended to -him. Marguerite's eyes were still bathed in tears. - -'If anything that I can do,' reiterated Gilles de Crohin solemnly, -'will retrieve Monseigneur's folly I'll do it.' - -'Ah!' she riposted gently. 'But 'tis your solemn oath I want, -Messire Gilles.' - -'My word of honour, Madame,' he retorted bluntly, 'hath always been -found sufficient.' - -'Nay! your oath!' she insisted, pleading once more. 'A solemn, -binding oath! One,' she added naïvely, 'which, if broken, would land -you in hell.' Then, as a sudden scowl gathered on Gilles' brow, she -continued in a tone of sadness and self-pity: 'Do not be angered, -Messire. I know you for a loyal gentleman and have no doubt that, to -you, your word is as good as your oath. But I have been so oft -deceived, so oft befooled, that a man's word of honour hath lost its -value in mine eyes. Can you blame me, remembering what I am -suffering now?' - -Gilles' sense of humour saved the situation. His word of honour had -of a truth never been doubted, but in face of this sorely outraged -woman, he could not take offence. - -'What oath shall I take,' he queried, with a good-humoured smile, -'that will satisfy the Queen of Navarre?' - -'On your immortal soul, Messire,' she said solemnly; 'on your hopes -of salvation; on all that you hold most precious and most dear, swear -to me that you will serve me in this matter as I shall direct you, -and until I myself do release you from this bond.' - -He drew his cross-hilted sword and held it fixed before his eyes. -Then he placed his right hand upon the hilt and said with solemn -earnestness: 'I swear.' - -Marguerite gave a quick sigh of content. She watched Gilles with -evident satisfaction as he rose to his feet, sheathed his sword and -then stood before her in all his picturesque ruggedness, a perfect -presentment of a man, strong, reliable--oh! above all, reliable!!! - -'Now, Madame,' said 'Gilles finally, 'will you deign to tell me just -what I am to do?' - - -V - -For an hour and more after that, these two--veritable conspirators -now--sat together, the Queen of Navarre talking and explaining -eagerly and Gilles listening; for of a truth he was still rather -bewildered at the proposition and at the part which he would have to -play in it. Not that the rôle itself was unfamiliar to him. He had -played it often enough, as Marguerite had very shrewdly said, and in -far less avowable causes; but never for any length of time. It had -been a matter of fighting a duel or meeting an inconvenient -interlocutor; a matter of stepping into his Royal master's shoes for -half an hour or so, and as oft as not under cover of a dim light. -But now he would have to sustain the part for days--weeks, -perhaps--never forgetting, always on the alert, always fearful lest a -word, a gesture, an inflexion of the voice, should betray him. And -he had sworn so solemnly on what he held most sacred and most dear -that he would see the business through! Ye gods! but it was a hard -proposition for a simple-minded soldier of fortune to tackle! - -Marguerite of Navarre, however, was for laughing away every -difficulty which stood in her path. - -'It has got to be done, Messire!' she said more than once, and with -ever-increasing earnestness. 'For the honour of France and of her -Royal House.' - -She began by giving Gilles more money than he had ever seen before, -taking purse after purse of gold from her private coffer and watching -him as, puzzled and confused, he stowed these away in the inner -pockets of his doublet and breeches. - -'I haven't earned all this yet,' he muttered ruefully. - -'You will want it,' she rejoined. 'You are a prince, remember, and -though you will be travelling incognito, you must live like a prince.' - -But the question of clothes was the most difficult one to settle. -Gilles de Crohin possessed none save those in which he stood up at -this moment: a well-worn doublet of faded kerseymere, a stout jerkin -and cloth trunks. His hose showed a multiplicity of darns, and his -boots, though stout and solid, were not exactly suited to a lady's -drawing-room. - -'Time is too short to fashion new ones,' said Marguerite -thoughtfully; 'even if this little town did boast of silken materials -and Court tailors; which it certainly does not!' - -'It certainly doth appear in the light of an insurmountable -difficulty,' rejoined Gilles with a hopeful sigh. - -'No difficulty is insurmountable, Messire, when the honour of France -is at stake,' she retorted with a frown. - -'But----' - -'What hath _Monsieur_ done with his wardrobe?' asked Marguerite. 'He -always travels with trunk-loads of frippery.' - -'Monseigneur left all his clothes here and most of his jewellery. I -am to convey them to his house in Paris when an opportunity occurs.' - -'Very well,' she rejoined firmly; 'we must find what you want among -them.' - -'But----' he broke in once more, disconcerted at the suggestion. - -'But what?' - -'The trunks are locked.' - -'I'll break them open,' she rejoined simply. 'Have no fear, Messire; -I am taking all the responsibility of this affair upon my shoulders.' - -'But I cannot strut about in another man's clothes!' protested Gilles -dolefully. - -'Why not?' - -'Because ... because ... _parbleu!_ because they would not fit me!' - -Marguerite smiled. Then she threw another admiring glance on Gilles' -massive figure. - -'My brother is very nearly as tall as you are, Messire, she said,' -even though not quite so broad. I have two very skilful seamstresses -who will adjust _Monsieur's_ doublets across your splendid shoulders. -With his love of slashings and puffings, such alterations are very -easily done.' - -'But the boots----' protested Gilles again. - -'You have the small foot, Messire,' she replied dryly, 'which you -inherit from your Valois ancestor.' - -'The Lord help me, your Majesty!' he exclaimed piteously. 'You have -thought of everything, and I am a puppet in your august hands.' - -'Therefore I entreat you not to argue any further,' she retorted -gaily, 'or I shall think that you are repenting of your bargain--and -of your oath.' - -Which suggestion caused Gilles to cease from further protests, even -though he did express a hope that Her Majesty's seamstresses would -not make gossip all about the town that he--the Sire de -Froidmont--was going to walk about in another man's clothes. - -'My women never gossip,' said Marguerite dryly, after which she -abruptly changed the subject. 'And now tell me,' she said. 'A man -like you must have a friend, a comrade or a servant--some one, in -fact, who would be faithful and trustworthy. You will want a -companion on your journey. Messire, have you such a friend?' - -'Aye! that I have,' replied Gilles fervently, his whole face beaming -with joy at thought of having his faithful Jehan with him in this mad -expedition. - -'One who would serve you faithfully?' she continued. - -'To the death, your Majesty.' - -'And cleverly?' she insisted. 'You will both have to keep your wits -about you.' - -Gilles smiled. 'Maître Jehan,' he said, 'hath no wits to speak of, -Madame; but he hath a heart of gold and muscles of steel. Nature -hath forced him to hold his tongue, for he stutters like a clucking -hen. He is invaluable for circumventing an inopportune visitor or -misunderstanding an imperative command. We have fought side by side -these past ten years and have nearly bled to death or been frozen to -death together before now. Jehan will do for me what I would do for -you, Madame.' - -'You are lucky, Messire,' rejoined Marguerite simply, 'to have such a -friend. And I,' she added, with an engaging smile,' to have such an -one, too. Maître Jehan shall journey to Cambray with you as your -serving-man. With his prowess and your own invincible courage and -strength, the very thought of failure appears treasonable. Ah, -Messire Gilles!' she continued eagerly, 'I beg of you to cast all -doubts aside! Have no fear, I entreat you--no fear of failure or of -gossip! And, above all, trust me! Trust me, Messire, that whatever -happens, I will not leave you in the lurch. Only trust me! Trust -me! You shall not suffer through serving me! On the faith of -Marguerite of Navarre!' - -She gave him her hand again, and through tears of emotion gave him a -glance of appreciation and of confidence. Gilles had no more -resistance left in him; and as he looked into those lovely eyes which -had already played such havoc with men's wills and with men's hearts, -he sighed with resignation and with only a transient thought for the -morrow. None knew better than the Sire de Froidmont the exact value -of promises made by princes or by women. To-day Marguerite of -Navarre's clever mind and warm heart were filled with enthusiasm for -this new scheme of hers; a week hence, mayhap, she would have thought -of something else, and Gilles--as like as not--would indeed be left -to bear the brunt of failure. - -But these were just the vicissitudes which were wont to attend the -career of a soldier of fortune these days. A dazzling prize or a -gibbet might await the adventurer at the end of his goal. For the -nonce, Gilles had sworn to serve this gracious lady and to redeem the -unpardonable folly of a faithless prince, and with a careless shrug -of the shoulders he left the future in Dame Fortune's hands. - -'I will give you an autograph letter,' resumed Marguerite more -quietly after awhile, 'for M. le Baron d'Inchy, governor of Cambray, -and one for Maître Julien at the hostelry of "Les Trois Rois." These -will serve as your credentials in addition to the safe-conducts which -Messire de Montigny delivered to _Monsieur_. You have those, I hope.' - -'Yes, Madame,' replied Gilles. 'Monseigneur left them with me. If -your Majesty deigns to remember, they were e'en made out in my name.' - -'In the name of Messire Gilles de Crohin, the equerry and of -Monseigneur le prince de Froidmont!' she exclaimed gleefully. -'Indeed, I mind it well! You will not even have to change your name, -Messire; and the title shall be yours, an' you desire it, when my -brother is King of the Netherlands.' - -Gilles shrugged his shoulders. 'Oh! a title, Madame...!' he said -lightly. - -'I know! I know!' she riposted, with the volubility of intense -excitement. 'I know your proud device: "Roy ne suys, ne Prince, ne -Duc, ne Comte. Je suys Sire de Froide Monte." Ah, Messire Gilles! -you were fated to belie that device! Prince de Froidmont--'tis no -mean title.' - -'I prefer that of Friend of the Queen of Navarre,' he said simply. - -'You are that indeed, Messire, and more,' she rejoined solemnly. -'Ah! if my brother were only like you, what glorious destiny would -have been his!' - -'Our destinies are of our own making, Madame,' he retorted. - -'You have started to carve them out for yourself now, Messire Gilles, -on the tablets of my memory.' - -'Then may God and the Fates favour me!' - -'The Fates?' she cried gaily. 'Why, you and I have conquered the -Fates, Messire. Will you deny that they are our handmaidens now?' - - - - -CHAPTER VI - - WHAT MONSEIGNEUR D'INCHY AND MESSIRE GILLES DE - CROHIN MUTUALLY THOUGHT OF ONE ANOTHER - - -I - -And three days later, an' it please you, Messire Gilles presented -himself, his safe-conduct and his faithful Jehan at the Porte de -Cantimpré. - -The safe-conduct being made out in the name of Monseigneur le Prince -de Froidmont, his equerry, Messire Gilles de Crohin, and his -serving-man, the absence of one of the three personages was casually -commented on by the Captain of the Guard. - -'My equerry hath fallen sick on the way,' explained Gilles airily. -'He lies at a village inn close by and will come as soon as may be.' - -It was at once arranged that whenever the equerry did present himself -at the gate, Monseigneur le Prince de Froidmont was immediately to be -apprised of his arrival so that he might at once stand guarantee for -the man's identity. Needless to say that no such equerry existed, -nor does the Captain of the Guard appear to have worried his head -over so small a matter. But, anyway, Gilles now was inside Cambray, -the scene of his coming adventure, and I can assure you that on this -first occasion--it was late evening then and a cold, drizzling rain -was blurring every outline of the picturesque city--Gilles did not -stride about the streets with that careless jauntiness which -characterized his usual demeanour. - -After some searchings and many wanderings through the most -unfrequented portions of the city, Messire did finally espy the Rue -aux Juifs, at one end of which there dangled on a ricketty iron -bracket a half-obliterated sign that still bore the legend 'Les Trois -Rois' in black paint on a crimson ground and three dabs of pink -paint, surmounted by dabs of yellowish paint, which might still pass -muster as kingly faces surmounted by their crowns. Now, if you -remember, the Rue aux Juifs in Cambray is a narrow street which runs -behind the Place aux Bois, and links the latter with the Porte Notre -Dame. Owing to the elaborate corbelling of the old houses on either -side, it appeared far narrower in the year 1581 than it does -to-day,[1] and the hostelry so pretentiously styled 'Les Trois Rois' -was of the humblest description. - - -[1] In the spring of 1914. - - -Gilles was satisfied to find it so. He liked its seclusion and had -never been _difficile_ in the matter of his creature comforts. -Secrecy and mutual confidence were the greatest desiderata for the -moment in the pursuit of his adventure, and he knew enough about the -exquisite Queen of Navarre that if any male creature who dwelt within -'Les Trois Rois' had come within the magic circle of her fascination, -that man would go through fire and water, torture and hell itself, in -order to serve her. - -So he knocked boldly at the ricketty front door of the humble -hostelry. A young man, thin and pale, wearing a long doublet of dark -woollen stuff and a black cap above his scanty yellow hair, opened -the door and bade him welcome. He had a lanthorn in his hand and -held it high above his head, surveying the stranger with that -pathetic air, half-fear, half-entreaty, wherewith the very poor are -wont to regard those who might bring about a small measure of change -in their misery. - -Gilles at once presented the letter which Madame la Reyne de Navarre -had given him for his prospective host. The young man glanced at the -latter, recognized the signature, and at once his almost -cadaverous-looking face became transfigured. His hollow eyes took on -a glow of joy, his cheeks assumed a warm hue, his long, bony hands -clutched the welcome missive as an idolater might clutch the relic -which he worshipped. - -There was no doubt that Messire Gilles would be made welcome--and -right welcome--in the humble hostelry. Not only would discretion be -assured him, but also unswerving devotion, of which indeed he might -presently stand in sore need. - -'My mother,' stammered the youth, after he had recovered from his -primary emotion, 'is bedridden now, alas! but I will do my best to -serve you, Messire, and your henchman, to the best of my ability. I -will tend you and wait on you, and whatever this humble abode hath to -offer is entirely at your disposal. My liege lady commands,' he -added, drawing up his spare frame with the air of a devotee in the -presence of his hero. 'I will obey her in all things!' - -We will not say that Gilles was exactly gratified to hear that the -hostess of 'Les Trois Rois' was bedridden and would be unable to -attend on him, but it is certain that he was not grieved. With this -young enthusiast alone to attend on him and to share the secret of -his adventure, he was as secure from untimely discovery as it was -possible under the circumstances to be. - - -II - -At eleven o'clock the next morning, Gilles sent word round to -Monseigneur the governor of the Cambrésis that he would wait on him -within the hour. Together with this message he sent the sealed -letter wherein the Queen of Navarre commended her dear brother -François, Duc d'Anjou, to the good graces of Monseigneur the governor. - -At the hour when the messenger arrived, M. le Comte de Lalain, who -was governor of Flanders and one of d'Inchy's closest associates, was -closeted with the latter in one of the stately rooms of the -Archiepiscopal Palace where M. d'Inchy had taken up his abode after -he had dispossessed the Archbishop and taken possession of the city. -D'Inchy, obviously nervy and anxious, quickly dismissed the -messenger; then he turned to de Lalain and, throwing the Queen's -letter across the table to him, he said briefly: 'Well, he has come!' - -De Lalain in his turn read the letter through. Then he sighed. - -'Yes,' he said. 'He, at any rate, seems determined to carry the -adventure through.' - -'I hope to God that we have done right,' rejoined d'Inchy. 'The -whole thing, now that it is upon us, appears to me more foolish than -ever it did before.' - -'And there is no drawing back now, unfortunately.' - -'The whole affair is in God's hands,' quoth d'Inchy sententiously. - -'In the hands of an irresponsible and dissolute prince,' said the -other moodily. 'I blame de Montigny for having consented so readily.' - -'Then you must blame yourself too, my friend,' retorted d'Inchy -dryly. 'You, too, consented, and so did I....' - -'I know that well enough! Like yourself, de Montigny and I acted for -the best, though I for one could even now with zest strike that -Valois Prince in the face for this insult upon our ward.' - -But d'Inchy apparently was all for a conciliating attitude and a -cheerful view of the situation. - -'Do not,' he said lightly, 'let us use grandiloquent words, my dear -de Lalain. There is no insult in a man's desire to see the woman -whom he is asked to wed. For the time being Jacqueline will hold -herself aloof. She will appear little in public, and then only -wearing a mask. After a few days, if affairs seem to be shaping to -our satisfaction, we can always allow a certain degree of intimacy. -Jacqueline is so beautiful that we really run no risk of refusal. -And,' he added with a quick sign of finality, 'in any case we had no -choice.' - -'Alas, no!' rejoined de Lalain ruefully. 'For of a truth I cannot -bring myself to believe in Orange as the saviour of the Netherlands. -He thinks that he can rally the burghers and the mass of the people -to his standard. But I doubt it. And if he fails in his present -campaign we shall all fall into a veritable abyss of humiliation and -dependence on those abominable Spaniards--far worse than ever before.' - -'And all our friends think the same, as you well know, my good de -Lalain,' continued d'Inchy firmly. 'An alliance with a prince of the -House of France is safer than a submission to the leadership of -Orange. We want the help of France; we want her well-trained armies, -her capable generals, the weight of her wealth and influence to drive -the Spaniards out of our provinces. Elizabeth of England promises -much but holds little. She is on the side of Orange. I am on the -side of France.' - -'So am I, my good d'Inchy,' rejoined de Lalain; 'else I had never -consented to the Queen of Navarre's madcap scheme.' - -'Nor I,' concluded d'Inchy with the solemn earnestness of political -fanaticism. 'So why all these misgivings, my good friend?' - -'Was it fair to the girl?' murmured the other almost involuntarily. -'Monsieur is as fickle as he is unprincipled. Had we the right to -toy with a woman's heart--a young girl's--our kinswoman----?' - -'You wrong Jacqueline by such doubts, my friend. She is not a child -nor yet an irresponsible girl. She knows that her person and her -fortune are powerful assets in the future of her country. She is a -patriot, and will never allow sentiment to overrule her duty.' - -Perhaps de Lalain would have liked to continue the argument. -Obviously his conscience was smiting him a little now that the -curtain had actually rung up on the first act of the foolish -adventure. The ill-fame of the Valois prince had preceded him long -ago. De Lalain knew--and so did d'Inchy, so did de Montigny--that -_Monsieur_ was both profligate and faithless. He, like the others, -had entered into a bargain with one whom they could never trust. Was -it fair? Was it just? Would God's blessing descend upon the -proposed Kingdom of the Netherlands if its foundations rested on so -infamous a base? And yet de Lalain, though conscious of that vague -feeling of remorse, had no thought of turning back. Even now, as a -tall, masked figure appeared under the lintel of the door in the wake -of the usher, and then stepped boldly into the room, he made a great -effort to control his resentment. Though his hand ached to drag the -mask away from the man's face, to try and read him eye to eye, his -reason re-asserted itself, re-adjusted his thoughts and his -sentiments. 'This,' it whispered insistently, 'this man who has come -to Cambray masked and disguised, is a prince of the House of France. -If he approve of the beautiful Flemish heiress and consents to take -her for wife, the future of the Netherlands is assured, even though -he were twenty times as base as he is depicted.' - -And reason gained the victory. D'Inchy already had gone a few steps -forward in order to greet his exalted visitor. De Lalain composed -himself too, even paid an involuntary tribute of admiration to that -tall and martial-looking figure which enshrined, so rumour had it, a -soul that was both weak and false. - - -III - -And Messire Gilles de Crohin, the penniless soldier of fortune, the -mountebank set to play an unworthy part, was greeted by these two -proud Flemish nobles with all the respect due to a prince of the -House of France. And indeed there was nothing mean or humble about -his appearance even though he had come to Cambray with only one man -to serve him, and that man a rough and uncouth soldier with a -ludicrous stutter which would at once have provoked the gibes of -Monseigneur, the governor's servants, but for the fact that Maître -Jehan's fists appeared as hard and harder than their heads, and that -his temper was so hot that he had already put the first scoffers to -flight by the mere rolling of his eyes. He was standing at this -precise moment immediately behind his master, and as soon as the -usher had withdrawn and the door been closed, he slipped quite -unostentatiously into the nearest corner and remained there, with his -eyes fixed on Messire like a faithful watch-dog, silent and keen. - -The two Flemish lords had also waited until the usher had -disappeared; then only did they make obeisance, with all the -ceremonious empressment which the presence of a Royal personage -demanded. - -Let us admit at once that Gilles looked magnificent in Monsieur le -Duc d'Anjou's splendid clothes--doublet and trunks of fine satin, -slashed and puffed after the latest fashion; hose of Italian silk and -short mantle of Genoa velvet, exquisitely embroidered in dull silver -and gold, the whole of that sombre bottle-green hue specially -affected by _Monsieur_ and a miracle of the dyer's subtle art. He -had ruffles at neck and wrist of delicate Mechlin lace, wore a mask -with a frill of black lace pendant from it, which effectually hid the -whole of his face, and at his side a rapier which obviously hailed -from Toledo. Altogether a splendid prince! And it was difficult -indeed to credit the rumours which averred that he had undermined his -constitution by high living and drinking and a life of profligacy and -excess. - -He received the greetings of the Flemish lords with just the -necessary measure of gracious condescension, and through the slits of -his mask he was studying with keen anxiety what might be hidden -behind those stolid and stern faces and the frowning glances -wherewith two pairs of eyes were steadfastly regarding him. - -D'Inchy waited in dutiful respect till _Monsieur_, Duc d'Anjou, was -pleased to be seated; then he said: - -'Monseigneur understood, I hope, how it was that we did not present -our respects to you in person. Such a ceremony would have set the -tongues of our town gossips wagging more furiously than before.' - -Already, it seemed that the presence of the stranger inside Cambray -had created some comment. In these days, when the Spanish armies -swarmed all over the province, when plots and counter-plots were -being constantly hatched in favour of one political side or another, -strangers were none too welcome inside the city. There was the -constant fear of spies or of traitors, of emissaries from Spain or -France or England, of treason brewed or brewing, which might end in -greater miseries yet for any unfortunate province which was striving -for its own independence and the overthrow of Spanish tyranny. -Gilles, listening with half an ear to Monseigneur d'Inchy's elaborate -compliments, was inwardly marvelling whether spies had not already -come upon his track and would upset the Queen of Navarre's plans even -before they had come to maturity. He had a curious and exceedingly -uncomfortable sensation of unreality, as if these two stern-looking -Flemings were not actual personages but puppets moved by an unseen -hand for the peopling of his dreams. He answered the elaborate -flummeries of the governor with a vague: 'I thank you, Messire.' -Then he added a little more coherently: 'I understood everything, -believe me, and must again thank you for acceding to my wishes and to -those of my sister, the Queen of Navarre.' - -'Our one desire, Monseigneur,' continued d'Inchy stiffly, and still -speaking very deferentially, 'our one desire is to see the -sovereignty of the Netherlands secure in your keeping.' - -Gilles roused himself. It was no use and ill policy to boot to allow -that feeling of unreality to dominate his mood so utterly. If he let -himself drift upon these waves of somnolence he might, with one -unguarded word, betray the grave interests which had been committed -to his care. - -'That is understood, Messire,' he said dryly. 'Messire de Montigny -put the whole matter before me and before my sister of Navarre. We -both fell in readily with your schemes. As for me, you know my -feelings in the matter. I only asked for delay and consideration ere -I pledged myself irrevocably to so grave an affair.' - -'And we, equally readily, Monseigneur,' asserted de Lalain, 'do place -ourselves entirely at your service.' - -After which preliminary exchange of compliments, the Flemings were -ready to discuss the matter in all its bearings. All the arguments -which had been adduced by de Montigny when the proposed marriage was -being discussed before the Queen of Navarre, were once more dished up -for the benefit of _Monsieur_. Gilles played his part with as much -ease as his want of experience would allow; but he was a soldier and -not a courtier, ill-versed too in the art of guarded speeches. He -fumed and fretted over all these pourparlers quite as much and more -than _Monsieur_ would have done, and once or twice he caught sight -through the slits of his mask of certain glances of puzzled -wonderment which passed between the two men at a more than usually -rough retort which had escaped his lips. - -Half an hour drew its weary length along while the discussion -proceeded, and it was at the very end of that time that M. le Baron -d'Inchy said quite casually: - -'Of course, you, Monseigneur, will understand that since you choose -to do your wooing under a mask, our ward, Madame Jacqueline de -Broyart, Dame de Morchipont, Duchesse et Princesse de Ramèse, will -not appear in public either, save also with a mask covering her face.' - -Now Madame la Reyne de Navarre had not thought of this eventuality, -and indeed if it had truly been _Monsieur_ Duc d'Anjou who had -received this ultimatum, he would undoubtedly have then and there -turned on his heel and left these mulish Flemings to settle their own -affairs as they wished. But Gilles had sworn to see the business -through. Left to himself in this difficulty, he was for the moment -puzzled, but never tempted to give up the game. The two Flemish -lords appeared so determined, and with it all so pleased, with their -counter-stroke, that any kind of argument would only have ended -either in humiliating acquiescence or in the breaking off of the -negotiations then and there. The latter being of course unthinkable, -Gilles thought it best to take this part of the adventure as lightly -as he had taken the rest. - -''Tis hard for a man to woo a maid whose face he is not allowed to -see,' he said, by way of protest. - -'Oh, Monseigneur is pleased to jest!' was d'Inchy's calm rejoinder. -'It was agreed that you should come to Cambray and see the noble lady -who holds in her dainty hand the sovereignty of the Netherlands for -her future lord; but, as Messire de Montigny had the honour to tell -you, Madame Jacqueline de Broyart is not going to be trotted out for -any man's inspection--be he King or Emperor, or Prince--like a filly -that is put up for sale.' - -'But man----' retorted Gilles, nettled by the Flemish lord's coolness. - -'I crave Monseigneur's pardon,' broke in d'Inchy with perfect outward -deference; 'but we must remember that Monseigneur also is here for -inspection. If Madame Jacqueline refuses the alliance, neither I nor -my co-guardian would dream of forcing her choice.' - -'That is understood, Messire,' rejoined Gilles coldly. 'And I have -set myself the task of wooing the lady with ardour, so as to win her -affection as well as her hand.' - -'Oh, Monseigneur....' protested the Fleming with a deprecating smile. -'That is hardly the position, is it? You have reserved unto yourself -the right to withdraw. Well, we arrogate that same right for our -ward.' - -'A just arrogation, Messire,' riposted Gilles. 'But why the mask?' -he added blandly. - -'If Monseigneur will woo Madame definitely and openly,' replied -d'Inchy firmly, 'she will not wear a mask either. But then there can -be no question of withdrawal if she consents.' - -Now, to woo Madame Jacqueline definitely and openly was just the one -thing Gilles could not do. So there was the difficulty and there the -cunning and subtlety of these Flemish lords, who had very cleverly -succeeded in getting _Monsieur_ into a corner and in safeguarding at -the same time the pride and dignity of the greatest heiress in -Flanders. Gilles would have given all the worlds which he did not -possess for the power to consult with Madame la Reyne de Navarre over -this new move on the part of the Flemings. But, alas! she was far -away now, flying across France after her faithless brother, hoping -soon to catch him by the tails of his satin doublet and to drag him -back to the feet of the rich heiress whom that unfortunate Gilles was -deputed to woo and win for him. And Gilles was left to decide for -himself, which he did with a 'Very well, Messire, it shall be as you -wish!' and as gracious a nod and bow to these two obstinate men as he -could bring himself to perform; for, of a truth, he would gladly have -given each a broken head. - -Thus the actual discussion of the affair was ended. After that, -there were only a few minor details to talk over. - -'You two gentlemen,' Gilles said after a slight pause, during which -he had been wondering whether it were a princely thing to do to rise -and take his leave. 'You two gentlemen are alone in the secret of -this enterprise?' - -'For the moment, yes,' replied d'Inchy guardedly. 'But others will -have to know ... some might even guess. I shall have to explain the -matter to my private secretary, and one or two members of my Privy -Council have certain rights which we could not disregard.' - -'And what about Messire de Montigny?' queried Gilles warily. - -'He hath gone to Utrecht to join the Prince of Orange.' - -'When doth he return?' - -'Not before the summer.' - -A short, quick sigh of relief escaped Gilles' lips. At the back of -his mind there had always lurked the ever-present fear of one who -wilfully deceives his fellow-men--the fear of being found out. In -this, Montigny was the greatest, nay! the only danger. With him out -of the way, the chances of discovery became remote. - -'To every one else, then, Messire,' he continued more firmly, 'I -shall pass as the Prince de Froidmont.' - -'To every one else, Monseigneur,' replied d'Inchy. - -'To Madame Jacqueline de Broyart?' - -'Certainly, Monseigneur.' - -'She hath no suspicions?' - -'None.' - -'Doth she know that it is your desire she should become the wife of -the Duc d'Anjou ... that she should become my wife, I mean?' - -'No, Monseigneur; she does not.' - -'Then I have a clear field before me!' he exclaimed gaily. - -'A clear field, Monseigneur,' broke in de Lalain firmly, 'for two -weeks.' - -'Two weeks?' retorted Gilles with a quick frown. 'Why only two -weeks?' - -'Because,' said the other with solemn earnestness, 'because the Duke -of Parma's armies are already swarming over our province. If they -should invest Cambray we could not hold out alone. Monseigneur must -be ready by then to support us with influence, with men and with -money. If you turned your back on us and on the proposed alliance -with a Flemish heiress, we should have to look once more to Orange as -our future Lord.' - -'I understand,' rejoined Gilles dryly. ''Tis an "either--or" that -you place before me.' - -Then, as d'Inchy remained respectfully silent, M. de Lalain broke in -abruptly: - -'Think you, Monseigneur, that the people of the Netherlands, after -all that they have suffered in intolerance and religious persecution, -would accept a Catholic sovereign unless his wife, at least, were of -_their_ nation and of their faith?' - -A sharp retort hovered on Gilles' lips; already a curt 'Pardi, -Messire----' had escaped him, when suddenly he paused, listening. A -loud ripple of laughter, merry, sunny, girlish, rang out clearly from -beyond the monumental doors, rising in its joyous cadence above the -oppressive silence and solemnity of this gloomy Palace and the grave -colloquy of Monsieur d'Inchy and his colleagues. Only for a moment, -and the laughter died away again, making the silence and solemnity -seem more gloomy than before. It seemed to Gilles as if it all were -part of that same dream, that it was really intangible and -non-existent, just like these sober seigneurs, like himself, like the -whole situation which had landed him--Gilles de Crohin--into the -midst of this mad adventure. - -He threw back his head and laughed in hearty echo. The whole humour -of the situation suddenly struck him with the full force of its -irresistible appeal. Life had been so dull, so drab, so uneventful -of late! Here was romance and excitement and gaiety; a beautiful -maid--Gilles had become suddenly convinced that she was -beautiful--some blows; some knocks; a master to serve; a beautiful, -sorrowing Queen to console; spurs to be won and a fortune to be made! - -'And, by Heaven, Messire!' he exclaimed lightly, 'The God of Love -shall favour me. Your ward is exquisite and I am very susceptible. -What are two weeks? 'Tis but two seconds a man requires for losing -his heart to a beautiful wench. And if the fickle god fails me,' he -added with a careless shrug of the shoulders, 'well, where's the -harm? After this--this romantic episode, shall we say?--Madame -Jacqueline will either be Duchesse d'Anjou et d'Alençon, a happy and -worshipped bride, or the Prince de Froidmont will disappear from her -ken as unobtrusively as he came. And you, Messeigneurs,' he -concluded lightly, 'will have to offer the sovereignty of the -Netherlands to one who is worthier than I.' - -Neither d'Inchy nor de Lalain appeared to have anything to say after -that. They were both looking moody--even forbidding--for the moment, -though they bowed their heads in humble respect before this prince -whose light-heartedness jarred upon their gravity. - -And here the matter ended for the nonce. Gilles took leave of his -stiff-necked hosts and returned to 'Les Trois Rois,' having declared -most solemnly that he must have time to prepare himself for so -strange a wooing. A masked wench; think on it! It changed the whole -aspect of the situation! A respite of four days was, however, all -that was respectfully but firmly granted to him for this preparation, -and Messire Gilles spent the next few hours in trying to devise some -means whereby he could outwit the Flemish lords and catch sight of -Madame Jacqueline ere he formally set out to woo her. Of a truth, -the dull-witted and stodgy Flemings whom _Monsieur_ affected to -despise, had not much to learn in the matter of finesse and diplomacy -from the wily Valois! This counter-stroke on their part was a real -slap-in-the-face to the arrogant prince who was condescending to an -alliance, of which every other reigning house in Europe would have -been proud. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -WHY MADAME JACQUELINE WAS SO LATE IN GETTING TO BED - - -I - -Old Nicolle, restless and cross, was fidgeting about the room, -fingering with fussy inconsequence the beautiful clothes which her -mistress had taken off half an hour ago preparatory to going to -bed--clothes of great value and of vast beauty, which had cost more -money to acquire than good Nicolle had ever handled in all her life. -There was the beautiful gown which Madame had worn this evening at -supper, fashioned of black satin and all slashed with white and -embroidered with pearls. There was the underdress of rich crimson -silk, worked with gold and silver braid; there were the stockings of -crimson silk, the high-pattened shoes of velvet, the delicately -wrought fan, the gloves of fine chamois skin, the wide collarette -edged with priceless lace. There was also the hideous monstrosity -called the farthingale--huge hoops constructed of whalebone and of -iron which, with the no less abominable corset of wood and steel, was -intended to beautify and to refine the outline of the female figure -and only succeeded in making it look ludicrous and ungainly. There -were, in fact, the numberless and costly accessories which go to the -completion of a wealthy lady's toilet. - -Madame had divested herself of them all and had allowed Nicolle to -wrap a woollen petticoat round her slender hips and to throw a shawl -over her shoulders. Then, with her fair hair hanging in heavy masses -down her back, she had curled herself up in the high-backed chair -beside the open window--the open window, an it please you! and the -evening, though mild, still one of early March! Old Nicolle had -mumbled and grumbled. It was ten o' the clock and long past bedtime. -For awhile she had idled away the hour by fingering the exquisite -satin of the gown which lay in all its rich glory upon the carved -dowry chest. Nicolle loved all these things. She loved to see her -young mistress decked out in all the finery which could possibly be -heaped up on a girlish and slender body. She never thought the silks -and satins heavy when Jacqueline wore them; she never thought the -farthingale unsightly when Jacqueline's dainty bust and shoulders -emerged above it like the handle of a huge bell. - -But gradually her patience wore out. She was sleepy, was poor old -Nicolle! And Madame still sat squatting in the tall chair by the -open window, doing nothing apparently save to gaze over the courtyard -wall to the distance beyond, where the graceful steeple of St. Géry -stood outlined like delicate lace-work against the evening sky. - -''Tis time Madame got to bed,' reiterated the old woman for the -twentieth time. 'The cathedral tower hath chimed the quarter now. -Whoever heard of young people not being abed at this hour! And -Madame sitting there,' she added, muttering to herself, 'not clothed -enough to look decent!' - -Jacqueline de Broyart looked round to old Nicolle with amusement -dancing in her merry blue eyes. - -'Not decent?' she exclaimed with a laugh. 'Why, my dear Colle, -nobody sees me but you!' - -'People passing across the courtyard might catch sight of Madame,' -said Nicolle crossly. - -'People?' retorted Jacqueline gaily. 'What people?' - -'Monseigneur had company to-night.' - -'They all went away an hour ago.' - -'Then there are the varlets and maids----' - -'E'en so,' rejoined Jacqueline lightly, 'my attire, meseems, is not -lacking in modesty. I am muffled up to my nose in a shawl and---- -Oh!' she added with a quick sigh of impatience, 'I am so comfortable -in this soft woollen petticoat. I feel like a human being in it and -not like a cathedral bell. How I wish my guardian would not insist -on my wearing all these modish clothes from Paris! I was so much -more comfortable when I could don what I most fancied.' - -'Monseigneur le Baron d'Inchy,' said Nicolle sententiously, 'knows -what is due to your rank, Madame, and to your wealth.' - -'Oh! a murrain upon my rank and upon my wealth!' cried the young girl -hotly. 'My dear mother rendered me a great disservice when she bare -me to this world. She should have deputed some simple, comfortable -soul for the work, who could have let me roam freely about the town -when I liked, run about the streets barefooted, with a short woollen -kirtle tied round my waist and my hair flying loose about my -shoulders. I could have been so happy as a humble burgher's daughter -or a peasant wench. I do so loathe all the stiffness and the -ceremony and the starched ruffles and high-heeled shoes. What I want -is to be free--free!--Oh!----' - -And Jacqueline de Broyart stretched out her arms and sighed again, -half-longingly, half-impatiently. - -'You want to be free, Madame,' muttered old Nicolle through her -toothless gums, 'so that you might go and meet that masked gallant -who has been haunting the street with his music of late. You never -used to sigh like this after freedom and ugly gowns before he -appeared upon the scene.' - -'Don't scold, old Colle!' pleaded the girl softly. And now her arms -were stretched towards the old waiting-woman. - -Nicolle resisted the blandishment. She was really cross just now. -She turned her back resolutely upon the lovely pleader, avoiding to -look into those luminous blue eyes, which had so oft been compared by -amorous swains to the wild hyacinths that grow in the woods above -Marcoing. - -'Come and kiss me, Colle,' whispered the young charmer, 'I feel so -lonely somehow to-night. I feel as if--as if----' - -And the young voice broke in a quaint little gasp which was almost -like a sob. - -In a moment Nicolle--both forgiving and repentant--was kneeling -beside the high-backed chair, and with loving, wrinkled hands holding -a delicate lace handkerchief, she wiped the tears which had gathered -on Jacqueline's long, dark lashes. - -'My precious lamb, my dove, my little cabbage!' she murmured -lovingly. 'What ails thee? Why dost thou cry? Surely, my pigeon, -thou hast no cause to be tearful. All the world is at thy feet; -every one loves thee, and M. de Landas--surely the finest gentleman -that ever walked the earth!--simply worships the ground thy little -foot treads on. And--and'--added the old woman pitiably--'thy old -Colle would allow herself to be cut into a thousand pieces if it -would please thee.' - -Whereupon Jacqueline broke into a sudden, gay and rippling laugh, -even though the tears still glistened on her lashes. - -'I shouldn't at all enjoy,' she said lightly, 'seeing my dear old -Colle cut into a thousand pieces.' - -'Then what is it, my beloved?' - -Jacqueline made no reply. For a few seconds she remained quite -silent, her eyes fixed into nothingness above old Colle's head. One -would almost have thought that she was listening to something which -the old woman could not hear, for the expression on her face was -curiously tense, with eyes glowing and lips parted, while the poise -of her girlish figure was almost rigidly still. The flame of the wax -candles in the tall sconces flickered gently in the draught, for the -casement-window was wide open and a soft breeze blew in from the west. - -'Come, my cabbage,' pleaded Nicolle as she struggled painfully to her -feet. 'Come and let thy old Colle put thee to bed. Thou must be -tired after that long supper party and listening to so much talking -and music. And to-morrow yet another banquet awaits thee. -Monseigneur hath already desired thy presence----' - -'I don't want to go to another banquet to-morrow, Colle,' sighed the -young girl dolefully. 'And I am sick of company and of scrapings and -bowings and kissing of hands--stupid flummery wherewith men regale me -because I am rich and because they think that I am a brainless -nincompoop. I would far rather have supper quietly in my room every -night--quite alone----' - -But old Colle evidently thought that she knew better than that. -'Heu! heu!' she muttered with a shrug of the shoulders, accompanied -by a knowing wink. 'What chance wouldst thou have then of seeing M. -de Landas?' - -'I hardly can speak with M. de Landas during those interminable -banquets,' rejoined Jacqueline with a sigh. 'My guardian or else M. -de Lalain always seem in the way now whenever he tries to come nigh -me.' - -'I'll warrant though that M. de Landas knows how to circumvent -Monseigneur,' riposted the old woman slyly. Like so many of her sex -who have had little or no romance in a dull and monotonous life, -there was nothing that old Colle enjoyed more than to help forward a -love intrigue or a love adventure. M. de Landas she had, as it were, -taken under her special protection. He was very handsome and liberal -with money, and in his love-making he had all the ardour of his -Southern blood, all of which attributes vastly appealed to old Colle. -The fact that Monseigneur le Baron d'Inchy did not altogether favour -the young man's suit--especially of late--lent additional zest to -Nicolle's championship of his claims. - -'Even so,' said Jacqueline with sudden irrelevance, 'there are -moments when one likes to be alone. There is so much to think -about--to dream of----' - -'I know, I know,' murmured the old woman crossly. 'Thy desire is to -sit here half the evening now by the open window, and catch a deathly -ague while listening to that impudent minstrel who dares to serenade -so great a lady.' - -She went on muttering and grumbling and fidgeting about the room, -unmindful of the fact that at her words Jacqueline had suddenly -jumped to her feet; eyes blazing, small fists clenched, cheeks -crimson, she suddenly faced the garrulous old woman. - -'Nicolle, be silent!' she commanded. 'At once! Dost hear?' - -'Silent? Silent?' grumbled the woman. 'I have been silent quite -long enough, and if Monseigneur were to hear of these doings 'tis old -Nicolle who would get the blame. As for M. de Landas, I do verily -believe that he would run his sword right through the body of the -rogue for his impudence! I know.... I know,' she added, with a tone -of spite in her gruff voice. 'But let me tell thee that if that -rascally singer dares to raise his voice again to-night----' - -She paused, a little frightened at the fierce wrath which literally -blazed out of her mistress's eyes. - -'Well?' said Jacqueline peremptorily, but in a very husky voice. -'Why dost thou not finish? What will happen if the minstrel, whose -singing hath given me exquisite joy these three nights past, were to -raise his heavenly voice again?' - -'Pierre will make it unpleasant for him, that's all!' replied the old -woman curtly. - -'Pierre?' - -'Yes; Pierre! M. de Landas' serving-man. I told him to be on the -look-out, outside the postern gate, and--well!--Pierre has a strong -fist and a heavy staff, and...' - -In a moment Jacqueline was by Nicolle's side. She seized the old -woman by the wrist so that poor Colle cried out with pain, and it was -as the very living image of a goddess of wrath that the young girl -now confronted her terrified serving-maid. - -'Thou hast dared to do that, Nicolle?' she demanded in a choked and -quivering voice. 'Thou wicked, interfering old hag! I hate thee!' -she went on remorselessly, not heeding the looks of terror and of -abject repentance wherewith Colle received this floodgate of -vituperation. 'I hate thee, dost hear? And if Pierre doth but dare -to lay hands on that exquisite singer I'll ask M. de Landas to have -him flogged--yes, flogged! And I'll never wish to see thy face -again--thou wicked, wicked Colle!' - -Mastered by her own emotion and her passionate resentment, Jacqueline -sank back into a chair, her voice broken with sobs, and tears of -genuine rage streaming down her cheeks. Nicolle, quite bewildered, -had stood perfectly still, paralysed in fact, whilst this storm of -wrathful indignation burst over her devoted head. In spite of her -terror and of her remorse, there had lingered round her wrinkled lips -a line or two of mulish obstinacy. The matter of the unknown singer, -who had not only ventured to serenade the great and noble Dame -Jacqueline, Duchesse et Princesse de Ramèse and of several other -places, just as if she were some common burgher's wench with a none -too spotless reputation, had not ended with a song or two: no! the -malapert had actually been impudent enough last night to scale the -courtyard wall and to stand for over half an hour just below Madame's -window (how he knew which was Madame's window Satan, his accomplice, -alone could tell!) singing away to the accompaniment of a twangy -lute, which she--Nicolle--for one, could never abide. - -Fortunately, on that occasion Madame Jacqueline had been both modest -and discreet. She had kept well within the room and even retired -into the alcove, well out of sight of that abominable rascal; but she -would not allow Colle to close the window and had been very angry -indeed when the old woman with a few gruff and peremptory words had -presently sent the malapert away. - -That was yesterday. And now this outburst of rage! It was -unbelievable! Madame Jacqueline of a truth was hot-tempered and -passionate--how could she help being otherwise, seeing that she had -been indulged and adulated ever since, poor mite of three, she had -lost both father and mother and had been under the guardianship of -Monseigneur d'Inchy and of half a dozen other gentlemen. Never, -however, had Colle seen her quite like this, and for such a worthless -cause! Colle could scarce credit her eyes and ears. And alas! there -was no mistaking the flood of heartrending weeping which followed. -Jacqueline sat huddled up in her chair, her face buried in her hands, -sobbing and weeping as if her heart would break. - - -II - -All the obstinacy in the worthy old soul melted away in an instant, -giving place to heartrending remorse. She fell on her knees, she -took the small feet of her adored mistress in her hands and kissed -them and wept over them and cried and lamented tearfully. - -'Lord God, what have I done?' she called out from the depths of her -misery. 'My dove, my cabbage! Look at me--look at thy old Colle! -Dost not know that I would far sooner bite my tongue out than say one -word that would offend thee? My lamb, wilt not look at Colle?--I -vow--I swear that I'll die here on the spot at thy feet, if thou'lt -not smile on me!' - -Gradually as the old woman wept and pleaded, Jacqueline became more -calm. The sobs no longer shook her shoulders, but she still kept her -face hidden in her hands. A few minutes went by. Colle had buried -her old head in the young girl's lap, and after a while Jacqueline, -regally condescending to forgive, allowed her hand to fall on the -bowed head of the repentant sinner. - -'I'll only forgive thee, Colle,' she said with solemn earnestness, -'if Pierre doth not lay a finger upon that heavenly singer--but, if -he does----' - -Colle struggled to her feet as quickly as her stiff joints would -allow. - -'I'll go and find the varlet myself,' she said fiercely, ready to -betray with cowardly baseness the confederate of awhile ago, now that -she had propitiated the mistress whom she adored. 'M. de Landas hath -not yet left the Palace, and if Pierre dares but raise his hand -against that mal--hem!--against the noble singer whom thou dost -honour with thine attention, well! he'll have to reckon with old -Colle; that is all!' - -With Jacqueline de Broyart--who in herself appeared the very -embodiment of spring, so full of youth, of grace and of vitality was -she--sunshine and storm came in rapid succession over her moods, just -as they do over the skies when the year is young. Already her eyes, -bathed in tears of rage awhile ago, were glistening with pleasure, -and her lips, which had pouted and stormed, were parted in a smile. - -'Go, Colle!' she said eagerly. 'Go at once, ere it be too late and -that fool Pierre----' - -The words died upon her lips. The next instant she had jumped down -from her chair and run to the window. From some distance down the -street there had come, suddenly wafted upon the wings of the wind, -the sound of a voice singing the well-known verses of Messire de -Ronsard: - - 'Mignonne, allons voir si la rose - Qui ce matin avait desclose - Sa robe de pourpre au soleil - A point perdu cette vesprée - Les plis de sa robe pourprée - Et son teint au vostre pareil.'[1] - - -[1] 'Mignonne, come see if the rose - That this morning did unclose - Her purple robe to the sun - Hath not ere this evening lost - Of those purple petals most - And the tint with your tint one.' - -(Translation by Mr. Percy Allen. _Songs of Old France_.) - - -Jacqueline knelt upon the window-seat, but she could see nothing, so -she turned back piteously to murmur to old Colle: 'Oh! if I could -only see him!' - -The old woman, after the experience of the past few minutes, was -ready to do anything, however abject, to further her mistress' desire. - -'Put on thy mask, my pigeon,' she said, 'and then lean well out of -the window; but not too far, for fear M. de Landas should happen to -be passing in the courtyard and should see thee with thy hair down. -No, no!' added the old hypocrite obsequiously, 'there is no harm in -listening to so sweet a singer. I'll get thy purse, too, and thou -canst throw him a coin or two. No doubt the poor fellow is -down-at-heels and only sings to earn his supper.' - -And humble, fussy, still snivelling, Nicolle shuffled across the -room, found the satin mask and brought it to her mistress. -Jacqueline fixed it over her face; then she leaned as far out of the -window as she dared to do without fear of falling out. And, if M. de -Landas saw her, why! he would be so gladdened at the sight that he -would have no ear for a mere street musician, whilst -she--Jacqueline--was just now in so soft a mood that if M. de Landas -happened to scale the wall to her casement-window--as he had more -than once threatened to do--she would return his kisses in a way that -she had never done before. - -For she was deeply in love with M. de Landas, had been for years. -She had plighted her troth to him when she was a mere child, and she -loved him--oh yes! she loved him very, very much, only... - - -III - -There was the width of the courtyard and the tall wall between -Jacqueline and the street where stood the singer whom she so longed -to see. She had caught sight of him yesterday when, to Nicolle's -horror, he had boldly scaled the wall and then had lingered for nigh -on half an hour beneath her window, singing one merry song after -another, till her young heart had been filled with a new joy, the -cause of which she herself could not quite comprehend. - -She had watched him unseen, fearful lest some of the serving-men -should see him and drive him away. Fortunately Chance had been all -in favour of her new romance. M. de Landas was on duty at the Forts -that night; her guardian was still closeted with some other grave -seigneurs, and the serving-men were no doubt too busy to trouble -about a harmless minstrel. As for the wenches about the place, they -had stood about in the doorways, listening with delight at the -impassioned songs and gaping in admiration at the splendid bearing of -the unknown cavalier. - -Thus the singer had stood in the courtyard for some considerable -time, his martial figure silhouetted against the clear, moonlit sky, -his voice rising and falling in perfect cadence to the accompaniment -of a soft-toned lute, whilst Jacqueline, hidden within the shadow of -the window-embrasure, listened spellbound, her whole youth, her -ardent, loving soul exultant at this romance which was taking birth -at her feet. - -And now he had come back, and the very night seemed to bid him -welcome. It was still quite early in March, yet the air was soft as -spring. All day the birds had been twittering under the eaves, and -on the west wind had come wafted gently the scent of budding almond -blossom and of the life-giving sap in the branches of the trees. - -The stately city with its towers and steeples and cupolas lay bathed -in the light of the honey-coloured moon. Far away on the right, the -elegant church of Saint Géry up on the Mont-des-Boeufs seemed like a -bar of silver which attached old Cambray to the star-studded -firmament above, and around it were grouped the tall steeples of St. -Martin, St. Waast and St. Aubert, with the fine hexagon of Martin et -Martine which crowned the Town Hall; whilst, dominating this forest -of perfect and rich architecture, was the mass of the cathedral close -by, with its tall pointed steeple, its flying buttresses, its -numberless delicate pinnacles picked out as by a fairy hand against -the background of deep azure. - -But Jacqueline de Broyart had for the nonce no eyes for all that -beauty. What cared she if the wintry moon outlined all these lovely -heights with delicate lines of silver? What cared she if the shadows -of stately edifices appeared full of a golden glow by contrast with -the cold blue of the lights? Her eyes were fixed, not on the tower -of St. Géry nor on the steeple of Notre Dame: they rested upon that -high and cruel wall which hid the unknown singer from her sight. - -'Mignonne!' he sang out gaily. 'Allons voir la rose----' - -'Oh!' sighed Jacqueline with passionate longing. 'If I only -could----!' - -And her fancy went soaring into a world of romance--a world far away -from the sordid strifes, the political intrigues, the quarrels of -to-day; a world wherein men were all handsome and brave and women -were all free to grant them their hand to kiss, to listen to their -songs, to reward their prowess, to receive their homage unfettered by -convention--a world, in fact, such as Messire de Froissart had -chronicled and of which Messire Villon had sung so exquisitely. - -Then suddenly Jacqueline's dreams were rudely interrupted, as was -also the song of the unseen minstrel. Loud voices were raised and -there was a clash which made Jacqueline's very heart turn cold in her -bosom. - -'Colle!' she cried excitedly. - -But Colle had shuffled out of the room some little while ago, in -search of Pierre, no doubt, whom evidently she had failed to find. -And out there behind that cruel wall the rough hands of that -abominable varlet were being laid on the precious person of the -unsuspecting minstrel. Jacqueline felt literally paralysed both with -terror and with wrath. Colle had spoken of Pierre's stout arm and -still stouter stick, but there was also the possibility of M. de -Landas himself being about, and then--oh, then! ... Ye heavens above! -anything might happen! ... Oh! the wicked, wicked old woman and that -execrable Pierre! ... and ... and of course M. de Landas' jealousy -was sometimes terrifying! - -'God in Heaven!' sighed Jacqueline. 'I entreat Thee to protect him!' - -The noise of the scuffle in the street became louder and louder. -There were cries of rage as well as of pain. Blows were evidently -raining freely--on whom? My God, on whom? Then, from further up the -street, came the sound of running footsteps as well as the stern -voice of the night watchmen hurrying to the scene. Jacqueline would -have bartered some years of her life to see what was going on the -other side of the wall. Only a minute or two had gone by: to the -young girl it had seemed like hours of suspense. And now these -people all rushing along, no doubt in order to give a hand to -Pierre--to fall on the unarmed minstrel--to lay hands upon him--to -belabour him with sticks--to wound or hurt him--to---- - -Jacqueline uttered a loud cry of horror. It was the echo of one of -terror, of pain and of rage which came from the other side of the -wall. The next moment a dark mass appeared over the top of the wall, -silhouetted against the moonlit sky. To Jacqueline's straining eyes -it seemed like the body of a man which, for the space of a brief -second, seemed to hover in mid air and then fell with a dull thud -upon the paving-stones of the courtyard below. - -Jacqueline closed her eyes. She felt sick and faint. To her ears -now came the sound of loud groans and vigorous curses. And then--oh, -then!--loud laughter and the last bar of the interrupted song--a -sound indeed which caused her at once to open her eyes again; -whereupon she, too, could have laughed and sung for joy. The inert -mass still lay in a heap at the foot of the wall; Jacqueline could -vaguely discern its outline in the gloom, whilst up on the top of the -wall, astride, hatless, lute in hand, sat the masked minstrel with -his head turned gazing toward her window. - -She clapped her hands with glee, and he, with a loud cry of -'Mignonne!' swung himself down from the wall and ran across the -courtyard until he came to a halt just beneath her window, and even -in the dim light of this wintry moon Jacqueline thought that she -could see his eyes glowing through the holes in the mask. - -It was all so joyous, so gay, so romantic; so different--ah! so very, -very different--to the dreary monotony of Jacqueline's daily -existence! This masked and unknown minstrel! His daring, his -prowess, aye! his very impudence, which laughed at high walls and -defied an army of varlets! There was Pierre moaning and groaning, -disarmed and helpless, having been tossed over the wall just as if he -were a bale of cumbersome goods! Serve him right well, too, for -having dared to measure his valour against that of so proud a -cavalier! Pierre was not hurt--oh, Jacqueline was quite sure that he -was not hurt! Nothing, nothing whatever, was going to be wrong on -this lovely, glorious evening! No! Pierre would soon be healed of -his wounds; but it was ludicrous to see him stretched out just there, -where he thought he could lay the noble singer low! - -'Mignonne, allons voir si la rose,' sang the mysterious minstrel; and -Jacqueline's young heart, which was filled with the joy of romance, -the exquisite rapture of ideals, suddenly ached with a passionate -longing for--for what? She did not know. She had had so many things -in life: riches, beauty, adulation, aye! and the love of a man whom -she loved in return. But now it seemed to her as if, in spite of all -that, in spite of M. de Landas and his love, she had really lacked -something all the time--something that was both undefinable and -mystic and yet was intensely and vividly real, something that would -fill her life, that would satisfy her soul and gladden her heart, in -a way that M. de Landas' love, his passionate kisses, had never -succeeded in doing hitherto. - -And somehow all this longing, all this thirst for a still-unknown -happiness, seemed personified in the singer with the tall, broad -stature and the mellow voice; it was embodied in the honey-coloured -moon, in the glints of silver and gold upon the steeples of Cambray, -in the scent of the spring and the murmurs of the breeze. Jacqueline -pressed her hands against her heart. She was so happy that she could -have cried. - -Beside her on the window-sill stood a tall vase fashioned of Dutch -clay. It was filled with tall-stemmed Madonna lilies, which had been -produced at great cost in the hot-houses belonging to her own estate -in Hainault. Their powerful scent had filled the room with its -fragrance. Without thought or hesitation, Jacqueline suddenly pulled -the sheaf out of the vase and gathered the flowers in her arms. The -tender, juicy stems were wet and she took her embroidered -handkerchief out of her pocket and wrapped it round them; then she -flung the whole sheaf of lilies out of the window and watched to see -them fall, bruised and sweet-smelling, at the minstrel's feet. - -Then, half-ashamed, laughing a little hysterically, but thoroughly -happy and excited, she drew quickly back into the room and hastily -closed the casement. - - -IV - -When, ten minutes or so later, Nicolle came back, shame-faced, -remorseful and not a little frightened, she was surprised and -delighted to find her young mistress sitting quite composedly in a -high-backed chair in the centre of the room, the window closed, and -the lady herself quite eager to go to bed. - -'Thou hast been gone a long time, Colle,' said the young girl -carelessly. 'Where hast thou been?' - -Old Colle sighed with relief. The Lord be praised! Madame had -evidently seen and heard nothing of that vulgar scuffle which had -ended in such disaster for poor Pierre, and in such a triumph for the -impudent rascal who had since disappeared just as quickly as he came. - -'I just went round to see that those wenches were all abed and that -their lights were safely out,' replied the old woman with brazen -hypocrisy. - -'And didst speak to Pierre on the way?' queried Jacqueline, who had -assumed the quaintest possible air of simple ingenuousness. - -'Aye!' replied the old woman dryly. 'I spoke to Pierre.' - -'What did he say?' - -'Nothing of importance. We talked of to-morrow's banquet.' - -'To-morrow's banquet?' - -'Do not feign surprise, my pigeon,' rejoined old Colle, who was -decidedly out of humour. 'I even asked thee to-night, before taking -off thy gown, if thou wouldst wear that one or another on the morrow.' - -'I remember,' replied Jacqueline with a yawn, 'I said that I did not -care what I wore, as I hated banquets, and company and bowings -and----' - -'But Monseigneur said that the banquet to-morrow would be for a -special occasion.' - -'When did he say that?' - -'A moment or two ago--to Pierre.' - -'And what will the special occasion be to-morrow?' - -Nicolle looked mysterious. - -'Maybe,' she said, 'that it is not altogether unconnected with -Monseigneur de Landas.' - -'Why with him?' asked Jacqueline eagerly. - -'Oh! I am only putting two and two together, my cabbage,' replied -old Colle with a sly wink. 'There is talk of distinguished guests in -Cambray, of betrothals, and ... and ... - -'Betrothals?' - -'Why, yes. Thou art nearly twenty, my pigeon, and Monseigneur, thy -guardian, will have to make up his mind that thou wilt marry sooner -or later. I always thought that he did favour Monseigneur de Landas, -until----' - -'Until what?' queried Jacqueline impatiently. - -'There are so many rumours in the air,' replied Colle sententiously. -'Some talk of the Duc d'Anjou, who is own brother to the King of -France.' - -Jacqueline made a little moue of disdain. - -'Oh! _Monsieur_!' she said carelessly. - -'A very great and noble prince, my pigeon.' - -'I am tired of great and noble princes.' - -'But Monseigneur, the Duc d'Anjou...' - -'Is one of the many, I suppose, who want my fortune, my family -connexions, the Sovereignty of the Netherlands. Bah!' she added with -an impatient sigh. 'They sicken me!' - -'A great lady, my cabbage,' said Nicolle solemnly, 'cannot follow the -dictates of her heart like a common wench.' - -'Why!' exclaimed Jacqueline. 'Methought thou wast all for M. de -Landas!' - -'So I am, my pigeon, so I am!' rejoined the old woman. 'He is a very -distinguished gentleman, who loves thee ardently. But if there's one -who is own brother to the King of France....' And old Colle gave an -unctuous sigh when she spoke the exalted name. - -'Bah!' retorted Jacqueline with a careless shrug of the shoulders. -'There are others too! And no one can force me into a marriage -whilst my heart is pledged to M. de Landas.' - -'No, no! Thank God for that!' assented Colle piously. 'As for the -others ... well! their name is legion ... some of them will be at the -banquet to-morrow.... There is the Marquis de Hancourt, a -fine-looking youth, and that horrid German prince whom I cannot -abide! The English lord hath gone away, so they say, broken-hearted -at thy refusal; but there's the Spanish duke, whose name I cannot -remember, and Don José, own son to the Emperor.... As for that -stranger----' she added with a contemptuous shrug of the shoulders. - -'The stranger?' queried Jacqueline lazily. 'What stranger? - -'Well, I don't know much about him. But Pierre, feeling crestfallen, -did admit that Monseigneur chided him severely for having shown a -want of respect to a gentleman who ought to have known better than to -pretend to be a street musician.' - -But Jacqueline appeared all of a sudden to have lost interest in the -conversation. 'Ah!' she said with well-assumed indifference, 'then -the street musician of awhile ago was a gentleman in disguise?' - -'Aye! so Pierre said--the fool!' quoth old Colle unblushingly. -'Monseigneur was very angry with him when he heard of the altercation -with the singer, threatened to speak of the matter to M. de Landas -and have Pierre flogged or dismissed for his interference. Then he -hinted that the stranger, far from being a street musician, was a -foreign seigneur of high degree, even if of scanty fortune.' - -'Oh!' commented Jacqueline carelessly. - -'And he e'en ordered Pierre to go and apologize most humbly to the -stranger, who it seems is lodging in a very poor hostelry known as -"Les Trois Rois," just close to the Porte Notre Dame.' - -Jacqueline ostentatiously smothered a yawn. - -'I think I'll go to bed now, Colle,' she said. - -But Colle's tongue, once loosened, could not so easily be checked. - -'Town gossip,' she went on with great volubility, 'has been busy with -that stranger for the past two days. 'Tis said that he is styled -Monseigneur le Prince de Froidmont; though what a prince should be -doing in a shabby hostel in that squalid quarter of the city I, for -one, do not know--nor why he should be going about masked and cloaked -through the city in the guise of a vagabond.' - -'Perhaps the vagabond is no prince after all,' suggested Jacqueline. - -'That's what I say,' asserted Colle triumphantly. 'And that's what -Pierre thought until Monseigneur told him that if he did not go at -once and offer his humble apologies he surely would get a flogging, -seeing that the Prince de Froidmont would actually be a guest at the -banquet to-morrow, and would of a certainty complain to M. de Landas.' - -'A guest at the banquet!' exclaimed Jacqueline involuntarily.' - -'Aye!' assented Colle. 'Didst ever hear the like! But he must be a -distinguished seigneur for all that, or Monseigneur would not bid him -come.' - -'No, I suppose not,' said Jacqueline with perfect indifference. 'The -Prince de Froidmont?' she added with a little yawn. 'Is that his -name?' - -'So the town gossips say,' replied Colle, who was busy just then in -wrapping the bed-gown round her young mistress's shoulders. - -'And he comes to the banquet to-morrow?' - -'So Monseigneur said to Pierre.' - -Jacqueline said nothing more for the moment, appeared to have lost -all interest in the masked musician and in Pierre's misdeeds. She -stretched out her arms lazily while vigorous old Colle picked her up -as if she were a baby and carried her--as she was wont to do every -night--to her bed. - -She laid her down upon the soft feather mattress and spread the fine -coverlets over her. The alcove wherein stood the monumental bedstead -was in semi-darkness, for the light from the wax candles in the -sconces about the room failed to penetrate into the recess. But that -semi-darkness was restful, and for awhile Jacqueline lay back against -the pillows, with eyes closed, in a state of that complete well-being -which is one of the monopolies of youth. Nicolle, thinking that -Madame would be dropping off to sleep, made a movement to go; but -Jacqueline's small white hand had hold of the old woman's bony -fingers, and old Colle, abjectly happy at feeling the pressure, -remained quite still, waiting and watching, gazing with doglike -devotion on the lovely face--lovely in repose as it was when the -light of gaiety and roguishness danced in the blue eyes. - -After a few minutes of this silent beatitude, Jacqueline opened her -eyes and said in a dreamy voice, half-asleep: - -'Tell me, Colle, which is my prettiest gown?' - -And Nicolle--herself more than half-way to the land of Nod--roused -herself in order to reply: 'The white one with the pearls, my pigeon.' - -She was sufficiently awake to feel quite happy at the thought that -Madame was suddenly taking an interest in her clothes, and continued -eagerly: 'It hath an underdress of that lovely new green colour which -hath become the mode of late, and all embroidered with silver. -Nothing more beautiful hath ever been fashioned by tailors' art, and -in it Madame looks just like an exquisite white lily, with the -delicate green stem below.' - -'Well then, Colle,' rejoined Jacqueline dreamily, 'to-morrow evening -I will wear my white satin gown with the pearls and the underdress of -green and silver, and Mathurine must study a new way of doing my hair -with the pointed coif which they say is so modish now in France. I -will wear my stockings of crimson silk and my velvet shoes, and round -my neck I'll wear the ropes of pearls which my dear mother did -bequeath to me; in my ears I'll have the emerald earrings, and I'll -wear the emerald ring upon my finger. I wish I had not that ugly -mole upon my left cheek-bone, for then I could have had one of those -tiny patches of black taffeta which are said to be so becoming to the -complexion....' - -She paused, and added with quaint wistfulness: 'Think you, Colle, -that I shall look handsome?' - -'As lovely as a picture, my dear one,' said Nicolle with enthusiasm. -'As exquisite as a lily; fit only to be the bride of a King.' - -Jacqueline gave a quick sigh of satisfaction, after which she allowed -Colle to give her a kiss and to bid her a final 'good night.' - -And even as she fell gradually into the delicious and dreamless sleep -of youth, her lips murmured softly: 'I wonder!' - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -WHAT BECAME OF THE LILIES - - -I - -Gilles had spent four days at the hostelry of 'Les Trois Rois,' and -here he would have liked to remain indefinitely and to continue the -sentimental romance so happily begun beneath the casement-windows of -the Archiepiscopal Palace. With the light-heartedness peculiar to -most soldiers of fortune, he had during those four days succeeded in -putting his rôle out of his mind. Though he had not yet caught sight -of Madame's face at her window, he quite thought that he would do so -in time, and already he had received more than one indication that -his singing was not unwelcome. The casement had been deliberately -thrown open when he had scaled the courtyard wall, and had resumed -his song immediately beneath the window which he had ascertained -belonged to Madame's private apartment. He had felt, even though he -did not actually see, that some one was listening to him from up -there, for once he had perceived a shadow upon the casement curtain, -and once a hand, small and delicate, had rested upon the window-sill. -Gilles would have continued this wooing--aye! perhaps have brought it -to a happy conclusion, he thought--without being forced to assume -another personality than his own: a thing which became more and more -abhorrent to Messire Gilles' temper, now that the time for starting -the masquerade in earnest was drawing nigh. - -'We could make ourselves very happy here, honest Jehan,' he had said -to the faithful companion of his many adventures. 'Waited on by that -silent and zealous youth, who of a truth looks like the very ghost of -silence and discretion. With judicious economy, the money which a -gracious Queen hath placed in our hands would last us a year. It -seems a pity to fritter it all away in a few weeks by playing a rôle -which is detestable and unworthy.' - -'B-b-b-but----' stammered old Jehan. - -'You are quite right,' broke in Gilles gravely. 'Your argument is -very sound. The money, my friend, was given unto us in order to play -a certain rôle, and that rôle we must now play whether we like it or -not, on pain of being branded as vagabonds and thieves.' - -'V-v-v-very----' stammered poor Jehan. - -'As you say,' remarked Gilles dryly, 'I have always found you of good -counsel, my friend. Very likely--that is what you would say, is it -not?--very likely, unless we played our parts as Madame la Reyne de -Navarre did direct, Monseigneur le Baron d'Inchy would discover the -fraud and have us both hanged for our pains. And if the hangman did -happen to miss us, Madame Marguerite would certainly see to it that a -gibbet was ready for us somewhere in France. So for this once, I -think, mine honest Jehan, we must take it that honesty will be the -best policy.' - -'O-o-o-only th-th-th-that----' - -'Quite so!' assented Gilles, 'only that in this case we cannot -contrive to remain honest without being dishonest, which is a -proposition that doth gravely disturb my mind.' - -'Th-th-th-the o-o-o-only----' - -'Hold your tongue, friend Jehan,' broke in Gilles impatiently. -'Verily, you talk a great deal too much!' - - -II - -And now, at the very close of the fourth day, Messire Gilles made -noisy irruption into the tiny room which he occupied in the hostelry -of 'Les Trois Rois.' Maître Jehan--after the stormy episode outside -the postern gate wherein he had taken part--was in the room, waiting -for his master. - -Gilles was in the rarest of good humour. As soon as he had closed -the door behind him, he threw his plumed toque and the lute upon the -table and, sitting down on the narrow paillasse which was his bed, he -fell to contemplating a bunch of white lilies which he had in his -hand. The stems of these lilies were carefully wrapped in an -embroidered handkerchief, but they hung their bruised, if still -fragrant, heads in a very doleful manner. - -Gilles laughed softly to himself. Then he held the flowers out at -arm's length and called out gaily to Jehan: - -'Congratulate me, honest Jehan!' he said. 'The first act of our -adventurous comedy is over. The curtain has rung down on a veritable -triumph! I have received a token! ... I have captured the first -bastion in the citadel of the fair one's heart! Give me a week, and -I hold the entire fortress for and on behalf of _Monsieur_ Duc -d'Anjou, our august master!' - -'Th-th-th-then you h-h-h-have----' - -'No, I have not seen her, my good man. All that fine fight outside -the walls, the complete discomfiture of our assailants, my perilous -position inside the courtyard, from whence a reinforcement of varlets -might easily have put me to flight, did not win for me even a glimpse -of the lady. But her window was wide open this time, and I could see -her shadow flitting past the casement. Then suddenly these lilies -were flung at me. They were crushed and bruised against the pavement -as they fell; but they are a token, friend Jehan, and you cannot deny -it! Madame Jacqueline's heart is already touched by the song of the -unknown troubadour, and he hath but to present himself before her to -be graciously received.' - -'B-b-b-b-but----' said Jehan with grave solemnity. - -'That's just it!' broke in Gilles with a laugh. 'You have a way, my -friend, of hitting the right nail on the head. As you say, the four -days' respite which have been granted to us have now expired, and we -have not yet seen the future Duchesse d'Anjou face to face.' - -'N-n-n-not yet! Th-th-th-that----' - -'That is the trouble, I grant you. There is that infernal -masquerade; and of a truth, I am more convinced than ever that the -reason why those noble mynheers are so determined that Madame shall -not show her face ere I have irrevocably committed myself--I--that -is, the Duc d'Anjou--that is---- Oh, my God!' he exclaimed. 'What a -tangle!! Well, as I was saying.... By the way, what was I saying -just now?' - -'Th-th-th-that----' - -'Of course! You incorrigible chatterbox! I would have explained my -meaning before now if you had not talked nineteen to the dozen all -the time! I mean that I have completely changed my mind, and that I -have become convinced that Madame Jacqueline is as ugly as sin, else -those wily Dutchmen would not be so anxious to cover up her face.' - -'Th-th-th-therefore----' asserted Jehan stoutly. - -'Therefore, my good man, good fortune is in our debt. She did not -favour me with a sight of the lady ere I meet her in my official -capacity. But Madame Jacqueline hath given me a token: she is -prepared to love me, and I am still in the dark as to whether she -squints or is pitted with pock-marks. A terrible position for any -man to be in!' he sighed dolefully, 'even though he is out a-courting -for a friend.' - -'B-b-b-but----' - -'You mean well, my friend,' quoth Gilles, who fell to contemplating -the bunch of faded lilies with a rueful expression of face. 'You -mean well, but you talk too much, and thus I am thrown on mine own -resources for counsel in an emergency. As for arguments! Why, you -would argue the devil's horns from off his head! Still,' he added, -as he finally flung the lilies away from him with a careless gesture -of indifference, 'still, in spite of what you say, I must stick to my -bargain. Those mulish mynheers will not grant us any further delay, -and to-morrow I am pledged to appear at the governor's banquet--yes, -even I!--_Monsieur_ Duc d'Anjou et d'Alençon, own brother to the King -of France, and you as my faithful servitor.' - -'N-n-n-not a m-m-minute t-t-too soon,' Maître Jehan managed to blurt -out quickly whilst Gilles had paused for breath. - -'Ah! there you are wrong, my friend,' retorted Gilles. 'For my -taste, the dénouement is coming along at far too rapid a pace. -To-morrow, already our troubles will begin--peace will know us no -more. I for one will never rightly know who I am; nor will I know -who it is who will know who I am not. Oh, my Lord!' he added in mock -despair, as he rested his elbows on his knees and buried his head in -his hands. 'My head will split ere I have done! Tell me, Jehan, who -I shall be to-morrow.' - -'T-t-t-to-morrow,' stammered Jehan with painful earnestness, -'you--you--you----you will b-b-b-b-be----' - -'Own brother to His Majesty the King of France,' said Gilles, 'and as -great blackguard as ever disgraced a Royal house. To Monseigneur the -governor, and maybe also to some of his friends, I shall be a Royal -prince. To others, and notably to Madame Jacqueline de Broyart, I -shall be the Prince de Froidmont--an insignificant and penniless -seigneur who only dares approach the far-famed heiress under cover of -a mask, having fallen desperately in love with her. Ah, Jehan! -Jehan!' he added with mock solemnity, 'thou art of a truth a lucky -devil! Thou canst keep thine own name, thine own rank, even thine -own ludicrous stutter: whereas I,--what shall I be? A mime! A -buffoon! And what's more, a fraudulent varlet, pledged to deceive an -innocent wench into the belief that her future lord is both -sentimental and amorous and can sing the love ditties writ by Messire -de Ronsard with passable tunefulness.... Ye gods, Jehan, hast ever -heard _Monsieur_ Duc d'Anjou--the real one, I mean--sing?' - -'N-n-n-no!' objected Jehan in pious horror, for he did not like to -hear so exalted a personage derided. - -'Then hast ever heard the barn-door rooster calling to his favourite -hen?' - -'S-s-s-s-sometimes!' - -'Well!' quoth Gilles lightly, 'so have I. And I prefer the barn-door -rooster! And now to bed, friend Jehan,' he added as he jumped to his -feet. 'To-morrow is the great day! Didst take my letter to the -governor's palace?' - -'I d-d-d-did.' - -'And didst see Monseigneur the governor himself?' - -Jehan nodded affirmatively. - -'Gave him my letter?' - -Another nod from Jehan. - -'Did he look pleased?' - -A shrug of the shoulders this time. - -'Said he would be honoured to see Monseigneur le Duc d'Alençon et -d'Anjou at the banquet to-morrow?' - -Once again a nod. - -'Then to bed, chatterbox!' concluded Gilles gaily, 'for to-morrow I -begin my career as a low, deceitful hound, fit only for the gibbet, -which I dare swear is already prepared for me!' - - -III - -Jehan helped his master to undress. He pulled off the heavy boots -and laid aside the cloth jerkin, the kerseymere trunks and worsted -hose. Then, when Messire Gilles lay stretched out upon the hard -paillasse, honest Jehan bade him a quiet good night and went off -carrying the guttering candle. For one candle had to do duty for two -customers, or even at times for three, at the hostel of 'Les Trois -Rois.' These were not days of luxurious caravanserai: eight square -feet of floor space, a tiny leaded window, a straw paillasse, perhaps -a table and a rickety chair, made up the sum total of a furnished -bedroom, if destined for a person of quality. Men like Maître Jehan -had to be content with the bare boards and a horse-blanket outside -their master's door, or behind a wooden partition set up inside the -latter's room. - -Jehan went off, then, with the candle, and Gilles de Crohin remained -in almost total darkness, for the light of the moon failed to -penetrate through the narrow aperture which went by the name of -window. For a long time Messire Gilles lay motionless, staring into -the gloom. Vague pictures seemed to flit before his gaze: the -unknown girl whom he was pledged to woo appeared and disappeared -before him, now walking across his line of vision with stately -dignity, now dancing a wild rigadoon like some unruly country wench; -but always, and with irritating persistence, wearing a mask which he -longed to drag away from her face. Then he saw pictures of fair -Marguerite of Navarre, imperious yet appealing, and of his own -cross-hilted sword, upon the sacred emblem of which he had pledged -himself to an ugly deception; Monsieur Duc d'Anjou, indolent and -vapid, dressed in that ludicrous green satin suit, came and mocked -him through the darkness. - -Gilles de Crohin, wearied with all these phantasmagoria, began -tossing restlessly upon his hard bed, and as he did so he flung his -arm out over the coverlet and his hand came in rough contact with the -floor. And there, close to his touch, was something soft and -velvety, the drooping, fading lilies which an unknown lady of high -degree had flung out to him and which he had so carelessly tossed -aside. His hand closed tightly upon the flowers, crushing the last -spark of life out of the fragrant blossoms, and even as he did -so--quite unconsciously and mechanically--an unpleasant pang of -remorse shot right through his heart. Was this unconscious act of -his a presage of the cruel rôle which he had set out to play? Would -the young soul of an innocent girl droop and wither beneath his -careless touch? - -Very gently now Gilles, turning on his side, gathered the flowers -together and drew them towards him. Something of their fragrance -still lingered in the bruised petals. Gilles got out of bed. His -eyes had become accustomed to the darkness, or perhaps something of -the radiance of the moonlit night had penetrated into the narrow -room. Gilles could see his way about, and he remembered that in the -further corner there had stood a pitcher filled with fresh water. -With infinite precaution he unwound the handkerchief from around the -stems and then dropped the flowers one by one into the pitcher. -After awhile he picked up the handkerchief. It was nothing now but a -damp and sodden little ball, but it smelt sweetly of lilies and of -lavender. Gilles marvelled if the lady's initials and coronet were -embroidered in the-corner. He felt with his fingers in order to make -sure; but he was too inexperienced in such matters to arrive at any -definite conclusion, so with a sudden impulse which he would not have -cared to analyse, he searched the darkness for his doublet, and -having found it he thrust the damp little rag into its breast-pocket. - -Then, with a laugh at his own folly and a light shrug of the -shoulders, he went back to bed. This time he fell at once into a -dreamless sleep. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -HOW MESSIRE GILLES WAS REMINDED OF A DREAM - -I - -In Maître C. Calviac's treatise on the manners and tone of good -society, which he published in the year 1560[1] for the guidance of -those who desired to frequent the company of the Great, we are told -that 'when we enter the presence of exalted personages, we must walk -on the tips of our toes, incline our body and make a profound -obeisance.' And further, Maître Calviac goes on to explain the many -different modes of saluting, which we might adopt for the occasion: -'Firstly,' he says, 'we can uncover our right hand, with it lower our -hat by stretching the arm down along our right thigh and leaving our -left hand free. Secondly, we can regard humbly and reverentially the -exalted one whom we desire to salute. Thirdly, we can lower our gaze -and advance our right foot whilst drawing the left one slightly back. -We can also take off the glove from our right hand, incline our body, -and after nearly touching the ground with our hand, carry our fingers -to our lips, as if in the act of imprinting a kiss upon their tips.' - - -[1] La Civile Honnêteté, par C. Calviac. Paris 1560. in-12. - - -Finally, our accomplished monitor tells us that the embrace is yet -another form of salute which cannot, however, be practised save -between persons of equal rank or those who are bound to one another -by ties of kinship or of especial friendship. In that case, the most -civil manner of thus saluting is for each to place the right hand on -the top of the other's shoulder and the left hand just below, and -then present the left cheek one to the other, without touching or -actually kissing the same. - -We may take it that Monseigneur le Baron d'Inchy, governor of the -province of Cambrésis, being an exalted personage himself and closely -connected by family ties with Madame Jacqueline de Broyart--whose -guardian and protector he was--did adopt the latter mode of -salutation when, at eight o'clock precisely of the following evening, -he presented himself before his young ward for the purpose of -conducting her to the State dining-room, where a banquet in honour of -several distinguished guests was already spread. We may take it, I -say, that Monseigneur the governor did take off his right-hand glove, -advance his right foot and walk on the tips of his toes; that he did -place one hand on Madame Jacqueline's shoulder, whilst she did the -same to him, and that they each presented the left cheek to one -another in accordance with the laws of propriety laid down by Maître -Calviac. - -Monseigneur was accompanied by a young man whose manners and -demeanour were even more punctilious and ceremonious than those of -his companion. The airs and graces wherewith he advanced in order to -greet Madame Jacqueline would have done honour to a Grand Master at -the Court of the Spanish King. And, indeed, many did aver that M. le -Marquis de Landas had Spanish blood in his veins, and that, though he -was a Netherlander by birth, and a Protestant by practise, he was a -Spaniard and a Papist by tradition--which fact did not tend to make -him popular in the Cambrésis, where the armies of Alexander Farnesse, -Duke of Parma, were already over-running the villages, rumour being -rife that they were about to threaten Cambray. - -'Twas well said of M. le Marquis de Landas that none knew better than -he how to turn a compliment. Perhaps that same strain of Spanish -blood in him had given him glibness of tongue and the languorous look -in the eyes which had rendered many a favoured lady proud. He was -known to be of exalted lineage but not endowed with fortune, -connected too with some of the noblest families both in Flanders and -in Spain, and had lately come to the Cambrésis as aide-de-camp to his -kinsman, the baron d'Inchy, who had promptly given him command of the -garrison of Cambray. - -So much for facts that were known. But there were rumours and -conjectures, not altogether false, it seems, that M. de Landas was a -suitor for Madame Jacqueline's hand--one of the many, of course; for -her hand was sought far and wide. She would bring a rich dowry as -her marriage portion to any man who was lucky enough to win her, and -also the influence of her Flemish kinsmen, who had already boldly -asserted that the Sovereignty of the Netherlands would go with the -hand of Madame Jacqueline de Broyart. - -Many favoured the French alliance; others preferred the Netherlander -with the strain of quasi-royal Spanish blood in him. The Marquis de -Landas would prove a useful link between the Spaniards and the -Netherlanders, would know how to smoothe many difficulties, calm the -obstinate temperament of the Dutch and gloss over the tyranny of -their masters. He had suave manners and a persuasive tongue, useful -in politics. The ladies of Cambray at once adored him: his olive -skin, his dark hair which clustered in heavy waves above the well-cut -oval of his face, his large brown, velvety eyes, were all destined to -please the fair sex. He wore a silky moustache and the small, -pointed beard on his chin, and his cheeks were of a blue-black colour -all down where the barber shaved him every day. Whene'er he gazed on -a young and pretty woman his eyes would assume an amorous expression -and his lips were curved and of a bright cherry-red, like those of a -girl. - - -II - -Between Jacqueline and her young kinsman there had sprung just that -kind of love which is made up of passion on the one side and innocent -devotion on the other. At first it had flourished almost -unopposed--ignored, probably, as being of no importance. Monseigneur -d'Inchy's plans for his ward had been both immature and vague, for, -until a year or so ago Jacqueline had a brother living--Jan, a couple -of years older than herself, who was the owner of the rich -Netherlands duchies and on the point of taking unto himself a wife. -But, with the death of that brother, Jacqueline at once became a -personage of vast importance. She had remained the sole possessor of -the princely heritage and thereby a pawn in the political game in -which the Sovereignty of the Netherlands was the priceless guerdon. - -Monseigneur d'Inchy's plans began to mature: ineligible and obscure -suitors were quickly given the cold shoulder and an imaginary barrier -was drawn around Madame Jacqueline into the inner circle of which -only scions of kingly or great princely houses were allowed to enter. -Jacqueline's dowry rendered her a fit mate even for a King. - -Even M. de Landas, more highly connected than most, backed too by his -Royal Spanish kindred, found that his position as an approved suitor -had suddenly become gravely imperilled. Monseigneur d'Inchy no -longer looked on him as an altogether desirable mate for the richest -heiress in the Netherlands, now that one of the sons of the Emperor, -a reigning German duke, and the brother of the King of France, were -among those who had entered the lists for her favours. - -But, as is nearly always the case in such matters, the boy and girl -affection ripened, with this growing opposition, into something more -ardent and more passionate. M. de Landas, who hitherto had dallied -with his pretty cousin just to the extent that suited his wayward -fancy, suddenly realized that he was very deeply enamoured of her; -jealousy did the rest, transforming transient sentiment into -impetuous and exacting fervour. - -As for Jacqueline, though she was no longer a mere child, she was -totally inexperienced and unversed in the knowledge of human -hearts--not excepting her own. She loved de Landas dearly, had loved -him ever since he first began to speak of love to her. It is so -difficult for a girl, as yet untouched by searing passion, to -distinguish between sentimental affection and the love which fills a -life. Landas whispered amorous, tender, flattering words in her ear, -had fine, flashing eyes which, with their glance of bold admiration, -were wont to bring the warm blood to her cheeks. He had a way with -him, in fact, which quickly swept her off her feet in the whirlpool -of his infatuation, long before she had learned that there were other -streams whereon she could have launched her barque of life, with a -greater certainty of happiness. - -Her heart was touched by his ardour, even though her senses were not -fully awakened yet; but she yielded to his caresses with a girlish -surrender of self, not realizing that the thrill of pleasure which -she felt was as ephemeral as it was shallow. She admired him for his -elegant manners, which he had acquired at the Spanish Court, for they -stood out in brilliant contrast to the more uncouth Flemish ways; -whilst his admiration for her was so unbounded that, despite herself, -the young girl felt enraptured by his glowing looks. - -To-night she knew that she was beautiful, and that consciousness lent -her a quaint air of dignity and self-possession. An unwonted -excitement which she could not account for caused her eyes to shine -like stars through the slits of her mask. De Landas could only gaze -in rapt wonderment at the vision of radiant youth and loveliness -which stood before him in the person of Jacqueline de Broyart. - -'You are more adorable to-night than ever, my beloved,' he contrived -to whisper to her behind Monseigneur d'Inchy's back. 'And I am -thankful that Monseigneur's orders have decreed that so much beauty -shall remain hidden from unworthy eyes.' - -Monseigneur, it seems, just caught these last few words, but mistook -their exact meaning. 'All the ladies, my dear de Landas,' he said -somewhat tartly, 'who belong to our circle will appear masked at all -future public functions until I myself do rescind this order.' - -'I was not complaining, Messire,' retorted de Landas dryly. 'On the -contrary, I, as a devoted friend, have reason to rejoice at the -order, seeing that several strangers will be at your banquet this -night, and it were certainly not seemly for ladies of exalted rank to -appear unmasked before them.' - -He paused awhile, noting with pleasure that his bold glance had -brought a glow to Jacqueline's delicate throat and chin. Then he -murmured softly: - -''Tis only when the strangers have departed that we, who have the -privilege of intimacy, can call on the ladies to unmask.' - -'Even you, my dear de Landas,' broke in d'Inchy curtly, 'must be -content to wait until I decide to grant you special favours. Shall -we go below, Madame?' he added, turning to Jacqueline. 'The banquet -is spread for nine o'clock.' - -Jacqueline, who had scarce uttered a word since the gentlemen entered -the room, appeared almost as if she were waking from a trance. Her -eyes had a vague, expectant look in them which delighted de Landas, -for his vanity at once interpreted that look as one caused by his -presence and his own fascination. But now that she encountered her -guardian's cold, quizzical glance, the young girl pulled herself -together, laughed lightly and said with a careless shrug of her -pretty shoulders: - -'Nay, then, Monseigneur; 'twill not be my fault if we are late, for -I've been dressed this past half-hour, and oh!' she added with a mock -sigh of weariness, 'Ye gods! How bored I have been, seeing that I -detest all these modish Parisian clothes almost as much as I do a -mask, and have chafed bitterly at having to don them.' - -'You would not have been bored, Madame,' riposted de Landas with -elaborate gallantry, 'had you but glanced once or twice into your -mirror, for then you would have been regaled with a sight which, -despite the cruel mask, will set every man's heart beating with joy -to-night!' - -She received his formal compliment more carelessly than was her wont, -and he, quick to note every shade of indifference or warmth in her -demeanour, frowned with vexation, felt a curious, gnawing pang of -jealousy assail him. Jacqueline was so young, so adulated, so very, -very beautiful! This was not the first time of late that he had -asked himself whether he could hope to enchain her lasting affection, -as he had done her girlish fancy ... and had found no satisfactory -answer to the bitterly searching question. But she, equally quick to -note his moods, quite a little in awe of his outbursts of jealousy, -which she had learned to dread, threw him a glance which soon turned -his moodiness into wild exultation. After which, Jacqueline turned -to Nicolle, who was standing by, gazing on her young mistress in rapt -adoration. - -'Give me my fan and gloves, dear Colle,' she said. - -And when Colle had given her these things, she put on her gloves and, -holding her fan in one hand and the edge of her satin skirt with the -other, she made a low curtsey before her guardian, looking shy and -demure in every line of her young figure, even though the mask hid -the expression of her face. - -'Does my appearance,' she asked, 'meet with Monseigneur's approval?' - -The answer was so obvious that M. d'Inchy--who was somewhat nervy and -irritable this evening--said nothing but a sharp, 'Come, Jacqueline!' -Whereupon she placed her hand upon his left arm, and without glancing -again in her lover's direction, she walked sedately across the room. - - -III - -The dining hall on the floor below was brilliantly lighted for the -occasion. At one end of it three tables had been laid for eighty-two -guests; they were spread with fine linen and laden with silver dishes -and cut glass. - -In the centre of the room the company was already assembled: -gentlemen and ladies whom Monseigneur, governor of Cambray and the -Cambrésis, desired to honour and to entertain. They had entered the -room in accordance with their rank, those of humble degree first--one -or two of the more important burghers of the town and their wives, -members of the municipal council and mayors of the various guilds. -The gentlemen of quality followed next, for it was necessary, in -accordance with usage, that persons of lower rank should be present, -in order to receive those who stood above them in station. - -It would be a laborious task to enumerate all the personages of -exalted rank who filed into the stately hall, one after another, in a -veritably brilliant and endless procession. The Magistrate--elected -by the Governor--was there as a matter of course, so was the Provost -of the City, and one or two of the Sheriffs. Naturally, the absence -of the Archbishop and of the higher clergy detracted somewhat from -the magnificence of the pageant, but Monseigneur d'Inchy had taken -possession of the city, the province and the Palace, and the -Archbishop was now an exile in his own diocese. On the other hand, -the Peers and Seigneurs of the Province were well represented: we -know that Monseigneur de Prémont was there, as well as Monseigneur -d'Audencourt and Monseigneur d'Esne and many other wealthy and -distinguished gentlemen and their ladies. - -Most of the ladies wore masks, as did many of the men. This mode had -lately become very general in Paris, and the larger provincial towns, -who desired to be in the fashion, were never slow in adopting those -which hailed from the French capital. The custom had its origin in -the inordinate vanity of the time--vanity amounting to a vice--and -which hath never been equalled in any other epoch of history. Women -and men too were so vain of their complexions and spent so much upon -its care, used so many cosmetics, pastes and other beautifiers, that, -having accomplished a veritable work of art upon their faces, they -were loth to expose it to the inclemencies of the weather or the -fumes of tallow candles and steaming food. Hence the masks at first, -especially out of doors and during meals. Afterwards, they became an -attribute of good society. Ladies of rank and fashion wore them when -strangers were present or when at a ball they did not desire to -dance. To remove a mask at the end of a meal or before a dance was a -sign of familiarity or of gracious condescension: to wear one became -a sign of exalted rank, of high connexions and of aloofness from the -commoner herd of mankind. Whereupon those of humbler degree promptly -followed suit. - - -IV - -When M. le Baron d'Inchy entered the dining hall, having Madame -Jacqueline de Broyart on his arm and followed by M. le Marquis de -Landas, the whole company was assembled in order to greet the host. - -Jacqueline's entry was hailed with an audible murmur of admiration -and a noisy frou-frou of silks and satins, as the men bowed to the -ground and the ladies' skirts swept the matting of the floor. The -murmur of admiration increased in boldness as the young girl went -round the company in order to welcome her friends. - -And, indeed, Jacqueline de Broyart fully deserved that admiration. -As you know, Messire Rembrandt painted her a year or so later in the -very dress in which she appeared this night--a dress all of -shimmering white satin and pearls, save for the peep of delicate -green and silver afforded by the under-dress, and the dark crimson of -her velvet shoes and silk stockings. The steel corset encased her -young figure like a breastplate, coming to a deep point well below -the natural waist, whilst round her hips the huge monstrosity of the -farthingale hid effectually all the natural grace of her movements. -In Rembrandt's picture we see the dainty face, round and fresh as a -flower, with the nose slightly tip-tilted, the short upper lip and -full, curved mouth; we also see the eyes, large and blue, beneath the -straight brow--eyes which had nothing of the usually vapid expression -of those that are blue--eyes which, even in the picture, seem to -dance with merriment and with joy, and to which the tiny brown mole, -artfully placed by nature upon the left cheek-bone, lent an -additional air of roguishness and of youth. - -To-night, her girlish figure was distorted by hoops of steel, but -even these abominations of fashion could not mar the charm of her -personality. Her figure looked like an unwieldy bell, but above the -corset her shoulders and her young breasts shone like ivory set in a -frame of delicate lace; her blue eyes sparkled with unwonted -excitement, and beneath the flickering light of innumerable wax -candles her hair had gleams of coppery gold. - -But, above all, there was in Jacqueline de Broyart the subtle and -evanescent charm of extreme youth and that delicious quality of -innocence and of dependence which makes such an irresistible appeal -to the impressionable hearts of men. Just now, she was feeling -peculiarly happy and exhilarated, and, childlike, being happy herself -she was prodigal of smiles: the small element of romance which had so -unaccountably entered into her life with the advent of the mysterious -singer had somehow made the whole world seem gay and bright in a way -which de Landas' passionate and exacting love had never succeeded in -doing. It had dissipated the pall of boredom and ceremonious -monotony which was as foreign to Jacqueline's buoyant nature as was -the corselet to her lissom figure. The light of mischief and frolic -danced in her eyes, even though at times, for a moment or two, de -Landas, who observed her with the keenness and persistence of a -jealous lover, would detect in her manner a certain softness and -languor which made her appear more alluring, more tantalizing -perhaps, then she had ever been. - -As she entered the room, she gave a quick and comprehensive glance on -the assembled company. - -'Tell me, Monseigneur,' she whispered in her guardian's ear, 'has the -stranger arrived?' - -'The stranger?' retorted d'Inchy. 'What stranger?' - -'Pardi! Monsieur le Prince de Froidmont,' she said. 'Who else?' - -'Oh!' replied d'Inchy with well-assumed indifference, 'the Prince de -Froidmont has certainly arrived before now. He is not a person of -great consequence. Why should you be interested in him, my dear -Jacqueline?' - -To this Jacqueline made no answer, looked down her nose very -demurely, so that only her blue-veined lids could be seen through the -slits of her mask. She drew up her slim figure to its full height, -looked tall and graceful, too, despite that hideous farthingale. -Friends crowded round her and round Monseigneur the governor, and she -was kept busy acknowledging many greetings and much fulsome flattery. -M. le Marquis de Landas never swerved from her side. He, too, wore a -mask, but his was a short one which left the mouth and chin free, and -all the while that other men--young ones especially--almost fought -for a look or a smile from the beautiful heiress, his slender hand -was perpetually stroking and tugging at his moustache--a sure sign -that his nerves were somewhat on edge. - - -V - -Monseigneur d'Inchy left his ward for a moment or two in the midst of -all her friends and admirers and drew Monseigneur de Lalain into a -secluded portion of the room. - -'Well!' he began curtly, as soon as he felt assured that there were -no eavesdroppers nigh. 'He is here.' - -'Yes!' said de Lalain, also sinking his voice to a whisper. 'He came -early, as one who is of no account, and at once mixed with the -throng.' - -'You were here when he arrived?' - -'No. But I came soon after.' - -'Was there much curiosity about him?' - -'Naturally,' replied de Lalain. 'Our good bourgeois of Cambray do -not often have the chance of gossiping over so mysterious a -personality.' - -'But did they receive him well?' - -De Lalain shrugged his shoulders and, by way of reply, pointed to the -further end of the room, where a tall figure, richly though very -sombrely dressed and wearing a mask of black satin, stood out in -splendid isolation from the rest of the crowd. - -Gilles, from where he stood, caught de Lalain's gesture and d'Inchy's -scrutinizing look. He replied to both by a scarce perceptible -obeisance. His keen eyes under the shield of the mask had already -swept with a searching glance over the entire company. Strangely -enough, though the success of his present adventure was bound up in a -woman, it was the men's faces that he scanned most eagerly at first. -A goodly number of them wore masks like himself, but when he drew -himself up for a moment to his full height with a movement that was -almost a challenge, he felt quite sure in his own mind that he would -at once detect--by that subtle instinct of self-preservation which is -the attribute of every gambler--if danger of recognition lurked -anywhere about. - -He himself had never been to Cambray, it is true, and he was a knight -of such humble degree that it was not very likely that, among this -assembly of Flemish notabilities, some one should just happen to know -him intimately enough to denounce him as the adventurer that ne -really was. Still, the danger did exist--enough of it, at any rate, -to add zest to the present situation. Light-hearted and careless as -always, Gilles shrugged his broad shoulders and turned his attention -to the ladies. - -Here, though there also was suspicion, there was undoubtedly keen -interest. Over the top of Monseigneur d'Inchy's head Gilles could -see at the end of the room the group of ladies, gay in their -brilliantly-coloured satin dresses and their flashing jewels, like a -swarm of butterflies, and standing as closely together as their -unwieldy hoops would allow. He felt that at least a score pairs of -eyes were fixed upon him through the narrow slits of satin masks, and -that murmured comments upon him and his appearance, conjectures as to -his identity and his rank, flew from many a pair of lovely lips. - -Right in the very centre of that group was a woman all dressed in -white, with just a narrow peep of pale green showing down her skirt, -which gave to her person the appearance of a white lily on its stem. -Something immature about the shoulders and the smooth, round -neck--something shy yet dignified about the poise of the head, -suggested youth not yet fully conscious of its beauty and its power, -while the richness of her attire and of her jewels proclaimed both -wealth and high position. Murmurs and remarks among the gentlemen -around him soon made it clear to Gilles that this was the lady whom -he had been sent to woo. Agreeably thrilled by the delicate curves -of her throat and breast, he thought that he might spend some very -pleasant hours in sentimental dalliance with so fair a maid. - -'We must have that mask from off your face, madonna,' he said to -himself; 'and not later than this night! In affairs of the heart, -even by proxy, one does not like to venture in the dark.' - -So intent was he on his own meditations that he failed to note the -approach of a young cavalier, dressed in rich garments of sober -black, who suddenly addressed him in a slightly ironical tone, which -however appeared intended to be friendly. - -'You seem to be a stranger here, Messire,' the young cavalier said -lightly. 'Can I be of any service?' - -He spoke French very fluently but with a slight guttural accent, -which betrayed Spanish blood and which for some unexplainable reason -grated unpleasantly on Gilles de Crohin's ear. - -'Oh, Messire!' replied the latter quietly, 'I pray you do not waste -your time on me. I am a stranger, it is true; but as such, the -brilliant picture before me is full of interest.' - -'You are visiting Cambray for the first time?' asked the other, still -with an obvious effort at amiability. - -'For the first time--yes, Messire.' - -'In search of fortune?' - -'As we all are, methinks.' - -'Cambray is scarce the place to find it.' - -'Is that your experience of it, Messire?' - -De Landas frowned and a sharp retort obviously hovered on his lips. -He appeared morose and captious about something; probably the fact -that Jacqueline had evinced an extraordinary interest in the masked -stranger had acted as an irritant on his nerves. - -But already Gilles appeared to have completely forgotten his -presence, had only listened with half an ear to the Spaniard's -laboured amenities. For the nonce he was vaguely conscious that -through the slits of her mask, the lily-like maid kept her eyes fixed -very intently upon him. - -'Monseigneur the governor,' de Landas was saying just then, 'desires -your presence, Messire. He wishes you to pay your respects to the -noble Dame Jacqueline de Broyart.' - -The name acted like magic on Gilles' temper. He pulled himself -together and with a cool 'At your service, Messire!' he followed de -Landas across the room. - - -VI - -The presentation had been made. It was very formal and very distant; -it even seemed to Gilles as if Jacqueline had somewhat ostentatiously -turned away from him as soon as he had gone through the ceremonious -bowings and kissing of hand which convention demanded. For a moment -or two after that, M. d'Inchy kept him in close converse, whilst de -Landas, evidently reassured by Jacqueline's indifference toward the -stranger, appeared much more amiable and serene. But the young -Spaniard's mind was apparently still disturbed. He studied the other -man with an intentness which, in those days of fiery and quarrelsome -tempers, might almost have been construed into an insult. He -appeared to chafe under the man's cool confidence in himself and M. -d'Inchy's obvious deference towards one who outwardly was of no -account. - -Gilles took no further notice of him; but, as he would have told you -himself, he felt an atmosphere of hostility around him, which -appeared to find its origin in de Landas' attitude. D'Inchy, aided -by de Lalain, did his best to dissipate that atmosphere, but -evidently he, too, felt oppressed and nervy. Unversed in the art of -duplicity, he was making almost ludicrous efforts to appear at his -ease and to hide his profound respect for a prince of the House of -France under a cloak of casual friendliness--an elephantine effort -which did not deceive de Landas. - -Gilles alone appeared unconscious of embarrassment. His mind was not -properly enchained either to M. d'Inchy's difficulties or to the -young Spaniard's growing enmity. His thoughts were for ever breaking -bounds, turning at every moment to the girlish figure in the unwieldy -hoops and the white satin gown, whose merry laugh was like the -twittering of robins in the early days of spring. Even at this -moment his attention had been arrested by a little episode which -occurred at the end of the room, where she was standing. A little, -sudden cry of pain rang out from beneath one of the satin masks. -Some one had evidently been hurt--a prick from a pin, perhaps, or a -toe trodden on. Anyhow, there was the cry, and Messire Gilles would -have thought nothing more of it only that the next moment a girlish -voice reached his ear--a voice quite tearful and trembling with -compassion. - -'Think you it will heal?' the voice said tenderly. - -And then it appeared to Gilles as if something in his brain had -suddenly been aroused, as if memory--a vague, dreamy memory--had -become quickened and like some intangible sprite had taken a huge -leap backwards into some dim and remote past which the brain itself -was still unable to reach or to seize upon. It was not a -recollection, nor yet a definite thought; but for one moment Gilles -remained absolutely still and was conscious of a curious, swift -beating of his heart, and a still more strange, choking sensation in -his throat. - -The whole episode had occurred within the brief compass of half a -dozen heart-beats, and Gilles, when he looked once more on -Monseigneur d'Inchy, still saw that same look of perplexity upon the -Fleming's face, whilst from the group of ladies in the distant part -of the room there came only the same confused murmur of voices of -awhile ago. - -So Gilles sighed, thinking that his excited fancy had been playing -him an elusive trick. - -And the next moment the loud clanging of a bronze bell proclaimed to -the assembled guests that the banquet was ready to be served. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -HOW THE QUARREL BEGAN - - -I - -Monsieur le Baron D'Inchy took his seat at the head of the principal -table; beside him sat his ward, Madame Jacqueline de Broyart, who had -M. le Comte de Lalain on her left. Gilles sat some little way down -one of the side tables. Outwardly, he was a person of no -importance--a stranger, travelling incognito and enjoying for the -time being the hospitality of Monseigneur the governor. Maître -Jehan, watchful and silent, stood behind his master's chair. The -tables had been lavishly and sumptuously laden with good things: a -perpetual stream of butlers, pages and varlets had walked in and out -of the hall, bringing in dish after dish and placing them upon the -boards. - -The company sat down amidst much laughter and facetious conversation, -and, we take it, every intention of enjoying their host's good cheer. -And, of a truth, it was a brilliant assembly, a veritable -kaleidoscope of colours, an almost dazzling sparkle of jewels. The -dark doublets worn by the men acted as foils to the vivid satins worn -by the ladies. The host and his principal guests had high-backed -chairs to sit on, but every one else sat on low stools, set very far -apart so as to give plenty of room for the display of the ladies' -dresses and their monstrous farthingales. Indeed, the men almost -disappeared between the billows of satin-covered hoops and the huge -lace collars, the points of which would tickle their nose or scratch -their ear or even get into their eye. - -While the serving-men and wenches went the round of the tables with -serviettes over their shoulders and silver ewers and basins in their -hands, offering to the guests tepid water perfumed with orange -flower, with myrtle, lavender and rosemary, for washing their hands, -Gilles de Crohin was watching Jacqueline de Broyart. From where he -sat, he could see her dainty head above a forest of silver -dish-covers. She had not removed her mask; none of the ladies would -do that till, mayhap, after the banquet was over, when conviviality -and good cheer would breed closer intimacy. To Gilles' senses, -rendered supersensitive by his strangely adventurous position, it -seemed as if that piece of black satin, through which he could only -perceive from time to time the flash of glowing eyes, rendered -Jacqueline's personality both mysterious and desirable. He was -conscious of an acute tingling of all his nerves; his own mask felt -as if it were weighted with lead; the fumes of rich soups and sauces, -mingled with those of wine and heady Flemish ale, appeared to be -addling his brain. He felt as if he were in a dream--a dream such as -he had never experienced before save once, when, sick, footsore and -grievously wounded, he had gone on a brief excursion to Paradise. - -Gilles did not know, could not explain it satisfactorily to himself, -why the remembrance of a far-off, half-forgotten dream-voice came, -with sweet persistency, between him and reality, a voice tender and -compassionate, even whilst a pair of eyes, blue as the firmament on -an April morning, seemed to be gazing on him through the slits in the -mask. - - -II - -It would have been difficult for any stranger who happened to have -landed in Cambray, unacquainted with the political circumstances of -its province, to have realized, at sight of Monsieur le gouverneur's -table, that the Spanish armies were even then ravaging the Cambrésis, -and that provisions in the city were becoming scarce owing to the -difficulties which market-gardeners and farmers had of bringing in -their produce. Gilles, who had been in the service of a Royal prince -of France and who had oft risen from the latter's table with his -stomach only half filled, was left to marvel at the prodigality and -the sumptuousness of the repast. Indeed, one of the most interesting -documents preserved until recently in the archives of the city of -Cambray, is the account of this banquet which M. le Baron d'Inchy, -governor of the Cambrésis, gave ostensibly in honour of the -notabilities of the province, but which, I doubt not, was really in -honour of _Monsieur_ Duc d'Anjou et d'Alençon, brother of the King of -France, who we know was present on the occasion, under a -well-preserved incognito. - -And the menu! Ye gods who preside over the arts of gastronomy, what -a menu! Eighty-two persons sat down to it, and of a truth their -appetite and their digestion must have been of the staunchest, else -they could never have grappled successfully with half the contents of -the dishes which were set before them. Three separate services, an' -it please you! and each service consisting of at least forty -different dishes all placed upon the three tables at once, with the -covers on; then, at a given signal, the covers removed, and the -guests ready to help themselves as they felt inclined, using their -knives for the purpose, or else those curiously shaped pronged tools -which Monseigneur d'Inchy had lately imported out of England, so the -town gossips said. - -Ye gods, the menu! For the first service there were no fewer than -eight centre dishes, on each an _oille_--that most esteemed feat of -gastronomic art, in which several succulent meats, ducks, partridges, -pigeons, quails, capons, all had their part and swam in a rich sauce -flavoured with sundry aromatic substances, pepper and muscat, thyme, -ginger, basil and many sweet herbs. Oh, the _oille_, properly -cooked, was in itself a feast! But, grouped around these noble -dishes were tureens of partridges, stewed with cabbage; tureens of -fillets of duckling; several pigeon pies and capons in galantine; -fillets of beef with cucumbers and fricandeaus of lard; and such like -insignificant side dishes as quails in casserole and chickens baked -under hot cinders--excellent I believe! - -After the platters and dishes had become empty, the first service was -removed, clean cloths spread upon the tables--for by this time the -first ones had become well spattered with grease--and perfumed water -once more handed round for the washing of hands. Knives were washed -too, as well as the forks--the few of them that were used. Then came -the second service. Breasts of veal this time, larded and braised, -formed the centre dishes and the minor adjuncts were fowls garnished -with spring chickens and hard-boiled eggs, capons, leverets, and -pheasants garnished with quails: there were sixteen different kinds -of salads and an equal number of different sauces. - -Again the service was removed and clean cloths laid for the third -service. A kind of dessert--little things to pick at, for those who -had not been satisfied. Such little things as boars' heads--twelve -of them--which must have looked magnificent towering along the centre -of the table; omelettes à la Noailles--the recipe of which, given in -a cookery book which was printed in the beginning of the sixteenth -century, does suggest something very succulent--dishes of baked -custards, fritters of peaches, stewed truffles, artichokes and green -peas, and even lobsters, sweetbreads and tongues! - -Such abundance is almost unbelievable, and where all the delicacies -came from I, for one, do not pretend to say. They were there, so -much we know, and eighty-two ladies and gentlemen must have consumed -them all. No wonder that, after the first few moments of formal -ceremonies--of bowings and scrapings and polite speeches--tongues -quickly became loosened and moods became hilarious; wine too and -heady Flemish ales were copiously drunk--not a little of both was -spilled over the fine linen cloths and the rich dresses of the -ladies. But these little accidents were not much thought of these -days; fastidiousness at meals had not yet come to be regarded as a -sign of good breeding, and a high-born gentleman was not thought any -the worse of for vulgar and riotous gorging. - -A very little while ago, M. d'Inchy himself--a man of vast wealth and -great importance--would have been quite content to help himself with -his fingers out of his well-filled platters and to see his guests -around his board doing the same. But ever since the alliance with -France had been discussed by his Council, he had desired to bring -French manners and customs, French fashions in dress, French modes of -deportment, into this remote Belgian province. Indeed, he was even -now warmly congratulating himself that he had quite recently imported -from England for his own use some of those pronged tools which served -to convey food to the mouth in a manner which still appeared strange -to some of his guests. The civic dignitaries of Cambray and more -than one of the Flemish nobles assembled here this night looked with -grave puzzlement, even with disapproval, at those awkward tools which -had so ostentatiously, they thought, been placed beside their -platter: French innovations, some of them murmured contemptuously, of -which they certainly did not approve; whereupon they scrambled -unabashed with their fingers in the dishes for their favourite -morsels. - - -III - -Jacqueline, silent at first, began after awhile to chatter merrily. -Monsieur de Landas, who sat opposite to her, having lately come from -Paris, she begged earnestly for all the latest gossip from the Court. -Madame la Reyne de Navarre? What was she like? Jacqueline had heard -such marvels of her grace and of her intellect. And the Duc d'Anjou? -Was he as handsome as women averred? And was he--was he really such -a rogue as irate husbands and brothers would have every one believe? -Then she wanted to know about the fashions. Were hoops really -growing in size or had a revulsion of feeling set in against them, -and what was the latest mode for dressing the hair? Was it true that -the new green dye specially invented by _Monsieur_ Duc d'Anjou was so -unhealthy to the wearer that many mysterious deaths had already -followed its introduction? - -And all the while that she talked she affected to eat heartily; but -Gilles, who was watching her, saw that she scarce touched a morsel, -only played with her fork, the use of which was evidently still -unfamiliar to her. From time to time she seemed to pause in her -chatter in order to gaze across the table in the direction where he -sat silent and absorbed, somewhat isolated, as if shunned by the rest -of the company; and whenever she did so it seemed to him as if her -eyes called to him through the slits of that mysterious mask. After -awhile, that call seemed so insistent that Gilles had the greatest -difficulty in the world to force himself to sit still. He wanted to -jump up and to go and sit near her, force her to remove that -forbidding mask and let him see just what kind of a face was -concealed behind it. - -By now, you see, his imagination had once more veered right round and -he had quite made up his mind that she was fair to look upon. The -length of the table which separated him from her obsessed his mood, -till he felt a perfect fever of desire and impotence coursing through -his veins. And with this tingling of the nerves came a sense of -jealousy. He could not see the man with whom Jacqueline was -conversing so animatedly, had only given passing attention to -Monsieur de Landas when the latter had spoken with him. But gossip -had already reached his indifferent ear that M. le Marquis de Landas -had--at any rate at one time--been an approved suitor for the hand of -the rich heiress, whereupon Messire Gilles became satisfied within -himself that that unpleasant feeling of dislike, which he was feeling -toward the other man, was solely on account of _Monsieur_ Duc -d'Anjou, his master, over whose interests vis-à-vis that same -heiress, he--Gilles--was set here to watch. - -Still Jacqueline chattered away, and quite ten minutes had gone by -since she had cast a glance in Gilles' direction. So he felt curious -as well as angered and leaned forward in order to get a better view -of Monsieur de Landas. He let his eyes travel along the line of -faces which he saw for the most part only in profile: men and women, -some old, some young, some grave and sober, others frivolous, rowdy, -not a little vulgar, thought the fastidious Sire de Froidmont, who -had Valois blood in his veins and had seen a good deal of the -super-civilization of Paris. All of them appeared intent on -devouring huge slabs of meat, and licking their fingers for the last -drops of sauce. All, that is, except one--the man with whom -Jacqueline was conversing so gaily; a young man, with masses of wavy -black hair, a blue chin and an oval face, which he kept resolutely -turned toward Madame Jacqueline. - -'The favoured lover,' mused Gilles. 'The possibly dangerous enemy of -_Monsieur_ Duc d'Anjou, and spoiler of Madame la Reyne's best laid -schemes.' - -The young man ate very little, but he drank copiously. When he was -not looking at Jacqueline he appeared to be staring moodily before -him and bit furiously at his nails. - -'Attention, friend Gilles!' Messire said to himself. 'There's the -rock against which you may well bruise your head presently if you are -not careful. Madame Jacqueline may, for aught I know, have a fancy -for that amorous, olive-complexioned swain, who, as soon as I begin -to take the centre of the stage--as take it I must--will become, a -fierce and cunning enemy. I shall have to see to it that Madame's -fancy for him turns to indifference. After that, beware, friend -Gilles! Satan hath no finer henchman than a rejected lover.' - - -IV - -As the banquet drew to its close there was little gravity or decorum -left around the festive board. Even the oldest and the gravest had -yielded to the delights of untrammelled gorging. The food was -excellent, the wines beyond praise; every one knew every one else; -they were all friends, companions together, allied by political or -business interests--in many cases by blood. The veneer of -civilization as shown by sober manners had not yet come to be thought -more necessary than good cheer and conviviality. - -The heat in the room had become oppressive. The smoke from -innumerable wax candles made a blue haze overhead, a veil of mist -which hid the high, vaulted ceiling and caused the lights to flicker -dimly. The men had cast aside their mantles and loosened their -sword-belts; the ladies used their plumed fans vigorously. There was -little left on the table even of the elaborate dishes pertaining to -the third service: platters and silver épergnes were for the most -part empty; only now and again some one would lean over and -desultorily pick at a piece of lobster or a truffle--an excuse, -mayhap, for washing down the highly-spiced food with another bumper -of wine. - -Conversation, loud jests--some of them both ribald and coarse--flew -over and across the tables, loud calls were made to friends who sat -far away. The time had come for casting off the last shred of -ceremonial decorum which stood in the way of unbridled hilarity. The -ladies, at the instance of their respective cavaliers, had cast aside -their masks one by one, and their comely faces appeared, crimson and -steaming even beneath the thick layers of cosmetics. - -Jacqueline was one of the few who remained quite calm and cool. She -plied her fan with lazy grace and kept on her mask--despite the -earnest, whispered entreaties of M. de Landas and of a group of young -gallants who had gathered round her. - -Gilles had already made up his mind to go. He felt stifled under his -mask and the heat of the room, the heady fumes of wine and food -rendered him stupid and dizzy. There appeared to be no chance of his -being able to approach Jacqueline again, short of provoking a quarrel -with her Spanish watch-dog, which Gilles would have thought impolitic -to do. On the whole, he thought that it would be best to retire for -the nonce from the scene. His day had not been altogether -unsuccessful: it was the fifth since his arrival in Cambray, and -surely Madame la Reyne de Navarre would by now be on the track of her -truant brother. Gilles' probation could not last many days longer, -and in the meanwhile he had definitely made up his mind that -_Monsieur's_ future bride was adorable, and that she already evinced -a more than passing interest in the masked stranger who had serenaded -her so boldly from beneath her casement-window. - -Not a bad beginning, thought Messire, as he gave a wink to Jehan to -follow him and rose from his seat. The moment which he chose -appeared a favourable one: the etiquette of the supper table was -considerably relaxed; those of Monseigneur's guests who wished to do -so had taken to moving about from place to place, according as they -desired to speak with friends; whilst some who wished to hold private -converse together, or who were on the point of leaving, actually -walked out of the room. - -This was Gilles' opportunity. Just then Monseigneur d'Inchy rose -also. Monsieur le Prince d'Eremberghe and his lady were about to -take their leave. They were personages of vast importance and the -host desired to do them special honour. Accompanied by de Lalain, he -escorted his departing guests to the door, and thence, having the -Princess on his arm, he went out into the antechamber, followed by de -Lalain and the Prince. He had not noticed Gilles, and the latter -stood for a moment or two in the centre of the room, alone with -Jehan, and momentarily undecided. He surveyed the group at the head -of the table with a critical frown: the young gallants--there were -six of them--were crowding round Madame, some leaning across the -table, others pressing close to her chair. She may have been amused -at the platitudes wherewith they were regaling her; she may have -enjoyed their conversation and M. de Landas' ardent glances--she may -have done all that, I say, and thought no more of the man standing -there alone in the middle of the room than if he had been one of her -lacqueys. But, as chance would have it--or was it indeed Gilles' -compelling look which drew her own?--certain it is that she turned -her head in his direction and that he _felt_ that she was regarding -him quizzically, searchingly, through the eye-slits of her mask. - -Quickly he gave a few whispered instructions to his faithful Jehan; -then he calmly strode across the room. - -Monseigneur the governor was still absent: his seat beside Madame -Jacqueline was empty. Gilles walked up the length of the table--no -one heeded him--and before any one--least of all M. de Landas--was -aware of his intention, sat down quite coolly on M. d'Inchy's vacant -chair, immediately next to Jacqueline. - - -V - -If you can imagine a cannon ball exploding in the very centre of that -festive board, you will have some dim idea of the effect produced -upon M. d'Inchy's guests by this manoeuvre. Every head was at once -turned in that direction, for M. de Landas and his friends had -uttered an exclamation that was almost ludicrous in its bewildered -wrath. - -The ladies round the supper tables could not do more than utter -shrill little screams of disapproval, and many of the men were, alas! -too deep in their cups to do aught save mutter bibulous imprecations -against the malapert. A few rose and ran to give the weight of their -moral and social support to de Landas, who had already jumped to his -feet and appeared ready to make of this incident a quarrel--and that -quarrel, his own. Of a truth, it was de Landas who had been most -grievously insulted. The vacant chair beside Madame Jacqueline could -only be taken by an intimate friend such as he. Already his hand was -on his sword-hilt; his eyes, somewhat dimmed by the effect of copious -libations, were rolling with unbridled fury; beneath his mask a hot -flush had risen to his forehead, whilst below the curly masses of his -dark hair his ears appeared white and shiny like wax. Unfortunately, -he, like several other gentlemen present here this night, had drunk a -vast quantity of Burgundy and Rhenish wine, not to mention several -bumpers of excellent Flemish ale, and when choler came to mingle with -the fumes of so much heady liquor, M. de Landas on rising, turned -very giddy and had to steady himself for a moment or two against the -table. - -Just at that moment a veritable pandemonium reigned in the stately -banqueting hall. - -'The insolence!' said some of the ladies to the accompaniment of -piercing little shrieks. - -'A stranger!' - -'A prince from Nowhere at all!' - -'Bah! A Prince!' - -'A mere fortune hunter!' - -'Probably a Spanish spy!' - -'Only a Spaniard would have such insolence!' - -'Such impudence passes belief!' - -The men--those who could speak coherently--sent encouraging calls to -de Landas: - -'Seize him by the collar, M. le Marquis!' - -'Throw him out!' - -'Have him kicked out by the varlets!' - -Enough noise, in fact, to break the drum of a sensitive ear. But -Gilles appeared superbly unconscious of the storm which was brewing -round him. He had his back to M. de Landas, leaned an elbow on the -table and faced Madame Jacqueline as coolly as if he had been invited -by every one here to pay her his respects. - -Jacqueline, demure and silent, was smiling beneath her mask. To look -at her, you would have sworn that she was stone-deaf and heard -nothing of the tumult around her. - -It soon raged furiously. M. de Landas had quickly recovered himself. -His towering rage helped to dissipate the fumes of wine and ale which -had somewhat addled his brain, and backed by all his friends he made -preparation to throw the malapert to the tender mercies of M. -d'Inchy's varlets, and as a preface to the more forcible proceeding, -he turned in order to smite the impudent stranger in the -face--turned, and found himself confronted by a short, -square-shouldered man, with a round head and fists held clenched on a -level with a singularly broad chest. - -The man stood between Gilles and M. de Landas; he had the table on -his right and the monumental mantelpiece on his left, and behind him -was the tall carved oak back of the chair on which Gilles was -sitting--all equally strong barriers to the young Marquis' bellicose -intentions. - -'Out of the way, lout!' shouted de Landas furiously, and would have -seized Maître Jehan by the collar but for the fact that it was a very -difficult thing indeed to seize Maître Jehan by any portion of his -squat person unless he chose to allow so unceremonious a proceeding, -and just now he was standing guard between a number of enraged -gentlemen and the back of his master's chair--a trying position, -forsooth, for any man of Maître Jehan's prowess, for ... well! he -would not have dared to lay hands on such a great gentleman as was M. -le Marquis; but, against that, M. le Marquis had no chance of laying -hands on Maître Jehan either. - - -VI - -And all the while, Gilles sat so near to Jacqueline that his knees -touched the hoops of her skirt. Instinctively she drew her own chair -back with that same little demure air which was apparent in every one -of her movements, even though her face was concealed by the mask. - -'An' you move an inch further, fair one,' he said boldly, 'I vow that -I shall be ready to commit a crime.' - -'You are committing one now, Messire,' retorted Jacqueline. 'A crime -against decorum, by sitting in my guardian's place.' - -'Then I'll no longer sit--I'll kneel at your feet,' he riposted, and -made a movement as if to push away his chair. - -'Heaven forbid!' she exclaimed lightly. 'M. de Landas would kill -you!' - -'I am not so easily killed,' he rejoined. 'And M. de Landas is, for -the moment, engaged with my man.' - -'Who is getting sorely pressed, Messire!' cried Jacqueline with -sudden, eager excitement. 'Will you not go to his aid?' - -She had caught sight of Jehan, standing with his back to his master's -chair, fists levelled, shoulders squared, defying not only M. de -Landas but a crowd of other gentlemen, who had rushed forward to -support their friend. - -'Not before you have promised to unmask, fair one,' Gilles said -calmly. - -'I?' she exclaimed, now really staggered by his cool impudence. 'You -are dreaming, Messire!' - -'I think I am, Madame,' he replied; 'therefore I must have your -promise ere I wake.' - -'You are presumptuous!' - -'Just now you said that I was dreaming. A man who dreams is a man -asleep--and a man asleep is too helpless to be presumptuous.' - -'That is sophistry, Messire,' she retorted. 'And while you parley -thus idly, your man is in serious danger through the wrath of these -gentlemen.' - -'My good Jehan's danger is not so pressing as mine. He hath my -orders to hold these gentlemen at arm's length until I give the word, -whilst Monseigneur d'Inchy may be back any moment before I wake up -from my dream.' - -'Oh!' she urged now with well-feigned alarm. 'But your poor man -cannot stand long before these gentlemen, and you, Messire, will -surely not allow him to receive all those knocks which are intended -for you!' - -'I have received many a score which were intended for him,' retorted -Gilles with a laugh. 'Jehan and I have long ceased to reckon up -accounts. Your promise, fair one,' he pleaded; 'ere Monseigneur -return to place a spoke in my wheel!' - -She felt now as if she were trapped, no longer combated his desire, -but merely appeared anxious to gain time until her guardian came to -release her from the strange, compelling power of this man, who was -arrogating unto himself rights which could only be claimed by a -friend or lover. - -'Oh, mon Dieu!' she exclaimed agitatedly, half rising from her chair -in her eagerness to catch sight of Jehan. 'He cannot long parry the -attack----' - -'Your promise, fair one,' he insisted quietly, 'to let me see your -sweet face to-night! I swore it to myself just now, when you threw -me a glance across the room, that I would look into your eyes -untrammelled. Your promise!--or I vow that I'll do something -desperate!' - -'Heavens above!' she exclaimed, keeping her attention deliberately -fixed on Maître Jehan. 'If he should strike one of these -gentlemen--he--a mere servant!...' - -'If he does,' riposted Gilles lightly, 'I will take up his quarrel, -with this token tied to my sword-hilt.' And from the inner pocket of -his doublet he drew a tiny, perfumed rag, held it in his hand and -waved it with an ostentatious flourish for her to see. - -She gave a quick, involuntary little cry of alarm: 'My handkerchief!' - -'Undoubtedly, fair one!' he said coolly. 'It hath your initials and -crown embroidered in the corner! Think you Messire de Landas' choler -will cool at sight of it?' - -Her forehead, her tiny ears, her neck and chin, everything that he -could see of her dainty face, had become suffused with a warm blush. - -'Messire!' she said firmly, 'I command you to give me back that -handkerchief, which you stole unawares.' - -'It was flung at me with a sheaf of lilies, which, alas! have -withered. 'Tis my right hand which shall wither ere I part from the -handkerchief.' - -'My handkerchief!' she reiterated impatiently. - -'Only with my life! But it shall lie for ever hidden against my -heart if you will promise...' - -'Messire, you are committing a base and unworthy act!' - -'I know it,' he said with a smile. 'But I must have that promise.' - -'Promise of what?' she asked breathlessly, driven into a corner by -his obstinacy. - -'To let me look straight into your eyes to-night,' he said, -'unfettered by that hideous mask.' - -He leaned forward so that his face now was quite close to hers, and -he could feel her quick breath against his cheek. - -'No, no!' she said with a little gasp. 'My guardian--and--and M. de -Landas----' - -'Very well!' he said dryly, and began quietly winding the little rag -around his sword-hilt. - -'Messire!' she said in a peremptory tone, through which a note of -appeal, if not of genuine alarm this time, could be distinctly -perceived. - -'Promise!' he reiterated relentlessly. - -Just then she caught sight of de Landas, who, flushed with choler, -was thrusting somewhat wildly at Maître Jehan. She thought that his -eyes were constantly wandering in her direction and that he was -vainly trying to get near her, past his sturdy opponent, who was -guarding the approach to his master's chair with all the fierceness -of a Cerberus. Somehow, at sight of de Landas thus fighting with -almost savage violence, she lost her head for the moment. Of a -truth, the matter of the handkerchief might lead to a very bitter -quarrel between her lover and this stranger. A very bitter -quarrel--and worse! De Landas was wont to lose all self-control when -jealous rage had hold of him, was as quick with his dagger as with -his rapier! And here was this tantalizing troubadour calmly -preparing to flaunt upon his sword-hilt the handkerchief which bore -her name and coronet. He looked up and caught the sparkle of her -eyes. - -'Promise!' he insisted quite coolly. - -And she--very reluctantly--murmured: 'Very well; I promise!' - -'To-night!' he insisted. - -'No!--no!' she protested. 'Not to-night!' - -'To-night!' he reiterated firmly, smiled at her too beneath his mask -as if in triumph--Oh, the insolence of him!--and continued to toy -with the compromising bit of white rag. - -If only Monseigneur would return! There was nothing for it but to -acquiesce. De Landas even then looked the very image of wild and -unreasoning fury. Jacqueline shuddered and murmured a quick: 'Very -well! To-night! I promise!' - -Gilles gave an equally quick sigh of satisfaction. - -'When?' he asked. - -But before she could reply, there came a loud curse from Jehan. He -had been seized round the legs by two varlets, even while he was -engaged in warding off the blows which were aimed at his head by half -a dozen gallants. It was when he came down with a dull thud upon his -knees and felt that he could no longer stand between his master and -these evil-intentioned gentlemen that he gave forth a prolonged and -uproarious stutter: - -'The d-d-d-d-d----' - -Gilles jumped to his feet. In less than three completed seconds he -was round by the side of Jehan, had kicked the two varlets out of the -way and interposed his massive person between his faithful henchman -and the seething group of bellicose gallants. - -'Silence, chatterbox!' he said coolly to Jehan. 'These seigneurs are -not here to listen to your perorations. Anything that must be said -can be referred to me.' - -He had one hand on the elegant hilt of his Spanish rapier; the other -rested on the shoulder of Maître Jehan, who had struggled very -quickly to his feet. His mocking glance, veiled by the black satin -mask, swept coolly over de Landas and his friends. - -'Insolent!' exclaimed one of the men. - -'Unmask the spy!' cried out another. - -'Leave the rogue to me!' quoth de Landas, who was getting beside -himself with rage. - -Already half a dozen swords were drawn. Every one who had been drunk -before became sobered in the instant; those who had remained sober -felt suddenly drunk with choler. Some of the ladies thought it best -to scream or to feign a swoon, others made a rush for the door. No -one dared to come nigh, for de Landas was a man who was not good to -trifle with when his ire was aroused. But those who were not taking -part in the quarrel were certainly not eyeing the stranger with any -degree of benevolence, and Jacqueline felt more than she actually -heard the adverse comments made upon this Prince de Froidmont--so he -was styled, it appeared--who had come no one knew whence and who -seemed to arrogate unto himself privileges which only pertained to -favoured friends. - -Thus a wide circle was formed at one end of the room, leaving at the -other, in splendid isolation, the group which was made up of half a -dozen young gallants standing in threatening attitudes in front of -the masked stranger, who now had his henchman on one side of him and -on the other the monumental mantelpiece, in which the fire had been -allowed to die down. - -'Out of the way, malapert!' cried de Landas savagely to Gilles, as he -advanced towards him with sword clutched and eyes that glowed with a -fierce flame of unbridled wrath. His desire was to reach Jacqueline, -who stood a little way behind Gilles, near the table, watching in an -attitude of tense excitement the progress of this quarrel, and with -an eye on the door through which she hoped every moment to see her -guardian reappear. - -But, quick as lightning, Gilles had barred the way. He appeared -highly amused and perfectly at his ease, laughed boldly in M. de -Landas' heated face; but would not let him pass. - -It was easy to perceive that he was enjoying this quarrel, loved to -see the glint of those swords which threatened him even while they -promised to vary the monotony of this sentimental adventure. He had -not drawn his own. In France, fighting in the presence of ladies was -thought highly unseemly. These Flemings were different, very -uncouth, not a little brutal and abominably hot-headed. Well! the -quarrel once begun would of a surety not end here and now, even -though M. d'Inchy were to return and peremptorily order it to stop. -There was something in M. de Landas' sullen and defiant attitude -which delighted Gilles: and when half a dozen irate gentlemen shouted -hoarsely, 'Out of the way!' he laughed and said: - -'Impossible, Messeigneurs! 'Tis for you to retire. Our gracious -hostess will grant me the favour of unmasking. An' I am much -mistaken, she will not do the same for you.' - -'Madame Jacqueline,' retorted de Landas hotly, 'will not unmask -before the first jackanapes who dares to approach her unbidden.' - -'Ah! but I am not unbidden,' riposted Gilles gaily. 'Have I not told -you that Madame will deign to unmask ere I bid her good-night?' - -'Insolent coxcomb!' shouted the other excitedly. - -'A spy!' cried one of the others. - -'Tear off his mask, de Landas! Let us see the colour of his skin!' - -'An impudent rogue!' added a third. - -'M. le Marquis de Landas,' here interposed Jacqueline peremptorily, -'you forget that M. le Prince de Froidmont is our guest.' - -'Oh!' retorted de Landas with a sneer, 'if he is under the protection -of the ladies...' - -'Under no protection save that of my sword, Messire!' broke in Gilles -carelessly. 'And that will be entirely at your service as soon as I -have taken leave of our fair hostess.' - -'Nay! that you shall not do!' riposted de Landas. 'Your impudent -assertion of awhile ago has put you outside the pale. You shall not -take your leave! 'Tis we who'll throw you out; unless you relieve us -of your company now--at once!' - -'Well said, de Landas!' came in an approving chorus from the irate -group of de Landas' friends. - -'We'll throw him out!' cried some of them. 'Leave him to us.' - -'A spy!' came from others. - -'Now, Messire--whoever you may be,' concluded de Landas with ironic -emphasis, 'will you go willingly or shall my friends and I----' - -'For shame, Messire!' broke in Jacqueline loudly and firmly. 'You -are six against one----' - -'So much the better!' riposted de Landas with a harsh laugh. 'At -him, friends!' - -'Madame,' said Gilles, turning to Jacqueline with perfect calm, 'your -promise will remain for ever unredeemed if these gentlemen succeed in -throwing me out of the room; for this, I vow, they cannot do while I -am alive.' - -'Jacqueline,' interposed de Landas impulsively, 'I forbid you to -unmask before this man.' - -He had guessed her purpose, for already her hand was raised towards -her mask; and so enraged was he that she should thus yield to this -stranger whom already he had come to hate, that he forgot himself, -lost all self-control, and said just the one word which decided -Jacqueline. At the word 'forbid,' she drew herself up to her full -height and faced her lover with calm and hauteur. - -'There is nothing,' she said coolly, 'that any one here has the right -to command or forbid.' Then she turned to Gilles: 'I'll bid you -good-night now, Messire, and can but offer to you--a stranger--my -humble apologies in mine and my guardian's name for the uncouth -behaviour of my countrymen.' - -'Jacqueline!' exclaimed de Landas with a hoarse cry of rage. - -But even before this final protest had reached her ear, she had -extended one hand to Gilles and with the other slowly detached the -mask from her face. He had stooped very low in order to kiss her -finger-tips; when he straightened out his tall figure once more he -was face to face with her. - -He never spoke a word or made a sign. He did not look into her eyes -at first, though these were as blue as the skies in Southern France; -he did not gaze at the delicate mouth with the deep corners and the -roguish smile, or at the chiselled, slightly tip-tilted nose with the -sensitive nostrils that were quivering with excitement. No! all that -Messire Gilles gazed on at the moment was a tiny brown mole which -nestled tantalizingly on the velvety cheek, just below the left eye. -And for that moment he forgot where he was, forgot the storm of -enmity which was raging around him, the unworthy rôle which he had -set out to play for the deception of a confiding girl. He lost count -of time and of space and found himself once more lying on cool, -sweet-smelling straw, with a broken wrist and an aching head, and -with a vision as of an angel in white bending over his fevered brow -and murmuring in tones of exquisite compassion, 'Think you it will -heal?' - -And as he gazed on that little mole, that veritable kissing-trap -which had tantalized him long ago, his lips murmured vaguely: - -'My dream!' - - -VII - -Of course the little interlude had all occurred within a very few -seconds: the kiss upon the soft, warm hand, the look upon that -roguish face, the swift and sudden rush of memory--it had all -happened whilst poor M. de Landas was recovering from the shock of -Jacqueline's cold rebuke. Her stern taunt had come down on him like -a hammer-blow upon the head; he felt dazed for a moment; speechless, -too, with a white rage which was too great at first for words. But -that kind of speechless fierceness seldom lasts more than a few -seconds. Even as Gilles de Crohin was quietly collecting his -scattered senses and Jacqueline, vaguely puzzled, was readjusting her -mask in order to be able to gaze on him unobserved, marvelling why he -should have murmured 'My dream!' and looked so strangely at her, de -Landas had recovered some measure of self-control. The anger which -he felt against the stranger was no longer impetuous and ebullient; -it had become cold and calculating, doubly dangerous and more certain -to abide. - -He put up his sword, motioned to his friends to do likewise--which -they did, murmuring protestations. They were itching to get at the -stranger who had triumphed so signally over them all. But de Landas -was waiting with apparent calm whilst Gilles took leave of -Jacqueline. This Gilles did with all the ceremony which etiquette -demanded. He still felt dazed with the strange discovery which he -had just made, the knowledge that the dream which he had only -cherished as a vague memory was a living, breathing, exquisite -reality. Ye gods! how exquisite she was! - -But he had no excuse for lingering--had, on the other hand, a wild -desire to be alone, in order to think, to remember and to dream. So, -having bowed his last farewell, he turned to go, and found de Landas -barring his way. - -'You will pay for this outrage, Messire,' said the latter in a quick -whisper through his set teeth. - -'Whenever you please,' replied Gilles imperturbably. - -'To-night----' - -'Surely not while ladies are present,' broke in Gilles quietly. - -''Tis in Madame's presence,' retorted de Landas roughly, 'whom you -have insulted, that I and my friends----' - -'Messire!' protested Jacqueline firmly. - -'Ah! a valorous half-dozen then?' rejoined Gilles lightly. 'I see -that you--and your friends, Messire--have no intention of taking any -risks.' - -'Our intention is to tear that mask off your impudent face and make -you lick the dust at Madame Jacqueline's feet.' - -'And mine,' riposted Gilles gaily, 'is to collect a trophy of half a -dozen masks--yours, Messire, and those of your friends--on the point -of my sword and to place these with my homage at Madame Jacqueline's -feet.' - -'Insolent!' - -'I therefore am completely at your service, gentlemen,' concluded -Gilles, with an ironical bow directed at his opponents. 'Whenever, -wherever you please.' - -'Here and now!' broke in de Landas, whose self-control--never of long -duration--had already given way. 'At him, friends! And, by Satan, -we'll teach this malapert a lesson!' - -It was in vain that Jacqueline tried to interpose; in vain that the -ladies about the room screamed and swooned, that the men even began -loudly to protest. Neither de Landas nor his friends were in a state -to hear either commands or protests. All decorum, chivalry, -breeding, was thrown to the winds. Hatred had descended like an ugly -night-hawk upon these young gallants, and with her frowzy, sable -wings had enveloped their brain and hearts till they were deaf to the -most elementary dictates of honour. With de Landas, a wild, -insensate jealousy had fanned that hatred to a glowing brazier of -unreason and of madness. He saw--or thought he saw--that Jacqueline -displayed unwonted interest in this stranger, that her eyes followed -his movements with anxiety not unmixed with admiration. And de -Landas became conscious of a red veil before his eyes and of a -furious desire to humiliate that man first and to kill him after. - -'At him, friends!' he called again hoarsely. 'We'll teach him a -lesson!' - -It was most fortunately at this very moment, and when the tumult was -at its height, that Monseigneur d'Inchy re-entered the room. Just -for a second or two he did not pay much heed to the noise. In these -days, when political and religious controversies oft raged with -bitter acrimony, it was not very unusual that a hot quarrel marred -the close of a convivial gathering. D'Inchy at first did not do more -than glance round the room, to see if his interference was really -necessary. Then, to his horror, he realized what was happening, saw -_Monsieur_ Duc d'Anjou, own brother to the King of France and future -Sovereign Lord of the Netherlands, standing in the midst of a group -of young hotheads, who were actually threatening Monseigneur the -governor's exalted guest! - -And de Landas, that impetuous quarrelsome young coxcomb, was talking -of giving _Monsieur_ a lesson! It was unbelievable! Appalling! -D'Inchy was a middle-aged man, but it was with a degree of vigour -which many young men might have envied that he pushed his way through -the jabbering and gesticulating throng of men and women, right across -the room to the top of the table, where he arrived just in time to -avert what would indeed have been a terrible calamity. - -'By Heaven, M. de Landas,' he interposed stoutly, ''tis I will teach -you and these gentlemen a lesson which you are not like to forget!' - -And, regardless of de Landas' and his friends' glowering looks, he -pushed his way to Gilles' side and stood facing that angry little -crowd who, suddenly abashed, drew back a step or two, muttering -wrathful expletives. Monseigneur, of course, was their host and an -old man; but why should he interfere and spoil what promised to be -really fine sport? - -'M. le Prince de Froidmont is my guest,' M. d'Inchy went on calmly. -'Who quarrels with him, insults me and my house.' - -A real sigh of relief came from Madame Jacqueline. Already, at sight -of her guardian, she had felt reassured, and now he had voiced just -what she had wished to say all along. She felt grateful to him for -this and for his dignified attitude, and with a pretty, clinging -gesture, sidled up to him and took hold of his arm. - -What could the young gallants do? They were helpless for the moment, -even though still raging with choler. De Landas tried to look as if -nothing of importance had happened, even though from beneath his mask -he shot a last glance of hatred and menace at his unperturbed enemy. -The others quickly followed suit and for the moment the incident was -at an end. Fortunately it was not likely to have unpleasant -consequences, for already Gilles had interposed with his habitual -good-humour. - -'Your pardon, Monseigneur,' he said. 'These--these gentlemen and I -had no intention of insulting one another. We were only having a -little argument, and as your hospitality hath been over-lavish, we -became somewhat heated; that is all!' - -'Somewhat heated!' riposted d'Inchy gruffly. 'With mine own ears I -heard M. le Marquis Landas here...' - -'Yes, that's just it!' broke in Gilles imperturbably. 'M. de Landas -and I were indulging in a friendly argument, which your presence, -Monseigneur, at once rendered futile.' - -M. d'Inchy sighed with relief. Gilles' coolness was contagious; even -de Landas ceased to growl and the others to mutter. Thank Heaven! -the quarrel was fizzling out like an unfanned flame, and in any case -Monsieur was taking the situation with perfect good-humour. D'Inchy, -bent, as always, on conciliation, smiled with impartial blandness on -every one, whilst Jacqueline, silent and demure now as if nothing had -happened, was once more looking straight down her nose. D'Inchy took -hold of her hand, which still rested upon his arm, and patted it -gently with an indulgent, fatherly caress. - -'Then all is for the best, Messeigneurs,' he said, 'and with your -leave my ward will now take her leave of you. I fear me that your -friendly argument has somewhat fatigued her. By the way,' he added -lightly, 'you have not yet told me what that argument was about.' - -'Oh!' rejoined Gilles with a quiet smile, 'we only argued as to whose -should be the privilege of placing a trophy at the feet of our fair -hostess.' - -'A trophy? What trophy?' - -'Oh, something quite insignificant. A--a mask--or half a dozen----' - -'Just like so many 'prentices a-quarrelling,' said d'Inchy with gruff -good-humour. 'A mask or half a dozen, forsooth! You'd far better -all be going to bed now. Madame cares nothing for your masks or your -trophies. She is too tired for any such nonsense. Eh, Jacqueline?' - -'Not too tired, Monseigneur,' replied Jacqueline demurely, 'to forgo -the pleasure of bidding you good-night ere you go to rest.' - -'There, you see, gentlemen,' rejoined d'Inchy gaily, 'that age has -certain privileges which youth seeks for in vain. Whilst you go -moodily, unsatisfied, to bed, the fairest of the fair will be sitting -with her old guardian in his living-room, prattling away on the -events of this night, quizzing you all, I'll warrant; laughing at -your quarrels and your trophies. Is that not so, my dear? ... One -mask or half a dozen! ... Are they not like children, these gallants, -with their senseless quarrels? But there, while women are beautiful, -men will quarrel for their favours--what?' - -And he looked down with fatherly pride on the golden head which was -kept so resolutely bent. - -'C'est entendu, Monseigneur,' replied Jacqueline softly. 'I'll come -to your living-room as usual and bid you good-night after all our -guests have departed.' - -Far be it from me even to hint that, as she said this, Jacqueline -threw more than a cursory glance on Gilles or on M. de Landas, for -nothing could have looked more demure, more dignified and aloof than -she did at this moment, when, having spoken, she bowed with stiff -grace to the group of gentlemen before her. And even Maître Calviac -would have felt that he was a mere bungler in the matter of bowings -and scrapings if he could have seen these gallants responding to -Madame's salute; the right leg outstretched, the left foot kept back, -the hand almost touching the floor with a wide sweep of the arm, then -brought back to the lips as for an imaginary kiss. - -The next moment Jacqueline had turned and presently could be seen, -still with that same stiff grace, receiving the adieux of her -guardian's guests. She held her small head very erect and with one -hand plied her fan with lazy nonchalance, whilst the other was -perpetually being extended to those whose privilege it was to kiss it. - -As for the group of young gallants--well! they had the immediate -future to look forward to. True, that for the nonce they were -forbidden to continue the quarrel for fear of incurring their host's -displeasure; but it was only a matter of putting off the happy hour -when one could be even with that insolent stranger. De Landas turned -with a significant gesture and a knowing wink to his friends. After -that, the small group dispersed and ostentatiously mingled with the -rest of the departing crowd. - -D'Inchy, before he left Gilles' side, managed to murmur fulsome -apologies. - -'I do assure Monseigneur,' he whispered earnestly in Gilles' ear, -'that these young jackanapes will not be tempted to repeat their -impudence, and that I...' - -'And that you, Messire,' broke in Gilles a little impatiently, 'are -entirely innocent of any intention of offending me. That is, of -course, understood. Believe me,' he added gaily, 'that the little -incident was more than welcome as far as I am concerned. Your lavish -hospitality had made us all drowsy. M. de Landas' aggressive temper -brought life and animation into the entertainment. I, for one, am -grateful to him for the episode.' - -Five minutes later he too had taken leave of his host. Jacqueline he -did not see again. She was entirely surrounded by friends. -Nevertheless, he left the banqueting hall in a state of exhilaration, -and as he passed through the doors between the rows of Monseigneur's -obsequious serving-men, they all remarked that Monsieur le Prince de -Froidmont was humming a lively tune, the words of which appeared to -be: - - 'Les plis de sa robe pourprée - Et son teint au vostre pareil!' - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -AND HOW IT ENDED - - -I - -When Gilles de Crohin found himself alone with Maître Jehan in the -corridor which led straight to the main entrance hall, he paused for -a moment, irresolute, wondering what he had best do. That there had -been murder in the eyes of that gallant Marquis de Landas no one -could doubt for a moment, and there lay a long stretch of dark -streets and narrow lanes between the Archiepiscopal Palace and the -safe shelter of 'Les Trois Rois.' - -But you cannot imagine Messire Gilles de Crohin quaking even for a -moment at the thought. - -'Careful we must be,' he said in a whisper to his faithful _alter -ego_; 'for my choleric friend will not, I imagine, be above lying in -wait for us within the shelter of a convenient doorway, and I should -ill serve the cause of the Queen of Navarre by getting spiked between -the shoulders at such an early stage of the proceedings. But between -that and showing that gallant Spaniard a clean pair of heels and -foregoing the pleasure of threading his mask on my blade, there is a -world of difference; eh, my good Jehan?' - -'Above all things,' he added to himself, under his breath, so that -even Jehan could not hear, 'I must find out whether a certain -provoking glance, which flashed from out a pair of the most adorable -blue eyes I have ever seen, were intended for me or not.' - -And his thoughts flew riotously back to Jacqueline--Jacqueline, his -dream, his tantalizing, exquisite dream--Jacqueline of the blue eyes -and the captivating mole--Jacqueline of the roguish smile and the -demure glance. - -'I wonder, now!' he murmured softly. Had she perchance meant to give -him a hint? Had she thrown him a warning glance? Gilles just then -could have sworn that she had done both when she spoke of -Monseigneur's living-room, where she would sit prattling after the -last of the guests had departed. - -'Did she mean me to take refuge there against de Landas' murderous -intentions?' he asked himself. But the supposition did not appear -likely. Gilles was no coxcomb and had not had many dealings with -women during the course of his chequered career; but he had an innate -respect for them, and would not credit Jacqueline--proud, demure, -stately Jacqueline--with the intention of offering a gratuitous -rendezvous to an unknown gallant. Rather was her glance intended for -de Landas--the assignation was for him: 'perhaps,' thought Messire -Gilles with a vague stirring of hope in his heart, 'perhaps with a -view to keeping that fiery lover of hers out of harm's way, till I -myself was safely abed.' - -Be that as it may, the most elementary dictates of prudence demanded -that he should go back to his hostelry before his enemies had time to -concoct any definite plans for his undoing. So, calling to Jehan to -follow him, he found his way quickly out of the Palace. - -It was raining heavily just then; the streets were dark and, after a -while, quite deserted. Gilles and Jehan, keeping a sharp look-out -around them, walked rapidly and kept to the middle of the streets. -Fortunately for them both, they had had plenty of leisure in the last -four days to wander through the intricate by-ways of the Flemish -city. They knew the lay of the land pretty well by now, and at this -moment when the thought of a possible _guet-apens_ was foremost in -their minds, they were able to outwit any potential assassin who -might be lurking on the direct route by going to the hostelry along -devious ways usually unfrequented by strangers. - -Thus it took them nearly half an hour to reach 'Les Trois Rois,' and -Jehan, for one, was heartily congratulating himself that those -murderous gentlemen had been comfortably thrown off the scent and -were mayhap cooling their tempers somewhere in the cold and the wet, -when, just as they entered the porch of the hostelry, a shadowy -figure detached itself from out the gloom. - -Gilles was already prepared with a quick, 'Qui va là?' but the figure -proved inoffensive-looking enough: a woman, wrapped in a mantle and -hood from head to foot. She had a small roll of paper in her hand, -and this she held out timidly to Gilles. - -'Monseigneur le Prince de Froidmont?' she inquired under her breath. - -'Myself,' replied Gilles curtly. 'What is it?' - -He took the paper and unrolled it. By the light of a small lanthorn -which hung just inside the porch he saw that it was a letter--just a -few lines--written in a small, pointed hand, and signed with the -letter 'J.' - -'Jacqueline!' he murmured, bewildered--so dazed that it took him some -time before he was able to read. At last he deciphered the brief -message. - - - - 'I do entreat you, Messire,' it ran, 'to return to the palace - within the hour. Nay! I do not entreat, I command! Go to the - postern Gate: you will find it unlatched. Then cross the - Courtyard till you come to a door on the left of the main - Perron--this will be unlocked. You will find yourself in one of - the chief Corridors which give on the grand Staircase. Remain - there concealed, and await further Orders.' - - - -A strange enough missive, of a truth, and one, no doubt, which would -have made an older and more prudent man pause ere he embarked on so -dubious an adventure. But Gilles de Crohin was neither old nor -prudent, and he was already up to his neck in a sea of adventure -which had begun to submerge his reason. Even before he had folded up -the paper again and slipped it into the inner pocket of his doublet, -he had made up his mind that no power on earth, no wisdom or warning, -would deter him from keeping the tryst. Did I think to remind you -that he was no coxcomb? Well! he certainly was absolutely free from -personal vanity, and it was not his self-conceit which was stimulated -by the mysterious message; rather was it his passion for adventure, -his love for the unforeseen, the unexpected, the exhilarating. The -paper which he hid so tenderly inside his doublet had a delicious -crisp sound about it, which seemed to promise something stimulating -and exciting to come. - -'Run up, Jehan,' he called to his man. 'I follow you. Let me get -out of these damnable slashed and puffed rags--these velvet shoes and -futile furbelows. Up, man! I follow in a trice! We have not done -with adventure yet to-night.' - -Then he turned, with a piece of silver in his hand ready to reward -the bearer of such joyful tidings. But the messenger had disappeared -into the night as quietly, as mysteriously as she had come. - - -II - -Less than half an hour later, Gilles de Crohin once more found -himself within the precincts of the Archiepiscopal Palace. He had -been so quick in changing his clothes and so quick in covering the -distance which separated him from the trysting place, that he had no -occasion to use the postern gate or the small door which had been -indicated to him. The great entrance portals were still wide open -when he arrived; some of the corridors still thronged with -people--guests of Monseigneur and their servants on the point of -departure--whilst others appeared entirely deserted. At one point, -Gilles caught sight of M. de Landas taking elaborate leave of a group -of ladies. He had his usual circle of friends around him, who--a -moment or two later--followed him out of the Palace. - -Gilles, with Jehan close behind him, kept well within the shadows, -away from the throng. He had exchanged his elaborate and rich -costume for a suit that was both plain and sombre; he had washed the -perfume out of his hair and the cosmetics from off his hands. He -felt unfettered in his movements now and in rare good humour. The -only thing which he had borrowed from his former accoutrement was the -magnificent Toledo rapier, which, after a moment's hesitation, he had -buckled into his own sword-belt. It had been a parting gift from -Madame la Reyne de Navarre and was a miracle of the steel-worker's -art; supple as velvet, it would bend point to hilt like a gleaming -arc and when it caught a ray of light upon its perfect edge, it -flashed a thousand coloured rays like a streak of vivid lightning in -a storm-laden sky. - -Jehan, on the other hand, was not altogether at his ease. Having -less cause to feel exhilarated, he had a greater mistrust of the -mysterious missive, had vainly tried to argue prudence where his -master would only hearken to folly. But he had never succeeded in -getting beyond a laboured: 'I th-th-th-think----' Upon which, he was -peremptorily ordered to hold his tongue, even while Messire went -merrily singing to face this questionable adventure. - -At one point Gilles stopped in order to speak to a serving-man, asked -him to tell him where was Monseigneur's private apartments, and when -the man appeared to hesitate--for indeed he did not like to give this -information to a stranger--Messire had seemingly lost his temper, and -the man, trembling in his shoes, had stammered out the necessary -directions. Monseigneur's private apartments and those of the -household were in the right wing of the Palace. This was reached by -mounting the grand staircase, then continuing along the main corridor -which connected the different portions of the vast building, until -the wing containing the living-rooms was reached. No one, the man -went on to explain, slept in this portion of the Palace, which held -only the reception rooms and one of the chapels; but there were -always night-watchmen about the place to see that no malefactors were -about. - -Whilst the man spoke, Jehan felt as if his eyes were searching him -through and through. The worthy soul was liking this adventure less -and less every moment. - -Indeed, very soon after this all the corridors became deserted. -Singly, in pairs, or in groups, all Monseigneur's guests and their -servants had taken their departure. For awhile the varlets and -wenches belonging to the household were busy clearing up the disorder -and the débris attendant on so large a gathering and on so copious a -supper, and one could hear them jabbering and laughing in the distant -dining hall or in the offices down below. Then that noise, too, -became stilled, and one felt that this portion of the vast Palace was -indeed completely uninhabited. - -Up at the Town Hall, the belfry of Martin et Martine had just chimed -the midnight hour. Messire Gilles and his faithful Jehan found -themselves in the vast hall at the foot of the grand staircase, and -the main entrance with its monumental gates was then immediately -behind them. A strange stillness reigned all around: the great -Palace seemed here like a city of the dead. - -Jehan vainly tried to protest once more. For what was Messire -waiting, he wondered. Surely it was unwise and worse to linger here -now, when every one had gone and all servants were abed. Presently, -of course, the night-watchmen would be making their rounds. Jehan -had a swift and exceedingly unpleasant foreboding that he and his -master would be ignominiously turned out! and then God alone knew in -what rows and quarrels they would be involved, or how hopelessly they -would jeopardize their own position; not to speak of the Queen of -Navarre's cherished scheme. Poor Jehan would have given five years -of his life and half his savings for five minutes' glib speech with -his master. - - -III - -Even at this very moment, Jehan's vague terrors took on a definite -form. Footsteps and voices raised in merry converse were heard, -resounding from the distance, and the next instant two serving-men -carrying torches came leisurely down the corridor in the direction of -the hall. Immediately behind them walked Monseigneur the Governor, -who had Madame Jacqueline on his arm. Jehan felt as if his heart had -stopped its beating; his knees shook under him, whilst tiny drops of -perspiration rose at the roots of his hair. - -Ye gods! if they were discovered now! They would be under grave -suspicion of evil intent ... burglary ... assassination.... There -had been talk at the banquet of 'spy' and 'Spaniard.' Jehan's scanty -hair stood up on end with horror. - -Fortunately, Messire was equally aware of danger, gave a quick glance -round, and perceived a door close beside him on the right. This part -of the hall was, equally luckily, in shadow. There was also just -sufficient time to reach the door, to open it, and to step -incontinently behind it, closing it again noiselessly. Phew! it had -been a narrow escape! - -The footsteps and the voices came rapidly nearer; a minute or two -later they passed within a foot of the door behind which Gilles and -Jehan were crouching, hardly daring to breathe. The glint of the -torches could be distinctly seen through a narrow chink between two -panels, as well as the shimmer of Madame's white satin gown. There -were but a few inches of wood and a foot of floor-space between -Messire and shameful discovery, and Maître Jehan fell to wondering -what particular form of torture would be applicable to a man who was -found lurking at dead of night in the dark, and with obviously evil -designs on the life or property of the governor of a Flemish province. - -Thank Heaven and all the protecting angels, however, the footsteps -passed by, and presently were heard ascending the main staircase, and -whilst Maître Jehan was feeling as if his whole body would melt in a -sea of cold perspiration, Madame Jacqueline's rippling laughter came -only as an echo from a considerable and comparatively safe distance. - -After awhile Gilles ventured to open the door very cautiously. A -faint murmur of people stirring came from very far away; the -shuffling footsteps of the torch-bearers died away in the distant -corridors. - -And once more all was still. - - -IV - -Gilles gave vent to his feelings by a long-drawn-out 'Phew!' of -obvious relief; but the next moment he said, quite coolly: - -'Pardi, my good Jehan! but we did not want to be caught hiding in -this place like a couple of malefactors, did we?' and made -straightway to re-open the door. Jehan seized him by the arm and -clung to him with all his might. - -'Why shouldn't we st-st-st-stay here?' he urged almost glibly. - -Gilles shrugged his shoulders. 'Why not, indeed?' he retorted. -'Something has got to happen presently,' he added carelessly. -'Somebody has got to come. If it is not Madame Jacqueline--and, -honestly, my good Jehan, I have small hopes of that--If it is not -Madame, then----' - -He paused and frowned. For the first time a sharp suspicion had -crossed his mind. Had he proved himself to be a vanity-ridden -coxcomb after all? Should not the most elementary prudence have -dictated....? Bah! whatever prudence had dictated, Gilles would not -have listened. He was out for adventure! Whether gallant or -dangerous he did not care! Once more he shrugged his broad shoulders -and unconsciously his slender hand gripped the hilt of his splendid -Spanish sword. - -He threw a quick glance around him. Through the open door, the huge -metal lamps which illumined the hall beyond threw a wide shaft of -golden light into the room where he and Jehan had found such welcome -refuge. It appeared to be something of a boudoir or library, for the -shaft of light revealed rows of books, which lined the walls all -round. There was a window at the far end of the room, and that was -closely curtained, and there was no other door save the one through -which the two men had entered. The fire in the large open hearth had -been allowed to die down. A massive desk stood not far from the -window, and there were a few chairs about and a small, iron-bound -coffer. Papers littered the desk and a finely wrought candelabra -hung from the ceiling. - -'The room,' said Gilles lightly, 'looks as if it had been closed for -the night. There is no reason why we should not await here the -future course of events.' He drew one of the chairs into a -comfortable position and sat down, then added: 'I do not know, of -course, how long we may have to cool our heels in this place, until -the writer of the mysterious epistle chooses to explain his or her -commands. I am beginning to think, as you do, my friend, that the -missive should have been signed with an "L" rather than with a "J". -What say you?' - -'Aye! Aye!' muttered Jehan. - -'Well, 'tis no matter! I'd as soon meet mine ebullient friend of the -languorous eyes to-night as to-morrow, and inside this deserted -Palace as out there in the rain. And a little sword-play would be -very stimulating after the sentimental dalliance of the last few -days.' - -'H'm!' murmured Jehan equivocally. - -'In the meanwhile, there is no reason why we should not have a rest. -I confess to feeling rather sleepy. Just take a last look at the -corridor,' concluded Gilles, as he stretched his long limbs out -before him. 'And if you are satisfied that all is well, come and -join me in an excursion to the land of Nod.' - -Jehan went to the door as he was told and peered cautiously to right -and left of him. Seeing nothing suspicious, he went as far as the -great hall to listen if all was clear and still. It was whilst he -was gone that something arrested Gilles' attention. Furtive -footsteps this time--a number of them--moving stealthily along the -corridor. With a quick gesture, he adjusted the mask over his -face--instinct led him to do that first and foremost; then he jumped -to his feet and went to the door, but had no time to step across the -threshold, for the next instant a compact group of moving figures -emerged straight in front of him out of the gloom, intercepting him -and barring the way. - -'À moi, Jehan!' he called aloud. - -But it was too late. From the hall beyond there came the sound of a -vigorous scuffle. Jehan, caught unawares, was putting up a good -fight seemingly against heavy odds; but he could no longer reach his -master--whilst some half-dozen gentlemen, all wearing masks, were -pushing their way into the room. - -'We've run our fox to earth at last, Messeigneurs,' came with a -mocking laugh from out this dense and aggressive-looking group. 'And -without cooling our heels in the wet--what? I told you that this -would be the better plan. His own egregious vanity hath led him -straight into our trap and 'tis mighty fine sport that we'll have -with this abominable spy, without fear of interruption.' - -It was the voice of M. de Landas, unmistakable owing to the slight -guttural pronunciation of the French language peculiar to his Spanish -blood. Before Gilles could forestall him, he and his friends were -all around him: six of them, fine young gallants--those who had -supported de Landas in the quarrel after the banquet. - -Gilles surveyed them all with a rapid glance, measured his own -position, which of a truth was not an advantageous one. The light -from the lamps in the hall fell, through the open doorway, full upon -him, whilst his aggressors appeared only like a dense mass in the -heart of the shadow. They were evidently intent on forcing him back -into the room; their movements appeared like part of a concerted plan -of action, to get him into a corner where they could more comfortably -hold him at their mercy. - -Gilles realized his position, the danger in which he stood and his -best chance of defence, with the unerring rapidity of a born soldier. - -'It must have taken a huge effort of intelligence, Messire,' he said -ironically, 'to concoct this pretty plan. What was there in an open -challenge to frighten so many stalwart gallants?' - -He gave ground, retreated into the room while he spoke. De Landas -and his friends pressed in closely after him. - -'I have yet to learn,' retorted the young Spaniard with a sneer, -'that you are worthy of crossing swords with one of us. You may -draw, an' you have a mind; but you cannot escape the lesson which I -and my friends have vowed to administer to you, and which, forsooth, -you have so richly deserved.' - -''Tis no use,' he added with an intaking of the breath like an angry -snake, ''Tis no use calling for help. The night-watchmen are in my -pay: my own men have settled with your servant, and no sound short of -an earthquake could reach the distant wing of the Palace where -Monseigneur and his household are abed.' - -He drew his sword, and his friends immediately did likewise. Still -they advanced, the solid phalanx of them, and so cunningly that -Gilles was kept in the shaft of light whilst they remained under -cover of the shadow. - -'A murder!' said Gilles quietly. - -'A lesson, first and foremost,' was de Landas' curt reply. 'After -that, we shall see.' - -'What shall we see, Messire?' riposted Gilles with a mocking laugh. -'A Spanish cavalier stooping to assassination----?' - -'Who spoke of assassination?' queried one of the gallants. - -'Why else are you here?' retorted Gilles, 'the six of you, whilst -half a dozen or more of your varlets are overpowering my man outside, -after ye have bribed or threatened the watchmen into silence? -Methinks it looks uncommonly like projected murder.' - -'Whatever it is,' broke in de Landas savagely, 'it will be a lesson -which you are not like to forget.' - -'The lesson of how to lay an ignoble trap for an unsuspecting foe? A -lesson, indeed, in which the teacher is well-versed in infamy. The -assignation; the forged signature! The watchmen bribed, a dozen of -you to attack two men, and, as you say, the wings of the Palace where -our host and his servants lie abed, well out of earshot. My -compliments, M. de Landas! I have met much knavery in my time, but -none, I think, quite so cleverly devised. France, it seems, hath -still a great deal to learn from Spain, and----' - -He had not yet drawn in response to the other's challenge, but -stepped back and back until he was almost up against the desk at the -far end of the room. Then, suddenly, with a movement so swift that -his antagonists were taken completely unawares, he skipped behind the -desk and with a push of his strong arms threw it down straight at his -assailants, forcing them in their turn to give ground or the massive -piece of furniture would have fallen on the top of them. As it was, -it came to the ground with a crash, the noise as it fell being to a -certain extent subdued by the thickness of the matting which covered -the floor. - -When de Landas and his friends recovered from the suddenness of this -unexpected shock, positions for them were unpleasantly reversed. -They were now in full light, a good target for an experienced -swordsman, whilst Messire le Prince de Froidmont lurked somewhere in -the shadow. Fortunately he was comfortably outnumbered, and his -henchman quite helpless by now; to disarm him and give him the long -promised chastisement was only a question of time. - -'And I have sworn,' cried de Landas spitefully, 'to deposit at Madame -Jacqueline's feet the mask which still hides his impudent face.' - -Gilles, however, was determined to sell his life or his discomfiture -dearly. He had not been slow in consolidating his new position. -Losing not one second of precious time, he drew the overthrown desk -close to him, picked up a couple of chairs that were close by, then -reached out for two or three more, piled these up over and around the -desk, and by the time de Landas and his crowd had recovered their -bearings and returned to the attack, he was magnificently ensconced -behind a barricade of heaped-up furniture, and, having drawn his -sword, was ready for defence. - -'Now, Messeigneurs,' he said with those same mocking tones which had -already exasperated de Landas beyond endurance, 'see to it that you -escape well-merited chastisement; for, on my oath, I swear that 'tis -I who will deposit half a dozen masks at Madame Jacqueline's feet ere -I give you a chance of carrying out that nice little murder plot -which was destined to cover six stalwart seigneurs with glory.' - -De Landas gave a harsh laugh. - -'Your ruse will not protect you,' he said, 'though I confess 'twas -well manoeuvred. À moi, friends! 'Twill not be the first time that -you have aided me in extirpating noisome vermin from its hidden -burrow. You, La Broye, and du Prêt, hold the right; Herlaer and -Maarege the left; de Borel, you and I wherever we are needed, and en -avant. At him, friends! No barricade on earth nor protecting -darkness shall save him from the punishment which he hath so richly -deserved. At him, and unmask the rogue, so that I can at last smite -the impudent spy in the face!' - -De Borel, young, impetuous, a fiery nincompoop, easily led by the -nose by his more brilliant friend, was not slow in following the lead -given him. He and Herlaer made a swift rush for the improvised -barricade whilst de Landas attacked in the centre and the others, -with equal vigour, both on right and left. They thrust their swords -somewhat wildly through the interstices provided by the legs of the -chairs which towered above the overturned desk, lunged blindly into -the darkness, for they could not see their opponent. For a few -minutes all was confusion--the din of clashing steel, the hoarse -cries of the assailants, and Gilles' ironical taunts as he parried -all these aimless thrusts with the coolness of a consummate -swordsman--all merged into a chaotic uproar. The next moment, -however, Herlaer went down, and then de Borel, each with a deep gash -in the leg, which had ripped up the flesh from the ankle to midway up -the calf. - -The front of the desk happened to be kidney-shaped, and it was -through the aperture formed by that front as it lay on its beam end -that Gilles' sword had suddenly darted out once and then again, like -some vicious snake, with maddening rapidity and stealth, inflicting -the sharp flesh wounds which had so disconcerted his assailants. -They, entirely taken unawares, irritated by this attack from a wholly -unforeseen quarter, not only fell back with some precipitancy, but -also with a marked cooling off of their primary ardour. They had -come straight from a festive gathering, were wearing silk hose and -low shoes of velvet, and at this moment were wishing that their -ankles had been protected by substantial leather boots. Somewhat -sulkily they set to to staunch their wounds with their lace-edged -handkerchiefs. De Landas watched them with a scowl, giving the while -a short respite to his opponent--the latter, of a truth, well -ensconced behind his barricades, was more difficult to get at than -had at first been supposed. - -There ensued a hasty council of war. Herlaer, limping, was -despatched for reinforcements. The varlets who had effectually dealt -with Jehan might as well come and lend a hand to dress their masters' -wounds. Jehan, indeed, lay prone upon the flagstones of the hall, -having apparently succumbed to a blow on the head, of which one of -those same varlets was even now boasting with inordinate vainglory to -his companions, when they were all incontinently called away to -attend upon the young seigneurs. - -De Landas in the meanwhile had returned to the assault. Leaving -Herlaer and de Borel in the hands of their henchmen, he called the -others lustily to him. - -'À moi, du Prêt, Maarege, La Broye!' he cried. 'Beware of the fox's -underground burrow, and en avant!' - -He had espied the small coffer, seized it by one of its handles and -dragged it across the floor. Aided by Maarege, they succeeded in -placing it in position so as to block the aperture below the -barricade. Now there was no longer any danger from that quarter; the -enemy was getting foiled at every turn. And with renewed valour they -once more rushed to the assault. - -Gilles now was on his feet, ensconced in the angle of the wall, so as -to allow his sword arm full play; and indeed, in his skilful hands -the magnificent Toledo blade seemed like a living, breathing thing--a -tongue of steel which darted in and out of the improvised barricade, -forward, to right, to left, parry, en garde, thrust, lunge--out of -the darkness, now and then only catching a glint of light upon its -smooth surface, when it would flash and gleam like a streak of vivid -lightning, to subside again, retire, disappear into the gloom, only -to dart out again more menacing, more invincible than before. - -And every time that this tongue of living flame shot out of the -darkness it left its searing trail behind. Maarege was bleeding from -the shoulder, du Prêt from the thigh; La Broye had a gash across the -forehead, and de Landas' forearm was torn from the wrist to the -elbow. On the other hand, de Landas' sword was also stained with -blood. He gave a cry of triumph. - -'À moi, de Borel! Herlaer!' he called to the other two. 'At the -barricades, while we keep the rogue busy. He cannot hold out much -longer!' - -And, indeed, the combat was far too unequal to last. One man against -six, and his only ally was the darkness. That too was failing him, -for his assailants' eyes were becoming accustomed to the gloom. They -were able to descry him more easily than before, and there was not a -mean swordsman amongst them, either. Even now, under cover of a -vigorous onslaught made by de Landas and his three seconds, de Borel -and Herlaer--their wounds temporarily dressed--rushed for the -barricade and dragged first one chair and then the other away, and -finally succeeded in throwing the two others right into Gilles' legs, -thus hampering the freedom of his movements. True, that during this -rapidly executed manoeuvre, de Borel received a gash across the cheek -and Herlaer a thrust in the arm; but the solitary fighter's position -had been rendered decidedly more precarious. - -'Throw up your hands, you fool!' exclaimed de Landas with grudging -admiration at his opponent's swordsmanship. 'Unmask, and go your -way, and we will call quits over this affair!' - -Gilles' only reply to the taunt was an ironical laugh. The chairs -encumbered his legs, but his sword arm was free, and he had once been -counted the finest swordsman in France. Attack and parry again, -thrust and en garde--six blades menaced him, and he, ensconced in the -dark angle, kept the six of them at bay! Now du Prêt's sword, with a -vigorous blow, was knocked clean out of his hand; anon Maarege's -blade was broken in two close to the hilt. - -Confusion now reigned supreme. Fight and excitement had whipped up -the blood of all these young gallants till a perfect fury of hatred -for the invincible opponent drew a blood-red, veil-like mist before -their eyes. The frantic desire to kill was upon them; their wounds -no longer ached, their arms felt no weariness; the breath came with a -hissing sound through their quivering nostrils. Now Maarege and La -Broye succeeded in further demolishing the barricade, dragging away -the table, overthrowing the chairs, making the way clear to right and -left of these for a concerted attack upon the foe. Gilles, quick as -a bird that scents an attack, skipped over the obstacle, darted to -the right, where the curtained window was, and shadows still hung -dark, almost impenetrable. - -Already he was en garde again, close to the window this time--seemed -still fresh and full of vigour though bleeding from more than one -wound. He loved this fight, as a hungry man loves the first morsel -of food which a kindly hand places before him; loved it for its -excitement--one of the keenest he had ever sustained. De Landas' -fury stimulated him, maddened jealousy was so obviously its -mainspring; and Gilles felt as if he were fighting for the possession -of Jacqueline. His fine Toledo blade filled him with joy--at this -very moment it pierced de Borel's thigh as easily as it would have -done a pat of butter. - -'There's for one of you!' exclaimed Gilles in triumphant exhilaration. - -De Borel was now out of action, and La Broye was weakening -perceptibly; but du Fret had recovered his sword and Maarege was -brandishing the broken stump of his rapier, whilst de Landas, drunk -with jealousy and with rage, returned to the assault again and again, -heedless of his wounds. The room was a mass of wreckage. Overturned -furniture, broken débris, scraps of silken doublets and velvet -mantles, shoulder knots, tassels and bits of priceless lace, littered -the floor; the matting in places showed dark crimson stains and had -become slippery under the ceaseless tramp of feet. With his -barricade all tumbled about him, Gilles was more open to attack, for -there were still four of them at least against him, and they pressed -him closely enough just now. - -'At him, friends!' de Landas contrived to shout, in a voice rendered -husky with exhaustion. 'At him! The rogue is weakening rapidly! -One more effort, and we have him!' - -'Nay, by God! Ye have not!' exclaimed Gilles lustily, and parried -with dazzling skill an almost simultaneous attack from de Landas and -Herlaer on one side and Maarege and du Prêt on the other. They fell -on him with redoubled energy, wellnigh frenzied by the seeming -invincibility of their foe, their own impotence. They had thought to -make sure of victory, had come in their numbers to administer -humiliation and correction, and now were half crazy with impending -defeat. And so vigorous became their attack, so determined were they -to bring that hated foe to his knees, that it seemed for the moment -as if he must succumb, as if only some sort of magic could save him. - -But for a man of Gilles' temperament there could be no such thing as -defeat. Defeat for him meant humiliation, which he could not -tolerate, and the failure of Madame la Reyne's cherished plan. He -was not only defending his life now, but her schemes and her -happiness. His perfect blade accomplished miracles of defence; again -and again his enemies returned to the charge. But that blade lived; -it breathed; it palpitated with every thrust and every parry, swifter -than lightning's flash. Now it was du Prêt's turn to stagger under a -slashing cut on the shoulder, whilst La Broye was almost swooning -with loss of blood. - -'For two! And for three!' cried Gilles with a laugh. 'Three more of -you, and I have done!' - -With a cry of rage de Landas turned to the serving-men who, appalled -by the fury of this combat, were cowering together in a far corner of -the room, hardly daring to breathe. - -'Here, Jan!' he shouted hoarsely. 'Peter! Nikolas! All of you! -Seize that man! Fall on him! Seize him! At him! At him, I say!' - -For just the fraction of a second the men shrank away still further -into the angle of the room, terrified at the uncontrolled rage which -had prompted the monstrous and cowardly command. They hesitated but -only for one instant, and during that instant there was breathing -time for all. But the next, egged on by de Landas' threatening -commands, they gathered themselves together and came forward at a -rush. - -Gilles at once saw this new, this unexpected source of danger. The -utter cowardice of this fresh attack lent him strength and power to -act. With one of those swift, masterful gestures of his which were -as unexpected as they were unerring, he threw aside his sword and -seizing one of the heavy chairs which lay prone close by, he raised -it above his head and brandishing it like a gigantic swivel he stood -there, towering, menacing, breathing hatred too now against the -dastardly foe who could thus outrage every canon of chivalry and of -valour. - -He struck out with the heavy chair, to right, to left. The varlets -paused, really terrified. De Landas egged them on, prodded them with -his sword. He had wandered so far now on the broad road of infamy, -he was ready to go on to its ignominious end. - -'Fall on him, Jan! Nikolas! All of you, you abominable knaves!' he -cried huskily. 'Fall on him; or by Satan, I'll have you all hanged -to-morrow!' - -He beat them with the flat of his sword, kicked them and struck at -them with his fist, till they were forced to advance. The heavy -chair came down with a crash on the head of one man, the shoulder of -another. There were loud curses and louder groans; but numbers were -telling in the end. One more assault, one more rush, and they were -on him. Then Gilles, as if by instinct, felt the folds of the heavy -window curtain behind him. - -To gain one second's time, he threw the chair straight at the compact -mass of men, disconcerting the attack; then with both hands he seized -the curtain, gave it a mighty wrench which brought it down in a -heaped up medley of voluminous folds and broken cornice, and threw -the whole mass of tangled drapery on his onrushing foes. De Landas, -who was in the forefront of the aggressors, was the first to lose his -footing. Already weak with loss of blood, he stumbled and fell, -dragging one or two of the varlets with him. The edge of the cornice -struck du Prêt on the head and completed the swoon which had already -been threatening him, whilst Maarege, dazed, uncomprehending, stared -about him in a state of semi-imbecility. - -The other knaves, paralysed by some kind of superstitious fear, gazed -on him open-mouthed while Gilles, still moved only by the blind -instinct of self-preservation, extricated himself from his -newly-improvised stronghold. - -His first instinctive act was to stoop in order to pick up his sword -again. A momentary lull--strange and weird in its absolute stillness -had succeeded the wild confusion of awhile ago. Gilles staggered as -he straightened out his tall figure once more, was at last conscious -that even his splendid endurance had been nigh to breaking point. -There was a mist before his eyes, through which he could vaguely -perceive a cowering group of lacqueys quite close to him, huddled up -together almost at his feet in the gloom; others, whose vague forms -could be discerned under the fallen tapestry: further on, de Borel, -lying helpless beside Herlaer; Maarege still clutching his broken -sword; La Broye in a swoon, lying across the upturned desk, and de -Landas, half-sitting, half-reclining, on an overthrown chair, -obviously struggling against dizziness, his hand outstretched, with -convulsed fingers that still threatened and pointed at the hated foe. - -For the moment Gilles could not move. The mask on his face scorched -his brow and cheeks as if it had been made of hot iron, and yet, -though he longed to tear it off, his arm, from sheer exhaustion, -refused him service. He longed to get out of that door, to find -Jehan; but his limbs felt as if they were weighted with lead: his -very brain was in a state of torpor. - - -V - -Just then, through that semi-conscious state, he heard swift -footsteps approaching down the main staircase, then across the hall. -The serving-men, almost blind with terror, heard them too, crouched -yet closer together in the gloom. They dragged themselves along the -floor, nearer to Gilles, as if for protection. Experience had taught -the poor wretches that, whatever else happened, they would be made to -suffer for all that had occurred. True, they deserved all that they -would get, for they too had played an ignoble part; but whatever else -happened there would be floggings or worse for them. Their employers -were too weak now to protect them even if they would. M. le Marquis, -enraged at defeat, would perhaps be the first to give his men away. -So they gathered round Gilles now--round the man whom they had helped -almost to murder. They clung to him in their sheer, unreasoning -cowardice--the instinct to get behind something that was still -stalwart and strong. They crawled away into the shadow, out of sight -of Monseigneur's serving-men if these should come, of the -night-watchmen or of the Palace guard if they appeared upon the scene. - -Thus Gilles, when he tried to move towards the door, could not do so -because of that cringing mass of humanity that clung, -terror-stricken, round his legs. He was too utterly weary to kick -them all aside, so he remained quite still, listening to those -approaching footsteps. One of these he could have sworn to--heavy, -and with a slight dragging of the feet--which could only have -belonged to Jehan. He tried to call to his faithful henchman, but -his throat was so dry he could not utter a sound. - -The footsteps were quite close now, and through the open doorway he -could see that a new and flickering light threw every nook of the -corridor into bold relief. A torch-bearer was coming along; other -lighter footsteps followed, and anon it seemed as if a woman's satin -skirts swept the marble floor with its melodious frou-frou. - -Gilles now was in a trance-like state on the borders of -unconsciousness, a state wherein the body's utter exhaustion seems to -render the mental perceptions abnormally acute. He could only stand -and gaze at the open doorway; but he knew that in a very few seconds -she would appear. He knew that it was she who was coming: she and -Jehan. Old Jehan had found her and brought her along, and now that -he--Gilles--was weary and sick she would minister to him and tend him -as she had done that night, long ago, in what still seemed to him so -like a dream. - -The next moment the second half of the folding door was flung open -and a torch, held aloft by a serving-man, threw a flood of light into -the room. Immediately afterwards, under the lintel of the door, -Jacqueline appeared, just as Gilles had expected her to do, like a -vision of the angel of peace, in her shimmering white satin gown, -with the pearls round her neck and her crown of golden hair. She had -no mask on, and even through the veil which seemed to hang before -Gilles' eyes he could see that tantalizing little brown mole which -gave such exquisite, roguish charm to her face and made of the angel -vision a living, perfect piece of adorable womanhood. - -Jacqueline de Broyart was not the sort of woman who would faint at -sight of blood. Her country had suffered too much and too long for -her to have remained ignorant and detached from all the horrors which -perpetual warfare against tyranny and intolerance had sowed broadcast -upon the land. She had ministered to the sick and tended, the -wounded ever since her baby hands had been strong enough to apply a -bandage. But at sight of this disordered room, of the ghastly faces -of these men--ghastly above their blood-stained masks--of de Landas' -weird, convulsive gesture, of Maarege's attitude of vacant -imbecility, of all the litter of stained floor and soiled bits of -finery, she recoiled with an involuntary cry of horror. The recoil, -however, was only momentary; the next, she had come forward quickly, -a cry of pity this time upon her lips. Her first thought was for de -Landas--the friend, the playmate, the lover. She hurried to him, -hardly looked on Gilles, who could not move or call, who tried not to -stagger or to fall headlong at her feet. - -Now Jacqueline had her arms round her lover, his head rested against -her shoulder, soiling the white satin of her gown with ugly crimson -stains. But that she did not heed. She could not conjecture what -had happened! That stuttering, stammering creature, himself half -dazed and bruised, had found his way to Monseigneur's living-room, -had in incoherent language implored her to come. Monseigneur -happened to be absent from the room at the moment, had gone to give -orders to one of his servants. Jacqueline was alone, sitting by the -hearth waiting for him when the creature came. She knew him for the -henchman of the Prince de Froidmont, the man who had fought so -valiantly to defend his master awhile ago in the banqueting hall. -She could see that he was hurt and in grave distress and gathered -from his confused stammer that something awful was happening -somewhere in the Palace. She followed him without any hesitation, -and now through that medley of hideous sights which confronted her in -this room, the most vivid thing that struck her gaze was de Landas' -convulsive gesture, pointing at Gilles. - -Already, with a few quick words, she had despatched the torchbearer -for assistance. - -'Go, Anselm!' she said, 'and rouse Nicolle and two of my women. Tell -them some gentlemen are hurt and that I order them to come hither at -once and to bring all that is necessary for the dressing of wounds. -And--stay!' she added in a tone of peremptory command. 'Not a word -to Monseigneur or to his men--you understand?' - -The man nodded in quick comprehension, fixed the torch into the -wall-bracket and went. As soon as he had gone Jacqueline turned back -to de Landas, pillowed his aching head upon her bosom and held his -poor, trembling hand in her strong, warm grasp. Then only did she -turn to look on Gilles. - -He appeared unhurt, or nearly so. True, his doublet was stained--he -might have received a scratch--and he bore about his person that -unmistakable air of a fighting man who has been in the thick of a -fight; but amongst these other fallen and fainting men he alone was -standing--and standing firmly, on his feet. And he had a group of -men around him, all of whom were quite obviously unhurt. They looked -like his henchmen, for they crowded close behind him, looking up to -him as to their master. - -So, whatever had happened--and Jacqueline gave an involuntary shudder -at the thoughts and conjectures which were crowding into her -brain--whatever else had happened, the stranger had had plenty of -minions and varlets with him to defend him, even if he had been set -upon by de Landas and his friends. - -It were easy to blame Jacqueline for the utterly false interpretation -which she had put on what she saw; but de Landas was the friend, the -playmate, and--yes!--the lover; whilst Gilles was only a stranger and -an adventurer at best. Strangers were both feared and hated these -days in this unfortunate, stricken country, that was tyrannized over -and cowed by conquerors of alien blood; and though Jacqueline was -shrewd enough to suspect de Landas and his companions of the -treachery which they had indeed committed, yet in her mind she -half-excused him on the plea that the Prince de Froidmont had been -unchivalrous and timid enough to have his person guarded by a gang of -paid varlets. Thus it was that the look which she threw on Gilles -was both contemptuous and unpitying. - -'I pray you, Messire,' she said coldly, 'to leave my guardian's -house, ere I call to him to demand of you an explanation which I -imagine you are not prepared to give.' - -Her words, her look, were so different to what Gilles had expected -that, for the moment, he remained absolutely speechless. He -certainly had not his wits entirely about him, or he would not, after -that one moment of silence, have burst into a harsh and prolonged -laugh. - -'Messire!' reiterated Jacqueline, more peremptorily, 'I have desired -you to go, and to take your varlets along with you, ere they swoon -with the excess of their terror.' - -'Your varlets!' Gilles laughed more loudly than before--indeed, he -felt that he could no longer stop himself from laughing now until he -dropped down dead on the floor. Jacqueline was leaning over de -Landas and saying something to him which he--Gilles--could not very -well hear, but her whole attitude, the look wherewith she regarded -the wounded man, sent such a pang of insensate jealousy through -Gilles' heart that he could have groaned aloud with the misery of it. - -'I entreat you, my beloved,' de Landas murmured more audibly after -awhile, 'to go back to your apartments. This is no place for you, -and my friends and I will struggle homewards anon.' - -'I cannot leave you like this, José!' she broke in firmly. 'Not -while--while that man and his varlets are here!' - -Ye gods! the humour of the situation! No wonder that Gilles could -not cease laughing, even though his side ached and his head felt like -splitting with pain. But he obeyed her commands, peremptorily -ordered the cowering group of knaves to go; and they, thankful to -escape, rushed helter-skelter for the door. Probably they never -understood what the noble lady had been saying, and they were too -stupid with terror to say aught in protest. Whether M. le Marquis de -Landas, who had employed them for this night's work, would pay them -liberally on the morrow, as he had promised, or have them flogged for -failing to murder the stranger, still remained to be seen. For the -moment, they were only too thankful to escape with their skins whole. -Jehan, who much against his will had been forced to remain at -attention behind the door, relieved his feelings by giving each of -them a vigorous kick ere they started to run madly down the corridor. - -While the last of them was stumbling over the threshold Gilles -managed to pull himself together sufficiently to stop that paroxysm -of ungovernable laughter. - -'Have no fear, Madame,' he contrived to say with moderate coherence -and a full measure of contemptuous irony, 'I'll not harm M. le -Marquis de Landas or his five gallant friends, on mine honour! All -that remains for me to do now is to collect the half-dozen masks -which I swore awhile ago to place as a trophy at your feet.' - -'I forbid you, Messire,' she retorted coldly, 'to pursue this callous -jest any further.' - -'Jest? It was no jest, Madame! I swore to unmask these gentlemen, -and----' - -'And took good care to protect yourself against their wrath by a -crowd of ruffianly bullies! The victory--if, indeed, there be -one--doth not redound to the credit of Messire le Prince de -Froidmont.' - -'Even so, I must redeem my pledge,' he riposted in a tone quite as -cool now as hers. 'So, by your leave----' - -She watched him, fascinated--somewhat like a hare might watch the -playful antics of a tiger--with blue eyes opened wide in wonder and -horror, as he went lightly from one man to the other and with deft -fingers removed their masks, then threaded them by the eye-slits -along the length of his sword. De Borel never moved--he was quite -unconscious, and La Broye only groaned and tried to turn away. But -both Herlaer and du Prêt struggled in feeble self-defence, and -Maarege, still clutching his broken rapier, made futile efforts to -lunge at Gilles. But they too were faint from exhaustion and loss of -blood, and Gilles, who had himself well in hand, had strength enough -for his self-imposed task. Jacqueline never moved. Protests against -this outrage were obviously of no avail, and physically she had not -the strength to intervene. But when he finally turned to de Landas, -she interposed with all her might, with the motherly instinct of a -bird, striving to protect its mate. - -'I forbid you, Messire!' she cried. - -But even before the words were out of her mouth, de Landas with a -hoarse cry of pent-up rage had struggled to his feet. With convulsed -hands he fell heavily on Gilles, gripping him by the throat. -Jacqueline could not suppress the cry of horror which rose to her -lips: these two wounded men, one of them in the last stages of -exhaustion, fighting and tearing, at grips with one another, like -beasts convulsed in a desperate struggle for life. - -But that same struggle could not help but be brief. De Landas was -vanquished even before his last futile effort had fully matured. A -minute or two later he was on his knees. Gilles held him down with -one hand and with the other detached the mask from his face. He had -thrown down his sword when de Landas attacked him with his hands. -The row of masks had slid down the blade; they now lay in a mass upon -the matting, right at Jacqueline's feet. De Landas' mask went to -join the rest, and Gilles coolly picked up his sword. The light from -the torch was full on him. Jacqueline still watched him, speechless -and fascinated. It seemed as if she could not detach her eyes from -him--his masked face, his broad shoulders, his hands; above all, his -hands--the left one wherewith he tossed de Landas' mask at her feet; -and the right, which clutched that exquisitely fashioned rapier with -so much conscious power. - -In a vague, dreamy kind of way, she noted how slender and nervy were -those hands, despite their outward roughness and toil-worn look--the -hands of a soldier, very obviously. The Prince de Froidmont must -have been in many a bloody fray; had been wounded too on the left -wrist--a severe cut. The scar gleamed white against the bronzed hue -of the flesh. Jacqueline gazed on, strangely stirred. The scar was -a very peculiar one, shaped like a cross, and at the time must almost -have severed the wrist from the arm. She only remembered having once -seen a similar wound, which must have left just such a peculiar scar. -That was some three years ago, after that awful fight near Gembloux. -Her brother Jan, since dead, was at the time lying sick at the -monastery close by. She had wandered out for a breath of fresh air, -feeling weary and desperately anxious. She was a mere child then, -just past her sixteenth year. Outside the postern gate she and -Nicolle had espied a soldier, lying wounded and unconscious on the -ground. Nicolle had gone for help and two of the good monks had -carried the poor man into the monastery. The leech who waited on Jan -had tended him, and afterwards Jacqueline had ordered him to be -transported back on the abandoned battle-field, where mayhap his -comrades would presently find him; and she had seen that he was -provided with food and with a pitcher of water, for she had been so -sorry--so very sorry for him. - -All that had happened three years ago, and Jacqueline had never -thought on the matter again until now. Strange that the scar on -Messire le Prince de Froidmont's wrist should so remind her of that -little incident which had occurred in the monastery near Gembloux. -Strange also that Messire should stand before her now and be -searching her face with that intent glance of his, which she could -feel right through the slits of his mask. He caught her looking at -him so inquiringly and she straightway averted her gaze; but not -before she had noted that with a quick gesture he had suddenly pulled -the sleeve of his doublet well over his hand. - -Gilles abruptly made for the door. But close to the threshold he -turned and looked once more on Jacqueline. He could no longer see -her face now, for she was stooping to de Landas, supporting him with -her strong young arms. She had given one glance at the half-dozen -masks which lay there on the floor where he had thrown them down. -One or two were stained, others torn. She gave a shudder of horror -and buried her face on de Landas' shoulder! Gilles could see that at -sight of those things she had at last given way to tears and that -convulsive sobs were shaking her lovely shoulders. - -He felt a miserable brute--a callous ruffian who, for the sake of -despicable vainglory, had done just the last thing that broke down -this valiant woman's magnificent fortitude. A wave of self-contempt -swept over him. He had meant to justify himself, to tell her that, -far from being a common braggart who employed paid spadassins to save -his own skin, he and his one faithful henchman had been set upon by -her lover and his friends aided by half a dozen varlets to boot. He -had meant to challenge de Landas to deny this truth, to force an -avowal from his lips or from those of the young coxcombs who had -played such a cowardly rôle in this night's work. - -Yes, he had meant her to know the truth--the truth which would have -shown her her lover and her friends in their true light. But when he -saw those exquisite shoulders shaken with sobs, when he heard the -pitiful little moans which at last found their way to her lips, he -felt that he could not add yet another sorrow to the heavy burden -which was weighing that golden head down. Now he was something of a -knave in her sight; if she learned the truth from his lips he would -become a cur in his own. - -And, bidding Jehan to follow him, Gilles de Crohin hurried out of the -room. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -HOW TWO LETTERS CAME TO BE WRITTEN - - -I - - - 'Madam la Reyne,' wrote Gilles the self-same night ere he laid - down to rest, 'I entreat you to seek out Monseigneur le duc - d'Anjou at once. Matters have occurred which might endanger the - whole Success of this Enterprise. Madame Jacqueline is - beautiful, exquisite, the most perfect Woman that ever graced a - princely husband's house. So let Monseigneur come at once, - Madame la Reyne, at once, I beg of you most humbly! and do - entreat you to send me word by Maître Jehan when I may expect him. - - 'I am, your Majesty's - 'Most Obedient and Most Faithful Servant, - 'Gilles de Crohin.' - - - -He felt more calm, more at peace with himself when he had written -this letter, and allowed Jehan now to undress him and to attend to -his wounds. They were not serious, certainly not so serious as many -others which he had sustained in the past and recovered from without -much trouble. But, somehow, this time he felt in a fever, the paltry -scratches seemed unaccountably to throb, and his temples ached nigh -to splitting. - -Jehan, stolid and disapproving, pulled off his master's boots, took -off doublet and hose with care and dexterity, but without making any -attempt at conversation. What went on behind his low, square -forehead could easily be conjectured: a towering rage against his own -halting speech, which had prevented his proclaiming the truth before -Madame Jacqueline, warred with a certain vague terror that Messire -was angered with him for having brought Madame upon the scene. - -But Messire apparently was too tired to scold. With unusual meekness -he allowed Jehan to wash and dress that cut he had in the shoulder, -and the one which had penetrated the fleshy part of his thigh. -Maître Jehan was skilful in such matters. His father had been an -apothecary at Grenoble and had taught the youngster something of the -art of drugs and simples, until the latter's roving disposition had -driven him to seeking fortune abroad. He still knew, however, how to -minister to a wounded man, how to stem the flow of blood, and apply -healing bandages. All this he did now in silence, and with the -loving care engendered by his passionate affection for the master -whom he served, the friend to whom he owed his life. - -And all the while Gilles lay quite quiescent, so passive and patient -that Jehan felt he must be very sick. Anger, self-contempt, -self-reproach, had brought a heavy frown between his brows. -Jacqueline's adorable image gave him a heart-ache more difficult to -bear than any physical pain. For a long while he kept his eyes -resolutely closed, in order to shut out the vision of a golden head -and a demure, tantalizing face, which seemed to mock at him from out -the dark angle of the room. It was only when Jehan had finished his -ministrations and in his turn was ready to go to bed that he woke -once more to the realities of life. - -'Thou art a good soul, Jehan,' he murmured, with the first return to -well-being brought about by the good fellow's restoratives. - -'And you a mightily foolish one!' thought Jehan within himself, while -he merely stuttered a moody: 'Aye--aye!' - -'To-morrow morning,' continued Gilles; 'or rather, this morning--for -'tis past midnight now--thou'lt start for La Fère----' - -'F-f-f-for La F-f-f----' - -'For La Fère. Thou'lt take thy safe-conduct and this letter which I -have just written for Madame la Reyne de Navarre.' - -'B-b-b-but----' - -'Hold thy tongue till I have finished. If Madame la Reyne hath -perchance left La Fère, thou'lt follow her whithersoever she may have -gone.' - -'And if-f-f-f----' - -'There is no "if" about the matter, my good Jehan,' quoth Gilles with -a sigh and in a tone of unwonted firmness. 'Thou must find Madame la -Reyne, and if she be not in La Fère then thou must follow her to -Paris, or to Pau, or to the outermost ends of the earth; for Madame -la Reyne must have my letter as soon as ever possible or the -consequences for her, for me, for us all would be disastrous.' - -Jehan made no further attempt at conversation. He only nodded his -head in obedience and understanding. - -'Madame la Reyne,' continued Gilles after a moment's pause, 'will, I -doubt not, send me a letter in reply. I need not tell thee, Jehan, -to guard both my letter and her reply with thy life.' - -'N-n-no!' said Jehan with sudden glibness. 'You n-n-need not -t-t-tell me that.' - -'The letter would give us all away if it fell in alien hands. It -must be destroyed, and thou too, honest Jehan, ere it leave thy -hands.' - -Jehan made a sign of comprehension, which Gilles evidently -understood, for he continued more easily: - -'Then get some rest now, Jehan, for thou must start as soon after -daybreak as possible. And in God's name,' he added with a weary -sigh, 'return with the answer within the week, or maybe thou'lt find -my body rotting upon the gallows somewhere in the town.' - -Jehan shrugged his wide shoulders. This meant that he thought his -master must be slightly delirious, else he would never have spoken -such rubbish. He took the letter which Gilles had folded into as -small a compass as possible, and slipped it underneath his doublet -and his shirt, against his skin. Then he tapped his breast and -looked reassuringly on his master. Gesture and look conveyed all -that he desired, and Gilles was satisfied. - -He knew that he could trust Jehan as he would himself. With a final -sigh which was almost one of content, he turned over on his side and -went to sleep. - - -II - -But faithful Jehan le Bègue did not go to sleep that night. Not -until the late hours of the morning did he do that, and by then he -was half a league away out of Cambray. As soon as he had seen his -master lying in comparative comfort, he picked up the guttering -candle and, walking cautiously on the tips of his toes, he went -downstairs. Immediately under the stairs there was a narrow -cupboard, and here upon the bare boards, rolled up In a blanket, -Maître Julien was wont to sleep--of late with one eye open and one -ear ready prepared to catch the slightest sound, since his -liege-lady, the exquisite Queen of Navarre, had constituted him the -guardian of Monseigneur le Prince de Froidmont. - -Even now, at the first sound of those cautious footsteps, Julien was -awake, and when, a minute or two later, Jehan peered into the narrow -cupboard, he met the youth's eyes staring at him, glowing with that -look of alertness and wariness which is peculiar to small animals at -bay. He had raised himself on his elbow, but Jehan could see that -underneath the ragged coverlet Julien's hand was grasping a pistol. - -'F-f-f-friend,' he stuttered in a gruff whisper, 'g-g-get up. -M-m-monseigneur's service,' he added significantly. - -In a trice Julien was up. - -'What is it?' - -Jehan made several animated gestures, indicative of writing. - -'Follow me,' rejoined Julien briefly. - -He took the candle from Jehan and together the two men went into the -room opposite, which served as taproom for the few guests who -honoured 'Les Trois Rois' with their custom. - -There was a long, narrow table at one end of the room. On this -Julien placed the candle; then from a small cupboard in the wall he -took paper, pen, sand and inkhorn, and placed these also upon the -table. - -There ensued then a long, whispered consultation between these two -men. Julien with infinite patience gradually drew from Maître Jehan, -bit by bit, almost word for word what he required. Ah! if Maître -Jehan could only have put his wishes down on paper, matters would -have been quite easy; but calligraphy was one of the arts which that -worthy had never mastered in his youth, and which he certainly had -not practised for the past twenty years. But what knowledge could -not accomplish, that a boundless devotion on both sides contrived to -do this night. Perspiration stood out in great beads upon Jehan's -forehead, there was a deep frown of perplexity upon his brow as he -stammered out laborious instructions to Julien. There was a strong -vein of dogged obstinacy in his composition and a certain sound was -still ringing in his ear, which spurred him to desperate efforts to -make himself understood. It was the sound of Messire's weird -laugh--harsh and uncontrolled--when Madame had taunted him with -having a number of paid ruffians round him to help him in the fight -against all those noble assassins. Paid ruffians, forsooth! Madame -should know the truth, even if Maître Jehan's brain gave way under -the terrible strain of making that cheesy-faced Julien understand -what he wanted. - -And Julien, intent, ghastly pale in his eagerness, listened with ear -and mind and eyes and every sense strained to breaking point, to find -sense and coherence in Jehan's stammering. For two hours these two -men sat face to face with the guttering candle between them, glaring -into one another's face, as if each would tear out the other's -innermost brain and knead it to his will. - -But at last Julien understood. By dint of broken monosyllables and -emphatic gestures, Jehan had made it clear to him what had happened, -and Julien, suddenly motioning the other to be silent, was at last -able to put pen to paper. - - - - 'Most noble and gracious Seigneur,' he wrote, 'the writer is only - a poor servant and you are a great and Puissant Lord; but I will - tell you the Truth about what happened this night. Messire was - set upon by six Noblemen, and the Writer was set upon by six - Knaves. Messire was taken unawares and so was I. I feigned dead - dog because I wanted to go and fetch help. Then the knaves were - called away to help in the Murder of Messire, and I went to call - Madame. Twelve against two, Monseigneur! Was that right? And - Messire fought them all single-handed. This is the truth so help - me God and I am Monseigneur's - - 'Most humble and obedient Servant, - 'Jehan: servant to Monseigneur le Prince de Froidmont.' - - -When Julien had finished writing the letter he read it through aloud -to Jehan three times; then, when the latter expressed himself -completely satisfied with it, he folded it and Jehan slipped it -inside his doublet, beside the one which Messire had given him. - -After which, he took up the candle again and bade Maître Julien -'good-night.' He did not thank Julien, because he knew quite well -that what the latter had done had given him infinite happiness to do. -Every gesture, every look in the young man's face had proclaimed that -happiness. In serving Monseigneur le Prince de Froidmont, he had -indirectly served the goddess whom he worshipped from afar. His pale -face still irradiated with joy, he went back to his poor, hard bed, -to dream that She was smiling on him for his devotion to Her wishes. - -And Jehan went straightway to his master's room. - - -III - -The pale rays of a wintry moon came creeping in through the narrow -casement-window. A lovely night had succeeded the drenching rain of -awhile ago. Messire lay quite still upon his bed, but when Jehan -crept close up to him he saw that his eyes were wide open. - -'What's the matter, Jehan?' Gilles asked, when he saw his faithful -henchman standing before him, booted and fully dressed. - -'I can't sl-sl-sl-sleep,' replied Jehan unblushingly, 's-s-so I'll -g-g-g-go now.' - -'At once?' - -Jehan nodded. - -'Can you get your horse at this hour?' - -Jehan nodded again. - -'You have your safe-conduct?--the letter?' - -More vigorous nods from Jehan. - -'Take what money you want from there.' And Gilles with a jerk of the -head indicated the valise which contained his effects. - -Jehan knelt on the floor beside the valise and turned over his -master's belongings. He took a small purse containing some gold, -which he slipped into the pocket of his breeches; then he selected a -fresh doublet, hose and mantle for Messire to wear and carefully -folded and put away the tattered garments which had suffered so much -damage during the fight. Oh! Maître Jehan was a tidy valet when he -gave his mind to such trivial matters, and just now his mind was -sorely exercised over Messire's future plight when he would be -deprived of the services of so efficient a henchman. - -Messire watched all his doings with much amusement. - -''Tis not the first time that I shall be servantless, my good man,' -he said lightly. 'And of a truth I have been too much pampered in -that way of late. I still know how to dress myself and how to clean -my boots--Aye!' he added, catching Jehan's look of reproach, 'and how -to tend to these silly scratches which the very unskilful blades of -M. de Landas and his friends did inflict upon my body.' - -With a gesture of genuine affection he put out his hand, and good old -Jehan took it in both his rough brown ones. When Gilles withdrew his -hand again he noticed that there was a warm, wet spot upon it, whilst -Jehan turned away very quickly, wiping his nose with the sleeve of -his doublet. - -But not another word was spoken by either of these two men--master -and servant, friends and comrades--who understood one another to the -last secret thought and the innermost heartbeat. - -A moment or two later, Jehan had blown out the candle and was gone, -and Gilles, lying on the narrow paillasse, wide awake, listened while -he could hear his faithful servant's heavy footstep stumping along -the corridor and down the stairs. - -The wintry moon shed a weird, cold light into the narrow room, upon -his valise, the elegant doublet which Jehan had so carefully laid -out, the bottle of sedative, the fresh bandages, the pots of salve -laid close to his hands. A heavy sigh rose involuntarily to his -lips. Life appeared very difficult and very complicated just then. -It had been so extraordinarily simple before: fighting for the most -part, starving often, no cares, no worries, no thought for the -morrow; then the axe finally laid to the root of life, somewhere on a -battlefield, when Destiny had worked her will with the soldier of -fortune. - -But now----! And there was faithful Jehan, dragged too, and -innocently, into this adventure, involved in an episode which might -find the gallows for its conclusion. Gilles, listening, could hear -his henchman's raucous stutter, rousing the echoes of the squalid -little hostelry. Anon there was much scuffling and shuffling, doors -opening and shutting, calls from Jehan and calls from Julien; then -for awhile only distant and confused sounds of people stirring. Ten -minutes or a quarter of an hour later the tramp of a horse's hoofs -upon the cobblestones, more calls and some shouting, a good deal of -clatter, the final banging of a heavy door--then nothing more. - -And Gilles turned over, trying to get to sleep. In his hand he held, -tightly clutched, a small, white, sweet-scented rag--a tiny ball of -damp cambric; and ever and anon he raised that ball to his lips ... -or to his eyes. But he could not get to sleep. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -HOW MADAME JACQUELINE WAS GRAVELY PUZZLED - - -I - -Old Nicolle and the women had known how to hold their tongues, so had -Madame Jacqueline's torch-bearer. Indiscretion these days, where the -affairs of noble gentlemen were concerned, was apt to bring terrible -reprisals in its train. And above all, M. le Marquis de Landas was -not a gentleman to be trifled with. If he desired secrecy, secrecy -he would have, and woe betide the unfortunates who had not known how -to hold their tongue. - -Nicolle, aided by Maria and Bertine--two of Madame's most trustworthy -serving-maids--had done their best to tend the wounds of the noble -seigneurs, while the torch-bearer was despatched to their respective -houses to summon immediate assistance. Messire de Borel was wealthy, -owned horses and had an army of servants; the Comte du Prêt lived in -a fine palace on the Place Verte, and the Seigneur de Maarege in the -Rue St. George. - -It was all done very quickly and very discreetly. Monseigneur the -governor was never meant to know what had occurred in his Palace that -night; servants came and went on tiptoe; the night watchmen had -anyhow been bribed to secrecy. Martin et Martine at the Town Hall -had only chimed the second hour of the morning and already the six -young gallants had been conveyed back to their homes; the boudoir was -locked up and the key given in charge of the night watchmen, who -would see that order there was once more restored. - -Jacqueline never deserted her self-appointed post until she was -satisfied that the last vestige of that awful scuffle had been -effectually obliterated. She helped Nicolle and her women to dress -the wounds of the young seigneurs; she remained by de Landas' side -until she saw him safely in the stalwart arms of his own henchmen. -It was amazing how a girl, so young and so inexperienced, was able to -give directions and to keep her head through this amazingly trying -time. She had broken down once, when Gilles had thrown the masks at -her feet; but directly he had gone she recovered herself, and from -that moment everything was done at her command. Nicolle and the -women, who were on the verge of losing their heads--of screaming and -falling into a panic, were soon restored to order and efficiency by -Madame's coolness and by her courage. - -Jacqueline never flinched, nor did she ask any questions. She was -affectionate with de Landas and gentle to all, but evidently her one -care was to keep this miserable affair a secret from her guardian. - - -II - -On the other hand, I, for one, am not going to say that Gilles de -Crohin was not a sick man on the following morning, when he managed -to crawl out of bed and to dress himself, inwardly cursing the -absence of his faithful Jehan. He made light of 'scratches,' but he -had no fewer than five about his body, and the flesh wound in his -thigh was exceedingly unpleasant. He had sat moodily in his narrow -room for some time, vaguely wondering what in the world he was to do -with himself, or whether Madame Jacqueline would ever care to set -eyes on him again. - -He was smarting under the sense of injustice. What right had she to -look on him as a braggart who would pay a set of knaves to help him -in his quarrels? The feeling of insensate jealousy which was gnawing -at his heart was still more unpleasant to bear. He almost understood -de Landas' hatred of himself after the episode in the banqueting -hall, for he--Gilles--was at this moment experiencing just that same -torturing jealousy, which had caused de Landas to outrage every canon -of chivalry and honour for the sake of getting even with an execrated -rival. - -In fact, neither his mental nor his physical condition was in an -enviable state when a runner arrived that morning at 'Les Trois Rois' -and asked for leave to speak with Messire Gilles de Crohin, equerry -to Monseigneur le Prince de Froidmont. - -Gilles, a little bewildered by this unexpected occurrence, met the -runner in the taproom of the hostelry. Somewhat curtly, he told the -man that Monseigneur le Prince was sick, and that he--Gilles--was in -attendance on his master. But the messenger appeared in no way -disconcerted at the rebuff; he seemed to have received instructions -that would cover every eventuality. - -'Monseigneur the governor,' he said, 'had heard a rumour that His -Magnificence was sick. Therefore he begged that Messire de Crohin -would forthwith come over to the Palace and reassure him as to the -condition of his master, Monseigneur le Prince de Froidmont.' - -The runner had long disappeared down the Rue aux Juifs and Gilles de -Crohin was still standing in the middle of the taproom, clutching his -chin with his hand in a state of most unenviable perturbation. A -very severe test on his histrionic powers was about to be imposed -upon him. Monseigneur's desire--nay! his command--could not be -disregarded. He--Gilles--must present himself at the Palace just as -he was--playing no rôle this time, save that of striving to -obliterate all similarity between himself as he really was and would -be to-day, and himself as he had been in Monseigneur's sight during -the past five days. - -No wonder that at the prospect he too--like Jehan last night--felt -cold drops of sweat rising to the roots of his hair. I will not say -that the thought of seeing Madame Jacqueline again, if he went to the -Palace, did not in a measure give him courage; but even that courage -was only fictitious, because in all probability she would scarce -vouchsafe to look on the servant, seeing that her heart was filled -with hatred and contempt for the master. - -Nevertheless, he was at the Palace less than an hour later. -Monseigneur was very gracious, and apparently not the least -suspicious. He only expressed regret that it had not been his good -fortune to meet Messire Gilles de Crohin ere this. On the other -hand, his apologies for what had occurred the night before inside his -own Palace were both profuse and humble--almost abject. - -'I beg you, Messire,' he said earnestly, at the close of the -interview, 'to assure Monseigneur le Duc d'Anjou that I would give -ten years of my life--and I have not many left to give--to undo the -mischief wrought by a few young nincompoops. I can but hope that His -Highness will exonerate me from any negligence or want of -understanding in the matter.' - -By this time Gilles was mentally quite at his ease. If his thigh was -painful, he had nevertheless managed to walk into Monseigneur's -presence without a limp, and to all appearances his host was at this -hour very far from suspecting the slightest fraud. - -'His Highness,' he said lightly, 'will recover from his scratches -within the next day or two. The whole matter is unworthy of -Monseigneur's anxiety.' - -After which assurance, and mutual protestations of esteem and -good-will, Gilles was allowed to take his leave. - - -III - -Being a personage of no consequence, Messire Gilles de Crohin, -equerry to Monseigneur le Prince de Froidmont, was not escorted to -the gates by an army of ushers; rather was he allowed to find his way -out as best he could. The interview with Monseigneur had taken place -in a room on a floor above, and he was walking slowly along one of -the wide corridors which, if memory served him, would lead him to the -grand staircase. On his right the tall, deep-embrasured windows gave -on the magnificent park which, with its stately trees still dressed -in winter garb, lay bathed in the sunlight of this early spring day. - -He paused just for a moment, looking over the park at the rich -panorama of the city. The window nearest to him was slightly open, -and the south-westerly breeze was apparently stirring the heavy -curtains in front of it. From somewhere close by there came gently -wafted the delicious penetrating fragrance of lilies. Was it a -wonder that Gilles' thoughts should at once have flown to Jacqueline? -and that an uncontrollable ache should suddenly grip his heart? - -Throughout his long adventurous life he had seen so many women--had -kissed a few, and loved none; and now Fate had placed in his path -just the one woman in the whole wide world whom at first sight he had -loved with unbounded passion, and who was as far removed from him as -was the gold-crowned steeple of St. Géry far away, and infinitely -more unattainable. For the first time in his life Gilles had looked -into a woman's eyes, felt that they held in their depths a promise of -paradise, only to realize that that promise could never be made to -him. - -The scent of the lilies brought with it a murmur of spring, of -awakening nature, of twitter of birds, and the man who listened to -that murmur, who thrilled at its insistent call, knew that he must -for ever remain lonely, that the call of springtide for him must for -ever remain unsatisfied. - -Standing there alone, he was not ashamed of his emotion, not ashamed -that hot tears welled up involuntarily to his eyes. But with a -half-impatient gesture and a smile at his own folly, he brushed these -with his hand resolutely away. - -When the mist of tears was cleared from his eyes, he suddenly saw -her--his dream--standing before him. She was in the window -embrasure, with the flood of sunshine wrapping her like a mantle of -gold. On the window sill beside her lay a bunch of white lilies. -Her little hand--Gilles thought he had never seen such an exquisite -little hand--held back the curtain, behind which she had apparently -been sitting. A soft breeze blew in through the half-open window and -stirred with its delicate breath the soft tendrils of her ardent -hair. Her face against the light was in a tender, grey shadow, -through which her eyes shone like a peep of azure sky, and on her -cheek that tiny mole was provocatively asking for a kiss. - -The apparition had come upon Gilles so suddenly, the transition from -dark melancholy to joy was so abrupt, that he--poor man!--weak, sick, -unnerved by weariness and constant strain, not only found nothing to -say, but he clean forgot all the amenities of social life which the -equerry of a prince of the House of Valois should have had at his -finger-tips. - -Jacqueline, too, strangely enough, felt embarrassed for the moment, -angry with herself for being tongue-tied. What was there to be -confused about? Messire Gilles de Crohin could not possibly guess -that she had been sitting here in the window embrasure, waiting to -see him pass, just because she desired to have news of his master. -He could not guess that it had taken all her reserves of diplomacy to -so explain to Monseigneur when he questioned her, what she knew of -the events of the past night that, without being greatly angered -against M. de Landas, he should feel sufficient compunction to send -promptly for news of Messire le Prince de Froidmont. Certainly -Messire's equerry could not guess that Madame Jacqueline's heart had -been touched and her mind tickled when Monseigneur placed before her -the naïve effusion of Maître Jehan, and that her own common sense and -unerring feeling for justice had filled in the gaps which the worthy -servant's missive had left in his exposé of what had actually -occurred. - -Therefore it was not the fear of what Messire de Crohin might think -or guess that kept Jacqueline momentarily speechless and shy, rather -was it a curious and undefinable sense of something strange--familiar -yet mysterious--about the personality of this man who stood, equally -silent, before her. It took her several seconds to free herself from -this spell which appeared to have been cast over her, several seconds -of fighting angrily with herself for the constraint which rendered -her tongue-tied and shy. Fortunately he appeared quite unaware of -her embarrassment, waited somewhat awkwardly, she thought, for her to -speak. - -'You are Messire de Crohin?' she contrived to say at last. - -'At your service, Madame,' he replied. - -'Equerry to Monseigneur le Prince de Froidmont?' - -He bowed in affirmative response. - -'And ... I have no doubt ... devoted to his person?' - -He smiled. - -'Why should Madame conclude that?' he asked. - -She gave a little start. Somehow his tone--that bantering smile, had -accentuated that feeling of familiarity which rendered his person so -strangely mysterious. - -'Monseigneur le Prince de Froidmont,' she rejoined coldly, 'is sure -to command the devotion of those who serve him. He is brave and -chivalrous----' - -'That was not Madame's opinion of him last night----' he broke in -dryly. Then, seeing that his tone had caused her to turn her eyes on -him with unfeigned surprise he added somewhat lamely: 'At least ... -that is ... that is what Monseigneur gave me to understand last -night----' - -'It was all a misunderstanding,' she said gently. 'Will you say that -to Monseigneur?' - -'If Madame desires.' - -'I do desire it. And since you know all about the incident, Messire, -will you, I pray you, tell your master how deeply I regret the -erroneous judgment which I formed of his conduct? Those abominable -varlets all crowding round him----' - -'Appearances were against Monseigneur, no doubt.' - -'And I behaved like a vixen, Messire,' she said with a smile. - -'Then give me an army of vixens!' he retorted impulsively. - -'Why, Messire, you were not there to see----' - -'No! But I imagine now that vixens must be adorable.' - -'Do not jest, Messire,' she rejoined more earnestly. 'I was shrewish -last night and ill-tempered and unjust. Will you tell your master -that this morning----' - -'I will tell him, Madame, that this morning you are perfect, whatever -you may have been last night.' - -Poor Gilles by now would have given all that he possessed in the -world to be allowed to go. He felt that this interview, which he had -neither sought nor hoped for, was like a dangerous trap into which -Fate and his own temperament might hurl him headlong. Every minute -that he spent in this woman's company rendered her more desirable to -him, rendered him more completely a slave to her charm. But for some -strange and subtle reason she seemed disinclined to let him go just -yet, and even now when, remembering his best manners, Gilles started -on the preliminaries of a most elaborate farewell bow, she went on -with a quick catching of her breath and a slight hesitation, which -brought a soft glow to her cheeks: - -'Messire Gilles----' - -'At your service, Madame.' - -'Was Monseigneur de Froidmont very angered with me?' - -'He was,' Gilles admitted, 'last night.' - -"But ... but....' - -'His anger hath since melted like snow in the spring.' - -'Even before you came hither at the bidding of my guardian?' - -'Even before that, Madame.' - -'Did he tell you so?' - -'I guessed it.' - -'Do you know his innermost thoughts, then?' - -'Most of them--yes, Madame.' - -'You are very intimate with Monseigneur le Prince de Froidmont?' she -asked, with a certain shy hesitancy which Gilles found adorable, -because it caused a delicate flush of pink to suffuse her cheeks. -This caused him, in his turn, to be confused and tongue-tied, staring -at her with eyes that seemed as if they would devour her loveliness. - -She had to repeat her question. - -'Oh!--ah!--er!' he stammered vaguely. 'That is--yes! Yes, Madame! -I am on ultimate terms with Monseigneur.' - -'And--do tell me, Messire--is Monseigneur handsome?' - -'No, by the Lord!' exclaimed Gilles with a loud laugh. Then he -caught her look: it was not one of surprise, rather of amusement not -unmixed with quaint, roguish mischief. He could not interpret that -look rightly, and began to stammer, worse confused than before. - -'Madame--I--that is----' - -'You are no judge of your master's looks, shall we say?' she retorted -with an enigmatic little smile. 'But you must remember that, though -I found Monseigneur of noble bearing, I have no notion how he looks, -for I have never seen him without a mask--that is----' - -This time Gilles was quite sure that she was doing her best to -suppress a laugh. - -'Do you think,' she said, 'that you could persuade His Magnificence -to pay his respects to me unmasked?' - -'Monseigneur will, I feel sure,' he rejoined stiffly, 'be honoured by -the command, but----' - -'But what, Messire?' - -'He is strangely ill-favoured, Madame.' - -'Oh! a woman is the best judge of that. Some of the ugliest men have -proved most attractive.' - -'But--but Monseigneur is scarred--badly scarred. He----' - -'What matter? There is naught so glorious as scars on a soldier's -face. When I was a child I once saw the Duc de Guise--le Balafré! -With that great cut across his cheek, he was still the most notable -man in a room filled to overflowing with clever, brave and handsome -men!' - -'But--but, Madame, Monseigneur is also pock-marked. Yes, that's it! -Pock-marked! An illness contracted in early childhood--Madame -understands?' - -'I do,' she replied with a little sigh of sympathy, and looked with -those enchanting blue eyes of hers straight on poor Gilles. 'I do. -It is very sad.' - -'Very sad indeed, Madame.' - -'Scarred and pock-marked. No wonder Monseigneur is shy to show his -face. But no matter,' she continued gaily. 'He hath such a lovely -voice, and oh! such beautiful hands! Slender and full of nerve and -power! I always take note of hands, Messire,' she said with -well-feigned ingenuousness. 'They indicate a man's character almost -more than his face. Do you not think, so too?' - -'I--Madame--that is----' - -Gilles had, quite instinctively, drawn the lace of his sleeve over -his left hand, even while Madame still looked at him with that -tantalizing glance which had the effect of turning his brain to putty -and his knees to pulp. Now she laughed--that merry, rippling laugh -of hers--and I do verily assure you that the poor man was on the -verge of making a complete fool of himself. Indeed, it were -difficult to say whether or no the next second would have witnessed -his complete surrender to Jacqueline's magic charm, his total loss of -self-control and the complete downfall of Madame la Reyne de -Navarre's cherished plan, for poor Gilles had lost consciousness of -every other feeling and thought save that of a wild longing to fall -on his knees and to kiss the tiny foot which peeped beneath the hem -of that exquisite woman's gown, a wild longing, too, to hold out his -arms and to fold her to his breast, to kiss her hair, her eyes, her -lips, that tiny mole which had wrought the whole mischief with his -soul. For the moment he forgot his past life, his present position, -the Duc d'Anjou and Madame la Reyne: he had forgotten that he was a -penniless adventurer, paid to play an unworthy trick upon this -innocent girl, sworn to infamy on pain of greater infamy still! He -had forgotten everything save that she was adorable and that an -altogether new and ardent love had taken possession of his soul. - -Of a truth it is impossible for a prosy chronicler to state -definitely what might have happened then, if Monseigneur the governor -had not chosen that very moment for coming out of his room and -walking down the corridor, at one end of which Gilles was standing -spell-bound before the living presentment of his dream of long ago. -He heard Monseigneur's heavy footstep, pulled himself vigorously -together, and with an impatient gesture which was habitual to him, he -passed his left hand slowly across his forehead. - -When he looked on Jacqueline again she was staring at him with an -expression that appeared almost scared and wholly bewildered, and -with a strange, puzzled frown upon her smooth forehead. For the -space of a second or two it seemed as if she wanted to say something, -then held back the words. After a slight hesitation, however, she -finally went forward a step or two to meet her guardian, without -looking again on Gilles. - -'I was glad,' she said quietly to d'Inchy, 'to have had an -opportunity of seeing Messire de Crohin and of begging him to offer -to Monseigneur le Prince de Froidmont, his master, my sincere regrets -for what occurred last night.' - -'Messire has already assured me,' rejoined d'Inchy suavely, 'that -Monseigneur harbours no resentment against any of us. Is that not -so, Messire?' - -'Indeed it is, Monseigneur,' replied Gilles stiffly. 'Whatever -Monseigneur may have felt last night, I in his name do assure you -that at this hour the incident of last night hath faded from his -memory.' - -He bowed now, ready to take his leave. But Jacqueline was apparently -not yet ready to dismiss him. Something had gravely puzzled her, -that was clear; and it was that something which seemingly made her -loth to let him go. - -'What, think you, Messire,' she said abruptly, 'caused Monseigneur to -forget his resentment so quickly?' - -'A journey, Madame,' he replied, looking her boldly between the eyes -this time, 'which his thoughts took skywards, astride upon a sunbeam.' - -She smiled. - -'And did Monseigneur's thoughts wander far on that perilous journey?' - -'As far as the unknown, Madame.' - -'The unknown? Where is that?' - -'There where we sow our dreams.' - -'Where we sow our dreams? You speak in metaphors, Messire. If, as -you say, we sow our dreams, what do we reap?' - -'A perfect being such as you, Madame, can only reap joy and -happiness.' - -'But you, Messire?' - -'Oh, I, Madame!' he replied with a shrug of his broad shoulders. -'What can a poor soldier of fortune garner from a crop of dreams save -a bunch of memories?' - -'Happy memories, I trust,' she said gently, as she finally extended -her dainty hand for his kiss. - -'Happiness is such an ephemeral flower, Madame: memory is its lasting -perfume.' - -For one brief moment her exquisite little hand, white, soft and -tensely alive, like the petals of a fragrant lily, lay upon his own: -for one brief moment of unalloyed happiness his lips rested upon her -finger-tips, and he felt them quivering beneath his kiss, as if -something of the passion which was searing his heart had been -communicated to her through that kiss. - -The moment went by like a flash: the next, Monsieur le Baron d'Inchy -was already bidding him farewell with many an unctuous word, which -Gilles never even heard. He had eyes and ears only for -Jacqueline--Jacqueline, whom he had seen and loved at first sight, -when she had been alternately proud and dignified, demure and arch, -reproachful and contemptuous; but before whom he could now bend the -knee in adoration when a softened mood filled her eyes with tears and -caused her perfect lips to quiver with unexpressed sympathy. - -'I entreat you, Messire,' she said finally, 'when you return to your -master, to urge upon him the necessity of extreme prudence. -Strangers are none too welcome in Cambray these days, and Monseigneur -de Froidmont hath already made many enemies, some of whom are -unscrupulous, others merely hot-headed; but all, alas! dangerous. -Guard him with your life, Messire,' she urged, with a quaint little -catch in her throat. 'And, above all, I pray you to assure him that -Jacqueline de Broyart would give much to undo the miserable work of -the past night.' - -She bowed her head in token that he was dismissed at last, and -he--poor wretch!--could not at that moment have uttered a single word -in response, for his throat was choked and his very sinews ached with -the effort to appear calm and unconcerned before Monseigneur the -governor. - -So, I fear me, that Gilles de Crohin defied every social rule laid -down by the aforesaid Maître Calviac, and that Monseigneur the -governor was seriously shocked when he saw a mere equerry taking an -unduly hasty leave from himself and from Madame Jacqueline de -Broyart, who was Duchesse et Princesse de Ramèse, in rank far above -any Sire de Crohin. - -Monseigneur d'Inchy gave a quick sigh of impatience. The comedy -invented by the Queen of Navarre was beginning to tax his powers of -endurance heavily. Were it not for the great issues at stake, he -would never have humbled himself before any man as he had done before -a profligate Valois prince who was not worthy to lick the dust that -stained Madame Jacqueline's velvet shoes. He looked down with -conscious pride on his beautiful ward, more beautiful at this moment, -he thought, than she had ever looked before. She was gazing straight -down the length of the corridor; her lips were parted in an enigmatic -smile which greatly puzzled her old guardian, a soft blush mantled -over her cheeks and throat, and as she gazed--on nothing -seemingly--her blue eyes shone with a strange, inward excitement. - -And yet, all that there was to see down the corridor was the -retreating figure of that somewhat ill-mannered equerry, Messire -Gilles de Crohin. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -WHICH TREATS OF THE DISCOMFITURE OF M. DE LANDAS - - -I - -We may take it that M. le Baron d'Inchy, at whose invitation the Duc -d'Anjou had come to Cambray, was not likely to let the matter of the -midnight duel remain unpunished, the moment he learned the full facts -about the affair. The epistle of Maître Jehan had put him on the -scent, and it must be remembered that M. le Baron d'Inchy ruled over -Cambray and the Cambrésis with the full autocratic power of a -conqueror, and that he had therefore more than one means at his -disposal for forcing the truth from unwilling witnesses if he had a -mind. - -That truth, as confessed by the night watchmen, was nothing short of -appalling. Monseigneur the governor's first thought had been one of -ample--not to say, obsequious--apologies to His Highness for the -outrage against his person. But _Monsieur_ being sick, and etiquette -forbidding Monseigneur the governor's visit to so humble an hostelry -as that of 'Les Trois Rois,' M. d'Inchy had bethought himself of -Messire Gilles de Crohin, the equerry, had sent for him and begged -him to transmit to His Highness all those excuses which he--the -governor--would have wished to offer in person. Fortunately, the -equerry had been able to assure Monseigneur that His Highness -appeared inclined to look on the affair with leniency. Whereupon -d'Inchy had seen him depart again, feeling still very wrathful but -decidedly easier in his mind. - -Then he sent for de Landas. - -De Landas was sick of his wounds, feverish and in the leech's hands; -but the order to present himself before the governor was so -peremptory that he dared not refuse. He knew well that nothing but -unbridled anger would cause Monseigneur to issue such an arbitrary -order and that it would neither be wise nor even safe to run counter -to his will. - -So de Landas had his wounds re-dressed and bandaged; he took the -cooling draught which the leech had prepared for him, and then he -ordered four of his men to carry him on a stretcher to the -Archiepiscopal Palace. But all this show of sickness did not have -the effect of softening Monseigneur's mood. He ordered de Landas -very curtly to dismiss his stretcher-bearers, then he motioned him to -a seat, himself sat down behind his desk and fixed searching eyes -upon his young kinsman. - -'I have sent for you, José,' he began sternly, 'and for you alone, -rather than for the whole of your gang, because you have constituted -yourself their leader, and they invariably follow you like so many -numskulls, in any mischief which you might devise.' - -'Mon cousin----' stammered de Landas, abashed, despite himself, by -d'Inchy's dictatorial tone. - -'One moment,' broke in the latter harshly. 'Let me tell you at once -that explanations and prevarications are useless. I received a hint -of what occurred last night primarily from an outside source, but you -will understand that a clue once obtained can very easily be followed -up. We questioned your varlets, put the night watchmen to the -torture; they confessed everything, and you, M. le Marquis de Landas, -my kinsman, and half a dozen of your precious friends, stand -convicted of an attempt at assassination against the person of a -stranger, who happens to be my guest.' - -De Landas, feeling himself cornered, made no attempt to deny. It -certainly would have been useless. Unfortunately he had allowed his -jealousy to get the better of his prudence, and last night had made -more than one mistake--such, for instance, as not killing the -watchmen outright instead of merely overpowering them, and employing -his own men rather than a few paid spadassins, who could not -afterwards have been traced. So he sat on, sullen and silent, his -arm resting on that of the chair, his chin buried in his hand. - -'For that attempted crime,' resumed Monsieur le Baron d'Inchy, after -a slight pause, and speaking in a trenchant and staccato tone, 'I -have decided to expel you and your five friends out of the city.' - -De Landas, forgetting his wounds and his sickness, jumped to his feet -as if he had been cut with a lash. - -'Expel me----?' he stammered. He could scarcely frame the words. He -was grey to the lips and had to steady himself against the table or -he would have measured his length on the floor. - -'You and your friends,' reiterated d'Inchy with uncompromising -severity. 'Would you perchance prefer the block?' - -But already de Landas had recovered some of his assurance. - -'This is monstrous!' he exclaimed hotly. 'I, your kinsman! Herlaer, -Maarege--some of your most devoted friends...!' - -'No one is a friend,' retorted d'Inchy firmly, 'who is a law-breaker -and a potential assassin!' - -'Monseigneur!' protested de Landas. - -'Well! What else were you all last night?' - -'We had no intention of killing the rogue.' - -'And attacked him, six to one!' - -'His impudence deserved chastisement. We only desired to administer -a lesson.' - -'In what form, I pray you?' queried d'Inchy with a short ironical -laugh. - -'We had some sticks in reserve----" - -'Sticks!' thundered d'Inchy, who at the words had jumped to his feet -and in his wrath brought down his clenched fist with a crash upon the -table. 'Sticks!! You had thought ... you would dare ... to raise -your hands against ... against ... Oh, my God!' he exclaimed in -horror as he sank down once more into his chair and, resting his -elbows on the table, he buried his face in his hands. Evidently he -was quite unnerved. - -De Landas had remained silent. Of a truth he had been struck dumb by -this extraordinary show of what amounted almost to horror on the part -of his usually dignified and self-contained kinsman. It seemed as if -he--de Landas--had said something awful, something stupendous when he -spoke of administering chastisement to a vagabond. A vagabond -indeed! What else was this so-called Prince de Froidmont? Whence -did he come? What was his purpose in coming to Cambray? And why -should Monseigneur the governor be so completely unnerved at the bare -possibility of any one laying hands on so obscure a personage? - -But this was obviously not the moment for demanding an explanation. -De Landas, ere he left his own fatherland in order to seek fortune in -Flanders, had already been well schooled in those arts of diplomacy -and procrastination for which Spanish statesmen were famous. He -scented a mystery here, which he then and there vowed to himself that -he would fathom; but this was not the time to betray his own -suspicions. He knew well enough that these wooden-headed Flemings -were for ever hatching plots for the overthrow of their Spanish -conquerors, that His Majesty the King of Spain had hardly one -faithful or loyal subject among these boors, who were for ever -prating of their independence and of their civil and religious -liberties. De Landas' quick, incisive mind had already jumped to the -conclusion that, in this mystery which surrounded the personality of -this enigmatic Prince de Froidmont, there was no doubt the beginnings -of one of those subtle intrigues, which had already filched from the -kingdom of Spain more than one of her fair Flemish provinces. But -the young man had up to now been too indolent and too self-indulgent -to trouble himself much about the dangers which threatened his -country through the brewing of these intrigues. He was of a truth -ready to find fortune in Flanders and to marry the richest heiress in -the land if he could, and then to remain loyal to the country of his -adoption if it continued to suit his purpose so to do; but if, as he -began now vaguely to fear, his plans with regard to Jacqueline were -thwarted for the sake of some unknown suitor, however highly placed, -if the golden apple which he had hoped to gather in this mist-laden -land turned to dead-sea fruit in his hand, then he would no longer -consider himself bound by allegiance to this alien country; rather -would his loyalty to King Philip of Spain demand that he should -combat every machination which these abominable Flemings might set -afoot, for the overthrow of Spanish power. - -But all this was for the future. De Landas was astute enough not to -betray a single one of his thoughts at the moment--not until he had -surveyed the whole situation in cold blood and discussed it with his -friends. For the nonce, conciliation was the only possible--the only -prudent--course of action, and humility and resignation the only -paths thereto. - -So he waited a minute or two until d'Inchy had mastered his -extraordinary emotion. Then he said meekly: - -'Monseigneur, you see me utterly confounded by your anger. On my -honour, I and my friends sinned entirely in ignorance. We thought -the stranger presumptuous in the presence of Madame Jacqueline de -Broyart, who in our sight is almost a divinity. We desired to teach -a malapert a lesson for daring to approach the greatest lady in -Flanders otherwise than on bended knees. We had no thought,' he -added insidiously, 'that in so doing we might be attacking a -personage whom Monseigneur desires to hold in especial honour.' - -'Even if the stranger was a person of no consequence,' rejoined -d'Inchy more calmly, 'your conduct was outrageous----' - -'As it is, I am humbled in the dust at thought that it put a spoke in -the wheel of some deep-laid political plans.' - -'I did not say that----' broke in d'Inchy quickly. - -'Oh, Monseigneur!' protested de Landas gently, 'you deign to belittle -mine intelligence. I may be a young jackanapes, but I am not such a -crass fool as not to realize that the person whom I only thought to -chastise, as I might some insignificant groundling, must be a -gentleman of more than ordinary consequence, else you would not -punish me so severely for so venial an offence.' - -'It is my duty----' - -'To expel six noble gentlemen from their homes for laying hands on an -unknown adventurer? Fie, Monseigneur! Your estimate of my reasoning -powers must of a truth be a very low one.' - -'You have gravely erred against the laws of hospitality.' - -'I am prepared to lick the dust in my abasement.' - -'You have offended a stranger who was my guest.' - -'I will offer him my abject excuses, tell him that I mistook him for -a caitiff.' - -'He would not accept your excuses.' - -'Is he such a high and mighty prince as all that?' retorted de Landas. - -It was an arrow shot into the air, but it evidently hit the mark, for -d'Inchy had winced at the taunt. - -'M. le Prince de Froidmont has been too gravely affronted,' he said -stiffly, 'for excuses to be of any avail.' - -'Let me try them, at any rate,' riposted de Landas, almost servilely -now. - -'I don't know--I----' - -'Ah! but Monseigneur, I entreat you, listen. I am your friend, your -kinsman, have served this land faithfully, devotedly, for years! I -have no wish to pry into your secrets, to learn anything of which you -desire to keep me in ignorance. But think--think!! Others would not -be so scrupulous as I. Gossip flies about very quickly in this city, -and rumours would soon take wider flight, if it became known that you -had punished with such unyielding rigour six of your best friends, -one of them your own kinsman, for daring to quarrel with a masked -stranger whom nobody knows, and who has entered this city in the -strictest incognito. People will deduce unpleasant conclusions: some -will call the stranger a Spanish spy, and you, Monseigneur, a paid -agent of Spain. At best, rumour will be busy with speculations and -conjectures which will jeopardize all your plans. In pleading for -mercy, Monseigneur,' urged de Landas with well-feigned ingenuous -enthusiasm, ''tis not so much mine own cause that I advocate, but -rather that of your own peace of mind and the fulfilment of all your -secret desires.' - -D'Inchy made no immediate reply. No doubt the Spaniard's specious -arguments had struck him as sound. He knew well enough how difficult -it was, these days, to keep tongues from wagging, and until the -affair with _Monsieur_ Duc d'Anjou, was irrevocably concluded, gossip -would prove a deadly danger, not only to the plans which he and de -Lalain had laid so carefully, but also to themselves and to their -adherents. This knowledge caused him to weaken in his attitude -toward de Landas. He sat there, frowning, silent, obviously -hesitating already. - -We must always remember also that the Flemings--whether lords or -churls--had never been able to hold their own against Spanish -diplomacy and Spanish cunning. Their mind was too straightforward, -too simple, yes! too childish, to understand the tortuous subtleties -practised by these past masters of mental craftiness. - -D'Inchy, de Lalain, de Montigny and their friends had plunged up to -the neck in a sea of intrigue. They were already floundering, out of -their depth. D'Inchy, ingenuous and inherently truthful, had never -suspected de Landas of duplicity--had, of a truth, never had cause to -suspect him--therefore now he took the young Spaniard's -protestations, his meekness, his well-timed warning, entirely at -their face value. De Landas was looking him straight in the face -while he spoke, and d'Inchy was duly impressed by the air of -straightforwardness, of youthful enthusiasm, wherewith the young man -punctuated his impassioned tirade; and the latter, quick to note -every change in the Fleming's stern features, pursued his advantage, -pressed home his pleadings, half certain already of success. - -'Let me go forthwith, Monseigneur,' he begged, 'to offer my humble -apologies to--to--Monsieur--er--le Prince de Froidmont. Though you -may think that we tried to murder him last night, we crossed swords -with him like loyal gentlemen. I and my friends will meekly admit -our errors. He is too chivalrous, believe me, not to forgive.' - -Obviously d'Inchy was yielding. Perhaps he had never been very -determined on punishing those young coxcombs, had been chiefly -angered because he feared that in his wrath _Monsieur_ Duc d'Anjou, -might incontinently shake the dust of inhospitable Cambray from off -his velvet shoes. Above all things, d'Inchy dreaded gossip about the -affair, and de Landas had indeed proved himself a master in the art -of self-defence when he prophesied the birth of countless rumours if -wholesale expulsions and punishments followed the midnight brawl. - -'Have I your permission to go, Monseigneur?' insisted de Landas. -'Sick as I am, I can yet crawl as far as the hostelry where lodges -the enigmatic Prince de Froidmont.' - -Again d'Inchy winced. He felt his secret escaping from the safe -haven of his own keeping. He sat on in silence, meditating for -awhile. After all, _Monsieur's_ equerry had assured him that His -Highness was disposed to look leniently on the episode, and who could -be more royalist then the King? more Catholic than the Pope? -Gradually the tensity of his attitude relaxed, the dark frown -disappeared from between his brows; he still looked sternly on his -young kinsman, but the latter saw that the look was no longer -menacing. - -A few minutes later Monseigneur d'Inchy had spoken the word which -caused de Landas to give a deep sigh of relief. - -'Very well!' he said. 'You may try. But understand,' he added -inflexibly. 'If Monsieur--I mean, if M. le Prince de Froidmont does -not accept your apology, if he demands your punishment, you leave -Cambray to-night.' - -'I understand, Monseigneur,' said de Landas simply. - -'And if the Prince does accept your apology, and I do condone your -offence this time, your punishment will be all the more severe if you -transgress again. It would not be a sentence of expulsion then, but -one of death. Now you may go!' he concluded curtly. 'My leniency in -the future will depend upon your conduct.' - -After which, he dismissed de Landas with a stiff inclination of the -head, and the young Spaniard left the presence of the autocratic -governor of Cambray with rage in his heart and a veritable whirlpool -of conjectures, of surmises and of intrigues seething in his fertile -brain. - - -II - -But right through the wild medley of hypotheses which ran riot in de -Landas' mind there raged also furious, unbridled wrath--wrath at his -own humiliation, his own impotence--hatred against the man who had -brought him to this pass, and mad, ungovernable jealousy whenever his -thoughts turned to Jacqueline. - -Somehow--it was only instinct, no doubt--he felt that all this pother -about the masked stranger centred round the personality of -Jacqueline. The first hint which Monseigneur had of last night's -affray must of necessity have come from Jacqueline. She alone was -there--varlets and wenches did not count--she alone could have a -personal interest in putting Monseigneur on the scent. - -A personal interest? De Landas' frown became dark and savage when -first that possibility rose before his mind. He had ordered his -servants, very curtly, to go and wait for him in the main entrance -hall, for after his interview with the governor he felt the want of -being alone for a few moments, to think over the situation as it so -gravely affected him. He was in the same corridor where a couple of -hours ago Jacqueline had waylaid and spoken with Messire Gilles de -Crohin. On his right was the row of tall windows with their deep -embrasures, which gave view upon the park. De Landas felt sick and -fatigued, as much from choler and nerve-strain as from the effect of -his wounds, and he sat down on one of the wide window-seats to think -matters over. - -A personal interest? - -Yes! That was it. Jacqueline, capricious, hot-headed, impulsive, -had been attracted by the mysterious personality of the stranger, and -for the moment was forgetting the lover of her youth, the man who -felt that he had an inalienable claim upon her allegiance. De Landas -had heard rumours of a masked minstrel having serenaded Madame -beneath her windows. Pierre, his own henchman, had received a broad -hint to that effect from Nicolle, who was Madame's waiting-woman. -Was it possible that the masked troubadour and the enigmatic Prince -de Froidmont were one and the same person? and was it likely that -Jacqueline's romantic fancy had been captured by his wiles? - -A wild, unreasoning rage gripped at de Landas' heart at the thought: -sheer physical pain caused him to groan aloud. He felt stifled and -giddy, and with a rough, impatient gesture, he threw open the -casement-window and leaned out, in order to inhale the pure, fresh -air which rose from the park. As he did so, he caught sight of -Jacqueline, who was wandering in and among the bosquets, attended -only by one of her maids. She was dressed in a dark gown and had a -hood over her head, but even thus garbed she looked adorable, and de -Landas muttered an angry oath as he looked down on her, watching her -sedate movements, the queenly walk, that quaint air of demureness and -dignity which became her so well. He suddenly realized all that the -past few days--nay! weeks--had meant in the shaping of his destiny. -Monseigneur the governor's stern decree had already placed her out of -his reach; she was slipping away from him, dragged from his side by -her accession to wealth and power, by the political intrigues which -centred around her--aye! and she was also slipping away from him -through the gradual cooling of her attachment for him; that fact he -could no longer disguise from himself. He had succeeded in winning -her, when she was so young and so inexperienced that she fell readily -enough--almost unconsciously--into his arms. He had ensnared her -like the skilful fowler succeeds in trapping a fledgling unawares. -Since then, so many things had changed. Jacqueline, from an obscure -little country wench--almost the handmaid of an adulated brother--had -become one of the most important personages in the land. She was -fêted, courted, admired, on every side, surrounded by all that was -most handsome, most chivalrous, in Europe. She had not actually -turned from the lover of her girlhood--no! even de Landas was forced -to admit that--but she had learned to appraise him in the same -crucible as other men; and, with teeth set, and shame and anger -gnawing in his heart, de Landas had to tell himself that she had -apparently found him wanting. Time was when nothing on earth would -have turned her admiration away from him, when, whatever the -appearances might be, she would look up to him as the fount of all -bravery and of all honour. But last night she had only been gentle -and pitying, and a few hours later had led Monseigneur into -investigating the whole affair. - -De Landas' fist against the window ledge was clenched until the -knuckles of his slender hand gleamed like ivory. Had the masked -stranger himself aught to do with Jacqueline's disloyalty? Suddenly -the Spaniard felt that at any cost he must know the truth about that, -at any cost he must wring an avowal from Jacqueline's lips, whether -in her innermost soul she had ever by one single thought been -unfaithful to him. - -As fast as his gathering weakness would allow, he hurried through the -interminable corridors of the Palace, until he found himself down in -the hall below, at the foot of the main staircase, not twenty paces -away from the room where he had endured such bitter humiliation last -night. Instinct drew him to that room, the window of which gave -direct access on to a terraced walk and thence on to the park. - -He pushed open the door behind which a few brief hours ago he and his -friends had laid in wait so shamelessly for their unsuspecting enemy. -Almost furtively he stepped over the threshold and peeped in. He -scarce recognized the place, thought he had mistaken the door; and -yet there were all the landmarks: the desk with its kidney-shaped -top, which had proved such a useful rampart for the enemy; the chairs -which the masked stranger had brandished like swivels above his head -when the cowardly order was given to the varlets to help in the -attack; the heavy curtain which had been the last, the most -formidable weapon of defence. - -All these things had been put back in their respective places; a -fresh piece of matting covered the floor; the curtain had been hung -once more in front of the window--not a stain, not a mark, not a -break testified to the terrible orgy of bloodshed which had -desecrated this noble apartment last night. - -De Landas looked all about him in astonishment. He stepped further -into the room, and even as he did so, a strong current of air caused -the heavy door behind him to fall to with a bang. As de Landas -looked across the room in order to see what had been the cause of -this sudden gust he saw that the window opposite was open to the -ground, and that Jacqueline had apparently just entered that way from -the terraced walk beyond. - -She did not see him just at first, but stood for awhile intent, as he -had been, in noting the appearance of the room. The window framed -her in like a perfect picture, with her dark gown and her golden hair -and soft white skin. The hood of her cloak had fallen back over her -shoulders and she held her heavy skirt gathered up in her hand. - -'Jacqueline!' exclaimed the young man impulsively. - -She looked up and saw him, and, quite serenely, stepped into the -room, went forward to greet him with hand outstretched, her face -expressing gentle solicitude. - -'Why, José!' she said lightly, 'I had no thought of seeing you -to-day.' - -'Which,' he retorted glumly, 'doth not seem to have greatly troubled -you.' - -'I knew that you were sick. Surely the leech hath prescribed -absolute rest.' - -'I did not think of sickness or of rest,' he rejoined, with an -undercurrent of grim reproach in his tone. 'I only thought of seeing -you.' - -'I would have come to you,' she said calmly, 'as soon as the leech -advised.' - -'And I could not wait,' he riposted with a sigh. 'That is all the -difference there is, Jacqueline, between your love and mine.' - -Then, as she made no reply, but led him gently, like a sick child, to -a chair, he added sombrely: - -'I came to bid you farewell, Jacqueline.' - -'Farewell? I don't understand.' - -'I am going away.' - -'Whither?' - -He shrugged his shoulders. - -'_Chien sabe_?' he said. 'What does it matter?' - -'You are enigmatical, dear cousin,' she retorted. 'Will you not -explain?' - -'The explanation is over simple, alas! Monseigneur the governor hath -expelled me from this city.' - -'Expelled you from this city?' she reiterated slowly. - -'Yes! for daring to lay hands on His High and Mightiness, Monseigneur -le Prince de Froidmont.' - -'José, you are jesting!' - -'I was never so serious in all my life.' - -'And you are going?' - -'To-night.' - -'But whither?' she insisted. - -'As I said before: _Chien sabe_?' - -He spoke now in a harsh, husky voice. Obviously his nerves were on -edge and he had some difficulty in controlling himself. He was -sitting by the desk and his arm lay across the top of it, with fist -clenched, while his dark eyes searched the face of the young girl -through and through while he spoke. She was standing a few paces -away from him, looking down on him with a vague, puzzled expression -in her face. - -'José,' she said after awhile, 'you are unnerved, angered, for the -moment. You think, no doubt, that I am to blame for Monseigneur's -knowledge of last night's affair. I swear to you that I am not, that -on the other hand I did all that was humanly possible to keep the -shameful affair a secret from every one.' - -'Shameful, Jacqueline?' he protested. - -'Yes, shameful!' she replied firmly. 'Monseigneur, it seems, -received an inkling of the truth early this morning--how, I know not. -But he sent for the watchmen and had them examined; then he told me -what had occurred.' - -'And you believed him?' - -'I neither believed nor disbelieved. I was hideously, painfully -puzzled. Now you tell me that my guardian hath expelled you from -this city. He would not have done that, José, if he had not proof -positive of your guilt.' - -'Well!' he rejoined with sudden, brusque arrogance. 'I'll not deny -it!' - -'José!' - -'I did waylay a malapert, an impudent rogue, with the view to -administering a sound correction to his egregious vanity. I do not -deny it. I am proud of it! And you, Jacqueline, should commend me -for having done you service.' - -'I cannot commend you for last night's work, José,' she said -earnestly. 'It was cowardly and unchivalrous.' - -'Pardieu!' he riposted roughly. 'I am going to be punished for it -severely enough, methinks. Expelled from this town! Thrown to the -tender mercies of the Duke of Parma and his armies, who will vent on -me their resentment for my loyalty to the Flemish cause!' - -'Nay, José! I swear to you that Monseigneur will relent.' - -'Not he!' - -'He only meant to frighten you, to cow you perhaps into submission. -He was already angered with you after the banquet, for attacking -Messire le Prince de Froidmont. He thought your action of the night -not only a dishonourable one, but a direct defiance of his orders.' - -'Not he!' quoth de Landas again. Then he added with a sudden burst -of bitter resentment. 'He wants to get me out of the way--to -separate me from you!' - -'You must not be surprised, José,' she retorted quietly, 'that after -what happened last night, my guardian's opposition has not undergone -a change in your favour. But have I not sworn that he will relent? -I will go to him now--I shall know what to say ... he so seldom -refuses me anything I ask for.' - -'I forbid you to go, Jacqueline!' he interposed quickly, for already -she had turned to go. - -'Forbid me? Why? I will not compromise your dignity; have no fear -of that.' - -'I forbid you to go!' he reiterated sullenly. - -'You are foolish, José! I assure you that I understand Monseigneur's -moods better than any one else in the world. I know that he is -always just as ready to pardon as to punish. 'Tis not much pleading -that I shall have to do.' - -'You'll not plead for me, Jacqueline.' - -'José!' - -'You'll not plead. 'Tis not necessary.' - -'What do you mean?' - -'That I am already pardoned.' - -'Already pardoned?' - -'Yes. I am not expelled from the city.' - -'But you told me----' - -'It was all a ruse!' - -'A ruse?' - -'Yes!' he cried with a sudden outburst of rage, long enough held in -check. 'Yes! A ruse to find out if you loved me still!' - -Then, as instinctively, at sight of his face, which had become -distorted with fury, she stepped back in order to avoid closer -contact with him, he jumped up from his chair, and while she -continued to retreat, he followed her step by step, and she watched -him, fascinated and appalled by the look of deathly hatred which -gleamed in his eyes. - -'A year ago, Jacqueline,' he went on, speaking now through set teeth, -so that his voice came to her like the hissing of an angry snake; 'a -year--nay, a month, a week ago--if I had told you that I was going -away from you, you would have thrown yourself in my arms in the agony -of your grief; you would have wept torrents of tears and wrung your -hands and yielded your sweet face, your full, red lips unasked to my -caresses. But now----' - -He paused. She could retreat no further, for her back was against -the wall. Instinctively she put out her arms in order to keep him -off. But he suddenly seized her with a fury so fierce that she could -have screamed with the pain, which seemed literally to break her back -in two. He held her close to him, his warm breath scorched her face, -his lips sought her throat, her cheeks, her eyes, with a violence of -passion so intense that for the moment she felt weak and helpless in -his arms. Only for a moment, however. The next, she had recovered -that dignified calm which was so characteristic of her quaint -personality. She made no resistance, because of a truth she had not -the power to shake herself free from his embrace; but her figure -suddenly became absolutely rigid, and once or twice he met a look in -her eyes which was so laden with contempt, that his exasperation gave -itself vent in a long, impassioned tirade, wherein he poured forth -the full venom of the pent-up rage, hatred, jealousy which was -seething in his heart. - -'You! Miserable Flemish cinder-wench!' he cried. 'So you thought -that you could toy with the passion of a Spanish gentleman? You -thought that you could use him and play with him for just as long as -it suited your fancy, and that you could cast him aside like a torn -shoe as soon as some one richer, greater, more important, appeared -upon the scene. Well! let me tell you this, my fine Madame! That -I'll not give you up! I'll not! No! Though I do not love you, any -more than I do any slut who tosses me a passing kiss. But I'll not -give you up--to that accursed stranger, or to any man; do you hear? -You are mine, and I'll keep you--you and your fortune. I have -reckoned on it and I want it--and I'll have it, if I have to drag you -in the gutter first, or burn this confounded city about your ears!' - -His voice had gradually grown more and more husky, until the last -words came out of his parched throat like the screech of some wild -animal gloating over its prey. But in his present state of health, -the effort and the excitement proved too great for his endurance. He -turned suddenly dizzy and sick, staggered and would have fallen -headlong at her feet, if she herself had not supported him. - -She had remained perfectly still while he poured forth that hideous -torrent of insults and vituperation, which, in her sight, were akin -to the writhings of some venomous reptile. She could not move or -stop her ears from hearing, because he held her fast. Tall, stately -and impassive, she had stood her ground like some unapproachable -goddess whom the ravings of a raging cur could not in any way pollute. - -Now that he became momentarily helpless, she gave him the support of -her arm and led him quietly back to the chair. When he was once more -seated and in a fair way of recovering from this semi-swoon, -she--still quite calmly--turned to go. - -'You are unnerved, José,' she said coldly, 'and had best remain here -now till I fetch your servants. I could wish for your sake as well -as for mine own that this had been an everlasting farewell.' - -After which she walked quite slowly across the room, opened the door -with a firm hand and went out. A moment or two later, de Landas -could hear her giving instructions to his servants in a perfectly -clear and firm voice. He leaned back in his chair and gave a harsh -laugh of triumph. - -'And now, Monseigneur le Prince de Froidmont,' he murmured under his -breath, 'we shall see which of us will be the conqueror in the life -and death struggle which is to come.' - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -HOW M. DE LANDAS PRACTISED THE GENTLE ART OF TREACHERY - - -I - -The conduct of de Landas--of the one man whom in her childish way she -had at one time loved--had been a bitter blow to Jacqueline's -sensitive heart, also one to her pride. How she could have been so -blind as not to see his baseness behind his unctuous speech, she -could not imagine. How had she never suspected those languorous eyes -of his of treachery, those full, sensual lips of falsehood? Now her -cheeks still tingled with shame at the remembrance of those hateful -kisses which he had forced on her when she was helpless, and her -whole being quivered with the humiliation of his insults. He never, -never could have loved her, not even in the past. He was just a -fortune-hunter, goaded to desperation when he saw that her wealth and -her influence were slipping from his grasp. 'Flemish cinder-wench,' -he had called her, not just in a moment of wild exasperation, but -because he had always hated her and her kin and the fair land of -Flanders, which she worshipped and which all these Spanish grandees -so cordially despised. Jacqueline, whose whole nature--unbeknown to -herself--was just awakening from childhood's trance, felt that she, -too, hated now that arrogant and outwardly pliant Spaniard, the man -who with cajoleries and soft, servile words had wound his way into -her heart and into the confidence of Monseigneur. She had realized -in one moment, while he was pouring forth that torrent of abuse and -vituperation into her face, that he was an enemy--a bitter enemy to -her and to her country--an enemy all the more fierce and dangerous -that he had kept his hatred and contempt so well concealed for all -these years. - -And now her whole mind was set on trying to find a means to undo the -harm which her own weakness and her own overtrustfulness had helped -to bring about. Monseigneur the governor had not of late shown great -cordiality toward M. de Landas; at the same time, he did not appear -to mistrust him, had not yet perceived the vicious claws underneath -the velvet glove or the serpent's tongue behind the supple speech. -To a sensitive girl, reared in the reserve and aloofness which -characterized the upbringing of women of high rank in these days, the -very thought of confiding to her guardian the story of de Landas' -infamous conduct towards her was abhorrent in the extreme; but, in -spite of that, she was already determined to put Monseigneur on his -guard, and if mere hints did not produce the desired effect, she -would tell him frankly what had happened, for Jacqueline's conscience -was as sensitive as her heart and she had no thought of placing her -private feelings in direct conflict with the welfare of her country. - -But, strangely enough, when she broached the unpleasant subject with -Monseigneur, she found him unresponsive. What to her had been a -vital turning point in her life did not appear to him as more than a -girlish and undue susceptibility in the face of an aggrieved lover. -He made light of de Landas' fury, even of the insults which -Jacqueline could hardly bring herself to repeat; and she--wounded to -the quick by the indifference of one who should have been her -protector and if need be her avenger--did not insist, withdrew into -her own shell of aloofness and reserve, merely begging Monseigneur to -spare her the sight of de Landas in the future. - -This Monseigneur cordially promised that he would do. He meant to -keep de Landas at arm's length for the future, even though he was -quite genuine in his belief that Jacqueline had exaggerated the -violence of the Spaniard's outburst of hatred. In his innermost -heart, M. le Baron d'Inchy was congratulating himself that the young -girl had been so completely, if somewhat rudely, awakened from her -infatuation for de Landas. Matters were shaping themselves more and -more easily with regard to the alliance which he and his party had so -much at heart. _Monsieur_ showed no sign of desiring to leave -Cambray, which plainly proved that he had not abandoned the project. -But for this, as for all delicate political situations, secrecy was -essential above all things, and Monseigneur had received a severe -shock when de Landas had so boldly suggested that rumour would soon -begin to stir around the mysterious personality of the masked -stranger. - -Because of this, too, d'Inchy did not desire to quarrel just then -with de Landas--whose misdemeanour he had already condoned--and -turned a deaf ear to Jacqueline's grave accusations against her -former lover. The next few days would see the end of the present -ticklish situation and in the meanwhile, fortunately for himself and -his schemes, most of those young hotheads who had taken part in the -midnight drama were more or less sick, and safely out of the way. - -We may take it that M. le Baron d'Inchy heard no further complaints -about the unfortunate affair from his exalted guest: certain it is -that neither M. de Landas nor any of his friends suffered punishment -for that night's dastardly outrage. Whether they actually offered -abject apologies to Messire le Prince de Froidmont, we do not know; -but it is on record that the latter made no further allusion to the -affair, and that subsequently, whenever he chanced to meet any of his -whilom enemies in the streets, he always greeted them with unvarying -cordiality and courtesy. - - -II - -De Landas had in effect burnt his boats. He knew that sooner or -later Jacqueline's resentment would get the better of her reserve and -that his position inside the city would become untenable, unless -indeed he succeeded in winning by force what he had for ever -forfeited as a right--the hand of Jacqueline de Broyart, and with it -the wealth, the power and influence for which his ambitious soul had -thirsted to the exclusion of every other feeling of chivalry or -honour. - -He had left her presence and the Archiepiscopal Palace that afternoon -with hatred and rage seething in his heart and brain, his body in a -fever, his mind torn with conflicting plans, all designed for the -undoing of the man whom he believed to be both his rival and his -deadly enemy. An hour later, Du Pret and Maarege, the only two of -his friends who were able to rise from their bed of sickness in -response to a hasty summons from their acknowledged chief, were -closeted with him in his lodgings in the Rue des Chanoines. A man -dressed in rough clothes, with shaggy hair and black, unkempt beard, -stood before the three gallants, in the centre of the room, whilst -Pierre, M. de Landas' confidential henchman, stood on guard beside -the door. - -'Well?' queried de Landas curtly of the man. 'What have you found -out?' - -'Very little, Magnificence,' replied the man. 'Messire le Prince de -Froidmont is lying sick at the hostelry of "Les Trois Rois," and hath -not been seen to-day. His equerry received a messenger in the course -of the morning from Monseigneur the governor and went subsequently to -the Archiepiscopal Palace, where he remained one hour; and the -henchman started at dawn, on horseback, went out of the city, and -hath not since returned.' - -'Pardi! we knew all that,' broke in de Landas roughly, 'and do not -pay you for such obvious information. If you have nothing more to -say----' - -'Pardon, Magnificence; nothing else occurred of any importance. But -I was entrusted with other matter besides following the movements of -Messire le Prince de Froidmont and his servants.' - -'Well! and what did you do?' - -'Obeyed orders. The people of Cambray are in a surly mood to-day. -For the first time this morning, food supplies failed completely to -reach the town. Rumours are rife that the armies of the Duke of -Parma are within ten kilometres of the gates of the city, and that -already he proposes to starve Cambray into capitulation.' - -'All that is good--very good!' assented de Landas, who nodded to his -friends. - -They too signified their approval of the news. - -'It is most fortunate,' said young Maarege, 'that all this has -occurred this morning. It helps our plans prodigiously.' - -'Go on, Sancho,' broke in de Landas impatiently. 'What did you do in -the matter?' - -'I and my comrades mixed with the crowd. It was easy enough to throw -in a word here and a word there ... the masked stranger in the city -... a banquet at once given in his honour, where the last food -supplies intended for the people were consumed by those who would -sell Cambray back to the Spaniards ... Spanish spies lurking in the -city.... Oh! I know how to do that work, Magnificence!' the man -went on with conscious pride. 'You may rely on me!' - -'Parbleu, fellow!' retorted de Landas haughtily. 'I would not pay -thee if I could not.' - -'Well! what else?' queried one of the others eagerly. - -'As luck would have it, Magnificence,' continued the man, 'one of the -strangers--he who is said to be equerry to the Prince de -Froidmont--chanced to be walking down the street when I was by. I -had a small crowd round me at the time and was holding forth on the -subject of Flanders and her wrongs and the wickedness and tyranny of -our Spanish masters ... I had thrown out a judicious hint or two -about strangers who might be Spanish spies ... Magnificence, you -would have been satisfied with the results! The crowd espied the -stranger, hooted him vigorously, though for the nonce they dared not -actually lay hands on him. But 'tis only a matter of time. The -seeds are sown; within the week, if food becomes more scarce and -dear, you will have the crowd throwing stones at the stranger! ... I -have earned my pay, Magnificence! Those Flemish dogs are yapping -already ... to-morrow they'll snarl ... and after that...' - -'After that, 'tis the Duke of Parma who will bring them back to -heel,' concluded de Landas in a triumphant tone. 'And now, Sancho, I -have other work for thee!' - -'I am entirely at the commands of His Magnificence,' the man rejoined -obsequiously. - -'The seeds here are sown, as thou sayest! Let Sandro and Alfonzo and -the others continue thy work amongst the loutish crowds of Cambray. -Thou'lt start to-night for Cateau-Cambrésis.' - -'Yes, Magnificence.' - -'The Duke of Parma is there. Thou'lt take a message from me to him.' - -'Yes, Magnificence.' - -'A verbal message, Sancho; for letters may be stolen or lost.' - -'Not when I carry them, Magnificence.' - -'Perhaps not. But a verbal message cannot be lost or stolen. If it -is not transmitted I'll have thee hanged, Sancho.' - -'I know it, Magnificence.' - -'Well then, thou'lt seek out His Highness the Duke of Parma. Tell -him all that has occurred in this city--the arrival of the stranger; -the manner in which he stalks about the town under cover of a mask; -the extraordinary honour wherewith the governor regards him. Dost -understand?' - -'Perfectly, Magnificence.' - -'Then tell the Duke--and this is the most important part of thy -mission--that on any given day which he may select, I can provoke a -riot in this city--a serious riot, wherein every civil and military -authority will be forced to take a part--and that this will be the -opportunity for which His Highness hath been waiting. While the -rioters inside Cambray will be engaged in throwing stones at one -another, the Duke of Parma need only to strike one blow and he can -enter the city unopposed with his armies, in the name of our Most -Catholic King Philip of Spain.' - -He rose from his chair as he did so and crossed himself devoutly, his -friends doing likewise. Though they were Flemish born--these two -young men--they had for some unavowable reason espoused the cause of -their tyrants, rather than that of their own people. A look of -comprehension had darted from Sancho's eyes as he received these -final instructions from his employer, a look of satisfaction, too, -and of hatred; for Sancho was a pure bred Castilian and despised and -loathed all these Flemings as cordially as did his betters. Whether -he served his own country from a sense of patriotism or from one of -greed, it were impossible to say. No one had ever found it worth -while to probe the depths of Sancho's soul---a common man, a churl, a -paid spadassin or suborned spy--he was worth employing, for he was -sharp and unscrupulous; but as to what went on behind those shifty, -deep-set eyes of his and that perpetually frowning brow, was of a -truth no concern of his noble employers. All that mattered to them -was that Sancho had--in common with most men of his type--an -unavowable past, one which would land him on the cross, the gibbet or -the stake, in the torture-chamber or under the lash, whenever his -duties were ill-performed or his discretion came to be a matter of -doubt. - -'If you serve me well in this, Sancho,' resumed de Landas after a -brief while, 'the reward will surpass your expectations.' - -'In this as in all things,' said the man with obsequious servility, -'I trust in the generosity of your Magnificence.' - -'Thou must travel without a safe-conduct, fellow.' - -'I am accustomed to doing that, Magnificence.' - -'No papers of any kind, no written word must be found about thy -person, if perchance thou fall into Flemish hands ere thou canst -reach His Highness the Duke of Parma's camp.' - -'I quite understand that, Magnificence.' - -'Nothing wilt thou carry save the verbal message. And if as much as -a single word of that is spoken to any living soul save to the Duke -of Parma himself, I pledge thee my word that twenty-four hours later -thou shalt be minus thy tongue, thine ears, thine eyes and thy right -hand, and in that state be dangling on the gibbet at the Pré d'Amour -for the example of any of thy fellows who had thought or dreamt of -treachery.' - -While de Landas spoke, Sancho kept his eyes resolutely fixed upon the -ground, and his shaggy black beard hid every line of his mouth. Nor -were de Landas and his young friends very observant or deeply versed -in the science of psychology, else, no doubt, they would have noticed -that though Sancho's attitude had remained entirely servile, his -rough, bony hand was clutching his cap with a nervy grip which -betrayed a stupendous effort at self-control. The next moment, -however, he raised his eyes once more and looked his employer -squarely and quite respectfully in the face. - -'Your Magnificence need have no fear,' he said. 'I understand -perfectly.' - -'Very well,' rejoined de Landas lightly. 'Then just repeat the -message as thou wilt deliver it before His Highness the Duke of -Parma, and then thou canst go.' - -Obediently Sancho went through the business required of him. 'I am -to tell His Highness,' he said, 'that on any day which he may select, -Monseigneur le Marquis de Landas and his friends will provoke a riot -within this city--a serious riot, wherein every civil and military -authority will be forced to take a part--and that this will be the -opportunity for which His Highness hath been waiting. I am to tell -him also that while the rioters inside Cambray will be engaged in -throwing stones at one another, the Duke of Parma need only to strike -one blow and he can enter the city unopposed, with his armies, in the -name of our Most Catholic King Philip of Spain.' - -De Landas gave a short, dry laugh. - -'Thou hast a good memory, fellow,' he said: 'or a wholesome fear of -the lash--which is it?' - -'A profound respect for Your Magnificence,' replied Sancho, literally -cringing and fawning now before his noble master, like a dog who has -been whipped; 'and the earnest desire to serve him well in all -things.' - -'Parbleu!' was de Landas' calm rejoinder. - -Two minutes later, Sancho was dismissed. He walked backwards, his -spine almost bent double in the excess of his abasement; nor did he -straighten out his tall, bony figure till Pierre had finally closed -the door after him and there was the width of an antechamber and a -corridor between him and the possibility of being overheard. Then he -gave a smothered cry, like that of a choking bull; he threw his cap -down upon the floor and stamped upon it; kicked it with his foot, as -if it were the person of an enemy whom he hated with all the -bitterness of his soul. Finally he turned, and raising his arm, he -clenched his fist and shook it with a gesture of weird and impotent -menace in the direction from whence he had just come, whilst in his -deep-set eyes there glowed a fire of rancour and of fury which of a -truth would have caused those young gallants to think. Then he -picked up his cap and almost ran out into the street. - - -III - -But neither de Landas nor his friends troubled themselves any further -about Sancho once the latter was out of their sight. They were too -intent on their own affairs to give a thought to the susceptibilities -of a down-at-heel outlaw whom they were paying to do dirty work for -them. - -'We could not have found a more useful fellow for our purpose than -Sancho,' was de Landas' complacent comment. - -'A reliable rascal, certainly,' assented Maarege. 'But it is not -easy to get out of the city without a safe-conduct these days.' - -'Bah! Sancho will manage it.' - -'He might get a musket-shot for his pains.' - -'That would not matter,' rejoined de Landas with a cynical laugh, 'so -long as his tongue is silenced at the same time.' - -'Yes, silenced,' urged one of the others; 'but in that event our -message would not be delivered to the Duke of Parma.' - -'We must risk something.' - -'And yet must make sure of the message reaching the Duke. We want as -little delay as possible.' - -'If food gets short here our own position will be none too pleasant. -These Flemings seem to think that the churls have just as much right -to eat as their betters.' - -'Preposterous, of course,' concluded de Landas. 'But, as you say, -we'll make sure that our message does reach the Duke as soon as may -be. Let Sancho take one chance. Pierre shall take the other.' - -Pierre, motionless beside the door, pricked up his ears at sound of -his own name. - -'Here, Pierre!' commanded his master. - -'Yes, Monseigneur.' - -'Thou hast heard my instructions to Sancho.' - -'Yes, Monseigneur.' - -'And couldst repeat the message which I am sending to His Highness -the Duke of Parma?' - -'Word for word, Monseigneur.' - -'Say it then!' - -Pierre repeated the message, just as Sancho had done, fluently and -without a mistake. - -'Very well, then,' said de Landas; 'thine instructions are the same -as those which I gave to Sancho. Understand?' - -'Yes, Monseigneur.' - -'Thou'lt leave the city to-night.' - -'Yes, Monseigneur.' - -'Without a safe-conduct.' - -'I can slip through the gates. I have done it before.' - -'Very good. Then thou'lt go to Cateau-Cambrésis and present thyself -before His Highness. If Sancho has forestalled thee, thy mission -ends there. If, however, there has been a hitch and Sancho has not -put in an appearance, thou'lt deliver the message and bring me back -His Highness' answer.' - -'I quite understand, Monseigneur.' - -Thus it was that M. le Marquis de Landas made sure that his -treacherous and infamous message reached the Generalissimo of the -Spanish armies. To himself and to his conscience he reconciled that -infamy by many specious arguments, foremost among these being that -Jacqueline had played him false. Well! he had still a few days -before him wherein to study two parts, one or the other of which he -would have to play on the day when Alexander Farnese, Duke of Parma, -demanded the surrender of the city of Cambray in the name of His -Majesty King Philip of Spain. The one rôle would consist in a -magnificent show of loyalty to the country of his adoption, the -rallying of the garrison troops under the Flemish flag and his own -leadership; the deliverance of Cambray from the Spanish yoke and the -overthrow of the Duke of Parma and his magnificent army. The other -rôle, equally easy for this subtle traitor to play, meant handing -over Cambray and its inhabitants to the tender mercies of the Spanish -general, in the hope of earning a rich reward for services rendered -to His Majesty the King of Spain. The first course of action would -depend on whether Jacqueline would return to his arms, humbled and -repentant: the second on whether the masked stranger was indeed the -personage whom he--de Landas--more than suspected him of being, -namely, _Monsieur_ Duc d'Anjou et d'Alençon, own brother to the King -of France, come to snatch the Sovereignty of the Netherlands, -together with their richest heiress, from the arms of her former -lover. - -Well! whichever way matters went, de Landas stood to win a fair -guerdon. He even found it in his heart to be grateful to that -mysterious stranger who had so unexpectedly come across his path. -But now he was tired and overwrought. His work for the day was done -and there was much strenuous business ahead of him. So he took leave -of his friends and, having ordered the leech to administer to him a -soothing draught, he finally sought rest. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -WHAT NEWS MAÎTRE JEHAN BROUGHT BACK WITH HIM - - -I - -How Gilles spent the next two or three weeks he could never -afterwards tell you. They were a long-drawn-out agony of body and of -mind: of body, because the enforced inactivity was positive torture -to such a man of action as he was; of mind, because the problem of -life had become so complicated, its riddle so unanswerable, that day -after day and night after night Gilles would pace up and down his -narrow room in the Rue aux Juifs, his heart torn with misery and -shame and remorse. The image of Jacqueline, so young, so womanly, so -unsuspecting, haunted him with its sweet, insistent charm, until he -would stretch out his arms toward that radiant vision in passionate -longing and call to her aloud to go and leave him, alone with his -misery. - -He felt that, mayhap under simpler circumstances--she being a great -lady, a rich heiress, and he an humble soldier of fortune--he could -have torn her image from his heart, since obviously she could never -become his, and he could have endured the desolation, the anguish, -which after such a sacrifice would have left him finally, bruised and -wearied, an old and broken man. But what lay before him now was, of -a truth, beyond the power of human sufferance. A great, an -overwhelming love had risen in his heart almost at first sight of an -exquisite woman: and he was pledged by all that he held most sacred -and most dear to play an unworthy part towards her, to deceive her, -to lie to her, and finally to deliver her body and soul to that -degenerate Valois Prince whom he knew to be a liar and a libertine, -who would toy with her affections, sneer at her sensibilities and -leave her, mayhap, one day, broken-hearted and broken-spirited, to -end her days in desolation and misery. - -And it was when the prospect of such a future confronted Gilles de -Crohin in his loneliness that he felt ready to dash his head against -the wall, to end all this misery, this incertitude, this struggle -with the unsolvable problem which stood before him. He longed to -flee out of this city, wherein she dwelt, out of the land which gave -her birth, out of life, which had become so immeasurably difficult. - -Maître Julien tended him with unwearying care and devotion, but he -too watched with burning impatience for the return of Maître Jehan. -There was little that the worthy soul did not guess just at this -time. It had not been very difficult to put two and two together -with the help of the threads which his Liege Lady had deigned to -place in his hands. But Julien was too discreet to speak; he could -only show his sympathy for a grief which he was well able to -comprehend by showering kindness and attention on Messire, feeling -all the while that he was thereby rendering service to his divinity. - - -II - -Despite his horror of inaction, Gilles seldom went out during that -time save at nightfall, and he had been content to let Monseigneur -the governor know that he was still sick of his wounds. Indeed, -those wounds inflicted upon him that night by a crowd of young -jackanapes had been a blessing in disguise for him. They had proved -a valid excuse for putting off the final day of decision which -Monseigneur d'Inchy and his adherents had originally fixed a -fortnight hence. That fortnight had long since gone by, and Gilles -knew well enough that the Flemish lords were waxing impatient. - -They were urging him earnestly for a decision. The pressure of the -Duke of Parma's blockade upon the city was beginning to make itself -felt. All access to the French frontier was now closed and it was -only from the agricultural districts of the province itself that food -supplies could be got into the town; and those districts themselves -were overrun with Spanish soldiery, who pillaged and burned, stole -and requisitioned, everything that they could lay hands on. The city -of Cambray was in open revolt against her Sovereign Lord, the King of -Spain, and the Duke of Parma had demanded an unconditional surrender, -under such pains and penalties as would deliver the whole population -to the tender mercies of a conqueror whose final word was always -bloodshed and destruction. - -A stout garrison, enthusiastic and determined, was in defence of the -city, and there was no thought at present of capitulation in the -valiant hearts of these Flemings, the comrades and equals of those -who had perished in their hundreds in other cities and provinces of -the Netherlands, whilst upholding their ancient rights and privileges -against the greatest military organization of the epoch. There had -been no thought of surrender, even though food was getting scarce and -dear. Wheat and fresh meat had already become almost prohibitive for -all save the rich; clothing and leather was unobtainable. The Duke -of Parma was awaiting further troops yet, wherewith he proposed to -invest the city from every side and to cut her population off from -every possible source of supply. - -This was the inexorable fact which M. le Baron d'Inchy placed before -Gilles de Crohin when the latter presented himself one day at the -Archiepiscopal Palace in his rôle as equerry to _Monsieur_. - -'His Highness must see for himself,' d'Inchy said firmly, 'how -impossible it is for us to wait indefinitely on his good pleasure. -No one can regret more than I do the unfortunate circumstances which -have brought His Highness down to a bed of sickness; and because of -those circumstances--in which, alas! I, as Monseigneur's host, had an -innocent share--I have been both considerate and long-suffering in -not trying to brusque His Highness in his decision. But Parma is -almost at our gates, and Orange is leading his own army from victory -to victory. We gave in to Monseigneur's caprice when matters did not -appear so urgent as they are now; time has come when further -indecision becomes a rebuff.' - -To these very just reproaches Gilles had no other answer save -silence. Ill-versed as he was in the art of diplomacy, he did not -know how to fence with words, how to parry this direct attack and to -slip out of the impasse in which he was being cornered. - -Jehan had been gone a fortnight, and still there was no answer from -the Queen of Navarre! - -'Monseigneur hath a delicate constitution,' he said somewhat lamely -after awhile. 'He suffers grievously from his wounds and hath been -delirious. It were unwarrantable cruelty to force a decision on him -now.' - -'So do our people suffer grievously,' retorted d'Inchy roughly. -'They suffer already from lack of food and the terror of Parma's -armies. And,' he added with a touch of grim irony, 'as to His -Highness' delicate constitution, meseems that if a man can hold six -young gallants for half an hour at the sword's point, he hath little -cause to quarrel with the constitution wherewith Nature hath endowed -him.' - -'Even the strongest man can be prostrated by fever.' - -'Possibly. But there is no longer any time for procrastination, and -unless I have His Highness' final answer at the end of the week, my -messenger starts for Utrecht to meet the Prince of Orange.' - - -III - -When Gilles had taken his leave of Monseigneur the Governor that -afternoon, he felt indeed more perplexed than he had been before. -Until Madame la Reyne's letter came, he felt that he could not pledge -_Monsieur's_ word irrevocably. When he thought over all the events -which had finally landed him in face of so stupendous a problem his -mind hung with dark foreboding on the Duc d'Anjou's cynical -pronouncement: 'If any engagement is entered into in my name to which -I have not willingly subscribed, I herewith do swear most solemnly -that I would repudiate the wench at the eleventh hour--aye! at the -very foot of the altar steps!' And Gilles, as he hurried along the -interminable corridors of the Palace, was haunted by the image of -Jacqueline--his flower o' the lily--tossed about from one ambitious -scheme to another, subject to indifference, to aversion, to insults; -unwanted and uncared for save for the sake of her fortune and the -influence which she brought. It was monstrous! abominable! Gilles -felt a wild desire to strangle some one for this deed of infamy, -since he could not physically come to grips with Fate. - -At the top of the stairs he saw Jacqueline coming towards him, and, -whether it was the effect of his imagination or of his guilty -conscience, certain it was that she seemed moody and pale. He stood -aside while she walked past him; but though his whole being cried out -for a word from her and his every sense yearned for the sound of her -voice and a glance from her eyes, she did not stop to speak to him, -only gave him a kind and gracious nod as she went by. - -And after he had watched her dainty figure till it disappeared from -his view, he took to his heels and ran out of the Palace and along -the streets, like one who is haunted by torturing ghosts. It seemed -to him that malevolent voices were hooting in his ear, that behind -walls or sheltering doorways, there lurked hidden enemies or avenging -ghosts, who pointed fingers of scorn at him as he ran past. - -'There goes the man,' those accusing voices seemed to say, 'who would -deliver an exquisite lily-flower to be crushed in the rough and -thoughtless hands of an avowed profligate! There goes the man who, -in order to attain that end, is even now living a double life, -playing the part of a liar and a cheat!' - -Self-accusation tortured him. He hurried home, conscious only of a -desire to hide himself, to keep clear of _her_ path, whom he was -helping to wrong. He paid no heed to the real hooting that followed -him, to the menacing fists that were levelled at him from more than -one street-corner, wherever a few idlers had congregated or some -poor, wretched churls, on the fringe of want, had put their heads -together in order to discuss their troubles and their miseries. He -did not notice that men spat in his trail, that women gathered their -children to their skirts when he hurried past, and murmured under -their breath: 'God punish the Spanish spy!' - - -IV - -Twenty days went by ere Jehan returned--twenty days that were like a -cycle of years to the unfortunate watcher within the city. Maître -Jehan arrived during the small hours of the morning, drenched to the -skin, having swum the river for a matter of a league or more to avoid -the Spanish sentries, and finally, after having skirted the city -walls, had climbed them at a convenient spot under cover of darkness, -being in as great danger from the guard at the gates as he had been -from the enemy outside. He had then lain for an hour or two, hidden -in the Fosse-au-Pouilleul, the most notorious and most comprehensive -abode of thieves and cut-throats known in any city of Flanders. But -the letter which Madame la Reyne de Navarre had given him for -Messire, with the recommendation not to part with it to any one else -save with his life, was still safe in its leather sheath inside the -pocket of his doublet. - -By the time that the first grey streak of dawn had touched the tall -spires of the ancient city with its wand of silver, the letter was in -Gilles de Crohin's hands, and the two friends were sitting side by -side in the narrow room of the dreary hostelry, whilst Gilles felt as -if a load of care had been lifted from his shoulders. - -'Your news, my good Jehan? Your news?' he reiterated eagerly; 'ere I -read this letter.' - -But Jehan, by dint of broken words and gestures, indicated that the -letter must be read first. - -So, while he partook of the solid breakfast which Maître Julien had -placed before him, Gilles read the letter which the gracious Queen -had sent to him. It ran thus: - - - - 'Highly Honoured Seigneur, - - 'My Faithful and Loyal Friend! - - 'The present is to tell You that all is well with our schemes. I - have seen Monsieur, who already is wearied of Madame de - Marquette, and like a School boy who has been whipped for - disobedience, is at this moment fawning round my Skirts, ready to - do anything that I may command. Was I not right? I prophesied - that this would be so. Thus Your labours on My behalf have not - been in fain. And now I pray you to carry through the matter to - a triumphant conclusion. In less than three months Monsieur will - be Sovereign Lord of the Netherlands, with the hand of the - Flemish Heiress as a priceless additional guerdon. In the - meanwhile, as no doubt You know already, the Armies of the Duke - of Parma lie between Us and Cambray. Monsieur is busy collecting - together the necessary Forces to do battle against the Spaniards. - He is prepared to enter Cambray in triumph, to marry the Lady - blindfolded, since _You_ say that She is adorable; in fact He is - in the best of moods and consents to everything which I desire. - Meanwhile, Messire de Balagny, who is Chief of Monsieur's camp, - is on his way with full details of our projects for the final - defeat of the Spaniards. He has a small troop with him, whom he - will leave at La Fère until after he hath spoken with You. I - urge You, Messire, in the meanwhile to entreat M. le Baron - d'Inchy not to surrender the City to the Duke of Parma. I pray - You to assure Him--in Your name as Duc d'Anjou et d'Alençon--that - the whole Might of France, of which Messire de Balagny's small - troop is but the forerunner, is at Your beck and call; that You - will use it in order to free the Netherlands from the Spanish - yoke. Tell him that the next few months will see the final - overthrow of King Philip's domination in the Netherlands and a - prince of the house of France as their Sovereign Lord. Say - anything, promise anything, Messire! I swear to You that - Monsieur is prepared to redeem _any_ pledge You may enter into in - his Name. Then, when Messire de Balagny arrives in Cambray, You - can make this Your excuse for quitting the City, nominally in - order to place Yourself at the head of Your armies. Messire de - Balagny, who is in My confidence, will then remain, not only to - take command of the Garrison and help with his small troop to - defend the City from within, but also as a guarantee for - Monsieur's good faith. See how splendidly I have thought - everything out, how perfectly events are shaping themselves for - the success of Our schemes! Patience a brief while longer, - Messire! Your time of trial is drawing to an end! Confess that - it hath not been a very severe ordeal and that You have derived - much enjoyment from mystifying some of those over obtuse - Flemings. I count with pleasure and impatience upon Your arrival - in La Fère very shortly, where the gratitude of a sorely tried - Queen will be awaiting You. If You now help me to carry the - affair through to a triumphant close, I vow that on the day that - Monsieur makes his state entry into Cambray there will be naught - that You can ask of Me and which if in My power to give that I - would not bestow with a joyful heart upon you. - - 'Until then, I remain, Messire, - 'Your earnest Well-Wisher, - 'Marguerite de Navarre. - - 'Given in Paris, under My hand and seal this 27th day of March - 1581.' - - - -V - -The letter fell from Messire Gilles' hand unheeded on to the floor. -He was staring straight out before him, a world of perplexity in his -eyes. Maître Jehan tried in vain to fathom what went on behind his -master's lowering brow. Surely the news which he had brought was of -the most cheering and of the best. The present humiliating position -could not now last very long. Messire de Balagny was on his way, and -within a few days--hours, perhaps--he and Messire could once more -resume those happy, adventurous times of the past. And yet it seemed -as if Messire was not altogether happy. There was something in his -attitude, in the droop of his listless hands, as if something bright -and hopeful had just slipped out of his grasp--which to Jehan's mind -was manifestly absurd. - -So he shrugged his wide shoulders and solemnly picked up the fallen -letter and pressed it back into Messire's hand. The action roused -Gilles from his gloomy meditations. - -'Well, my good Jehan!' he said with a grim laugh, which grated very -unpleasantly on faithful Jehan's ears. 'If the rest of your news is -as good as that contained in Madame la Reyne's letter, you and I will -presently find ourselves the two luckiest devils in Flanders.' - -Jehan nodded. 'I have n-n-n-no f-f-f-further news,' he blurted out. -'Messire de B-b-b-b-balagny was at La F-f-f-fère when I was -th-th-there.' - -'With a strong troop?' - -Jehan nodded dubiously. - -'A couple of hundred men?' - -'Or s-s-s-s-so,' retorted Jehan. - -'But he himself will be within sight of Cambray to-day?' - -'A-a-a-at this hour.' - -'And inside the city to-morrow?' - -Jehan nodded again. - -'And Monseigneur le Duc d'Anjou?' - -'In P-p-p-p-aris: ready to st-st-st-start.' - -'He does not mean to play a double game this time?' - -'No-n-n-n-no-no!' came in rapid and vigorous protest from Maître -Jehan. - -'Then the sooner I secure his bride for him, the better it will be -for Madame la Reyne's schemes,' concluded Gilles dryly. Then -suddenly he jumped to his feet, gave a deep sigh, and stretching out -his arms with a gesture of impatience and of longing, he said: 'If we -could only vacate the field without further ado, honest Jehan! and -let Fate do the rest of the dirty work for us!' - -His hand as it fell back came in contact with his sword, which was -lying across the table; not the exquisite Toledo rapier, the gift of -a confiding Queen, but his own stout, useful one, which he had picked -up some three years ago now, after his own had been broken in his -hand on the field of Gembloux. There it lay, the length of its -sheath in shadow; but the slanting rays of the early morning sun fell -full upon the hilt, which was shaped like a cross. With it in his -hand, with that cross-hilt before his eyes, Gilles de Crohin had -sworn by all that he held most sacred and most dear that he would see -this business through and would not give it up, until Marguerite of -Navarre herself gave him the word. And these were days when the -sworn word was a thing that was sacred above all things on this -earth; and as Gilles himself had said it on that same memorable -occasion, he was not a prince and he could not afford to toy with his -word--it was the only thing he possessed. Therefore, though more -than one historian, notably Enguerrand de Manuchet, has chosen to -cast a slur upon Gilles de Crohin for his actions, I for one do not -see how he could have acted otherwise and kept his honour intact. He -was pledged to Marguerite de Navarre, had pledged himself to her with -eyes open and full knowledge of the Duc d'Anjou's character. To have -turned back on his promise, to have broken his word to the Queen, -would have been the act of a perjurer and of a coward. He could at -this precise moment have walked out of Cambray, that we know. The -Duke of Parma's armies at the time that Balagny succeeded in reaching -Cambray only occupied that portion of the Cambrésis which adjoined -the French frontier. On the West the way lay open, and the whole -world on that side was free to the soldier of fortune, even though he -would have been forced, after such a course of action, to shake the -dust of France for ever from his feet. - -But he chose to remain. He chose to continue the deception which had -been imposed upon him, even though it involved the happiness of the -woman he loved, even though it meant not only to relinquish her to -another man, but to a man who was wholly unworthy of her. - -Far be it from the writer of this veracious chronicle to excuse -Gilles de Crohin in what he did. I do not wish to palliate, only to -explain. Far be it from me, I say, to run counter to Messire de -Manuchet's learned opinion. But the history of individuals as well -as that of nations has a trick of seeming more clear and more -proportionate when it is viewed through the glasses of centuries, and -it is just possible--I say it in all humility--that Messire de -Manuchet, who in addition to being a very capable historian was also -a firm adherent of the policy of a French alliance for the sorely -stricken Netherlands, felt aggrieved that Madame Jacqueline de -Broyart, the fairest heiress in Flanders, did not after all wed -_Monsieur_ Duc d'Alençon et d'Anjou, own brother to the King of -France, and did not thereby consolidate that volatile Prince's hold -upon the United Provinces, and that the learned historian hath vented -his disappointment in consequence on the man who ultimately failed to -bring that alliance about. - -That, of course, is only a surmise. Messire de Manuchet's history of -that stirring episode was writ three hundred years ago: he may have -been personally acquainted with the chief actors in the palpitating -drama--with d'Inchy and Jacqueline de Broyart, with Gilles de Crohin -and the Marquis de Landas; even with the Queen of Navarre and -_Monsieur_ Duc d'Anjou. He may also have had his own peculiar code -of honour, which was not the one laid down by Du Guesclin and Bayard, -by Bussy d'Amboise and Gilles de Crohin, and all the protagonists of -chivalry. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -HOW MESSIRE DE LANDAS' TREACHERY BORE FRUIT - - -I - -It is Messire Enguerrand de Manuchet who tells us that on the 3rd day -of April of this same year of grace 1581, Messire de Balagny, Maître -de Camp to _Monsieur_ Duc d'Anjou succeeded under cover of darkness -in entering the city by the Landrecy road on the West, which was -still--an you remember--clear of the Spanish investing armies. He -came alone, having left his troop at La Fère, a matter of three -leagues or so. Toward nine o'clock of the morning he made his way to -the hostelry of 'Les Trois Rois,' where we may take it that Gilles de -Crohin was mightily glad to see him. Messire de Balagny's advent was -for the unfortunate prisoner like a breath of pure air, something -coming to him from that outside world from which he had been shut out -all these weary weeks; something, too, of the atmosphere of camps and -of clean fighting in the open, which for the moment seemed to -dissipate the heavy fumes of political intrigues, with its attendant -deceits and network of lies, that were so abhorrent to the born -soldier. - -'I do not envy you your position, my dear friend,' Balagny said -dryly, after he had discussed the whole situation with Gilles. - -'My God!' responded Gilles with almost ludicrous fervour. 'It has -been a positive hell!' - -'Although Madame la Reyne de Navarre is very grateful to you for what -you have done; she was only saying to me, before I left, that there -was nothing she would not do for you in return.' - -'Oh!' said Gilles with a careless laugh. 'The gratitude of a -Queen...!!' - -'This one is above all a woman,' broke in the older man earnestly. -'She is a Queen only by the accident of birth.' - -'I know, I know,' Gilles went on, somewhat impatiently. 'But for the -nonce Her Majesty has conferred the greatest possible boon upon me by -releasing me from my post; and I, being more than satisfied, will ask -nothing better of her. But what about His Highness?' he added, after -a slight pause. - -Balagny shrugged his shoulders. - -'He does not mean to play us false?' insisted Gilles. - -'_Chien sabe_?' was the other's enigmatic reply. 'Does one ever know -what François, Duc d'Anjou, may or may not do?' - -'But Madame la Reyne declares----' - -'Madame la Reyne is blind where that favoured brother is concerned. -But it is she who, even now, is moving heaven and earth to recruit -the armies for the relief of Cambray--not he. As you know, brother -Henri, King of France, will not stir a finger to help Monsieur -conquer a possible kingdom, and _Monsieur_ himself sits in his Palace -in Paris, surrounded by women and young sycophants, idling away his -time, wasting his substance, while his devoted sister wears herself -out in his service.' - -'Don't I know him!' concluded Gilles with a sigh. Then after awhile -he added more lightly: 'Well, friend, shall we to the governor? He -hath sent me a respectful but distinctly peremptory request this -morning to present myself in person at the Archiepiscopal Palace.' - -'The worthy Fleming is getting restive,' was de Balagny's dry comment. - -'Naturally.' - -'He wants to bring matters to a head.' - -'To-day, apparently. He hath given me respite after respite. He -will not wait any longer. Matters in this city are pretty desperate, -my friend. And if _Monsieur_ tarries with his coming much longer...' - -De Balagny rose from his chair, and going up to Gilles, he placed a -kindly hand on the younger man's shoulder. - -'_Monsieur_ will not tarry much longer,' he said earnestly. 'Madame -la Reyne will see to that. Go to the governor, my good Gilles, and -complete the work you have so ably begun. It was not pleasant work, -I'll warrant, and there is little or no glory attached to it; but -when you will have lived as many years as I have, you will realize -that there is quite a deal of satisfaction to be derived out of -inglorious work, if it be conscientiously done. And after to-day,' -he added gaily, 'you will be free to garner a whole sheaf of laurels -in the service of a grateful Queen and of a dissolute Prince.' - -But Gilles was not in the humour to look on the bright side of his -future career. He was fingering moodily the letter which Monseigneur -the governor had sent him an hour or so ago. It was obviously -intended to be the forerunner of the final decision which would throw -Jacqueline--beautiful, exquisite Jacqueline of the merry blue eyes -and the rippling laugh--into the arms of that same dissolute Prince -of whom even de Balagny--his trusted Maître de Camp--spoke with so -much bitterness. - - - - 'Were I a free agent,' d'Inchy said in his letter, 'I would not - dream of asking Your Highness so signal a favour; but while Your - Highness chooses to hide Your identity under a mask, and in an - humble Abode altogether unworthy of Your rank, I have no option - but to beg You most humbly to grace My own house with Your - presence, in order that We may arrive at last to an irrevocable - decision in the Matter which lies so closely to My heart. - - - -Indeed the die was cast. Even Messire de Manuchet admits that Gilles -could not do otherwise than present himself at the Palace in -accordance with Monseigneur the governor's desire. De Balagny -certainly did everything to cheer and encourage him. - -'Will you not come with me?' Gilles asked of him, when he was ready -to go. 'I could then present you at once to d'Inchy, and, please -God! be myself out of Cambray ere the sun has begun to sink low in -the West.' - -But Balagny shook his head. - -'You had best go alone, this once more,' he said firmly. 'Think of -the coming interview as an affair of honour, my dear Gilles, and go -to it as you would to a fight, with a bold front and unquaking heart. -You will find it quite easy to confront the Fleming then.' - -Gilles gripped the old man's hand with gratitude. - -'You have put new life into me,' he said, with something of his -habitual cheerfulness. 'Another few hours of this miserable business -and I shall be free--free as air!' Then he added with a bitter sigh, -which the other man did not quite know how to interpret: 'And I shall -imagine myself as almost happy!' - -After which, he sallied forth into the street with a firm and elastic -step. - - -II - -There are few things in the world quite so mysterious as the origin -and birth of a rumour. It springs--who knows whence? and in a trice -it grows, hurries from mouth to mouth, gathers crowds together, -imposes its presence in every house, at every street corner, on every -open space where men and women congregate. - -Messire de Balagny had only been inside Cambray a few hours. He had -entered the city under cover of darkness and in secrecy, and even -before midday the rumour was already current in the town that the -King of France was sending an army against the Spaniards, and that -his ambassador had arrived in Cambray in order to apprise Monseigneur -the governor of the happy event. - -It was also openly rumoured that the arrival of this same ambassador -of the King of France was not altogether unconnected with the -activities of Spanish spies inside the city. The people, who were -beginning to suffer grievously from shortage of food and lack of -clothing, were murmuring audibly at the continued presence of -strangers in their midst, who were more than suspected of aiding the -Duke of Parma from within, by provoking riots or giving away the -secrets of the garrison and of the stronghold. - -Above all, there had been growing ill-will against the masked -stranger, the mysterious Prince de Froidmont, whose persistent stay -in this beleaguered city had given rise at first to mere gossip, but -latterly to more pronounced suspicion, plentifully sprinkled with -malevolence. The extraordinary deference which Monseigneur the -governor had been observed to show him on more than one occasion -fostered the growing suspicion that he was a stranger of great -distinction, who for some unavowable reason desired to preserve an -incognito, and chose to dwell in an obscure hostelry, in order that -he might cany on some nefarious negotiations unchecked. - -Crowds are always unreasonable when skilfully handled in the -direction of suspicion and unrest by unscrupulous agitators, and we -know that de Landas' paid hirelings had been busy for weeks past in -fomenting hatred against the masked stranger, amongst a people -rendered sullen and irritable both by hunger and by the threat of an -invading and always brutal soldiery at their gates. - -Certain it is that, the moment that Gilles set foot that day outside -his lodgings in the Rue aux Juifs, he was followed not only by -glances of ill-will, but also by open insults freely showered after -him as he passed. He was wearing the rich clothes which would have -been affected by _Monsieur_ on such an occasion; his toil-worn hands -were hidden beneath gloves of fine chamois leather and his face was -concealed by a black velvet mask. Looking neither to right nor left, -absorbed in his own thoughts, he hurried along the street, paying no -heed to what went on around him. It was only when he reached the -Place Notre Dame, in front of the cathedral, and tried in crossing -toward the Archiepiscopal Palace to avoid a group of people who stood -in his way, that he began to perceive something of the intense -hostility which was dogging his every footstep. - -'Look at the Spaniard!' a woman shouted shrilly out of the crowd. -'Wants the place to himself now!' - -'Dressed in silks and satins, when worthy folk go half naked!' called -out another, with bitter spite ringing in her husky voice. - -'How much does the King of Spain pay you, my fine gallant, for -delivering the girls of Cambray to his soldiery?' This from a short, -square-shouldered man, only half-dressed in a ragged doublet and -hose, shoeless and capless, who deliberately stood his ground in -front of Gilles, with bare arms akimbo and bandy legs set wide apart, -in an attitude of unmistakable insolence. - -Gilles, with whom patience was at no time a besetting virtue, uttered -an angry exclamation, seized the fellow incontinently by the shoulder -and forced him to execute a wild pirouette ere he fell back gasping, -after this unexpected attack, against his nearest companions. - -This brief incident naturally exasperated the crowd: it acted as a -signal for a fresh outburst of rage and a fresh volley of insults, -which were hurled at the stranger from every side. - -'Miserable Spaniard!' exclaimed one man. 'How dare you lay a hand on -a free burgher of the city?' - -'If a free burgher of the city chooses deliberately to insult me,' -retorted Gilles, who, for obvious reasons, was trying to keep his -temper, 'I do what every one of you would have done under like -circumstances--knock the impudent fellow down.' - -'Impudent fellow!' came from a harsh voice at the rear of the crowd. -'Hark at the noble Spanish Senor! Flemish burghers are like the dust -beneath his feet.' - -'I am no Spaniard!' said Gilles loudly. 'And whoever calls me one -again is a liar. So, come out of there,' he added lightly, 'you who -spoke from a safe and convenient distance; and Fleming, French or -Spaniard, we'll soon see whose is the harder fist.' - -'Fight with a masked spy like you?' was the defiant riposte. 'Not I! -The devil, your accomplice, has taught you some tricks, I'll warrant, -against which no simple Christian could stand.' - -'Well said!' shouted one of the women. 'If you are no Spaniard and -no spy, throw down that mask and show your face like an honest man!' - -'Yes! Yes! Throw down the mask!' another in the crowd assented. -'We know you dress like a fine gallant; but we want to see how like -your face is to the picture of Beelzebub which hangs in the Town -Hall.' - -A prolonged shout of ribald laughter, which had no merriment in it, -was the unanimous response to this sally. The women were already -raising their fists: the ever-recurring insult, 'Spanish spy!' had -the effect of whipping up everybody's temper against the stranger. -Gilles was defenceless save for his sword, which it would obviously -have been highly impolitic to draw against that rabble. Whilst he -parleyed with them, he had succeeded by a deliberate manoeuvre in -drawing considerably nearer to the high wall of the Archiepiscopal -Palace, where the latter abuts on the cathedral close, and he hoped -with some good luck, or a sudden, well-thought-out ruse, to reach the -gates ere the hostility of the crowd turned to open attack. - -That both the men and the women--oh! especially the women!--meant -mischief, there could be no doubt. There was that gruff murmur going -the round, which means threats muttered between closed teeth; sleeves -were being rolled above brawny or gaunt arms; palms moistened ere -they gripped stick or even knife a little closer. Gilles saw all -these signs with the quick, practised eye of the soldier, and it was -his turn to grind his teeth with rage at his own impotence to defend -himself adequately if it came to blows. Just for the moment the -crowd was still sullen rather than openly aggressive, and, much as -the thought of beating a retreat went against the grain of Gilles' -hot temperament, there was no doubt that it were by far the wisest -course to pursue. - -But there were one or two units in the midst of that gang who were -determined that the flame of enmity against the stranger should not -die for want of fuel. They were apparently on the fringe of the -malcontents, in a safe position in the rear, and from there they -threw out a word now and again, a sneer or an insult, whenever there -appeared the slightest slackening in the hostile attitude of their -friends. - -'He wouldn't like to show us his face,' one of this gentry said now, -with a mocking laugh; 'for fear we should see how bloated he is with -good food and wine.' - -'Spawn of the devil!' at once screeched a gaunt, hungry-looking -wretch, and ostentatiously tightened his belt around his middle. -'They all gorge while we starve!' - -'And wallow in riches, while honest citizens have to beg for their -daily bread!' - -A woman, still young, and who might have been comely but for the -miserable appearance of her unwashed face and lank, matted hair, -pushed her way through the throng right into the forefront of the -men. She dragged a couple of half-naked children in her wake, who -clung weeping to her ragged skirts. - -'Look at these!' she screamed harshly, and thrust a fist as close to -Gilles' face as she dared. 'Look at these children! You miserable -spy! Starving, I tell you! Starving! While your satin doublet is -bursting with Spanish gold!' - -'Aye!' came with renewed vigour from the rear. 'The price of our -sons' lives, of our daughters' honour, are sacrificed to the tyranny -and the debauchery of such as you!' - -'Shame! Shame!' came in a dull, ominous murmur from the rest of the -throng. - -There was no doubt that tempers were waxing more and more ugly. In -more than one pair of bloodshot eyes which were glaring at him, -Gilles saw the reflection of a lust which was not far removed from -that of murder. It was no use looking on the matter with -indifference; his life was being threatened, and there were men -actually present among the crowd who were making it their business to -goad this rabble into ever-increasing fury. The latter were in -themselves too obtuse to realize that they were acting under -guidance, that their choler would no longer be allowed to cool down -nor they permitted to let the stranger go unmolested. Their tempers, -their own stupidity, their miseries, poor wretches, had made them the -slaves of de Landas' gang. - -Gilles had been shrewd enough to suspect the plot almost from the -first. - -'I marvel,' he had already said to himself, 'if my gallant with the -Spanish accent and the languorous eyes has had a finger in this -delectable pie. Between employing paid spadassins to commit -deliberate murder and egging on a set of hungry wretches into -achieving manslaughter, there is little to choose, and Messire de -Landas has no doubt adopted the less risky course.' - -But for the nonce self-preservation became the dominant necessity, -and Gilles, feeling himself so closely pressed that his free -movements were becoming hampered, executed a swift manoeuvre of -retreat which landed him a second or two later with his back against -the high encircling walls of the Archiepiscopal Palace, and with the -stately limes of the Palace gardens waving their emerald-laden -branches above his head. Were his position not quite so precarious, -he might have laughed aloud at its ludicrousness. He, Gilles de -Crohin, masquerading as a Prince of Valois, and set upon for being a -Spanish spy!! That fellow, de Landas, was a clever rogue! But it -was a dirty trick to use these wretched people as his tools! - -Aloud, he shouted, as forcibly and vigorously as he could: 'Now then, -my friends! Have I not already told you that I am no Spaniard? I am -a Frenchman, I tell you, and my Liege Lord the King of France is even -at this hour busy trying to free you from your Spanish tyrants. -He----' - -'Hark at him!' came at once, to the accompaniment of deafening -clamour, from the rear. 'Feeding us with lies. 'Tis the way of -spies to assume any guise that may suit their fancy or their pocket. -Friends! Citizens! Do not let the Spaniard trick you! Why is he -here, I ask you? If he is a Frenchman, why doth he go about masked? -What is he doing here? Bargaining with the Duke of Parma, I say, -with your lives and your liberties.' - -'Silence, you fool!' cried Gilles, in stentorian tones. 'You -miserable cur! Who pays you, I would like to know, to incite these -poor people to break the laws of peace and order?' - -'Peace and order, forsooth!' retorted the voice from the rear, with a -prolonged, harsh laugh. 'You want peace, no doubt, so that your -master the Spanish King can work his way with Cambray, send his -soldiers into our city to burn our houses, pillage our homes, outrage -our wives and daughters! Citizens, remember Mechlin! Remember Mons! -Beware lest this man sell your city to the Spaniards and you reap the -same fate as your kinsmen there!' - -A stupendous cry of rage and execration greeted this abominable -tirade--as abominable, indeed, as it was ludicrous. One moment of -sober reflection would have convinced these poor, deluded fools how -utterly futile and false were the assertions made by those who were -goading them to exasperation. But a crowd never does reflect once it -is aroused, once a sufficient number of hotheads are there, ready to -drive them from empty bluster to actual violence. The paid agents of -M. de Landas had done their work well. They had sown seeds of -disaffection, of mistrust and of hostility, for days past and weeks; -now they were garnering just the amount of excitement necessary to -bring about a dastardly crime. - -Gilles, with his back against the wall, was beginning to think that -he would have to make a fight for it after all. Already the crowd -was closing in around him, pressing closer and closer, completing the -semicircle which barred his only means of escape. He tried to make -himself heard, but he was shouted down. The work of the agitators -was indeed complete; the rabble needed no more egging on. Men and -women were ready for any mischief--to seize the stranger, tear off -the rich clothes from his back, ransack his pockets, knock him on the -head and finally drag him through the streets and throw him either -into the river or over the battlements into the moat. - -It became a question now how dearly Gilles would be able to sell his -life. He could no longer hope to reach the gates of the Palace, and -the vast courtyard, gardens and precincts which surrounded the house -itself rendered it highly improbable that any one would hear the -tumult and come to his assistance. Over the heads of the crowd, he -could see the great, open Place where a patrol of the town guard was -wont to pass from time to time on its beat. For some unexplainable -reason there appeared to be no patrol in sight to-day. Had they been -bribed to keep out of the way? It was at least possible. Some one -had evidently planned the whole of this agitation, and that some -one--an unscrupulous devil, thought Messire, if ever there was -one!--was not like to have left the town guard out of his reckoning. - -Even while Gilles took this rapid, mental survey of his position, one -of the men in the rear had suddenly stooped and picked up a loose -stone out of the gutter. Gilles saw the act, saw the man lift the -stone, brandish it for a moment above his head and then fling it with -all his might. He saw it just in time to dodge the stone, which -struck the wall just above his head. - -'Not a bad fling, my man,' he said lightly. 'But 'twas the act of a -coward!' - -Then he drew his sword--was forced to do it, because the crowd were -pressing him close, some with sticks, others with fists. The -square-shouldered man of awhile ago--he with the bandy legs--had a -butcher's knife in his hand. - -'Murder!' shrieked the women, as soon as Gilles' sword darted out of -its sheath like a tongue of living flame. - -'Aye, murder!' he riposted. 'I can see it in your eyes! So stand -back, all of you, or the foremost among you who dares to advance is a -dead man.' - -They did not advance. With a churl's natural terror of the sword, -they retreated, realizing for the first time that it was a noble -lord, an exalted personage whom, in their blindness, they had dared -to attack. Spaniard or no, he was a gentleman; and suddenly the -thought of floggings or worse for such an outrage dissipated the -fumes of folly, which some unknown person's rhetoric had raised -inside their brains. - -De Landas' agents in the rear saw this perceptible retreat. Another -moment or two, and their carefully laid schemes would certainly come -to naught. Failure for them now was unthinkable. The eyes of their -employer were undoubtedly upon them, even though they could not see -him, and they knew from past bitter experience how relentless the -young Spanish lord could be if his will was thwarted through the -incompetence of his servants. One of them--I think his name was -Jan--bolder than the others, called to his comrades and to those on -the fringe of the crowd who had not been scared by the sight of that -fine Toledo blade, gave them the lead, which they promptly followed, -of picking up more stones out of the gutter and flinging them at the -stranger one after another in rapid succession. Some of this -stone-throwing was very wild, and Gilles was able to dodge most of -the missiles, whilst others actually hit some of the crowd. A woman -received one on the shoulder; the bandy-legged bully another on the -head. Blood now was flowing freely, and the sight of blood acts on a -turbulent crowd in the same way as it does on a goaded bull. No -longer frightened of the sword, the riotous crew began to attack the -stranger more savagely. One man struck at him with a stick, another -tried to edge nearer in order to use a knife. - -Stones were being flung now from every point, and soon it became -impossible to dodge them all. The crowd had become a screeching mob, -bent on outrage and on murder. The screams of women, the cries of -little children, mingled with hoarse cries of rage and volleys of -unspeakable insults. The sight of blood had of a truth turned a knot -of malcontents into a pack of brute beasts, fuming with an insatiable -desire to kill. - -As fast as the stones fell around him, Gilles picked them up and -flung them back. These seldom missed their mark, and already several -of his assailants had been forced to retreat from the field. But now -a piece of granite hit him on the sword-arm and he had barely the -time to transfer his sword to his left hand in order to ward off a -thrust aimed at him with a knife, just below the belt. His right arm -hung limp by his side, aching furiously; a small piece of sharp stone -had grazed his forehead, and with an unconsidered gesture, he tore -the mask from his face, for the blood was streaming beneath it into -his eyes. But that movement--wellnigh instantaneous as it -was--placed him at a greater disadvantage still, for another stone, -more accurately aimed than some others, hit his left arm so violently -that, but for an instinctive, nervy clutch on the hilt, his sword -would have fallen from his grasp. - -After that, he remembered nothing more. A red veil appeared to -interpose itself between his eyes and that mass of vehement, raging, -perspiring humanity before him. Each individual before him seemed to -the weary fighter to assume greater and ever greater proportions, -until he felt himself confronted with a throng of giants with -distorted faces and huge, ugly jaws, through which a hot fire came, -searing his face and obscuring his vision. Instinctively he still -dodged the missiles, still parried with his sword; but his movements -were mechanical; he felt that they were becoming inefficient ... that -he himself was exhausted ... vanquished. Vaguely he marvelled at -Destiny's strange caprice, which had decreed that he should die, -assassinated by a set of shrieking men and women, whom he had never -wronged even by a thought. - -Then suddenly the whole wall behind him appeared to give way, and he -sank backwards into oblivion. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -HOW A SECOND AWAKENING MAY BE MORE BITTER THAN THE FIRST - - -I - -It all seemed like the recurrence of that lovely dream of long -ago--the awakening to a sense of well-being and of security; the -sweet-smelling couch; the clean linen; the fragrance of the air, and -above all the tender, pitying blue eyes and the tiny brown mole which -challenged a kiss. - -When Gilles opened his eyes, he promptly closed them again, for fear -of losing that delicious sensation of being in dreamland, which -filled his whole body and soul with inexpressible beatitude. But -even as he did so, a gentle voice, light and soothing as the murmur -of a limpid stream, reached his ear. - -'Will you not look up once more, Messire,' the angelic voice said -softly, 'and assure me that you are not grievously hurt?' And oh! -the little tone--half bantering, wholly sympathetic--which rippled -through those words with a melodious sound that sent poor Gilles into -a veritable heaven of ecstasy. - -But he did look up, just as he was bidden to do--looked up, and -encountered that tantalizing little mole at such close quarters that -he promptly raised his head, so that his lips might touch it. -Whereupon the mole, the blue eyes, the demure smile, the whole -exquisite face, retreated with lightning rapidity into some obscure -and remote distance, and Gilles, conscious that only gentle pity -would bring them nearer to him again, groaned loudly and once more -closed his eyes. - -But this time these outward signs of suffering were greeted with a -mocking little laugh. - -'Too late, Messire! You have already betrayed yourself. You are not -so sick as you would have me believe!' - -'Sick? No!' he retorted; but made no attempt to move. 'Dead, more -like! and catching my first glimpse of paradise.' - -'Fie, Messire!' she exclaimed gaily. 'To make so sure of going -speedily to Heaven!' - -'How can I help being sure when angels are present to confirm my -belief?' - -'But you are not in Heaven,' she assured him, and smiled on him -archly from out a frame of tender, leafless branches. 'You are in an -arbour in the park, whither I and two of my servants brought you when -you fell into our arms at the postern gate.' - -He raised himself upon his elbow, found he could do it without much -pain; then looked about him searchingly and wonderingly. He was -lying on a couch and his head had apparently been resting on a couple -of velvet cushions. All around him the still dormant tendrils of -wild clematis wound in and out of skilfully constructed woodwork. -Overhead, the woodwork was shaped to a dome, and straight in front of -him there stretched out a vista over the park of a straight, grass -walk, bordered with beds of brilliantly coloured tulips and hyacinths -and backed by a row of young limes, on which the baby leaves gleamed -like pale emeralds, whilst far away the graceful pinnacles of the -cathedral stood out like perfect lace-work against the vivid blue of -the sky. - -'Well, Messire,' resumed Jacqueline lightly, after awhile, 'are you -convinced now that you are still on earth, and that it was by human -agency that you arrived here, not on angels' wings?' - -'No, I am not convinced of that, Madame,' he replied. 'At the same -time, I would dearly like to know how I did come here.' - -'Simply enough, Messire. I was taking my usual walk in the park, -when I heard an awful commotion on the other side of the wall. I and -my two servants who were with me hurried to the postern gate, for of -a truth the cries that we heard sounded threatening and ominous. One -of my servants climbed over the shoulders of the other and hoisted -himself to the top of the wall, from whence he saw that a whole crowd -armed with knives and sticks was furiously attacking a single man, -who was standing his ground with his back against the postern gate, -whilst we could all hear quite distinctly the clash of missiles -hurled against the wall. To pull open the gate was the work of a few -seconds, and you, Messire, fell backwards into my--into my servants' -arms.' - -Then, as he made no sign, said not a word, only remained quite -still--almost inert--resting on his elbow and gazing on her with eyes -filled with passionate soul-hunger, she added gently: - -'You are not in pain, Messire?' - -'In sore pain, ma donna,' he replied with a sigh. 'In incurable -pain, I fear me.' - -The tone of his voice, the look in his eyes while he said this, made -it impossible for her not to understand. She lowered her eyes for a -moment, for his glance had brought a hot blush to her cheeks. There -was a moment of tense silence in the little arbour--a silence broken -only by the murmur of the breeze through the young twigs of the wild -clematis and the call of a robin in the branches of the limes. -Jacqueline was the first to rouse herself from this strange and sweet -oppression. She gave a quick little sigh and, unable to speak, she -was turning to go away, flying as if by instinct from some insidious -danger which seemed to lurk for her in the wild, tremulous beating of -her heart. - -'Jacqueline!' - -She had not thought that her name could sound so sweet as it did just -then, when it came to her in a fervent, passionate appeal from the -depths of the fragrant arbour, where awhile ago she and her servants -had laid Messire down to rest. She did not turn her head to look on -him now, but nevertheless paused on the threshold, for her heart was -beating so fast that she felt almost choked, and her knees shook so -that she was forced to cling with one hand to the curtain of young -twigs which hung at the entrance of the arbour. - -The next moment he was by her side. She felt that he was near her, -even though she still kept her head resolutely turned away. He put -one knee to the ground and, stooping, kissed the hem of her gown. -And Jacqueline--a mere child where knowledge of the great passion is -concerned--felt that something very great and very mysterious, as -well as very beautiful, had suddenly been revealed to her by this -simple act of homage performed by this one man. She realized all of -a sudden why those few weeks ago, when the mysterious singer with the -mellow voice had sung beneath her window, the whole world had seemed -to her full of beauty and of joy, why during these past long and -weary days while Messire lay sick and she could not see him, that -self-same world became unspeakably drab and ugly. She knew now that, -with his song, the singer had opened the portals of her heart, and -that, unknown to herself, she had let Love creep in there and make -himself a nest, from whence he had alternately tortured her or made -her exquisitely happy. Tears which seared and soothed rose to her -eyes; a stupendous longing for something which she could not quite -grasp, filled her entire soul. And with it all, an infinite sadness -made her heart ache till she could have called out with the pain of -it--a sense of the unattainable, of something perfect and wonderful, -which by a hideous caprice of Fate must for ever remain out of her -reach. - -'It can never be, Messire!' was all that she said. The words came -like a cry, straight from her heart--a child's heart, that has not -yet learned to dissemble. And that cry spoke more certainly and more -tangibly than any avowal could have done. In a moment, Gilles was on -his feet, his arms were round her shoulders and his face was buried -in her fragrant hair. And she, unresisting, yielded herself to him, -savoured the sweetness of his caresses, the touch of his lips on her -eyes, her cheeks, her mouth. Her ardent nature, long held in fetters -by convention, responded with all its richness to the insistent call -of the man's passionate love. - -'You love me, Jacqueline?' he asked, and looked down into the depths -of those exquisite blue eyes which had captured his soul long ago and -made him their slave until this hour, when they in their turn yielded -entirely to him. - -'Verily,' she replied quaintly, and looked shyly into his glowing -face; 'I do believe, in truth, Messire, that I do.' - -Let those who can, blame Gilles de Crohin for losing his head after -that, and for promptly forgetting everything that he ought to have -remembered, save the rapture of holding her to his breast. Of a -truth, duty, honour, promises, the Duc d'Anjou and Madame la Reyne, -were as far from his ken just now as is a crawling worm from the -starry firmament above. He was going away to-day--out, out into a -great world, into the unknown, where life could be made anew, where -there would be neither sorrow nor tears, if he could carry this -exquisite woman thither in his arms. - -'I cannot let you go, ma donna,' he murmured as he held her closer -and ever closer, and covered her lips, her neck, her throat with -kisses. 'No power on earth can take you from me now that I have you, -that I hold you, my beautiful, exquisite flower. You love me, -Jacqueline?' he asked her for the tenth time, and for the tenth time -she murmured in response: 'I love you!' - -Time had ceased to be. The world no longer existed for these two -happy beings who had found one another. There was only Love for -them--Love, pure and holy, and Passion, that makes the world go -round. There was spring in the air, and the scent of awakening life -around them, the fragrance of budding blossom, the call of birds, the -hum of bees--Nature, exquisite, wonderful in her perfect selfishness, -and in her oblivion of all save her own immutable Self. - -'You love me, Jacqueline?' - -'I love you!' - -'Then, in the name of God that made us to love one another,' he -entreated with ever-growing fervour, 'let us forget everything, leave -everything, dare all for the sake of our Love. It can never be, you -say ... everything can be, mignonne; for Love makes everything -possible. Rank, wealth, duty, country, King--what are they but -shadows? Leave them, my flower! Leave them and come to me! Love is -true, love is real! Come with me, Jacqueline, and by the living God -who made you as perfect as you are, by your heavenly blue eyes and -your maddening smile, I swear to you that I will give you such an -infinity of worship that I will make of your life one long, unceasing -rapture.' - -She had closed her eyes, drinking in his ardour with her very soul. -Hers was one of those super-natures which, when they give, do so in -the fullest measure. Being a woman, and one nurtured in self-control -and acute sensitiveness, she did not, even at this blissful moment, -lose complete grasp of herself; unlike the man, her passion did not -carry her entirely into the realm of forgetfulness. She yielded to -his kisses, knowing that, as they were the first, so they would be -the last that she would ever savour in the fullness of perfect -ecstasy; that parting--dreary, inevitable, woeful parting--must -follow this present transient happiness. Yet, knowing all that, she -would not forgo the exquisite joy that she felt in yielding, the -exquisite joy, too, that she was giving him. She deliberately -plucked the rich fruit of delight, even though she knew that -inexorable Fate would wrench it from her even before she had tasted -its sweetness to the full. - -It was only when Jacqueline, suddenly waking as from a dream and -disengaging herself gently from his arms, said once again, more -resolutely this time: 'It can never be, Messire!' that Gilles in his -turn realized what he had done. He was brought back to earth with -one of those sudden blows of reawakened consciousness which leave a -man stunned and bruised, in a state of quasi-hebetude. For one -supreme moment of his life the gates of an earthly paradise had been -opened for him and he had been granted a peep into such radiant -possibilities that, dazzled and giddy with joy, he had felt within -himself that sublime arrogance which makes light of every obstacle -and is ready to ride rough-shod over the entire world. - -But the inexorable 'It can never be!' had struck at the portals of -his consciousness, and even before he had become fully sentient he -saw the grim hand of Fate closing those golden gates before his eyes, -and pointing sternly to the path which led down to earth, left him -once more alone with his dream. - -'It can never be!' - -He tried to wrestle with Fate, to wrest from cruel hands that -happiness which already was slipping from his grasp. - -'Why not?' he cried out defiantly. Then, in a final, agonized -entreaty, he murmured once more, 'Why not?' - -Ah! he knew well enough why not! Fool and criminal, to have -forgotten it even for this one brief instant of perfect bliss! Why -not? Ye gods, were there not a thousand reasons why a penniless -soldier of fortune should not dare approach a noble and rich heiress? -and a thousand others why he--Gilles de Crohin--should never have -spoken one word of love to this one woman, who was destined for -another man--and that man his own liege lord. There was a gateless -barrier made up of honour and chivalry and of an oath sworn upon the -cross between his love and Jacqueline de Broyart, which in honour he -should never have attempted to cross. - -Consciousness came back to him with a sudden rush, not only the -consciousness of what he had done, but of what he had now to do. Not -all the bitter tears of lifelong remorse would ever succeed in wiping -out the past; but honour demanded that at least the future be kept -unsullied. - -A final struggle with temptation that was proving overwhelming, a -final, wholly human, longing to keep and to hold this glorious gift -of God; then the last renunciation as he allowed the loved one to -glide out of his arms like a graceful bird, still a-quiver after this -brief immersion in the torrential wave of his passion. Then, as she -stood now a few paces away from him, with wide, sad eyes deliberately -turned to gaze on the distant sky, he passed his hand across his -forehead, as if with the firm will to clear his brain and chase away -the last vestige of the sweet, insistent dream. - -Once more there was silence in the fragrant arbour; but it was the -silence of unspoken sorrow--a silence laden with the portent of an -approaching farewell. Gilles was the first to break it. - -'It can never be, ma donna,' he said quietly, his rugged voice still -shaking with emotion, now resolutely held in bondage. 'I know that -well enough. Knew it even at the moment when, in my folly, I first -dared to kiss your gown.' - -'I was as much to blame as you, Messire,' she said naïvely, her lips -trembling with suppressed sobs. 'I don't know how it came about, -but...' - -'It came about, ma donna,' he rejoined fervently, 'because you are as -perfect as the angels, and God when He fashioned you allowed no human -weakness to mar His adorable work. The avowal which came from your -sweet lips was just like the manna which He gave to the hungry crowd. -I, the poor soldier of fortune, have been made thereby more enviable -than a king.' - -'And yet we must part, Messire?' she said firmly, and withal in her -voice that touching note of childlike appeal which for the -unfortunate dweller on the outskirts of paradise was more difficult -to withstand than were a glass of water to one dying of thirst. 'I -do not belong to myself, you know,' she continued, and looked him -once more serenely in the face. 'Ever since my dear brother died I -have been made to understand that my future, my person, belong to my -country--my poor, sorrowing country, who, it seems, hath sore need of -me. I have no right to love, no right to think of mine own -happiness. God alone in His Omniscience knows how you came to fill -my heart, Messire, to the exclusion of every other thought, of every -other duty. It was wrong of me, I know--wrong and unmaidenly. But -the secret of my love would for ever have remained locked in my heart -if I had not learned that you loved me too.' - -She made her profession of faith so firmly and earnestly and with -such touching innocence that the hot passion which a while ago was -raging in Gilles' heart was suddenly soothed and purified as if with -the touch of a divine breath. A wonderful peace descended on his -soul: he hardly knew himself, his own turbulent temper, his untamed -and passionate nature, so calm and serene did he suddenly feel. -'Yes, we must part, ma donna,' he said, in a simple, monotonous voice -which he himself scarcely recognized as his own. 'We must each go -our way; you to fulfil the great destiny for which God has created -you and to which your sorrowing country calls you; I to watch from -afar the course of your fortunes, like the poor, starving astrologer -doth watch the course of the stars.' - -'From afar?' she said, and her delicate cheeks took on a dull, -lifeless hue. 'Then you will go away?' - -'To-day, please God!' he replied. - -'But, I--' - -'You, ma donna, my beautiful Flower o' the Lily, you will, I pray -Heaven, forget me even as the young, living sapling forgets the -stricken bough which the tempests have laid low.' - -She shook her head. - -'I will never forget you, Messire. If you go from me to-day I will -never know another happy hour again.' - -'May God bless you for saying this! But I have no fear that you will -not be happy. Happiness comes as readily to your call as does a bird -to its mate. You and happiness are one, ma donna. Where you are, -all the joys of earth dwell and flourish.' - -'Not when I am alone,' she said, the hot tears welling to her eyes, -her voice shaken with sobs. 'And thoughts of you--lonely and -desolate--will chase all joy from out my life.' - -'But you must not think of me at all, ma donna,' he rejoined with -infinite tenderness. 'And when you do, when a swift remembrance of -the poor, rough soldier doth perchance disturb the serenity of your -dreams, do not think of him as either lonely or desolate. I shall -never again in life be lonely--never again be desolate. I am now -rich beyond the dreams of men, rich with the boundless wealth of -unforgettable memories.' - -'You talk so readily of forgetting,' she said sadly. 'Will you find -it so easy, Messire?' - -'Look at me, ma donna, and read the answer to your question in mine -eyes.' - -She looked up at him, with that shy and demure glance which rendered -her so adorable and so winning, and in his face she saw so much -misery, such unspeakable sorrow that her heart was seized with a -terrible ache. The sobs which were choking her could no longer be -suppressed. She stuffed her tiny handkerchief into her mouth to stop -herself from crying out aloud, and feeling giddy and faint, she sank -on to a pile of cushions close by and buried her face in her hands, -letting her tears flow freely at last, since she was not ashamed of -the intensity of her grief. - -Gilles could have dashed his head against the nearest tree-trunk, so -enraged was he with himself, so humiliated at his own weakness. How -deeply did he regret now that de Landas' sword had not ended his -miserable life, before he had brought sorrow and tears to this woman -whom he worshipped. What right had he to disturb her peace of mind? -What right to stir to the very depths of her fine nature those strong -passions which, but for his clumsy touch, might for ever have -remained dormant? - -And through it all was the sense of his own baseness, which had come -upon him with a rush--his treachery to Madame la Reyne, his falseness -to his sworn oath. Love for this beautiful woman had swept him off -his feet, caught him at a weak and unguarded moment and left him now -covered with humiliation and self-reproach, an object of hatred to -himself, for ever in future to be haunted by the recurrent vision of -the loved one's face bathed in tears and by the sound of those -harrowing sobs which would until the end of time rend his soul with -unutterable anguish. - -'Would to God we had never met!' he murmured fervently. - -And she had sufficient courage, sufficient strength, to smile up at -him through her tears, murmuring with enchanting simplicity: - -'Would to God we had not to part.' - -What else could he do but fall on his knees in mute adoration, and -with the final, heartbroken farewell dying upon his lips? He stooped -low until his head nearly touched the ground. Her small foot in its -velvet shoe peeped just beneath the hem of her gown, and with a last -act of humble adoration, he pressed his lips upon its tip. - -'Farewell, my adored one,' he said softly, as he straightened out his -tall, massive figure once more. 'With my heart and my soul I worship -you now and for all time. Even though I may never again look upon -your loveliness, the memory of it will haunt me until the hour of -death, when my spirit--free to roam the universe--will fly to you as -surely as doth the swallow to its mate. And if in the future,' he -added with solemn earnestness, 'aught should occur to render me -odious in your sight, then I pray you on bended knees and in the name -of this past unforgettable hour, to remember that, whatever else I -may have done that was unworthy and base, my love for you has been as -pure and sacred as is the love of the lark for the sun.' - -And, before she could reply, he was gone. She watched his tall -figure striding rapidly away along the grass walk, until he became a -mere speck upon the shimmering distance beyond. Soon he disappeared -from view altogether, and Jacqueline was left alone with memory. - - - -CHAPTER XIX - -WHAT JACQUELINE WAS FORCED TO HEAR - - -I - -Indeed, to Jacqueline, even more so than to her lover, this last -half-hour appeared more unreal than a dream. For a long time after -Gilles had gone she remained sitting on the pile of cushions at the -entrance of the arbour, gazing, gazing far away into the translucent -sky, struggling with that life-problem which to the ingenuous hath so -oft remained unsolved: If God gave me that happiness, why did He take -it away again so soon? - -Life appeared before her now as one long vista of uninterrupted -dreariness. With her heart dead within her, she would in truth -become the pawn in political games which her guardian had always -desired that she should be. Well! no doubt it was all for the best. -Awhile ago, ere she had met Messire, ere he had taught her to read in -the great Book of Love, she had been headstrong and rebellious. A -loveless marriage of convention, a mere political alliance would have -revolted her and mayhap caused grave complications in her troubled -country's affairs. Now, nothing mattered. Nothing would ever matter -again. Since happiness was for ever denied her, she was far more -ready to sacrifice her personal feelings to her country's needs than -she had been before. - -Her joy in life would for the future be made up of sacrifice, and if -she could do her beloved and sorely-stricken country a permanent -benefit thereby, well! she would feel once more that she had not -lived her life in vain. - -At this stage she was not actively unhappy. Emotion had torn at her -heartstrings and left her bruised and sore, but her happiness had -been too brief to cause bitter regret. She was chiefly conscious of -an immense feeling of pity for her lover, whose heartache must indeed -be as great as her own. But, for herself, there was nothing that she -regretted, nothing that she would have wished to be otherwise. All -her memories of him were happy ones--except that moment of the -midnight quarrel in the Palace, when for a brief while she had -wilfully misjudged him. Even the final parting from him, though it -broke her heart, had been wholly free from bitterness. She was so -sure of his love that she could almost bear patiently to see him go -away, knowing that she could always treasure his love in her heart as -something pure and almost holy. - -All through life that love would encompass her, would keep her from -evil thoughts and evil intent, whilst nothing on earth could rob her -of the sweets of memory. She loved him and he had wanted her, even -long before she knew him; he had come to Cambray in disguise, under a -mask, and had wooed her in his own romantic fashion, with song and -laughter and joy of living, so different to the amorous sighs and -languorous looks wherewith other swains had striven to win her -regard. She loved the mystery wherewith he had surrounded his -person, smiled at the thought how he had led Monseigneur her guardian -by the nose, and had tried vainly to hoodwink even her--her, -Jacqueline, who had loved him already that night when he had flung -Pierre over the wall and run to her window, singing: 'Mignonne, venez -voir si la rose----' - -And he had thought to hoodwink her after that! thought to throw dust -in her eyes by playing a dual rôle, now masquerading as the Prince de -Froidmont, now as the equerry--he, the chosen of her heart, the man -whose every action, every word was fine and noble and dear.... How -foolish of him to imagine that she could be deceived. Why, there was -that scar upon his hand--a scar the sight of which had loosened a -perfect floodgate of memories--a scar which she herself had helped to -tend and bind three years ago, in the monastery of Gembloux. She -could even remember the leech saying at the time: 'The rascal will be -marked for life, I warrant. I've never seen such a strange wound -before--the exact shape of a cross it is, like the mark on an ass's -back.' - -How well she remembered that night! Her own anxiety for the wounded -man--a poor soldier, evidently, for he was miserably clad; his -clothes were old and had been frequently darned and his pockets only -contained a few sols. He had apparently fought with the French on -that awful day, and had been discovered by herself, lying unconscious -near the monastery wall, up on the hill, more than a league away from -the field of battle. She remembered insisting that the leech should -tend him, and afterwards that he should be taken back to the spot -where the fighting had taken place, in case some friend or comrade be -searching for him. After that, the death of her dear brother and the -change in her fortunes had chased all other memories away, until that -awful night in the Palace, when de Landas had behaved like a coward -and she like a vixen, and the Prince de Froidmont had threaded the -masks of his vanquished enemies upon his sword and thrown them at her -feet. She had seen the scar then upon his hand, and the sight had -troubled her, because of the mystery which it evoked. Then came the -next day, when she sat in the window embrasure in wait for the -Prince's equerry. At once his face had seemed so strangely familiar -to her--and then there was the scar! - -Jacqueline remembered how deeply she pondered over the puzzle then. -The Prince de Froidmont and his equerry were one and the same person; -that was evident, of course. And both these personalities were also -merged in that of the poor soldier whom she had helped to tend in the -monastery of Gembloux. But, unlike most women, she had never tried -to pry into his secrets. Somehow the mystery--if mystery there -was--seemed to harmonize with his whole personality. She loved him -as he was--rough at times, at others infinitely gentle; and oh! the -strength of his love and its ardour when he held her in his arms! -She would be quite satisfied if the mystery remained for ever -unsolved. It was a part of him, not by any means the least amongst -his many attractions in her sight. - -Now he had gone, never to return, leaving her alone with only memory -for company--memory and a huge longing to rest once more in the safe -fold of his protecting arms. - -'Come back to me, Messire!' she called out to him in her heart. -'Take no heed of what I said when in my blind folly I vowed that it -could never be. It shall and must be if you'll only come back to -me--just once--only once--and I should be content. God never meant -that you and I should part before we had each drained the cup of Love -to the end. The world is ours, our Love shall conquer it. Not the -world of riches and of pomp; not even the world of glory. Just a -little kingdom of our own, wherein no one shall dwell but you and -I--a little kingdom bound for me by the span of your arms, my throne -your heart, my crown your kiss.' - - -II - -Dreaming, sighing, longing, Jacqueline sat on in the arbour, -unmindful of time. It was only when the cathedral bell boomed the -midday hour that she awoke--vaguely, still--to the actualities of -life. Of a truth, it seemed difficult to conceive that life in the -future must go on just the same: the daily rounds, the -conventionalities, the social flummeries must all go on, and -she--Jacqueline--would have to smile, to speak, to live on--just the -same. - -And yet nothing, nothing on earth could ever be quite the same again. -It is impossible to delve deeply into the Book of Passion, to have -mastered the lesson which God Himself forbade His children to learn, -and then to look on Life with the same vacant, ignorant eyes as -before. The daily rounds would certainly go on; but life itself -would henceforth be different. The girl--a mere child--had in one -brief half-hour become a woman. Love had transfigured the world for -her. - -But she tried to think of life as he--her knight--would have wished -her to do, to fulfil her destiny so that from afar he might be proud -of her. Above all, she would show a serene face to her world. Her -fellow-citizens here in Cambray had quite enough sorrow to behold, -without having the sight of Madame Jacqueline de Broyart's -tear-stained face constantly before them. There would be much to do -in the near future--much grief to console, many troubles to -alleviate. What was one solitary heartache beside the sufferings of -an entire nation? - -She rose to her feet, feeling more valiant and strong. One last look -she gave round the little arbour which had sheltered her short-lived -happiness. The pale sun peeped in shyly through the interstices of -the woodwork, and threw a shaft of honey-coloured light upon the -couch where he had lain unconscious, after she and her servants had -saved him from the mob. With an impulsive movement which she did not -try to check, she ran up to the couch, and, kneeling down beside it, -she buried her face in the pillows whereon his head had rested. A -few more tears, one long convulsive sob, a heart-broken sigh; then -nothing more. That was the end! the last word in the final chapter -of her romance, the lifelong farewell to her girlish dream. - -Then she dried her eyes resolutely, rose to her feet, and prepared to -return to the Palace. - - -III - -But at the entrance of the arbour she was met by de Landas. He was -standing there, looking at her, with a hideously evil sneer upon his -face. - -She had not spoken with him since that day when she had for ever cast -him out of her heart, had always succeeded in avoiding him when the -exigencies of their mutual social position forced her to be in the -same room with him. To-day she felt as if his very presence was an -outrage. How long he had been there she could not say; how much of -her soul agony he had witnessed caused her a sense of intolerable -humiliation. For the moment he had trapped her, obviously had lain -in wait for her, and was not like to let her go without forcing his -company upon her. There was no other exit to the little arbour, and -she, unable to avoid him, yet loathing the very sight of him, could -only take refuge in an attitude of haughty indifference and of lofty -scorn. - -'I will not pollute you with my touch,' he said coolly, seeing that -at sight of him she had retreated a step or two, as she would have -done had she encountered a noisome reptile. He remained standing in -the doorway, leaning against the woodwork, with arms folded and legs -crossed and an insolent leer in his dark eyes. - -'Then I pray you to let me pass,' was her calm rejoinder. - -'Not,' he riposted, 'till you have allowed me to say something to -you, which hath weighed on my heart these past three weeks.' - -'There is nothing that you can wish to say to me, M. le Marquis, that -I would care to hear.' - -'You are severe, Jacqueline,' he said. Then, as she made no reply -save an indifferent shrug of the shoulders, he added with -well-feigned humility: 'Not more so than I deserve, I know. But I -was delirious on that day. I did not know what I was saying. -Jealousy had completely obscured my brain. You would not make a -madman responsible for his ravings!' - -'Let us leave it at that, M. le Marquis,' she rejoined calmly. 'But -you will understand that I do not care to listen to that same -madman's ravings again.' - -'How cold you are!' he murmured, sighed dolefully like one in utter -grief. His whole attitude suddenly betokened contrition and -overwhelming sentiment; his fine dark eyes even contrived to fill -themselves with tears. 'Have you forgotten so soon, Jacqueline?' he -asked, 'all that you and I have meant to one another in the past; how -oft your golden head hath rested against my heart!' - -But she was not like to be taken in by this mood, the falseness of -which was transparent enough. - -'An' you do not cease to insult me with your ramblings,' she said, -with all the scorn which his contemptible ruse deserved, 'I will call -to my servants to rid me of your presence.' - -'Your servants are too far away to hear you,' he retorted with a -cynical laugh. 'And if you do not listen to me to-day, Jacqueline, -you will put it out of my power to save you from humiliation and your -lover from death.' - -'How dare you!' she exclaimed aloud, roused at last out of her -indifference by his wanton insolence. Whereupon he, seeing that she -was not to be won by honeyed words, threw down the mask in an -instant, appeared in his true colours--false, vengeful and full of -venom, his face distorted by jealous rage, breathing greed and spite -as he spoke. - -'Oh!' he said with a sneer. 'A man who has been flouted and scorned -and who sees a hated rival assuming a position which once was his, is -not like to mince his words. I have nothing to lose at your -hands--remember that, my fine Madame. The full measure of your hate -and of your scorn are my portion now, it seems; while Messire le -Prince de Froidmont is the recipient of your smiles.' - -Outraged to her innermost being by hearing that name, which to her -was almost sacred, profaned by that vile creature's lips, Jacqueline -would readily now have forgotten her dignity, and fled from his -presence if she could, as she would from that of a spirit of evil. -But he divined her wish to flee, feared that she might succeed in -slipping past him; so he seized her by the wrist just as she -meditated a dash past him, and held her so fast and with such a -brutish grip, that but for her courage and sense of dignity, she -could have screamed with pain. - -'Listen to me, Jacqueline,' he said menacingly. 'You must listen! -Think you I will stand by any longer and see the man whom I hate -worse than any man I have ever hated in all my life before, in the -full enjoyment of what I have lost--of your fortune, my winsome -Flemish scrub, the only thing about you which is worth a Spanish -gentleman's while to covet? Oh! but I know more about your love -intrigue, my proud lady, than you think! I knew something of it -before to-day, when, half an hour ago I saw the noble Prince de -Froidmont stealing unmasked out of the postern gate. Unmasked, my -tricksy lady,' he continued with a harsh laugh, 'in more senses than -one; for though he was dressed in the rich clothes affected by the -master, the man who stole out of the postern gate had the features of -the equerry. A pretty story, indeed, this would make for Monseigneur -the governor! Madame Jacqueline de Broyart meeting clandestinely, -like a flirtatious kitchen wench, some nameless adventurer who hath -captured her fancy!' - -'M. de Landas,' she said quite calmly, as soon as he gave her a -chance of making herself heard, 'an you have a spark of manhood left -in you, you will cease these insults and let me go.' - -'What else was it but a clandestine meeting?' he riposted savagely. -'Your flaming cheeks and tear-filled eyes proclaim it loudly enough. -I saw him, I tell you; then I searched for you, but I did not know of -this arbour. Such private trysting-places were never granted me!' - -'M. de Landas,' she reiterated for the third time, 'I desire you to -be silent and to let me go.' - -'So you shall, my dear,' he riposted with his insolent leer. 'So you -shall! You shall be free in a moment or two--free to go quietly back -to your own room and there to ponder over one or two questions which -I am going to put to you, and which mayhap have never occurred to you -before. Who is this Prince de Froidmont? Where did he spring from? -Why does he masquerade, now as the master, anon as his own equerry? -What unavowable secret doth he hide beneath that eternal mask of his? -Can you answer that, my specious lady, who are still fresh from that -enigmatic person's arms? Was it the Prince who kissed you in this -arbour, or was it his servant?' - -Then, as she drew herself up to her full height, looking a veritable -statue of lofty disdain, a world of withering contumely in her fine -eyes, he went on more insidiously: - -'Let me tell you one thing, Jacqueline, of which you obviously are -ignorant. There is no Prince de Froidmont inscribed in France's book -of Heraldry. There is an out-at-elbows Seigneur de Froidmont, whose -fortunes are at so low an ebb that he sells his sword to the highest -bidder. He was last seen in the company of the Duc d'Anjou, the most -dissolute scion of an abandoned race. And those who knew him then, -say that he is tall and broad-shouldered, hath a martial mien and the -air of a soldier. They also say that he has a curiously shaped scar -on the back of his hand. Now, I warn you, Jacqueline, that when next -I meet Monseigneur le Prince de Froidmont, I shall ask him to give me -his hand in friendship, and if he refuses, which he certainly will -do, I shall challenge him to take off his glove ere I smite him in -his lying face with mine.' - -'When you have finished with those vile calumnies, Messire...' began -Jacqueline coldly. - -'Calumnies!' he exclaimed. 'Calumnies, you call them? Then Heaven -help you, for your infatuation has indeed made you blind! But take -care, Jacqueline, take care! The eyes of hate are keener than those -of love.' - -'The eyes of some miserable informant, you mean!' she retorted. - -'Informant? I had no need of an informant to tell me that if a man -shuns the gaze of his fellow-creatures it is because he hath -something unavowable to hide. Beware the man who conceals his face -behind a mask, his identity behind an assumed name! He has that to -conceal which is dishonourable and base. Think on it all, -Jacqueline. 'Tis a friendly warning I am giving you. The path which -you have chosen can only lead to humiliation. Already the people of -Cambray are enraged against the mysterious stranger. Take care lest -Madame Jacqueline de Broyart, duchesse et princesse de Ramèse, be -found bestowing her favours upon a common spy!' - -He released her wrist, having had his say, felt triumphant and elated -too because she had been forced, in spite of herself, to listen to -him. Hers was an intensely mobile face, with sensitive brow and lips -that readily betrayed her thoughts and emotions; and, as he had said -very pertinently, the eyes of hate are sharper than those of love. -He had studied her face while he was pouring the pernicious poison -into her ear. He saw that poison filtrating slowly but surely into -her brain. For the moment she looked scornful, aloof, dignified; -_but she had listened_; she had not called to her servants; she had -not even made a second attempt to escape. Eve once listened to the -smooth persuasion of the serpent; Elsa heard to the end what Ortrude -had to say, and Jacqueline de Broyart, her soul still vibrating in -response to Gilles de Crohin's passionate love, had not closed her -ears to de Landas' perfidy. - -The serpent, having shed his venom, was content. He was subtle -enough not to spoil the effect of his rhetoric by any further words. -Obviously Jacqueline no longer heard him. Her thoughts were already -far away, wandering mayhap in those labyrinthine regions to which a -miscreant's blind hatred had led them. He turned on his heel and -left her standing there, still dignified and scornful. But there was -that in her pose, in the glitter of her eyes and the set of her lips, -which suggested that something of her former serenity had gone. She -still looked calm and indifferent, but her quietude now was obviously -forced; there was a tell-tale quiver round her lips, the sight of -which gave de Landas infinite satisfaction. In her whole person -there was still determination, valour and perfect faith; but it was -militant faith, the courage and trust of a woman fighting in defence -of her love--not the sweet tenderness of childlike belief. - -And with an inward sigh of content, the serpent wriggled quietly away. - - - - -CHAPTER XX - -HOW MORE THAN ONE PLOT WAS HATCHED - - -I - -And now the die was cast. - -Gilles de Crohin stood before Monseigneur the governor of Cambray and -Monsieur le Comte de Lalain in the library of the Archiepiscopal -Palace, and in the name of Monsieur Duc d'Anjou et d'Alençon, asked -for the hand of Madame Jacqueline de Broyart in marriage. - -It was a solemn hour wherein the fate of nations rested in the hand -of men, whilst God withheld His final decree. Gilles had kept his -word to the end. Madame la Reyne could be satisfied. He had put -resolutely behind him all thoughts of his dream and of his own -happiness. His exquisite Jacqueline had ceased to be aught but a -vision of loveliness, intangible, and for him--the poor soldier of -fortune--for ever unattainable. For once in his life he was thankful -for the beneficence of the mask. At least he was spared the effort -of concealing the ravages which misery had wrought upon his face. -What the final struggle had cost him, no one would ever know; even -Maître Jehan had been shut out from the narrow room, wherein a man's -imprisoned soul fought out the grim fight 'twixt love and duty. - -When, an hour later, Messire called to his faithful henchman to help -him don his richest attire, the battle had been won. The man himself -was left heart-broken and bruised, a mere wreck of his former -light-hearted self; but honour and the sworn word had gained the day. -Love lay fettered, passion vanquished. God's will alone should now -be done. - -A great sigh of relief came from d'Inchy when _Monsieur_ had -pronounced the final word which bound him irrevocably to the -destinies of Flanders. He and de Lalain bowed their heads almost to -the ground. Gilles extended his hand to them both and they each -kissed it almost reverently. - -Then they both rose, and d'Inchy said solemnly: - -'No Prince could wear a more glorious crown than that of the -Sovereignty of the Netherlands.' - -And de Lalain added with equal earnestness: - -'And no King could wed a worthier mate.' - -A worthier mate! Ye gods! Gilles could have laughed aloud at the -abjectness of this tragic farce. A worthier mate? Who knew that -better than the unfortunate man who had held her for one brief, -blissful moment in his arms, just long enough to feel how perfect, -how exquisite she was--just long enough to realize all that he had -lost. Truly hell's worst torture could not be more harrowing than -this. - -Wearied to the very top of his bent, Messire did his best to bring -the interview to an end. - -'And now, Messeigneurs,' he said at last, 'I will, by your leave, bid -you farewell. My Maître de Camp, Messire de Balagny, has, as you -know, arrived in Cambray. He will represent me here the while I go -to rejoin my armies.' - -'Your Highness would leave us?' exclaimed d'Inchy with a frown. 'So -soon?' - -'Only to return in triumph, Messire,' replied Gilles, 'at the head of -my armies, after I have brought the Spaniard to his knees.' - -'But Madame Jacqueline,' protested de Lalain. 'The betrothal--' - -'While Cambray is starving, Messire, and the Duke of Parma is at her -gates, there is no time for public festivities. You will convey to -Madame Jacqueline de Broyart my earnest desire that she should confer -the supreme honour upon me by consenting to be my wife.' Then, as -the two men appeared wrapt in moody silence, he added quickly, with I -know not what faint ray of hope within his heart: 'You are doubtful -of her consent?' - -'Doubtful? Oh, no, Monseigneur,' replied d'Inchy. 'Jacqueline de -Broyart is, above all, a daughter of Flanders. She is ready to give -her fortune, herself, all that is asked of her, to the man who will -free her country from its oppressors.' - -'Then the sooner I go ... and return to claim my bride,' rejoined -Gilles dryly, 'the better it will be for us all.' - -'Yes, Monseigneur--but----' - -'But what?' - -'The people of Cambray will wish to see Your Highness with Madame -Jacqueline by your side--her hand in yours--in token of an -irrevocable pledge.' - -'Starving people care little for such flummery, Messire. They will -prefer to see the sentimental ceremony when mine armies have driven -the foe from their city's gates.' - -'But----' - -'Ah, ça, Messeigneurs!' suddenly queried Gilles with growing -impatience. 'Do you, perchance, mistrust me?' - -The protest which came from the two Flemish lords in response to this -suggestion was not perhaps as whole-hearted as it might have been. -Gilles frowned beneath his mask. Here was a complication which he -had not foreseen. He could part from Jacqueline--yes!--he could tear -her sweet image from out his heart, since she could never become his. -He could play his part in the odious comedy to the end--but only on -the condition that he should not see her again or attempt to carry -through the deception which, in her presence, would anyhow be -foredoomed to failure. - -A public betrothal! A solemn presentation to the people, with -Jacqueline's hand in his own, her dear eyes having found him out in -the very first minute that they met again, despite every mask, every -disguise and every trickery! Heavens above! but there was a limit to -human endurance! and Gilles had already reached it, when he -envisaged his beloved as the wife of another man--and that man wholly -unworthy of her. Now he had come to the end of his submission. -Honour and loyalty could go no further. - -Of a truth, it seemed as if some impish Fate would upset, at this -eleventh hour, Madame la Reyne's perfectly laid schemes. The Flemish -lords looked obstinate. It seemed to Gilles that while he himself -had stood silent for the space of a quick heart-beat, cogitating as -to his next course of action, a secret understanding had quickly -passed between the two men. - -This in its turn had the effect of stiffening Gilles' temper. He -felt like a gambler now, whose final stake was in jeopardy. - -'For my part, Messeigneurs,' he said with a clever assumption of -haughty insolence, 'I could not lend myself to a public pageant at -this hour. His Majesty my brother would not wish it. When I enter -Cambray as its conqueror I will claim my promised bride--and not -before.' - -This final 'either--or' was a bold stroke, no doubt: the losing -gambler's last throw. If the Flemings demurred, all was lost. -Gilles, by an almost superhuman effort, contrived to remain outwardly -calm, keeping up that air of supercilious carelessness which had all -along kept the Flemish lords on tenterhooks. Obviously the tone had -aroused their ire, just as it had done many a time before, and Gilles -could see well enough that a final repudiation of the whole bargain -hovered on M. d'Inchy's lips. But once again the counsels of -prudence prevailed; the implied 'take it or leave it,' so insolently -spoken by _Monsieur_, had the effect of softening the two men's -obstinacy. Perhaps they both felt that matters had anyhow gone too -far, even for a man of Monsieur's vacillating temperament to withdraw -from the bargain with a shred of honour. Be that as it may, when -Gilles rejoined a moment or two later with marked impatience: 'Which -is it to be, Messire? Is a Prince of the House of Valois not to be -trusted to keep his word?' d'Inchy replied quite glibly: - -'Oh, absolutely, Monseigneur!' - -'Well, then?' queried Gilles blandly. - -'There is nothing more to be said,' concluded de Lalain. 'And if -your Highness really desires to leave us----' - -'I do desire to rejoin my armies as soon as may be.' - -'Then it shall be in accordance with Monseigneur's wishes. I will -see that everything is made ready for the safety and secrecy of your -journey.' - -'You are more than gracious, Messire,' said Gilles, who had some -difficulty in disguising the intense relief which he felt. 'As you -know, my Maître de Camp, Messire de Balagny, is in Cambray now. He -will be my representative during my brief absence.' - -After that, little more was said. Formal leave-taking took up the -last few minutes of this momentous interview. Gilles had some -difficulty in concealing his eagerness to get away: a dozen times -within those same few minutes he was on the point of betraying -himself, for indeed it seemed ludicrous that the Duc d'Anjou should -be quite so eager to go. However, the two Flemings were in a -distinctly conciliatory mood now. They appeared to desire nothing -save the keeping of His Highness' good graces. - -'Monseigneur will remember that Cambray is on the edge of -starvation!' said d'Inchy earnestly at the last. - -'Give me three months, Messire,' rejoined Gilles lightly, 'and her -joy-bells will be ringing for her deliverance.' - -'For the entry of _Monsieur_ Duc d'Anjou, within her walls?' - -'And the betrothal of Madame Jacqueline de Broyart to a Prince of the -House of France.' - -'A happy hour for the Netherlands, Monseigneur.' - -'And a proud one for me, Messire,' concluded Gilles solemnly. 'For -the Prince of the House of France will not lead his bride to the -altar empty-handed. The freedom of the Netherlands will be her -marriage-portion.' - -'Amen to that,' said the Flemish lords fervently. - - -II - -They kissed the gracious hand which was extended to them; they bent -the knee and took leave of their exalted guest with all the -ceremonial due to his rank. - -But the moment that Gilles had finally succeeded in effecting his -escape, and even before his firm footstep had ceased to echo along -the corridors of the Palace, a complete change took place in the -demeanour of these two noble lords. - -Monseigneur the governor drew inkhorn, pen and paper close to him, -with almost feverish haste; then he began to write, letter after -letter, while his friend watched him in silence. For over half an -hour no sound was heard in tie room save the ceaseless scratching of -d'Inchy's pen upon the paper. Only when half a dozen letters were -written and each had been duly signed and sealed did de Lalain make a -remark. - -'You are sending out orders for a holiday to-morrow?' he asked. - -'Yes,' replied d'Inchy. - -'And orders to de Landas not to allow any one to leave the city?' - -'Yes.' - -'I thought so. You do not trust our wily Prince?' - -'No,' retorted the other curtly. 'Do you?' - -Then, as de Lalain made no reply, since indeed that reply was -obvious, d'Inchy went on, in a quick, sharp tone of command: - -'Will you see the Chief Magistrate yourself, my good de Lalain? -Explain to him just what we have in contemplation. A reception in -the Town Hall, the presence of the Provosts of the city and of the -Mayors of the several guilds; the announcement of the betrothal to be -read to the people from the balcony. The Provosts must see to it -that there is a large concourse of people upon the Grand' Place and -that the whole city is beflagged by ten o'clock in the morning, and -wears an air of general festivity.' - -'It shall be done at once,' said de Lalain simply. - -D'Inchy then rang the bell and summoned one of his special messengers -to his presence. As soon as the man appeared, he gave him one of the -letters which he had just written. - -'This to Messire de Landas,' he commanded. 'And see that he has it -without delay.' - -The man retired, and when d'Inchy was once more alone with his -friend, he added complacently: - -'This will close the trap, methinks, on our wily fox.' - -'So long as he doth tumble into it,' remarked de Lalain dryly. - -'He will! He will! You may be sure of that! Imagine him a few -hours hence, ready for his journey and finding every gate closed -against him and the town garrison afoot. I have warned de Landas of -what was in the wind, and given him an outline of my plans for -to-morrow. I can safely trust him to see that no one leaves the city -within the next four and twenty hours, for I have made him personally -accountable to me if any suspected person should effect an escape. -So our fine _Monsieur_ will fume and rage, and demand to see -Monseigneur the governor. The latter, weary and sick, will have long -ago retired to bed. In the morning he will still be sick and unable -to attend to business, until past ten o'clock, when quite -unexpectedly he will have given his exalted guest the slip and -already be engaged on important matters at the Town Hall. Thither -_Monsieur_ will repair at once--you may take your oath on -that--fretting to receive his safe-conduct and be out of the city ere -another twenty-four hours go by. In the meanwhile----' - -'You will have spoken with Madame Jacqueline,' broke in de Lalain -eagerly. 'The Magistrate and the Provosts will have issued their -proclamations, the city will be beflagged and the people assembled on -the Grand' Place, eager to see Madame and her royal betrothed. What -a programme, my good d'Inchy!' he concluded with unstinted -enthusiasm. 'And how wisely conceived! Of a truth, you have -enchained our fox. He cannot now slip out of our sight.' - -When the two old cronies finally took leave of one another, they had -prepared everything for their next day's box of surprise. A surprise -it would be for everybody, and Monseigneur d'Inchy could indeed -congratulate himself on the happy cannon-shot which he would fire off -on the morrow, and which would wake this sad and dormant city from -its weary somnolence. The alliance with the Royal House of France -would prove a splendid stimulus for the waning courage of the people, -whilst a fickle Valois Prince would at the same time learn that it is -not easy to play fast and loose with a nation that was ruled by such -diplomatic and determined men as were M. le Comte de Lalain and -Monseigneur d'Inchy, governor of Cambray. - - -III - -As for de Landas, he probably spent that evening some of the happiest -hours which he had experienced for some time. It seemed indeed as if -Fate, having buffeted him about so unmercifully these past few weeks, -was determined to compensate him for everything that he had suffered. - -When he received Monseigneur's letter, he was still fresh from his -stormy interview with Jacqueline, still fresh from the discovery -which he had made of at any rate a part of his rival's secret. As to -what use he would make of this discovery, he had not yet made up his -mind: his dark, vengeful soul was for the nonce consumed with rage at -thought of seeing Jacqueline happy in the love of the man whom he so -cordially hated. In the ordinary course of events, he would have -been perfectly content to see her married--for political reasons, -lovelessly or even unhappily--to any man who was influential enough -to win her at the hands of her ambitious guardian. But to think of -her bestowing her love and her kisses on another was wont to drive de -Landas to the verge of mania. He did not love Jacqueline de Broyart. -He had told her so, and he knew that her fortune would never be his. -But he had always desired her, and did so still; and such are the -tortuous ways of a depraved heart, that he would have been content to -lose her only if he knew that she would be unhappy. - -Now, suddenly, Fate had changed everything. Instead of impotent rage -and futile scheming, Monseigneur's orders had placed in his hands the -very weapon which he needed to consummate that revenge of which he -dreamed. - - - - 'See to it, My dear de Landas,' Monseigneur had written, 'that - for the next four and twenty Hours a full Company of the Town - garrison is afoot, and that no one leave this City on any pretext - whatsoever. I have prepared a special pageant for the People--a - day of Festivity, wherein I will make a joyful Announcement to - them from the Balcony of the Town Hall. This announcement has a - direct bearing not only on the Future of our sorely-stricken - Province, but also on that of her fairest Daughter. Both these - great Issues are inextricably bound together, and to-morrow will - see them ratified before our assembled people. So, see to it, My - dear de Landas, that the Garrison under your Command do keep - Order in the Town, so that there should be no disturbance likely - to mar the solemnity of the occasion. There are always - Malcontents in every Community and dissentients to every measure - of public good. But I know that You at least have always been at - one with Me in earnest desire to see our beloved country placed - under the protection of our mighty neighbour, and that You will - therefore rejoice with Me that that desire will at last be - fulfilled. Because of Your unswerving loyalty to me and to Our - cause, You shall be the first to know that the mysterious - stranger whom We have so long harboured within Our gates and who - chose to be known to Us all as the Prince de Froidmont, is none - other than Monsieur duc d'Anjou et d'Alençon, Brother of His - Majesty the King of France, who came to Cambray for the express - purpose of wooing Madame Jacqueline de Broyart, Our Ward, to be - his Wife. That he has succeeded in winning her promise is the - announcement which I desire to make to our People to-morrow. I - also will give them the assurance that, in consequence of this - alliance with the royal House of Valois, We may reckon on the - full might and support of France to deliver Us from Our enemies.' - - - -De Landas crushed the welcome letter in his hand in the excess of his -joy. He could have screamed aloud with unholy rapture. - -'There is a fraud here, of course. Monseigneur has been hoodwinked. -The Prince de Froidmont is not Duc d'Anjou!' he cried exultantly. -'This much I know. And now, friend Beelzebub and all your myrmidons, -grant me aid, so that I may unmask that miscreant in a truly dramatic -manner! Something must and shall be done, to turn that fateful hour -to-morrow into one of triumph for me, and of humiliation for the -woman who has dared to scorn my love. As for the man who has filched -her from me, this same hour will be one which shall cover him with -such boundless infamy, that for Jacqueline the very memory of his -kisses will for ever remain an agony of shame.' - -He sent a hasty summons to his intimates--to Maarege, de Borel, du -Prêt and the whole of the gang of hot-headed malcontents, and just -like in the Archiepiscopal Palace, so in the lodgings occupied by -Messire de Landas, a Council of War was held which lasted late into -the night. - - -IV - -It was a dark and stormy evening after a brilliant day; and some time -after the cathedral bell had struck the hour of ten, Messire de -Landas, commanding the town garrison, was making the round of the -city gates. - -He had his man, Pierre, with him--a fellow well known to the guard. -At the gate of Cantimpré, Messire desired that the bridge be lowered, -for he wished to assure himself that everything was as it should be, -over on the right bank of the river. Far away to the right and left, -the lights of the Duke of Parma's encampment could be distinctly -seen. The archers at the gate begged Messire not to venture too far -out into the darkness, for the Spanish patrols were very wide-awake, -and they were like cats for sighting a man in the dark. But Messire -thought it his duty to cross the bridge, and to see if all was well -on the other side. He refused to take a bodyguard with him in case -the Spanish patrols were on the alert. Messire de Landas was known -to be very brave; he preferred to take such risks alone. - -Only his man Pierre accompanied him. - -The archers kept a sharp look-out. But the night was very dark, a -veritable gale was blowing from the south-west, and the driven rain -was blinding. Messire crossed the bridge with Pierre, after which -the darkness swallowed them both up. - -Ten minutes later, the guard at the gate, the archers and gunners, -heard the sharp report of two musket shots, following closely upon -one another, and coming from over the right bank of the river. -Trembling with anxiety, they marvelled if Messire were safe. The -sheriff, who had no special orders from the commandant to meet the -present eventuality, did not know what to do. He was ready to tear -out his hair in an agony of apprehension. Had it not been quite so -dark he would have sent out a search-party, for Messire still -tarried. But, as it was, his men might fall straight into a -_guet-apens_ and be massacred in the gloom, without doing any good to -any one. Skilled and able-bodied men were becoming precious assets -in Cambray: their lives could not be carelessly jeopardized. - -A quarter of an hour of heartrending suspense went by, after which -Messire's footstep was suddenly heard upon the bridge. He returned -alone. The archers and gunners crowded round him, with the anxious -query upon their lips: 'Pierre?' - -No one really cared about Pierre. Messire de Landas and his gang -were not popular in Cambray. But the incident had been rendered -weird and awesome by the darkness and the bad weather, and Messire's -obstinacy in venturing out so far. - -M. de Landas appeared moody and silent. No doubt he felt responsible -for his servant's fate. But he answered the men's questions quite -straightforwardly, more fully too and with less brusqueness than was -his wont when speaking with subordinates. - -'I had my suspicions aroused to-day,' he said, 'by something which -our spies reported to me, that the Spaniards contemplated one of -their famous surprise attacks under cover of this murky darkness. So -I was determined to venture on the Bapaume Road and see if I could -discover anything. Pierre insisted on coming with me. We kept our -eyes and ears open and crawled along in the ditch on hands and knees. -Suddenly we were fired on without any warning. I lay low under cover -of the ditch, not moving, hardly breathing, and thought that Pierre -was doing likewise. I heard the Spanish patrols move noiselessly -away. Then I crept out of my hiding-place, almost surprised at -finding myself alive. I called softly to Pierre, but received no -answer; then I groped about for him. Presently I found him. He had -been shot twice--through the back--and must have died on the instant.' - -The story was plausible enough, nor did any one doubt it. The men -cared so little about Pierre, who was overbearing and surly. But -what had actually happened was vastly different. - -It was this--Messire le Marquis de Landas, accompanied by Pierre, had -in truth crossed the bridge, and as soon as the darkness had -swallowed them up, the two men had walked rapidly along the Bapaume -Road, until they were challenged by a Spanish patrol on duty. -Messire gave the password, and the patrol not only halted but also -stood at attention, for the password which had been given was one -used only by Spanish gentlemen of high rank in the King's armies. - -'You will conduct my servant at once before His Highness the Duke of -Parma,' Messire de Landas said to the man in command of the patrol. - -And to Pierre he added in a whisper: 'All that you have to do when -you see His Highness is to give him this letter from me and tell him -that we are quite prepared for to-morrow.' - -He gave Pierre a letter, then ordered the patrol to fire a couple of -musket-shots. After which, he waited for a few minutes, and finally -returned alone to the city gate. - - - - -CHAPTER XXI - -HOW SOME OF THESE SUCCEEDED - - -I - -Jacqueline was sitting in the self-same deep window-embrasure from -whence she had listened--oh, so long ago!--to that song, which would -for ever remain for her the sweetest song on earth: - - 'Mignonne, allons voir si la rose----' - - -Only a few hours had gone by since she had reached the sublimal -height of ecstatic happiness--only a few hours since she had tasted -the bitter fruit of renunciation. Since then she had had a good cry, -and felt better for it; but since then also she had encountered a -venomous reptile on her way, and had been polluted by its touch. - -Even to suggest that Jacqueline's pure faith in the man she loved had -been troubled by de Landas' insidious suggestions, would be to wrong -her fine and steadfast character. She did not mistrust her knight; -for her he still stood far above the base calumnies hurled at him by -a spiteful rival; but, somehow, de Landas' venom had succeeded in -making her sorrow more acute, less endurable. Oh! if only she could -have shared with her beloved all his secrets and his difficulties, if -only he had thought her worthy of his entire trust! - -Words which he had spoken ere he finally went away rang portentously -in her ear--ominous words, which she had not heeded at the moment, -for her heart was then over-full with the misery of that farewell, -but which now took on, despite herself, a menacing and awesome -significance. - -With frowning brows and hands tightly clasped together, Jacqueline -sat there, motionless, the while memory called back those words which -in very truth did fill her heart with dread. - -'If within the future,' Messire had said, 'aught should occur to -render me odious in your sight, will you at least remember that, -whatever else I may have done that was unworthy and base, my love for -you has been as pure and sacred as is the love of the lark for the -sun.' - -He had gone after that--gone before she could ask him for an -explanation of these ununderstandable words, before she could affirm -her perfect faith and trust in him. Then the memory of them had -faded from her ken, merged as it was in her great, all-embracing -sorrow, until the wand of a devilish magician had brought them forth -from out the ashes of forgetfulness, and she was left more forlorn -than she had been before. - - -II - -Monseigneur the governor found her in the late afternoon, still -sitting in the window embrasure, the large, lofty room in darkness, -save for the fitful glow of the fire which was burning low in the -monumental hearth. The patter of the rain against the window panes -made a weird, melancholy sound, which alone broke the silence that -hung upon the place with an eerie sense of desolation. Monseigneur -shuddered as he entered. - -'B-r-r-r!' he exclaimed. 'My dear Jacqueline! I had no thought that -you were moping here all alone--and in the dark, too!--or I would -have been here sooner to cheer your spirits with my good news.' - -'You and your good news are right welcome, Monseigneur,' responded -Jacqueline with a pathetic effort at gaiety. 'I was out in the -garden most of the day,' she continued composedly, 'and was resting -for awhile in the gathering dusk, as this awful weather hath made it -impossible to go out again.' - -'Gathering dusk, forsooth!' he retorted. 'Send for your women, -Madame, and order them to bring in the candles. Light! We want more -light, laughter and joy at this hour! I would I could light a -bonfire, to turn the night into day!' - -He was obviously nervy and excited, paced up and down the room in a -state of nerve-tension, very unlike his usual dignified self. -Jacqueline, a little puzzled, obeyed him promptly. She rang the bell -and ordered Nicolle to send in the candles, and while the women -busied themselves about the room, disposing candelabra upon the -tables and consols, she watched her guardian keenly. He certainly -appeared strangely excited, and now and then he darted quick, -inquiring glances upon her, and when she met those glances, he smiled -as if in triumph. - -'Let us sit by the fire, my dear,' he said genially, after he had -dismissed Nicolle and the women with an impatient gesture. 'I came -to see you alone and without ceremony, because I wished for the -selfish pleasure of imparting my good news to you myself.' - -She sat down in the tall chair beside the fire, and Monseigneur sat -opposite to her. She had on a dress of dark-coloured satin, upon the -shiny surface of which the flickering firelight drew quaint and -glowing arabesques. She rested her elbow on the arm of her chair and -leaned her head against her hand, thus keeping her delicate face in -shadow, lest Monseigneur should note the pallor of her cheeks and the -tear-stains around her eyes. But otherwise she was quite composed, -was able to smile too at his eagerness and obvious embarrassment. - -It was his turn to study her keenly now, and he did so with evident -pleasure. Not so very many years ago he, too, had been a young -gallant, favoured by fortune and not flint-hearted either where women -were concerned. He had buried two wives, and felt none the worse for -that, and still ready to turn a compliment to a pretty woman, and to -give her the full measure of his admiration. He would have been less -than a man now, if he had withstood the charm of the pretty picture -which his ward presented, in the harmonious setting of her -high-backed chair, and with the crimson glow of the fire-light -turning her fair hair to living gold. - -'Put down your hand, Jacqueline,' he said, 'so that I may see your -pretty face.' - -'My head aches sadly, Monseigneur,' she rejoined with a pathetic -little sigh, 'and mine eyes are heavy. 'Tis but vanity that causes -me to hold my hand before my face.' - -'Neither headaches nor heavy eyes could mar the beauty of the fairest -lily of Flanders,' he went on with elaborate gallantry. 'So I pray -you humour me, and let me see you eye to eye.' - -She did as he asked, and dropped her hand. Monseigneur made no -remark on her pallor, was obviously too deeply absorbed in his joyful -news to notice her swollen eyes. She tried to smile, and said -lightly: - -'And why should Monseigneur desire to see a face, every line of which -he knows by heart?' - -He leaned forward in his chair and said slowly, keeping his eyes -fixed upon her: - -'Because I wish to behold the future Duchesse d'Anjou and d'Alençon, -the future sister of the King of France!' - -She made no reply, but sat quite still, her face turned toward the -fire, presenting the outline of her dainty profile to the admiring -gaze of her guardian. Monseigneur was silent for a moment or two, -was leaning back in his chair once more, and regarding her with an -air of complacency, which he took no pains to disguise. - -'It means the salvation of the Netherlands!' he said with a deep sigh -of satisfaction. 'We can now count on the whole might of France to -rid us of our enemies, and after that to a long era of prosperity and -of religious liberty, when Madame Jacqueline de Broyart shares with -her lord the Sovereignty of the Netherlands.' - -Jacqueline remained silent, her aching eyes fixed in the hot embers -of the fire. So the blow had fallen sooner than she thought. When, -in the arbour, she had made her profession of faith before her -knight, and told him that she belonged not to herself but to her -country, she did not think that her country would claim her quite so -soon. Vaguely she knew that some day her guardian would dispose of -her hand and fortune, and that she would have to ratify a bargain -made for her person, for the sake of that fair land of Flanders which -was so dear to her. But awhile ago, all that had seemed so remote; -limitless time seemed to stretch out before her, wherein she could -pursue her dreams of the might-have-been. - -Monseigneur's announcement--for it was that--came as a hammer-blow -upon her hopes of peace. She had only just wakened from her dream, -and already the bitter-sweet boon of memory would be denied to her. -Stunned under the blow, she made no attempt at defiance. With her -heart dead within her, what cared she in the future what became of -her body? Since love was denied her, there was always the altruistic -sentiment of patriotism to comfort her in her loneliness; and the -thought of self-sacrifice on the altar of her stricken country would, -perhaps, compensate her for that life-long sorrow which was destined -to mar her life. - -'No wonder you are silent, Jacqueline,' Monseigneur was saying, and -she heard him speaking as if through a thick veil which smothered the -sound of his voice; 'for to you this happy news comes as a surprise. -Confess that you never thought your old guardian was capable of -negotiating so brilliant an alliance for you!' - -'I knew,' she rejoined quietly, 'that my guardian would do everything -in his power to further the good of our country.' - -'And incidentally to promote your happiness, my dear.' - -'Oh!' she said, with an indifferent shrug of the shoulders, 'my -happiness is not in question, is it? Else you would not propose that -I should wed a Prince of the House of Valois.' - -'I am not so sure,' he replied, with a humorous twinkle in his old -eyes. '_Monsieur_ Duc d'Anjou, is not--or I am much mistaken--quite -the rogue that mischievous rumour hath painted.' - -'Let us hope, for my sake,' she retorted dryly, 'that rumour hath -wronged him in all particulars.' - -'In one, at any rate, I'll vouch for that. _Monsieur_ is more than -commonly well-favoured--a handsome figure of a man, with the air and -the voice of a soldier.' - -'You know him well?' - -'I have seen much of him,' said Monseigneur with an enigmatic smile, -'these past four weeks.' - -'These past four weeks?' she exclaimed. 'But you have not been out -of Cambray.' - -'Nor has he,' put in Monseigneur quietly. - -She frowned, deeply puzzled. - -'_Monsieur_ Duc d'Anjou hath been in Cambray?' she asked, 'these past -four weeks?' - -He nodded. - -'And I have never seen him?' - -'Indeed you have, my dear Jacqueline; on more than one occasion.' - -'Not to my knowledge, then.' - -'No. Not to your knowledge.' - -'I don't understand,' she murmured. 'Why should so exalted a prince -as the Duc d'Anjou be in Cambray all this while?' - -'Because he desired to woo Madame Jacqueline de Broyart, duchesse et -princesse de Ramèse.' - -'Without my knowledge?' - -'Without your knowledge--outwardly.' - -'What do you mean?' - -'Oh! nothing very obscure, my dear; nothing very remarkable. -_Monsieur_ Duc d'Anjou is young--he hath a romantic turn of mind. He -admired you and desired you in marriage, but chose to woo you--have I -not said that he is romantic?--chose to woo you under a mask.' - -She gave a gasp, and quickly put her hand to her mouth to smother a -cry. She sat bolt upright now, her two hands clutching the arms of -her chair, her eyes--wide open, glowing, scared--fixed upon her -guardian. He, obtuse and matter-of-fact, mistook the gasp and the -tense expression of her face. - -'No wonder you are aghast, my dear,' he said cheerily. 'Not -unpleasantly, I hope. More than once it seemed to your old guardian -that _Monsieur's_ martial presence was not altogether distasteful to -you. He hath sharper eyes, hath the old man, than you gave him -credit for--what? Ah, well! I was young too, once, and I still like -to bask in the sunshine of romance. 'Twas a pretty conceit on -_Monsieur's_ part, methinks, to pay his court to you under a -disguise--to win your love by the charm of his personality, ere you -realized the great honour that a Prince of the Royal House of France -was doing to our poor country, by wooing her fairest maid.' - -Monseigneur continued to ramble on in the same strain. Jacqueline -hardly heard what he said. She was striving with all her might to -appear composed, to understand what the old man was saying, and to -reply to him with some semblance of coherence. Above all, she was -striving to get the mastery over her voice, for presently she would -have to speak, to say something which would shake her guardian's -complacency, open his eyes to the truth, the whole hideous, -abominable truth; without ... without ... Heavens above, this must be -a hideous dream! - -'It was all arranged with de Montigny, you remember?' Monseigneur -continued, still engrossed in his own rhetoric, too blind to see that -Jacqueline was on the verge of a collapse. '_Monsieur_ was so -fanciful, and we had to give in to him. We all desired the alliance -with our whole hearts, and Madame la Reyne de Navarre did approve of -our schemes. I must say that de Lalain and I were against the -masquerade at first, but _Monsieur's_ soldierlike personality soon -won our approval. And imagine our joy when we realized that our dear -Jacqueline was not wholly indifferent to him either. He came to us -this afternoon and made formal demand for your hand in marriage.... -So de Lalain and I have taken measures that our poor people do have a -holiday to-morrow, when Madame Jacqueline de Broyart, duchesse et -princesse de Ramèse, will solemnly plight her troth to _Monsieur_ Duc -d'Anjou. So, my dear Jacqueline, I entreat you to wear your -loveliest gown. Flanders is proud of her fairest flower. Monsieur -desired to rejoin his armies to-day and leave the ceremony of -betrothal waiting for happier times; but de Lalain and I would not -hear of it. Everything is prepared for a festive holiday. Of a -truth, to-morrow's forenoon will see the happiest hour which our -sadly-afflicted province hath seen these many years.' - -He paused; I think, for want of breath: he certainly had been talking -uninterruptedly for the past ten minutes, going over the whole ground -of de Montigny's mission, _Monsieur's_ romantic desire and the final -demand in marriage, till Jacqueline could have screamed to him to -cease torturing her. The hideousness of the mystery appalled her: -some dark treachery lurked here somewhere and she was caught in a net -of odious intrigues, out of which for the moment she could see no -issue. A feeling of indescribable horror came over her--a nameless, -unspeakable terror, as in the face of a yawning, bottomless abyss, on -the brink of which she stood and into which an unseen and mighty hand -would presently hurl her. - -Something of that appalling state of mind must have been reflected in -her face, despite the almost superhuman effort which she made not to -allow Monseigneur to guess at what was going on in her mind; for -presently he looked at her more keenly, and then said gently: - -'Jacqueline, my dear, you look so strange. What is it? Hath my news -so gravely startled you?' - -She shook her head, and when he reiterated his question, and leaned -forward in order to take her hand, she contrived to say, moderately -calmly, even though every word came with an effort from her parched -throat: - -'The man with the mask? ... The Prince de Froidmont? ... You are -sure?' - -'Sure of what, my dear?' he riposted. - -'That he is the Duc d'Anjou?' - -Monseigneur laughed loudly and long, apparently much relieved. - -'Oh! is that what troubles you, my child?' he said gaily. 'Well -then, let me assure you that I am as sure of that as that I am alive. -Why!' he added, evidently much surprised, 'how could you ask such a -funny thing?' - -'I did not know,' she murmured vaguely. 'Sometimes an exalted prince -will woo a maid by proxy ... so I thought...' - -But evidently the idea of Jacqueline's doubts greatly tickled -Monseigneur's fancy. - -'What a strange conceit, my child!' he said with condescending -indulgence. 'By proxy, forsooth! His Highness came himself, not -more than three days after Messire de Montigny completed negotiations -with him at La Fère. He desired to remain incognito and chose to -lodge in a poor hostelry; but Madame la Reyne de Navarre begged us in -a letter writ by her own august hand, to make _Monsieur_ Duc d'Anjou, -her dear brother, right welcome in Cambray. By proxy!' and -Monseigneur laughed again, highly amused. 'Why, His Highness was in -my study but two hours ago, and made formal proposal for your hand in -marriage!' - -Then, as the door behind him was thrown open and old Nicolle, -shuffling in, announced M. le Comte de Lalain, d'Inchy turned to his -old friend and said, highly delighted with what he regarded as a good -joke: - -'Ah, my good de Lalain! You could not have come at a more opportune -moment. Here is our ward, so bewildered at the news that she asks me -whether I am sure that it is truly _Monsieur_ Duc d'Anjou who has -been masquerading as the Prince de Froidmont. Do reassure the -child's mind, I pray you; for in truth she seems quite scared.' - -De Lalain, always a great stickler for etiquette, had in the -meanwhile advanced into the room, and was even now greeting -Jacqueline with all the ceremonial prescribed by Maître Calviac. -Then only did he reply soberly: - -'Sure, Madame? Of course we are sure! Why, 'tis not two hours since -he was standing before us and asking for the hand of Madame -Jacqueline de Broyart in marriage. We knelt before him and kissed -his hand, and to-morrow we'll present him to the people as the future -Sovereign Lord of the Netherlands.' - -'And so, my dear Jacqueline----' concluded d'Inchy. But he got no -further, gave a loud call to Nicolle and the women; for Madame had -uttered a pitiful moan, slid out of her chair, and was now lying on -the floor in a swoon. - - - - -CHAPTER XXII - -WHILE OTHERS FAILED - - -I - -Of a truth, Monseigneur the governor was not gravely perturbed by his -ward's sudden attack of faintness. He knew that women were subject -to megrims and sundry other fancies, and he was willing to admit that -in his excitement he had, perhaps, been too abrupt with her and too -brusque. She had been scared, bewildered, no doubt, and lost -consciousness in her agitation. But old Nicolle had quickly come to -the rescue with restoratives; and with the prerogative of an old and -trusted servant, she had bundled Monseigneur and Monsieur de Lalain -incontinently out of the room. Madame would soon be well, she said, -only needed rest. She was overwrought and over fatigued with so many -banquets and public functions--such late hours, too; and Madame not -twenty! Young people needed plenty of sleep, and Madame, after a -good and peaceful night, would be quite well on the morrow. - -So Monseigneur, fully reassured, went back to his apartments and to -his own business. There was still a great deal to be done, a great -deal to see to--many people to interview and many more orders to -give, to ensure that to-morrow's ceremony should be conducted not -only with perfect smoothness, but also that the preparations for it -be concluded with perfect secrecy. - -M. de Lalain, d'Inchy's old friend, was an invaluable helpmate, and -de Landas too had for the occasion thrown off that supercilious -manner which he had adopted of late, and had entered fully into the -spirit of the affair. There was no fear that the wily Valois fox -would slip from out the trap which was being so skilfully laid for -him. - -Already messengers, dressed in Monseigneur the governor's livery, -were flying all over the town, carrying letters and sign-manuals. -Directly these were delivered, extraordinary bustle and activity came -at once into being in the official and municipal centres of the city. -The Provosts could be seen, wearing their chain of office and -hurrying to the Town Hall, where they were received by the Chief -Magistrate. Orders and counter-orders flew from one end of the town -to the other, from the Citadel to the Palace and from Cantimpré to -the Château, while, by special command of M. le Marquis de Landas, -the entire garrison, which manned the forts, was under arms during -the whole of that night. - -The humbler folk, scared by this unwonted turmoil, shut themselves up -with their families inside their houses, until a persistent rumour -reassured them that no fresh assault on the part of the besieging -army was expected, but rather that a happy, joyful and hopeful -proclamation would be made by Monseigneur the governor on the morrow, -from the balcony of the Town Hall. Whereupon fear and trouble were -for the moment put resolutely away. The people were beginning to -suffer so acutely, that they were abjectly thankful for any ray of -hope, which gleamed through the darkness of their ever-present -misery. With the Duke of Parma's armies at their gates, they were -still clinging to the thought that some mighty Power would take -compassion on them, and come to their rescue with a force strong -enough to inflict a severe defeat upon the Spaniard. They had not -yet reached the final stages of despair. They were still ready to -seize every opportunity for forgetfulness, for enjoyment even, -whenever it was offered or allowed them. Rumour had been persistent -about the help which was to come from France. Messire de Balagny's -presence in the city had confirmed the hopes which had rested upon -those rumours. Now, with the knowledge that Monseigneur had a joyful -announcement to make, mercurial temperaments rose for -awhile--especially among the young. The older people had been too -often deluded with flowery promises to believe in any good fortune -for their unfortunate city. They had seen the fate of others--of -Mons and of Mechlin and of Gand. The might of the Spanish armies -always conquered in the end, and the rebellious cities had been made -to suffer untold brutalities, as a punishment for their heroic -resistance. - -Fortunately for the morale of Cambray, these older people, these -wiseacres, were still in the minority, and hope is of all human -attributes the strongest and the most persistent. So, despite the -prognostications and fear of pessimists, people rose early on the -following morning, in order betimes to decorate their houses. Soon -after dawn, activities began; flags were dragged out of old, disused -coffers and hung out of windows and balconies; the women sought, in -their worm-eaten dower chests, for any scraps of finery that may have -survived from the happy olden days, before their Spanish tyrants had -made of this prosperous land a forlorn wilderness. - -By eight o'clock the beleaguered city looked almost gay. The shops -were closed; soldiers paraded the streets; the city guilds, their -masters and their 'prentices, came out with banners flying, to stand -in groups upon the Grand' Place. If a stranger could have dropped -into Cambray from the skies on that fine April morning, he would of a -truth have doubted if any Spanish army was encamped around these -walls. - - -II - -Even Gilles de Crohin, absorbed as he was in his own affairs, could -not fail to notice the generally festive air which hung about the -place. In the quarter where he lodged, it is true that very little -of that holiday mood had found its way down the narrow streets and -into the interior of squalid houses, where the pinch of cold and -hunger had already made itself insistently felt. But as soon as he -was past the Place aux Bois, he began to wonder what was in the wind. -The populace had been at obvious pains to put aside for the moment -every outward sign of the misery which it endured. The women had -donned their best clothes, the men no longer hung about at street -corners, looking hungry and gaunt. They did not even scowl in the -wake of the masked stranger, so lately the object of their ire, as -the latter hurried along on his way to the Palace. - -And then there were the flags, and the open windows, the draped -balconies and pots of bright-coloured early tulips--all so different -to the dreary, drab appearance which Cambray had worn of late. - -But, nevertheless, Gilles himself would have told you afterwards that -no suspicion of Monseigneur d'Inchy's intentions crossed his mind. -Vaguely he thought that Messire de Balagny's arrival had been -announced to the townfolk, and that the promise of help from France -had been made the occasion of a public holiday. And he himself was -in too much of a fume to pay serious heed to anything but his own -affairs--to anything, in fact, but his own departure, which had been -so provokingly delayed until this morning. - -And this veracious chronicle has all along put it on record that -Messire Gilles de Crohin was not a man of patience. Imagine his -choler, his fretting rage when, fully prepared for his journey, -mounted upon the same horse which had brought him into Cambray a -month ago, and duly accompanied by Maître Jehan, who had a pack-horse -on the lead, he had presented himself on the previous afternoon at -the Porte Notre Dame with his original safe-conduct, and was -incontinently refused exit from the city, owing to strict orders -issued by the commandant of the garrison that no one should be -allowed to pass out of the gates under any pretext whatsoever. - -Gilles had argued, persuaded, demanded; but he himself was too -thorough a soldier not to have realized from the first that every -argument would be futile. The captain of the guard assured him that -he could do nothing in the face of the strict and uncompromising -orders which he had received. Gilles was of course quite certain -that some one had blundered--a mere matter of formality, which -Monseigneur the governor could put right with a stroke of the -pen--but it was obviously not for a subordinate officer to question -his orders, or to take any revision thereto upon himself; and Gilles, -after receiving the captain's courteous regrets, had no option but to -ride away. - -It was then six o'clock of the afternoon, and the brilliance of the -early spring day was quickly fading into dusk. A boisterous wind had -sprung up, which brought heavy banks of cloud along, threatening -rain. But, rain or shine, Gilles had no thought as yet of giving up -his purpose. There were other gates within the city walls, and -wrapping his mantle closely round his shoulders, he gave spur to his -horse and started on a new quest, closely followed by Maître Jehan. -It is on record that he went the round of every gate, armed with his -safe-conduct and with as much patience as he could muster. -Alternately he tried bribery, persuasion, stealth; but nothing -availed. The town garrison was everywhere under arms; orders had -been given, and no one, be he the highest in the land, was allowed to -leave. - -Had the matter been vital or the adventure worth the trial, I doubt -not but what Messire would have endeavoured to get through at all -costs--have scaled the city walls, swam the river, challenged the -Spanish lines and run the gauntlet of archers and gunners, in order -to accomplish what he wanted, if he had wanted it badly. But a few -hours' delay in his journey could make no matter, and truth to tell -he was in no mood for senseless adventure. - -In the meanwhile, however, several hours had been wasted on fruitless -errands. It was late evening. The heavy gale had brought along its -due complement of rain. It were certainly not seemly to disturb -Monseigneur the governor in the Palace at this hour, so Gilles and -Jehan returned, sorely disappointed, to their lodgings, there to -spend a sleepless night, waiting for the first reasonable hour in the -morning wherein Monseigneur the governor might be expected to -transact business. And I can confidently affirm that no suspicion of -what was in contemplation for the confusion of the fickle Prince, -crossed Gilles' mind, as he lay half the night, staring into the -darkness, with the image of Jacqueline haunting his tortured brain. - - -III - -At eight o'clock the next morning, he was once more at the -Archiepiscopal Palace, demanding to see Monseigneur. Not wishing to -challenge any comparison at this eleventh hour between his two -entities, he had elected to present himself under his disguise and -his mask, and to send in a greeting to Monseigneur with the message -that Messire le Prince de Froidmont desired to speak with him -immediately. - -But it seems that Monseigneur had been very ill all night and had not -yet risen. A leech was in attendance, who, ignorant of the true rank -of this early visitor, strictly forbade that the sick man should be -disturbed. No doubt if Messire le Prince de Froidmont would present -himself a couple of hours later--the leech added suavely--Monseigneur -would be prepared to see him. - -It was in very truth a trial of patience, and I marvel how Gilles' -temper stood the strain. The fact that he was a stranger in the -city, without a friend, surrounded too by a goodly number of enemies, -may be accountable for his exemplary patience. Certain it is that he -did once again return to his lodgings, anathematizing in his heart -all these stodgy and procrastinating Flemings, but otherwise calm -and, I repeat, wholly unsuspecting. - -At ten o'clock, a runner came to him with a message that Monseigneur -had been unexpectedly summoned to the Town Hall, but, not wishing to -disappoint M. le Prince de Froidmont, he begged the latter to go -forthwith to see him there. So Gilles left horses and baggage in -Maître Julien's charge and, accompanied by Jehan, he proceeded on -foot to the Town Hall. He had much difficulty in forcing his way -through the crowd, which had become very dense, especially in and -about the Grand' Place. - -Gilles, indeed, could not help but notice the festive appearance of -the town, the flags, the flowers, the banners of the guilds. Above -all, the good-humour of the crowd was in such strange contrast to -their habitual surliness. Instead of uttering insults against the -masked stranger, as he jostled them with his elbows and a rapid 'By -your leave!' they chaffed and teased him, laughed and joked among -themselves in perfect good-humour. - -In and about the Town Hall there was a large concourse of people, -city fathers and high dignitaries in official attire. The perron -steps were decorated with huge pots of Dutch earthenware, placed at -intervals all the way up as far as the entrance doors and filled with -sheaves of white Madonna lilies, produced at great cost at this -season of the year in the hothouses of the Archiepiscopal Palace. -Pots containing the same priceless flowers could also be seen up on -the huge balcony above the entrance, and showing through the -interstices of the stonework of the splendid balustrade. There was -also a guard of honour--halbardiers in their gorgeous attire--who -lined the hall and the grand staircase as far as the upper floor. - -When Gilles appeared outside the huge entrance gates, an usher in -sober black came forward from some hidden corner of the hall, and -approached him with marked deference. Monseigneur the governor had -given orders that directly M. le Prince de Froidmont presented -himself at the Town Hall he was to be shown up to the Council Room. - -Gilles, having ordered Jehan to wait for him below, followed the -usher up the grand staircase, noting with the first gleam of -suspicious surprise that the guard presented arms as he went by. - -But even then he did not guess. - - -IV - -The Council Room was crowded when Gilles entered. At first he felt -quite dazed. The whole scene was so ununderstandable, so different -to what he had expected. He had thought of finding Monseigneur the -governor alone in a small apartment; and here he was ushered into a -magnificent hall, harmoniously ornamented with priceless Flemish -tapestry above the rich carving of the wainscoting. The hall was -crowded with men, some of whom he had vaguely seen on the night of -the banquet at the Archiepiscopal Palace. There was the Chief -Magistrate, a venerable old man, gorgeously decorated with a massive -gold chain and other insignia of authority; there were the Mayors of -the City guilds, each recognizable by their robes of state and the -emblems of their trades; there were the Provosts and the Captains of -the guard and the Chiefs of the Guild of Archers, with their crimson -sashes, and there was also Monseigneur the governor, looking more -pompous and solemn than he had ever done before. - -Gilles was once more deeply thankful for the mask which covered his -face, together with its expression of boundless astonishment, -amounting to consternation, which must inevitably have betrayed him. -Already he would have retreated if he could; but even as the swift -thought crossed his mind, the ushers closed the doors behind him, the -guard fell in, and he was--there was no mistaking it--a virtual -prisoner. - -Dressed for the journey, booted and spurred, with leather jerkin and -heavy belt, he stood for a moment, isolated, at the end of the room, -a magnificent and picturesque figure, mysterious and defiant--yes, -defiant! For he knew in one instant that he had been trapped and -that he, the gambler, had been set to play a losing game. - -His quick, keen glance swept over the dignified assembly. -Monseigneur, in the centre, was advancing to greet him, bowing almost -to the ground in the excess of his deference. Every head was bared, -the captains of the guard had drawn their swords and held them up to -the salute. Through the wide-open, monumental windows, the pale -April sun came peeping in, throwing a glint of gold upon the rich -robes of the Provosts and the Mayors. A murmur of respectful -greeting went round the room, followed immediately by loud and -prolonged cheering; and Gilles--suddenly alive to the whole -situation--took his plumed hat from off his head and, with a -splendidly insolent gesture, made a sweeping bow to the assembled -dignitaries. His life, his honour, his safety, were hanging by a -thread. He stood like a trapped beast before a number of men who -anon would be clamouring perhaps for his blood; but the whole -situation suddenly struck him as so boundlessly humorous, the -solemnity of all these worthy Flemings would presently be so -completely ruffled, that Gilles forgot the danger he was in, the -precariousness of the position in which he stood, only to remember -its entirely ludicrous aspect. - -'Long live His Highness le Duc d'Anjou et d'Alençon!' came in rousing -cheers, which woke the echoes of the old Town Hall. - -And outside, on the Grand' Place, the people heard the cheering. -They did not know yet what it was about, but they had come out on -this fine April morning to enjoy themselves, to forget their -troubles, their danger, their miseries; and when they heard the -cheering, they responded with full throat and heart, and acclaimed -not what they knew but what they hoped. - -'You have beaten me, Messire,' Gilles said in a good-humoured whisper -to Monseigneur the governor, as the latter bent one knee to the -ground and kissed the gracious hand of the Valois Prince. 'Never was -game so skilfully trapped! All my compliments, Messire. You are a -born----' 'liar' he would have said, but checked himself just in time -and used the smoother word--'diplomatist.' - -'Your Highness will not grudge us our little ruse,' d'Inchy riposted -under his breath with a suave smile. 'It is all for your -glorification and the exaltation of our promised union with France.' - -'Take care, Messire!' retorted Gilles, 'that your want of trust in me -doth not receive the punishment it deserves.' - -He had still the thought that he might run away. The only time in -the whole course of his life that Gilles de Crohin had the desire to -show a clean pair of heels to the enemy! If he could only have seen -the slightest chance of getting away, he would have taken it--through -door or window, up the chimney or the side of a house--any way, in -fact, out of this abominable trap which these astute Flemings had so -skilfully laid for him. And this, despite the fact that he had spied -his arch-enemy, de Landas, at the far end of the room--de Landas, who -was gazing on him, not only in mockery but also in triumph. - -Nevertheless, Gilles was ready to turn his back even on de -Landas--anything, anything, in fact, to get away; for the situation, -besides being ludicrous, was tragic too, and desperate. One false -move on his part, one unconsidered word, and the whole fabric of -Madame la Reyne's schemes would totter to the ground. He seemed to -see her now, with her gracious hand extended towards him and the -tears streaming down her cheeks, while she said with solemn -earnestness: 'When a prince of the house of Valois breaks his word, -the shame of it bears upon us all!' He seemed to see himself with -his hand upon the crosshilt of his sword, swearing by all that he -held most sacred and most dear that he would see this business -through to the end. Indeed, the end was in sight, and he felt like a -soldier who has been left all alone to defend a citadel and ordered -to hold it at all costs. - -That citadel was the honour of France. - -And the soldier-nature in him not only refused to give in, but at -this supreme hour rejoiced in the task. He _would_ hold on at all -costs for the honour of _Monsieur_, his master; but, above all, for -the honour of France. If contumely, disgrace or shame was to fall, -in consequence of this gigantic hoax, then it must fall entirely on -him--Gilles de Crohin, the penniless adventurer--not upon a Prince of -the Royal House of France. Either he would be able to extricate -himself from this desperate position with the mask still upon his -face and _Monsieur's_ secret still inviolate before these assembled -Flemings, or the whole burden of knavery and imposture must fall upon -him alone--the shameless rogue who had impersonated his master for -some unavowable purpose, and perpetrated this impudent fraud for the -sake of some paltry gain. - -It only took him a few seconds thus to pass the whole situation, -present and future, in a brief review before his mind. Having done -it, he felt stronger and keener for the fight and ready for any -eventuality. The honour of France!--and he left here to guard it! -... Ye gods! but he felt prouder than any king! Contumely, disgrace, -exposure, an ignominious flight--mayhap a shameful death. Bah! what -mattered anything so long as the honour of France and of her Royal -House remained untarnished before the world? - -Fortunately Jacqueline was not here! Perhaps she would not come! -Perhaps these wily fools, when they had set their trap, had left her -out of their reckoning. In which case, all might be well; the -chances of exposure remained remote. A little more impudence, a -brief half-hour still of this abominable rôle, and the curtain must -fall at last upon the farcical tragedy and he, Gilles, would be free -to become an honest man once more. - -A little luck!! And, remember that he was a gambler, and staking his -all upon the last throw! - -And as, one by one, the city dignitaries came up to be presented by -the governor to His Highness, and as the minutes sped away, hope once -more knocked at the gateway of the adventurer's heart. One by one -they came, these solemn Flemings. They bent the knee and kissed the -hand of the Prince who was to be their Sovereign Lord. And some of -them were old and others very rheumatic; most of them appeared to -Gilles highly ridiculous in this homage rendered to an impostor. The -desire to laugh aloud became positive torture after awhile, and yet -nothing but self-possession _could_ carry the day, now that every -second rendered Gilles' position more hopeful. - -For still Jacqueline did not come! Jacqueline! the only person -inside this city who could betray him, and she the one being in the -entire world before whom he would have wished to remain deserving and -unimpeached. She of a truth would know him amongst a thousand; her -loving, searching eyes would laugh at masks and disguises! Her -finger alone could, at sight of him, point at him with scorn; her -voice, like that of an avenging angel, could be raised against him, -saying: - -'That man is a liar and a cheat! He is not the Duc d'Anjou!' - - -V - -Monseigneur the governor acted throughout as the Master of -Ceremonies. Obsequious and suave, he seemed to have no wish save to -please His Highness in all things, and to make him forget the want of -trust that the present ceremony implied. He hovered round Gilles, -executing a manoeuvre which the latter was certainly too guileless to -notice. It was a case of: 'On this side, I entreat Your Highness!' -and 'Here is Messire de Haynin, who craves the honour...' or 'If Your -Highness would deign to speak with Messire d'Anthoin.' All very -subtle and unnoticeable, but it meant that every time a city father -came to kiss hands, Gilles, in order to greet him, had to take a step -or two forward, and that each step brought him a trifle nearer to the -open window. That window gave directly on La Bretèque, the vast -terrace-like balcony which overlooked the Grand' Place and which had -so often been the scene of historic proclamations. Suddenly Gilles -found himself there, in the open, with a huge concourse of people -down below at his feet. - -He had Monseigneur the governor on his left, and the company of city -fathers and dignitaries had followed him out on La Bretèque. They -were standing in a compact group around him; and all down the length -of the balcony, at the foot of the balustrade, there were huge pots -filled with those Madonna lilies, which seemed like the very emblem -of Jacqueline. - -Time had gone on; the crowd had cheered at sight of him, and Gilles -had gradually been lulled into a semblance of security. Then -suddenly, from the far end of the balcony, some fifty paces away, -there came the sound of an usher's voice calling in stentorian tones: - -'Make room for Madame Jacqueline de Broyart, Duchesse et Princesse de -Ramèse, d'Espienne et de Wargny! Make room!' - -And down the vista of the long terrace, he caught sight of Jacqueline -advancing towards him between the avenue of lilies. She was dressed -in a white satin gown, and she had pearls round her neck and in her -hair. The April sun fell full upon her, and the soft breeze blew the -tendrils of her hair, like strands of gold, about her face. With a -sinking of the heart, Gilles saw that she walked with a weary and -listless step; but she held herself very erect, with head slightly -thrown back, looking straight out before her as she came. A mask of -black satin hid her face, but even though he could not see those -heavenly blue eyes of hers, Gilles had realized in a moment that his -beloved knew everything. - -An access of wellnigh savage rage sent the hot blood up to his head. -For the space of one second everything around him took on a blood-red -hue, and he turned on d'Inchy with convulsed fingers, prepared to -grip him by the throat. Already the cry 'You miserable scoundrel!' -hovered on his lips.... Then he checked himself. What was the good? -D'Inchy had acted rightly, in accordance with his own lights. He -wished to make sure that the Valois Prince, who had broken so many -promises in his life, should at least on this one occasion be -irrevocably fettered. The assembled dignitaries, the crowd down -below, the whole city of Cambray should witness the solemn plighting -of his troth. And Jacqueline--the unfortunate, innocent pawn in all -these intrigues--should be the one whose weak, small hands would hold -him indissolubly to his bond. - -There was a moment of tense silence. Gilles could hear his own heart -beating in his breast. He had of a truth ceased to feel and to -think. The situation was so hopeless now, so stupendous, that it was -beyond human power to grapple with. He hardly felt that he was -alive; a kind of greyish veil had interposed itself between his eyes -and that group of solemn Flemish worthies around him. And through -that veil he could see their podgy faces, red and round, and grinning -at him with great cavern-like mouths, and eyes that darted fierce -flames upon him. Of a truth, he thought that he was going mad, had a -wild desire to throw back his head and to laugh--laugh loudly and -long; laugh for ever at the discomfiture of some fool who was -standing there in his--Gilles de Crohin's--shoes; at that fool who -had thought to carry through a long farce unchecked, and who -presently would be unmasked by the very woman whom he loved, and -driven forth under opprobrium and ignominy into an outer world, where -he could never look an honest man in the face again. - -Perhaps he would have laughed--for the muscles round his mouth were -itching till they ached--only that, just then, in the very midst of -the crowd below, he caught sight of de Landas' mocking glance--de -Landas, who had been in the Council Room awhile ago, and who -apparently had since mixed with the crowd for the sole purpose of -witnessing his successful rival's discomfiture. This seemed to -stiffen him suddenly, to drag him back from out that whirlpool of -wild sensations wherein he was floundering, and which was bowling him -along, straight to dementia. - -'No, my friend Gilles!' he said to himself. 'Since you are to die -dishonoured, at least die like a man. Not before all these people; -not before that man who hates you, not before that woman who loves -you, shall you flinch in the face of Destiny. You have played many -ignoble parts these days; do not now play that of a coward!' - -And he stood quietly there, still picturesque and magnificent, still -defying Fate which had played him this last, desperate trick, while -Monseigneur advanced to Jacqueline, took her hand and said aloud in -measured tones of ceremony, so that every one there might hear: - -'My dear Jacqueline, it is with inexpressible joy that mine old eyes -behold this happy hour. _Monsieur_ Duc d'Anjou et d'Alençon, Prince -of the House of France, hath asked your hand in marriage. We, your -guardians, do but await your consent to this union which we had -planned for the great good of our beloved country. Say the word, my -dear Jacqueline, and I myself will proclaim to our poor, sorrowing -people the joyful news that a Liberator hath come to them at last, -and that the United Provinces of the Netherlands may look to him as -their Sovereign Lord and King.' - -Jacqueline had listened to Monseigneur's peroration with perfect -composure. She stood then not ten paces away from Gilles--the only -woman in the midst of all these men who were gambling with her -destiny. Through her mask she was looking on Gilles, and on him -only, feeling that the whole abyss of loathing, which filled her soul -for him, would be conveyed to him through her look. - -She had believed in him so completely, trusted him so implicitly, -that now that she knew him to be both a liar and a cheat, she felt -that the very well-spring of her love had turned to bitter hate. And -hate in a strong and sensitive nature is at least as potent as love. -What the mystery was wherewith he chose to surround himself, she did -not know. What the object of the hideous comedy which he had played -could be, she hardly cared. All that she knew was that he had -cheated her and played her false, stolen her love from her to suit -some political intrigue of which he held the threads--helped in any -case in a hideous and clumsy deception which would leave her for ever -shamed. - -But now she knew just what she had to do. She might have unmasked -the deception last night, told Monseigneur the truth and opened his -eyes to the stupid fraud that was perpetrated upon him. What stopped -her from doing that she did not know. Perhaps she still hoped that -something would occur that would give a simple explanation of the -difficult puzzle. Perhaps she thought that when she would be brought -face to face with the man who was impersonating the Duc d'Anjou, that -man would prove to be some low impostor, but not her knight--not the -man who had held her in his arms and sworn that his love for her was -as pure as that of the lark for the sun. And if, indeed, she had -been so hideously deceived, if her idol prove to have not only feet -of clay but heart of stone and soul of darkness, then she would -unmask him, publicly, daringly, before the entire people of Cambray, -humiliate him so utterly that his very name would become a by-word -for all that was ignominious and base, and find some solace for her -misery in the satisfaction of seeing him brought to shame. - -Therefore Jacqueline had said nothing last night to -Monseigneur--nothing this morning. When requested by her guardian to -prepare for this day's ceremony, she had obeyed without a word. Now -she listened to his speech until the end. After which, she said -calmly: - -'Like yourself, Monseigneur, I am covered with confusion at thought -of the great honour which a Prince of the House of France will do to -our poor country. I would wish, with your permission, to express my -deep respect for him ere I place my hand in his.' - -Whereupon Monseigneur stood a little to one side, so that Jacqueline -and Gilles remained directly facing one another. Every one was -watching the young pair, and kindly murmurs of approval at the beauty -of the girl, and the martial bearing of the man, flew from mouth to -mouth. - -Jacqueline, stately and dignified as was her wont, advanced a step or -two. Then she said slowly: - -'And is it of a truth _Monsieur_ Duc d'Anjou et d'Alençon who stands -before me now?' - -She looked straight at him, and he in imagination saw beneath the -mask which hid the expression of her face--saw those blue eyes which -had looked on him yesterday with such ineffable tenderness; saw those -exquisite lips which had murmured words of infinite love. An utter -loathing overcame him of the part which he had to play, of the fraud -which was to deliver his beloved into the keeping of a worthless -reprobate. He was conscious only of a wild desire to throw himself -at her feet in an agony of remorse and repentance, to kiss her gown, -the tips of her velvet shoes; and then to proclaim the truth, to put -it for ever out of that profligate Prince's power to claim this -exquisite woman as his bride--to proclaim the truth, and then to run -away like a second Cain, from the scene of an unforgivable crime; to -flee like the treacherous soldier who hath deserted the citadel; to -flee, leaving behind him the tattered rag of France's honour lying -for ever soiled in the dust, beneath the feet of a duped and -credulous nation. - -Just then she put out her hand--that perfect hand, which he had held -in his and which to his touch had seemed like the petal of a flower, -and she said, with the same solemn deliberation: - -'Is it in truth to the Duc d'Anjou himself that I herewith plight my -troth?' - -The avowal was on Gilles' lips. - -'Madame----' he began, and looked unflinchingly, straightforwardly at -her. - -But before he could speak another word, a cry suddenly rang -out--shrill and terrifying--out of the crowd. - -'Do not touch him, Madame! Do not touch him! He is not the Duc -d'Anjou! He is an impostor and a liar! A Spanish spy! Beware!!' - -Monseigneur, the city fathers, the Mayor--every one on La Bretèque, -in fact--gasped with horror. How dared these abominable agitators -mar the beauty of this affecting ceremony? Monseigneur went forward, -leaned over the balustrade in order to try and ascertain who it was -who was trying to create a disturbance. He saw de Landas down below -in the midst of the throng, vaguely wondered what the young -commandant was doing there, when his place was up on La Bretèque -amongst those of his own rank. Anyway, he spoke to de Landas, -shouted himself hoarse to make the young man hear, for an unpleasant -turmoil had followed that first cry of 'Spanish spy'--people were -shouting and gesticulating and the call 'Down with him!' came -repeatedly from several points in the rear of the crowd. - -De Landas looked up, but he pretended not to hear, laughed and -shrugged his shoulders, as if the matter did not concern him. And -yet there was no mistaking the persistence with which that ominous -cry 'Spanish spy!' was taken up again and again, nor the disturbing -effect which it had upon the crowd. - -Monseigneur then tried to harangue the mob, to point out to them the -evil of their ways. Had they forgotten that they were out to enjoy -themselves, to forget their troubles, to forget the very fact that -the words 'Spaniard' and 'Spanish' existed in their lexicon. But -Messire de Landas' paid agents would not let him speak. They had -been paid to create a disturbance, not to let the people stand about -placidly, listening to windy harangues. - -So, the moment Monseigneur opened his mouth, the whole gang of them -took up the provocative cry: 'A Spanish spy! Take care, Madame -Jacqueline!' until it was repeated over and over again by numberless -voices, hoarse with excitement and with spite. The crowd oscillated -as if driven by a sudden blast; ominous murmurs came from those -points where women and men stood in compact and sullen groups. - -'Spanish spy! Beware!' rang out again and again. - -Monseigneur the governor was in a wild state of agitation. He could -not understand what it was that had set some rowdy malcontents to -disturb the peaceful serenity of this eventful morning. Unable to -make himself heard, he turned in helpless bewilderment to Gilles. - -'Monseigneur,' he began, in a voice quivering with consternation. 'I -do entreat you...' - -But he got no further. Above this peroration, above the shuffling -and the mutterings of his friends on the balcony, above the cries and -murmurs down below, there had suddenly resounded the dull boom of -distant cannon. The crowd gave one terrific, full-throated roar of -terror: - -'The Spaniards! They are on us!' - -And in the seething mass of humanity on the Grand' Place could be -seen just that awful, ominous swaying which precedes a stampede. -Already the women screamed and some men shouted: 'Sauve qui peut!' - -'The Spanish spy!' cried a voice. 'What did I tell you, citizens? -He hath taken advantage of this holiday to bring the Spaniards about -your ears!' - -Now the swaying of the crowd became like a tidal wave upon the bosom -of the ocean. Hundreds of men and women and little children started -to move, not in one direction but in several, like frightened sheep -who know not whither to go. Yells and screams, some of rage others -of terror, rose in a wild tumult from below. And through it all a -few persistent voices--recognizable by the well-known guttural tone -peculiar to those of Spanish blood--shouted themselves hoarse with -the persistent cry: 'The Spaniards are on us! We are betrayed!' - - -VI - -Monseigneur the governor, unable to make himself heard, helpless and -gravely perturbed, hurried into the Council Room, and after him -trooped the city fathers like a flock of scared hens. Confusion at -once reigned inside the Town Hall as much as out on the Place--a -confusion that could be felt rather than heard, a dull murmur of -voices, a scurrying and pattering of feet. - -Once more the cannon roared, and the weird sound was followed by a -prolonged volley of musket shot. - -'They are on us! Sauve qui peut!' - -Then, suddenly, far away in the direction of Cantimpré, a huge column -of smoke rose to the sky. It was immediately followed by a -stupendous report which literally shook the ground beneath the feet -of this terror-stricken mass of humanity. A shower of broken glass -fell at several points with a loud clatter on to the pavements below, -and in absolutely wild and unreasoning terror, the crowd began to -push and to jostle, to drive, and shove, and batter anything or any -one that came in the way. Men and women in their terror had become -like a herd of stampeding beasts, tearing at every obstacle, hurling -maledictions and missiles, fighting, pushing, to get back to their -homes, hammering at doors that had already been hastily barred and -bolted, by those who happened to have found shelter inside the houses -close by. - -'They are on us! Sauve qui peut!' - -This time it was a company of the city guard, who came running -helter-skelter from the direction of the Citadel, halbertmen and -pikemen, most of them unarmed, others with their steel bonnets set -awry upon their heads, not a few leaving a trail of blood behind them -as they ran. - -'Sauve qui peut!' The deathly call of the runaway soldier, the most -awesome sound the ear of man can hear. And over from St. Géry came -others running too, the archers from Notre Dame, and on the right -there were the gunners from Seille. They were running; like hunted -deer, swiftly, panting, their jerkins torn, the slashings of their -doublets hanging on them in strips. - -They added the final horrible note of hopelessness to the terror and -the confusion. From every corner of the city there rose cries of -distress, shrill screams from women and children, loud curses from -the men. The very air was filled with these dismal sounds, whilst -the Unseen which was happening somewhere upon the ramparts of the -city, appeared vastly more terrifying than the Seen. - -And, far away, the cannon still roared and columns of fire and smoke -rose with lurid significance to the sky. - - -VII - -And yet it had all occurred within a very few minutes. Gilles and -Jacqueline were left alone now on La Bretèque, and neither of them -had thought of fleeing. For each of them the awesome moment was just -a pause wherein their minds faced the only important problem--how to -help and what to do, singly, against that terrible tide. - -It was just a moment--the space, perhaps, of a dozen heart-beats. -All around them the turbulent passions of men--fear, enmity, -greed--were raging in all their unbridled frenzy. The cannons -roared, the walls of the ancient city tottered; but they stood in a -world apart, he--the man who unknowingly had played so ignominious a -part--and she, the woman whom he had so heinously wronged. He tried -to read her innermost thoughts behind that forbidding mask, and a mad -appeal to her for forgiveness rose, even at this supreme instant, to -his lips. - -But the appeal was never made. The man's feelings, his grief, his -shame were all swept aside by the stirring of the soldier's soul. It -was the moment when first the cannon roared and the runaway guard -came running through the streets, Gilles saw them long before they -had reached the Grand' Place. He realized what it all meant, saw the -unutterable confusion and panic which would inevitably render the -city an easy prey to the invader. He gave a cry of horror and dismay. - -'My God! but 'tis black treachery that has been at work this day!' he -exclaimed involuntarily. - -She had not yet seen the runaway guard, did not perhaps for the -moment realize the utter imminence of the peril. Her mind was still -busy with the difficult problem--how to help, what to do. But his -involuntary cry suddenly roused her ire and her bitter -disillusionment. - -'You should know Messire,' she retorted. 'You are well versed in the -art.' - -'God forgive me, I am!' he ejaculated ruefully. 'But this!' he added -with a smothered oath, and pointed down to the panic-stricken -soldiers. 'This! ... Oh, my God! Your safety, your precious life at -stake! You'll not believe, Jacqueline,' he pleaded, 'that I had a -hand in selling your city to your enemies?' - -'In selling the city!' The words appeared to have whipped up her -spirit as with a lash. She looked at him, wrathfully, boldly, with a -still unspoken challenge lurking in her eyes. 'You do not believe -that----' - -'That traitors have engineered her perdition?' he broke in rapidly. -'I do!' - -'But----' - -'The disturbance in the crowd ... the panic ... the deserters ... -those abominable agitators! In a few hours the Spaniards will be -inside the city--and Cambray lost!' - -'Cambray lost! Impossible!' - -'With no discipline, no leaders.... She cannot resist----' - -'Then you must lead her,' she said firmly. - -'I?' - -'Yes! You!' - -She had taken the mask from off her face and confronted him now with -a glowing challenge in her eyes. - -'You!' she reiterated, speaking very rapidly. 'Whoever you are, save -Cambray ... defend her ... save her! I know that you can.' - -In the look which she gave him he read something which filled his -very soul with rapture. He gave her back glance for glance, worship -for this trust. - -'I can at any rate die for her,' he said quietly. 'If you, ma donna, -will forgive.' - -'Save Cambray,' she reiterated with superb confidence, 'and I'll -forgive everything!' - -'Then may God have you in His keeping,' he called to her. And, -before she could realize what was in his purpose, he had climbed to -the top of the tall balustrade, stood for one moment there high above -her, silhouetted against the clear blue of the sky, like a living -statue of youth and enthusiasm and springtide, animated by that faith -which moveth mountains and sets out to conquer the world in order to -lay it at the loved one's feet. - -'Jehan!' he called. 'À moi!' - -Then, swinging himself with the easy grace of perfect strength, he -jumped down on to the perron below. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIII - -WHILE TRAITORS ARE AT WORK - - -I - -And now, I pray you think of Jacqueline running to the balustrade -and, with glowing eyes looking over the stonework upon the perron -beneath her. Jehan has caught his master as the latter touches the -ground, and for the space of two or three seconds the two men stand -at the top of the steps, locked in each other's arms, steadying one -another. During those few seconds Messire whispers hurriedly in his -faithful henchman's ears: - -'De Balagny's troops from La Fère ... at all costs.... Understand?' - -Jehan nods. - -'Tell them to attack from the Bapaume Road, with as much clatter and -shouting as may be. We'll hold on till they come. Go!' - -He waits another few seconds until he sees Jehan's burly form -disappear through the throng, then with a loud call, 'À moi! all you -citizens of Cambray who are not cowards and traitors!' he draws his -sword and faces the crowd. - -He has a clear and resonant voice, which rises above the tumult. The -panic-stricken throng of men and women pause mechanically in their -unconsidered flight, to look on that strange apparition on the perron -steps--strange, in truth; for towering up there, he looks -preternaturally tall, and the black mask on his face gives him an air -of mystery. - -'Citizens of Cambray,' he continues lustily. 'The Spaniard is at -your gate! Are you going to let the traitors have their day?' - -The crowd sways towards him. Frightened as every one is, there is a -momentary lull in the wild stampede, while scared, wide-eyed, pallid -faces are turned towards the stranger. The runaway soldiers, too, -pause, in their headlong rush. A company of pikemen stand in a -compact group on the edge of the crowd, some fifty paces away from -Gilles. Their captain, bonnetless, with tattered jerkin and face -streaming with sweat, is in their midst. Messire sees him, and -shouts to him with all his might. - -'Captain of the guard, Cambray is in peril! What are you doing here?' - -The man evidently wavers; he looks shamed and overcome, tries to hide -himself behind his subordinates. But some one close at his -elbow--Jacqueline cannot see who it is--appears to egg him on, and -after an instant's hesitation he says sullenly: - -'The Spaniards are on us, and----' - -'Then why are you not on the Spaniards?' retorts Gilles. - -'They have made a breach at Cantimpré.' - -'Then where are your counter-mines?' - -'Under the bastion.' - -'Did you fire them?' - -'No. The whole fort is crumbling already. It would tumble about our -ears.' - -'Then why are you not at the breach to make a rampart of your body?' - -Again the man wavers. He is a soldier and a tried one, appears -bewildered at his own act of treachery. It seemed at the time as if -some one--some devil--had put cowardice into his heart at the very -moment when courage and presence of mind were most urgently needed. -The men, too, had faltered, broken most unexpectedly at the first -assault, throwing down their arms. Even the gunners.... But it -wouldn't bear thinking of. In truth, some devil had been at work, is -at work now; for when the men and the captain, already stirred by -Gilles' enthusiasm, looking ashamed and crestfallen, are on the point -of cheering, a peremptory voice, laden with spite, rises from -somewhere in the rear. - -'Captain of the guard! I forbid you to listen to this man! He is a -cheat and an impostor!' - -It is de Landas, who, hidden at the back of the crowd, has seen -Gilles jump down from the balcony, and scenting danger to his -infamous scheme, has been at pains to force his way to the forefront -of the mob. It has taken him some time and vigorous play of the -elbows, for the crowd has become interested in the masked -stranger--in the man whom they had nearly murdered twenty-four hours -ago, but whose appearance and words to-day are distinctly inspiriting -and reassuring. - -De Landas has one of his favourite familiars with him--the Fleming, -Maarege--and together the two men stand now, commanding and arrogant, -in front of the soldiers and their captain. And they, recognizing -the chief commandant of the garrison, are once more panic-stricken -and dumb. Vague ideas of discipline and punishment, to which the -young Spaniard had accustomed them, check their enthusiasm for the -stranger. - -Now de Landas has taken a step or two nearer to the captain of the -guard. His eyes are aflame with fury, and his whole attitude is one -of authority and of menace. - -'If you dare parley with this man,' he says savagely, 'you will -answer for it with your life. The Spanish armies are at your gates; -in a few hours they will be in this city. Your only hope of pardon -for yourself, for your wife, your children and your kindred, lies in -complete and immediate surrender to the will of His Majesty the King -of Spain, my master and yours!' - -'To hell with the King of Spain, your master!' Gilles' stentorian -voice breaks in from above. 'Soldiers of Cambray!' he continues -lustily, 'You have nothing to fear from the King of Spain, or from -any of his minions! 'Tis you who will punish them for all their past -insolence! You who will dictate to them the terms of victory!' - -'You miserable varlet!' exclaims de Landas, and turns on Gilles with -unbridled savagery. 'How dare you raise your voice when the King of -Spain speaks through my lips? How dare you speak to all these -besotted fools of victory, when in submission lies their only chance -of safety? Fools!' he goes on, and turns once more to the crowd. -'Self-deluded dupes! Do you not feel the might of Spain closing in -upon you? Surrender, I say! Submit! You are wretched and starved -and weak. You cannot defend yourselves, and no one will come to your -aid.' - -'Then do I proclaim you a liar, M. de Landas!' is Gilles' firm -retort. 'The armies of France are on their way for the relief of -Cambray, even at this hour.' - -'It is false!' - -'True as I live. True as that you are a miserable traitor! True as -there is a Heaven above us and as there are angels who visit this -earth. Citizens of Cambray, I swear to you that the army of the King -of France will be outside your city before the April sun that smiles -upon your valour has sunk down to rest. So give a cheer for France, -citizens of Cambray! France, your deliverer and friend!' - -His sally is greeted with a gigantic outburst of cheering. - -'France! France!' - -The crowd has listened spellbound while the masked stranger bandied -words with that bastard Spaniard, whom they had all learned to loathe -long ago. His cheery voice, his confident bearing, his exultation, -have already warmed their hearts. Something of their terror has -vanished; they are no longer like a herd of awestruck beasts, driven -aimlessly along by senseless terror. There is nothing in the world -so infectious as fear, except courage and enthusiasm: and Gilles' -martial figure, the proud carriage of his head, his vibrant voice and -flashing sword, are there to infuse valour even in the most abject. - -The captain of the guard and his men had winced before de Landas' -threats. Old habits of discipline could not all in a moment be -shaken off. But now they feel that the crowd is at one with them in -their enthusiasm for the stranger, and also that they will be given a -chance of retrieving their shameful act of cowardice of awhile ago. -So, when the crowd cheers, the soldiers, despite de Landas' black -looks and his brutal menaces, following their captain's lead, cheer -too. They cheer until the very walls of the ancient city reverberate -with the sound. - -'France! France!' - -Then suddenly Gilles, at the top of the perron steps, quick as -lightning, runs to the nearest earthenware pot which is filled with -the Madonna lilies. He plucks out a sheaf of the flowers, and with a -loud cry: 'Soldiers of Cambray, rally to the standard of France! To -the unconquered Flower o' the Lily!' he throws the flowers one by one -to the soldiers and their captain. The men seize them as they fly -through the air and fasten them to their bonnets or their belts. The -crowd acclaims the spirited deed: - -'Long live the flower o' the lily!' they shout. - -Now Gilles is running from pot to pot. He snatches sheaf after sheaf -of lilies and throws them to the crowd. The flowers are caught up -with ever growing ardour, whilst every corner of the Place rings with -the triumphant call: 'France! France!' - -Far away the cannon is roaring, the air is rent with the sharp report -of muskets and the crumbling of masonry. The translucent April sky -hath taken on a lurid hue. Around the city walls the brutal enemy is -already swarming; he is battering at the gates, has climbed the -fortifications, run triumphantly to the assault. Awhile ago the -crowd had cowered at the sound, fled terrified at his approach. Now -every heart is thrilled with fervour, every soul responds to the -appeal of an enthusiast, and is glowing with the hope of victory. - -And de Landas, blind with fury, sees the fruits of his abominable -treachery crumbling to dust before his eyes. He glowers on every one -around him like a stricken bull, with rage and frenzy enkindled in -his eyes. And suddenly, before any one there can guess his purpose, -he has laid savage hands on the Captain of the guard, and drawing a -pistol from his belt he points it at the unfortunate man's breast. - -'If one of you dares to utter another sound, or to stir from this -spot,' he shrieks out in a shrill and husky voice, 'I'll shoot this -dog where he stands.' - -At once the cheers immediately near him are stilled, a groan of -horror and of execration rises from an hundred throats, and for the -space of a few seconds the soldiers stand quite still, holding their -breath; for in truth it is murder which gleams out of the young -Spaniard's eyes. - -'Down on your knees, you miscreant!' shouts de Landas fiercely. -'Maarege, à moi! Help me to make a clean sweep of this herd of -rebels. Down on your knees, every one of you! You Flemish swine!' - -'Down on your knees, M. le Marquis!' Gilles' sonorous voice rings out -like a bronze bell beneath the clapper. With that rapidity which -characterizes his every action, he runs down the perron steps, -catches de Landas' right arm from behind and gives it such a brutal -wrench that the pistol falls from the miscreant's hand and the -Spaniard himself, sick with the pain, comes down on one knee. - -'Out of the way, you hell-hound!' Gilles goes on mercilessly. 'There -is no room for traitors in Cambray.' - -He kicks the pistol on one side and throws de Landas, semi-inert, -from him, as if he were a bale of noisome goods. Then he turns and, -with an instantaneous gesture, has gripped de Landas' familiar by the -throat. - -'I'll kill every one of your gang with mine own hands,' he says in a -fierce and rapid whisper, 'unless you all slink away at once like the -curs that you are!' - -The words are hardly out of his mouth, and Maarege, faint and sick, -is bending under that powerful grip, when from somewhere overhead -there comes a sudden, heart-rending cry of warning. - -'Take care!' - -But the warning has come just a second too late. De Landas, -recovering from semi-consciousness, has succeeded in crawling on -hands and knees and retaking possession of his pistol. He points it -straight at his hated rival. There is a sharp report, followed by -screams from the women. For a second or two Gilles remains standing -just where he was, with his sinewy fingers round Maarege's throat. -Then his grip relaxes; Maarege totters back, panting and half dead, -whilst Gilles instinctively puts his hand to his shoulder. His -jerkin is already deeply stained with blood. - -De Landas gives an almost demoniacal shout of glee, which, however, -is but short-lived. The soldiers, who had been cowed by his -brutality a moment ago, are roused to a passion of fury now at the -dastardly assault on one who has already become their idol. They -fall on the recreant, regardless of his rank and power. They drag -him up from the ground, wrench the pistol out of his hand and hold -him there, a panting, struggling, impotent beast, breathing hatred -and malediction. - -'Give the word, Monseigneur,' the Captain says coolly, 'and we'll -kill the vermin.' He holds the pistol to de Landas' breast, whilst -his eyes are fixed on Gilles, waiting for the order to fire. - -'Let the serpent be, captain,' Gilles replies quietly. - -'But you are hurt, Monseigneur,' the captain urges. - -'Nothing but a scratch--'tis healed already.' - -Far away the cannon thunders once more. Once more a terrific -explosion rends the air. Gilles, still upright, still cheery, still -brimful of enthusiasm, holds his sword up high over his head, so that -the April sun draws sparks of fire from its shining blade. - -'To the breach, friends!' he cries. 'If breach there be! À moi, -soldiers of Cambray! Form into line and to the ramparts! I'll be -there before you! And you, proud citizens of a valiant city, à moi! -Pick up your staves and your sticks, your chisels and your rakes! À -moi! All of you, with your fists and your knees and your hearts and -your minds! Remember Mons, and Mechlin and Gand! Remember your -hearths! your wives! your daughters! and let the body of each one of -you here be a living rampart against the foe for the defence of your -homes. À moi!' - -The captain gives the order, the men fall in, in straight, orderly -line. On their bonnets or in their belts the white lily gleams like -shining metal beneath the kiss of the April sun. From the Town Hall -the bodyguard comes trooping down the perron steps. They are joined -by the halberdiers who had lined the Grand' Place, by the archers -from St. Géry and the musketeers from the citadel. The banners of -the city guilds flutter in the breeze; fair hands and white kerchiefs -are waved from windows and balconies above, and a terrific cheer for -France rends the air with its triumphant echo, as the crowd begins to -move slowly in the wake of the soldiers. - -'Long live France!' - -'Long live the Defender of Cambray!' - - -II - -For a moment Gilles stands quite still, almost isolated where he is, -a little dizzy with excitement and with loss of blood. An -uncomfortable veil is fast gathering in front of his eyes. 'I shall -have to see to this stupid scratch,' he murmurs to himself. - -It had all occurred so quickly--within a brief quarter of an hour. -And yet the destinies of nations had been recast during that time. -Now the city fathers, the provosts, Monseigneur himself, are crowding -round the one man who they feel might still save them from dishonour. - -'Your Highness, we look to you,' Monseigneur is saying. - -'Tell us what you wish done,' adds the Chief Magistrate. - -'The Provosts await your Highness' orders,' rejoins a pompous -dignitary, whilst yet another continues in the same strain: 'We are -body and soul at your Highness' commands.' - -Their voices come to Gilles as if from somewhere far away. They are -drowned by the tumult of the beleaguered city preparing for a last -stand. But the instinct of the soldier keeps him steadfast on his -feet. He makes a violent effort to keep his head clear and his voice -firm. He gives orders to the Chief Magistrate, the Provosts, the -Mayors of the Guilds. The forts must be visited at once, the men -encouraged, the officers admonished. Every hour, every minute almost -is now of priceless value. The troop brought over by Messire de -Balagany, encamped at La Fère cannot be here before sundown. Until -then the men must stand. Oh! they must stand, Messires! Despite -crumbling walls and hecatombs of dead! Let the men know that the -existence of their country is hanging to-day by a thread! - -The Guild of Armourers must open up its stores: pikes, lances, -halberts, muskets, must be distributed to a contingent of citizens, -who, though untrained, will help to strengthen the living wall. The -Guild of Apothecaries must be ready with ambulances and dressings, -and stretcher-bearers must work wonders so that the fighters are not -encumbered by the dead. - -The Chief Engineer of the city must see to barricading the streets -with double rows of hurdles, or boxes, or furniture, or lumber of any -sorts, with sacks filled with earth, empty carts, wagons, clothing, -anything and everything that may be handy. The reservoirs of the -city must be patrolled, and if it be deemed necessary, they must be -opened and the water allowed to flood the low-lying streets by the -river, if the enemy succeed in obtaining a foothold there. -Countermines must be laid; every one must to his task, and he who -does not fight must think and work and endure. - -Every one obeys. One by one, the dignitaries file away to execute -the orders which have been given them. They all accept the -leadership of this man, whom they still believe to be the Duc -d'Anjou, their future Sovereign Lord. - -'Ah, Monseigneur!' exclaims d'Inchy warmly. 'I thank God on my knees -that you are with us to-day, and that it is you who will defend our -city--the most precious pearl in your future inheritance.' - -'Your Highness must save yourself as much as possible,' comes in -cordial echo from M. de Lalain. 'We could ill spare you now.' - -'What would we do if Monseigneur fell?' adds another. - -And then an angelic voice breaks in suddenly, saying with sweet -compassion: - -'Fie, Monsieur my guardian, to weary Monseigneur so! Cannot you see -that he is fainting?' - -But Gilles hardly hears. Tired nature is asserting her rights over -him at last. He sinks wearied upon the nearest step. It seems to -him as if soft arms are thrown around him, whilst others--more -powerful and insistent--busy themselves dexterously with his jerkin. - -It is all very vague and infinitely sweet. Soft linen is laid upon -his wounded shoulder, something pungent and sweet-smelling is held to -his nostrils, whilst from very far away, in the regions of dreams and -of paradise, a soft voice murmurs with angelic solicitude: - -'Think you it will heal?' - -'Very quickly, gracious lady,' a gruff voice replies. ''Tis only a -flesh wound. Excitement hath brought on a brief swoon. It is -nothing.' - -After which Gilles remembers nothing more. - - - - -CHAPTER XXIV - -THE DEFENCE OF CAMBRAY - - -I - -Of that terrible day in Cambray, that fourth of April, 1581, nothing -has survived but a memory--a glowing memory of fervour and -enthusiasm, of reckless disregard of danger and magnificent deeds of -valour; a heartrending memory of sorrow and misery and death. - -Five times in as many hours did the armies of the Duke of Parma rush -to the assault of the city. Five times did a living rampart of -intrepid bodies interpose itself between the mighty hordes and the -crumbling walls of Cambray--those intrepid bodies more steadfast than -the walls. At one hour after noon the redoubt of Cantimpré is a -black mass of charred débris, the Château de Seille is in flames. On -the right bank of the Scheldt the walls have a breach through which -twenty men can pass, the moats and the river are filled with dead. - -But the living rampart still stands. The walls of Cambray are -crumbling, but her citizens are steadfast. Halbertmen and pikemen, -archers and gunners, they all have a moment's weakness to retrieve, -and do it with deeds of indomitable valour. And as they fall, and -their numbers become thinned, as that breathing, palpitating wall -sustains shock after shock of the most powerful engines of warfare -the world has ever known, its gaps are made good by other breasts and -other hearts, and with all the spirit which will not rest until it -has conquered. - -Outside and in, at this hour, all is confusion. A medley of sights -and sounds which the senses cannot wholly grasp, dull roar of cannon, -sharp retort of musketry, clash of pike and lance and halbert, the -terrified shrieks of women and the groans of the wounded and the -dying. Round about the walls, in the narrow streets and up on the -battlements, a litter of broken steel and staves, of scrap-iron and -fragments of masonry and glass, torn jerkins cast aside; for the -April sun is hot and the smell of powder goes to the head like wine. - - -II - -And from the tall steeples of Cambray's many churches the tocsin -sends its ominous call above the din. - -Cambray is fighting for her liberty, for her existence. Her sons and -daughters are giving their lives for her. And not only for her, but -for the Netherlands--the brave and stricken country which has fought -against such terrible odds while the very centuries have rolled by. - -A last stand, this; for no mercy is to be expected from the Spaniard -if he enters the city in his numbers. Cambray hath withstood the -might of Philip II, hath rebelled against his authority, hath dared -to think that men are free to think, to work and to worship, that -children are not slaves or women chattels. Cambray hath unfurled the -flag of liberty. If she fall, she becomes a prey to rapine and -brutality, to incendiaries and libertines. - -So Cambray to-day must conquer or die. - -Traitors have plotted against her, laid her open, unsuspecting, to a -surprise attack by an army which is past-master in the art. Caught -unawares in a holiday mood, she has flinched. Worked upon by -treachery, her sons have wavered at first, panic seized hold of -them--they all but fell, shamed and destined to never-ending disgrace -and remorse. - -But the cowardice had been momentary, fostered by past months of -privations and misery, fomented by the insidious voice of traitors. -One man's voice hath rallied the sinking spirits, one man's valour -revived the dormant courage. All they wanted was a leader--a man to -tell them to hope, a man to cheer and comfort them, to kindle in -their hearts the dying flame of indomitable will. So, in the wake of -that man they have followed in their hundreds and their thousands; -the soldiers have regained discipline; the men, courage; the women, -resignation. The masked stranger whom they had been taught to hate, -they have already learned to worship. - -Heroic, splendid, indomitable, he is the bulwark which strengthens -every faltering heart, the prop which supports every wavering spirit. -From end to end of the ramparts his sonorous voice vibrates and -echoes, commanding, helping, cheering. If courage fails, he is there -to stiffen; if an arm tires, his is there to take its place. Sword -or lance, or pike or halbert, culverine or musket or bow; every -weapon is familiar to his hand. At the breach with a pistol, on the -ramparts with falconet, on the bastion with the heavy cannon; he is -here, there and everywhere where danger is most threatening, where -Spanish arrows darken the sky like a storm-cloud that is wind-driven, -and deal death when they find their goal. His jerkin is torn, the -sleeve of his doublet hangs tattered from his shoulder, his arm is -bare, his face black with powder and grime. Around him the Provosts -and Sheriffs and Captains of the Guard vainly beg him not to expose -himself to unnecessary peril. - -'The soldiers look to your Highness alone,' they cry in desperation. -'If you fall, what should we do?' - -They still believe him to be the Duc d'Anjou, brother of the King of -France, and marvel that so degenerate a race could breed such a -magnificent soldier. He has said nothing to disillusion them. The -mire of battle masks him better than a scrap of satin or velvet, and -whilst fighting to save Cambray, he is also redeeming the honour of -France. - -'If you fall, what should we do?' implores d'Inchy on one occasion, -during a lull in the attack. - -Gilles laughs, loudly and long. 'Do?' he exclaims gaily. 'Hold -Cambray to the last man and turn the Spaniard from her walls!' - -Unflinching and resolute, a pack of Flemish bourgeois hold their -ground against the might and main of the Duke of Parma's magnificent -army--clerks, some of them, others shopkeepers or labourers, against -the most powerful military organization of the epoch! But it is not -only Cambray that is threatened now; it is the freedom of their -province and the honour of their women. And so they make a wall of -their bodies whilst the flower of the Duke of Parma's hordes is -hurled time after time against them. - -Musketeers and crossbowmen, lancers and halberdiers--up they come to -the charge like an irresistible tidal wave against a mighty cliff. -Like a torrent they rush over the moat and on to the breach, or the -bastions, or the ramparts; attacking from every side, using every -engine of warfare which the mightiest kingdom of the age has devised -for the subjugation of rebellious cities. The sound of metal-headed -arrows against the masonry is like a shower of hailstones upon glass; -the battlements gleam with flashing steel, with sparks from -brandished swords and flame-spitting falconets. - -Of a truth, the mind cannot grasp it all, eyes cannot see nor ears -perceive all the horrors, the misery and the devotion. Men fighting -and women working to soothe, to comfort or to heal. Burghers' wives, -humble maids, great ladies, are all fighting with the men, fighting -with their hearts and their skilled hands, with clean bandages and -soothing potions, with words of comfort for the dying and prayers for -the dead. - -In the streets behind the ramparts, rough ambulances have been set -up, mattresses dragged under sheds or outhouses, fresh straw laid, on -which the wounded might find momentary solace. The women, too, are -doing their part. Jacqueline de Broyart, one of the many, the most -untiring where all give of their best, the most selfless where all -are ready for sacrifice. From time to time during the lull between -terrific assaults, she sees Gilles hurrying past--her knight, the -defender of her beloved city. She bade him go and save Cambray and -sees him now, begrimed, in rags, unheedful even of her, but cheerful -and undaunted, certain of victory. - -'You will be proud, my dear,' says d'Inchy to her, during one of -those nerve-racking lulls, 'to place your hand in that so valiant a -soldier, to plight your troth to Monsieur Duc d'Anjou.' - -'I shall be proud,' she retorts simply, 'if, indeed, I might plight -my troth to the defender of Cambray.' - -'The defender of Cambray, my dear,' rejoins d'Inchy lustily. 'The -saviour of Cambray, you mean! 'Tis on our knees we shall have to -thank him and offer him all that we have of the best!' - -A strange, elusive smile flits for a moment round Jacqueline's mouth, -and a look of infinite longing softens the light of her blue eyes. - -'If only it could be!' she sighs, and returns to her task. - - -III - -Later in the afternoon, the picture becomes more clear. We see the -crumbling walls, the girdle around Cambray falling away bit by bit; -we see the breach at Cantimpré wider by many feet now and a handful -of men making a last stand there, with muskets, crossbows, -sticks--anything that is ready to hand. We see the bastions a mass -of smouldering ruins and the ramparts around on the point of giving -way. - -And all about the city a mighty hecatomb--Spaniards and Flemings, -soldiers, burghers or churls, lie scattered on the low-lying ground, -in the moat, the ramparts or the streets. Might and glory have -claimed their victims as well as valour and worship of liberty. - -Cambray's walls are falling. The breach becomes wider and wider -every hour, like a huge gaping wound through which the life-blood of -the stricken city is oozing out drop by drop. - -But, guarding that breach, not yet yielding one foot of the city -which shelters his Jacqueline, Gilles de Crohin, with that handful of -men, still holds the ground. His anxious eyes scan the low horizon -far away where the April sun is slowly sinking to rest. That way -lies La Fère and de Balagny's few picked men, whom Jehan has gone to -fetch, and who could even in this desperate hour turn Spanish -discomfiture into a rout. - -'My God! why does Jehan tarry?' he calls out with smouldering -impatience. - -Up on the battlements the guard stand firm; but the Spaniards have -succeeded in throwing several bridges of pikes across the moat and -one mine after another is laid against the walls. Captains and -officers run to Gilles for instructions or orders. - -'There are no orders,' he says, 'save to hold out until France comes -to your aid.' - -And out in the open country, outside those city walls which hold -together so much heroism and such indomitable courage, the Duke of -Parma, angered, fierce, terrible, has rallied the cream of his armies -around him. The sixth assault has just been repulsed, the breach -cleared by a terrific fusillade from that handful of men, whilst a -murderous shower from above, of granite and scrap-iron and heavy -stones, has scattered the attacking party. A fragment of stone has -hit the Duke on the forehead; blood is streaming down his face. He -sets spurs to his horse and gallops to where a company of archers is -scrambling helter-skelter out of the moat. - -'Cowards!' he cries savagely. 'Will you flee before such rabble?' - -He strikes at the soldiers with his sword, sets spurs to his horse -until the poor beast snorts with pain, rears and paws the air with -its hoofs, only to bring them down the next moment, trampling and -kicking half a dozen soldiers to death in its mad and terrified -struggle. - -'You know the guard has fled,' Alexander Farnese cries to his -officers. ''Tis only an undisciplined mob who is in there now.' - -His nephew, Don Miguel de Salvado, a brave and experienced captain, -shrugs his shoulders and retorts: - -'A mob led by a man who has the whole art of warfare at his -finger-tips. Look at him now!' - -All eyes are turned in the direction to which Don Miguel is pointing. -There, in the midst of smouldering ruins of charred débris and -crumbling masonry, stands the defender of Cambray; behind him the -graceful steeples of St. Géry and of St. Waast, the towers of Notre -Dame and of the Town Hall, are lit up by the honey-coloured rays of -the sinking sun. Superb in his tattered clothes, with chest and arms -bare, and ragged hose, he stands immovable, scanning the western sky. - -De Landas laughs aloud. - -'He is still on the look-out for that promised help from France,' he -says, with a shrug of his shoulder. - -The traitor has made good his escape out of the city which he has -betrayed. What assistance he could render to the Duke in the way of -information, he has done. The measure of his infamy is full to the -brim, and yet his hatred for the enemy who has shamed him is in no -way assuaged. - -He, too, looks up and sees Gilles de Crohin, the man whose invincible -courage has caused the Spanish armies so many valuable lives this day -and such unforgettable humiliation. - -'A hundred doubloons,' he cries aloud, 'to the first man who lays -that scoundrel low!' - -The word is passed from mouth to mouth. The archers and musketeers -set up a cheer. Parma adds, with an oath: 'And a captain's rank to -boot!' - -An hundred doubloons and a captain's rank! 'Tis a fortune for any -man. It means retirement, a cottage in sunny Spain, a home, a wife. -The men take heart and look to their arrows and their muskets! Every -archer feels that he has that fortune in his quiver now and every -musketeer has it in his powder horn. And with a loud cry of 'Long -live King Philip of Spain!' the infantry once more rush for the -breach. - - -IV - -Don Miguel de Salvado leads the attack this time. The breach now -looks like a gate which leads straight into the heart of the city, -where pillage and looting are to be the reward of the conquerors; and -the booty will be rich with the precious belongings of a pack of -overfed bourgeois. - -That open gate for the moment seems undefended. It is encumbered -with fallen masonry, and beyond this appear piles of rubbish, -overturned wagons, furniture, débris of all sorts, evidently -abandoned by the wretched inhabitants when they fled from their -homes. Of Gilles de Crohin and his burghers there is for the moment -no sign. - -Don Miguel has with him half a company of musketeers, the finest -known in Europe, and a company of lancers who have been known to -clear an entire city of rebels by their irresistible onrush. - -'No falling back, remember!' he commands. 'The first who gives -ground is a dead man!' - -Up the lancers run on the slippery ground, clinging to the wet earth -with naked feet, to the coarse grass and loose stones with their -knees. The musketeers remain on the hither side of the moat, three -deep in a long battle array; the front lying flat upon the ground, -the second kneeling, the third standing, with their muskets levelled -against the first enemy who dares to show his face. The pikemen have -reached the breach. There is silence on the other side. The officer -laughs lustily. - -'I told you 'twas but a rabble playing with firearms!' - -The words are hardly out of his mouth when a terrific volley of -musketry shakes the fast crumbling wall to its foundation. It comes -from somewhere behind all those débris--and not only from there, but -from some other unknown point, with death-like precision and cold -deliberation. The Spanish officer is hit in the face; twelve pikemen -throw up their arms and come rolling down on the wet ground. - -'What is this hell let loose?' cries the officer savagely, ere he -too, blinded with the flow of blood down his face, beats a hasty -retreat. - -Quick! a messenger to His Highness the Duke of Parma! The breach is -so wide now that twenty men could walk easily through it. The enemy -is not in sight--and yet, from somewhere unseen, death-dealing -musketry frustrates every assault. - -'Return to the charge!' is the Duke of Parma's curt command, and -sends one of his ablest officers to lead a fresh charge. He himself -organizes a diversion, crosses the small rivulet, which flows into -the Schelde at the foot of Cantimpré, and trains his artillery upon a -vulnerable piece of wall, between the bastion and the river bank. He -has the finest culverines known in Europe at this time, made on a new -pattern lately invented in England; his cannon balls are the most -powerful ever used in warfare, and some of his musketeers know how to -discharge ten shots in a quarter of an hour--an accomplishment never -excelled even by the French. - -So, while one of his ablest officers is in charge of the attacking -party on the breach, His Highness himself directs a new set of -operations. Once more the roar of artillery and of musketry rend the -air with their portentous sound. The Duke of Parma's picked men -attack the last bastion of Cantimpré, whilst from the roads of Arras, -of Sailly and Bapaume, the whole of the Spanish infantry rush like a -mighty wave to the charge. - -Pikemen and halberdiers, archers and lancers, once more to the -assault! Are ye indeed cowards, that a pack of Flemish rabble can -hold you at bay till you sink back exhausted and beaten? Up, -Bracamonte and Ribeiras! Messar, with your musketeers! Salvado, -with your bow-men! Up, ye mighty Spanish armies, who have seen the -world at your feet! With Farnese himself to lead you, the hero of an -hundred sieges, the queller of an hundred rebellions; are ye dolts -and fools that you cannot crush a handful of undisciplined rabble? - -And in close masses, shoulder to shoulder, they come!--exhausted, but -still obstinate, and with the hope of all the rich booty to lure them -on. Down the declivity of the moat--no longer deep, now that it is -filled with dead! And up again to below the walls! The setting sun -is behind them and gleams on their breastplates and their bonnets, -and gilds the edges of the battlements with lines of flame. - -And, up on the crumbling battlements, the defenders of Cambray--the -clerks and shopkeepers and churls--hear the tramp of many feet, feel -the earth quivering beneath this thunder of a last mighty assault. -Sturdy, undaunted hands grip lance and pike tighter still, and -intrepid hearts wait for this final charge, as they have waited for -others to-day, and will go on waiting till the last of them has -stilled its beating. - -And Gilles de Crohin in their midst, invincible and cool, scours the -battlements and the breach, the bastions and the ramparts--always -there where he is needed most, where spirits want reviving or courage -needs the impetus of praise. He knows as well as they do that -gunpowder is running short, that arrows are few and thousands of -weapons broken with usage: he knows, better than they do, that if de -Balagny's troop tarries much longer all this heroic resistance will -have been in vain. - -So he keeps his own indomitable little army on the leash, husbanding -precious lives and no less precious ammunition; keeping them back, -well away from the parapets, lest the sight of the enemy down below -lead them on to squander both. Thus, of all that goes on beneath the -walls, of the nature of the attack or the chances of a surprise, the -stout defenders can see nothing. Only Gilles, whilst scouring the -lines, can see; for he has crawled on his hands and knees to the -outermost edge of the crumbling parapet and has gazed down upon the -Duke of Parma's hordes. - - -V - -Now the Spanish halbertmen have reached the hither side of the moat. -The breach is before them, tantalizingly open. The lancers are -following over the improvised bridges, and behind them the musketeers -are sending a volley of shot over their heads into the breach. It is -all done with much noise and clash of steel and thundering artillery -and cries of 'Long live King Philip!'--all to cover the disposing of -scaling ladders against the walls. - -The pikemen are executing this surprise attack, one in which they are -adepts. The noisy onslaught, the roar of artillery, the throwing of -dust in the eyes of wearied defenders; then the silent scaling of the -walls, the rush upon the battlements, wholesale panic and slaughter. - -Alexander Farnese hath oft employed these devices and hath never -known them to fail. So the men throw down their pikes, carry pistols -in their right hand and a short dagger-like sword between their -teeth. They fix their ladders--five of them--and begin quite -noiselessly to mount. Ten on each ladder, which makes fifty all -told, and they the flower of the Duke of Parma's troops. Up they -swarm like human ants striving to reach a hillock. Now the gunners -have to cease firing, lest they hit those ladders with their human -freight. - -And while at the breach the men of Cambray make their last desperate -stand, the first of the Spanish pikemen has reached the topmost rung -of his ladder. The human ants have come to the top of their hillock. -Already the foremost amongst them has begun to hoist himself up, with -his hands clinging to the uneven masonry. The next second or two -would have seen him with his leg over the parapet, and already a cry -of triumph has risen to his lips, when suddenly, before his -horror-stricken gaze, a man surges up, as if out of the ground, -stands there before him for one second, which is as tense as it is -terrifying. Then, with a mighty blow from some heavy weapon which he -holds, he fells the pikeman down. The man loses his footing, gives a -loud cry of horror and falls headlong some forty feet. In his fall -he drags two or three of his comrades with him. But the ladder still -stands, and on it the human ants, reinforced at once by others, -resume their climb. Only for a minute--no more! The next, a pair of -hands with titanic strength and a grip of iron seizes the ladder by -the shafts, holds it for one brief, agonizing moment, and then hurls -it down with the whole of its human freight into the depth below. - -An awful cry rends the air, but is quickly drowned by the roar of -cannon and musketry. It has been a mere incident. The Duke has not -done more than mutter an oath in his beard. He is watching the four -other ladders on which his human ants are climbing. But the oath -dies on his lips--even he becomes silent in face of the appalling -catastrophe which he sees. That man up there whom already he has -learned to fear, that man in the tattered doublet and the ragged -hose--he it is who has turned the tables on Farnese's best _ruse de -guerre_. With lightning rapidity and wellnigh superhuman strength, -he repeats his feat once more. Once more a scaling ladder bearing -its precious human freight is hurled down into the depth. The man -now appears like a Titan. Ye gods! or ye devils! which of you gave -him that strength? Now he has reached the third ladder. Just -perhaps one second too late, for the leading pikeman has already -gained a foothold upon the battlements, stands there on guard to -shield the ladder; for he has scented the danger which threatens him -and his comrades. His pistol is raised even as Gilles approaches. -The Duke of Parma feels as if his heart had stilled its beating. -Another second, and that daring rebel would be laid low. - -But Gilles too has seen the danger--the danger to himself and to the -city which he is defending. No longer has he the time to seize the -ladder as he has done before, no longer the chance of exerting that -titanic strength which God hath lent him so that he might save -Cambray. One second--it is the most precious one this threatened -city hath yet known, for in it Fate is holding the balance, and the -life of her defender is at stake. One second! - -The Spanish pikemen are swarming up dangerously near now to the -battlements. The next instant Gilles has picked up a huge piece of -masonry from the ground, holds it for one moment with both hands -above his head, then hurls it with all his might against the ladder. -The foremost man is the first to fall. His pistol goes off in his -hand with a loud report. Immediately below him the weight of the -falling stone has made matchwood of the ladder and the men are hurled -to their death, almost without uttering a groan. The Flemish -halbertmen in the meanwhile have rushed up to the battlements; seeing -Gilles' manoeuvre, they are eager to emulate it. There are two more -ladders propped against the falling walls and their leader's strength -must in truth be spent. And there are still more Spaniards to come, -more of those numberless hordes, before whom a handful of untrained -burghers are making their last and desperate stand. - -Just then Gilles has paused in order to gaze once more into the -far-away west. Already the gold of the sun has turned to rose and -crimson, already the low-lying horizon appears aflame with the -setting glow. But now upon the distant horizon line something -appears to move, something more swift and sudden and vivid than the -swaying willows by the river bank or the tall poplars nodding to the -evening breeze. Flames of fire dart and flash, a myriad specks of -dust gleam like lurid smoke and the earth shakes with the tramp of -many horses' hoofs. Far away on the Bapaume road the forerunners of -de Balagny's troops are seen silhouetted against the glowing sky. - -Gilles has seen them. Aid has come at last. One more stupendous -effort, one more superhuman exertion of will, and the day is won. He -calls aloud to the depleted garrison, to that handful of men who, -brave and undaunted, stand around him still. - -'At them, burghers of Cambray! France comes to your aid! See her -mighty army thundering down the road! Down with the Spaniard! This -is the hour of your victory!' - -As many times before, his resonant voice puts heart into them once -again. Once again they grip halberds and lances with the -determination born of hope. They rush to the battlements and with -mighty hands hurl the Spanish scaling ladders from their walls, pick -up bits of stone, fragments of granite and of iron, use these as -missiles upon the heads of the attacking party below. The archers on -one knee shoot with deadly precision. They have been given half a -dozen arrows each--the last--and every one of them finds its mark. - -Surprised and confounded by this recrudescence of energy, the -Spaniards pause. An hundred of them lie dead or dying at the foot of -the wall. Their ranks are broken; don Miguel tries to rally them. -But he is hit by an arrow in the throat, ere he succeeds. De Landas -is close by, runs to the rescue, tries to re-form the ranks, and sees -Gilles de Crohin standing firm upon the battlements and hears his -triumphant, encouraging cry: - -'Citizens of Cambray, France has come to your aid!' - -Confusion begins to wave her death-dealing wand. The halbertmen at -the breach stand for full five minutes almost motionless under a hail -of arrows and missiles, waiting for the word of command. - -And on the Bapaume road, de Balagny and his troops are quickly -drawing nigh. Already the white banner with the gold Fleur-de-Lys -stands out clearly against the sky. - -Parma has seen it, and cursed with savage fury. He is a great and -mighty warrior and knows that the end has come. The day has brought -failure and disgrace; duty now lies in saving a shred of honour and -the remnants of a scattered army. He cannot understand how it has -all happened, whence this French troop has come and by whose orders. -He is superstitious and mystical and fears to see in this the -vengeful finger of God. So he crosses himself and mutters a quick -prayer, even as a volley of musketry fired insolently into the air, -reverberates down the Bapaume road. - -France is here with her great armies, her unconquered generals: -Condé, Turenne, have come to the rescue. Parma's wearied troops -cannot possibly stand the strain of fighting in the rear whilst still -pushing home the attack in front. How numerous is the French -advancing troop it is impossible to guess. They come with mighty -clatter and many useless volleys of musketry, with jingling of -harness and breastplates and clatter of hoofs upon the road. They -come with a mighty shout of 'Valois! and Fleur-de-Lys!' They wave -their banners and strike their lances and pikes together. They come! -They come! - -And the half-exhausted Spanish army hears and sees them too. The -halbertmen pause and listen, the archers halt halfway across the -moat, whilst all around the whisper goes from mouth to mouth: - -"The French are on us! Sauve qui peut!" - -Panic seizes the men. They turn and scurry back over the declivity -of the moat. The stampede has commenced: first the cavalry, then the -infantrymen, for the French are in the rear and legions of unseen -spirits have come to the aid of Cambray. - -The Duke of Parma now looks like a broken wreck of his former -arrogant self. His fine accoutrements are torn, the trappings of his -charger are in tatters, his beard has been singed with gunpowder, he -has no hat, no cloak. Raging fury is in his husky voice as he shouts -orders and counter-orders to men who no longer hear. He calls to his -officers, alternately adjures and insults them. But the French -troops draw nearer and nearer, and nothing but Death will stop those -running Spanish soldiers now. - -To right and left of the Bapaume road they run, leaving that road -free for the passage of de Balagny's small troop. Out in the western -sky, the sun is setting in a mantle of vivid crimson, which is like -the colour of human blood. The last glow illumines the final -disgrace of Parma's hitherto unconquered hordes. The cavalry is -galloping back to the distant camp, with broken reins and stirrups -hanging loose, steel bonnets awry, swords, lances, broken or wilfully -thrown aside. Behind them, the infantry, the archers, the pikemen, -the halberdiers--all running and dragging their officers away with -them in their flight. - -Parma's unconquered army has ceased to be. - - -VI - -Then it is that Gilles de Crohin stands once again on the very edge -of the broken parapet and fronts the valiant men of Cambray, who have -known how to conquer and how to die. The setting sun draws lines of -glowing crimson round his massive figure. His clothes are now mere -tattered rags; he is bleeding from several wounds; his face is almost -unrecognizable, coal-black with grime and powder; but his eyes still -sparkle with pride of victory. - -'Citizens of Cambray, you are free!' he cries. 'Long live France! -Long live the Flower o' the Lily!' - -And down in the plain below, where the remnants of a disintegrated -army are being slowly swallowed up by the gathering dusk, the Duke of -Parma has paused for one moment before starting on his own headlong -flight. He sees the man who has beaten his mighty armies, the man -whose valour and indomitable will has inflicted untarnishable -humiliation upon the glory of Spain. With a loud curse, he cries: - -'Will no one rid me of that insolent rebel?' - -De Landas is near him just then. He too had paused to look once -again on the city which had been his home and which he had so basely -betrayed, and once again on the man whom he hated with an intensity -of passion which this day of glory and infamy had for ever rendered -futile. - -'If I do,' he retorts exultantly, 'what will your Highness give me?' - -'Cambray and all it contains,' replies the Duke fiercely. - -De Landas gives a cry of prescient triumph. A lancer is galloping -by. The young man, with a swift, powerful gesture, seizes the horse -by the bridle, forces it back on its haunches till it rears and -throws its rider down into the mud. De Landas swings himself into -the saddle, rides back to within a hundred paces of the city walls. -Here confusion is still holding sway; belated runaways are darting -aimlessly hither and thither like helpless sheep; the wounded and the -maimed are making pitiable efforts to find a corner wherein to hide. -The ground is littered with the dead and the dying, with abandoned -cannon and spent arrows, with pikes and halberts and broken swords -and lances. - -De Landas halts, jumps down from his horse, looks about him for a -crossbow and a quiver, and finds what he wants. Then he selects his -position carefully, well under cover and just near enough to get a -straight hit at the man whom he hates more than anything else in the -world. Opportunity seems to favour him. Gilles is standing well -forward on the broken parapet, his throat and chest are bare, his -broad figure stands out clear-cut against the distant sky. He is -gazing out towards the west, straight in the direction where de -Landas is cowering--a small, unperceived unit in the inextricable -confusion which reigns around. - -He has found the place which best suits his purpose, has placed his -stock in position and adjusted his arrow. Being a Spanish gentleman, -he is well versed in the use of every weapon necessary for war. He -takes careful aim, for he is in no hurry and is determined not to -miss. - -'Cambray and all it contains!' the Duke of Parma has promised him if -he succeeds in his purpose. - -One second, and the deed is done. The arrow has whizzed through the -air. The next instant, Gilles de Crohin has thrown up his arms. - -'Citizens of Cambray, wait for France!' he cries, and before any of -his friends can get to him, he has given one turn and then fallen -backwards into the depth below. - -De Landas has already thrown down his crossbow, recaptured his horse -and galloped back at break-neck speed in the wake of the flying army. - -And even then the joy-bells of Cambray begin to ring their merry -peal. Balagny's troops have entered the city through the open breach -in her walls, whilst down there in the moat, on a pile of dying and -dead, her defender and saviour lies with a murderous arrow in his -breast. - - -VII - -De Landas rides like one possessed away from the scene of his -dastardly deed; nor does he draw rein till he has come up once more -with the Duke of Parma. - -'At any rate, we are rid of him,' he says curtly. 'And next time we -attack, it will only be with an undisciplined mob that we shall have -to deal.' - -All around him the mighty army of Parma is melting like snow under -the first kiss of a warm sun. Every man who hath limbs left -wherewith to run, flies panic-stricken down the roads, across fields -and rivulets and morasses, throwing down arms, overturning everything -that comes in his way, not heeding the cries of the helpless and -trampling on the dead. - -Less than an hour has gone by since France's battle-cry first -resounded on the Bapaume road, and now there is not one Spanish -soldier left around the walls of Cambray, save the wounded and the -slain. These lie about scattered everywhere, like pawns upon an -abandoned chess-board. The moat below the breach is full of them. -Maître Jehan le Bègue has not far to seek for the master and comrade -whom he loves so dearly. He has seen him fall from the parapet, -struck by the cowardly hand of an assassin in the very hour of -victory. So, whilst de Balagny's chief captains enter Cambray in -triumph, Jehan seeks in the moat for the friend whom he has lost. - -He finds him lying there with de Landas' arrow still sticking in the -wound in his breast. Maître Jehan lifts him as tenderly as a mother -would lift her sick child, hoists him across his broad shoulders, and -then slowly wends his way along the road back to La Fère. - - - - -CHAPTER XXV - -HOW CAMBRAY STARVED AND ENDURED - - -I - -As for the rest, 'tis in the domain of history. Not only Maître -Manuchet, but Le Carpentier in his splendid _History of Cambray_, has -told us how the Duke of Parma's armies, demoralized by that day of -disasters, took as many weeks to recuperate and to rally as did the -valiant city to recover from her wounds. - -Too late did Parma discover that he had been hoaxed, that the massed -French troops, who had terrified his armies, consisted of a handful -of men, who had been made to shout and to make much noise, so as to -scare those whom they could not have hoped to conquer in open fight. -It was too late now for the great general to retrieve his blunder; -but not too late to prepare a fresh line of action, wait for -reinforcements, reorganize the forces at his command and then to -resume the siege of Cambray, with the added hope of inflicting -material punishment upon the rebel city for the humiliation which she -had caused him to endure. - -The French armies were still very far away. Parma's numerous spies -soon brought him news that Monsieur Duc d'Anjou, was only now busy in -collecting and training a force which eventually might hope to vie in -strength and equipment with the invincible Spanish troops, whilst the -King of France would apparently have nothing to do with the affair -and openly disapproved of his brother's intervention in the business -of the Netherlands. - -The moment therefore was all in favour of the Spanish commander; but -even so he did not again try to take Cambray by storm. Many -historians have averred that a nameless superstition was holding him -back, that he had seen in the almost supernatural resistance of the -city, the warning finger of God. Be that as it may, he became, after -the day of disaster, content to invest the approaches to the French -frontier, and after awhile, when his reinforcements had arrived, he -formed with his armies a girdle around Cambray with a view to -reducing her by starvation. - -A less glorious victory mayhap, but a more assured one! - - -II - -So Cambray starved and endured. - -For four months her citizens waited, confident that the promised help -from France would come in the end. They had hoped and trusted on -that never-to-be-forgotten day four months ago when they covered -themselves with glory, and their trust had not been misplaced. The -masked stranger whom they had followed unto death and victory, the -man who had rallied them and cheered them, who had shown them the -example of intrepid valour and heroic self-sacrifice, had promised -them help from France on that day, and that help had come just as he -had promised. Now that he was gone from them, the burghers and the -soldiers, the poor and the rich alike--aye! even the women and the -children--would have felt themselves eternally disgraced if they had -surrendered their city which he had so magnificently defended. - -So they tightened their belts and starved, and waited with stoicism -and patience for the hour of their deliverance. - -And every evening when the setting sun threw a shaft of crimson light -through the stately windows of Notre Dame, and the gathering dusk -drew long shadows around the walls, the people of Cambray would meet -on the Place d'Armes inside the citadel, and pray for the return of -the hero who had fought for their liberty. Men and women with pale, -gaunt faces, on which hunger and privations had already drawn -indelible lines; men and women, some of whom had perhaps never before -turned their thoughts to anything but material cares and material -pleasures, flocked now to pray beneath the blue vault of heaven and -to think of the man who had saved them from ruin and disgrace. - -Nobody believed that he was dead; though many had seen him fall, they -felt that he would return. God Himself had given Cambray her -defender in the hour of her greatest peril: God had not merely given -in order to take away again. Vague rumours were afloat that the -mysterious hero was none other than the Duc d'Anjou, own brother of -the King of France, who one day would be Sovereign Lord over all the -United Provinces; but as to that, no one cared. He who was gone was -the Defender of Cambray: as such, he was enshrined in thousands of -hearts, as such he would return one day to receive the gratitude and -the love of the people who worshipped him. - - -III - -Le Carpentier draws a kindly veil over the sufferings of the -unfortunate city. With pathetic exactitude, he tells us that a cow -during the siege fetched as much as three hundred francs--an enormous -sum these days--a sheep fifty francs, an egg forty sols and an ounce -of salt eight sols; but he altogether omits to tell us what happened -to the poor people, who had neither fifty francs nor yet forty sols -to spend. - -Maître Manuchet, on the other hand, assures us that at one time bread -was entirely unobtainable and that rats and mice formed a part of the -daily menu of the rich. He is more crude in his statements than Le -Carpentier, and even lifts for our discreet gaze just one corner of -that veil, wherewith history has chosen to conceal for ever the -anguish of a suffering city. He shows us three distinct pictures, -only sketched in in mere outline, but with boldness and an obvious -regard for truth. - -One of these pictures is of Jacqueline de Broyart, the wealthy -heiress who shared with the departed hero the worship of the citizens -of Cambray. Manuchet speaks of her as of an angel of charity, -healing and soothing with words and hands and heart, as of a vision -of paradise in the midst of a torturing hell--her courage and -endurance a prop for drooping spirits; her voice a sweet, insistent -sound above the cries of pain, the curses and the groans. Wide-eyed -and pale, but with a cheering smile upon her lips, she flits through -the deserted streets of Cambray, bringing the solace of her presence, -the help that can be given, the food that can be shared, to many a -suffering home. - -Of the man who hath possession of her heart, she never speaks with -those in authority; but when in a humble home there is talk of the -hero who has gone and of his probable return, she listens in silence, -and when conjectures fly around her as to his identity, she even -tries to smile. But in her heart she knows that her knight--the man -whom the people worship--will never come back. France will send -troops and aid and protection anon; a puissant Prince will enter -Cambray mayhap at the head of his troops and be acclaimed as the -saviour of Cambray. She would no doubt in the fullness of time -plight her troth to that man, and the people would be told that this -was indeed the Duc d'Anjou et d'Alençon, who had once before stood -upon the ramparts of Cambray and shouted his defiant cry: 'À moi, -citizens; and let the body of each one of you here be a living -rampart for the defence of your homes!' - -But she would know that the man who spoke those inspiring words had -gone from her for ever. Who he was, where he came from, what had -brought him to Cambray under a disguise and an assumed name, she -would perhaps never know. Nor did she care. He was the man she -loved: the man whose passionate ardour had thrilled her to the soul, -whose touch had been as magic, whose voice had been perfect music set -in perfect time. He was the man she loved--her knight. Throughout -that day upon the ramparts she had seen him undaunted, intrepid, -unconquered--rallying those who quaked, cheering those who needed -help, regardless of danger, devoted even unto death. So what cared -she what was his name? Whoever he was, he was worthy of her love. - - -IV - -The second picture which the historian shows us is more dispiriting -and more grim. It is a picture of Cambray in the last days of July. -The Spanish armies have invested the city completely for over eight -weeks, and Cambray has been thrown entirely on her own resources and -the activities of a few bold spirits for the barest necessities of -life. Starvation--grim and unrelenting--is taking her toll of the -exhausted population; disease begins to haunt the abodes of squalor -and of misery. - -France has promised aid and France still tarries. - -Mayhap France has forgotten long ago. - -In Cambray now a vast silence reigns--the silence of impending doom. -The streets are deserted during the day, the church bells are silent. -Only at evening, in the gloom, weird and melancholy sounds fill the -air, groans and husky voices, and at times the wild shriek of some -demented brain. - -Cambray has fought for her liberty; now she is enduring for it--and -enduring it with a fortitude and determination, which is one Of the -most glorious entries in the book of the recording angel. Every -morning at dawn the heralds of the Spanish commander mount the -redoubt on the Bapaume road, and with a loud flourish of brass -trumpets they demand in the name of His Majesty the King of Spain the -surrender of the rebel city. And every day the summons is answered -by a grim and defiant silence. After which, Cambray settles down to -another day of suffering. - -The city fathers have worked wonders in organization. From the -first, the distribution of accumulated provisions has been systematic -and rigidly fair. But those distributions, from being scanty have -become wholly insufficient, and lives that before flickered feebly, -have gone out altogether, while others continue a mere struggle for -existence, which would be degrading were its object not so sublime. - -Cambray will not surrender! She would sooner starve and rot and be -consumed by fire, but with her integrity whole, her courage -undoubted, the honour of her women unsullied. Disease may haunt her -streets, famine knock at every door; but at least while her citizens -have one spark of life left in their bodies, while their emaciated -hands have a vestige of power wherewith to grasp a musket, no Spanish -soldier shall defile her pavements, no Spanish commander work his -tyrannical will with her. - -Cambray will not surrender! She believes in her defender and her -saviour!--in his words that France will presently come with -invincible might and powerful armies, when all her sufferings will be -turned to relief and to joy. And every evening when lights are put -out and darkness settles down upon the stricken city, wrapping under -her beneficent mantle all the misery, the terrors and the heroism, -men and women lay themselves down to their broken rest with a last -murmur of hope, a last invocation to God for the return of the hero -in whom lies their trust. - - -V - -And in the Town Hall the city fathers sit in Council, with Messire de -Balagny there, and Monseigneur d'Inchy presiding. They, too, appear -grimly resolved to endure and to hold out; the fire of patriotism and -of enthusiasm burns in their hearts, as it does in the heart of every -burgher, noble or churl in the city. But, side by side with -enthusiasm, stalks the grim shadow of prescience--knowledge of the -resources which go, diminishing bit by bit, until the inevitable hour -when hands and mouths will still be stretched out for food and there -will be nothing left to give. - -Even now, it is less than bare subsistence which can be doled out day -by day; and in more than one face assembled this day around the -Council Board, there is limned the grim line of nascent despair. - -It is only d'Inchy who has not lost one particle of his faith, one -particle of self-confidence and of belief in ultimate triumph. - -'If ye begin to doubt,' he exclaims with tragic directness, 'how will -ye infuse trust in the hearts of your people?' - -The Chief Magistrate shakes his head; the Provosts are silent. More -than one man wipes a surreptitious tear. - -'We must give the people something to hearten them,' has been the -persistent call from those in authority. - -De Balagny interposes: - -'Our spies have succeeded in evading the Spanish lines more than -once. One of them returned yesterday from La Fère. He says the Duc -d'Anjou is wellnigh ready. The next month should see the end of our -miseries.' - -'A month!' sighs the Chief Magistrate. 'The people cannot hold out -another month. They are on the verge of despair.' - -'They begin to murmur,' adds one of the Provosts glumly. - -'And some demand that we surrender the city,' concludes de Lalain. - -'Surrender the city!' exclaimed d'Inchy vehemently. 'Never!' - -'Then can Monseigneur suggest something?' riposts the Chief -Magistrate dryly, 'that will restore confidence to a starving -population?' - -'The help from France almost within sight,' urges Monseigneur. - -The Provosts shrug their shoulders. - -'So long delayed,' one of them says. 'The people have ceased to -believe in it.' - -'Many declare the Duke is dead,' urges another. - -'But ye know better than that, Messires,' retorts d'Inchy sternly. - -Again one or two of the older men shrug their shoulders. - -'I saw him fall from the ramparts,' asserts one. - -'He was struck full in the breast by an arrow,' says another, 'shot -by an unseen hand--some abominable assassin. His Highness gave one -turn and fell into the moat below.' - -'And was immediately found and picked up by some of my men,' retorts -de Balagny hotly. 'Mine oath on it! Our spies have seen him--spoken -with him. The Duc d'Anjou is alive and on his way to Cambray. I'd -stake on it the salvation of my soul!' - -The others sigh, some of them dubiously, others with renewed hope. -From their talk we gather that not one of them has any doubt in his -mind as to the identity of the brave defender of Cambray. Nothing -had in truth happened to shake their faith in him, and de Balagny had -said nothing to shake that faith. On that fateful day in April they -had been convened to witness the betrothal of Madame Jacqueline de -Broyart to _Monsieur_ Duc d'Anjou, had been presented to His Highness -and kissed his hands. Then suddenly all had been confusion--the -panic, the surprise attack, the runaway soldiers, and finally the one -man who rallied every quaking spirit and defended the city with heart -and mind, with counsel and strength of arm, until he fell by an -unseen assassin's hand: he, the Duc d'Anjou, of the princely House of -France--the future Sovereign Lord of a United Netherlands. - -For awhile there is absolute stillness in the Council room. No one -speaks; hardly does any one stir. Only the massive clock over the -monumental hearth ticks out every succeeding second with relentless -monotony. Monseigneur is buried in thought. The others wait, -respectfully silent. Then suddenly d'Inchy looks up and gazes -determinedly on the faces round him. - -'Madame Jacqueline must help us,' he says firmly. - -'Madame Jacqueline?' the Chief Magistrate exclaims. 'How?' - -'On the Place d'Armes--one evening--during the intercession,' -Monseigneur goes on, speaking rapidly and with unhesitating resolve. -'She will make a solemn declaration before the assembled -people--plight her troth to the Duc d'Anjou, who, though still -absent, has sent her a token of his immediate arrival.' - -'Sent her a token?' most of them murmur, astonished. And even de -Balagny frowns in puzzlement. - -'Yes,' rejoins d'Inchy impatiently. 'Cannot you see? You say the -people no longer believe in the coming of His Highness. Our spies -and the news they bring no longer carry weight. But if we say that -the Duke hath sent a token....' - -'I understand,' murmurs the Chief Magistrate, and the others nod in -comprehension. - -'Madame Jacqueline will not demur,' d'Inchy continues insistently. -'She will accept the assurance from me that one of our spies has come -in contact with _Monsieur_ and brought back a fresh token of his -promise to her ... a ring, for instance. We have many valuable ones -in our city treasury. One of them will serve our purpose.' Then, as -the city dignitaries are still silent, somewhat perturbed at all that -sophistry--''Tis for the sake of our city, Messires,' d'Inchy urges -with a note of pleading in his usually commanding voice. 'A little -deception, when so much good may come of it! what is it? Surely you -can reconcile it with your consciences!' - -To him the matter seems trivial. One deception more or -less--hitherto the path had been so easy. He frowns, seeing that -this tiresome pack of old men hesitate, when to acquiesce might even -now save their city. Anyhow, he is the governor. His word is law. -For the nonce he chooses to argue and to persuade, but anon he -commands. - -The city dignitaries--the old men for the most part, and with -impaired health after weeks of privation--have but little real -resistance in them. D'Inchy was always a man of arbitrary will and -persuasive eloquence. De Balagny is soon won over. He ranges -himself on the side of the governor, and helps in the work of -demolishing the bulwark of the Magistrate's opposition. The latter -yields--reluctantly, perhaps--but still he yields. After all, there -is no harm whatever in the deception. No one could possibly suffer -in consequence. Madame Jacqueline has always expressed herself ready -to marry the Duc d'Anjou--a hero and a doughty knight, if ever there -was one!--and in any case it were an inestimable boon to put fresh -heart into the starving population. - -So gradually the others yield, and Monseigneur is satisfied. He -elaborates his plan, his mind full of details to make the result more -sure. A public ceremony: Jacqueline once more publicly betrothed to -the Duc d'Anjou--dedicated, in fact, like a worshipper to some patron -saint. Then the people made to realize that the Duc d'Anjou is -already known to them as their hero, their defender and their -saviour; that he is not dead, but coming back to them very soon at -the head of his armies this time, to save them once for all from the -Spaniards, whilst he remains with them to the end of his days as -their chosen Sovereign Lord and King. - -Monseigneur has worked himself up to a high pitch of enthusiasm, -carries the others with him now, until they cast aside all foreboding -and gloom and hope springs afresh in their hearts. - - -VI - -Thus we see the third and last picture which Enguerrand de Manuchet -shows us of Cambray in her agony. It is a picture that is even more -vivid than the others, more alive in the intensity of its pathos. We -see inside the citadel on the last day of July, 1581. And of all the -episodes connected with the memorable siege of Cambray and with its -heroic defence, not one perhaps is more moving than that of this huge -concourse of people--men, women and tiny children--assembled here and -for such a purpose, under the blue dome of the sky. - -The grim walls of the ancient castle around them are hung with worn -and tattered flags; they are like the interior of a church, decked -out with all the solemnity of a marriage ceremony and all the pathos -of a De Profundis. - -Jacqueline, indifferent to everything save to the welfare of the -city, has accepted without resistance or doubt Monseigneur's story of -the spy, the Duc d'Anjou and the token. The ring, borrowed for the -occasion from the city treasury, she has taken without any misgiving, -as coming straight from the man whom she is destined to marry. She -had promised long ago to wed _Monsieur_ Duc d'Anjou, because the weal -of her country was, it seems, wrapped up in that union. All those -who worked for the glorious future of Flanders had assured her that -much of it depended in her acquiescence to this alliance with France. - -With her heart for ever buried beneath the ramparts of Cambray, side -by side with the gallant knight who had given his life for the -beloved city, she cared little, if at all, what became of her. The -Duc d'Anjou or another--what did it matter?--but preferably the Duc -d'Anjou if her country's welfare demands that he should be the man. - -No wonder that this last picture stirs even the heart of the -dry-as-dust old historian to enthusiasm. Noble and churl, burghers -and dignitaries and soldiers, toilers and ragamuffins, all are -there--those who can walk or stand or crawl. Those who are hale drag -or support those that are sick, bring tattered mattresses along or a -litter of straw for them to lie on. But they all come to see a woman -make a solemn profession of faith in the man who is to bring -deliverance to the agonizing city. - -They come in their thousands; but thousands more are unable to find -room upon the Place or within the Citadel. Even so, they line the -streets all the way to the Archiepiscopal Palace, whilst all those -who are so privileged watch Madame Jacqueline's progress through the -streets from their windows or their balconies. Fortunately the day -has been brilliantly fine ever since morning, and the sun shines -radiant upon this one day which is almost a happy one. - -For many hours before that fixed for the ceremony, the streets seethe -with the crowd--a pathetic crowd, in truth: gaunt, feeble, weary, in -tattered clothes, some scarce able to drag themselves along, others -sick and emaciated, clinging to the posts at the corners of the -streets, just to get one peep at what has come to be regarded as a -tangible ray of hope. A silent, moveless crowd, whose husky voice -has scarce a cheer in it; as Jacqueline passes by, walking between -Monseigneur the governor and the Chief Magistrate, bare arms are -waved here and there, in a feeble attempt at jubilation. But there -is no music, no beating of drums or waving of banners; there is no -alms-giving, no largesse! All that the rich and the prosperous -possessed in the past has been shared and distributed long ago. - -In spite of the brilliant weather, the scene is dark and dreary. The -weary, begrimed faces do not respond to the joyous kiss of the sun; -the smile of hope has not the power to dry every tear. - - -VII - -And now Jacqueline stands, like a white Madonna lily, in the centre -of the Place d'Armes. Monseigneur the governor is beside her and -around her are grouped the high dignitaries of the city, standing or -sitting upon low velvet-covered stools. The Chief Magistrate and -Messire de Balagny are in the forefront, and behind them are the -members of the States General and of the Town, the Provosts and -Captains of the City Guard. The picture is sombre still, despite the -banners of the guilds and the flags of various provinces which hang -along the walls of the Citadel. The russets and browns, the blacks -and dull reds, absorb the evening light without throwing back any -golden reflections. The shadows are long and dense. - -The white satin of Jacqueline's gown is the one bright note of colour -against the dull and drab background; its stiff folds gleam with -honey-coloured lights in the slowly sinking sun. She has allowed old -Nicolle to deck her out in all her finery, the gown which she wore on -that night--oh! so very long ago--at the banquet, the one with the -pale green underdress which Messire declared made her look so like a -lily; the pearls in her hair; the velvet shoes on her feet. - -'I will plight my troth publicly to the Defender of Cambray!' she had -said to her guardian, when Monseigneur had first spoken of the -proposed ceremony. - -'To Monsieur Duc d'Anjou et d'Alençon, my child,' Monseigneur had -insisted, and frowned slightly at what he called his ward's romantic -fancies. - -''Tis to the Defender of Cambray that I will dedicate my faith,' she -had continued obstinately. - -'Let the child be!' de Lalain had interposed, seeing that d'Inchy was -about to lose his temper. 'After all, what does it matter, seeing -that the Defender of Cambray and Monsieur Duc d'Anjou are one and the -same?' - -D'Inchy gave in. It did not really matter. If Jacqueline still -harboured a doubt as to the identity of the masked stranger, it would -soon be dispelled when Monsieur entered Cambray and came to claim her -openly. Women were apt to have strange fancies; and this one, on -Jacqueline's part, was harmless enough. - -In any case, she appeared satisfied, and henceforth was quite -submissive. In the midst of her sorrow, she felt a sweet, sad -consolation in the thought that she would publicly plight her troth -to the man whom she loved, proclaim before the whole world--her world -that is, the only one that mattered--that she was for ever affianced -to the brave man who had given his life, that Cambray might be saved. - -In an inward vision she could see him still, as she saw him on that -day upon the ramparts, with the April sun gilding his close-cropped -head, with the light of enthusiasm dancing in his eyes, his arms -bare, his clothes torn, his vibrant voice resounding from wall to -wall and from bastion to bastion, till something of his own fire was -communicated to all those who fought under his command. - -To Jacqueline he was still so marvellously, so powerfully alive, even -though his body lay stark and still at the foot of those walls which -he had so bravely defended. He seemed to be smiling down on her from -the clear blue of the sky, to nod at her with those banners which he -had helped to keep unsullied before the foe. She heard his voice -through the lengthy perorations of Monseigneur, the murmured -approbation of the Provosts, through the cheers of the people. She -felt his presence now as she had felt it through the past four weary -months, while Cambray suffered and starved, and bore starvation and -misery with that fortitude which he had infused into her. - -And while Monseigneur the governor spoke his preliminary harangue, to -which the people listened in silence, she stood firm and ready to -speak the words which, in accordance with the quaint and ancient -Flemish custom, would betroth her irrevocably to the man chosen for -her by her guardians, even though he happened to be absent at the -moment. For her, those words, the solemn act, would only register -the vow which she had made long ago, the vow which bound her soul for -ever to the hero who had gone. - -'It is my purpose,' Monseigneur said solemnly, 'to plight this my -lawful ward, Jacqueline, Dame de Broyart et de Morchipont, Duchesse -et Princesse de Ramèse, d'Espienne et de Wargny, unto His Royal -Highness, Hercule François de Valois, Duc d'Alençon et d'Anjou, and I -hereby desire to ask the members of my Council to give their consent -to this decree.' - -And the Chief Magistrate, speaking in the name of the States General -and of the City and Provincial Council, then gave answer: - -'Before acceding to your request, Monseigneur, we demand to know -whether Hercule François of Valois, Duc d'Alençon et d'Anjou, is an -honourable man, and possessed of sufficient goods to ensure that -Madame Jacqueline de Broyart et de Morchipont, Duchesse et Princesse -de Ramèse, d'Espienne et de Wargny, continue to live as she hath done -hitherto and in a manner befitting her rank.' - -Whereupon Messire de Balagny made reply: - -'His Royal Highness is a prince of the House of France; he defended -our city in the hour of her gravest peril and saved her from -destruction and from the fury of our Spanish foe. He is in every way -worthy to have our ward for wife.' - -'Wherefore, most honourable seigneurs,' continued the governor -solemnly, 'I do desire by your favour to grant the hand of Madame -Jacqueline to him in marriage.' - -'This request we would grant you, Monseigneur,' rejoined the Chief -Magistrate, 'but would ask you first how it comes that the bridegroom -himself is not here to claim his bride.' - -'The bridegroom,' replied d'Inchy, slowly and loudly, so that his -voice could be heard, clear and distinct, in every corner of the -great courtyard. 'The bridegroom is even at this hour within sight -of our beleaguered city. He is at the head of his armies and only -waits a favourable opportunity for demanding from the Spanish -commander that the latter do give him battle. The bridegroom, I say, -hath sent us a token of his goodwill and an assurance that he will -not tarry. He hath asked that Madame Jacqueline do plight her troth -to him before the assembled people of Cambray, so that they may know -that he is true and faithful unto them and take heart of courage -against his speedy coming for their deliverance.' - -A murmur--it could not be called a cheer, for voices were hoarse and -spent--went the round of the crowd. There were nods of approval; and -a gleam of hope, almost of joy, lit up many a wan face and many a -sunken eye. After so many deceptions, so much weary waiting and hope -deferred, this was at least something tangible, something to cling -to, whilst battling against the demons of hunger and disease which so -insidiously called for surrender. - -The Chief Magistrate, who together with Monseigneur had been chiefly -instrumental in engineering the present situation, waited for a -moment or two, giving time for the governor's cheering words to soak -well into the minds of the people. He was a tall, venerable-looking -old burgher, with a white beard clipped close to his long, thin face, -and a black velvet bonnet, now faded to a greenish hue by exposure to -all weathers, set upon his scanty hair. He drew up his bent -shoulders and threw back his head with a gesture expressive both of -confidence and of determination, and he allowed his deep-set eyes -beneath their bushy brows to wander over the populace, as if to say: -'See how right I was to bid you hope! Here you have an actual proof -that the end of your sufferings is in sight, that the deliverance for -which you pray is already at your gate!' After which, he turned once -again to d'Inchy and said loftily: - -'Monseigneur the governor! the people of Cambray here assembled have -heard with profound respect the declaration which you have deigned to -make, as to the intentions of His Royal Highness the Duc d'Anjou et -d'Alençon. On their behalf and on the behalf of the States of this -Town and Province whom I represent, I hereby affirm most solemnly -that we have the weal of our city at heart; that we will resist the -armies of the Duke of Parma with the whole might of our arms and our -will, awaiting tranquilly and with fortitude the hour of our -deliverance. We trust and believe that he who defended us so -valiantly four months ago will soon return to us, and rid us once and -for ever from the menace of our foe.' - -Once more a murmur of approval went round the Place. Wearied, aching -heads nodded approval; firm lips, thin and pale, were set with a -recrudescence of energy. All the stoicism of this heroic race was -expressed in their simple acceptance of this fresh term of endurance -imposed upon them, in their willingness to hope on again, to wait and -to submit, and in their mute adhesion to the profession of faith -loudly proclaimed by their Chief dignitary: 'awaiting tranquilly and -with fortitude the hour of our deliverance.' - -'And now, Monseigneur,' concluded the Magistrate impressively, 'in -the name of your Council, I herewith make acceptance of His Royal -Highness, Hercule François of Valois, Duc d'Alençon et d'Anjou, -prince of the House of France, defender and saviour of Cambray, to be -the future husband and guardian of Madame Jacqueline de Broyart, our -ward.' - -Monseigneur the governor now drew his sword, held it upright and -placed on it a hat and round his arm a mantle; then he took the ring, -which had been borrowed from the city treasury for the occasion, and -hung it on a projecting ornament of his sword-hilt. After which he -said, with great solemnity: - -'With these emblems I hereby entrust to His Royal Highness Hercule -François de Valois, Duc d'Anjou et d'Alençon, prince of the House of -France, the defender and saviour of Cambray in the hour of her -gravest peril, the custody of my ward Jacqueline, Dame de Broyart et -de Morchipont, Duchesse et Princesse de Ramèse, d'Espienne et de -Wargny; and as I have been her faithful custodian in the past, so do -I desire him to become her guardian and protector henceforth, taking -charge of her worldly possessions and duly administering them -faithfully and loyally.' - -After which he lowered his sword, put down the hat and the mantle and -presented the ring to Jacqueline, together with seven gloves, saying -the while: - -'Jacqueline, take these in exchange for the emblems of marital -authority which I herewith hold for and on behalf of your future -lord, and in the presence of all the people of Cambray here -assembled, I demand that you do plight your troth to him and that you -swear to be true and faithful unto him, to love and cherish him with -your heart and your body, to obey and serve him loyally as his wife -and helpmate, until death.' - -Jacqueline, by all the canons of this quaint custom, should have held -the ring and the gloves in her left hand and taken the solemn oath -with her right raised above her head. Instead of which, Manuchet -assures us that she laid down the ring and the gloves upon the chair -nearest to her, and clasped her two hands together as if in prayer. -She raised her small head and looked out upon the sky--there where -the setting sun hid its glory behind a filmy veil of rose-tinted -clouds. - -'In the name of the living God who made me,' she said, with solemn -and earnest fervour, 'I do hereby plight my troth to my lord, the -noble and puissant hero who defended Cambray in the hour of her -gravest peril, who saved her from destruction and taught her citizens -how to conquer and to endure, and I swear upon my life and upon my -every hope of salvation that I will be true and faithful unto him, -that I will love and cherish him with my heart and with my body and -will serve him loyally and unswervingly now and alway until our souls -meet in the presence of God.' - -A great hush had fallen on the vast courtyard while Jacqueline de -Broyart made her profession of faith; nor did a sound mar the perfect -stillness which lay over the heavy-laden city. This was a time of -great silences--silence of sorrow, of anxiety and pain. The women -frankly gave way to tears; but they were tears that fell soundlessly -from hollow eyes. The men did not weep--they just set their teeth, -and culled in that one woman's fervour fresh power for their own -endurance. - -The city dignitaries crowded round Jacqueline, kissing and pressing -her hands. Monseigneur the governor was looking greatly relieved. -From the tower of Notre Dame, the bells set forth a joyous peal--the -first that had been heard for many months. And that peal was -presently taken up, first by one church tower and then another, from -St. Waast to St. Martin, Ste. Croix to St. Géry. The happy sound -echoed and reverberated along the city walls, broke with its -insidious melody the gloomy silence which had lain over the streets -like a pall. - -Far away in the west the sun was slowly sinking in a haze of -translucent crimson, and tipped every church spire, every bastion and -redoubt with rose and orange and gold. For the space of a few more -minutes the citadel with its breathless and fervid crowd, with its -waving banners and grey walls, was suffused as with a flush of life -and hope. Then the shadows lengthened--longer and longer they grew, -deeper and more dense, like great, drab arms that enfold and conceal -and smother. Slowly the crimson glow faded out of the sky. - -Now the group in the centre appeared only like a sombre mass of dull -and lifeless colours; Jacqueline's white satin gown took on a leaden -hue; the brilliance of the sky had become like a presage of storm. -The women shivered beneath their ragged kerchiefs; some of the -children started to cry. - -Then, one by one, the crowd began to disperse. Walking, halting, -crawling, they wended their way back to their dreary homes,--there to -wait again, to suffer and to endure; there to conceal all the heroism -of this patient resignation, all the stoicism of a race which no -power could conquer, no tyranny force into submission. - -And once more silence descended on the hapless city, and the mantle -of night lay mercifully upon her grievous wounds. - - -VIII - -And far away in the Spanish camps, the soldiers and their captains -marvelled how joy-bells could be ringing in a city which was in the -throes of her death agony. But the Duke of Parma knew what it meant, -as did the members of his staff--del Fuente, his second in command, -de Salvado, Bracamonte, de Landas and the others. More than one of -their wily spies had succeeded before now in swimming across the -Schelde and in scaling the tumble-down walls of the heroic city, and -had brought back the news of what was doing in there, in the midst of -a starving and obstinate population. - -'The public betrothal to a fickle Prince who will never come,' said -the Duke grimly, between his teeth. 'At any rate, not before we have -worked our will with those mulish rebels.' - -'We could take their pestilent town by storm to-morrow,' remarked de -Landas, with a note of fierce hatred in his voice, 'if your Highness -would but give the order.' - -'Bah!' retorted the Duke. 'Let them rot! Why should we waste -valuable lives and precious powder, when the next few days must see -the final surrender of that peccant rat-hole?' - -He gave a coarse laugh and shrugged his shoulders. - -'I believe,' he said to de Landas, 'that I once promised you Cambray -and all that it contains--what?' - -'For ridding your Highness of the abominable rebel who organized the -defence last April,' assented de Landas. 'Yes! Cambray and all that -it contains was to be my reward.' - -'You killed the miscreant, I believe?' - -'I shot him through the heart. He lies rotting now beneath the -walls.' - -'Well!' riposted the Duke. 'You earned your reward easily enough. -There will be plenty left in Cambray, even after I have had my first -pick of its treasures.' - -De Landas made no protest. It would have been not only useless, but -also impolitic to remind His Highness that, at the moment when he -offered Cambray and all its contents to the man who would rid him of -a valiant foe, he had made no proviso that he himself should fill his -pockets first. There was no honour among these thieves and no -probity in these savage tyrants--brute beasts, most of them, who -destroyed and outraged whatever resisted their might. So de Landas -held his tongue; for even so, he was not dissatisfied. The Duke, -being rid of the rebel whom he feared, might easily have repudiated -the ignoble bargain in its entirety, and de Landas would have had no -redress. - -As it was, there was always Jacqueline. The Spanish commanders were -wont to make short shrift of Flemish heiresses who happened to be in -a city which they entered as conquerors. By decree of His Highness, -Jacqueline de Broyart would certainly be allocated to him--de -Landas--if he chose to claim her. Of a truth, she was still well -worth having--more so than ever, perhaps; for her spirit now would be -chastened by bodily privations, broken by humiliation at the hands of -the faithless Valois and by the death of her mysterious lover. - -'So long as the heiress is there for me,' he said carelessly to the -Duke, 'I am satisfied to let every other treasure go.' - -'Oh! you shall have the heiress,' riposted His Highness hilariously. -'Rumour hath described her as passing fair. You lucky devil! -Methinks you were even betrothed to her once.' - -'Oh! long ago, your Highness. Since then the oily promises of the -Duc d'Anjou have helped to erase my image from the tablets of Madame -Jacqueline's heart.' - -'Then she'll be all the more ready to fall back into your arms, now -that she has discovered the value of a Valois prince's faith.' - -After which pronouncement, the Duke of Parma dismissed the matter -from his mind and turned his attention to the table, richly spread -with every kind of delicacy, which had been laid for him in his tent. -He invited the gentlemen of his staff to sit, and as he dug his fork -into the nearest succulent dish, he said complacently: - -'Those pestiferous rebels out there cannot have as much as a mouse -between the lot of them, to fill their Flemish paunches. -Messeigneurs, here is to Cambray!' he added, as he lifted his silver -goblet filled to the brim with Rhenish wine. 'To Cambray, when we -march through her streets, ransack her houses and share her gold! To -Cambray, and the pretty Flemish wenches, if so be they have an ounce -of flesh left upon their bones! To de Landas' buxom heiress and his -forthcoming marriage with her! To you all, and the spoils which -these many months of weary waiting will help you to enjoy! To -Cambray, all ye gallant seigneurs!' - -His lusty toast was greeted with loud laughter. Metal goblets -clicked one against the other, every one drank to the downfall of the -rebellious city. De Landas accepted the jocose congratulations of -his boon-companions. He, too, raised his goblet aloft, and having -shouted: 'To Jacqueline!' drained it to its last drop. - -But when he set the goblet down, his hand was shaking perceptibly. -Cain-like, he had seen a vision of the man whom he had so foully -murdered. Accidentally he knocked over a bottle of red Burgundy, -which stood on the table close by, and the linen cloth all around him -was spread over with a dark crimson stain, which to the assassin -appeared like the colour of blood. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVI - -WHAT VALUE A VALOIS PRINCE SET UPON HIS WORD - - -I - -To Gilles de Crohin, when he woke to consciousness one morning in his -former lodging in La Fère, the whole of the past few weeks appeared -indeed like a long dream. - -Cambray--Jacqueline--his mask--his deceit--that last day upon the -ramparts--were they not all the creations of his fevered brain? -Surely a whole lifetime could not be crowded into so short a space of -time. No man could have lived through so much, loved so -passionately, have lost and fought and conquered so strenuously, all -within a few weeks. - -And when, after many days' enforced rest and a good deal of attention -from a skilful leech backed by Maître Jehan's unwavering care, he was -once more on his feet and was able to relate to Madame la Reyne de -Navarre the many vicissitudes of his perilous adventure, it seemed to -him as if he were recounting to a child, fairy tales and dream -stories which had never been. - -It was only at evening, when he wandered round the little Dutch -garden at the back of the house where he lodged, that Jacqueline came -to him, aglow with life--a living, breathing, exquisite reality. For -the Madonna lilies were all abloom in that garden just then: tall, -stately white lilies, which bordered one of the narrow paths. They -had slender, pale green stems, their fragrance filled the evening air -and the soft breeze stirred their delicate crowns. Then it would -seem to Gilles as if his Jacqueline were walking down the path beside -him, that the breeze blew the tendrils of her fair hair against his -nostrils and that her voice filled his ear with its sweet, melodious -sound. A big heartache would make the rough soldier sigh with -longing then. Unseen by any one, alone with his thoughts of her, he -would stretch out his arms to that tantalizing vision which seemed so -real and was yet so far, so very far away. - -Madame la Reyne would at times chaff him about his moodiness, and he -himself was ready to laugh aloud at his own folly. What right had -he--the uncouth soldier of fortune, the homeless adventurer--to think -of the great and noble lady, who was as far removed from him as were -the stars? What right indeed? Even though Marguerite de Navarre, -lavish in her gratitude, had already showered honours and wealth upon -the man who had served her so faithfully. - -'Monseigneur le Prince de Froidmont,' she had said to him with solemn -earnestness, on the day when first she had realized how completely he -had worked out her own schemes; 'the lands of Froide Monte, which are -some of the richest in Acquitaine, were a part of my dowry when I -married. They are yours now, as they once were the property of your -forebears. They are yours, with their forests, their streams and -their castles. Take them as a poor token of my lifelong gratitude.' -And when Gilles demurred, half-indifferent even to so princely a -gift, she added with her habitual impatience: 'Pardieu, Messire, why -should you be too proud to accept a gift from me, seeing that I was -not too proud to ask so signal a service of you?' - -Even so, that gift--so graciously offered, so welcome to the man's -pride of ancestry--had but little value in his sight, since he could -not do with it the one thing that mattered, which was to lay it at -Jacqueline's feet. - -'Do not look so morose, Messire,' Marguerite de Navarre said -teasingly. 'I vow that you have left your heart captive in Cambray.' -Then as Gilles, after this straight hit, remained silent and -absorbed, she added gaily: 'Have no fear, Messire! When _Monsieur_ -is Lord of the Netherlands, he will force the lady of your choice -into granting you her favours. Remember!' she said more seriously, -'that the Prince de Froidmont can now aspire to the hand of the -richest and most exalted lady in the land.' - -'Monseigneur is still far from being Lord of the Netherlands,' Gilles -said dryly, chiefly with a view to inducing a fresh train of thought -in the royal lady's mind. - -Marguerite shrugged her pretty shoulders. - -'He still procrastinates,' she admitted. 'He should be at La Fère by -now, with five thousand troops. Everything was ready when I left -Paris.' - -'He has found something else to distract him,' rejoined Gilles, with -unconscious bitterness. 'Perhaps Mme. de Marquette has resumed her -sway over him, the while Cambray waits and starves.' - -'Chien sabe?' allowed Madame la Reyne with an impatient sigh. - - -II - -The while Cambray waits and starves! That was indeed the deathly -sting which poisoned Gilles de Crohin's very life during those four -dreary months, while _Monsieur_ Duc d'Anjou was ostensibly making -preparations for his expedition for the relief of the beleaguered -city. Ostensibly in truth, for very soon his fond sister had to -realize that, now as always, that fickle brother of hers was playing -his favourite game of procrastination and faithlessness. With him, -in fact, faithlessness had become an obsession. It seemed as if he -could not act or think straight, as if he could not keep his word. -Now, while he was supposed to recruit his troops, to consult with his -officers, to provide for engines and munitions of war, he actually -deputed his long-suffering and still faithful friend, Gilles de -Crohin, to do the work for him. His own thoughts had once more -turned to a possible marriage--not with Jacqueline de Broyart, to -whom he was bound by every conceivable tie of honour and of -loyalty--but with Elizabeth of England, whom he coveted because of -her wealth, and the power which so brilliant an alliance would place -in his hands. - -But of these thoughts he did not dare to speak even to the adoring -sister, who most certainly would have turned her back on him for ever -had she known that he harboured such dishonourable projects. He did -not dare to speak of them even to Gilles, for he felt that this would -strain his friend's loyalty to breaking point. He entered outwardly -into the spirit of the proposed expedition with all the zest which he -could muster, but the moment he was no longer under Marguerite de -Navarre's own eyes he did not lift another finger in its organization. - -'Turenne and la Voute are quite capable of going to the relief of -Cambray without me,' he said to Gilles with a yawn and a lazy stretch -of his long, loose limbs. 'I have never been counted a good -commander, and Parma is always a difficult problem to tackle. Let -Turenne go, I say. My brother Henri lauds him as the greatest -general of the day, and the rogue hath fought on the Spanish side -before now, so he hath all their tricks at his fingers' ends.' - -_Monsieur_ was in Paris then, and Marguerite de Navarre, wellnigh -distraught, had entreated Gilles to stir him into immediate activity. - -'Cambray will fall before that indolent brother of mine gets there, -Messire,' she had pleaded, with tears of impotent anger in her eyes. - -Gilles had gone. He needed no goad even for so distasteful a task. -'Cambray might fall!' The thought drove him into a fever, from which -he could find no solace save in breathless activity. He found -_Monsieur_ in his Palace in Paris, surrounded by the usual crowd of -effeminate youngsters and idle women, decked out in new-fangled, -impossible clothes, the creations of his own fancy, indolent, -vicious, incorrigible. Just now, when Gilles had come to speak to -him of matters that meant life or death, honour or shame, the future -welfare or downfall of a nation, he was lounging in a huge armchair, -his feet resting on a pile of cushions. He was wearing one of his -favourite satin suits, with slashed doublet all covered with tags and -ribbons; he had gold earrings in his ears and was nursing a litter of -tiny hairless puppies, whom he was teasing with the elaborate -insignia of the Order of the Holy Ghost, wrought in gold and set with -diamonds, which he wore on a blue ribband round his neck. - -Gilles looked down on him with a contempt that was no longer -good-humoured. Cambray was waiting and starving whilst this -miserable coxcomb idled away the hours! Two months had gone by and -practically nothing had been done. There were no troops, no -munitions, no arms; and Cambray was waiting and starving! God alone -knew what miseries were being endured by those valiant burghers over -there, whom Gilles' own voice had so easily rallied once to a -stubborn and heroic defence! God alone knew what his exquisite -Jacqueline was being made to suffer! At the thought, his very soul -writhed in torment. He could have raised his hands in measureless -anger against that effeminate nincompoop, and crushed the last spark -of a profligate and useless life out of him. As it was, he had to -entreat, to argue, almost to kneel, pleading the cause of Cambray and -of his proud Jacqueline--his perfect and unapproachable lily, whom -this miserable rag of manhood was casting aside and spurning with a -careless wave of the hand. - -Ye gods! That he, of all men, should have been assigned such a rôle! -That Fate should have destined him to plead for the very honour and -safety of the woman whom he worshipped, with a man whom he despised! -And yet he argued and he entreated because Madame la Reyne herself -vowed that no one could keep her brother in the path of integrity -now, except his friend Gilles de Crohin. She had begged him not to -leave Monsieur, not for a day, not if possible for an hour! - -'He will give us the slip again,' she begged most earnestly; 'and be -off to England after his wild-goose chase. Elizabeth will never -marry him--never! And we shall remain before the world, uselessly -discredited and shamed.' - -Alas! much precious time had in the meanwhile been lost. News had -come through that the Duke of Parma had given up the thought of -taking Cambray by storm and had left del Fuente in temporary command -with orders to reduce her by starvation. - -But this was two months ago. - -Marguerite de Navarre, wearied to death, harassed by _Monsieur's_ -inactivity, obstructed by the King of France, was on the verge of -despair. Cambray, according to the most haphazard calculations, must -be on the point of surrender. - - -III - -Early in July, _Monsieur_, stung into a semblance of activity by -perpetual nagging from his sister and constant goading from Gilles, -did send M. de Turenne with an insufficient force, ill-equipped and -ill-found, to effect a surprise attack against the Spanish army. - -We know how signally that failed. The blame naturally was lavishly -distributed. M. de Turenne, ignorant of his ground, had, it was -averred, employed guides who led him astray. Spies and traitors -amongst his troops were also supposed to have got wind of his plans -and to have betrayed them to the Spanish commander. Certain it is -that Turenne's small force was surprised, cut up, Turenne himself -taken prisoner and that la Voute, his second, only escaped a like -fate by disguising himself as a woman and running with the best of -them back to La Fère. - -The blow had fallen, sudden, swift and terrible. When the news was -brought to Marguerite of Navarre she was seized with so awful an -attack of choler, that she fell into unconsciousness and had to take -to her bed. - -She sent for Gilles, who was eating out his heart in Paris, playing -the watch-dog over a dissolute Prince. At her command he proceeded -at once to La Fère. - -'All is not lost, Messire,' she said to him, as soon as his calm, -trust-inspiring presence had infused some semblance of hope into her -heart. 'But we must not allow _Monsieur_ to exert himself any more -in the matter. His incapacity alone matches his indolence.' - -She felt so ashamed and so humiliated, that Gilles wellnigh forgot -the grudge, which he really owed her for that pitiable adventure into -which she had thrust him, and which was even now ending in disaster. - -'My spirit is wellnigh broken,' she continued, with pathetic -self-depreciation. 'If only, out of all this misery, we could save -one shred of our honour!' - -'Will your Majesty let me try?' Gilles said simply. - -'What do you mean?' she riposted. - -'Let me gather an army together. Let me do battle against the Duke -of Parma. Monseigneur hath proved himself unwilling. We court -disaster by allowing him thus to fritter away both time and men. It -was Turenne yesterday; it will be Condé to-morrow, or Montmorency or -Bussy--anybody, any unfortunate or incompetent who is willing to -serve him! In God's name, Madame la Reyne,' urged Gilles, with a -tone of bitter reproach, 'do not let us procrastinate any longer! -Cambray is in her death-agony. Let _me_ go to her aid!' - -She made a final, half-hearted protest. - -'No! No!' she said. 'You cannot, must not leave your post. If you -do not keep watch over _Monsieur_, we shall lose him altogether.' - -'Better that,' he retorted grimly, 'than that we should lose Cambray.' - -'There you are right, Messire. Cambray now is bound up with our -honour.' - -She had become like a child--so different to her former self-assured, -almost arrogant self. Gilles, whose firm purpose gave him the -strength, had little ado to mould her to his will. She had become -malleable, yielding, humble in her helplessness. Marguerite de -Navarre was actually ready to listen to advice, to let another think -for her and scheme. She accepted counsel with a blindness and -submissiveness which were truly pathetic. And Gilles--with the -vision before him of Jacqueline enduring all the horrors of a -protracted siege--was experiencing a semblance of happiness at -thought that at last he would have the power of working for her. So -he set to with a will, to make the harassed Queen see eye to eye with -him, to make her enter into his ideas and his plans. - -'Your Majesty,' he said, 'has offered me the richest lands in -Aquitaine. I entreat you to take them back and to give me their -worth in money, and I'll gather together an army that will know how -to fight. Then, when we are sure of victory, _Monsieur_ can come and -himself take command. But in the meanwhile, we will beat the Duke of -Parma and relieve Cambray. This I swear to you by the living God!' - -Marguerite was soon swept off her feet by his determination and his -enthusiasm. With naïve surrender, she laid down her burden and left -Gilles to shoulder it. Now at last he could work for his Jacqueline! -He could fight for her, die for her when the time came! He could -drive the foe from her gates and bequeath to her, ere he fell, the -freedom of the country she loved so well. - -Night and day he toiled, not only with heart and will but with the -frenzy of despair; while Marguerite, ever hopeful, ever deluded where -that contemptible brother of hers was concerned, flew to Paris to -keep a watch over him, then back to La Fère to concert with -Gilles--hoping against hope that all would still be well, ready to -forgive Monsieur even for the seventy times seventh time, confident -that she would still see him entering Cambray and marching thence -from city to city, the chosen Lord of the Netherlands, more puissant -than any King. - - -IV - -On the last day of July, Gilles de Crohin had his forces ready, -equipped, armed, provisioned, at La Fère, where Marguerite de Navarre -came herself in order to wish him and the expedition God speed. - -But _Monsieur_--who had promised, nay sworn, he would come too, in -order to take command in person at the last, when victory was -assured--_Monsieur_ had not arrived. - -For two sennights the devoted sister and the faithful friend waited -for him; but he did not come. Marguerite sent courier upon courier -after him to Paris, but he evaded them all, and at one time nobody -knew where he had hidden himself. To his other vices and failings, -this descendant of a once noble race had added the supreme act of a -coward. What that final weary waiting meant for Gilles, not even a -veracious chronicler can describe. With Cambray almost in sight, -with the Spanish armies not two leagues away, with his Jacqueline -enduring every horror and every misery which the aching heart of an -absent lover can conjure up before his tortured mind, he was forced -to remain in idleness, eating out his heart in regret, remorse and -longing, doubtful as to what the future might bring, tortured even -with the fear that, mayhap, in Cambray only a flower-covered mound of -earth would mark the spot where his Jacqueline slept the last sleep -of eternal rest. - -Then at last, upon the fourteenth day of August, a letter came by -runner from _Monsieur_, for the Queen of Navarre. It had been -written in Paris more than a week ago, and obviously had been -purposely delayed. It began with many protestations of good-will, of -love for his sister and of confidence in his friend. Then the letter -went on in a kind of peevish strain: - - - - 'I am quite convinced, My dear sister, that I am altogether unfit - for the kind of attack which the present Situation demands. Now - Gilles has a great deal more Energy than I have, and a great deal - more Knowledge. As you know, I never had any longing for - military Glory, and feel absolutely no desire to make a State - Entry into Cambray with a swarm of starved or diseased Flemings - hanging to my stirrup-leathers. Let Gilles to all that. He - seems to have had a liking for that unsavoury Crowd. Then, by - and by, if the Spaniards, in the meanwhile, do not frustrate his - Designs by giving him a beating, I shall be ready to take up once - more the negotiations for my proposed Sovereignty of the - Netherlands. But understand, My dear Sister, that this happy - Event must come to pass without the co-operation of a Flemish - bride. Frankly, I have no liking for the Race, and would be - jeopardising My whole Future, by selling Myself to the first - Dutch wench that an untoward Fate would throw in My way. Entre - nous, Elizabeth of England has not been so haughty with Me of - late. Get Me that Kingdom of the Netherlands by all means, My - dear. I verily believe that this accrued Dignity would ensure - the favourable Acceptance of My suit by the English Queen.' - - -Marguerite had never made any secret before Gilles of her brother's -perfidy. Even this infamous letter she placed loyally before him -now. When he had finished reading it and she saw the look of -measureless contempt which flashed through his eyes, she could have -cried with shame and misery. - -'What to do, Messire?' she exclaimed piteously. 'Oh, my God! what to -do?' - -'Relieve Cambray first and foremost, Madame,' he replied firmly. -'After that, we shall see.' - -'But the Flemish lords!' she rejoined. 'Their anger! Their -contempt! I could not bear it, Messire! The shame of it all will -kill me!' - -'It has got to be borne, Madame! Cambray has suffered enough. It is -our turn now.' - -Nor would he discuss the matter any further, even with her. The -expedition had been entrusted to his hands, and nothing would delay -him now. Cambray was waiting and starving, every hour might mean her -final surrender. The Spanish commander--apprised of _Monsieur_ le -Duc d'Anjou's arrival with a strong force--had already offered -battle. Gilles was only too eager to accept the issue. - -On the fifteenth day of August, 1581, that battle was fought on the -plains outside Cambray. The issue was never in doubt for one moment. -Le Carpentier asserts that the Duke of Parma, after six hours' -stubborn fighting, surrendered his position and all his forts and -retired in great haste in the direction of Valenciennes. - - - - -CHAPTER XXVII - -AND THIS IS THE END OF MY STORY - - -I - -And into the silent desolation of Cambray's deserted streets, there -penetrated once again the sounds of that life which was teeming -outside her walls. From the north and the south, from the east and -the west, rumour, like a wily sprite, flew over the crumbling walls -and murmured into ears that scarcely heard, that the promise given -long ago was being redeemed at last. Anxiety, sorrow and suffering -were coming to an end, so the elf averred. The hero who fought and -conquered once, had returned to conquer again. - -Whereupon, those who had enough strength left in them to drag -themselves along, found their way to the ramparts, from whence they -could watch the approach of the man who would bring them liberty if -he succeeded, or bequeath them an heroic death if he failed. There -was no other issue possible. The sands of Cambray's endurance had -run down; she had no more resistance left in her, scarcely the power -to suffer any longer. If the relieving army failed to-day, the -setting sun would see the Spanish soldiery, drunk with victory, -swarming over the lonely streets, destroying all that famine and -disease had left whole, all that a dying population had no longer the -strength to defend. - -Little could be seen of what went on in the distant plain, and hollow -eyes, wearied with weeping and anxiety, scanned in vain the horizon -far away. But those who had come to watch remained to pray, while -their minds, rendered super-sensitive by bodily want, conjured up -visions of that grim fight which was going on beyond their range of -vision. - -The history of this heroic people has no more poignant page than that -which tells of this long watch by a crowd of miserable, half-starved -people, the while, out there upon the plain, brave men fought and -died for their sake. - -Not only for their sake, but for the honour of France. - - -II - -Once more the roar of artillery and of musketry fills the air with -its awe-inspiring sound. It is early morning, and the sky heavily -overcast. To the anxious watchers, that grim struggle out there is -only a dimly-perceived confusion, a medley of sights and sounds, a -clash of arms, the dull thunder of culverines and sharp report of -musketry. And, as the grey light of day begins to pick out with -crude precision the more distant objects, a kaleidoscope of colour -vies in brilliancy with the flash of steel, and tears asunder the -drab mist which lies upon the bosom of the plain. - -The yellow and red of the Spaniards becomes easily distinguishable, -then the white and blue and gold of the French, the green of the -arquebusiers, the black of the archers, and even that tiny moving -speck, more brilliant even than the gleam of metal, the white banner -of France, sown with her Fleur de Lys. - -But the watchers up on the ramparts vainly strain their hollow eyes -to see the man who has come to save Cambray. They can only guess -that he is there, where the fight is fiercest, where death stands -most grim and most relentless. They have a knowledge of his presence -keener than sight can give, and though voices at this hour are spent -and hoarse with pain, yet to every roar of cannon, to every volley of -musketry, there comes, like an answering murmur, the triumphant call, -which now sounds like a prayer and which their hero taught them four -months ago: 'Fleur de Lys and Liberty!' - -The French lancers and halberdiers rush the Spanish forts. The -arquebusiers are fighting foot by foot; the musketeers and archers -stand firm--a living wall, which deals death and remains unmoved, -despite furious onslaughts from a foe who appears to be desperate. -The plain around is already strewn with dead. - -The French have fought valiantly for close on six hours, have -repelled nine assaults against their positions, and now, at one hour -after noon, they still stand or crouch or kneel on one knee, crossbow -in hand or musket, they fire, fall out, reform and fire again. -Shaken, battered, decimated, they still shoot with coolness and -precision, under the eye of one who never tires. Their ranks are -still unbroken, but the Spaniards are giving ground at last. - -'This time we are undone!' Parma cries in the excess of his rage. - -He himself has been twice wounded; four of his young officers have -been killed. The French musketeers, the finest the world has ever -seen, work relentlessly upon his finest positions. And he -feels--this great captain, who hitherto hath not known defeat--he -feels that now at last he has met his match. Not a great leader like -himself, perhaps, not the victorious general in an hundred fights; -but a man whose stubbornness and daring, whose blind disregard of -danger and sublime defiance of evil fortune, gives strength to the -weakest and valour to the least bold. - -'I thought you had rid me once of that pestilential rebel!' he -exclaims to de Landas, pointing to where Gilles de Crohin's tall -figure towers above the pressing mass of Spanish halberdiers. - -De Landas murmurs an imprecation, crosses himself in an access of -superstitious fear. - -'My God!' he says under his breath. 'He hath risen from the dead!' - -In truth, Gilles appears endowed at this hour with superhuman -strength. His doublet and jerkin are torn, his breastplate riddled -with arrow-shot, he bleeds profusely from the hand, his face is -unrecognizable under a coating of smoke and grime. Enthusiasm and -obstinacy have given him the power of giants; his hatred of the foe -is supreme; his contempt of death sublime. De Landas sees in him the -incarnation of his own retributive destiny. 'Oh, that God's thunder -would smite him where he stands!' he mutters fervently. - -''Tis too late now,' retorts Parma, with ferocious spite. 'Too late -to call to God to help you. You should have bargained with the devil -four months ago, when you missed your aim. Risen from the dead, -forsooth!' he adds, purple with fury. 'Very much alive now, meseems, -and with the strength of Satan in his arm.' - -He strikes at de Landas with his sword, would have killed him with -his own hand, so enraged is he with the man for his failure to murder -an enemy whom he loathes and fears. - -'Unless those cowards rally,' he calls savagely, and points to where, -in the heart of the _mêlée_, confusion and disorder wield their -grisly sceptres, 'we shall have to retreat.' - -But de Landas does not stop to hear. The fear of the supernatural -which had for the moment paralysed his thinking faculties, is soon -merged in that boundless hatred which he feels for the rival whom he -had thought dead long ago. In the heart of that confusion he has -spied Gilles, fighting, pursuing; slashing, hitting--intrepid and -superb, the centre and the life of the victorious army. De Landas -sets spurs to his horse and, calling to his own troop of swordsmen to -follow, dashes into the _mêlée_. - -The battle now is at its fiercest. A proud army, superior in -numbers, in arms, in knowledge, feels itself weakening before an -enemy whose greatest power is his valour. The retreat has not yet -sounded, but the Spanish captains all know that the humiliating end -is in sight. Already their pikemen have thrown down their cumbersome -weapons. Pursued by the French lancers, they turn and fight with -hands and fists, some of them; whilst others scatter in every -direction. The ranks of their archers are broken, and the fire of -their musketeers has become intermittent and weak. Even the -horsemen, the flower of Parma's army, gentlemen all, are breaking in -the centre. With reins loose, stirrup-leathers flapping, swords cast -away and mantles flying loose, they are making a stand which is -obviously the last, and which within the next few minutes will with -equal certainty turn into rout. - -Here it is that Gilles is holding his own with a small troop of -French horsemen. His steel bonnet has been knocked off, his wounded -arm roughly bandaged, the sleeves of his jerkin fly behind him like a -pair of wings, his invincible sword strikes and flashes and gleams in -the grey afternoon light. - -For a few seconds, while the distance between himself and his enemy -grows rapidly less, de Landas sees and hears nothing. The blood is -beating in his temples, with a weird thumping which drowns the din of -battle. His eyes are blinded by a crimson veil; his hand, stiff and -convulsed, can scarcely grasp the pistol. The next instant he is in -the very thick of the turmoil. - -'For Spain and Our Lady!' he cries, and empties his pistol into the -seething mass of Spanish horsemen who bar the way twixt him and his -enemy. The horsemen are scattered. Already on the verge of a -stampede, they are scared by this unexpected onslaught from the rear. -They fear to be taken between cross-fires, are seized with panic, -turn and flee to right and left. Two of them fall, hit by that -madman's pistol. All is now tumult and a whirling ferment. The air -is thick with smoke and powder, horses, maddened with terror, snort -and struggle and beat the air with their hoofs. De Landas' own troop -join in the _mêlée_; the French horsemen dash in pursuit; there is a -scrimmage, a stampede; men fight and tear and hit and slash, for dear -life and for safety. - -But de Landas does not care, is past caring now. Another disaster -more or less, another scare, final humiliation, what matters? The -day is lost anyhow, and all his own hopes finally dashed to the -ground by the relief of Cambray and the irrevocable loss to him of -Jacqueline and her fortune. Already he has thrown aside his smoking -pistol, seized another from the hand of his nearest follower, and -points it straight at Gilles. - -'For Spain and Our Lady!' - -'Fleur de Lys and Liberty!' - -The two cries rang out simultaneously--then the report of de Landas' -pistol, and Gilles' horse hit in the neck, suddenly swerves, rears -and paws the air, and would have thrown its rider had not the latter -jumped clean out of the saddle. - -To de Landas' maddened gaze the smoke around appears to be the colour -of blood. Blindly he gropes for another pistol. His henchman is -near him, thrusts a weapon into the young Spaniard's trembling hand. -For the fraction of a second, destiny, waiting, stays her hand. -Gilles is free of his struggling horse, he has his sword in his hand; -but de Landas once more points a pistol straight at him. - -'Satan! guide thou my hand this time!' he calls out, in a passion of -fury. - -Then suddenly a raucous cry rises above the din; there is a double, -sharp report, a loud curse, a final groan of despair and of rage, and -de Landas, struck in the breast by an almost savage blow from a -lance, throws up his arms, falls, first on his knees, then backwards -on the soft earth, would have been buried then and there under a -seething mass of struggling men and beasts, had not Gilles rushed to -him with one bound, caught him by the shoulders and dragged his now -lifeless body to comparative shelter a few paces away. Now Gilles -picks up a fallen cloak from the ground and lays it reverently over -his fallen foe. - -'Because Jacqueline loved you once,' he murmurs under his breath. - -Then he turns to his faithful Jehan. 'You were just in time,' he -says simply. - -Jehan has been glancing down with mingled rage and contempt on the -man whom in his loyal heart he hated in life with a wellnigh -ferocious intensity. Now he looks at his master--his friend whom he -loves--sees him on one knee by the side of that abominable murderer, -trying to struggle back to his feet, but evidently weak and dizzy. - -With a cry like an enraged tiger, Jehan casts his still streaming -lance away, is already kneeling beside Gilles, supporting him in his -arms as gently as a mother would shelter her child. - -'H-h-h-hurt?' he stammers laconically. 'That d-d-d-devil hit you?' - -'Only in the thigh,' replies Gilles. 'You diverted his aim right -enough, my dear Jehan! And once more I owe my life to you. Just -help me to get up,' he adds with his wonted impatience. 'Do not let -me miss another second of the glorious spectacle of our victory!' - - -III - -Out in the western sky, a vivid band of blue and gold breaks the -bosom of the clouds. The afternoon sun illumines with its glowing -rays the final rout of the Spanish army. Le Carpentier's laconic -words tell us more than any lengthy chronicle could do. - -'The Duke of Parma,' he says curtly, 'abandoned his forts and retired -in haste to Valenciennes.' - -So much that was mighty and great and invincible has succumbed before -the power which comes from a sense of justice, from valour and -enthusiasm and the decrees of God. God has decided that Cambray has -suffered enough; He has broken the might of Parma and set an end to -the miseries of an heroic people. And when, like a tidal wave of -steel, the Spanish troops begin to oscillate toward the north, where -lies Valenciennes and safety, up on the ramparts of Cambray hundreds -of men and women and children fall on their knees, and thank God with -fervour for their freedom and for victory. - -They are too weak to shout, too weak even to raise their arms. The -pikemen lean upon their arms, the musketeers upon their muskets, the -gunners lie half-exhausted upon their culverines. Of the twenty-five -thousand citizens of Cambray, scarce fifteen thousand have remained -to bid the returning hero welcome. - -Up in the fort of Cantimpré, the city guard--what is left of it--wait -for the entry of the victorious army. The bridge is lowered, the men -stand as if on parade. The city fathers are there too, and amongst -them stands Monseigneur the governor. - -Gaunt and careworn they all look. Their ranks too have been rudely -thinned. Monseigneur's hair is now snow-white; the hand with which -he leans upon a stick is emaciated almost to the bone. His other arm -rests on that of Jacqueline de Broyart, whose pale, wan face hath a -curious air of mystery and of detachment. - -'Here they come!' Monseigneur says at last, as on the horizon far -away a glowing speck begins to move, to gather shape as it draws -nearer, catching, reflecting and throwing back the roseate flashes of -the setting sun. - -The whole city now is watching; her very soul is in the eyes of her -expectant children. A curious, nervous thrill has taken the place of -bodily exhaustion. Only Jacqueline stands quite silent and -impassive. Boundless gratitude fills her heart for the deliverance -of the city; but the overwhelming joy which she feels is drowned in -the immensity of her sorrow. For her, in truth, life is gone, -happiness lies buried beneath the city walls. She can rejoice at the -coming of the man whom the people believe to be their hero, but for -her he is the stranger. The real defender of Cambray--her brave and -spotless knight--gave his precious life for her city all these weary -months ago. - -People crowd more insistently round her. The speck on the horizon -has become a moving multitude. Steel and gold flash in the evening -light, banners wave in the gentle, summer breeze. The French army, -glorious after victory, wends its way to the city which it has saved. - -In the forefront march the halberdiers, with their blue hose and -huge, unwieldy trunks, small bonnets on their heads and a cloak about -their shoulders. Then the pikemen, in striped doublets, their -enormous hats slung behind their backs, and the musketeers with tall -boots which reach half-way up their thighs. Immediately behind them -comes a long train of carts and waggons--the provisions collected -together for the starving city. The Master of the Camp is in charge -of these. He is mounted on a black charger, surrounded by his staff. -The ends of his blue silk scarf are smothered in dust, as are his -boots and his plumed hat. Some way behind the waggons, the archers -come, marching three abreast, and then the foot-soldiers, with huge -steel gauntlets covering their hands, their heavy lances borne upon -their shoulders. - -Nearer and nearer the procession comes, and as it approaches, a -strange exultation born of weakness and of fever, rises in the hearts -of the watchers. It seems as if an unendurable weight were lifted -from their shoulders, as if they themselves had in a mysterious -manner been dead for weeks and months, and now had risen again in -order to gaze into the setting sun, from whence their liberator had -come to them again. - -The streets are no longer deserted now. Furtive forms, gaunt and -haggard, stand under doorways or congregate upon the open places. -Women in ragged kirtles with children clinging to their skirts, sick -and maimed and halt from disease and want, crawl out of the squalid -houses to watch the entry of the French troops. Many, at sight of -those brave men all covered with smoke and powder and dust, fall down -on their knees and a long-forgotten prayer rises to their lips. - -Anon down the Bapaume road it is quite easy to perceive the white -banner sown with the gold Fleur de Lys. It is borne by a herald who -sits upon a cream charger, and immediately behind him a man rides -alone. He is hatless; but he holds his head erect and looks straight -out towards the city. He has the reins of his horse in one hand, the -other is hidden under his cloak. Some little way behind him ride a -number of cavaliers in brilliant multi-coloured doublets and hose, -with drawn swords in their hands, which flash and gleam in the -setting sun. They are still close on half a league away, but adown -the long, flat road Monseigneur's keen eyes have already perceived -them. - -'It is His Highness the Duc d'Anjou!' he exclaims. - -But, with a strange instinct which has for ever remained -inexplicable, Messire de Balagny retorts: - -'It is the saviour of Cambray!' - -And while he goes at once to transmit the governor's orders that all -the church bells in the city shall at once begin to ring, Jacqueline -de Broyart's gaze is fixed upon the road which lies like a winding -ribbon down below, stretching as far as the glowing horizon far away. -The sky is suffused with a joy-blush of crimson and orange and gold, -the sinking sun illumines with a roseate hue that distant group of -cavaliers, in the forefront of whom rides the defender of Cambray. - -After the turmoil of battle, an immense silence reigns over the bosom -of the plain. Even the tramp of thousands of men, the clatter of -horses' hoofs and of arms, seem like an integral part of that great -and solemn silence, which has its birth in the stricken city. The -victorious army has entered Cambray, not with music and with -cheering, not with shouts of joy. Joy is in every heart, but an -abundance of sorrow has stilled its outward expression. The plain -itself is strewn with dead and wounded; hundreds of valiant lives -have been freely given for the deliverance of Cambray. Those that -remain--some five thousand of them--cross the bridge at the foot of -Cantimpré, marching three abreast. It takes an hour for the first -portion of the victorious army to enter the city. The service men -bring provision waggons in plenty, together with news that more will -follow as quickly as may be. By nightfall there would not be one -hungry mouth left in Cambray. - -Relief, content, the shadow of happiness, are too poignant to find -expression in words--perhaps they have come just a little too late. -But gratitude is immense. Soon the streets of Cambray are encumbered -with train and equipment, with carts and waggons and barrows, horses -loosely tethered, litters of straw for the wounded and the ailing. -The distribution of the food is the most pressing need. Everywhere -men in faded, ragged clothing, with gaunt faces and hollow eyes, -hurry to the Grand' Place and to the Marche aux Bois, where the food -waggons are set up under the eye of the Master of the Camp. - -A pathetic procession of eager, half-starved shadows--women and -children too--with the humble, deprecating air of the desperately -indigent, crowd around the waggons. Fifteen thousand mouths gaping -for food. There is only a very little for everybody at first. More -will come to-night. More again to-morrow. France, who has saved, -will also provide. Of order there is none. People push and scamper -as the hungry are wont to do, but all are too feeble to do one -another much harm. The soldiers, flushed with victory, are patient -and good-natured. My God! the very aspect of the streets is enough -to make any staunch heart quake with horror! Some of the men have -wife and family in far-off Artois or Provence. They can hardly -restrain their tears as wee, grimy hands, thin to the bone, are -stretched out to them in pitiable eagerness. They are as lavish as -they can be, giving up their own supper to feed these unfortunates: -generous now as they were brave out there, when they fought under the -eye of the staunchest man they had ever seen in battle. - -''Tis a fine candle you folk of Cambray owe to Monseigneur de -Froidmont!' the Master of the Camp says to a group of burghers who, -self-restrained and stoical, are giving help in the distribution, -waiting till all the poor and the ignorant are fed before they -themselves receive their share. - -'Monseigneur de Froidmont?' one of them exclaims. 'Why, who is he?' - -'Who is he?' retorts the Master of the Camp. 'Nay, by the Mass! He -is above all the most doughty knight who hath ever wielded a sword. -He it is who has saved your city for you, my friends. If the Spanish -soldiery is not inside your walls this night, 'tis to him that ye owe -it, remember!' - -Most of the burghers look gravely puzzled. Their spokesman ventures -on the remark: - -'To His Highness the Duc d'Anjou, surely!' - -The Master of the Camp shrugs his shoulders. - -'That is as it may be,' he says dryly. 'But you might all have -rotted inside your walls but for the valour of Monseigneur de -Froidmont.' - -'But the Duc d'Anjou...' hazards some one timidly. - -'A murrain on the Duc d'Anjou!' breaks in the Master of the Camp -good-humouredly. ''Tis of the defender of your city you should think -at this hour. Ah!' he exclaims, with a sigh of satisfaction, ''tis -good to hear that your city fathers at the least are giving him a -rousing welcome!' - -He himself sets up a cheer, which is taken up by his soldiers; for -just then the bells of Notre Dame have begun their joyous peal. Soon -Ste. Croix follows suit and St. Géry from the heights toward the -north. Peal after peal resounds, till the whole air vibrates with -that most inspiriting sound, chasing away with its melody the very -shadow of silence and desolation. - -The last rays of the sun have now sunk in the west. Twilight is -slowly fading into dusk. Out beyond Cantimpré, the herald upon his -charger has halted at the foot of the bridge, the white banner of -France, gay with its golden Fleur de Lys, is gently stirred by the -evening breeze. The group of cavaliers has halted too, while the -defender of Cambray rides slowly into the city. - - -IV - -Monseigneur the governor awaited the victor in the courtyard of the -citadel. He stood in the midst of his Sheriffs and his Provosts and -the other dignitaries of the city, all of them still dignified and -imposing, despite the faded appearance of their clothes and the -gaunt, hungry look in their wan faces. All around the courtyard was -lined with troops, the mere remnants of the garrison who had fought -so valorously on that never-to-be-forgotten day in April, a little -over four months ago, and of the small body of French troops who had -come to their assistance then. - -Gilles dismounted at the bridge-head, disdaining, despite his wounds, -the aid of his faithful henchman's arm. Only limping very slightly, -the bandage on his hand hidden in the folds of his cloak, he passed -in on foot and alone under the gateway. For the space of one -heart-beat he paused just inside the courtyard, when he saw before -him this large concourse of people who, at his appearance, had slowly -dropped on their knees. They were for the most part faces which had -been familiar to him all those months ago--faces which even now wore -an expression of deference and of awed respect. - -A bitter sigh rose to Gilles' lips. For him, despite the grandeur of -his victory, this was a bitter hour. Within the next few moments -these proud and brave people would have to be told that a prince of -the House of France had proved himself to be both fickle and base. -Messire de Balagny was not there; and at first he did not see -Jacqueline. She had retired into the guard-room at the desire of her -guardians. 'It were seemly,' they had said, 'that we, your -protectors, should first receive His Highness and pay him our -respects. Then he will ask for his future bride, and ours shall be -the honour of bringing you to him!' - -So she was not there for the moment, and Gilles felt freer in her -absence--even caught himself hoping that he would not be put to the -torture of seeing her again. It were best for him and best for her -that she should not hear that awful confession from his lips, that a -Valois prince had broken his word to her, and in his wanton infamy -had repudiated the perfect gift of God which had been offered to him. - -'Do not tarry one moment, Messire,' Marguerite de Navarre had -entreated of him at the last. 'Take advantage of the moment of -boundless relief and gratitude when your victorious troops enter -Cambray to release _Monsieur_ of his promise to wed the Flemish -heiress. Do not enter the city till you have made it clear to the -Flemish lords that the Duc d'Anjou will accept the Sovereignty of the -Netherlands, and in exchange will give the support of France, of her -wealth and of her armies; but that he will not enter into personal -alliance with one of his future subjects.' - -So now, when at Gilles' approach the governor and the city fathers -all bent the knee before him, he said at once, directly and simply: - -'I entreat you, Messeigneurs, not to kneel to me. That honour -belongs by right only to the puissant Prince whom I represent.' - -'Your Highness----' began d'Inchy humbly. - -'I am no Highness, Monseigneur,' he rejoined firmly. 'Only the -servant of the Duc d'Anjou, who will be here as soon as may be, to -claim from you that gratitude which you owe to him and not to me.' - -D'Inchy and the others did not move. Their limbs were paralysed, -their lips dumb. Their ears refused to convey to their over-tired -brains that which they had just heard. It all seemed like a dream; -the gathering dusk made everything appear unreal--the ringing of the -joy-bells, the far-away crowd of soldiers and cavaliers, who filled -the very air with clatter and jingle of spurs and accoutrements, with -creaking of waggons, snorting of horses and snatches of songs and -laughter. And in the centre of the courtyard, this tall figure of a -man, with the tattered doublet and the bleeding hand, and the voice -which seemed as if it rose straight out of a glorious grave. - -'Do not look so puzzled, Messeigneurs,' Gilles went on with a smile, -half-sad, wholly good-humoured. 'The Duc d'Anjou will not tarry, my -word on it. He bids me say that he accepts the Sovereignty of the -Netherlands, and will place at the disposal of her people the might -and the armies of France, his own power, wealth and influence.' - -Still as in a dream, d'Inchy and the Sheriffs and the Provosts -staggered to their feet. The mystery, in truth, was greater than -their enfeebled minds could grasp. They were for the most part -chiefly conscious of a great feeling of disappointment. - -Here stood before them, tall and magnificent even beneath rags and -grime, the man whom they revered above all others, the hero whose -personality was enshrined in the very hearts of the people of -Cambray. What the mystery was which clung round him they did not -know, nor did they care: he was the man of their choice, the saviour -of Cambray now, as he had been their defender in the hour of their -gravest peril. The victor of this glorious day was the hero of the -ramparts on that memorable April day, the man who four months ago had -defended them with heart and will and undaunted courage then, and to -whom they owed their freedom, the honour of their wives and daughters -and the future of their race. - -To think of him as other than the Duc d'Anjou, their chosen Sovereign -Lord, the husband of Jacqueline de Broyart, was positive pain. Most -of them even now refused to believe, stared at Gilles as if he were a -wraith set to mock them in their weakness and their dependence. - -'Not the Duc d'Anjou?' the Chief Magistrate murmured. 'Impossible!' - -Gilles could not help but smile at the farcical aspect of his own -tragedy. - -'It is not only possible, Messeigneurs,' he said, 'but is e'en a -positive fact. Messire de Balagny would soon tell you so: and His -Highness the Duc d'Anjou himself will be here on the morrow to prove -to you that I am but an humble substitute, a representative of His -Graciousness.' - -'But,' stammered d'Inchy, still in a state of complete bewilderment, -'that day in April ... your--you, Monseigneur ... in the Town Hall -... Madame Jacqueline...' - -With a quick gesture, Gilles put up his hand. - -'I entreat you, Monseigneur,' he said earnestly, 'to wait awhile ere -you probe further into His Highness' secrets. For the moment, will -you not be content to rejoice with me at your deliverance? His -Highness accepts from you the Sovereignty of the Netherlands. -To-morrow he will be here, ready to receive the acclamations and the -welcome of his people. He hath proved himself not only ready, but -able, to defend you against all your enemies. He hath this day -gained a signal victory over the powerful armies of the King of -Spain. Henceforth the whole might of France will stand between you -and the relentless foe who threatens your lives and your liberties. -Join me, Messeigneurs,' he concluded earnestly, 'in acclaiming His -Highness the Duc d'Anjou et d'Alençon, prince of the House of France, -as your Sovereign Lord!' - -His inspiring words were received in silence. Not one voice was -raised in response to his loyal call. Gilles frowned, feeling that -the supreme hour had come. A moment or two longer, and the -inevitable question would be put 'And what of Madame Jacqueline, -Monseigneur? What of the lady whom His Highness has sworn to wed?' - -Already he had steeled himself to give answer, though the answer -could only proclaim dishonour, both for himself and for the Valois -prince whom he was trying so faithfully to serve unto the end. He -saw the frown of puzzlement which gathered on d'Inchy's brow. The -governor, in truth, was the first to recover his presence of mind. -Leaning upon his stick, with back bent, but his whole attitude one of -supreme dignity, he came nearer to Gilles and fixed a stern gaze upon -his face. - -'If you are not the Duc d'Anjou, Monseigneur,' he said slowly, 'will -you tell us who it was who defended Cambray with such indomitable -valour four months ago? Will you tell us who it is that saved -Cambray to-day? For, of a truth, my friends and I are bewildered, -and the mystery before us is one which we cannot fathom. Therefore I -dare ask you once again in all respect--I may say in all affection: -if you are not the Duc d'Anjou, who is it that stands before me now?' - -'The saviour of Cambray!' came in a clear, ringing voice from the -further end of the courtyard. 'My promised Lord and King!' - -The sound of Jacqueline's voice sent a spark of living flame through -those minds, atrophied by all this mystery. All eyes were at once -turned to where she stood, dimly outlined in the gathering gloom. -She was clad in a sombre gown and wore a dark veil over her fair -hair. Her young, girlish figure, free from the hideous trammels of -hoops or farthingale, appeared ethereal against the background of -grim, frowning walls. Only the last lingering grey light in the west -brought into bold relief her pale face and graceful shoulders, smooth -like ivory. Just for a minute or two she stood quite still, like an -exquisitely graven image, rigidly still yet pulsating with life. -Then she advanced slowly towards Gilles. Her eyes held his and he -scarcely dared to breathe, for fear that perfect vision should vanish -into the skies, whence, of a truth, it must have descended. He could -not have uttered a word then, if his very existence had depended on -it. It seemed to him as if his very heart had stopped in its -beating, as if life and time and the whole universe was stilled while -Jacqueline's blue eyes sought his own, and she came, with hands -extended as if in entreaty, to him. - -Was it a minute or a cycle of years! He himself could not tell you. -He saw nothing of what went on around; the city walls had fallen -away, the men in their sombre clothes become mere shadows, the very -sky overhead had receded into the realm of nothingness. - -And through that state of semi-consciousness, her exquisite voice -came to him as from another world. - -'Nay! my dear Lord,' she said, with her enchanting smile, 'you'll not -refuse me the joy of paying something of my country's eternal debt of -gratitude to you.' - -He still stood half-dazed and silent. Then suddenly he took her -hands and slowly bent the knee, and buried his battle-stained face in -her sweet-scented palms. - -It had all occurred within half a dozen seconds. The governor, the -Chief Magistrate, the city fathers, gazed on uncomprehending, silent -and puzzled at what they saw. After awhile, d'Inchy murmured vaguely: - -'Madame Jacqueline ... we ... that is...' - -But quickly now she turned and faced them all, while Gilles still -knelt and rested his hot forehead against her cool white hand. -Through the gloom they could just discern her face, white and serene -and withal defiant and firm, and irradiated with an enormous -happiness. - -'Messeigneurs,' she said with solemn earnestness, 'you heard, two -sennights ago, the profession of faith which I made publicly before -the assembled people of Cambray. There I swore by the living God Who -made me that I would cherish and serve, loyally and faithfully, even -until death, the noble and valorous hero who defended our city in the -hour of her gravest peril. That dauntless hero is before you now. -Once again he has saved our city from destruction, our sisters from -dishonour, our men from shame. To him did I plight my troth, to him -alone will I be true!' - -Then, as all the men around her remained silent, moved to the depth -of their hearts by the sublime note of passion which rang through her -avowal, she continued, and this time with a note of unswerving -defiance and magnificent challenge in her voice: - -'Ask the people of Cambray, Messeigneurs! Let them be the arbiters -of my fate and their own. Ask them to whom they would have me turn -now--to the mighty Prince who would only use me and them and our -valiant race as stepping stones to his own ambition, or to the hero -who has offered his life for us all.' - -A low murmur went round the assembly. Grave heads were shaken, -toil-worn hands were raised to wipe a furtive tear. The evening -gloom descended upon this strange scene, upon the reverend seigneurs -and the stolid soldiers, upon the man who was kneeling and the -woman--a mere girl--who stood there, commanding and defiant, secure -in her love, proud of her surrender, ready to fight for her happiness. - -'Ask the people of Cambray, Messeigneurs,' she reiterated boldly, 'if -you have a doubt!' - -She let her eyes wander slowly over the crowd. One by one, she -looked these grave seigneurs in the face, these men who arrogated the -right to rule over her destiny. They were her friends, had been her -daily companions in the past four months of horror and of misery. -They had trembled with her over Cambray's danger, had wept with her -over Cambray's woes. With her they had acclaimed the hero who had -defended them, had wept when they saw him fall; and to-day, again -to-day, had been ready to deify him as their hero and her knight. - -'Messeigneurs,' she pleaded, 'ask the people of Cambray.' - -She knew what would be the people's answer. Now that the hour of -their liberty had struck, now that the Spaniard no longer thundered -at their gates, they were ready to carry their Liberator -shoulder-high and give him the universe in their gratitude, if they -had it to give. What cared they if their Liberator was a Duc d'Anjou -or a nameless knight? He was the man whom they worshipped, the man -who had made them free. - -And now, when she still saw doubt, hesitation, embarrassment, upon -the face of all these grave dignitaries, she frowned with wounded -pride and with impatience. - -'Messeigneurs,' she said boldly, 'Heaven forgive me, but ye seem to -hesitate! The man to whom you owe your life, your future, the honour -of your name, asks nothing more of your gratitude. But I, who am -privileged to read in his heart, know that it is in my power to repay -him in full for all that he hath done. And yet you hesitate! I am -content to make appeal to the people of Cambray. But I know too what -goes on in your minds. Ye think that ye are pledged to _Monsieur_ -Duc d'Anjou! that Jacqueline de Broyart, if she refuse to wed him, -would sully your honour and, what were infinitely worse, would -besmirch the fair fame of Flanders. Isn't that so, Messeigneurs?' - -Their silence had become eloquent. - -'The honour of Flanders----' Monseigneur began, then paused. A -premonition of something which he could not put into words caused him -to remain silent too, and to let the girl plead her cause without any -interruption from him. - -'The honour of Flanders, as you say, Monseigneur,' Jacqueline went on -firmly, 'demands above all things that you and I and the guardians of -our city do keep our word. Therefore, even before we make appeal to -the people of Cambray, we will ask Monseigneur de Froidmont, who is -here on behalf of His Highness, the Duc d'Anjou, to renew in His -Highness' name the demand of my hand in marriage. On his answer -should depend our future conduct. Is that not so, Messeigneurs?' she -asked once again, and let her calm gaze wander from one solemn face -to the other, search serenely every troubled eye. - -D'Inchy this time realized that he must be the spokesman for all -these representatives, his city and of his province. Vaguely -troubled still by the mystery which surrounded the man to whom -Cambray owed her deliverance, he thought once for all, by a straight -question, to put an end to the many doubts and fears which assailed -him and his friends. Jacqueline already had turned once more to -Gilles; with a slight pressure of her hand she asked him to rise. -This he did, feeling strangely elated, just as if Destiny, tired of -buffeting him, was smiling encouragingly to him from afar. In the -midst of the many confused impressions which had struck his wearied -mind during the past quarter of an hour, one thought stood out with -heavenly clearness: Jacqueline loved him! Her love had neither -faltered nor tired through these weary months. She was as steadfast -and true to him at this hour as she had been when in the -clematis-covered arbour she had lain against his breast. Now her -woman's quick wit had divined the truth and come to the aid of her -love. Even when she challenged those grave seigneurs to ask him the -straight and momentous question, she knew what his answer would be. - -The task which lay before him no longer seemed irksome and -humiliating. He still blushed for the shame which rested on the -fickle Prince whom he served, but already in his heart he had -registered the vow that, God helping as He had done hitherto, the -honour of France should shine forth before these heroic people, in -all its brightness and glory, through the glorious deeds of her sons. - -'Monseigneur,' began d'Inchy tentatively, 'you have heard what Madame -Jacqueline de Broyart hath said. We have all passed through much -sorrow, have witnessed the miseries and the patience of our people. -The hour of victory has come, but found us weak in body and tortured -in mind. We place our faith with complete confidence in the honour -and integrity of France. We are prepared to receive His Highness, -the Duc d'Anjou with open hearts and to acclaim him as our Sovereign -Lord. Will he in exchange keep faith with us, and wed our ward, -Madame Jacqueline de Broyart, to whom he hath akeady plighted his -troth?' - -Even while the governor spoke, the city dignitaries all tried to read -the expression on Gilles' face through the fast-gathering gloom, and -anxious eyes scanned those war-worn features which they had learned -to love. Even through the darkness they could see him, standing -there in his rags and his battered breastplate, hatless and begrimed, -splendid in his valour and his pride, and with Jacqueline's hand held -tightly in his own--splendid still, now that he stood silent and -shamed before them all. - -To Monseigneur's peremptory question he had given no reply, remained -almost motionless, while Jacqueline, proud in the face of the crying -insult which a faithless Prince had put upon her, threw back her head -and gave a deep sigh of content. - -Monseigneur the governor had received his answer in Gilles de -Crohin's obstinate silence. A bitter cry of unbridled anger rose to -his lips, his emaciated hand trembled visibly upon the stick which he -held. - -Then, just as suddenly, his wrath gave way. It almost seemed as if -an angel of reconciliation and of love had whispered into his ear, -and had, with cool and gentle fingers, smoothed away the angry frown -upon his brow. All that was fine and noble in the heroic race from -which he sprang clamoured for the only possible solution of the -present difficulty, a solution which would ensure the happiness of a -brave and proud woman, and the dignity of the country which he -represented. - -One last second of hesitation, one final regretful sigh for the -ambitious personal schemes which he saw crumbling into ashes at his -feet, then Monseigneur d'Inchy, governor of Cambray, sank slowly down -on his knees. - -'Monseigneur,' he said slowly and impressively, 'Madame Jacqueline de -Broyart has spoken and shown us the path of our duty. To-morrow we -will acclaim His Highness the Duc d'Anjou et d'Alençon as our -Sovereign Lord; but to-day we welcome you as the saviour of our city. -Whatever your wishes are, they are a law unto us. You have heard -what Madame Jacqueline has said. Will you in your turn plight your -troth to her? Will you love and cherish her and serve her faithfully -and loyally as her liege lord, until death?' - -'And beyond!' Gilles murmured softly. - -The last streak of grey light was still lingering in the sky. -Everything in the enclosure of the tall, grim walls became mysterious -and shadowy; darkness drew her kindly mantle over the scene. She hid -from prying eyes what went on under the immediate shadow of the great -gate, where for one brief moment Jacqueline lay against her loved -one's heart. - -From the towers of the city's churches the bells were still sending -their happy carillon through the evening air. A group of pikemen -brought torches into the courtyard. A wild shout of delight--the -first which Cambray had heard, for many months--sent its joyous sound -through the evening air. - -And in the homes which all these months of misery had devastated, the -sick and the weary roused themselves for a moment, marvelling what -these shouts of joy might mean. And those who had suffered for so -long and who were now comforted, those who had been hungry and were -now fed, ran into the houses of sickness and of sorrow, in order to -bring the gladsome, the great, the wonderful news. - -'The Duc d'Anjou, brother of the King of France, is to be Sovereign -Lord of the Netherlands. He will enter Cambray to-morrow, with his -great army. He will be proclaimed Protector of the Liberties of -Cambray and Sovereign of the Cambrésis!' - -'And he will wed Madame Jacqueline de Broyart, the great -heiress?--our Jacqueline?' - -'Oh, no! The Duc d'Anjou will be our Sovereign Lord. But Madame -Jacqueline will wed the saviour of Cambray.' - - - -_Printed in Great Britain by_ Butler & Tanner _Frome and London_ - - - - - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FLOWER O' THE LILY *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. Special rules, set forth in the General Terms of Use part -of this license, apply to copying and distributing Project -Gutenberg-tm electronic works to protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm -concept and trademark. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Flower o' the lily</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:1em;'>A romance of old Cambray</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Baroness Emmuska Orczy</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: May 20, 2022 [eBook #68135]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FLOWER O' THE LILY ***</div> - -<h1> -<br /><br /> - <i>Flower o' the Lily</i><br /> -</h1> - -<p class="t2"> - <i>A Romance of Old Cambray</i><br /> -</p> - -<p class="t3b"> - by Baroness Orczy<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> - <i>London Hodder and<br /> - Stoughton and at New<br /> - York and Toronto</i><br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3"> - To<br /> - MY SON<br /> - JOHN MONTAGU ORCZY BARSTOW<br /> - 2nd Lieut. 17th Lancers<br /> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -I dedicate to you this story of the brave days of Old -Cambray, as a token of fervent prayer that the valiant -city will once again be freed from the thrall of foreign -foes by your gallant comrades in arms, as she was in -those far-off troublous times, which were so full of -heroism and of romance. -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -EMMUSKA ORCZY -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -BEARSTED, 1918. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t3b"> -CONTENTS -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -CHAP. -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -I <a href="#chap01">How Messire Gilles de Crohin went for an -Excursion into the Land of Dreams</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -II <a href="#chap02">How a Noble Prince practised the Gentle Art -of Procrastination</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -III <a href="#chap03">How a Clever Woman outwitted an Obstinate Man</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -IV <a href="#chap04">How 'Monsieur' kept his Word</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -V <a href="#chap05">What Marguerite of Navarre did when she heard the News</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -VI <a href="#chap06">What Monseigneur d'Inchy and Messire Gilles -de Crohin Thought of One Another</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -VII <a href="#chap07">Why Madame Jacqueline was so Late in Getting to Bed</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -VIII <a href="#chap08">What Became of the Lilies</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -IX <a href="#chap09">How Messire Gilles was Reminded of a Dream</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -X <a href="#chap10">How the Quarrel Began</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -XI <a href="#chap11">And How it Ended</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -XII <a href="#chap12">How Two Letters came to be Written</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -XIII <a href="#chap13">How Madame Jacqueline was Gravely Puzzled</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -XIV <a href="#chap14">Which Treats of the Discomfiture of M. de Landas</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -XV <a href="#chap15">How M. de Landas Practised the Gentle Art of Treachery</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -XVI <a href="#chap16">What News Maître Jehan brought back with Him</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -XVII <a href="#chap17">How Messire de Landas' Treachery bore Fruit</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -XVIII <a href="#chap18">How a Second Awakening may be more Bitter than the First</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -XIX <a href="#chap19">What Jacqueline was Forced to Hear</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -XX <a href="#chap20">How More than one Plot was Hatched</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -XXI <a href="#chap21">How Some of these Succeeded—</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -XXII <a href="#chap22">While Others Failed</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -XXIII <a href="#chap23">While Traitors are at Work</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -XXIV <a href="#chap24">The Defence of Cambray</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -XXV <a href="#chap25">How Cambray Starved and Endured</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -XXVI <a href="#chap26">What Value a Valois Prince Set upon his Word</a> -</p> - -<p class="noindent"> -XXVII <a href="#chap27">And this is the End of my Story</a> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap01"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER I -<br /><br /> - HOW MESSIRE GILLES DE CROHIN WENT FOR AN<br /> - EXCURSION INTO THE LAND OF DREAMS<br /> -</h3> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -I -</h4> - -<p> -When Gilles de Crohin, Sire de Froidmont, received -that sabre-cut upon his wrist—a cut, by the way, -which had been dealt with such efficacy that it very nearly -severed his left hand from his arm—he swore, so I -understand, both lustily and comprehensively. I have not a -faithful record of what he did say, but from what I know -of Messire, I can indeed affirm that his language on the -occasion was as potent as it was direct and to the point. -</p> - -<p> -As for the weapon which had dealt that same forceful -stroke, its triumph was short-lived. Within the next few -seconds its unconscious career upon this earth was brought -to a sudden and ignominious close: it was broken into -three separate pieces by a blow more vigorous than even -Messire Gilles himself had ever been known to deal. The -hilt went flying sky-high above the heads of the nearest -combatants; part of the blade was ground into the mud -under the heel of Messire's stout leather boot, whilst the -point itself—together with a few more inches of cold -steel—was buried in the breast of that abominable spadassin -who had thought to lay so stalwart an enemy low. -</p> - -<p> -And, mind you, this would have been exceedingly -satisfactory—the life of a rascally Spaniard in exchange for a -half-severed wrist—had not some other rogue of the same -ilk, who happened to be close by, succeeded at that very -instant in delivering a vigorous thrust into the body of -Maître Jehan le Bègue, the faithful friend and companion -of the Sire de Froidmont. Whereupon Gilles, maddened -with rage, slashed and charged upon the enemy with such -lustihood that for an instant the valiant French troops, -which indeed were sore pressed, rallied about him, and the -issue of the conflict hung once more in the balance. But -alas! only for a few moments. The Spaniards, more -numerous and undoubtedly more highly skilled in the -science of arms, soon regained the advantage, and within -a few hours after that, they were driving the Netherlander -and the French helter-skelter before them, having gained -a signal and decisive victory. -</p> - -<p> -This all occurred at Gembloux in Brabant, three and more -years before the events which I am about to put on record -in this veracious chronicle, and at the time when the Sire -de Froidmont and his faithful henchman, Jehan—surnamed -le Bègue because he stuttered and spluttered like a clucking -hen—happened to be fighting in the Netherlands at the -head of a troop of French Protestants who had rushed to -support the brave followers of Orange against the powerful -armies of Alexander Farnese, Duke of Parma; and I use -the word 'happened' advisedly, because in these days -the knights and gentlemen of France—aye, and the marshals -and princes of blood, far finer noblemen and lords than -was the poor Sire de Froidmont—were wont to fight now -on one side, now on the other—now on the Catholic side, -hand-in-hand with the Spaniards; now on the Huguenot, -according if they 'happened' to be in good friendship -with the Queen Mother or with the King's favourite, or -with the Protestant Henry of Navarre. -</p> - -<p> -On this occasion, and despite his broken wrist, Messire -Gilles de Crohin was the very last to lay down his sword -before the victorious Spaniard; nor is the expression 'lay -down his sword' altogether the right one to use, for the -Sire de Froidmont never did lay down his sword either to -the Spaniards or to any other enemy, either then or on any -other occasion. But it seems that, in addition to that -half-severed wrist, he had several and sundry wounds about -his body, and all the while that the victorious Spanish army -pursued the Netherlanders even as far as the territory of -the King of France, Messire Gilles lay as one dead, bleeding, -half-frozen, and only sufficiently conscious to curse his own -fate and the disappearance of Maître Jehan le Bègue, the most -faithful servant and most expert henchman, man ever had. -The trouble, indeed, was that Master Jehan was nowhere -within sight. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -II -</h4> - -<p> -Now it happened that that memorable night of February, -1578, which followed the grim fight in the valley below -Gembloux, was a very dark one. Toward eight or nine -o'clock of the evening, Messire Gilles woke from his state -of unconsciousness by feeling rough and unfriendly hands -wandering about his body. Had I not already told you -that his language was apt to be more forceful than reverent, -I would tell you now that he utilized his first return to -actuality in sitting up suddenly and pouring forth such -a volley of expletives against the miscreants who were -even then trying to divest him of his boots, that, seized -with superstitious fear, these human vultures fled, scattered -and scared, to rally again at some distance from the spot, -in order to resume their nefarious trade with less forcible -interruption. -</p> - -<p> -Messire Gilles listened to their scurrying footsteps for -awhile; then with much difficulty, for he was sorely hurt -and bruised, he struggled to his feet. -</p> - -<p> -The darkness lay upon the plain and wrapped in its -grim pall all the suffering, all the horror which the fiends -of hatred and of fanaticism had brought in the wake of -this bloody combat. Silence absolute reigned in the valley, -save for an occasional sigh, a moan, a cry of pain or a -curse, which rose from the sodden ground up to the sombre -firmament above, as if in protest to the God of battles against -so much misery and so much unnecessary pain. -</p> - -<p> -Gilles—accustomed as he was to all these sounds—shook -himself like a shaggy dog. Though he was comparatively -a young man still, these sounds had rung in his ears ever -since, as a young lad, he had learned how to fight beside -his father's stirrup leathers, and seen his father fall, wounded -and bruised, in much the same plight as he—Gilles himself—was -at this hour. Nor had the night any terrors for -him. The groans of dying men no longer stirred his senses, -and only moved his heart to transient pity. What did -worry Messire Gilles de Crohin, however, was the disappearance -of Maître Jehan. -</p> - -<p> -'So long as those hellish body-snatchers do not get hold -of the poor fool!' he sighed dolefully. -</p> - -<p> -Just then his ear, trained of old to catch the slightest -sound which might bring a ray of hope at moments such as -this, perceived above the groanings and the sighs the -distant tinkle of a bell. -</p> - -<p> -'Now, Gilles, my friend,' he murmured vaguely to -himself, 'collect your scattered senses and find out exactly -where you are.' -</p> - -<p> -Dizziness seized him again, and he came down on one -knee. -</p> - -<p> -'Jehan, you dog!' he exclaimed instinctively, 'where -the devil are you?' -</p> - -<p> -To which summons Maître Jehan was evidently unable -to give reply, and Messire Gilles, very sore and very much -out of humour, once more contrived to struggle to his feet. -The tinkling of that bell seemed more insistent now; his -re-awakened consciousness worked a little more actively. -</p> - -<p> -'We fought just below Gembloux,' he reflected. 'The -tinkling which I hear is the monastery bell on the heights -above. Now, if it will go on tinkling till I have struck the -right direction and see a light in the monastery windows, -I doubt not but that those worthy monks will let me lie -in the kennel of one of their dogs until I can find my way -to a more congenial spot.' -</p> - -<p> -From which cynical reflection it can be gathered that -Messire Gilles had not a vast amount of faith in the -hospitality of those good Benedictines of Gembloux; which -doubt on his part is scarce to be wondered at, seeing that -he had been fighting on the side of the heretics. -</p> - -<p> -'If only that ass Jehan were here!' he added, with a -final despondent sigh. -</p> - -<p> -It was no earthly use for a wounded, half-fainting man -to go searching for another in the darkness on this field -littered with dead and dying. Gilles, whom a vague instinct -drove to the thought, had soon to give up all idea of it as -hopeless. The same acute sense of hearing which had -brought to his semi-consciousness the sound of the tinkling -bell, also caused him to perceive through the murky blackness -the presence of the human vultures taking their pickings -off the dead. -</p> - -<p> -Gilles shuddered with the horror of it. He felt somehow -that poor old Jehan must be dead. He had seen him fall -by his side in the thick of the fight. He himself was only -half-alive now. The thought that he might once more -fall under the talons of the body-snatchers filled him with -unspeakable loathing. He gave himself a final shake in -order to combat the numbness which had crept into his -limbs in the wake of the cold, the faintness and the pain. -Then, guided through the darkness by the welcome -tintinnabulation of the monastery bell, he started to make -his way across the valley. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -III -</h4> - -<p> -Why should I speak of that weary, wretched tramp of -a sorely-wounded man, in the dead of night, on sharply-rising -ground, and along a track strewn with dead and dying, -with broken bits of steel and torn accoutrements, on -sodden ground rendered slippery with blood? Messire -Gilles himself never spoke of it to any one, so why should -I put it on record? It took him five hours to cover less -than half a league, and he, of a truth, could not have told -you how he did it even in that time. He was not really -fully conscious, which was no doubt one of God's many -mercies, for he did not feel the pain and the fatigue, and -when he stumbled and fell, as he very often did, he picked -himself up again with just that blind, insentient action -which the instinct of self-preservation will at times give -to man. -</p> - -<p> -Whenever he recalled this terrible episode in his chequered -career, it took the form in his brain of a whirl of confused -memories. The tinkling of the bell ceased after a while, -and the moans which rose from the field of battle were -soon left behind. Anon only a group of tiny lights guided -him. They came from the windows of the monastery -on the heights above, still so far—so very far away. Beyond -those lights and the stillness—nothing; neither pain, nor -cold, nor fatigue, only a gradual sinking of sense, of physical -and mental entity into a dark unknown, bottomless abyss. -Then a sudden, awful stumble, more terrible than any that -had gone before, a sharp agonizing blow on the head—a -fall—a fall into the yawning abyss—then nothing more. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -IV -</h4> - -<p> -Everything that happened after this belongs to the world -of dreams. So, at any rate, did Messire Gilles aver. The -sensation of waking up, of opening his eyes, of feeling -sweet-smelling straw beneath his aching body, was, of course, a -dream. The sense of well-being, of warm yet deliciously -cooling water, and of clean linen upon his wounds was a -dream; the murmur of voices around him was a dream. -</p> - -<p> -Perhaps Messire Gilles would have thought that they -were realities, because all these sensations, remember, were -not altogether unknown to him. How many times he had -lain wounded and insensible during his stormy life-career, -he could not himself have told you. He had oft been tended -by kindly Samaritans—lay or clerical; he had oft lain on -fresh, clean straw and felt that sense of well-being which -comes of complete rest after dire fatigue. But what he -had never experienced in his life before, and what convinced -him subsequently that the whole episode had only been -the creation of his fevered fancy, was that wonderful vision -of a white-robed saint or angel—good Messire Gilles could -not have told you which, for he was not versed in such -matters—which flitted ever and anon before his weary eyes. -It was the sound of a voice, whispering and gentle, which -was like the murmur of butterflies' wings among a wilderness -of roses; it was the perfume of spring flowers with the -dew fresh upon them which came to his nostrils; it was a -touch like unto the velvety petals of a lily which now and -again rested upon his brow, and above all it was a pair of -deep blue eyes, which ever and anon met his aching ones -with a glance full of gentleness and of pity. -</p> - -<p> -Now, although Messire Gilles was quite willing to admit -that some angels might have blue eyes, yet he had never -heard it said that they had a tiny brown mole on the left -cheek-bone—a mole which, small as it was, appeared like -a veritable trap for a kiss, and added a quaint air of -roguishness to the angelic blue eyes. -</p> - -<p> -But then Gilles de Crohin, being a heretic and something -of a vagabond, was not intimately acquainted with the -outward appearance of angels. Moreover, that wee, tantalizing -mole was far removed from the reach of his lips. -</p> - -<p> -'Think you he'll recover, Messire?' -</p> - -<p> -Just at that moment Gilles de Crohin could have sworn -that he was conscious and awake; but that whisper, which -suddenly reached his hazy perception, could not have been -aught but a part of his dream. He would have liked to -pinch or kick himself to see if he were in truth awake, but -he was too weak and too helpless to do that; so he lay -quite still, fearful lest, if he moved, the vision of the -white-robed angel who had just made such tender inquiry after -him, would vanish again into the gloom. Thus he heard -a reply, gruff and not over tender, which, of a truth, had -nothing dreamlike about it. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, he'll recover soon enough, gracious lady. These -rascals have tough hides, like ploughing oxen.' -</p> - -<p> -Messire Gilles de Crohin, Sire de Froidmont, tried to -move, for he was impelled to get up forthwith in order to -chastise the malapert who had dared to call him a rascal; -but it seemed as if his limbs were weighted with lead—for -which fact he promptly thanked his stars, since if he had -moved, those heavenly blue eyes would, mayhap, not scan -his face again so anxiously. -</p> - -<p> -'Think you he fought on the side of our enemies?' -the dream-voice queried again; and this time there -was an awed, almost trembling tone in its exquisite -music. -</p> - -<p> -'Aye,' answered the graft one, 'of that I have no doubt. -Neither psalter nor Holy Bible have I found about his -person, and the gracious lady should not have wasted her -pity upon a spawn of the devil.' -</p> - -<p> -'He looked so forlorn and so helpless,' said the -angel-voice with gentle reproach. 'Could I let him lie there, -untended in a ditch?' -</p> - -<p> -'How did he get there?' retorted the real—the human—voice. -'That is what I would wish to know. The fighting -took place over half a league away, and if he got his -wounds on the battlefield, I, for one, do not see how he -could have walked to the postern gate and deposited himself -there, just in time to be in your way when you deigned -to pass.' -</p> - -<p> -'God guided him, Messire,' said the angel softly, 'so -that you might do one of those acts of goodness and of -charity for which He will surely reward you.' -</p> - -<p> -Some one—a man, surely—seemed to mumble and to -grumble a good deal after that, until the human voice -once more emerged clearly out of the confused hubbub. -</p> - -<p> -'Anyhow, gracious lady,' it said, 'you had best let -yourself be escorted back to your apartment now. Messire -is already fuming and fretting after you; nor is it seemly -that you should remain here any longer. The fellow will -do quite well, and I'll warrant be none the worse for it. -He's been through this sort of thing before, my word on -it. His wounds will heal...' -</p> - -<p> -'Even that horrid one across his wrist?' queried the -white-robed saint again. (Gilles by now was quite sure -that it was a saint, for the tender touch upon his burning -hand acted like a charm which soothed and healed.) -</p> - -<p> -'Even that one, gracious lady,' replied the swine who -had dared to speak of the Sire de Froidmont as a 'rascal' -and a 'fellow.' 'Though I own 'tis a sore cut. The rascal -will be marked for life, I'll warrant. I've never seen such -a strange wound before. The exact shape of a cross it -is—like the mark on an ass's back.... But it'll heal, -gracious lady ... it'll heal ... I entreat you to leave -him to me.' -</p> - -<p> -Anger again rose hotly to Messire Gilles' fevered brow, -whereupon everything became more and more confused. -The darkness closed in around him; he could no longer -see things or hear them; he was once more sinking into -the dark and bottomless abyss. He opened his eyes, only -to see a white-robed vision far, far above him, fading slowly -but certainly into nothingness. The last thing which he -remembered was just that pair of blue eyes—the most -luminous eyes he had ever gazed into; eyes which looked -both demure and tantalizing—oh, so maddeningly tantalizing -with that adorable little mole, which was just asking -for a kiss! -</p> - -<p> -And the rest was silence. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -V -</h4> - -<p> -When Gilles de Crohin, Sire de Froidmont, once more -recovered consciousness, it was broad daylight. The slanting -rays of a genial, wintry sun had struck him full in the -face, and incidentally had been infusing some warmth into -his numbed body. He opened his eyes and tried to visualize -his position. It took him some time. He still felt very -giddy and very sick, and when he tried to move he ached -in every limb. But he was not cold, and his temples did -not throb with fever. As he groped about with his right -hand, he encountered firstly the folds of a thick woollen -cloak which had been carefully wrapped around him, and -then, at a foot or so away, a pitcher and a hunk of -something which to the touch appeared very like bread. -</p> - -<p> -Messire Gilles paused after these preliminary investigations, -closed his eyes and thought things out. He had been -dreaming, of that there was no doubt, but he would be -hanged, drawn and quartered if he knew whence had come -the pleasing reality of a cloak, a pitcher and a hunk of -bread. -</p> - -<p> -It was some time after that, and when the sun was -already high in the heavens, that he managed to sit up, -feeling the pangs of hunger and of thirst intensified by the -vicinity of that delectable bread. The pitcher contained -fresh, creamy milk, which Messire Gilles drank eagerly. -Somehow the coolness of it, its sweetness and its fragrance -made his dream appear more vivid to him. The bread was -white and tasted uncommonly good. After he had eaten -and drunk he was able to look about him. -</p> - -<p> -As far as he could recollect anything, he was lying very -near the spot where he had fallen the day before—or the -day before that, or a week, or a month ago—Messire Gilles -was not at all clear on the point. But here he was, at any -rate, and there were all the landmarks which he had noted -at the time, when first his troop was attacked by the -Spaniards. There was the clump of leafless shrubs, trampled -now into the mud by thousands of scurrying feet; there -was the group of broken trees, stretching gaunt arms up -to the skies, and beyond them the little white house with -the roof all broken in—a miserable derelict in the midst of -the desolation. -</p> - -<p> -He, Gilles, had been propped up against a broken tree-trunk -which lay prone upon the ground. Underneath him -there was a thick horse-blanket, and over him the -aforementioned warm cloak. His cut wrist had been skilfully -bandaged, the wounds about his body had been dressed -and covered with soft linen, and, hidden away under the -trunk, behind where he was lying, there was another loaf -of bread, another pitcher containing water, the limbs of -a roasted capon and a pat of delicious-looking cream cheese. -</p> - -<p> -The Benedictine monastery which, from the distant -heights had dominated the field of battle, was on Gilles' -right. All around him the valley appeared silent and -deserted save by the dead who still lay forgotten and -abandoned even by the human vultures who had picked them -clean. There were no more dying on the field of Gembloux -now. Here and there a clump of rough shrubs, a broken -tree with skeleton arms stretched out toward the distance, -as if in mute reproach for so much misery and such wanton -devastation; here and there the crumbling ruins of a wayside -habitation, roofless and forlorn, from which there still -rose to the wintry firmament above, a thin column of smoke. -From somewhere far away came the rippling murmur of -the stream and through it the dismal sound of a dog howling -in this wilderness, whilst overhead a flight of rooks sent -their weird croaking through the humid air. -</p> - -<p> -All other sounds were stilled—the clash of arms, the call -of despair or of victory, the snorting of horses, the cries of -rage and of triumph had all been merged in the mist-laden -horizon far away. Was it indeed yesterday, or a cycle of -years ago that Gilles de Crohin had lain just here, not far -from this same fallen tree-trunk, a prey to the ghoulish -body-snatchers who, by their very act of hideous vandalism, had -brought him back to his senses? -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -VI -</h4> - -<p> -Later on in the forenoon when, having eaten some of the -capon and the cream cheese, he was able to struggle to his -feet, Gilles started out to look for his friend. -</p> - -<p> -Though his thoughts and impressions were still in a state -of confusion, the possible plight of Maître Jehan weighed -heavily on Messire's soul. -</p> - -<p> -He remembered where Jehan had fallen right down in -the valley, not far from the edge of the stream and close -to the spot where he, Gilles, had received that terrible blow -upon his wrist, and had then lashed out so furiously into -the Spaniard in his wrath at seeing his faithful henchman -fall. -</p> - -<p> -And there indeed he found him—stark naked and -half-frozen. The human vultures had robbed him even of his -shirt. The search had been long and painful, for in -addition to his own weary limbs, Messire Gilles had dragged -the horse-blanket and the warm cloak about with him. -He knew, alas! in what plight he would find Master -Jehan—if indeed he were fortunate enough to find him at all; -and he had also carried the pitcher half-filled with water -and had thrust bread and capon into his breeches' pocket. -Now that he had succeeded in his quest, he laid the blanket -and the cloak over the inanimate body of his friend, moistened -poor Jehan's cracked lips with the water, then he laid -down beside him and fell into another swoon. -</p> - -<p> -Sometime during that long and bitter day he had the -satisfaction of hearing Master Jehan both groan and curse. -He was able to feed him with bread and to ply him with -water; and when the night came the two of them rolled -themselves up in the one blanket and kept one another -warm and comforted as best they could. -</p> - -<p> -It is not my purpose to speak of the vicissitudes, of -the ups and downs which befell Messire Gilles de Crohin -and his faithful Jehan during the next few days and weeks, -whilst they struggled from a state of moribundity into -one of life and vigour once again, tended and aided now -by one Samaritan, now by another; helped, too, by a -piece of gold which Messire Gilles most unaccountably -found in the inner pocket of his doublet. He swore that -he had no idea he had ever left one there. -</p> - -<p> -All that I desire to remind you of is that, as soon as he -could again struggle to his feet, he went on another quest—one -that to him was only second in importance to the search -for his friend. It was a quest connected with the Benedictine -monastery up yonder on a spur of the Ardennes. Messire -Gilles now was quite conscious enough to remember that -the monastery had been his objective when, sorely wounded -and aching in every limb, he had started on a weary tramp -which had culminated in an exquisite dream. To the -monastery, therefore, he meant to go, for he wished to -ascertain if somewhere near by there was a postern gate, beside -which angels with blue eyes and perfumed hands were wont -to pass, and to minister to the sick and to the weary. -Messire Gilles, you perceive, trusted a great deal to intuition -first and then to observation. He was quite certain in -his own mind that if there was a postern gate he would -come across it; and he was equally certain that in the -rough grass or the scrub close by he would recognize traces -of a sorely-wounded man falling headlong against a very -hard wall, and the footsteps of the kindly Samaritan who, -at the aforesaid angel's bidding, had carried him to shelter. -</p> - -<p> -As for the angel, it was obvious of course, that such -celestial beings did not walk and would not therefore leave -imprints upon the sordid earth; still, even so, Messire -Gilles clung to the vain hope that he would see tiny -footprints somewhere, such as fairies make when they dance -in a ring, and that from the very ground there would arise -the perfume of spring flowers when the dew is fresh upon -them in the morn. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -VII -</h4> - -<p> -I may as well put it on record here and now that Gilles -de Crohin, Sire de Froidmont, after having tramped along -half a league or more, came upon the purlieus of the -Benedictine monastery of Gembloux, which is famed far and wide, -and that after much exploration he did discover a postern -gate which was let into a high stone wall. But neither -in front of that gate, nor anywhere near it, were there -any traces of Samaritans, of angels or of a wounded man. -The ground round about that gate had at some time or -another been strewn with sand and raked over very smoothly -and evenly, after which the humid air and the rain had -had their way with it. -</p> - -<p> -Messire Gilles uttered a comprehensive oath. Then he -turned on his heel and went his way. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap02"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER II -<br /><br /> - HOW A NOBLE PRINCE PRACTISED THE GENTLE<br /> - ART OF PROCRASTINATION<br /> -</h3> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -I -</h4> - -<p> -Now, all that which I have related occurred during the -month of February in the year 1578—three years -and more ago. -</p> - -<p> -After which I come to my story. -</p> - -<p> -We will leave the subject of Messire Gilles' dream, an it -please you; we will even leave that gallant if somewhat -out-at-elbows gentleman in the tap-room of the only -hostelry of which the little town of La Fère could boast, where -he must needs wait for the good pleasure of no less a -personage than François Hercule, Duke of Alençon and of -Anjou—usually styled '<i>Monsieur</i>'—who was own brother -to His Very Christian Majesty, King Henry III of France, -and whom Gilles de Crohin, Sire de Froidmont, was serving -for the nonce. -</p> - -<p> -M. le Duc d'Alençon and d'Anjou was closeted upstairs -with the Queen of Navarre, that faithful and adoring sister -who had already committed many follies for his sake, and -who was ready to commit as many more. What she saw -to adore and worship in this degenerate and indolent scion -of the princely house of Valois, in this foppish profligate -devoid alike of morals and of valour, no historian has ever -been able to fathom. That he had some hidden qualities -that were as noble as they have remained unknown to -tradition, we must assume from the very fact that Marguerite, -Queen of Navarre, one of the most brilliant women of that -or any epoch and the wife of one of the most dazzling and -fascinating men of his day, lavished the resources of her -intellect and of her sisterly love upon that graceless -coxcomb. -</p> - -<p> -Picture her now—that beautiful, clever woman—full of -energy, of vitality and of burning ambition, pacing the -narrow room in the humble hostelry of a second-rate city, -up and down like some caged and exquisite wild animal, -the while that same fondly-adored brother sat there silent -and surly, his long legs, encased in breeches of delicate -green satin, stretched out before him, his not unattractive -face, framed in by an over-elaborate ruffle, bent in moody -contemplation of his velvet shoes, the while his perfumed -and slender hands fidgeted uneasily with the folds of his -mantle or with the slashings of his doublet. -</p> - -<p> -On the table before him lay a letter, all crumpled and -partly torn, which Marguerite had just thrown down in -an access of angry impatience. -</p> - -<p> -'By all the saints, François,' she said tartly, 'you would -provoke an angel into exasperation. In Heaven's name, -tell me what you mean to do.' -</p> - -<p> -<i>Monsieur</i> did not reply immediately. He stretched out -his legs still further before him; he shook his mantle into -place; he smoothed down the creases of his satin breeches; -then he contemplated his highly polished nails. Marguerite -of Navarre, with flaming cheeks and blazing eyes, stood -by, looking down on him with ever-growing irritability -not unmixed with contempt. -</p> - -<p> -'François!' she exclaimed once more, evidently at the -end of her patience. -</p> - -<p> -'Gently, my dear Margot; gently!' said <i>Monsieur</i>, -with the peevishness of a spoilt child. 'Holy Virgin, how -you do fume! Believe me, choler is bad for the stomach -and worse for the complexion. And, after all, where is -the hurry? One must have time to think.' -</p> - -<p> -'Think! Think!' she retorted. ''Tis two days since -M. d'Inchy's letter came and he sends anon for his answer.' -</p> - -<p> -'Which means,' he argued complacently, 'that there -is no cause to come to a decision for at least half an hour.' -</p> - -<p> -An angry exclamation broke from Marguerite's full lips. -</p> - -<p> -'My dear Margot,' said the Duke fretfully, 'marriage -is a very serious thing, and——' -</p> - -<p> -He paused, frowning, for his sister had burst into ironical -laughter. 'I am well aware,' he resumed dryly, 'that -you, my dear, look upon it as a cause for levity, and that -poor Navarre, your husband——' -</p> - -<p> -'I pray you, dear brother,' she broke in coldly, 'do -not let the pot call the kettle black. 'Tis neither in good -taste nor yet opportune. M. d'Inchy will send for his -answer anon. You must make up your mind now, whether -you mean to accept his proposal or not.' -</p> - -<p> -Again <i>Monsieur</i> remained silent for awhile. Procrastination -was as the breath of his body to him. Even now -he drew the letter—every word of which he probably knew -already by heart—towards him and fell to re-reading it -for the twentieth time. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -II -</h4> - -<p> -Marguerite of Navarre, biting her lips and almost crying -with vexation, went up to the deep window embrasure and, -throwing open the casement, she rested her elbow on the -sill and leaned her cheek against her hand. -</p> - -<p> -The open courtyard of the hostelry was at her feet, and -beyond it the market-place of the sleepy little town with -its quaint, narrow houses and tall crow's foot gables and -curious signs, rudely painted, swinging on iron brackets -in the breeze. It was early afternoon of a mild day in -February, and in the courtyard of the hostelry there was -the usual bustle attendant upon the presence of a high -and mighty personage and of his numerous suite. -</p> - -<p> -Men-at-arms passed to and fro; burghers from the tiny -city, in dark cloth clothes and sombre caps, came to pay -their respects; peasants from the country-side brought -produce for sale; serving-men in drab linen and maids -in gaily-coloured kerchiefs flitted in and out of the hostelry -and across the yard with trays of refreshments for the retinue -of M. le Duc d'Anjou and of Madame la Reynede Navarre, -own brother and sister of the King of France. Indeed, it -was not often that so great a prince and so exalted a lady -had graced La Fère with their presence, and the hostelry -had been hard put to it to do honour to two such noble -guests. Mine host and his wife and buxom daughters -were already wellnigh sick with worry, for though Madame -la Reyne de Navarre and M. le Duc, her brother, were very -exacting and their gentlemen both hungry and thirsty, -not one among these, from <i>Monsieur</i> downwards, cared -to pay for what he had. And while the little town seethed -with soldiery and with loud-voiced gentlemen, the unfortunate -burghers who housed them and the poor merchants -and peasants who had to feed them, almost sighed for the -Spanish garrisons who, at any rate, were always well-paid -and paying. -</p> - -<p> -Down below in the courtyard there was constant jingling -of spurs and rattle of sabres, loud language and ribald -laughter; but when the casement flew open and the Queen -of Navarre's face appeared at the window, the latter, at -any rate, was at once suppressed. In the shade and across -a narrow wooden bench on which they sat astride, a couple -of gentlemen-at-arms were throwing dice, surrounded by -a mixed and gaping crowd—soldiers, servants, maids and -peasants—who exchanged pleasantries while watching -the game. -</p> - -<p> -Marguerite looked down on them for a moment or two, -and an impatient frown appeared between her brows. She -did not like the look of her brother's 'gentlemen,' for they -were of a truth very much out-at-elbows, free of speech -and curt of manner. The fact that they were never paid -and often left in the lurch, if not actually sold to their -enemies by <i>Monsieur</i>, accounted, no doubt, for all the -laxity, and Marguerite swore to herself even then, that if -ever her favourite brother reached the ambitious goal for -which she was scheming on his behalf, one of his first acts -of sovereignty should be to dismiss such down-at-heel, -out-at-elbows swashbucklers as were, for instance, Messire -Gilles de Crohin and many others. After which vow -Marguerite de Navarre once more turned to her brother, -trying to assume self-control and calmness which she was -far from feeling. He appeared still absorbed in the -contemplation of the letter, and as he looked up lazily and -encountered her blazing eyes, he yawned ostentatiously. -</p> - -<p> -'François!' she burst out angrily. -</p> - -<p> -'Well, my dear?' he retorted. -</p> - -<p> -'M. le Baron d'Inchy,' she continued more quietly, 'hath -taken possession of Cambray and the Cambrésis and driven -the pro-Spanish Archbishop into exile. He offers to deliver -up the Cambrésis and to open the gates of Cambray to you -immediately, whilst M. le Comte de Lalain will hand you -over, equally readily, the provinces of Hainault, of Flanders -and of Artois.' -</p> - -<p> -'I know all that,' he muttered. -</p> - -<p> -'You might be Duke of Hainault and Artois,' she went -on with passionate enthusiasm. 'You might found a -new kingdom of the Netherlands, with yourself as its first -sovereign lord—and you hesitate!!! Holy Joseph! Holy -Legions of Angels!' she added, with a bitter sigh of -pent-up exasperation. 'What have I done that I should be -plagued with such a nincompoop for a brother?' -</p> - -<p> -François d'Alençon and d'Anjou laughed and shrugged -his shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -'The provinces are worth considering,' he said coolly. -'Cambray is attractive, and I would not object to the -Duchies of Artois and Hainault, or even to a Kingdom of -the Netherlands. But...!' -</p> - -<p> -'Well?' she broke in testily. 'What is the "but"?' -</p> - -<p> -He sighed and made a sour grimace. 'There is a bitter -pill to swallow with all that sugar,' he replied. 'You -appear to be forgetting that, my very impetuous sister!' -</p> - -<p> -It was Marguerite's turn to shrug her pretty shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -'Bah!' she said contemptuously. 'A wife! You call -that a bitter pill! Jacqueline de——what is her name?' -</p> - -<p> -<i>Monsieur</i> referred to the letter. -</p> - -<p> -'Jacqueline de Broyart,' he said dryly. -</p> - -<p> -'Well! Jacqueline de Broyart,' she continued, more -composedly, 'is said to be attractive. M. d'Inchy says -so.' -</p> - -<p> -'A merchant must praise the goods which he offers for -sale,' remarked Monsieur. -</p> - -<p> -'And even if she be ill-favoured,' retorted Marguerite -dryly, 'she brings the richest duchies in the Netherlands -and the influence of her name and family as her marriage -portion. Surely a kingdom is worth a wife.' -</p> - -<p> -'Sometimes.' -</p> - -<p> -'In this case, François,' urged Marguerite impatiently. -Then, with one of those sudden changes of mood which -were one of her main charms, she added with a kind of gentle -and solemn earnestness: 'You in your turn appear to forget, -my exasperating brother, that 'tis I who have worked for -you, just as I always have done heretofore, I who made -friends for you with these loutish, ill-mannered Flemings, -and who prepared the way which has led to such a brilliant -goal. Whilst you wasted your substance in riotous living -in our beloved Paris, I was half-killing myself with ennui -in this abominable Flemish climate, I was drinking the -poisonous waters of Spa so as to remain in touch with the -governors of all these disaffected provinces and insidiously -turning their minds towards looking for a prince of the house -of France to be their deliverer and their ruler. Now my -labours are bearing fruit. Don John of Austria is more -hated throughout the Netherlands than he was before my -coming hither, the provinces are more wearied of the -Spanish yoke—they are more ready to accept a foreign ruler, -even though he be a Catholic to boot. You have now but -to stretch a hand, and all the golden harvest prepared by -me will fall into it without another effort on your part save -that of a prompt decision. So let me tell you, once and -for all, Monsieur my brother, that if you refuse that golden -harvest now, if you do not accept the Baron d'Inchy's -offer, never as long as I live will I raise another finger to -help you or to advance your welfare. And this I hereby -do swear most solemnly and pray to the Virgin to register -my vow!' -</p> - -<p> -The Duke, unaccustomed to his charming sister's earnestness, -had listened to her without departing from his sullen -mood. When she had finished her tirade he shrugged his -shoulders and yawned. -</p> - -<p> -'How you do talk, my dear Margot!' he said coolly. -'To hear you one would imagine that I was an incorrigible -rogue, an immoral profligate and a do-nothing.' -</p> - -<p> -'Well, what else are you?' she retorted. -</p> - -<p> -'A much maligned, overworked prince.' -</p> - -<p> -She laughed, and despite her choler a look of genuine -affection crept into her eyes as she met the reproachful -glance of the brother whom she loved so dearly, and whose -faults she was always ready to condone. -</p> - -<p> -'By the Mass!' quoth he. 'You talk of having worked -and slaved for me—and so you have, I'll own—but, far -from leading a dissipated life in Paris the while, I toiled -and slaved, intrigued and conspired, too—aye, and risked -my life a hundred times so that I might fall in with your -schemes.' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh!' she broke in with a good-natured laugh. 'Let -us be just, Monsieur my brother. You allowed others to -toil and slave and intrigue and conspire, and to risk their -life in your cause——' -</p> - -<p> -''Tis you are unjust, Margot,' he retorted hotly. 'Why, -think you then, that I was arrested by order of my brother -the King, and thrown into the dungeon of Vincennes——?' -</p> - -<p> -'You would not have been arrested, my dear,' said -Marguerite dryly, 'if you had not chosen to be arrested.' -</p> - -<p> -'The King, our brother, does not approve of your schemes, -my Margot.' -</p> - -<p> -'He is the dog in the manger,' she replied. 'Though -Flanders and Hainault and the Netherlands are not for -him, he does not wish to see you a more powerful prince -than he.' -</p> - -<p> -'So, you see——' -</p> - -<p> -'But you knew,' she broke in quickly, 'you knew four -and twenty hours before the order of your arrest was issued -that the King had already decided on signing it. You had -ample time for leaving Paris and joining me at Spa. Six -precious months would not have been wasted——' -</p> - -<p> -'Well! I escaped out of Vincennes as soon as I could.' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes!' she retorted, once more fuming and raging, and -once more pacing up and down the room like a fretful -animal in a cage. 'Procrastination! Time wasted! -Shelving of important decisions!...' -</p> - -<p> -He pointed leisurely to the letter. -</p> - -<p> -'There's no time lost,' he said. -</p> - -<p> -'Time wasted is always lost,' she argued. 'The tone -of M. le Baron d'Inchy is more peremptory this time than -it was six months ago. There is a "take it or leave it" -air about this letter. The provinces are waxing impatient. -The Prince of Orange is rapidly becoming the idol of the -Netherlands. What you reject he will no doubt accept. -He is a man—a man of action, not a laggard——' -</p> - -<p> -'But I am not rejecting anything!' exclaimed <i>Monsieur</i> -irritably. -</p> - -<p> -'Then, for God's sake, François——!' -</p> - -<p> -Marguerite de Navarre paused, standing for a few seconds -quite still, her whole attitude one of rigid expectancy. -The next moment she had run back to the window. But -now she leaned far out of the casement, heedless if the men -below saw the Queen of Navarre and smiled over her eagerness. -Her keen ears had caught the sound of an approaching -troop of men; the clatter of horses' hoofs upon the -hard road was already drawing perceptibly nearer. -</p> - -<p> -'Messire Gilles!' she called out impatiently to one of -the dice-throwers, who was continuing his game unperturbed. -</p> - -<p> -In a moment the man was on his feet. He looked up -and saw the Queen's pretty face framed in by the -casement-window; and a pretty woman was the only thing on God's -earth which commanded Gilles de Crohin's entire respect. -Immediately he stood at attention, silhouetted against -the sunlit market-place beyond—a tall, martial figure, -with face weather-beaten and forehead scarred, the record -of a hundred fights depicted in every line of the sinewy -limbs, the powerful shoulders, the look of self-assurance -in the deep-set eyes and the strong, square jaw. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -III -</h4> - -<p> -There was nothing very handsome about Messire Gilles -de Crohin. That portrait of him by Rembrandt—a mere -sketch—done some years later, suggests a ruggedness of -exterior which might have been even repulsive at times, -when passion or choler distorted the irregular features. -Only the eyes, grey and profound, and the full lips, ever -ready to smile, may have been attractive. In a vague way -he resembled the royal master whom he was serving now. -The features were not unlike those of François, Duc -d'Alençon et d'Anjou, but cast in a rougher, more powerful -mould and fashioned of stouter clay. The resemblance is -perhaps more striking in the picture than it could have -been in the original, for the Duke's skin was almost as -smooth as a woman's, his hair and sparse, pointed beard -were always exquisitely brushed and oiled; whereas -Gilles' skin was that of a man who has spent more nights -in the open than in a downy bed, and his moustache—he -did not wear the fashionable beard—was wont to bristle, -each hair standing aloof from its neighbour, whenever -Messire Gilles bridled with amusement or with rage. -</p> - -<p> -Then, again, Gilles looked older than the Duke, even -though he was, I think, the younger of the two by several -years; but we may take it that neither his cradle nor his -youth had been watched over with such tender care as -those of the scion of the house of France, and though -dissipation and a surfeit of pleasure had drawn many lines -on the placid face of the one man, hard fighting and hard -living had left deeper imprints still on that of the other. -Still, the resemblance was there, and though Gilles' limbs -indicated elasticity and power, whereas those of the Prince -of Valois were more slender and loosely knit, the two men -were much of a height and build, sufficiently so, at any -rate, to cause several chroniclers—notably the Queen of -Navarre herself—to aver that Gilles de Crohin's personality -ofttimes shielded that of <i>Monsieur</i>, Duke of Anjou and of -Alençon, and that Messire Gilles was ofttimes requisitioned -to impersonate the master whom he served and resembled, -especially when any danger at the hand of an outraged -husband or father, or of a hired assassin lurked for the -profligate prince behind a hedge or in the angle of a dark -street. Nor was that resemblance to be altogether wondered -at, seeing that the de Froidmonts claimed direct descent -from the house of Valois and still quartered the Flower -o' the Lily on ground azure upon their escutcheon, with -the proud device: 'Roy ne suys, ne Duc, ne Prince, ne -Comte; je suys Sire de Froide Monte.'[<a id="chap02fn1text"></a><a href="#chap02fn1">1</a>] They had indeed -played at one time an important part in the destinies of -the princely house, until fickle Fortune took so resolutely -to turning her back upon the last descendants of the noble -race. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap02fn1"></a> -[<a href="#chap02fn1text">1</a>] 'Am neither King, nor Duke, nor Prince, nor Count; am Sire -de Froide Monte.' -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Marguerite of Navarre was too thoroughly a woman not -to appreciate the appearance of one who was so thoroughly -a man. Gilles de Crohin may have been out-at-elbows, -but even the rough leather jerkin which he wore and the -faded kerseymere of his doublet could not altogether mar -a curious air of breeding and of power which was not in -accord with penury and a position of oft humiliating -dependence. So, despite her impatience, she gazed on Gilles -for a moment or two with quick satisfaction ere she -said: -</p> - -<p> -''Tis Monseigneur d'Inchy's messenger we hear, is it -not, Messire?' -</p> - -<p> -'I doubt not, your Majesty,' replied Gilles. -</p> - -<p> -'Then I pray you,' she added, 'conduct him to my -brother's presence directly he arrives.' -</p> - -<p> -And even whilst the sound of approaching horsemen -drew nearer and nearer still, and anon a great clatter upon -the rough paving stones of the courtyard announced their -arrival, Marguerite turned back into the room. She ran -to her brother's chair and knelt down beside him. She -put fond arms round his shoulders and forced him to look -into her tear-filled eyes. -</p> - -<p> -'François,' she pleaded, with the tenderness of a doting -mother. '<i>Mon petit</i> François! For my sake, if not for -yours! You don't know how I have toiled and worked -so that this should come to pass. I want you to be great -and mighty and influential. I hate your being in the -humiliating position of a younger brother beside Henri, -who is so arrogant and dictatorial with us all. François, -dear, I have worked for you because I love you. Let me -have my reward!' -</p> - -<p> -<i>Monsieur</i> sighed like the spoilt child he really was, and -made his habitual sour grimace. -</p> - -<p> -'You are too good to me, Margot,' he said somewhat -churlishly. 'I would you had left the matter alone. Our -brother Henri cannot live for ever, and his good wife has -apparently no intention of presenting him with a son.' -</p> - -<p> -'Our brother Henri,' she insisted, 'can live on until -you are too old to enjoy the reversion of the throne of -France, and Louise de Lorraine is still young—who knows? -The Duchies of Artois and Hainault and the Sovereignty -of the Netherlands to-day are worth more than the vague -perspective of the throne of France mayhap ten or a dozen -years hence——' -</p> - -<p> -'And my marriage with Elizabeth of England?' he -protested. -</p> - -<p> -'Elizabeth of England will never marry you, François,' -she replied earnestly. 'She is too fanatical a Protestant -ever to look with favour on a Catholic prince. She will -keep you dangling round her skirts and fool you to the top -of her bent, but Milor of Leycester will see to it that you do -not wed the Queen of England.' -</p> - -<p> -'If I marry this Flemish wench I shall be burning my -boats——' -</p> - -<p> -'What matter?' she retorted hotly, 'if you enter so -glorious a harbour?' -</p> - -<p> -There was nothing in the world that suited <i>Monsieur's</i> -temperament better than lengthy discussions over a decision, -which could thereby be conveniently put off. Even now -he would have talked and argued and worn his sister's -patience down to breaking point if suddenly the corridor -outside had not resounded with martial footsteps and the -jingling of swords and spurs. -</p> - -<p> -'François!' pleaded Marguerite for the last time. -</p> - -<p> -And the Duke, still irresolute, still longing to procrastinate, -gave a final sigh of sullen resignation. -</p> - -<p> -'Very well!' he said. 'Since you wish it——' -</p> - -<p> -'I do,' she replied solemnly. 'I do wish it most earnestly, -most sincerely. You <i>will</i> accept, François?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes.' -</p> - -<p> -'You promise?' -</p> - -<p> -Again he hesitated. Then, as the footsteps halted -outside the door and Marguerite almost squeezed the breath -out of his body with the pressure of her young strong arms, -he said reluctantly: 'I promise!' Then, immediately—for -fear he should be held strictly to his word—he added -quickly: 'On one condition.' -</p> - -<p> -'What is that?' she asked. -</p> - -<p> -'That I am not asked to plight my troth to the wench -till after I have seen her; for I herewith do swear most -solemnly that I would repudiate her at the eleventh hour—aye, -at the very foot of the altar steps, if any engagement -is entered into in my name to which I have not willingly -subscribed.' -</p> - -<p> -This time he spoke so solemnly and with such unwonted -decision that Marguerite thought it best to give way. At -the back of her over-quick mind she knew that by hook or -by crook she would presently devise a plan which would -reconcile his wishes to her own. -</p> - -<p> -'Very well,' she said after an almost imperceptible -moment of hesitation. 'It shall be as you say.' -</p> - -<p> -And despite the half-hearted promise given by the -arch-procrastinator, there was a look of triumph and of joy on -Queen Marguerite's piquant features now. She rose to -her feet and hastily dried her tears. -</p> - -<p> -There was a rap at the door. Marguerite seated herself -on a cushioned chair opposite her brother and called out -serenely: 'Enter!' -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap03"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER III -<br /><br /> -HOW A CLEVER WOMAN OUTWITTED AN OBSTINATE MAN -</h3> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -I -</h4> - -<p> -The door was thrown open and Messire Gilles de Crohin, -Sire de Froidmont, stood at attention upon the -threshold. -</p> - -<p> -'Monseigneur le Baron d'Inchy's messenger, is it not, -Messire?' asked Marguerite of Navarre quickly, even -before Gilles had time to make the formal announcement. -</p> - -<p> -'Messire de Montigny has arrived, your Majesty,' he -replied. 'He bears credentials from Monseigneur the -governor of Cambray.' -</p> - -<p> -'Messire de Montigny?' she said, with a frown of -puzzlement. 'In person?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, your Majesty.' -</p> - -<p> -'Has he come with a retinue, then?' broke in <i>Monsieur</i> -with his wonted peevishness. 'There is no room in the -city. Already I have scarce room for my men.' -</p> - -<p> -'Messire de Montigny is alone, Monseigneur,' replied -Gilles de Crohin, 'save for an equerry. He proposes to -return to Cambray this night.' -</p> - -<p> -<i>Monsieur</i> uttered a fretful exclamation, but already -Marguerite had interposed. -</p> - -<p> -'We cannot,' she said curtly, 'keep Messire de Montigny -on the doorstep, my dear brother. And you must remember -that I have your promise.' -</p> - -<p> -'Holy Virgin!' was <i>Monsieur's</i> only comment on this -timeful reminder. 'Was ever man so plagued before by a -woman who was not even his mistress, Gilles!' he added -peremptorily. -</p> - -<p> -'François!' admonished his sister sternly. -</p> - -<p> -'<i>Mon Dieu</i>, my dear!' he retorted. 'May I not speak -to Gilles now? Gilles, who is my best friend——' -</p> - -<p> -'Messire de Montigny is in the corridor,' she broke in -firmly. -</p> - -<p> -'I know! I know! Curse him! I only wished to order -Gilles—my best friend, Gilles—not to leave me in the lurch; -not to abandon me all alone between an impetuous sister -and a mulish Fleming.' -</p> - -<p> -'François!' she exclaimed. 'What folly!' -</p> - -<p> -'Gilles must remain in the room,' he declared, 'during the -interview.' -</p> - -<p> -'Impossible!' she affirmed hotly. 'Messire de Montigny -might not like it.' -</p> - -<p> -'Then I'll not see him——' -</p> - -<p> -Marguerite de Navarre was on the verge of tears. Vexation, -impatience, choler, were wellnigh choking her. -</p> - -<p> -'Very well!' she said at last, with a sigh of infinite -weariness. 'I pray you, Messire,' she added, turning to -Gilles, 'introduce Monseigneur le Baron d'Inchy's messenger -and remain in the room, as <i>Monsieur</i> bids you, during the -interview.' -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -II -</h4> - -<p> -Messire de Montigny was a short, stout, determined-looking -gentleman who, very obviously, despite his outward -show of deference to a scion of the house of France, had -received his instructions as to the manner in which he was -to deal with that procrastinating and indolent prince. He -had clearly come here resolved to be firm and not to yield -an inch in his demands, nor to allow any further delay in -the negotiations wherewith he had been entrusted. -</p> - -<p> -But with François, Duc d'Alençon et d'Anjou, a promise -given was not of necessity a promise kept. No one knew -that better than the sister who adored him, and whose -quasi-maternal love for him was not wholly free from -contempt. Therefore, all the while that Messire de Montigny -was paying his devoirs to <i>Monsieur</i> and to herself, all the -while that the preliminary flummery, the bowings and the -scrapings, the grandiloquent phrases and meaningless -compliments went on between the two men, Marguerite of -Navarre was watching her brother, noting with a sinking -of the heart every sign of peevish fretfulness upon that weak -and good-looking face, and of that eternal desire to put -decisions off, which she knew in this case would mean the -ruin of all her ambitious plans for him. At times, her -luminous dark eyes would exchange a glance of understanding -or of appeal with Gilles de Crohin who, silent and -apparently disinterested, stood in a corner of the room -quietly watching the comedy which was being enacted before -him. Marguerite de Navarre, whose sense of the ridiculous -was one of her keenest attributes, could well appreciate how -a man of Gilles' caustic humour would be amused at this -double-edged duel of temperaments. She could see how, -at <i>Monsieur's</i> perpetual parryings, Gilles' moustache would -bristle and his deep-set eyes twinkle with merriment; and -though she frowned on him for this impertinence, she could -not altogether blame him for it. There certainly was an -element of farce in the proceedings. -</p> - -<p> -'I have come for Monseigneur's answer,' Messire de -Montigny had declared with uncompromising energy. 'My -brother de Lalain and M. d'Inchy cannot, and will not, -wait!' -</p> - -<p> -'You Flemings are always in such a devil of a hurry!' -Monsieur had said, with an attempt at jocularity. -</p> - -<p> -'We have endured tyranny for close upon a century, -Monseigneur,' retorted de Montigny curtly. 'We have -been long-suffering; we can endure no longer.' -</p> - -<p> -'But, Holy Virgin, Messire!' exclaimed the Duke fretfully, -'ye cannot expect a man to risk his entire future in the turn -of a hand.' -</p> - -<p> -'Monsieur le Baron d'Inchy had the honour to send a -letter to Monseigneur two months ago,' rejoined the other. -'The Provinces have fought the whole might of Spain and -of Don Juan of Austria on their own initiative and on their -own resources, for the recovery of their ancient civil and -religious liberties. But they have fought unaided quite -long enough. We must have help and we must have a -leader. The Prince of Orange has his following in Holland. -We in the Cambrésis, in Hainault and Artois and Flanders -want a sovereign of our own—a sovereign who has power -and the might of a great kingdom and of powerful alliances -behind him. 'Our choice has fallen on <i>Monsieur</i>, Duc -d'Alençon and d'Anjou, own brother to the King of France. -Will he deign to accept the sovereignty of the United -Provinces of the Netherlands and give them the happiness -and the freedom which they seek?' -</p> - -<p> -With a certain rough dignity Messire de Montigny put one -knee to the ground and swept the floor with his plumed hat -ere he pressed his hand against his heart in token of loyalty -and obeisance. Marguerite de Navarre's beautiful face -became irradiated with a great joy. Her fine nostrils -quivered with excitement and she threw a look of triumph -on Messire Gilles, who had, in his appearance just then, -the solemnity of a Puck—and one of encouragement on -the beloved brother. But <i>Monsieur</i> looked as sullen and -as gloomy as he had done before. If there was a thing on -this earth which he hated more than any other, it was a -plain question which required a plain answer. He was -furious with Messire de Montigny for having asked a plain -question, furious with his sister for looking triumphant, -and furious with Gilles for seeming so amused. -</p> - -<p> -So he took refuge in moody silence, and Messire de Montigny, -with a flush of anger on his round face, quickly rose -to his feet. Even to one less keenly observant than was -the clever Queen of Navarre, it would have been obvious -that all these obsequious marks of deference, these -genuflexions and soft words were highly unpalatable to the envoy -of Monseigneur le Baron d'Inchy, governor of the Cambrésis. -They were proud folk, these Flemings—nobles, burgesses -and workers alike—and it had only been after very mature -deliberation and driven by stern necessity that they had -decided to call in a stranger to aid them in their distress. -The tyranny of the Spaniards had weighed heavily upon -them. One by one they saw their ancient privileges wrested -from them, whilst their liberty to worship in accordance -with the dictates of their conscience was filched from them -under unspeakable horrors and tyrannies. They had fought -on doggedly, often hopelessly, loth to call in outside aid -for fear of exchanging one oppressor for another, and a -while ago they had a goodly number of victories to their -credit. Orange had freed many provinces, and several cities -had driven the Spanish garrisons from out their gates. -M. le Baron d'Inchy had seized Cambray and the Cambrésis -and driven the Catholic Archbishop into exile. Flemish -governors were established in Hainault, Brabant, in Artois -and in Flanders; the Dutch were the masters in Holland, -Zeeland and Frise—a splendid achievement! For, remember -that these burghers and their untrained bands were -pitted against the finest military organization of the epoch. -</p> - -<p> -But lately, the Spaniards, alarmed at these reverses, had -sent fresh troops into the Netherlands, and Alexander -Farnese, Duke of Parma, their most distinguished soldier, had -obtained signal victories over the war-wearied Dutch and -Flemish troops. Since Orange had suffered a signal defeat -at Gembloux three years ago several cities had fallen back -once more under the Spanish yoke. It was time to call in -foreign aid. On the one hand, Elizabeth of England had -given assurances of money and of troops; on the other, -Marguerite of Navarre had made vague promises in the -name of the Duc d'Alençon. A Catholic prince was a bitter -pill to swallow for these staunch Protestants, but when -d'Inchy offered <i>Monsieur</i> the sovereignty of the Netherlands, -with immediate possession of the Cambrésis, of Hainault, -Artois and Flanders, he had first of all insisted—respectfully -but firmly—on certain guarantees: the guarantee which to -<i>Monsieur's</i> fastidious taste was like a bitter pill in the sugary -offer—a Flemish wife and a Protestant to boot—one who -would hold the new sovereign lord true to his promise to -uphold and protect the reformed faith. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -III -</h4> - -<p> -"I hate being forced into a marriage!" <i>Monsieur</i> repeated -for the third time, as he cast lowering looks upon the bowed -head of M. de Montigny. -</p> - -<p> -'There is no question of force, Monseigneur,' rejoined the -latter firmly. 'M. d'Inchy, speaking in the name of our -provinces, had the honour to propose a bargain, which -Monseigneur will accept or reject as he thinks fit.' -</p> - -<p> -'But this Jacqueline—er—Jacqueline——?' queried -Monsieur disdainfully. -</p> - -<p> -'Jacqueline de Broyart, Dame de Morchipont, Duchesse et -Princesse de Ramose, d'Espienne et de Wargny,' broke in -Messire de Montigny with stern pride, "is as beautiful and -pure as she is rich and noble. She is worthy to be the -consort of a King.' -</p> - -<p> -'But I have never seen the lady!' argued <i>Monsieur</i> -irritably. -</p> - -<p> -'Jacqueline de Broyart,' retorted de Montigny curtly, -'cannot be trotted out for Monseigneur's inspection like a -filly who is put up for sale!' -</p> - -<p> -'Who talks of trotting her out?' said <i>Monsieur</i>. '<i>Mon -Dieu</i>, man! Can I not even see my future wife? In -matters of beauty tastes differ, and——' -</p> - -<p> -'You will admit, Messire,' here interposed Marguerite -quickly, seeing that at <i>Monsieur's</i> tone of thinly-veiled -contempt frowns of anger, dark as thunder-clouds, were -gathering on Messire de Montigny's brow. 'You will admit -that it is only just that my brother should see the lady -ere he finally decides.' -</p> - -<p> -'Jacqueline, Madame la Reyne,' riposted de Montigny -gruffly, 'is wooed by every rich and puissant seigneur in -four kingdoms. Princes of the blood in Germany and Austria -and Spain, noble lords of England and of France are at her -feet. She is a mere child—scarce nineteen years of -age—but she has a woman's heart and a woman's pride. She is -my cousin's child; d'Inchy and my brother are her guardians. -They would not allow an affront to be put upon her.' -</p> - -<p> -'An affront, Messire?' queried Marguerite coldly. 'Who -spoke of an affront to the Duc d'Alençon's future wife?' -</p> - -<p> -'If Monseigneur sees the child,' argued de Montigny -stiffly, 'and then turns against her, she is quite old enough -to look upon that fact as an affront.' -</p> - -<p> -'The devil take you for a stiff-necked Fleming, Messire!' -quoth the Duke angrily. -</p> - -<p> -'Then Monseigneur refuses?' was de Montigny's calm -retort, even though his rough voice was shaking with -suppressed choler. -</p> - -<p> -'No, no, Messire!' once more broke in Marguerite hastily. -'Did Monseigneur say that he refused?' -</p> - -<p> -'Monseigneur seems disinclined to accept,' rejoined de -Montigny. 'And so much hesitation is a slur cast upon -the honour of a noble Flemish lady who is my kinswoman.' -</p> - -<p> -'Believe me, Messire,' said Marguerite gently and with -unerring tact, determined to conciliate at all costs, 'that -we of the house of Valois hold all honour in high esteem. -Meseems that you and my brother do but misunderstand one -another. Will you allow a woman's wit to bridge over the -difficulty?' -</p> - -<p> -'If you please, Madame,' replied de Montigny stiffly. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -IV -</h4> - -<p> -Marguerite de Navarre gave a short sigh of satisfaction. -One look of warning only did she cast on her brother, and -with an almost imperceptible movement of finger to lip -she enjoined him to remain silent and to leave the matter -in her hands. François d'Anjou shrugged his shoulders -and smothered a yawn. The whole matter was eminently -distasteful to him, and gladly would he have thrown up -the promised throne and be rid of all these serious questions -which bored him to tears. -</p> - -<p> -De Montigny stood erect and stern; his attitude remained -deferential, but also unyielding. He was deeply offended -in the person of the child who in his sight stood for all that -was most noble and most desirable in the Netherlands. The -indifference with which the offer of such a brilliant alliance -had been received by this Prince of France had angered the -stiff-necked Fleming beyond measure. But Marguerite, -feeling the difficulties around her, was now on her mettle. -None knew better than she how to make a man unbend—even -if he be a bitter enemy, which de Montigny certainly -was not. -</p> - -<p> -'Messire,' she said with that gentle dignity which became -her so well, 'I pray you be not angered with my brother. -He has had much to worry him of late. Indeed, indeed,' -she continued earnestly, 'his heart is entirely given over to -your magnificent country and he is proud and honoured -to have been chosen by you as your future Sovereign -Lord.' -</p> - -<p> -But to this conciliating harangue de Montigny made no -reply, and Marguerite resumed, after a slight pause. -</p> - -<p> -'Perhaps you do not know, Messire, that the King of -France, our brother, hath not such goodwill towards his -kindred as they would wish, and that, fearing that <i>Monsieur</i> -would be overproud of your offer and would nurture further -ambitious plans, he did order <i>Monsieur's</i> arrest, thereby -causing us much delay.' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, your Majesty,' replied de Montigny curtly, 'I knew -all that. But the offer hath been made to Monseigneur -now—and I still await his answer.' -</p> - -<p> -'His answer is yes, Messire!' said Marguerite firmly. -</p> - -<p> -'A grudging "yes," forsooth,' quoth de Montigny with an -impatient shrug of the shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -'An eager "yes," an you'll believe me,' retorted Marguerite. -'All that he asks is to see the noble Dame Jacqueline -de Broyart and to pay her his devoirs ere he is formally -affianced to her.' -</p> - -<p> -'Hang it all!' quoth <i>Monsieur</i> resolutely. 'You cannot -expect a man to wed a woman whom he has never seen!' -</p> - -<p> -'A man in Monseigneur's position,' retorted de Montigny -gruffly, 'must do many things which humbler folk can afford -to leave undone, and I have explained my objections to -that plan; so that if Madame la Reyne hath none other to -offer——' -</p> - -<p> -'Nay! but I entreat you to listen to me, Messire,' urged -Marguerite with exemplary patience. 'And you, François,' -she added, turning to her brother, who at de Montigny's -last words had muttered an angry oath under his breath, -'I beg that you will let me unfold my plan ere you combat -it. Messire,' she continued earnestly, once more addressing -the Flemish lord, 'let me assure you again that I both -understand and appreciate your objection and, on my soul -I never dreamed of suggesting that so noble and great a -lady as Madame Jacqueline de Broyart should, as you justly -remark, be trotted out for the inspection of Monseigneur, -like a filly which is put up for sale.' -</p> - -<p> -'Well, then——?' retorted de Montigny. -</p> - -<p> -'Tell me, Messire,' she interposed irrelevantly, 'how old -exactly is Madame Jacqueline?' -</p> - -<p> -'Not yet twenty,' he replied. 'But I do not see——' -</p> - -<p> -'You will in a moment,' quoth she with a smile. 'Twenty, -you said?' -</p> - -<p> -'Not quite.' -</p> - -<p> -'And beautiful, of course?' -</p> - -<p> -'Ask the men of Hainault and of Flanders,' was his proud -reply. 'They will tell you how beautiful she is.' -</p> - -<p> -'Twenty—not quite—and beautiful,' said Marguerite of -Navarre slowly. 'And of a romantic turn of mind, shall we -say, as young girls so often are?' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, as to that,' replied de Montigny with a puzzled -frown, 'I dare swear that she hath a romantic turn of mind. -She certainly would not allow herself to be offered up for -sale like a bundle of goods. Therefore——' -</p> - -<p> -'Easy, easy, Messire!' urged the Queen gently. 'I -entreat you to reply to my questions without choler. Are we -not both striving to find a way out of an impasse which might -wreck the very welfare of your country and Monseigneur -d'Inchy's most cherished scheme?' -</p> - -<p> -De Montigny sighed impatiently. 'You are right, -Madame la Reyne,' he said grudgingly. 'I pray you continue. -I'll not lose my temper again. My word on it.' -</p> - -<p> -'You were about to assure me, Messire,' resumed -Marguerite gently, 'that Madame Jacqueline is as romantic -as she is beautiful.' -</p> - -<p> -'Jacqueline has been spoilt and adulated,' replied de -Montigny, determined to speak calmly. 'Poets have -dedicated their verses to her. Musicians have sung her -praises——' -</p> - -<p> -'And love-sick swains have died of love for her, or sighed -impassioned tirades beneath her casement-window,' concluded -Marguerite, with a smile which was so winning that, despite -himself, after a moment or two, it found a pale reflex in de -Montigny's stern face. -</p> - -<p> -'Who should know better than the Queen of Navarre,' -he retorted, with a crude effort at gallantry, 'the power -which beauty wields over all men?' -</p> - -<p> -'Very well, then, Messire,' quoth she gaily. 'Listen to -my plan, for I swear 'tis a good one, since it will marry your -pride to my brother's hesitation. I propose that <i>Monsieur</i> le -Duc d'Anjou shall first approach Madame Jacqueline under -an assumed name. She hath never seen him—he is totally -unknown in these parts; his incognito could therefore be -easily kept up.' -</p> - -<p> -'I don't quite understand,' muttered de Montigny with a -frown. -</p> - -<p> -'You will in a moment,' she rejoined. 'I propose, then, -that <i>Monsieur</i> shall enact a part—the part of an unknown -and noble prince who hath become secretly enamoured of -Madame Jacqueline. I would suggest that he should appear -before her closely masked and begin his part by sighing -dolefully beneath her casement-window. Thus, at the -outset, Madame Jacqueline, being what she is—romantic -and not yet twenty—will feel an interest in this unknown -swain. Her curiosity will be aroused, and she will not be -loth to grant him the interview for which he will have sighed -and begged in all humility.' -</p> - -<p> -'But that is sheer folly, Madame!' broke in de Montigny, -who had been at great pains to check his growing truculence. -</p> - -<p> -'Folly?' she queried blandly. 'Why?' -</p> - -<p> -'Because—because——' he argued gruffly. -</p> - -<p> -'You promised on your honour, Messire,' she admonished -gaily, 'that you would not again lose your temper.' -</p> - -<p> -'But the folly of it!' -</p> - -<p> -'Again I ask you—why folly?' -</p> - -<p> -'Jacqueline is not a foolish child. She is not like to -be taken in by so transparent a comedy.' -</p> - -<p> -'It will not be transparent, Messire. Under my guidance -the comedy will be exceedingly well acted. Madame -Jacqueline will never know that her love-sick swain is -the Duke of Anjou.' -</p> - -<p> -'Then 'tis greater folly still!' -</p> - -<p> -'Ah, that I swear it is not!' retorted Marguerite de -Navarre hotly. 'Your Jacqueline is not twenty—she is -proud and beautiful and romantic. Well! give her some -romance and she'll thank you for it presently on her knees.' -</p> - -<p> -'But——' protested de Montigny. -</p> - -<p> -'Is not the whole thing simplicity in itself?' she broke -in eagerly. 'The fame of Madame Jacqueline's beauty hath -spread far and wide; what more rational than that a noble -prince—too insignificant or too poor to enter the lists for -her hand—should choose a romantic method to approach -her? After all, what are we all striving for? That -<i>Monsieur</i> shall see the lovely Jacqueline without her knowing -that he proposes to woo her. If, in addition to that, we -cause the two young people to fall in love with one another, -we shall have done well; whilst, on the other hand, if, after -having seen her, <i>Monsieur</i> retires from the candidature, the -susceptibilities of the Flemish nation and of Madame -Jacqueline will have been safeguarded.' -</p> - -<p> -'How?' -</p> - -<p> -'The unknown prince can vanish as mysteriously as he -came. The story can reach Madame Jacqueline's ear that -he was found killed by some other jealous swain outside -her garden-gate.' -</p> - -<p> -'Folly, Madame! Folly, I say!' protested de Montigny, -perhaps a shade less forcibly than he had done before. -</p> - -<p> -'Nay, then, 'tis a blessed folly, Messire, which oft -outweighs counsels of wisdom.' -</p> - -<p> -'But——' -</p> - -<p> -'Ah! but me no more buts, Messire! Ye cannot bring -forth one objection which I cannot easily combat. Think -on it! A romantic girl, whose life will be brightened by -this pretty adventure!' -</p> - -<p> -'Perchance——' -</p> - -<p> -'Perchance what?' -</p> - -<p> -'She fall in love with the unknown swain.' -</p> - -<p> -'So much the better, when she discovers he is her future -lord.' -</p> - -<p> -Then, as de Montigny really appeared to be struggling -between consent and refusal, and doubt, anger, contempt, -irresolution were alternately depicted in his rugged face, -she continued persuasively: -</p> - -<p> -'Think, Messire, how you safeguard your niece's feelings, -her just pride, her maidenly reserve. <i>Monsieur</i> le Duc -d'Anjou will either himself fall madly in love with Madame -Jacqueline—in which case you will have added the leaven -of passion to the stodgy dough of matrimony—or else he'll -withdraw from the candidature, unknown, unsuspected; -and the child will only have one pleasant dream the more -to add to her illusions.' -</p> - -<p> -Montigny was yielding. Who could, indeed, resist for -long the insinuating tongue of Marguerite of Navarre, the -eager glitter of her eyes, the strength of her will and of her -personality. The sober-minded, stiff-necked and somewhat -slow-witted Fleming felt himself literally swept off his feet -in this whirlpool of adventure and of intrigue, and his -language was not sufficiently glib to meet objection with -objection, to parry or to thrust in this unequal duel of wits. -Perhaps—had he not desired so passionately the alliance -which he had been sent to conclude, had he been less firmly -convinced that a union with France would prove the salvation -of his people and of the country which he worshipped—he -might have opposed an obstinate and gruff refusal to -Marguerite's subtle scheme. But as it was, his resistance -was soon disarmed; she even managed to conquer the -irritation which <i>Monsieur's</i> very personality had aroused in -his mind. -</p> - -<p> -'We have not yet heard,' he said at last, 'what Monseigneur -le duc d'Anjou hath to say on the matter.' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh!' <i>Monsieur</i> hastened to say with mock sincerity, -'all that I have to say is that throughout my life I have -from time to time and on many a momentous occasion, -registered on oath that I would never be affianced to a -woman whom I had not previously learned to love.' -</p> - -<p> -'You will own, Messire,' broke in Marguerite gently, 'that -this is a laudable sentiment.' -</p> - -<p> -Nor did she think it desirable to let Messire de Montigny -know that her unreliable brother had vowed but half an hour -ago that if a wife were thrust upon him now he would, an -he did not like her, repudiate her even at the foot of the -altar. Shifty and irresponsible in most things, she knew -him well enough to understand that in matters which affected -himself and his desires, he would prove dangerous, obstinate -and cruel. -</p> - -<p> -'On my soul!' added <i>Monsieur</i> with well-assumed -earnestness, 'I do assure you, Messire, that I knew nothing -of my sister's project.' -</p> - -<p> -'There was no time to put it before you, François,' -rejoined Marguerite. 'It arose in my brain even while you -parleyed together with Messire de Montigny and seemed -unable to come to an understanding.' -</p> - -<p> -'Then what says Monseigneur now?' reiterated the -Flemish lord curtly. -</p> - -<p> -'Well!' drawled <i>Monsieur</i> in his usual indecisive way, -'I say—I say that——' -</p> - -<p> -'François!' admonished Marguerite sharply. -</p> - -<p> -He felt himself driven into a corner, from which procrastination -would no longer free him. In a manner the proposed -adventure suited his temperament, and in any case it would -help to put off the final and irrevocable decision. Therefore -he was willing to fall in with it. Sentimental dalliance was -an art which he knew to his finger-tips, and there was much -in his sister's project which pleased his lazy, pulpy nature. -To sigh beneath a woman's window, to woo a woman's love -with honeyed words beneath a silken mask, to plan secret -meetings and steal to lovers' trysts at dead of night, had -always been an absorbing occupation for this degenerate -prince. Now he felt de Montigny's stern gaze fixed upon -him and his sister's admonitions rang in his ears. He knew -that he had worn her love and patience almost to a breaking -thread. He threw a final appealing look on Gilles de Crohin, -but the latter's glance of amusement appeared as an -encouragement. Well, Gilles would know! Gilles would -appreciate! He, too, loved masks and casement-windows and -fair women, tearful with love. Gilles also loved fighting, -so he could do that, if any of it barred the way to <i>Monsieur's</i> -comfort and peace. -</p> - -<p> -'François!' came once more, appealing yet severe, from -Marguerite of Navarre. -</p> - -<p> -'What says Monseigneur?' reiterated de Montigny for the -third time. -</p> - -<p> -'I say that you have left me no choice, Messire,' quoth -François due d'Anjou at last. 'It shall be as my sister -desires.' -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -V -</h4> - -<p> -What was said after this is not much to the point. Enough -that de Montigny yielded—very reluctantly, very slowly, be -it admitted—but still, he did yield, and Marguerite, Queen -of Navarre, was triumphant because she had got her way -and because she would be allowed now to weave one of those -subtle and sentimental plots which was as the breath of -life to her inventive brain. She was also triumphant because -she felt that nothing now stood in the way of the ambitious -plans which she had framed for her favourite brother. She -was triumphant because she felt the romance which she -had concocted for his benefit would end in substantial gain -for him—a richly-dowered wife and a sovereignty as rich -as a crown. Then, at last, when she had won Messire de -Montigny over absolutely and completely with her ready wit -and her glib tongue, she extended a gracious hand to the -somewhat shamefaced Fleming. 'Ah, Messire!' she said. -'You little realize how much you have done for your country -this day!' -</p> - -<p> -'I certainly have sacrificed my sanity and my better -judgment,' he said gruffly. But he did bend the knee, and -kissed the delicately-perfumed hand. -</p> - -<p> -'And Madame Jacqueline will be at Cambray?' she asked. -</p> - -<p> -'She is at Cambray now,' he replied. -</p> - -<p> -'Then <i>Monsieur</i> had best repair thither right away. You -yourself will be there, Messire?' -</p> - -<p> -'Not I, alas, Madame!' he replied. 'After I have seen -my brother and d'Inchy and obtained their consent to this -wild-cat scheme, I join the army of the Prince of Orange at -Utrecht.' -</p> - -<p> -'But you'll see that my brother has a safe conduct and -is sure of a welcome from Monseigneur d'Inchy?' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh! d'Inchy will consent and so will my brother. They -will make Monseigneur quite welcome,' rejoined de Montigny -with a sigh. 'All of us would do much, Madame, in order -to bring about this alliance, on which we have set our -hearts.' -</p> - -<p> -He was as wax now in the hands of this fascinating -intriguer. In his heart of hearts he knew that sober -reflection would come anon; he knew that it would take much -persuasion ere his brother, and the other sober-minded -Flemings who ruled the destinies of a great nation and of a -rich heiress, would finally consent to these wild and romantic -plans which had found their origin in an imaginative woman's -brain; he knew that, mayhap, when he returned to Cambray, -he would have to argue in his turn as the Queen of -Navarre had argued with him. But in the meanwhile, now -that he had given in, he was man enough and gentleman -enough to fulfil his share of the bargain loyally and -completely. -</p> - -<p> -'That's brave!' exclaimed Marguerite. 'And I entreat -you, lose no time. <i>Monsieur</i> could start for Cambray this -night.' -</p> - -<p> -'Would Monseigneur go alone?' queried de Montigny. -</p> - -<p> -'No, no,' broke in the Duke fretfully. 'I could not go -unattended. Think on it, Messire! A prince of the house -of France!' -</p> - -<p> -'Monseigneur would not, I presume, enter Cambray -incognito with a retinue of men-at-arms,' retorted the other -with a grim smile. -</p> - -<p> -'No! not a retinue,' he rejoined unperturbed. 'I'll have -Gilles with me and a serving-man; that is all.' -</p> - -<p> -'Gilles?' -</p> - -<p> -'Gilles de Crohin, Sire de Froidmont,' interposed Marguerite, -as with a graceful gesture of the hand she indicated -Gilles, who still stood silent and impassive in the corner of -the room. 'This gallant gentleman is devoted to Monsieur's -service and accompanies him wherever he goes.' -</p> - -<p> -De Montigny's sharp, scrutinizing glance swept approvingly -over Gilles de Crohin's martial figure. -</p> - -<p> -'Very well then, so be it,' he said. 'I will give a safe -conduct to Monseigneur under any name he will choose to -assume, and one to Messire Gilles de Crohin, Sire de Froidmont, -who will travel as his equerry. Is that what Madame -la Reyne desires?' -</p> - -<p> -'It is! It is!' cried Marguerite joyfully. 'Ah!' she -added as she directed a reproachful glance on her brother, -'dilatoriness is not a part of your method, Messire de -Montigny!' -</p> - -<p> -'<i>Mon Dieu</i>, my good Margot!' quoth <i>Monsieur</i> tartly. -'You do not give Messire sufficient time to breathe.' -</p> - -<p> -'Who wants to breathe,' she retorted gaily, 'when the -destinies of kingdoms are at stake? The safe conducts, -Messire! The safe conducts, I entreat! Why not sign -them here and now?' -</p> - -<p> -She jumped up from her chair, eager, young, full of vitality. -In a moment, with her own dainty hands, she had placed -ink-horn, sand, a quill, a sheet of paper upon the table. -</p> - -<p> -'The safe conduct, Messire!' she reiterated excitedly. -'I vow that I'll don male attire and start for Cambray with -my brother this night!' -</p> - -<p> -And she would have done it, too, had not prudence -dictated otherwise. Her fine, clever face, however, was -well known in this part of Belgium. She had been at -Cambray but a few weeks ago, moving heaven and earth and -stirring up those heavy Flemings to activity on behalf of -her brother. But she would have loved to be of that -adventurous party. The conception of it had been born -in her brain; it was her thing, her creation, her child, and -she fretted at the thought that her brother's indolence, -his shiftlessness and indecision might even yet jeopardize -these glorious projects which she had formed. -</p> - -<p> -'Sainte Vierge and chorus of angels, grant me patience!' -she murmured as she watched, frowning and fretful, the -deliberate movements of M. de Montigny. The Duc d'Anjou -chortled quietly to himself. He loved to see his impetuous -sister fuming over the dilatoriness of another, and now he -gave a low cackle of delight when the Fleming first drew -a chair slowly to the table, then sat down and settled himself -to write. He next took up the quill pen, examined it, -tested it on his thumb-nail, turned the sheet of paper over -and over. Obviously he was not very much used to rapid -caligraphy, and Marguerite's temper was oozing out of her -very finger-tips as she watched that quill pen travelling with -ponderous slowness along the paper. -</p> - -<p> -'In what name shall I make out the safe-conduct?' he -asked presently. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, ye gods!' exclaimed Marguerite impatiently. 'Any -name, Messire—or leave the name in blank——' -</p> - -<p> -'I cannot do that,' rejoined de Montigny deliberately. -'M. d'Inchy, who is governor of the city and of the province, -would not wish it. And since Monseigneur desires to enter -Cambray incognito——' -</p> - -<p> -'Any name will do,' she retorted. -</p> - -<p> -'Still, I must have one——' -</p> - -<p> -'Then, in God's name, make out the safe-conduct in the -name of Monseigneur le Prince de Froidmont, travelling -with his equerry Messire Gilles de Crohin and with his -serving-man. Will that satisfy Monseigneur le Baron -d'Inchy?' -</p> - -<p> -De Montigny thought the matter over for a moment or -two ere he replied, wholly unperturbed, 'I think so.' -</p> - -<p> -And thus did the document stand. A permit to enter -the City of Cambray was granted to Monseigneur le Prince -de Froidmont, to his equerry Messire Gilles de Crohin and -to his serving-man, by Edmond, Sire de Montigny, acting on -behalf of Roger, Baron d'Inchy, governor of the province -of Cambrésis, and safe conduct was assured them on their -way thither.[<a id="chap03fn1text"></a><a href="#chap03fn1">1</a>] -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap03fn1"></a> -[<a href="#chap03fn1text">1</a>] This document which Messire de Montigny made out and signed -on that memorable occasion is still preserved among the archives -of the City of Cambray. At any rate, it was still extant in the -spring of 1914, when the writer of this veracious chronicle was -granted a sight of it. Since then the hordes of the modern Huns -have swept over the fair lands of Belgium and France. They -may have destroyed these archives as they did so much of what -had historical and romantic interest. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -'Well! you have your wish, my dear sister,' was the Duc -d'Anjou's sole comment as he saw the look of impatience on -Marguerite's fair face give place to one of triumph and of -joy. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap04"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER IV -<br /><br /> -HOW <i>MONSIEUR</i> KEPT HIS WORD -</h3> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -I -</h4> - -<p> -When M. de Montigny—after much ponderous -leavetaking—finally took his departure, accompanied -by Messire Gilles de Crohin, it is positively averred that -Marguerite, Queen of Navarre, forgot for a moment her -position and her dignity and danced around the narrow -room like a child who has had its way after much fighting -and arguing. It is even said that she dragged her dearly-loved -François up from his chair and that, seizing both his -hands, she forced him to join her in a whirl which literally -swept him off his feet, raised a cloud of dust from the old -wooden floor, and finally sent him sprawling and dizzy, and -thoroughly out of temper, up against the table, from whence -he poured a volley of abuse upon his devoted sister. -</p> - -<p> -But I have oft marvelled if this story be true, for, of a -truth, there was no one there to witness these events, and -Queen Margot herself never put them on record. But there -was Messire Gilles, and where he was at the moment I, for -one, cannot say. He did accompany Messire de Montigny -as far as the courtyard, and saw that noble Fleming ride off -with an obviously heavy heart, after what had only been a -partially successful errand. We are not going to suppose -that Messire Gilles paused on his way back to the apartments -of his princely master in order to listen at the keyhole. He -was more like to have kicked open the door with scant -ceremony and seen the young Queen of Navarre dancing a -rigadoon in the middle of the floor with her reluctant -brother. Certain it is, that anon he did stand there under -the lintel, coughing and spluttering as the dust caught in -his throat, and coughing so loudly, be it said, that the noise -which he made drowned some of <i>Monsieur's</i> most sanguinary -expletives. The next moment he had once more entered -the room and closed the door behind him; and Marguerite -paused in her mad dance in order to clap her hands gleefully -together. -</p> - -<p> -'Ah, Messire Gilles!' she exclaimed excitedly. 'Is it not -wonderful? Is it not great? All arranged, and both -Monsieur and that tiresome Fleming satisfied! Is it not a -triumph, I say?' -</p> - -<p> -'A triumph, indeed, your Majesty!' replied Gilles with a -grim smile. ''Tis only our chief actor, methinks, who doth -not look overjoyed.' -</p> - -<p> -'I know,' rejoined Marguerite, with a sigh. 'But, then, -Monsieur never really looks pleased. So I entreat you, -Messire, remain with him now and make all arrangements -for the journey to-morrow. Nay! 'twere far better you -started this very night, slept and rested at St. Quentin -and arrived at Cambray the day after to-morrow. I leave -you with Messire Gilles, François,' she added, turning to -Monsieur who, ill-humoured and still growling like a frowsy -dog, was putting his rumpled toilet in order. 'Let him -make all arrangements for your journey. He is always of -good counsel.' -</p> - -<p> -'Good counsel!' muttered <i>Monsieur</i>. 'Good counsel! -I am sick to death of good counsels. Had I been left to -myself——' -</p> - -<p> -'Nothing would have happened, <i>c'est entendu</i>,' she riposted -gaily. 'Nay! you'll not damp my ardour again, François; -and you cannot deny that I have satisfied M. de Montigny -whilst keeping my solemn promise to you. So I leave you -now with Messire Gilles. The way is prepared. And, -remember,' she added earnestly, 'that you are pledged to -me as I was to you. I have fulfilled my share of the bargain. -If you fail me now, I will never look upon your face again!' -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -II -</h4> - -<p> -As soon as Marguerite de Navarre had gone from the -room, Gilles de Crohin drew a folded missive from inside -his doublet and handed it to Monsieur. -</p> - -<p> -'Just came by messenger from Paris,' he said curtly. -</p> - -<p> -<i>Monsieur</i> snatched eagerly at the missive. It had been -carefully folded into a tiny compass, tied with a shell-pink -ribbon and sealed with mauve-coloured wax. <i>Monsieur</i> -broke the seal and read the letter. A flush—which might -have been one of pleasure, of excitement or of anger, or -of all three combined—spread over his face. He read the -letter again, and a dark frown appeared between his brows. -Then he looked up into the face of the one faithful friend -whom his many treacheries had not driven from his -side. -</p> - -<p> -'Gilles,' he said dolefully, 'I cannot go to Cambray.' -</p> - -<p> -'I thought as much, Monseigneur,' replied Gilles dryly. -'That letter is from Madame de Marquette.' -</p> - -<p> -'It is, my good Gilles,' sighed <i>Monsieur</i>. 'It is!' Then -as Gilles said nothing, he added fretfully: 'She had promised -to let me know as soon as Monsieur le Comte, her husband, -would be absent from Paris.' -</p> - -<p> -'Ah!' was Gilles' simple comment. 'And is M. le -Comte de Marquette absent from Paris at this moment?' -</p> - -<p> -'Cooling his heels in the dungeons of Vincennes, my good -Gilles,' replied <i>Monsieur</i> lightly. -</p> - -<p> -'Ah!' uttered Gilles once more; this time without any -comment. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes. I let His Majesty, my brother, know indirectly -of certain doings of Monsieur de Marquette. I have no -doubt, therefore, that that estimable worthy is incarcerated -at Vincennes by now.' -</p> - -<p> -'Under a false charge of conspiracy?' -</p> - -<p> -'False? No!' retorted <i>Monsieur</i>. 'Doth he not conspire -to keep his charming wife a virtual prisoner in his own -palace?' -</p> - -<p> -'Therefore he is to be kept a real prisoner under a -denunciation from <i>Monsieur</i> le Duc d'Alençon and d'Anjou,' -riposted Gilles dryly. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh! not a denunciation, my good Gilles!' said <i>Monsieur</i>, -wholly unperturbed. 'I only gave His Majesty a hint that -M. de Marquette was not quite so faithful a subject as one -would desire.' -</p> - -<p> -'And the hint has landed M. de Marquette in Vincennes -rightly enough.' -</p> - -<p> -'Apparently,' concluded <i>Monsieur</i> placidly, as he held -the delicately-scented missive of Madame de Marquette to -his nose. 'So you see, my good Gilles,' he continued after -a slight pause, 'how inconvenient it will be for me to go -a-wooing a ponderous Flemish wench just now. Madame -de Marquette is so dainty, so exquisite, so—so—what shall -I say? ... What would you do, now, Gilles?' he added, -with a sudden change of tone, 'if you were in my shoes?' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, I, Monseigneur,' quoth Gilles, with a careless shrug -of the shoulders. 'Not being a prince of the blood I would -probably stick to my promise and go and woo the Flemish -wench at Cambray.' -</p> - -<p> -'I believe you would, you dog!' retorted <i>Monsieur</i> with -a yawn. 'And then hurry back to Paris, eh, in order to -console Madame de Marquette?' -</p> - -<p> -'Possibly, Monseigneur,' concluded Gilles simply. -</p> - -<p> -'Well, then, the only difference 'twixt you and me, my -dear Gilles—that is, 'twixt your moral sentiments and mine—is -that I'll hie me first to console Madame de Marquette, -and having done that, I'll—I'll——' -</p> - -<p> -'Gravely offend the most devoted of sisters, Queen -Marguerite of Navarre,' broke in Gilles quickly. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes,' admitted <i>Monsieur</i>. 'I imagine that dear Margot -will be in one of her most fretting humours when she finds -that I am half-way to Paris instead of to Cambray. She -hath vowed that if I fail her now in her schemes she'll never -look on my face again. And she won't—for at least six -months,' he added peevishly. 'Trust her for that! Margot -is nothing if not obstinate! And my chance of getting a -rich wife and some rich provinces of these accursed -Netherlands will have vanished for ever. Ah, Gilles! my good -Gilles!' he concluded, with naïve induction. 'You see -what comes of it, if a man allows himself to be overruled by -women!' -</p> - -<p> -'Well!' retorted the other with a careless laugh. -'Meseems that Monseigneur hath not much cause to quarrel -with his fate this time. King of the Netherlands!' he -exclaimed, and gave a long, low whistle of appreciation. -''Tis no small matter——' -</p> - -<p> -'Bah!' rejoined <i>Monsieur</i> with a shrug of the shoulders. -'To be a king among these dull-witted, slow-going Flemings -is not altogether an enviable existence. Would you care -for it, Gilles?' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, I, Monseigneur?' riposted Gilles gaily. 'I have so -few kingly attributes.' -</p> - -<p> -'Better to be Duc d'Alençon in Paris, eh, than King in -Antwerp or in Ghent? Brrr!' added <i>Monsieur</i>, with a -mock shudder. 'Think of the Flemish women, my good -man!' -</p> - -<p> -'I have thought of them, Monseigneur,' replied Gilles -dryly, 'once or twice since we came into Flanders.' -</p> - -<p> -'Well! and what did you think of them?' -</p> - -<p> -'That God has fashioned uglier ones.' -</p> - -<p> -'Where?' -</p> - -<p> -'In many places—even in Paris.' -</p> - -<p> -'Not often, Gilles.' -</p> - -<p> -'I'll grant that, Monseigneur, an you command.' -</p> - -<p> -'Now this Jacqueline, for instance——' -</p> - -<p> -'Madame Jacqueline, Monseigneur?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes!' And Monseigneur sighed. 'I have got to marry -her, Gilles, if I wish for the sovereignty of the Netherlands.' -</p> - -<p> -'Messire de Montigny hath been at pains to tell us, -Monseigneur, that Madame Jacqueline is very beautiful—very -beautiful, an it please you.' -</p> - -<p> -'It would please me if she were beautiful. But have you -ever seen a beautiful Fleming, Gilles?' -</p> - -<p> -Gilles de Crohin was silent. -</p> - -<p> -'Have you, Gilles?' insisted the Duke. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, Monseigneur,' replied Gilles curtly. 'Once.' -</p> - -<p> -'The devil you did! Where?' -</p> - -<p> -'In the land of dreams, Monseigneur.' -</p> - -<p> -'Then it could not have been Madame Jacqueline. She is -reality, alas! Ponderous reality, I fear! I have got to woo -her, Gilles.' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, Monseigneur.' -</p> - -<p> -'Under a mask and an assumed name.' -</p> - -<p> -'No better way hath yet been found for wooing a wench.' -</p> - -<p> -'I shall have to sing and sigh beneath a casement, and -by the light of the moon risk breaking my neck in trying to -climb up to a window.' -</p> - -<p> -''Twill not be the first time Monseigneur hath done -any of these things, and with a less worthy object to boot.' -</p> - -<p> -'But this time, Gilles, I might be so much better employed -in consoling Madame de Marquette for the absence of her -lord.' -</p> - -<p> -'Whereas, now, Monseigneur will have to send word back -by the messenger—who, by the way, still waits below—that -the denunciation against M. de Marquette was an error, and -that you desire his immediate release.' -</p> - -<p> -'Gilles!' retorted <i>Monsieur</i> coolly, 'have you become an -idiot?' -</p> - -<p> -'I didn't think so, Monseigneur.' -</p> - -<p> -'Very well, then, do not talk as one. M. de Marquette -cannot be better occupied than in cooling his heels at -Vincennes. I am going to Paris, Gilles, in order to explain -this to a charming grass-widow.' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, Monseigneur. When?' -</p> - -<p> -'To-night.' -</p> - -<p> -'Monseigneur goes to Paris to-night?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes. I have said so.' -</p> - -<p> -'And Monseigneur means it?' -</p> - -<p> -'<i>Mon Dieu</i>! Of course I mean it! You don't suppose -that I am going to allow that exquisite Madame de Marquette -to pine away in solitude, do you?' -</p> - -<p> -'But Madame Jacqueline, Monseigneur?' protested Gilles -de Crohin. 'The crown of the Netherlands——' -</p> - -<p> -'Madame Jacqueline may go to the devil, Gilles, and the -crown of the Netherlands after her——' -</p> - -<p> -'But, Madame la Reyne——!' -</p> - -<p> -'Ah! that is another matter. My dear sister can go to -the devil if she likes, but I cannot send her thither. You -must remain here and explain matters to her, Gilles.' -</p> - -<p> -'I, Monseigneur?' exclaimed Gilles, very much crestfallen -at this prospect. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes. Not to-night, of course. To-morrow morning. I -shall be a long way off by then—too far for her to run -after me and bring me back like a whipped schoolboy; -which, I doubt not, she were quite capable of doing! Once -I get to Paris, I'll take care that she does not find me, -and she'll have to pacify these tiresome Flemings as best -she can.' -</p> - -<p> -Gilles de Crohin looked down for a moment or two on -the sprawling figure of the master whom he served—the -long, loose limbs stretched out lazily, the narrow shoulders -decked in exquisite satin, the perfumed beard, the delicate -hands, the full, sensual lips and weak chin and jaw which -characterized this last descendant of the Valois. But not -a line of his own strong, rugged face betrayed just what -he thought, and after a while he resumed in his dry, quiet -way: -</p> - -<p> -'I doubt, Monseigneur, that the tiresome Flemings will -allow themselves to be pacified—nor will Madame la Reyne -de Navarre, I'm thinking,' he muttered under his bristling -moustache. -</p> - -<p> -'She must, and they must, my good Gilles,' riposted -<i>Monsieur</i> airily; and, with a wide gesture of his beringed -hand, he appeared to wave aside all the obstacles which -threatened the even course of his path of pleasure. '<i>Mordieu</i>, -man! If you are going to raise difficulties——' he -said. -</p> - -<p> -'The difficulties are there, Monseigneur. I am not raising -them.' -</p> - -<p> -'Well, then, you will have to smoothe them down for -me, that's all! What do I pay you for?' he added roughly. -</p> - -<p> -'I was not aware that Monseigneur was paying me for -anything,' replied Gilles good-humouredly; 'or had paid -me anything these three years past.' -</p> - -<p> -'Then why do you serve me, I wonder?' -</p> - -<p> -'I have oft wondered, too!' rejoined Gilles calmly. -</p> - -<p> -'My brother Henri would pay you better; so would my -brother-in-law of Navarre.' -</p> - -<p> -'That's just it, Monseigneur. Since there is not much -fighting to do just now, other princes would pay me for -doing dirty work for them, no doubt. But, being constituted -as I am, if I have to do dirty work for any one I would sooner -not be paid for doing it. This may sound curious morality, -but so it is.' -</p> - -<p> -The Duke laughed. -</p> - -<p> -'Morality? From you, my good Gilles?' -</p> - -<p> -'It does sound incongruous, does it not, Monseigneur?' -said Gilles placidly. 'A soldier of fortune, like myself, -cannot of a truth afford to have any morality. Mine consists -in forgetting the many sins which I have committed and -leaving others to commit theirs in peace.' -</p> - -<p> -'Admirable in sentiment, my friend,' concluded <i>Monsieur</i>, -with a cynical laugh. 'You will, therefore, leave me in -peace to join Madame de Marquette, if I wish?' -</p> - -<p> -'How can I prevent it, Monseigneur?' -</p> - -<p> -'You cannot. But you can serve me by conciliating my -sister during my absence.' -</p> - -<p> -'I will serve Monseigneur to the best of my ability.' -</p> - -<p> -'Very well, then. I start for Paris this night.' -</p> - -<p> -'So Monseigneur hath already deigned to say.' -</p> - -<p> -'I will let my sister understand that you and I are -starting for Cambray. She will be overjoyed. You will ride -with me as far as Noyon, and then under cover of the darkness -you will return hither.' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, Monseigneur?' -</p> - -<p> -'To-morrow, during the forenoon—not too early, -remember—you will seek audience of Her Majesty and explain -to her that unavoidable business caused me to change my -mind at the eleventh hour; that I have gone—whither you -know not—but that I shall return within a few weeks, or -a few months, as soon as I have tired of my present business, -and that in the meanwhile I adjure her, as she loves me, -to keep those stodgy Flemings in a good humour. You -understand?' -</p> - -<p> -'I understand, Monseigneur.' -</p> - -<p> -'Of course, Madame Marguerite will fume and fret——' -</p> - -<p> -'Of course.' -</p> - -<p> -'She will also probably throw books, or a slipper, or a -cushion at your head——' -</p> - -<p> -'Or the fire-irons, Monseigneur' -</p> - -<p> -'But you won't mind that——' -</p> - -<p> -'On the contrary, I shall enjoy it.' -</p> - -<p> -'The more my sister frets the quicker will her choler be -over.' -</p> - -<p> -'The quicker, too, will the furniture of the hostel be -smashed to pieces.' -</p> - -<p> -'And when she hath calmed down, you and she can sit -together quietly and make plans for the conciliation of my -future loyal Flemish subjects.' -</p> - -<p> -'I shall greatly look forward to so peaceful a <i>tête-à-tête</i>.' -</p> - -<p> -'Then, that's settled!' concluded <i>Monsieur</i> airily, as he -finally rose from his chair, yawned and stretched. -'<i>Palsambleu!</i> what a day of it I have had! Own to it, my good -Gilles, I have well deserved a holiday and the company of -Madame de Marquette after all this business and the -scoldings and objurgations of my impetuous sister!' -</p> - -<p> -'I doubt not, Monseigneur,' responded Gilles dryly, -'that Fate will, as usual, be kind and give you the full -measure of your deserts.' -</p> - -<p> -'Amen to that, my friend. Now, see to it that we get -to horse within the hour. I'll to my dear Margot and receive -her embraces and her praises for my readiness. And, -remember,' he added warningly, just as Gilles, turning on -his heel, was striding towards the door, 'that you will have -to impress it upon Her Majesty most emphatically in your -interview to-morrow that it will be no use her trying to -find out where I am. Madame de Marquette and I will be -beyond her reach. Between you and me, my good Gilles, -I know of a cosy nest where——' -</p> - -<p> -But Gilles de Crohin was apparently no longer in a mood -to listen patiently to his Royal master's rigmarole. -</p> - -<p> -'What about the safe conduct?' he broke in curtly. -And he pointed to the papers which Messire de Montigny -had been at such pains to complete. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh! put it away, my good Gilles,' replied <i>Monsieur</i> -carelessly. 'Put it away! It will be very handy a month -hence, or two months, or three, when I am ready to go and -woo that very solid Flemish maid.' -</p> - -<p> -Without another word, Gilles de Crohin picked up the -safe-conduct, folded it carefully and slipped it into the inner -pocket of his doublet. Then, after a somewhat perfunctory -obeisance, he strode out of the room. -</p> - -<p> -<i>Monsieur</i> listened in complacent silence to the firm -footsteps as they gradually died away down the corridor. -Then he shrugged his shoulders and whistled softly to himself. -</p> - -<p> -'A good fellow, that Gilles,' he murmured. 'I wonder -what my dear sister will do to him to-morrow when she -hears——?' -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap05"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER V -<br /><br /> - WHAT MARGUERITE OF NAVARRE DID WHEN<br /> - SHE HEARD THE NEWS<br /> -</h3> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -I -</h4> - -<p> -When Messire Gilles de Crohin sought audience of Her -Majesty the Queen of Navarre on the following -day at noon, she had just finished dressing. She had been -up betimes, been for a ride in the cool of the early morning; -she had broken her fast with a hearty appetite, for she was -young and full of health and vitality. All night she had -had happy dreams. The brother whom she loved, just as -a mother loves her most fractious and most unmanageable -child, had at last been brought to act decisively for himself; -the goal of her ambitions for him was in sight; in a very -few months she—Marguerite—would have the satisfaction -of seeing him Sovereign Lord—King, perhaps—of one of -the finest countries in Europe, as powerful and more than -was brother Henri, King of France. -</p> - -<p> -She woke up happy, gay as a lark, contented in mind -and merry of humour. After her ride and her breakfast -she had a rest, then she put on a pretty gown, for she was -a beautiful woman and knew the value of clothes. Her -intention now was to remain in La Fère while her dear brother -was in Cambray and to watch over his interests until after -he had been formally betrothed to Jacqueline de Broyart. -After that, she would proceed to Nerac to rejoin her husband. -</p> - -<p> -Having dressed and dismissed her waiting-women, -Marguerite de Navarre sat down beside the open casement-window -in order to indulge in pleasant daydreams. Five -minutes later, one of her serving-men entered in order to -announce to Her Majesty that Messire Gilles de Crohin, -Seigneur de Froidmont, respectfully begged for an immediate -audience. -</p> - -<p> -There are moments in life when to all the senses it appears -as if a blow of sledge-hammer power and weight has suddenly -fallen upon the brain, numbing every thought, every -capability and every sentient action. Just such a moment was -this one for Marguerite of Navarre. That simple -announcement—that Messire Gilles de Crohin desired an -audience—was the sledge-hammer blow which seemed to crush in -the one instant her entire volition and energy and to leave -her unthinking, spell-bound, a mere breathing, human -machine, alive only by the power of the eyes, which remained -fixed upon the doorway wherein presently she would see -Messire Gilles. -</p> - -<p> -It was quite unconsciously that she had intimated to the -serving-man that she would receive Messire de Crohin. -After that, she sat on and gazed upon the doorway and -listened as the familiar footfall resounded along the corridor. -Something had happened, or Gilles would not be here. He -would be on his way to Cambray with <i>Monsieur</i>. Strangely -enough, it never occurred to Marguerite of Navarre that -some simple, easily-explained if untoward accident had -brought Messire back to La Fère. She knew that something -terrible had happened, even before she saw Gilles standing -at attention upon the threshold. -</p> - -<p> -But while the serving-man was still within earshot, she -found the courage to say quite quietly and almost naturally: -</p> - -<p> -'Enter, Messire, I pray you, and close the door behind -you. You are right welcome.' -</p> - -<p> -Then, as soon as the door was closed, she added rapidly -and in a curious choked and hoarse voice: -</p> - -<p> -'My brother?' And as Gilles made no immediate reply, -she continued: 'He hath met with an accident? He is -dead?' -</p> - -<p> -'No! No!' protested Gilles quickly. -</p> - -<p> -'Then, what is it?' she queried. 'Speak, man, or I die -of terror!' -</p> - -<p> -'Monseigneur le Duc d'Anjou did not go to Cambray last -night, your Majesty,' said Gilles quietly. -</p> - -<p> -Marguerite frowned. She did not understand. The news -now appeared trivial after what she had feared. -</p> - -<p> -'Not gone to Cambray?' she said slowly. 'But I saw -him go—with you, Messire.' -</p> - -<p> -'We started together, your Majesty, and rode together -as far as Noyon. Then Monseigneur went on his way and I -returned hither.' -</p> - -<p> -'Monseigneur went on his way? What do you mean? -And why did you go to Noyon, which is not on the way to -Cambray?' -</p> - -<p> -Gilles de Crohin sighed with impatience. But for his -respect for the exalted lady, he would have thought her -strangely dull-witted to-day. -</p> - -<p> -'Monseigneur did not go to Cambray,' he reiterated -slowly, like one who is trying to infuse a lesson into the -mind of a doltish child. 'He hath gone to Paris, on his -way to some spot unknown to any one—certainly unknown -to me. He will be absent weeks—perhaps months. He -desired your Majesty to try and conciliate Monseigneur le -Baron d'Inchy and the other Flemish lords as best you can.' -</p> - -<p> -Marguerite of Navarre listened to Gilles until the end. -Slowly, very slowly, the perception of what had happened -penetrated into her brain. Her eyes were fixed upon him, -glowing with an intense inward fire. Gradually her breath -came and went with ever-increasing rapidity. Her left -hand, which rested on the arm of her chair, gripped the -carving with a more and more convulsive clutch. Then suddenly, -without a cry or warning, her right hand fastened on a -heavy, unloaded pistol which lay, carelessly flung aside, -upon the table close to her, and she flung it at Gilles de -Crohin's head. -</p> - -<p> -He dodged, and the massive weapon struck the door behind -him and fell with a clatter to the floor. -</p> - -<p> -'I could kill you,' said Marguerite de Navarre huskily, -'for bringing me this news!' -</p> - -<p> -'If killing me would bring Monseigneur back,' riposted -Gilles quietly, 'your Majesty would be more than welcome -to do it.' -</p> - -<p> -This sobered her, and she pulled herself together, blushing -to the roots of her hair when she realized that her hand -had already seized upon the small Italian dagger which, in -accordance with the prevailing fashion, she wore fastened -to her girdle. These were but semi-civilized times, and the -days were not very far distant when the messenger of evil -tidings was slain for his pains. But now, when Marguerite -de Navarre encountered Gilles de Crohin's quiet, -good-humoured gaze, she dropped the little dagger and laughed -almost shamefacedly. -</p> - -<p> -'I ought not to have let him out of my sight,' she said -simply. -</p> - -<p> -'It would have been wiser, your Majesty,' rejoined Gilles -with a sigh. -</p> - -<p> -'Madame de Marquette sent for him, I suppose.' Then, -as Gilles made no reply to that, she added with sudden -fierce contempt: 'And you helped him to commit this -treachery?' -</p> - -<p> -'Would you have me betray the man who trusts me?' -he retorted. -</p> - -<p> -'He ordered you to play the farce of starting for Cambray?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes.' -</p> - -<p> -'To throw dust in my eyes?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes.' -</p> - -<p> -'To accompany him as far as Noyon?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes.' -</p> - -<p> -'Then to return hither under cover of darkness?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes.' -</p> - -<p> -'And to greet me on the morrow with the <i>fait accompli</i>?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes.' -</p> - -<p> -'Holy Virgin!' she exclaimed. 'That men should be so -base!' -</p> - -<p> -Tears of mortification, of humiliation, of wild, passionate -anger, had risen to her eyes. Heavy sobs choked the words -in her throat. For once in her life Marguerite of Navarre -felt weak and undone and was not ashamed of her weakness. -She had piloted the chariot of her brother's destiny with -such marvellous success up to the dizzy heights of her own -restless ambition only to see it fall crashing to the ground -through his own treachery. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, Messire Gilles!' she cried with bitter reproach; -'if only you had served me as well as you have served my -brother!' -</p> - -<p> -'I would give my life in your Majesty's service now,' he -rejoined simply, 'if anything that I could do could retrieve -Monseigneur's folly.' -</p> - -<p> -'If anything that you could do could retrieve Monseigneur's -folly?' murmured Marguerite slowly, laboriously, like a -child repeating a lesson. 'Alas! nothing can be done now -to retrieve that, Messire.' -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -II -</h4> - -<p> -Outside, a soft-toned bell struck the midday hour. The -little market-place beyond the courtyard lay bathed in -wintry sunlight. Men and women were moving to and fro, -stopping to chat with one another or exchanging a hasty -greeting; men-at-arms jingled their spurs upon the uneven -pavements; burghers in dark cloth surtouts flitted solemnly -across the place. Marguerite watched with dreamy, unconscious -eyes the pulsating life of the somnolent little city. -With her, even life appeared at a standstill. With this -hideous treachery on the part of her beloved François, with -this unexpected shattering of all her hopes in sight of goal, -she felt as if she herself no longer existed, as if some other -entity had chased her soul away—her loving, ambitious, -romantic soul—and taken possession of her body. -</p> - -<p> -Gilles stood by, silent—looking down on her with infinite -compassion. He, the poor, homeless, penniless soldier of -fortune, found it in his heart to pity this young and adulated -queen. He would have liked to help her if he could. But -the situation was now a hopeless impasse. The curtain -had rung up upon a brilliant drama of glory and of satisfied -ambition; but the principal actor was not there to play -his part, and the drama <i>must</i> fail for want of him. -</p> - -<p> -'Shall I go now, your Majesty?' asked Gilles at last. -</p> - -<p> -But she made no reply. She sat on in the high-backed -chair, looking out upon the world beyond. There were -happy people out there, contented people. People who had -humble aspirations, but who saw them fulfilled. Better far -to long for mere subsistence, to have few and simple desires -and see them satisfied, than to let one's ambition soar to -impossible heights which must for ever remain unattainable. -And Gilles remained standing some distance away from the -Queen, watching a whole world of varied emotions flitting -rapidly over her mobile face. First came anger and despair, -hot resentment and bitter contempt. The eyes looked -steely and glittered with a fierce, inward wrath, whilst not -one line of tenderness softened the curve of the closely set -mouth. At this stage of her grim meditations it was obvious -to the keen watcher that Marguerite de Navarre felt that she -would never quite forgive the dearly loved brother this -culminating act of treachery. -</p> - -<p> -Then something of the hardness of the look went, and -gave place to one of utter hopelessness which, to Gilles who -knew her buoyant disposition, appeared quite heartrending. -It were absolutely useless now, that look seemed to say, to -try and redeem so much folly, such black and despicable -cowardice. And there was the shameful humiliation too, -to endure, the necessary abasement before those stiff-necked -Flemish lords, those proud purists, rigid in their code of -honour. There was the bitter acknowledgment to come -that a prince of the House of France could so vilely break -his word. -</p> - -<p> -But presently, even as the tears of wrath and humiliation -still glistened in Marguerite de Navarre's beautiful eyes, there -crept gradually into her face a strange look of puzzlement. -It came slowly, very slowly, just as if Fate, having struck -her blow, was beginning to relent and to whisper words of -hope. Frowns came and went between the pencilled brows, -and inaudible whispers seemed to come through the slightly -parted lips. Then, still quite gradually, a glow of excitement -spread over the face, the eyes shone less sombre, a ray of -light, like unto a faint smile, played round the corners of the -lips. -</p> - -<p> -Then Marguerite de Navarre turned her pretty head and -fixed her eyes upon Gilles. And he who stood by, listening -and watching, heard distinctly that her lips murmured the -two little words: 'Why not?' -</p> - -<p> -A quarter of an hour had gone by. Both the actors in -this palpitating little interlude had lost count of time—Gilles -gazing pityingly, almost remorsefully, on the Queen, -and she, thinking, thinking, wrestling with Fate, unwilling -even now to give in. -</p> - -<p> -And all the while she was looking on Gilles with a puzzled -frown, whilst her lips kept on murmuring, as if unconsciously: -'Why not?' -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -III -</h4> - -<p> -'Messire de Crohin,' said Marguerite of Navarre at last. -'You said just now that you would give your life in my -service if anything that you could do at this hour would -retrieve Monsieur's folly. Did you mean all that you said, -Messire?' -</p> - -<p> -Gilles smiled. 'I am not a Royal prince, Madame,' he -said simply. 'I cannot afford the luxury of playing with -my word. 'Tis all I have.' -</p> - -<p> -She sighed and looked on him with those appealing yet -compelling eyes of hers, which had such marvellous power -to bend poor, feeble man to her will. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh! but do repeat what you said, Messire,' she said -naïvely. 'If you only knew how I long for an assurance -of fidelity from one who is really a man!' -</p> - -<p> -'I do repeat then, your Majesty, what I said before,' -rejoined Gilles solemnly; 'that I would give my life in -your service if aught that I can do will retrieve Monseigneur's -folly.' -</p> - -<p> -She seemed to drink in his simple words as if they were -nectar to her soul—her soul, which was thirsting for loyalty, -for service, for strength and truth. Then she said quietly: -</p> - -<p> -'I'll put you to the test, Messire.' -</p> - -<p> -'If your Majesty pleases,' he replied. -</p> - -<p> -'I pray you,' she then resumed, speaking very quietly -and with slow but firm emphasis, 'to listen in silence and -to the very end to what I am going to say. However -surprised or—or—unwilling you may feel, do not raise any -objections till after I have told you of the scheme which I -have just evolved in my mind, and which I firmly believe -will yet retrieve our family honour and secure for my brother -the throne of the Netherlands. God knows,' she added with -a bitter sigh, 'that he hath not deserved that you or I should -still be working for him! But when a prince of the House -of Valois breaks his word, the shame of it bears upon us all.' -</p> - -<p> -She paused, and in accordance with her desire Gilles -remained silent, listening. -</p> - -<p> -'Messire Gilles,' resumed Marguerite after awhile. 'There -is, so I am told, Valois blood in your veins. That blood hath -given you a glibness of tongue, at times wholly out of keeping -with your adventurous temperament. It has also given -you—so gossip avers—that persuasive eloquence which -tickles pleasantly the ear of women. In temperament -and in bearing Nature hath favoured you more generously -than she did my brother. This perhaps is the only possible -hitch in the plan which I have devised.' -</p> - -<p> -Gilles frowned. It was his turn now to be exceedingly -puzzled. -</p> - -<p> -'It has been arranged, Messire—and to this the Flemish -lord gave his consent—that <i>Monsieur</i> Duc d'Anjou et -d'Alençon shall woo his future wife under a mask—under -a mask,' she reiterated slowly. 'Ah!' she exclaimed, -seeing that Gilles had suddenly given an involuntary gasp. -'I see that already you understand! There is something -that you can do, Messire, to retrieve <i>Monsieur's</i> folly. You -can act the rôle which I had assigned to him. You can don -a mask and woo Madame Jacqueline from beneath her -casement window. How oft in the past years have you -impersonated your princely master in a less avowable cause? -How many blows and sabre-cuts have you received on his -behalf whilst he pursued some less worthy adventure? -Nay! you cannot deny that. I know so much of what -my dear brother would conceal from me. It can be done, -Messire Gilles,' she added eagerly. 'It can be done, if you -will loyally and faithfully serve me to this end.' -</p> - -<p> -She paused, breathless and excited, and with glowing -eyes fixed upon Gilles de Crohin as if to probe his very soul -and to extract from him not only a consent, of which she -was already assured, but the same enthusiasm for her scheme -which she felt herself. -</p> - -<p> -'Messire Gilles!' she exclaimed. 'It can be done! -And now, in Heaven's name, I pray you, speak! I can -endure your silence no longer!' -</p> - -<p> -Gilles smiled at her quaint inconsequence. Then he -passed his toil-worn hand through his rumpled hair. His -look of utter bewilderment was so ludicrous that, despite -her anxiety, Marguerite could not help but laugh. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, Messire Gilles!' she cried. 'If you only knew how -comical you look!' -</p> - -<p> -'Comical, Madame?' retorted Gilles with a growl. 'So -would you look comical if you were suddenly confronted -with so wild a proposition!' -</p> - -<p> -'Wild, Messire?' riposted the Queen. ''Tis the Flemish -lords who would be wild if my inventive brain had not -conceived the proposition.' -</p> - -<p> -'But, Madame——' protested Gilles feebly. -</p> - -<p> -'But, Messire,' retorted the Queen, mimicking the unfortunate -man. 'Tell me,' she added more soberly, 'have you -or have you not impersonated <i>Monsieur</i> before now?' -</p> - -<p> -'Well!' murmured Gilles, 'I confess that I...' -</p> - -<p> -'There was the affair with Monsieur de Ravache, for -instance,' she continued firmly. 'The sword-thrust which -that invincible duellist received in a certain affair of honour -last June was openly attributed to <i>Monsieur</i>; but those who -were in the know have averred that it was Messire Gilles de -Crohin, and not the Duc d'Anjou, who fought Monsieur de -Ravache that night.' -</p> - -<p> -Gilles shrugged his shoulders and Marguerite went on -glibly: -</p> - -<p> -'And in the fracas in a low booth outside Arras, when an -irate father and three bellicose brothers vowed vengeance -against the princely lover of an over-trusting wench, was -it indeed <i>Monsieur</i> Duc d'Anjou who, beneath a mask and -cloak, kept half a dozen sturdy swordsmen at bay for close -on half an hour? Or was it not rather Messire Gilles de -Crohin who fought single-handed thus valiantly, even while -<i>Monsieur</i>, disguised and furtive, found safety in flight?' -</p> - -<p> -'Your Majesty, I protest,' broke in Gilles firmly, 'that -rumour is nearly always a lying jade——' -</p> - -<p> -'Bah!' quoth Marguerite lightly. 'I'll challenge you to -deny either of these tales on your oath. And there is the -story of the jeweller's daughter, and that of Madame de -Franqueville. The latter, I believe, is still under the -impression that M. le Duc d'Anjou is the most ardent lover -and the most chivalrous foe in France and that he wears -about his person all the evidences of a hard and adventurous -life. But why argue, Messire?' she continued impatiently. -'Even if you had never in your life impersonated the shifty -prince whom you serve, I would ask you to do it now for -his sake as well as for mine own.' -</p> - -<p> -'But, in the name of all the saints in the calendar!' -exclaimed Gilles with an air of laughable helplessness, 'how -is it all going to be done? I shall be seen ... recognized -... the fraud exposed within the first few hours -... and our second state will be distinctly worse than our -first.' -</p> - -<p> -'Exposed?' rejoined the Queen coolly. 'Who by? -<i>Monsieur</i> hath never been in Cambray. Who should be -acquainted with his appearance? And, moreover, there -will be the mask to ward off any untoward or chance -recognition.' -</p> - -<p> -'But hath your Majesty thought of Messire de Montigny?' -retorted Gilles dryly. 'He hath just spent half an hour -in Monseigneur's presence and is not blind, I imagine. A -mere mask would not deceive him.' -</p> - -<p> -'Ah! I thought that you would mention Messire de -Montigny,' riposted Marguerite triumphantly. 'Have you -forgotten that he said he would only just have time to see -his brother and M. d'Inchy in Cambray, as he was on his -way to join the army of the Prince of Orange at Utrecht?' -</p> - -<p> -'He may return at any time.' -</p> - -<p> -'He may,' said Marguerite calmly. 'I did not say,' she -added with a significant little smile, 'that there would be -no risks, no dangers, connected with the undertaking. If -you fear to affront them, Messire ... why, there's nothing -more to be said.' -</p> - -<p> -Marguerite de Navarre was far too clever not to know that -in uttering the word 'danger' she would be playing her -trump card. 'Gilles' objections were suddenly dissolved -like smoke in thin air. He laughed and said good-humouredly: -</p> - -<p> -'That was a clever move, Madame! I hated the affair -until you spoke of danger.' -</p> - -<p> -'And now?' she queried, smiling. -</p> - -<p> -'Now? Now?' he said. 'I merely repeat: how is it -going to be done?' -</p> - -<p> -'In exactly the same manner in which the affair, say, with -Madame de Franqueville was conducted,' she replied. -</p> - -<p> -'But there we had an object to attain, Madame—a none -too avowable one, I own, but still an object. But here -... suppose I sigh beneath Madame Jacqueline's window -effectually? Suppose she falls in love with her unknown -swain? Suppose she grants him an interview?.... We -should still be where we now are! 'Tis Monseigneur who -will have to marry Madame Jacqueline de Broyart—not I.' -</p> - -<p> -'Do not trouble your head about that, good Messire,' -retorted Marguerite dryly. 'We only want to gain time. -You do your wooing; I'll see that <i>Monsieur</i> is there to -wed.' -</p> - -<p> -'But——' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh! I know him well enough,' she continued with an -impatient sigh. 'His present caprice—I suppose it is -Madame de Marquette—will not last a week. At the end -of a sennight or less he will come back fawning to me, -satiated, bored and repentant, ready to do anything—even -to marry Madame Jacqueline blindfolded—in order to regain -my good graces. All that we want,' pleaded Marguerite -with a sudden softening of her voice and of her whole -attitude, 'is to gain time—a few days' time, Messire—while -I go hunting for my faithless brother. I cannot go and -tell Monseigneur de Lalain and M. le Baron d'Inchy that -<i>Monsieur</i> Duc d'Anjou of the princely House of Valois hath -fled from his obligations. Those obligations must be fulfilled -at all costs, Messire ... at all costs, you understand? -Nominally, Monsieur must be in Cambray within three days, -and you must keep Madame Jacqueline amused and happy -until I send you word that <i>Monsieur</i> is on his way—ready -to take your place.' -</p> - -<p> -'But——' murmured Gilles again, in a final attempt at -protest. -</p> - -<p> -She, however, would not allow him to get in a word -edgewise now. -</p> - -<p> -'When Monseigneur arrives,' she went on with eager -volubility, 'you, Messire, will give up your dual rôle, become -once again the one and only Sire de Froidmont. When -<i>Monsieur</i> appears unmasked before his promised bride, we -must see to it that plenty of padding do supplement his -somewhat narrow shoulders and sunken chest, for Madame -Jacqueline and her entourage will have been accustomed -by then to your broad stature, Messire; but no one will -have seen the face of the masked swain. Oh, Messire -Gilles! Messire Gilles!' she exclaimed, clasping her hands -together with a gesture of passionate entreaty. 'With -a little thought, a little care and a little luck, it can all -be done so easily if you will but consent! Say yes, Messire! and -the prayers of a harassed Queen and a doting sister will -bring blessings down upon your loyal head!' -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -IV -</h4> - -<p> -The tears were in Marguerite de Navarre's eyes as she -extended an appealing hand to Gilles de Crohin. He, poor -wretch, had not much choice. His loyalty had been -requisitioned in such terms that he could not refuse. And, -remember, that Gilles de Crohin, the soldier of fortune, was -nothing if not adventurous. Deep down in his heart -something was already stirring which tickled his imagination -and fired his ardent blood. Like a war-horse scenting battle, -he scented excitement, danger, hair-breadth escapes, -sword-thrusts given and received—all of which was to him the -very essence of life. And there was something exceedingly -pleasant, too, in the gratitude of this beautiful and -accomplished woman—a Queen indeed, in the highest acceptance -of the word. -</p> - -<p> -Messire Gilles' life had been very dull and dreary of -late. He had set out once—very long ago and when he was -a mere lad—to carve out his own fortune in the world. -Penniless, and bearing a noble name which the penury of -two generations had somewhat tarnished, he dreamed, when -he was still in his teens, that Fate reserved something very -glorious and very wonderful for him. A decade and more -had gone by since then, and Messire Gilles had found that -the cornucopia of Fate held more thistles than roses for him. -The wars now were so inglorious; the days of chivalry had -gone, never to return. The princes in high places, whom -adventurers such as he were destined to serve, had nothing -to offer for devoted allegiance save a miserable pittance often -withheld. -</p> - -<p> -As a matter of fact, Messire Gilles de Crohin had of late -been heartily sick of life. The spirit of adventure that -glowed within him was gradually becoming somnolent. He -felt that even his blood would become sluggish in time if -he dragged on this uneventful existence in the wake of an -indolent and dissolute prince. -</p> - -<p> -Then, in the midst of all this dreary dullness, came this -ray of sunshine—an adventure such as he, Gilles, had not -dreamed of since his boyhood—an adventure proposed to -him by the fairest lips in Europe—which would bring all -the excitement with it for which he yearned so passionately. -No wonder that every objection seemed to him all at once -to be futile, every obstacle mere child's play. -</p> - -<p> -And Marguerite, keen and clever, saw at once that he -was wavering, just as de Montigny had done yesterday. -Long before either of these two men realized themselves -that they were yielding, she <i>knew</i> that she had gained her -point. -</p> - -<p> -'You gave me your word, Messire,' she said gently. -</p> - -<p> -'And I'll not go back on it, Madame,' he replied. -</p> - -<p> -'Yet you hesitate!' -</p> - -<p> -'Your pardon, Madame,' he rejoined with a smile. 'I was -only bewildered.' -</p> - -<p> -'Then you consent?' she exclaimed joyfully. -</p> - -<p> -He shrugged his shoulders with his habitual easy-going -good-humour. -</p> - -<p> -'Madame gives me no choice,' he said. 'I cannot go back -on my word.' -</p> - -<p> -He bent the knee and kissed the gracious hand which was -extended to him. Marguerite's eyes were still bathed in -tears. -</p> - -<p> -'If anything that I can do,' reiterated Gilles de Crohin -solemnly, 'will retrieve Monseigneur's folly I'll do it.' -</p> - -<p> -'Ah!' she riposted gently. 'But 'tis your solemn oath -I want, Messire Gilles.' -</p> - -<p> -'My word of honour, Madame,' he retorted bluntly, 'hath -always been found sufficient.' -</p> - -<p> -'Nay! your oath!' she insisted, pleading once more. 'A -solemn, binding oath! One,' she added naïvely, 'which, if -broken, would land you in hell.' Then, as a sudden scowl -gathered on Gilles' brow, she continued in a tone of sadness -and self-pity: 'Do not be angered, Messire. I know you -for a loyal gentleman and have no doubt that, to you, your -word is as good as your oath. But I have been so oft -deceived, so oft befooled, that a man's word of honour hath -lost its value in mine eyes. Can you blame me, remembering -what I am suffering now?' -</p> - -<p> -Gilles' sense of humour saved the situation. His word -of honour had of a truth never been doubted, but in face -of this sorely outraged woman, he could not take offence. -</p> - -<p> -'What oath shall I take,' he queried, with a good-humoured -smile, 'that will satisfy the Queen of Navarre?' -</p> - -<p> -'On your immortal soul, Messire,' she said solemnly; -'on your hopes of salvation; on all that you hold most -precious and most dear, swear to me that you will serve -me in this matter as I shall direct you, and until I myself do -release you from this bond.' -</p> - -<p> -He drew his cross-hilted sword and held it fixed before -his eyes. Then he placed his right hand upon the hilt and -said with solemn earnestness: 'I swear.' -</p> - -<p> -Marguerite gave a quick sigh of content. She watched -Gilles with evident satisfaction as he rose to his feet, sheathed -his sword and then stood before her in all his picturesque -ruggedness, a perfect presentment of a man, strong, -reliable—oh! above all, reliable!!! -</p> - -<p> -'Now, Madame,' said 'Gilles finally, 'will you deign to -tell me just what I am to do?' -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -V -</h4> - -<p> -For an hour and more after that, these two—veritable -conspirators now—sat together, the Queen of Navarre -talking and explaining eagerly and Gilles listening; for of -a truth he was still rather bewildered at the proposition -and at the part which he would have to play in it. Not that -the rôle itself was unfamiliar to him. He had played it -often enough, as Marguerite had very shrewdly said, and -in far less avowable causes; but never for any length of -time. It had been a matter of fighting a duel or meeting -an inconvenient interlocutor; a matter of stepping into -his Royal master's shoes for half an hour or so, and as oft -as not under cover of a dim light. But now he would have -to sustain the part for days—weeks, perhaps—never -forgetting, always on the alert, always fearful lest a word, a -gesture, an inflexion of the voice, should betray him. And -he had sworn so solemnly on what he held most sacred and -most dear that he would see the business through! Ye -gods! but it was a hard proposition for a simple-minded -soldier of fortune to tackle! -</p> - -<p> -Marguerite of Navarre, however, was for laughing away -every difficulty which stood in her path. -</p> - -<p> -'It has got to be done, Messire!' she said more than -once, and with ever-increasing earnestness. 'For the -honour of France and of her Royal House.' -</p> - -<p> -She began by giving Gilles more money than he had ever -seen before, taking purse after purse of gold from her private -coffer and watching him as, puzzled and confused, he stowed -these away in the inner pockets of his doublet and breeches. -</p> - -<p> -'I haven't earned all this yet,' he muttered ruefully. -</p> - -<p> -'You will want it,' she rejoined. 'You are a prince, -remember, and though you will be travelling incognito, you -must live like a prince.' -</p> - -<p> -But the question of clothes was the most difficult one -to settle. Gilles de Crohin possessed none save those in -which he stood up at this moment: a well-worn doublet -of faded kerseymere, a stout jerkin and cloth trunks. His -hose showed a multiplicity of darns, and his boots, though -stout and solid, were not exactly suited to a lady's -drawing-room. -</p> - -<p> -'Time is too short to fashion new ones,' said Marguerite -thoughtfully; 'even if this little town did boast of silken -materials and Court tailors; which it certainly does not!' -</p> - -<p> -'It certainly doth appear in the light of an insurmountable -difficulty,' rejoined Gilles with a hopeful sigh. -</p> - -<p> -'No difficulty is insurmountable, Messire, when the -honour of France is at stake,' she retorted with a frown. -</p> - -<p> -'But——' -</p> - -<p> -'What hath <i>Monsieur</i> done with his wardrobe?' asked -Marguerite. 'He always travels with trunk-loads of -frippery.' -</p> - -<p> -'Monseigneur left all his clothes here and most of his -jewellery. I am to convey them to his house in Paris when -an opportunity occurs.' -</p> - -<p> -'Very well,' she rejoined firmly; 'we must find what you -want among them.' -</p> - -<p> -'But——' he broke in once more, disconcerted at the -suggestion. -</p> - -<p> -'But what?' -</p> - -<p> -'The trunks are locked.' -</p> - -<p> -'I'll break them open,' she rejoined simply. 'Have no -fear, Messire; I am taking all the responsibility of this -affair upon my shoulders.' -</p> - -<p> -'But I cannot strut about in another man's clothes!' -protested Gilles dolefully. -</p> - -<p> -'Why not?' -</p> - -<p> -'Because ... because ... <i>parbleu!</i> because they would -not fit me!' -</p> - -<p> -Marguerite smiled. Then she threw another admiring -glance on Gilles' massive figure. -</p> - -<p> -'My brother is very nearly as tall as you are, Messire, -she said,' even though not quite so broad. I have two very -skilful seamstresses who will adjust <i>Monsieur's</i> doublets -across your splendid shoulders. With his love of slashings -and puffings, such alterations are very easily done.' -</p> - -<p> -'But the boots——' protested Gilles again. -</p> - -<p> -'You have the small foot, Messire,' she replied dryly, -'which you inherit from your Valois ancestor.' -</p> - -<p> -'The Lord help me, your Majesty!' he exclaimed piteously. -'You have thought of everything, and I am a puppet in your -august hands.' -</p> - -<p> -'Therefore I entreat you not to argue any further,' she -retorted gaily, 'or I shall think that you are repenting of -your bargain—and of your oath.' -</p> - -<p> -Which suggestion caused Gilles to cease from further -protests, even though he did express a hope that Her -Majesty's seamstresses would not make gossip all about the -town that he—the Sire de Froidmont—was going to walk -about in another man's clothes. -</p> - -<p> -'My women never gossip,' said Marguerite dryly, after -which she abruptly changed the subject. 'And now tell -me,' she said. 'A man like you must have a friend, a -comrade or a servant—some one, in fact, who would be -faithful and trustworthy. You will want a companion on -your journey. Messire, have you such a friend?' -</p> - -<p> -'Aye! that I have,' replied Gilles fervently, his whole -face beaming with joy at thought of having his faithful -Jehan with him in this mad expedition. -</p> - -<p> -'One who would serve you faithfully?' she continued. -</p> - -<p> -'To the death, your Majesty.' -</p> - -<p> -'And cleverly?' she insisted. 'You will both have to -keep your wits about you.' -</p> - -<p> -Gilles smiled. 'Maître Jehan,' he said, 'hath no wits -to speak of, Madame; but he hath a heart of gold and -muscles of steel. Nature hath forced him to hold his tongue, -for he stutters like a clucking hen. He is invaluable for -circumventing an inopportune visitor or misunderstanding -an imperative command. We have fought side by side these -past ten years and have nearly bled to death or been frozen -to death together before now. Jehan will do for me what -I would do for you, Madame.' -</p> - -<p> -'You are lucky, Messire,' rejoined Marguerite simply, 'to -have such a friend. And I,' she added, with an engaging -smile,' to have such an one, too. Maître Jehan shall journey -to Cambray with you as your serving-man. With his -prowess and your own invincible courage and strength, the -very thought of failure appears treasonable. Ah, Messire -Gilles!' she continued eagerly, 'I beg of you to cast all -doubts aside! Have no fear, I entreat you—no fear of -failure or of gossip! And, above all, trust me! Trust me, -Messire, that whatever happens, I will not leave you in the -lurch. Only trust me! Trust me! You shall not suffer -through serving me! On the faith of Marguerite of -Navarre!' -</p> - -<p> -She gave him her hand again, and through tears of emotion -gave him a glance of appreciation and of confidence. Gilles -had no more resistance left in him; and as he looked into -those lovely eyes which had already played such havoc with -men's wills and with men's hearts, he sighed with resignation -and with only a transient thought for the morrow. None -knew better than the Sire de Froidmont the exact value of -promises made by princes or by women. To-day Marguerite -of Navarre's clever mind and warm heart were filled with -enthusiasm for this new scheme of hers; a week hence, -mayhap, she would have thought of something else, and -Gilles—as like as not—would indeed be left to bear the brunt -of failure. -</p> - -<p> -But these were just the vicissitudes which were wont to -attend the career of a soldier of fortune these days. A -dazzling prize or a gibbet might await the adventurer at the -end of his goal. For the nonce, Gilles had sworn to serve -this gracious lady and to redeem the unpardonable folly of -a faithless prince, and with a careless shrug of the shoulders -he left the future in Dame Fortune's hands. -</p> - -<p> -'I will give you an autograph letter,' resumed Marguerite -more quietly after awhile, 'for M. le Baron d'Inchy, governor -of Cambray, and one for Maître Julien at the hostelry of -"Les Trois Rois." These will serve as your credentials in -addition to the safe-conducts which Messire de Montigny -delivered to <i>Monsieur</i>. You have those, I hope.' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, Madame,' replied Gilles. 'Monseigneur left them -with me. If your Majesty deigns to remember, they were -e'en made out in my name.' -</p> - -<p> -'In the name of Messire Gilles de Crohin, the equerry and -of Monseigneur le prince de Froidmont!' she exclaimed -gleefully. 'Indeed, I mind it well! You will not even have -to change your name, Messire; and the title shall be yours, -an' you desire it, when my brother is King of the Netherlands.' -</p> - -<p> -Gilles shrugged his shoulders. 'Oh! a title, -Madame...!' he said lightly. -</p> - -<p> -'I know! I know!' she riposted, with the volubility of -intense excitement. 'I know your proud device: "Roy -ne suys, ne Prince, ne Duc, ne Comte. Je suys Sire de -Froide Monte." Ah, Messire Gilles! you were fated to -belie that device! Prince de Froidmont—'tis no mean -title.' -</p> - -<p> -'I prefer that of Friend of the Queen of Navarre,' he said -simply. -</p> - -<p> -'You are that indeed, Messire, and more,' she rejoined -solemnly. 'Ah! if my brother were only like you, what -glorious destiny would have been his!' -</p> - -<p> -'Our destinies are of our own making, Madame,' he -retorted. -</p> - -<p> -'You have started to carve them out for yourself now, -Messire Gilles, on the tablets of my memory.' -</p> - -<p> -'Then may God and the Fates favour me!' -</p> - -<p> -'The Fates?' she cried gaily. 'Why, you and I have -conquered the Fates, Messire. Will you deny that they are -our handmaidens now?' -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap06"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER VI -<br /><br /> - WHAT MONSEIGNEUR D'INCHY AND MESSIRE GILLES DE<br /> - CROHIN MUTUALLY THOUGHT OF ONE ANOTHER<br /> -</h3> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -I -</h4> - -<p> -And three days later, an' it please you, Messire Gilles -presented himself, his safe-conduct and his faithful -Jehan at the Porte de Cantimpré. -</p> - -<p> -The safe-conduct being made out in the name of -Monseigneur le Prince de Froidmont, his equerry, Messire -Gilles de Crohin, and his serving-man, the absence of one -of the three personages was casually commented on by the -Captain of the Guard. -</p> - -<p> -'My equerry hath fallen sick on the way,' explained -Gilles airily. 'He lies at a village inn close by and will -come as soon as may be.' -</p> - -<p> -It was at once arranged that whenever the equerry did -present himself at the gate, Monseigneur le Prince de -Froidmont was immediately to be apprised of his arrival so that -he might at once stand guarantee for the man's identity. -Needless to say that no such equerry existed, nor does the -Captain of the Guard appear to have worried his head over -so small a matter. But, anyway, Gilles now was inside -Cambray, the scene of his coming adventure, and I can -assure you that on this first occasion—it was late evening -then and a cold, drizzling rain was blurring every outline -of the picturesque city—Gilles did not stride about the -streets with that careless jauntiness which characterized -his usual demeanour. -</p> - -<p> -After some searchings and many wanderings through -the most unfrequented portions of the city, Messire did -finally espy the Rue aux Juifs, at one end of which there -dangled on a ricketty iron bracket a half-obliterated sign -that still bore the legend 'Les Trois Rois' in black paint -on a crimson ground and three dabs of pink paint, -surmounted by dabs of yellowish paint, which might still pass -muster as kingly faces surmounted by their crowns. Now, -if you remember, the Rue aux Juifs in Cambray is a narrow -street which runs behind the Place aux Bois, and links the -latter with the Porte Notre Dame. Owing to the elaborate -corbelling of the old houses on either side, it appeared far -narrower in the year 1581 than it does to-day,[<a id="chap06fn1text"></a><a href="#chap06fn1">1</a>] and the -hostelry so pretentiously styled 'Les Trois Rois' was of -the humblest description. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap06fn1"></a> -[<a href="#chap06fn1text">1</a>] In the spring of 1914. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Gilles was satisfied to find it so. He liked its seclusion -and had never been <i>difficile</i> in the matter of his creature -comforts. Secrecy and mutual confidence were the greatest -desiderata for the moment in the pursuit of his adventure, -and he knew enough about the exquisite Queen of Navarre -that if any male creature who dwelt within 'Les Trois -Rois' had come within the magic circle of her fascination, -that man would go through fire and water, torture and hell -itself, in order to serve her. -</p> - -<p> -So he knocked boldly at the ricketty front door of the -humble hostelry. A young man, thin and pale, wearing -a long doublet of dark woollen stuff and a black cap above -his scanty yellow hair, opened the door and bade him -welcome. He had a lanthorn in his hand and held it high -above his head, surveying the stranger with that pathetic -air, half-fear, half-entreaty, wherewith the very poor are -wont to regard those who might bring about a small measure -of change in their misery. -</p> - -<p> -Gilles at once presented the letter which Madame la -Reyne de Navarre had given him for his prospective host. -The young man glanced at the latter, recognized the -signature, and at once his almost cadaverous-looking face -became transfigured. His hollow eyes took on a glow of -joy, his cheeks assumed a warm hue, his long, bony hands -clutched the welcome missive as an idolater might clutch -the relic which he worshipped. -</p> - -<p> -There was no doubt that Messire Gilles would be made -welcome—and right welcome—in the humble hostelry. -Not only would discretion be assured him, but also unswerving -devotion, of which indeed he might presently stand in -sore need. -</p> - -<p> -'My mother,' stammered the youth, after he had recovered -from his primary emotion, 'is bedridden now, alas! but -I will do my best to serve you, Messire, and your henchman, -to the best of my ability. I will tend you and wait on you, -and whatever this humble abode hath to offer is entirely -at your disposal. My liege lady commands,' he added, -drawing up his spare frame with the air of a devotee in the -presence of his hero. 'I will obey her in all things!' -</p> - -<p> -We will not say that Gilles was exactly gratified to hear -that the hostess of 'Les Trois Rois' was bedridden and -would be unable to attend on him, but it is certain that he -was not grieved. With this young enthusiast alone to -attend on him and to share the secret of his adventure, -he was as secure from untimely discovery as it was possible -under the circumstances to be. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -II -</h4> - -<p> -At eleven o'clock the next morning, Gilles sent word -round to Monseigneur the governor of the Cambrésis that -he would wait on him within the hour. Together with this -message he sent the sealed letter wherein the Queen of -Navarre commended her dear brother François, Duc d'Anjou, -to the good graces of Monseigneur the governor. -</p> - -<p> -At the hour when the messenger arrived, M. le Comte de -Lalain, who was governor of Flanders and one of d'Inchy's -closest associates, was closeted with the latter in one of the -stately rooms of the Archiepiscopal Palace where M. d'Inchy -had taken up his abode after he had dispossessed the -Archbishop and taken possession of the city. D'Inchy, -obviously nervy and anxious, quickly dismissed the messenger; -then he turned to de Lalain and, throwing the Queen's -letter across the table to him, he said briefly: 'Well, he -has come!' -</p> - -<p> -De Lalain in his turn read the letter through. Then he -sighed. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes,' he said. 'He, at any rate, seems determined -to carry the adventure through.' -</p> - -<p> -'I hope to God that we have done right,' rejoined d'Inchy. -'The whole thing, now that it is upon us, appears to me -more foolish than ever it did before.' -</p> - -<p> -'And there is no drawing back now, unfortunately.' -</p> - -<p> -'The whole affair is in God's hands,' quoth d'Inchy -sententiously. -</p> - -<p> -'In the hands of an irresponsible and dissolute prince,' -said the other moodily. 'I blame de Montigny for having -consented so readily.' -</p> - -<p> -'Then you must blame yourself too, my friend,' retorted -d'Inchy dryly. 'You, too, consented, and so did I....' -</p> - -<p> -'I know that well enough! Like yourself, de Montigny -and I acted for the best, though I for one could even now -with zest strike that Valois Prince in the face for this insult -upon our ward.' -</p> - -<p> -But d'Inchy apparently was all for a conciliating attitude -and a cheerful view of the situation. -</p> - -<p> -'Do not,' he said lightly, 'let us use grandiloquent words, -my dear de Lalain. There is no insult in a man's desire to -see the woman whom he is asked to wed. For the time -being Jacqueline will hold herself aloof. She will appear -little in public, and then only wearing a mask. After a -few days, if affairs seem to be shaping to our satisfaction, -we can always allow a certain degree of intimacy. Jacqueline -is so beautiful that we really run no risk of refusal. -And,' he added with a quick sign of finality, 'in any case we -had no choice.' -</p> - -<p> -'Alas, no!' rejoined de Lalain ruefully. 'For of a truth -I cannot bring myself to believe in Orange as the saviour -of the Netherlands. He thinks that he can rally the -burghers and the mass of the people to his standard. But -I doubt it. And if he fails in his present campaign we shall -all fall into a veritable abyss of humiliation and dependence -on those abominable Spaniards—far worse than ever -before.' -</p> - -<p> -'And all our friends think the same, as you well know, -my good de Lalain,' continued d'Inchy firmly. 'An alliance -with a prince of the House of France is safer than a -submission to the leadership of Orange. We want the help -of France; we want her well-trained armies, her capable -generals, the weight of her wealth and influence to drive -the Spaniards out of our provinces. Elizabeth of England -promises much but holds little. She is on the side of Orange. -I am on the side of France.' -</p> - -<p> -'So am I, my good d'Inchy,' rejoined de Lalain; 'else -I had never consented to the Queen of Navarre's madcap -scheme.' -</p> - -<p> -'Nor I,' concluded d'Inchy with the solemn earnestness -of political fanaticism. 'So why all these misgivings, my -good friend?' -</p> - -<p> -'Was it fair to the girl?' murmured the other almost -involuntarily. 'Monsieur is as fickle as he is unprincipled. -Had we the right to toy with a woman's heart—a young -girl's—our kinswoman——?' -</p> - -<p> -'You wrong Jacqueline by such doubts, my friend. She -is not a child nor yet an irresponsible girl. She knows that -her person and her fortune are powerful assets in the future -of her country. She is a patriot, and will never allow -sentiment to overrule her duty.' -</p> - -<p> -Perhaps de Lalain would have liked to continue the -argument. Obviously his conscience was smiting him a -little now that the curtain had actually rung up on the first -act of the foolish adventure. The ill-fame of the Valois -prince had preceded him long ago. De Lalain knew—and -so did d'Inchy, so did de Montigny—that <i>Monsieur</i> -was both profligate and faithless. He, like the others, had -entered into a bargain with one whom they could never -trust. Was it fair? Was it just? Would God's blessing -descend upon the proposed Kingdom of the Netherlands -if its foundations rested on so infamous a base? And yet -de Lalain, though conscious of that vague feeling of remorse, -had no thought of turning back. Even now, as a tall, -masked figure appeared under the lintel of the door in the -wake of the usher, and then stepped boldly into the room, -he made a great effort to control his resentment. Though -his hand ached to drag the mask away from the man's face, -to try and read him eye to eye, his reason re-asserted itself, -re-adjusted his thoughts and his sentiments. 'This,' it -whispered insistently, 'this man who has come to Cambray -masked and disguised, is a prince of the House of France. -If he approve of the beautiful Flemish heiress and consents -to take her for wife, the future of the Netherlands is assured, -even though he were twenty times as base as he is depicted.' -</p> - -<p> -And reason gained the victory. D'Inchy already had gone -a few steps forward in order to greet his exalted visitor. -De Lalain composed himself too, even paid an involuntary -tribute of admiration to that tall and martial-looking figure -which enshrined, so rumour had it, a soul that was both -weak and false. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -III -</h4> - -<p> -And Messire Gilles de Crohin, the penniless soldier of -fortune, the mountebank set to play an unworthy part, was -greeted by these two proud Flemish nobles with all the -respect due to a prince of the House of France. And indeed -there was nothing mean or humble about his appearance -even though he had come to Cambray with only one man -to serve him, and that man a rough and uncouth soldier -with a ludicrous stutter which would at once have provoked -the gibes of Monseigneur, the governor's servants, but for -the fact that Maître Jehan's fists appeared as hard and -harder than their heads, and that his temper was so hot that -he had already put the first scoffers to flight by the mere -rolling of his eyes. He was standing at this precise moment -immediately behind his master, and as soon as the usher -had withdrawn and the door been closed, he slipped quite -unostentatiously into the nearest corner and remained there, -with his eyes fixed on Messire like a faithful watch-dog, -silent and keen. -</p> - -<p> -The two Flemish lords had also waited until the usher -had disappeared; then only did they make obeisance, with -all the ceremonious empressment which the presence of a -Royal personage demanded. -</p> - -<p> -Let us admit at once that Gilles looked magnificent in -Monsieur le Duc d'Anjou's splendid clothes—doublet and -trunks of fine satin, slashed and puffed after the latest -fashion; hose of Italian silk and short mantle of Genoa -velvet, exquisitely embroidered in dull silver and gold, -the whole of that sombre bottle-green hue specially affected -by <i>Monsieur</i> and a miracle of the dyer's subtle art. He -had ruffles at neck and wrist of delicate Mechlin lace, wore -a mask with a frill of black lace pendant from it, which -effectually hid the whole of his face, and at his side a rapier -which obviously hailed from Toledo. Altogether a splendid -prince! And it was difficult indeed to credit the rumours -which averred that he had undermined his constitution by -high living and drinking and a life of profligacy and excess. -</p> - -<p> -He received the greetings of the Flemish lords with just -the necessary measure of gracious condescension, and -through the slits of his mask he was studying with keen -anxiety what might be hidden behind those stolid and -stern faces and the frowning glances wherewith two pairs -of eyes were steadfastly regarding him. -</p> - -<p> -D'Inchy waited in dutiful respect till <i>Monsieur</i>, Duc -d'Anjou, was pleased to be seated; then he said: -</p> - -<p> -'Monseigneur understood, I hope, how it was that we -did not present our respects to you in person. Such a -ceremony would have set the tongues of our town gossips -wagging more furiously than before.' -</p> - -<p> -Already, it seemed that the presence of the stranger -inside Cambray had created some comment. In these -days, when the Spanish armies swarmed all over the -province, when plots and counter-plots were being constantly -hatched in favour of one political side or another, strangers -were none too welcome inside the city. There was the -constant fear of spies or of traitors, of emissaries from Spain or -France or England, of treason brewed or brewing, which -might end in greater miseries yet for any unfortunate -province which was striving for its own independence and the -overthrow of Spanish tyranny. Gilles, listening with half -an ear to Monseigneur d'Inchy's elaborate compliments, was -inwardly marvelling whether spies had not already come -upon his track and would upset the Queen of Navarre's -plans even before they had come to maturity. He had a -curious and exceedingly uncomfortable sensation of -unreality, as if these two stern-looking Flemings were not -actual personages but puppets moved by an unseen hand -for the peopling of his dreams. He answered the elaborate -flummeries of the governor with a vague: 'I thank you, -Messire.' Then he added a little more coherently: 'I -understood everything, believe me, and must again thank -you for acceding to my wishes and to those of my sister, -the Queen of Navarre.' -</p> - -<p> -'Our one desire, Monseigneur,' continued d'Inchy stiffly, -and still speaking very deferentially, 'our one desire is to -see the sovereignty of the Netherlands secure in your keeping.' -</p> - -<p> -Gilles roused himself. It was no use and ill policy to -boot to allow that feeling of unreality to dominate his mood -so utterly. If he let himself drift upon these waves of -somnolence he might, with one unguarded word, betray -the grave interests which had been committed to his care. -</p> - -<p> -'That is understood, Messire,' he said dryly. 'Messire -de Montigny put the whole matter before me and before my -sister of Navarre. We both fell in readily with your schemes. -As for me, you know my feelings in the matter. I only -asked for delay and consideration ere I pledged myself -irrevocably to so grave an affair.' -</p> - -<p> -'And we, equally readily, Monseigneur,' asserted de -Lalain, 'do place ourselves entirely at your service.' -</p> - -<p> -After which preliminary exchange of compliments, the -Flemings were ready to discuss the matter in all its -bearings. All the arguments which had been adduced by de -Montigny when the proposed marriage was being discussed -before the Queen of Navarre, were once more dished up for -the benefit of <i>Monsieur</i>. Gilles played his part with as much -ease as his want of experience would allow; but he was a -soldier and not a courtier, ill-versed too in the art of guarded -speeches. He fumed and fretted over all these pourparlers -quite as much and more than <i>Monsieur</i> would have -done, and once or twice he caught sight through the slits -of his mask of certain glances of puzzled wonderment which -passed between the two men at a more than usually rough -retort which had escaped his lips. -</p> - -<p> -Half an hour drew its weary length along while the -discussion proceeded, and it was at the very end of that time -that M. le Baron d'Inchy said quite casually: -</p> - -<p> -'Of course, you, Monseigneur, will understand that since -you choose to do your wooing under a mask, our ward, -Madame Jacqueline de Broyart, Dame de Morchipont, -Duchesse et Princesse de Ramèse, will not appear in public -either, save also with a mask covering her face.' -</p> - -<p> -Now Madame la Reyne de Navarre had not thought of this -eventuality, and indeed if it had truly been <i>Monsieur</i> Duc -d'Anjou who had received this ultimatum, he would -undoubtedly have then and there turned on his heel and left -these mulish Flemings to settle their own affairs as they -wished. But Gilles had sworn to see the business through. -Left to himself in this difficulty, he was for the moment -puzzled, but never tempted to give up the game. The two -Flemish lords appeared so determined, and with it all so -pleased, with their counter-stroke, that any kind of -argument would only have ended either in humiliating acquiescence -or in the breaking off of the negotiations then and there. -The latter being of course unthinkable, Gilles thought it -best to take this part of the adventure as lightly as he had -taken the rest. -</p> - -<p> -''Tis hard for a man to woo a maid whose face he is not -allowed to see,' he said, by way of protest. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, Monseigneur is pleased to jest!' was d'Inchy's -calm rejoinder. 'It was agreed that you should come to -Cambray and see the noble lady who holds in her dainty -hand the sovereignty of the Netherlands for her future -lord; but, as Messire de Montigny had the honour to tell you, -Madame Jacqueline de Broyart is not going to be trotted -out for any man's inspection—be he King or Emperor, or -Prince—like a filly that is put up for sale.' -</p> - -<p> -'But man——' retorted Gilles, nettled by the Flemish -lord's coolness. -</p> - -<p> -'I crave Monseigneur's pardon,' broke in d'Inchy with -perfect outward deference; 'but we must remember that -Monseigneur also is here for inspection. If Madame -Jacqueline refuses the alliance, neither I nor my co-guardian -would dream of forcing her choice.' -</p> - -<p> -'That is understood, Messire,' rejoined Gilles coldly. -'And I have set myself the task of wooing the lady with -ardour, so as to win her affection as well as her hand.' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, Monseigneur....' protested the Fleming with a -deprecating smile. 'That is hardly the position, is it? -You have reserved unto yourself the right to withdraw. -Well, we arrogate that same right for our ward.' -</p> - -<p> -'A just arrogation, Messire,' riposted Gilles. 'But why -the mask?' he added blandly. -</p> - -<p> -'If Monseigneur will woo Madame definitely and openly,' -replied d'Inchy firmly, 'she will not wear a mask either. -But then there can be no question of withdrawal if she -consents.' -</p> - -<p> -Now, to woo Madame Jacqueline definitely and openly -was just the one thing Gilles could not do. So there was -the difficulty and there the cunning and subtlety of these -Flemish lords, who had very cleverly succeeded in getting -<i>Monsieur</i> into a corner and in safeguarding at the same -time the pride and dignity of the greatest heiress in Flanders. -Gilles would have given all the worlds which he did not -possess for the power to consult with Madame la Reyne de -Navarre over this new move on the part of the Flemings. -But, alas! she was far away now, flying across France after -her faithless brother, hoping soon to catch him by the tails -of his satin doublet and to drag him back to the feet of the -rich heiress whom that unfortunate Gilles was deputed to woo -and win for him. And Gilles was left to decide for himself, -which he did with a 'Very well, Messire, it shall be as you -wish!' and as gracious a nod and bow to these two obstinate -men as he could bring himself to perform; for, of a truth, -he would gladly have given each a broken head. -</p> - -<p> -Thus the actual discussion of the affair was ended. After -that, there were only a few minor details to talk over. -</p> - -<p> -'You two gentlemen,' Gilles said after a slight pause, -during which he had been wondering whether it were a -princely thing to do to rise and take his leave. 'You two -gentlemen are alone in the secret of this enterprise?' -</p> - -<p> -'For the moment, yes,' replied d'Inchy guardedly. -'But others will have to know ... some might even guess. -I shall have to explain the matter to my private secretary, -and one or two members of my Privy Council have certain -rights which we could not disregard.' -</p> - -<p> -'And what about Messire de Montigny?' queried Gilles -warily. -</p> - -<p> -'He hath gone to Utrecht to join the Prince of Orange.' -</p> - -<p> -'When doth he return?' -</p> - -<p> -'Not before the summer.' -</p> - -<p> -A short, quick sigh of relief escaped Gilles' lips. At the -back of his mind there had always lurked the ever-present -fear of one who wilfully deceives his fellow-men—the fear -of being found out. In this, Montigny was the greatest, -nay! the only danger. With him out of the way, the -chances of discovery became remote. -</p> - -<p> -'To every one else, then, Messire,' he continued more -firmly, 'I shall pass as the Prince de Froidmont.' -</p> - -<p> -'To every one else, Monseigneur,' replied d'Inchy. -</p> - -<p> -'To Madame Jacqueline de Broyart?' -</p> - -<p> -'Certainly, Monseigneur.' -</p> - -<p> -'She hath no suspicions?' -</p> - -<p> -'None.' -</p> - -<p> -'Doth she know that it is your desire she should become -the wife of the Duc d'Anjou ... that she should become -my wife, I mean?' -</p> - -<p> -'No, Monseigneur; she does not.' -</p> - -<p> -'Then I have a clear field before me!' he exclaimed -gaily. -</p> - -<p> -'A clear field, Monseigneur,' broke in de Lalain firmly, -'for two weeks.' -</p> - -<p> -'Two weeks?' retorted Gilles with a quick frown. 'Why -only two weeks?' -</p> - -<p> -'Because,' said the other with solemn earnestness, -'because the Duke of Parma's armies are already swarming -over our province. If they should invest Cambray we -could not hold out alone. Monseigneur must be ready by -then to support us with influence, with men and with -money. If you turned your back on us and on the proposed -alliance with a Flemish heiress, we should have to -look once more to Orange as our future Lord.' -</p> - -<p> -'I understand,' rejoined Gilles dryly. ''Tis an -"either—or" that you place before me.' -</p> - -<p> -Then, as d'Inchy remained respectfully silent, M. de -Lalain broke in abruptly: -</p> - -<p> -'Think you, Monseigneur, that the people of the Netherlands, -after all that they have suffered in intolerance and -religious persecution, would accept a Catholic sovereign -unless his wife, at least, were of <i>their</i> nation and of their -faith?' -</p> - -<p> -A sharp retort hovered on Gilles' lips; already a curt -'Pardi, Messire——' had escaped him, when suddenly he -paused, listening. A loud ripple of laughter, merry, sunny, -girlish, rang out clearly from beyond the monumental doors, -rising in its joyous cadence above the oppressive silence and -solemnity of this gloomy Palace and the grave colloquy of -Monsieur d'Inchy and his colleagues. Only for a moment, -and the laughter died away again, making the silence and -solemnity seem more gloomy than before. It seemed to -Gilles as if it all were part of that same dream, that it was -really intangible and non-existent, just like these sober -seigneurs, like himself, like the whole situation which had -landed him—Gilles de Crohin—into the midst of this mad -adventure. -</p> - -<p> -He threw back his head and laughed in hearty echo. -The whole humour of the situation suddenly struck him -with the full force of its irresistible appeal. Life had been -so dull, so drab, so uneventful of late! Here was romance -and excitement and gaiety; a beautiful maid—Gilles had -become suddenly convinced that she was beautiful—some -blows; some knocks; a master to serve; a beautiful, -sorrowing Queen to console; spurs to be won and a fortune -to be made! -</p> - -<p> -'And, by Heaven, Messire!' he exclaimed lightly, -'The God of Love shall favour me. Your ward is exquisite -and I am very susceptible. What are two weeks? 'Tis -but two seconds a man requires for losing his heart to a -beautiful wench. And if the fickle god fails me,' he added -with a careless shrug of the shoulders, 'well, where's the -harm? After this—this romantic episode, shall we -say?—Madame Jacqueline will either be Duchesse d'Anjou et -d'Alençon, a happy and worshipped bride, or the Prince -de Froidmont will disappear from her ken as unobtrusively -as he came. And you, Messeigneurs,' he concluded lightly, -'will have to offer the sovereignty of the Netherlands to -one who is worthier than I.' -</p> - -<p> -Neither d'Inchy nor de Lalain appeared to have anything -to say after that. They were both looking moody—even -forbidding—for the moment, though they bowed their -heads in humble respect before this prince whose -light-heartedness jarred upon their gravity. -</p> - -<p> -And here the matter ended for the nonce. Gilles took -leave of his stiff-necked hosts and returned to 'Les Trois -Rois,' having declared most solemnly that he must have -time to prepare himself for so strange a wooing. A masked -wench; think on it! It changed the whole aspect of the -situation! A respite of four days was, however, all that -was respectfully but firmly granted to him for this preparation, -and Messire Gilles spent the next few hours in trying -to devise some means whereby he could outwit the Flemish -lords and catch sight of Madame Jacqueline ere he formally -set out to woo her. Of a truth, the dull-witted and stodgy -Flemings whom <i>Monsieur</i> affected to despise, had not much -to learn in the matter of finesse and diplomacy from the -wily Valois! This counter-stroke on their part was a real -slap-in-the-face to the arrogant prince who was condescending -to an alliance, of which every other reigning house -in Europe would have been proud. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap07"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER VII -<br /><br /> -WHY MADAME JACQUELINE WAS SO LATE IN GETTING TO BED -</h3> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -I -</h4> - -<p> -Old Nicolle, restless and cross, was fidgeting about -the room, fingering with fussy inconsequence the -beautiful clothes which her mistress had taken off half -an hour ago preparatory to going to bed—clothes of great -value and of vast beauty, which had cost more money to -acquire than good Nicolle had ever handled in all her life. -There was the beautiful gown which Madame had worn -this evening at supper, fashioned of black satin and all -slashed with white and embroidered with pearls. There -was the underdress of rich crimson silk, worked with gold -and silver braid; there were the stockings of crimson silk, -the high-pattened shoes of velvet, the delicately wrought -fan, the gloves of fine chamois skin, the wide collarette -edged with priceless lace. There was also the hideous -monstrosity called the farthingale—huge hoops constructed -of whalebone and of iron which, with the no less abominable -corset of wood and steel, was intended to beautify and to -refine the outline of the female figure and only succeeded -in making it look ludicrous and ungainly. There were, -in fact, the numberless and costly accessories which go to -the completion of a wealthy lady's toilet. -</p> - -<p> -Madame had divested herself of them all and had allowed -Nicolle to wrap a woollen petticoat round her slender hips -and to throw a shawl over her shoulders. Then, with her -fair hair hanging in heavy masses down her back, she had -curled herself up in the high-backed chair beside the open -window—the open window, an it please you! and the -evening, though mild, still one of early March! Old Nicolle -had mumbled and grumbled. It was ten o' the clock and -long past bedtime. For awhile she had idled away the hour -by fingering the exquisite satin of the gown which lay in -all its rich glory upon the carved dowry chest. Nicolle -loved all these things. She loved to see her young -mistress decked out in all the finery which could possibly be -heaped up on a girlish and slender body. She never thought -the silks and satins heavy when Jacqueline wore them; -she never thought the farthingale unsightly when -Jacqueline's dainty bust and shoulders emerged above it like -the handle of a huge bell. -</p> - -<p> -But gradually her patience wore out. She was sleepy, -was poor old Nicolle! And Madame still sat squatting in -the tall chair by the open window, doing nothing apparently -save to gaze over the courtyard wall to the distance beyond, -where the graceful steeple of St. Géry stood outlined like -delicate lace-work against the evening sky. -</p> - -<p> -''Tis time Madame got to bed,' reiterated the old woman -for the twentieth time. 'The cathedral tower hath chimed -the quarter now. Whoever heard of young people not -being abed at this hour! And Madame sitting there,' -she added, muttering to herself, 'not clothed enough to -look decent!' -</p> - -<p> -Jacqueline de Broyart looked round to old Nicolle with -amusement dancing in her merry blue eyes. -</p> - -<p> -'Not decent?' she exclaimed with a laugh. 'Why, my -dear Colle, nobody sees me but you!' -</p> - -<p> -'People passing across the courtyard might catch sight -of Madame,' said Nicolle crossly. -</p> - -<p> -'People?' retorted Jacqueline gaily. 'What people?' -</p> - -<p> -'Monseigneur had company to-night.' -</p> - -<p> -'They all went away an hour ago.' -</p> - -<p> -'Then there are the varlets and maids——' -</p> - -<p> -'E'en so,' rejoined Jacqueline lightly, 'my attire, -meseems, is not lacking in modesty. I am muffled up to my -nose in a shawl and—— Oh!' she added with a quick sigh -of impatience, 'I am so comfortable in this soft woollen -petticoat. I feel like a human being in it and not like a -cathedral bell. How I wish my guardian would not insist -on my wearing all these modish clothes from Paris! I -was so much more comfortable when I could don what I -most fancied.' -</p> - -<p> -'Monseigneur le Baron d'Inchy,' said Nicolle -sententiously, 'knows what is due to your rank, Madame, and -to your wealth.' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh! a murrain upon my rank and upon my wealth!' -cried the young girl hotly. 'My dear mother rendered me -a great disservice when she bare me to this world. She -should have deputed some simple, comfortable soul for the -work, who could have let me roam freely about the town -when I liked, run about the streets barefooted, with a short -woollen kirtle tied round my waist and my hair flying loose -about my shoulders. I could have been so happy as a -humble burgher's daughter or a peasant wench. I do so -loathe all the stiffness and the ceremony and the starched -ruffles and high-heeled shoes. What I want is to be -free—free!—Oh!——' -</p> - -<p> -And Jacqueline de Broyart stretched out her arms and -sighed again, half-longingly, half-impatiently. -</p> - -<p> -'You want to be free, Madame,' muttered old Nicolle -through her toothless gums, 'so that you might go and meet -that masked gallant who has been haunting the street -with his music of late. You never used to sigh like this -after freedom and ugly gowns before he appeared upon the -scene.' -</p> - -<p> -'Don't scold, old Colle!' pleaded the girl softly. And now -her arms were stretched towards the old waiting-woman. -</p> - -<p> -Nicolle resisted the blandishment. She was really cross -just now. She turned her back resolutely upon the -lovely pleader, avoiding to look into those luminous blue -eyes, which had so oft been compared by amorous swains -to the wild hyacinths that grow in the woods above -Marcoing. -</p> - -<p> -'Come and kiss me, Colle,' whispered the young charmer, -'I feel so lonely somehow to-night. I feel as if—as if——' -</p> - -<p> -And the young voice broke in a quaint little gasp which was -almost like a sob. -</p> - -<p> -In a moment Nicolle—both forgiving and repentant—was -kneeling beside the high-backed chair, and with loving, -wrinkled hands holding a delicate lace handkerchief, she -wiped the tears which had gathered on Jacqueline's long, -dark lashes. -</p> - -<p> -'My precious lamb, my dove, my little cabbage!' she -murmured lovingly. 'What ails thee? Why dost thou -cry? Surely, my pigeon, thou hast no cause to be tearful. -All the world is at thy feet; every one loves thee, and -M. de Landas—surely the finest gentleman that ever walked -the earth!—simply worships the ground thy little foot -treads on. And—and'—added the old woman pitiably—'thy -old Colle would allow herself to be cut into a thousand -pieces if it would please thee.' -</p> - -<p> -Whereupon Jacqueline broke into a sudden, gay and -rippling laugh, even though the tears still glistened on her -lashes. -</p> - -<p> -'I shouldn't at all enjoy,' she said lightly, 'seeing my -dear old Colle cut into a thousand pieces.' -</p> - -<p> -'Then what is it, my beloved?' -</p> - -<p> -Jacqueline made no reply. For a few seconds she remained -quite silent, her eyes fixed into nothingness above -old Colle's head. One would almost have thought that -she was listening to something which the old woman could -not hear, for the expression on her face was curiously tense, -with eyes glowing and lips parted, while the poise of her -girlish figure was almost rigidly still. The flame of the -wax candles in the tall sconces flickered gently in the -draught, for the casement-window was wide open and a -soft breeze blew in from the west. -</p> - -<p> -'Come, my cabbage,' pleaded Nicolle as she struggled -painfully to her feet. 'Come and let thy old Colle put thee to -bed. Thou must be tired after that long supper party and -listening to so much talking and music. And to-morrow -yet another banquet awaits thee. Monseigneur hath -already desired thy presence——' -</p> - -<p> -'I don't want to go to another banquet to-morrow, -Colle,' sighed the young girl dolefully. 'And I am sick -of company and of scrapings and bowings and kissing of -hands—stupid flummery wherewith men regale me because -I am rich and because they think that I am a brainless -nincompoop. I would far rather have supper quietly in -my room every night—quite alone——' -</p> - -<p> -But old Colle evidently thought that she knew better -than that. 'Heu! heu!' she muttered with a shrug of -the shoulders, accompanied by a knowing wink. 'What -chance wouldst thou have then of seeing M. de Landas?' -</p> - -<p> -'I hardly can speak with M. de Landas during those -interminable banquets,' rejoined Jacqueline with a sigh. -'My guardian or else M. de Lalain always seem in the way -now whenever he tries to come nigh me.' -</p> - -<p> -'I'll warrant though that M. de Landas knows how to -circumvent Monseigneur,' riposted the old woman slyly. -Like so many of her sex who have had little or no romance -in a dull and monotonous life, there was nothing that old -Colle enjoyed more than to help forward a love intrigue -or a love adventure. M. de Landas she had, as it were, -taken under her special protection. He was very handsome -and liberal with money, and in his love-making he had all -the ardour of his Southern blood, all of which attributes -vastly appealed to old Colle. The fact that Monseigneur -le Baron d'Inchy did not altogether favour the young man's -suit—especially of late—lent additional zest to Nicolle's -championship of his claims. -</p> - -<p> -'Even so,' said Jacqueline with sudden irrelevance, -'there are moments when one likes to be alone. There -is so much to think about—to dream of——' -</p> - -<p> -'I know, I know,' murmured the old woman crossly. -'Thy desire is to sit here half the evening now by the open -window, and catch a deathly ague while listening to that -impudent minstrel who dares to serenade so great a lady.' -</p> - -<p> -She went on muttering and grumbling and fidgeting -about the room, unmindful of the fact that at her words -Jacqueline had suddenly jumped to her feet; eyes blazing, -small fists clenched, cheeks crimson, she suddenly faced -the garrulous old woman. -</p> - -<p> -'Nicolle, be silent!' she commanded. 'At once! Dost -hear?' -</p> - -<p> -'Silent? Silent?' grumbled the woman. 'I have been -silent quite long enough, and if Monseigneur were to hear of -these doings 'tis old Nicolle who would get the blame. As -for M. de Landas, I do verily believe that he would run his -sword right through the body of the rogue for his impudence! -I know.... I know,' she added, with a tone of spite in -her gruff voice. 'But let me tell thee that if that rascally -singer dares to raise his voice again to-night——' -</p> - -<p> -She paused, a little frightened at the fierce wrath which -literally blazed out of her mistress's eyes. -</p> - -<p> -'Well?' said Jacqueline peremptorily, but in a very -husky voice. 'Why dost thou not finish? What will -happen if the minstrel, whose singing hath given me -exquisite joy these three nights past, were to raise his -heavenly voice again?' -</p> - -<p> -'Pierre will make it unpleasant for him, that's all!' -replied the old woman curtly. -</p> - -<p> -'Pierre?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes; Pierre! M. de Landas' serving-man. I told him -to be on the look-out, outside the postern gate, -and—well!—Pierre has a strong fist and a heavy staff, and...' -</p> - -<p> -In a moment Jacqueline was by Nicolle's side. She -seized the old woman by the wrist so that poor Colle cried -out with pain, and it was as the very living image of a -goddess of wrath that the young girl now confronted her -terrified serving-maid. -</p> - -<p> -'Thou hast dared to do that, Nicolle?' she demanded -in a choked and quivering voice. 'Thou wicked, interfering -old hag! I hate thee!' she went on remorselessly, not -heeding the looks of terror and of abject repentance -wherewith Colle received this floodgate of vituperation. 'I -hate thee, dost hear? And if Pierre doth but dare to lay -hands on that exquisite singer I'll ask M. de Landas to have -him flogged—yes, flogged! And I'll never wish to see thy -face again—thou wicked, wicked Colle!' -</p> - -<p> -Mastered by her own emotion and her passionate resentment, -Jacqueline sank back into a chair, her voice broken -with sobs, and tears of genuine rage streaming down her -cheeks. Nicolle, quite bewildered, had stood perfectly -still, paralysed in fact, whilst this storm of wrathful -indignation burst over her devoted head. In spite of her terror -and of her remorse, there had lingered round her wrinkled -lips a line or two of mulish obstinacy. The matter of -the unknown singer, who had not only ventured to serenade -the great and noble Dame Jacqueline, Duchesse et Princesse -de Ramèse and of several other places, just as if she -were some common burgher's wench with a none too -spotless reputation, had not ended with a song or two: -no! the malapert had actually been impudent enough last -night to scale the courtyard wall and to stand for over half -an hour just below Madame's window (how he knew which -was Madame's window Satan, his accomplice, alone could -tell!) singing away to the accompaniment of a twangy lute, -which she—Nicolle—for one, could never abide. -</p> - -<p> -Fortunately, on that occasion Madame Jacqueline had -been both modest and discreet. She had kept well within -the room and even retired into the alcove, well out of sight -of that abominable rascal; but she would not allow Colle -to close the window and had been very angry indeed when -the old woman with a few gruff and peremptory words had -presently sent the malapert away. -</p> - -<p> -That was yesterday. And now this outburst of rage! -It was unbelievable! Madame Jacqueline of a truth was -hot-tempered and passionate—how could she help being -otherwise, seeing that she had been indulged and adulated -ever since, poor mite of three, she had lost both father and -mother and had been under the guardianship of Monseigneur -d'Inchy and of half a dozen other gentlemen. -Never, however, had Colle seen her quite like this, and for -such a worthless cause! Colle could scarce credit her eyes -and ears. And alas! there was no mistaking the flood -of heartrending weeping which followed. Jacqueline sat -huddled up in her chair, her face buried in her hands, -sobbing and weeping as if her heart would break. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -II -</h4> - -<p> -All the obstinacy in the worthy old soul melted away in -an instant, giving place to heartrending remorse. She -fell on her knees, she took the small feet of her adored -mistress in her hands and kissed them and wept over them -and cried and lamented tearfully. -</p> - -<p> -'Lord God, what have I done?' she called out from the -depths of her misery. 'My dove, my cabbage! Look -at me—look at thy old Colle! Dost not know that I would -far sooner bite my tongue out than say one word that -would offend thee? My lamb, wilt not look at Colle?—I -vow—I swear that I'll die here on the spot at thy feet, -if thou'lt not smile on me!' -</p> - -<p> -Gradually as the old woman wept and pleaded, Jacqueline -became more calm. The sobs no longer shook her -shoulders, but she still kept her face hidden in her hands. -A few minutes went by. Colle had buried her old head in -the young girl's lap, and after a while Jacqueline, regally -condescending to forgive, allowed her hand to fall on the -bowed head of the repentant sinner. -</p> - -<p> -'I'll only forgive thee, Colle,' she said with solemn -earnestness, 'if Pierre doth not lay a finger upon that heavenly -singer—but, if he does——' -</p> - -<p> -Colle struggled to her feet as quickly as her stiff joints -would allow. -</p> - -<p> -'I'll go and find the varlet myself,' she said fiercely, -ready to betray with cowardly baseness the confederate of -awhile ago, now that she had propitiated the mistress whom -she adored. 'M. de Landas hath not yet left the Palace, -and if Pierre dares but raise his hand against that -mal—hem!—against the noble singer whom thou dost honour -with thine attention, well! he'll have to reckon with old -Colle; that is all!' -</p> - -<p> -With Jacqueline de Broyart—who in herself appeared the -very embodiment of spring, so full of youth, of grace and of -vitality was she—sunshine and storm came in rapid succession -over her moods, just as they do over the skies when the -year is young. Already her eyes, bathed in tears of rage -awhile ago, were glistening with pleasure, and her lips, which -had pouted and stormed, were parted in a smile. -</p> - -<p> -'Go, Colle!' she said eagerly. 'Go at once, ere it be too -late and that fool Pierre——' -</p> - -<p> -The words died upon her lips. The next instant she had -jumped down from her chair and run to the window. From -some distance down the street there had come, suddenly -wafted upon the wings of the wind, the sound of a voice -singing the well-known verses of Messire de Ronsard: -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'Mignonne, allons voir si la rose<br /> - Qui ce matin avait desclose<br /> - Sa robe de pourpre au soleil<br /> - A point perdu cette vesprée<br /> - Les plis de sa robe pourprée<br /> - Et son teint au vostre pareil.'[<a id="chap07fn1text"></a><a href="#chap07fn1">1</a>]<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap07fn1"></a> -[<a href="#chap07fn1text">1</a>] 'Mignonne, come see if the rose<br /> - That this morning did unclose<br /> - Her purple robe to the sun<br /> - Hath not ere this evening lost<br /> - Of those purple petals most<br /> - And the tint with your tint one.'<br /> -<br /> -(Translation by Mr. Percy Allen. <i>Songs of Old France</i>.) -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Jacqueline knelt upon the window-seat, but she could -see nothing, so she turned back piteously to murmur to -old Colle: 'Oh! if I could only see him!' -</p> - -<p> -The old woman, after the experience of the past few -minutes, was ready to do anything, however abject, to -further her mistress' desire. -</p> - -<p> -'Put on thy mask, my pigeon,' she said, 'and then lean -well out of the window; but not too far, for fear M. de Landas -should happen to be passing in the courtyard and should see -thee with thy hair down. No, no!' added the old hypocrite -obsequiously, 'there is no harm in listening to so sweet a -singer. I'll get thy purse, too, and thou canst throw him a -coin or two. No doubt the poor fellow is down-at-heels and -only sings to earn his supper.' -</p> - -<p> -And humble, fussy, still snivelling, Nicolle shuffled across -the room, found the satin mask and brought it to her mistress. -Jacqueline fixed it over her face; then she leaned as far -out of the window as she dared to do without fear of falling -out. And, if M. de Landas saw her, why! he would be -so gladdened at the sight that he would have no ear for a -mere street musician, whilst she—Jacqueline—was just now -in so soft a mood that if M. de Landas happened to scale -the wall to her casement-window—as he had more than once -threatened to do—she would return his kisses in a way that -she had never done before. -</p> - -<p> -For she was deeply in love with M. de Landas, had been -for years. She had plighted her troth to him when she was -a mere child, and she loved him—oh yes! she loved him -very, very much, only... -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -III -</h4> - -<p> -There was the width of the courtyard and the tall wall -between Jacqueline and the street where stood the singer -whom she so longed to see. She had caught sight of him -yesterday when, to Nicolle's horror, he had boldly scaled -the wall and then had lingered for nigh on half an hour -beneath her window, singing one merry song after another, -till her young heart had been filled with a new joy, the cause -of which she herself could not quite comprehend. -</p> - -<p> -She had watched him unseen, fearful lest some of the -serving-men should see him and drive him away. Fortunately -Chance had been all in favour of her new romance. -M. de Landas was on duty at the Forts that night; her -guardian was still closeted with some other grave seigneurs, -and the serving-men were no doubt too busy to trouble -about a harmless minstrel. As for the wenches about the -place, they had stood about in the doorways, listening with -delight at the impassioned songs and gaping in admiration -at the splendid bearing of the unknown cavalier. -</p> - -<p> -Thus the singer had stood in the courtyard for some -considerable time, his martial figure silhouetted against the -clear, moonlit sky, his voice rising and falling in perfect -cadence to the accompaniment of a soft-toned lute, whilst -Jacqueline, hidden within the shadow of the window-embrasure, -listened spellbound, her whole youth, her ardent, -loving soul exultant at this romance which was taking birth -at her feet. -</p> - -<p> -And now he had come back, and the very night seemed to -bid him welcome. It was still quite early in March, yet -the air was soft as spring. All day the birds had been -twittering under the eaves, and on the west wind had come -wafted gently the scent of budding almond blossom and of -the life-giving sap in the branches of the trees. -</p> - -<p> -The stately city with its towers and steeples and cupolas -lay bathed in the light of the honey-coloured moon. Far -away on the right, the elegant church of Saint Géry up on -the Mont-des-Boeufs seemed like a bar of silver which -attached old Cambray to the star-studded firmament above, -and around it were grouped the tall steeples of St. Martin, -St. Waast and St. Aubert, with the fine hexagon of Martin -et Martine which crowned the Town Hall; whilst, dominating -this forest of perfect and rich architecture, was the mass -of the cathedral close by, with its tall pointed steeple, its -flying buttresses, its numberless delicate pinnacles picked -out as by a fairy hand against the background of deep -azure. -</p> - -<p> -But Jacqueline de Broyart had for the nonce no eyes for -all that beauty. What cared she if the wintry moon outlined -all these lovely heights with delicate lines of silver? What -cared she if the shadows of stately edifices appeared full of -a golden glow by contrast with the cold blue of the lights? -Her eyes were fixed, not on the tower of St. Géry nor on -the steeple of Notre Dame: they rested upon that high -and cruel wall which hid the unknown singer from her -sight. -</p> - -<p> -'Mignonne!' he sang out gaily. 'Allons voir la rose——' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh!' sighed Jacqueline with passionate longing. 'If -I only could——!' -</p> - -<p> -And her fancy went soaring into a world of romance—a -world far away from the sordid strifes, the political intrigues, -the quarrels of to-day; a world wherein men were all -handsome and brave and women were all free to grant them -their hand to kiss, to listen to their songs, to reward their -prowess, to receive their homage unfettered by convention—a -world, in fact, such as Messire de Froissart had chronicled -and of which Messire Villon had sung so exquisitely. -</p> - -<p> -Then suddenly Jacqueline's dreams were rudely interrupted, -as was also the song of the unseen minstrel. Loud -voices were raised and there was a clash which made -Jacqueline's very heart turn cold in her bosom. -</p> - -<p> -'Colle!' she cried excitedly. -</p> - -<p> -But Colle had shuffled out of the room some little while -ago, in search of Pierre, no doubt, whom evidently she had -failed to find. And out there behind that cruel wall the -rough hands of that abominable varlet were being laid on -the precious person of the unsuspecting minstrel. Jacqueline -felt literally paralysed both with terror and with wrath. -Colle had spoken of Pierre's stout arm and still stouter -stick, but there was also the possibility of M. de Landas -himself being about, and then—oh, then! ... Ye heavens -above! anything might happen! ... Oh! the wicked, -wicked old woman and that execrable Pierre! ... and -... and of course M. de Landas' jealousy was sometimes -terrifying! -</p> - -<p> -'God in Heaven!' sighed Jacqueline. 'I entreat Thee -to protect him!' -</p> - -<p> -The noise of the scuffle in the street became louder and -louder. There were cries of rage as well as of pain. Blows -were evidently raining freely—on whom? My God, on -whom? Then, from further up the street, came the sound -of running footsteps as well as the stern voice of the night -watchmen hurrying to the scene. Jacqueline would have -bartered some years of her life to see what was going on -the other side of the wall. Only a minute or two had gone -by: to the young girl it had seemed like hours of suspense. -And now these people all rushing along, no doubt in order -to give a hand to Pierre—to fall on the unarmed minstrel—to -lay hands upon him—to belabour him with sticks—to -wound or hurt him—to—— -</p> - -<p> -Jacqueline uttered a loud cry of horror. It was the -echo of one of terror, of pain and of rage which came from -the other side of the wall. The next moment a dark mass -appeared over the top of the wall, silhouetted against the -moonlit sky. To Jacqueline's straining eyes it seemed like -the body of a man which, for the space of a brief second, -seemed to hover in mid air and then fell with a dull thud -upon the paving-stones of the courtyard below. -</p> - -<p> -Jacqueline closed her eyes. She felt sick and faint. -To her ears now came the sound of loud groans and vigorous -curses. And then—oh, then!—loud laughter and the last -bar of the interrupted song—a sound indeed which caused -her at once to open her eyes again; whereupon she, too, -could have laughed and sung for joy. The inert mass still -lay in a heap at the foot of the wall; Jacqueline could -vaguely discern its outline in the gloom, whilst up on the -top of the wall, astride, hatless, lute in hand, sat the masked -minstrel with his head turned gazing toward her window. -</p> - -<p> -She clapped her hands with glee, and he, with a loud cry -of 'Mignonne!' swung himself down from the wall and -ran across the courtyard until he came to a halt just beneath -her window, and even in the dim light of this wintry moon -Jacqueline thought that she could see his eyes glowing -through the holes in the mask. -</p> - -<p> -It was all so joyous, so gay, so romantic; so different—ah! so -very, very different—to the dreary monotony of -Jacqueline's daily existence! This masked and unknown -minstrel! His daring, his prowess, aye! his very impudence, -which laughed at high walls and defied an army of varlets! -There was Pierre moaning and groaning, disarmed and helpless, -having been tossed over the wall just as if he were a -bale of cumbersome goods! Serve him right well, too, for -having dared to measure his valour against that of so proud -a cavalier! Pierre was not hurt—oh, Jacqueline was quite -sure that he was not hurt! Nothing, nothing whatever, -was going to be wrong on this lovely, glorious evening! -No! Pierre would soon be healed of his wounds; but it -was ludicrous to see him stretched out just there, where he -thought he could lay the noble singer low! -</p> - -<p> -'Mignonne, allons voir si la rose,' sang the mysterious -minstrel; and Jacqueline's young heart, which was filled -with the joy of romance, the exquisite rapture of ideals, -suddenly ached with a passionate longing for—for what? -She did not know. She had had so many things in life: -riches, beauty, adulation, aye! and the love of a man whom -she loved in return. But now it seemed to her as if, in spite -of all that, in spite of M. de Landas and his love, she had -really lacked something all the time—something that was -both undefinable and mystic and yet was intensely and -vividly real, something that would fill her life, that would -satisfy her soul and gladden her heart, in a way that -M. de Landas' love, his passionate kisses, had never succeeded -in doing hitherto. -</p> - -<p> -And somehow all this longing, all this thirst for a -still-unknown happiness, seemed personified in the singer with -the tall, broad stature and the mellow voice; it was embodied -in the honey-coloured moon, in the glints of silver and gold -upon the steeples of Cambray, in the scent of the spring -and the murmurs of the breeze. Jacqueline pressed her -hands against her heart. She was so happy that she could -have cried. -</p> - -<p> -Beside her on the window-sill stood a tall vase fashioned -of Dutch clay. It was filled with tall-stemmed Madonna -lilies, which had been produced at great cost in the -hot-houses belonging to her own estate in Hainault. Their -powerful scent had filled the room with its fragrance. -Without thought or hesitation, Jacqueline suddenly pulled -the sheaf out of the vase and gathered the flowers in her -arms. The tender, juicy stems were wet and she took her -embroidered handkerchief out of her pocket and wrapped -it round them; then she flung the whole sheaf of lilies out -of the window and watched to see them fall, bruised and -sweet-smelling, at the minstrel's feet. -</p> - -<p> -Then, half-ashamed, laughing a little hysterically, but -thoroughly happy and excited, she drew quickly back into -the room and hastily closed the casement. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -IV -</h4> - -<p> -When, ten minutes or so later, Nicolle came back, shame-faced, -remorseful and not a little frightened, she was surprised -and delighted to find her young mistress sitting quite -composedly in a high-backed chair in the centre of the room, the -window closed, and the lady herself quite eager to go to -bed. -</p> - -<p> -'Thou hast been gone a long time, Colle,' said the young -girl carelessly. 'Where hast thou been?' -</p> - -<p> -Old Colle sighed with relief. The Lord be praised! -Madame had evidently seen and heard nothing of that vulgar -scuffle which had ended in such disaster for poor Pierre, and -in such a triumph for the impudent rascal who had since -disappeared just as quickly as he came. -</p> - -<p> -'I just went round to see that those wenches were all -abed and that their lights were safely out,' replied the old -woman with brazen hypocrisy. -</p> - -<p> -'And didst speak to Pierre on the way?' queried Jacqueline, -who had assumed the quaintest possible air of simple -ingenuousness. -</p> - -<p> -'Aye!' replied the old woman dryly. 'I spoke to -Pierre.' -</p> - -<p> -'What did he say?' -</p> - -<p> -'Nothing of importance. We talked of to-morrow's -banquet.' -</p> - -<p> -'To-morrow's banquet?' -</p> - -<p> -'Do not feign surprise, my pigeon,' rejoined old Colle, -who was decidedly out of humour. 'I even asked thee -to-night, before taking off thy gown, if thou wouldst wear -that one or another on the morrow.' -</p> - -<p> -'I remember,' replied Jacqueline with a yawn, 'I said that -I did not care what I wore, as I hated banquets, and company -and bowings and——' -</p> - -<p> -'But Monseigneur said that the banquet to-morrow would -be for a special occasion.' -</p> - -<p> -'When did he say that?' -</p> - -<p> -'A moment or two ago—to Pierre.' -</p> - -<p> -'And what will the special occasion be to-morrow?' -</p> - -<p> -Nicolle looked mysterious. -</p> - -<p> -'Maybe,' she said, 'that it is not altogether unconnected -with Monseigneur de Landas.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why with him?' asked Jacqueline eagerly. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh! I am only putting two and two together, my -cabbage,' replied old Colle with a sly wink. 'There is talk of -distinguished guests in Cambray, of betrothals, and -... and ... -</p> - -<p> -'Betrothals?' -</p> - -<p> -'Why, yes. Thou art nearly twenty, my pigeon, and -Monseigneur, thy guardian, will have to make up his mind -that thou wilt marry sooner or later. I always thought that -he did favour Monseigneur de Landas, until——' -</p> - -<p> -'Until what?' queried Jacqueline impatiently. -</p> - -<p> -'There are so many rumours in the air,' replied Colle -sententiously. 'Some talk of the Duc d'Anjou, who is own -brother to the King of France.' -</p> - -<p> -Jacqueline made a little moue of disdain. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh! <i>Monsieur</i>!' she said carelessly. -</p> - -<p> -'A very great and noble prince, my pigeon.' -</p> - -<p> -'I am tired of great and noble princes.' -</p> - -<p> -'But Monseigneur, the Duc d'Anjou...' -</p> - -<p> -'Is one of the many, I suppose, who want my fortune, my -family connexions, the Sovereignty of the Netherlands. -Bah!' she added with an impatient sigh. 'They sicken me!' -</p> - -<p> -'A great lady, my cabbage,' said Nicolle solemnly, 'cannot -follow the dictates of her heart like a common wench.' -</p> - -<p> -'Why!' exclaimed Jacqueline. 'Methought thou wast -all for M. de Landas!' -</p> - -<p> -'So I am, my pigeon, so I am!' rejoined the old woman. -'He is a very distinguished gentleman, who loves thee -ardently. But if there's one who is own brother to the King -of France....' And old Colle gave an unctuous sigh when -she spoke the exalted name. -</p> - -<p> -'Bah!' retorted Jacqueline with a careless shrug of the -shoulders. 'There are others too! And no one can force -me into a marriage whilst my heart is pledged to M. de -Landas.' -</p> - -<p> -'No, no! Thank God for that!' assented Colle piously. -'As for the others ... well! their name is legion ... some -of them will be at the banquet to-morrow.... There is -the Marquis de Hancourt, a fine-looking youth, and that -horrid German prince whom I cannot abide! The English -lord hath gone away, so they say, broken-hearted at thy -refusal; but there's the Spanish duke, whose name I cannot -remember, and Don José, own son to the Emperor.... -As for that stranger——' she added with a contemptuous -shrug of the shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -'The stranger?' queried Jacqueline lazily. 'What -stranger? -</p> - -<p> -'Well, I don't know much about him. But Pierre, feeling -crestfallen, did admit that Monseigneur chided him severely -for having shown a want of respect to a gentleman who -ought to have known better than to pretend to be a street -musician.' -</p> - -<p> -But Jacqueline appeared all of a sudden to have lost -interest in the conversation. 'Ah!' she said with -well-assumed indifference, 'then the street musician of awhile -ago was a gentleman in disguise?' -</p> - -<p> -'Aye! so Pierre said—the fool!' quoth old Colle -unblushingly. 'Monseigneur was very angry with him when he -heard of the altercation with the singer, threatened to speak -of the matter to M. de Landas and have Pierre flogged or -dismissed for his interference. Then he hinted that the -stranger, far from being a street musician, was a foreign -seigneur of high degree, even if of scanty fortune.' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh!' commented Jacqueline carelessly. -</p> - -<p> -'And he e'en ordered Pierre to go and apologize most -humbly to the stranger, who it seems is lodging in a very -poor hostelry known as "Les Trois Rois," just close to the -Porte Notre Dame.' -</p> - -<p> -Jacqueline ostentatiously smothered a yawn. -</p> - -<p> -'I think I'll go to bed now, Colle,' she said. -</p> - -<p> -But Colle's tongue, once loosened, could not so easily -be checked. -</p> - -<p> -'Town gossip,' she went on with great volubility, 'has -been busy with that stranger for the past two days. 'Tis -said that he is styled Monseigneur le Prince de Froidmont; -though what a prince should be doing in a shabby hostel -in that squalid quarter of the city I, for one, do not -know—nor why he should be going about masked and cloaked -through the city in the guise of a vagabond.' -</p> - -<p> -'Perhaps the vagabond is no prince after all,' suggested -Jacqueline. -</p> - -<p> -'That's what I say,' asserted Colle triumphantly. 'And -that's what Pierre thought until Monseigneur told him that if -he did not go at once and offer his humble apologies he surely -would get a flogging, seeing that the Prince de Froidmont -would actually be a guest at the banquet to-morrow, -and would of a certainty complain to M. de Landas.' -</p> - -<p> -'A guest at the banquet!' exclaimed Jacqueline -involuntarily.' -</p> - -<p> -'Aye!' assented Colle. 'Didst ever hear the like! But -he must be a distinguished seigneur for all that, or -Monseigneur would not bid him come.' -</p> - -<p> -'No, I suppose not,' said Jacqueline with perfect indifference. -'The Prince de Froidmont?' she added with a little -yawn. 'Is that his name?' -</p> - -<p> -'So the town gossips say,' replied Colle, who was busy -just then in wrapping the bed-gown round her young -mistress's shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -'And he comes to the banquet to-morrow?' -</p> - -<p> -'So Monseigneur said to Pierre.' -</p> - -<p> -Jacqueline said nothing more for the moment, appeared -to have lost all interest in the masked musician and in -Pierre's misdeeds. She stretched out her arms lazily -while vigorous old Colle picked her up as if she were a baby -and carried her—as she was wont to do every night—to her -bed. -</p> - -<p> -She laid her down upon the soft feather mattress and -spread the fine coverlets over her. The alcove wherein -stood the monumental bedstead was in semi-darkness, for -the light from the wax candles in the sconces about the room -failed to penetrate into the recess. But that semi-darkness -was restful, and for awhile Jacqueline lay back against the -pillows, with eyes closed, in a state of that complete -well-being which is one of the monopolies of youth. Nicolle, -thinking that Madame would be dropping off to sleep, made -a movement to go; but Jacqueline's small white hand had -hold of the old woman's bony fingers, and old Colle, abjectly -happy at feeling the pressure, remained quite still, -waiting and watching, gazing with doglike devotion on the -lovely face—lovely in repose as it was when the light of -gaiety and roguishness danced in the blue eyes. -</p> - -<p> -After a few minutes of this silent beatitude, Jacqueline -opened her eyes and said in a dreamy voice, half-asleep: -</p> - -<p> -'Tell me, Colle, which is my prettiest gown?' -</p> - -<p> -And Nicolle—herself more than half-way to the land of -Nod—roused herself in order to reply: 'The white one -with the pearls, my pigeon.' -</p> - -<p> -She was sufficiently awake to feel quite happy at the -thought that Madame was suddenly taking an interest in her -clothes, and continued eagerly: 'It hath an underdress of -that lovely new green colour which hath become the mode -of late, and all embroidered with silver. Nothing more -beautiful hath ever been fashioned by tailors' art, and in it -Madame looks just like an exquisite white lily, with the -delicate green stem below.' -</p> - -<p> -'Well then, Colle,' rejoined Jacqueline dreamily, -'to-morrow evening I will wear my white satin gown with the -pearls and the underdress of green and silver, and Mathurine -must study a new way of doing my hair with the pointed -coif which they say is so modish now in France. I will -wear my stockings of crimson silk and my velvet shoes, -and round my neck I'll wear the ropes of pearls which my -dear mother did bequeath to me; in my ears I'll have the -emerald earrings, and I'll wear the emerald ring upon my -finger. I wish I had not that ugly mole upon my left -cheek-bone, for then I could have had one of those tiny -patches of black taffeta which are said to be so becoming -to the complexion....' -</p> - -<p> -She paused, and added with quaint wistfulness: 'Think -you, Colle, that I shall look handsome?' -</p> - -<p> -'As lovely as a picture, my dear one,' said Nicolle with -enthusiasm. 'As exquisite as a lily; fit only to be the -bride of a King.' -</p> - -<p> -Jacqueline gave a quick sigh of satisfaction, after which -she allowed Colle to give her a kiss and to bid her a final -'good night.' -</p> - -<p> -And even as she fell gradually into the delicious and -dreamless sleep of youth, her lips murmured softly: -'I wonder!' -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap08"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER VIII -<br /><br /> -WHAT BECAME OF THE LILIES -</h3> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -I -</h4> - -<p> -Gilles had spent four days at the hostelry of 'Les -Trois Rois,' and here he would have liked to remain -indefinitely and to continue the sentimental romance so -happily begun beneath the casement-windows of the -Archiepiscopal Palace. With the light-heartedness peculiar to -most soldiers of fortune, he had during those four days -succeeded in putting his rôle out of his mind. Though he -had not yet caught sight of Madame's face at her window, -he quite thought that he would do so in time, and already -he had received more than one indication that his singing -was not unwelcome. The casement had been deliberately -thrown open when he had scaled the courtyard wall, and -had resumed his song immediately beneath the window -which he had ascertained belonged to Madame's private -apartment. He had felt, even though he did not actually -see, that some one was listening to him from up there, for -once he had perceived a shadow upon the casement curtain, -and once a hand, small and delicate, had rested upon the -window-sill. Gilles would have continued this -wooing—aye! perhaps have brought it to a happy conclusion, he -thought—without being forced to assume another personality -than his own: a thing which became more and more -abhorrent to Messire Gilles' temper, now that the time -for starting the masquerade in earnest was drawing nigh. -</p> - -<p> -'We could make ourselves very happy here, honest Jehan,' -he had said to the faithful companion of his many adventures. -'Waited on by that silent and zealous youth, who -of a truth looks like the very ghost of silence and discretion. -With judicious economy, the money which a gracious Queen -hath placed in our hands would last us a year. It seems -a pity to fritter it all away in a few weeks by playing a -rôle which is detestable and unworthy.' -</p> - -<p> -'B-b-b-but——' stammered old Jehan. -</p> - -<p> -'You are quite right,' broke in Gilles gravely. 'Your -argument is very sound. The money, my friend, was given -unto us in order to play a certain rôle, and that rôle we -must now play whether we like it or not, on pain of being -branded as vagabonds and thieves.' -</p> - -<p> -'V-v-v-very——' stammered poor Jehan. -</p> - -<p> -'As you say,' remarked Gilles dryly, 'I have always found -you of good counsel, my friend. Very likely—that is what -you would say, is it not?—very likely, unless we played -our parts as Madame la Reyne de Navarre did direct, -Monseigneur le Baron d'Inchy would discover the fraud -and have us both hanged for our pains. And if the -hangman did happen to miss us, Madame Marguerite would -certainly see to it that a gibbet was ready for us somewhere -in France. So for this once, I think, mine honest Jehan, -we must take it that honesty will be the best policy.' -</p> - -<p> -'O-o-o-only th-th-th-that——' -</p> - -<p> -'Quite so!' assented Gilles, 'only that in this case we -cannot contrive to remain honest without being dishonest, -which is a proposition that doth gravely disturb my mind.' -</p> - -<p> -'Th-th-th-the o-o-o-only——' -</p> - -<p> -'Hold your tongue, friend Jehan,' broke in Gilles -impatiently. 'Verily, you talk a great deal too much!' -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -II -</h4> - -<p> -And now, at the very close of the fourth day, Messire -Gilles made noisy irruption into the tiny room which he -occupied in the hostelry of 'Les Trois Rois.' Maître -Jehan—after the stormy episode outside the postern gate wherein -he had taken part—was in the room, waiting for his master. -</p> - -<p> -Gilles was in the rarest of good humour. As soon as he -had closed the door behind him, he threw his plumed toque -and the lute upon the table and, sitting down on the narrow -paillasse which was his bed, he fell to contemplating a bunch -of white lilies which he had in his hand. The stems of these -lilies were carefully wrapped in an embroidered handkerchief, -but they hung their bruised, if still fragrant, heads in a -very doleful manner. -</p> - -<p> -Gilles laughed softly to himself. Then he held the -flowers out at arm's length and called out gaily to Jehan: -</p> - -<p> -'Congratulate me, honest Jehan!' he said. 'The first -act of our adventurous comedy is over. The curtain has -rung down on a veritable triumph! I have received a token! -... I have captured the first bastion in the citadel of the -fair one's heart! Give me a week, and I hold the entire -fortress for and on behalf of <i>Monsieur</i> Duc d'Anjou, our -august master!' -</p> - -<p> -'Th-th-th-then you h-h-h-have——' -</p> - -<p> -'No, I have not seen her, my good man. All that fine -fight outside the walls, the complete discomfiture of our -assailants, my perilous position inside the courtyard, from -whence a reinforcement of varlets might easily have put -me to flight, did not win for me even a glimpse of the lady. -But her window was wide open this time, and I could see -her shadow flitting past the casement. Then suddenly these -lilies were flung at me. They were crushed and bruised -against the pavement as they fell; but they are a token, -friend Jehan, and you cannot deny it! Madame Jacqueline's -heart is already touched by the song of the unknown -troubadour, and he hath but to present himself before her -to be graciously received.' -</p> - -<p> -'B-b-b-b-but——' said Jehan with grave solemnity. -</p> - -<p> -'That's just it!' broke in Gilles with a laugh. 'You -have a way, my friend, of hitting the right nail on the head. -As you say, the four days' respite which have been granted -to us have now expired, and we have not yet seen the future -Duchesse d'Anjou face to face.' -</p> - -<p> -'N-n-n-not yet! Th-th-th-that——' -</p> - -<p> -'That is the trouble, I grant you. There is that infernal -masquerade; and of a truth, I am more convinced than -ever that the reason why those noble mynheers are so -determined that Madame shall not show her face ere I have -irrevocably committed myself—I—that is, the Duc -d'Anjou—that is—— Oh, my God!' he exclaimed. 'What a -tangle!! Well, as I was saying.... By the way, what -was I saying just now?' -</p> - -<p> -'Th-th-th-that——' -</p> - -<p> -'Of course! You incorrigible chatterbox! I would have -explained my meaning before now if you had not talked -nineteen to the dozen all the time! I mean that I have -completely changed my mind, and that I have become convinced -that Madame Jacqueline is as ugly as sin, else those -wily Dutchmen would not be so anxious to cover up her face.' -</p> - -<p> -'Th-th-th-therefore——' asserted Jehan stoutly. -</p> - -<p> -'Therefore, my good man, good fortune is in our debt. -She did not favour me with a sight of the lady ere I meet -her in my official capacity. But Madame Jacqueline hath -given me a token: she is prepared to love me, and I am -still in the dark as to whether she squints or is pitted with -pock-marks. A terrible position for any man to be in!' he -sighed dolefully, 'even though he is out a-courting for a -friend.' -</p> - -<p> -'B-b-b-but——' -</p> - -<p> -'You mean well, my friend,' quoth Gilles, who fell to -contemplating the bunch of faded lilies with a rueful -expression of face. 'You mean well, but you talk too much, -and thus I am thrown on mine own resources for counsel -in an emergency. As for arguments! Why, you would -argue the devil's horns from off his head! Still,' he added, -as he finally flung the lilies away from him with a careless -gesture of indifference, 'still, in spite of what you say, I -must stick to my bargain. Those mulish mynheers will -not grant us any further delay, and to-morrow I am pledged -to appear at the governor's banquet—yes, even I!—<i>Monsieur</i> -Duc d'Anjou et d'Alençon, own brother to the King of -France, and you as my faithful servitor.' -</p> - -<p> -'N-n-n-not a m-m-minute t-t-too soon,' Maître Jehan -managed to blurt out quickly whilst Gilles had paused for -breath. -</p> - -<p> -'Ah! there you are wrong, my friend,' retorted Gilles. -'For my taste, the dénouement is coming along at far too -rapid a pace. To-morrow, already our troubles will begin—peace -will know us no more. I for one will never rightly -know who I am; nor will I know who it is who will know -who I am not. Oh, my Lord!' he added in mock despair, -as he rested his elbows on his knees and buried his head -in his hands. 'My head will split ere I have done! Tell -me, Jehan, who I shall be to-morrow.' -</p> - -<p> -'T-t-t-to-morrow,' stammered Jehan with painful earnestness, -'you—you—you——you will b-b-b-b-be——' -</p> - -<p> -'Own brother to His Majesty the King of France,' said -Gilles, 'and as great blackguard as ever disgraced a Royal -house. To Monseigneur the governor, and maybe also to -some of his friends, I shall be a Royal prince. To others, -and notably to Madame Jacqueline de Broyart, I shall be -the Prince de Froidmont—an insignificant and penniless -seigneur who only dares approach the far-famed heiress -under cover of a mask, having fallen desperately in love with -her. Ah, Jehan! Jehan!' he added with mock solemnity, -'thou art of a truth a lucky devil! Thou canst keep thine -own name, thine own rank, even thine own ludicrous -stutter: whereas I,—what shall I be? A mime! A buffoon! -And what's more, a fraudulent varlet, pledged to deceive an -innocent wench into the belief that her future lord is both -sentimental and amorous and can sing the love ditties writ -by Messire de Ronsard with passable tunefulness.... -Ye gods, Jehan, hast ever heard <i>Monsieur</i> Duc d'Anjou—the -real one, I mean—sing?' -</p> - -<p> -'N-n-n-no!' objected Jehan in pious horror, for he did -not like to hear so exalted a personage derided. -</p> - -<p> -'Then hast ever heard the barn-door rooster calling to -his favourite hen?' -</p> - -<p> -'S-s-s-s-sometimes!' -</p> - -<p> -'Well!' quoth Gilles lightly, 'so have I. And I prefer -the barn-door rooster! And now to bed, friend Jehan,' he -added as he jumped to his feet. 'To-morrow is the great -day! Didst take my letter to the governor's palace?' -</p> - -<p> -'I d-d-d-did.' -</p> - -<p> -'And didst see Monseigneur the governor himself?' -</p> - -<p> -Jehan nodded affirmatively. -</p> - -<p> -'Gave him my letter?' -</p> - -<p> -Another nod from Jehan. -</p> - -<p> -'Did he look pleased?' -</p> - -<p> -A shrug of the shoulders this time. -</p> - -<p> -'Said he would be honoured to see Monseigneur le Duc -d'Alençon et d'Anjou at the banquet to-morrow?' -</p> - -<p> -Once again a nod. -</p> - -<p> -'Then to bed, chatterbox!' concluded Gilles gaily, 'for -to-morrow I begin my career as a low, deceitful hound, fit -only for the gibbet, which I dare swear is already prepared -for me!' -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -III -</h4> - -<p> -Jehan helped his master to undress. He pulled off the -heavy boots and laid aside the cloth jerkin, the kerseymere -trunks and worsted hose. Then, when Messire Gilles lay -stretched out upon the hard paillasse, honest Jehan bade him -a quiet good night and went off carrying the guttering candle. -For one candle had to do duty for two customers, or even at -times for three, at the hostel of 'Les Trois Rois.' These were -not days of luxurious caravanserai: eight square feet of -floor space, a tiny leaded window, a straw paillasse, perhaps -a table and a rickety chair, made up the sum total of a -furnished bedroom, if destined for a person of quality. -Men like Maître Jehan had to be content with the bare -boards and a horse-blanket outside their master's door, or -behind a wooden partition set up inside the latter's room. -</p> - -<p> -Jehan went off, then, with the candle, and Gilles de -Crohin remained in almost total darkness, for the light of -the moon failed to penetrate through the narrow aperture -which went by the name of window. For a long time Messire -Gilles lay motionless, staring into the gloom. Vague -pictures seemed to flit before his gaze: the unknown girl -whom he was pledged to woo appeared and disappeared -before him, now walking across his line of vision with stately -dignity, now dancing a wild rigadoon like some unruly -country wench; but always, and with irritating persistence, -wearing a mask which he longed to drag away from her face. -Then he saw pictures of fair Marguerite of Navarre, imperious -yet appealing, and of his own cross-hilted sword, upon the -sacred emblem of which he had pledged himself to an ugly -deception; Monsieur Duc d'Anjou, indolent and vapid, -dressed in that ludicrous green satin suit, came and mocked -him through the darkness. -</p> - -<p> -Gilles de Crohin, wearied with all these phantasmagoria, -began tossing restlessly upon his hard bed, and as he did -so he flung his arm out over the coverlet and his hand -came in rough contact with the floor. And there, close to -his touch, was something soft and velvety, the drooping, -fading lilies which an unknown lady of high degree had -flung out to him and which he had so carelessly tossed -aside. His hand closed tightly upon the flowers, crushing -the last spark of life out of the fragrant blossoms, and even -as he did so—quite unconsciously and mechanically—an -unpleasant pang of remorse shot right through his heart. -Was this unconscious act of his a presage of the cruel rôle -which he had set out to play? Would the young soul of an -innocent girl droop and wither beneath his careless touch? -</p> - -<p> -Very gently now Gilles, turning on his side, gathered -the flowers together and drew them towards him. Something -of their fragrance still lingered in the bruised petals. -Gilles got out of bed. His eyes had become accustomed to -the darkness, or perhaps something of the radiance of the -moonlit night had penetrated into the narrow room. Gilles -could see his way about, and he remembered that in the -further corner there had stood a pitcher filled with fresh -water. With infinite precaution he unwound the handkerchief -from around the stems and then dropped the flowers -one by one into the pitcher. After awhile he picked up -the handkerchief. It was nothing now but a damp and -sodden little ball, but it smelt sweetly of lilies and of lavender. -Gilles marvelled if the lady's initials and coronet were -embroidered in the-corner. He felt with his fingers in order -to make sure; but he was too inexperienced in such matters -to arrive at any definite conclusion, so with a sudden impulse -which he would not have cared to analyse, he searched the -darkness for his doublet, and having found it he thrust the -damp little rag into its breast-pocket. -</p> - -<p> -Then, with a laugh at his own folly and a light shrug -of the shoulders, he went back to bed. This time he fell at -once into a dreamless sleep. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap09"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER IX -<br /><br /> -HOW MESSIRE GILLES WAS REMINDED OF A DREAM -</h3> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -I -</h4> - -<p> -In Maître C. Calviac's treatise on the manners and tone -of good society, which he published in the year 1560[<a id="chap09fn1text"></a><a href="#chap09fn1">1</a>] -for the guidance of those who desired to frequent the -company of the Great, we are told that 'when we enter the -presence of exalted personages, we must walk on the tips of -our toes, incline our body and make a profound obeisance.' And -further, Maître Calviac goes on to explain the many -different modes of saluting, which we might adopt for the -occasion: 'Firstly,' he says, 'we can uncover our right -hand, with it lower our hat by stretching the arm down -along our right thigh and leaving our left hand free. -Secondly, we can regard humbly and reverentially the -exalted one whom we desire to salute. Thirdly, we can -lower our gaze and advance our right foot whilst drawing -the left one slightly back. We can also take off the glove -from our right hand, incline our body, and after nearly -touching the ground with our hand, carry our fingers to our -lips, as if in the act of imprinting a kiss upon their tips.' -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="footnote"> -<a id="chap09fn1"></a> -[<a href="#chap09fn1text">1</a>] La Civile Honnêteté, par C. Calviac. Paris 1560. in-12. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Finally, our accomplished monitor tells us that the embrace -is yet another form of salute which cannot, however, be -practised save between persons of equal rank or those who -are bound to one another by ties of kinship or of especial -friendship. In that case, the most civil manner of thus -saluting is for each to place the right hand on the top of the -other's shoulder and the left hand just below, and then -present the left cheek one to the other, without touching -or actually kissing the same. -</p> - -<p> -We may take it that Monseigneur le Baron d'Inchy, -governor of the province of Cambrésis, being an exalted -personage himself and closely connected by family ties with -Madame Jacqueline de Broyart—whose guardian and protector -he was—did adopt the latter mode of salutation when, -at eight o'clock precisely of the following evening, he -presented himself before his young ward for the purpose of -conducting her to the State dining-room, where a banquet -in honour of several distinguished guests was already spread. -We may take it, I say, that Monseigneur the governor did -take off his right-hand glove, advance his right foot and walk -on the tips of his toes; that he did place one hand on Madame -Jacqueline's shoulder, whilst she did the same to him, and -that they each presented the left cheek to one another in -accordance with the laws of propriety laid down by Maître -Calviac. -</p> - -<p> -Monseigneur was accompanied by a young man whose -manners and demeanour were even more punctilious and -ceremonious than those of his companion. The airs and -graces wherewith he advanced in order to greet Madame -Jacqueline would have done honour to a Grand Master at -the Court of the Spanish King. And, indeed, many did aver -that M. le Marquis de Landas had Spanish blood in his veins, -and that, though he was a Netherlander by birth, and a -Protestant by practise, he was a Spaniard and a Papist by -tradition—which fact did not tend to make him popular -in the Cambrésis, where the armies of Alexander Farnesse, -Duke of Parma, were already over-running the villages, -rumour being rife that they were about to threaten Cambray. -</p> - -<p> -'Twas well said of M. le Marquis de Landas that none -knew better than he how to turn a compliment. Perhaps -that same strain of Spanish blood in him had given him -glibness of tongue and the languorous look in the eyes which -had rendered many a favoured lady proud. He was known -to be of exalted lineage but not endowed with fortune, -connected too with some of the noblest families both in -Flanders and in Spain, and had lately come to the Cambrésis -as aide-de-camp to his kinsman, the baron d'Inchy, -who had promptly given him command of the garrison of -Cambray. -</p> - -<p> -So much for facts that were known. But there were -rumours and conjectures, not altogether false, it seems, that -M. de Landas was a suitor for Madame Jacqueline's hand—one -of the many, of course; for her hand was sought far -and wide. She would bring a rich dowry as her marriage -portion to any man who was lucky enough to win her, and -also the influence of her Flemish kinsmen, who had already -boldly asserted that the Sovereignty of the Netherlands -would go with the hand of Madame Jacqueline de Broyart. -</p> - -<p> -Many favoured the French alliance; others preferred the -Netherlander with the strain of quasi-royal Spanish blood -in him. The Marquis de Landas would prove a useful link -between the Spaniards and the Netherlanders, would know -how to smoothe many difficulties, calm the obstinate -temperament of the Dutch and gloss over the tyranny of -their masters. He had suave manners and a persuasive -tongue, useful in politics. The ladies of Cambray at once -adored him: his olive skin, his dark hair which clustered -in heavy waves above the well-cut oval of his face, his large -brown, velvety eyes, were all destined to please the fair -sex. He wore a silky moustache and the small, pointed -beard on his chin, and his cheeks were of a blue-black colour -all down where the barber shaved him every day. Whene'er -he gazed on a young and pretty woman his eyes would -assume an amorous expression and his lips were curved and -of a bright cherry-red, like those of a girl. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -II -</h4> - -<p> -Between Jacqueline and her young kinsman there had -sprung just that kind of love which is made up of passion -on the one side and innocent devotion on the other. At -first it had flourished almost unopposed—ignored, probably, -as being of no importance. Monseigneur d'Inchy's plans for -his ward had been both immature and vague, for, until a -year or so ago Jacqueline had a brother living—Jan, a couple -of years older than herself, who was the owner of the rich -Netherlands duchies and on the point of taking unto himself -a wife. But, with the death of that brother, Jacqueline -at once became a personage of vast importance. She had -remained the sole possessor of the princely heritage and -thereby a pawn in the political game in which the Sovereignty -of the Netherlands was the priceless guerdon. -</p> - -<p> -Monseigneur d'Inchy's plans began to mature: ineligible -and obscure suitors were quickly given the cold shoulder -and an imaginary barrier was drawn around Madame -Jacqueline into the inner circle of which only scions of kingly -or great princely houses were allowed to enter. Jacqueline's -dowry rendered her a fit mate even for a King. -</p> - -<p> -Even M. de Landas, more highly connected than most, -backed too by his Royal Spanish kindred, found that his -position as an approved suitor had suddenly become gravely -imperilled. Monseigneur d'Inchy no longer looked on him -as an altogether desirable mate for the richest heiress in the -Netherlands, now that one of the sons of the Emperor, a -reigning German duke, and the brother of the King of -France, were among those who had entered the lists for her -favours. -</p> - -<p> -But, as is nearly always the case in such matters, the -boy and girl affection ripened, with this growing opposition, -into something more ardent and more passionate. M. de -Landas, who hitherto had dallied with his pretty cousin -just to the extent that suited his wayward fancy, suddenly -realized that he was very deeply enamoured of her; jealousy -did the rest, transforming transient sentiment into impetuous -and exacting fervour. -</p> - -<p> -As for Jacqueline, though she was no longer a mere child, -she was totally inexperienced and unversed in the knowledge -of human hearts—not excepting her own. She loved de -Landas dearly, had loved him ever since he first began to -speak of love to her. It is so difficult for a girl, as yet -untouched by searing passion, to distinguish between -sentimental affection and the love which fills a life. Landas -whispered amorous, tender, flattering words in her ear, had -fine, flashing eyes which, with their glance of bold admiration, -were wont to bring the warm blood to her cheeks. He had -a way with him, in fact, which quickly swept her off her -feet in the whirlpool of his infatuation, long before she had -learned that there were other streams whereon she could -have launched her barque of life, with a greater certainty of -happiness. -</p> - -<p> -Her heart was touched by his ardour, even though her -senses were not fully awakened yet; but she yielded to his -caresses with a girlish surrender of self, not realizing that -the thrill of pleasure which she felt was as ephemeral as it -was shallow. She admired him for his elegant manners, -which he had acquired at the Spanish Court, for they stood -out in brilliant contrast to the more uncouth Flemish ways; -whilst his admiration for her was so unbounded that, despite -herself, the young girl felt enraptured by his glowing looks. -</p> - -<p> -To-night she knew that she was beautiful, and that consciousness -lent her a quaint air of dignity and self-possession. -An unwonted excitement which she could not account for -caused her eyes to shine like stars through the slits of her -mask. De Landas could only gaze in rapt wonderment -at the vision of radiant youth and loveliness which stood -before him in the person of Jacqueline de Broyart. -</p> - -<p> -'You are more adorable to-night than ever, my beloved,' -he contrived to whisper to her behind Monseigneur d'Inchy's -back. 'And I am thankful that Monseigneur's orders have -decreed that so much beauty shall remain hidden from -unworthy eyes.' -</p> - -<p> -Monseigneur, it seems, just caught these last few words, -but mistook their exact meaning. 'All the ladies, my dear -de Landas,' he said somewhat tartly, 'who belong to our -circle will appear masked at all future public functions until -I myself do rescind this order.' -</p> - -<p> -'I was not complaining, Messire,' retorted de Landas -dryly. 'On the contrary, I, as a devoted friend, have -reason to rejoice at the order, seeing that several strangers -will be at your banquet this night, and it were certainly not -seemly for ladies of exalted rank to appear unmasked before -them.' -</p> - -<p> -He paused awhile, noting with pleasure that his bold -glance had brought a glow to Jacqueline's delicate throat and -chin. Then he murmured softly: -</p> - -<p> -''Tis only when the strangers have departed that we, who -have the privilege of intimacy, can call on the ladies to -unmask.' -</p> - -<p> -'Even you, my dear de Landas,' broke in d'Inchy curtly, -'must be content to wait until I decide to grant you special -favours. Shall we go below, Madame?' he added, turning -to Jacqueline. 'The banquet is spread for nine o'clock.' -</p> - -<p> -Jacqueline, who had scarce uttered a word since the -gentlemen entered the room, appeared almost as if she were -waking from a trance. Her eyes had a vague, expectant -look in them which delighted de Landas, for his vanity at -once interpreted that look as one caused by his presence -and his own fascination. But now that she encountered -her guardian's cold, quizzical glance, the young girl pulled -herself together, laughed lightly and said with a careless -shrug of her pretty shoulders: -</p> - -<p> -'Nay, then, Monseigneur; 'twill not be my fault if we -are late, for I've been dressed this past half-hour, and oh!' -she added with a mock sigh of weariness, 'Ye gods! How -bored I have been, seeing that I detest all these modish -Parisian clothes almost as much as I do a mask, and have -chafed bitterly at having to don them.' -</p> - -<p> -'You would not have been bored, Madame,' riposted de -Landas with elaborate gallantry, 'had you but glanced once -or twice into your mirror, for then you would have been -regaled with a sight which, despite the cruel mask, will set -every man's heart beating with joy to-night!' -</p> - -<p> -She received his formal compliment more carelessly than -was her wont, and he, quick to note every shade of -indifference or warmth in her demeanour, frowned with vexation, -felt a curious, gnawing pang of jealousy assail him. Jacqueline -was so young, so adulated, so very, very beautiful! -This was not the first time of late that he had asked himself -whether he could hope to enchain her lasting affection, as -he had done her girlish fancy ... and had found no -satisfactory answer to the bitterly searching question. But she, -equally quick to note his moods, quite a little in awe of -his outbursts of jealousy, which she had learned to dread, -threw him a glance which soon turned his moodiness into -wild exultation. After which, Jacqueline turned to Nicolle, -who was standing by, gazing on her young mistress in rapt -adoration. -</p> - -<p> -'Give me my fan and gloves, dear Colle,' she said. -</p> - -<p> -And when Colle had given her these things, she put on her -gloves and, holding her fan in one hand and the edge of -her satin skirt with the other, she made a low curtsey before -her guardian, looking shy and demure in every line of her -young figure, even though the mask hid the expression of -her face. -</p> - -<p> -'Does my appearance,' she asked, 'meet with -Monseigneur's approval?' -</p> - -<p> -The answer was so obvious that M. d'Inchy—who was -somewhat nervy and irritable this evening—said nothing -but a sharp, 'Come, Jacqueline!' Whereupon she placed -her hand upon his left arm, and without glancing again -in her lover's direction, she walked sedately across the room. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -III -</h4> - -<p> -The dining hall on the floor below was brilliantly lighted -for the occasion. At one end of it three tables had been -laid for eighty-two guests; they were spread with fine linen -and laden with silver dishes and cut glass. -</p> - -<p> -In the centre of the room the company was already -assembled: gentlemen and ladies whom Monseigneur, -governor of Cambray and the Cambrésis, desired to honour -and to entertain. They had entered the room in accordance -with their rank, those of humble degree first—one or two -of the more important burghers of the town and their wives, -members of the municipal council and mayors of the various -guilds. The gentlemen of quality followed next, for it was -necessary, in accordance with usage, that persons of lower -rank should be present, in order to receive those who stood -above them in station. -</p> - -<p> -It would be a laborious task to enumerate all the personages -of exalted rank who filed into the stately hall, one after -another, in a veritably brilliant and endless procession. The -Magistrate—elected by the Governor—was there as a matter -of course, so was the Provost of the City, and one or two of -the Sheriffs. Naturally, the absence of the Archbishop and -of the higher clergy detracted somewhat from the magnificence -of the pageant, but Monseigneur d'Inchy had taken -possession of the city, the province and the Palace, and the -Archbishop was now an exile in his own diocese. On the -other hand, the Peers and Seigneurs of the Province were -well represented: we know that Monseigneur de Prémont -was there, as well as Monseigneur d'Audencourt and -Monseigneur d'Esne and many other wealthy and -distinguished gentlemen and their ladies. -</p> - -<p> -Most of the ladies wore masks, as did many of the men. -This mode had lately become very general in Paris, and the -larger provincial towns, who desired to be in the fashion, -were never slow in adopting those which hailed from the -French capital. The custom had its origin in the inordinate -vanity of the time—vanity amounting to a vice—and which -hath never been equalled in any other epoch of history. -Women and men too were so vain of their complexions -and spent so much upon its care, used so many cosmetics, -pastes and other beautifiers, that, having accomplished a -veritable work of art upon their faces, they were loth to -expose it to the inclemencies of the weather or the fumes of -tallow candles and steaming food. Hence the masks at -first, especially out of doors and during meals. Afterwards, -they became an attribute of good society. Ladies of rank -and fashion wore them when strangers were present or when -at a ball they did not desire to dance. To remove a mask -at the end of a meal or before a dance was a sign of familiarity -or of gracious condescension: to wear one became a sign -of exalted rank, of high connexions and of aloofness from -the commoner herd of mankind. Whereupon those of -humbler degree promptly followed suit. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -IV -</h4> - -<p> -When M. le Baron d'Inchy entered the dining hall, having -Madame Jacqueline de Broyart on his arm and followed -by M. le Marquis de Landas, the whole company was -assembled in order to greet the host. -</p> - -<p> -Jacqueline's entry was hailed with an audible murmur of -admiration and a noisy frou-frou of silks and satins, as the -men bowed to the ground and the ladies' skirts swept the -matting of the floor. The murmur of admiration increased -in boldness as the young girl went round the company in -order to welcome her friends. -</p> - -<p> -And, indeed, Jacqueline de Broyart fully deserved that -admiration. As you know, Messire Rembrandt painted her -a year or so later in the very dress in which she appeared -this night—a dress all of shimmering white satin and pearls, -save for the peep of delicate green and silver afforded by -the under-dress, and the dark crimson of her velvet shoes -and silk stockings. The steel corset encased her young -figure like a breastplate, coming to a deep point well below -the natural waist, whilst round her hips the huge monstrosity -of the farthingale hid effectually all the natural grace of her -movements. In Rembrandt's picture we see the dainty -face, round and fresh as a flower, with the nose slightly -tip-tilted, the short upper lip and full, curved mouth; we -also see the eyes, large and blue, beneath the straight -brow—eyes which had nothing of the usually vapid expression -of those that are blue—eyes which, even in the picture, seem -to dance with merriment and with joy, and to which the -tiny brown mole, artfully placed by nature upon the left -cheek-bone, lent an additional air of roguishness and of -youth. -</p> - -<p> -To-night, her girlish figure was distorted by hoops of -steel, but even these abominations of fashion could not mar -the charm of her personality. Her figure looked like an -unwieldy bell, but above the corset her shoulders and her -young breasts shone like ivory set in a frame of delicate -lace; her blue eyes sparkled with unwonted excitement, -and beneath the flickering light of innumerable wax candles -her hair had gleams of coppery gold. -</p> - -<p> -But, above all, there was in Jacqueline de Broyart the -subtle and evanescent charm of extreme youth and that -delicious quality of innocence and of dependence which -makes such an irresistible appeal to the impressionable -hearts of men. Just now, she was feeling peculiarly happy -and exhilarated, and, childlike, being happy herself she was -prodigal of smiles: the small element of romance which had -so unaccountably entered into her life with the advent of -the mysterious singer had somehow made the whole world -seem gay and bright in a way which de Landas' passionate -and exacting love had never succeeded in doing. It had -dissipated the pall of boredom and ceremonious monotony -which was as foreign to Jacqueline's buoyant nature as was -the corselet to her lissom figure. The light of mischief and -frolic danced in her eyes, even though at times, for a moment -or two, de Landas, who observed her with the keenness and -persistence of a jealous lover, would detect in her manner -a certain softness and languor which made her appear more -alluring, more tantalizing perhaps, then she had ever been. -</p> - -<p> -As she entered the room, she gave a quick and comprehensive -glance on the assembled company. -</p> - -<p> -'Tell me, Monseigneur,' she whispered in her guardian's -ear, 'has the stranger arrived?' -</p> - -<p> -'The stranger?' retorted d'Inchy. 'What stranger?' -</p> - -<p> -'Pardi! Monsieur le Prince de Froidmont,' she said. -'Who else?' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh!' replied d'Inchy with well-assumed indifference, -'the Prince de Froidmont has certainly arrived before now. -He is not a person of great consequence. Why should you -be interested in him, my dear Jacqueline?' -</p> - -<p> -To this Jacqueline made no answer, looked down her nose -very demurely, so that only her blue-veined lids could be -seen through the slits of her mask. She drew up her slim -figure to its full height, looked tall and graceful, too, despite -that hideous farthingale. Friends crowded round her and -round Monseigneur the governor, and she was kept busy -acknowledging many greetings and much fulsome flattery. -M. le Marquis de Landas never swerved from her side. He, -too, wore a mask, but his was a short one which left the -mouth and chin free, and all the while that other men—young -ones especially—almost fought for a look or a smile -from the beautiful heiress, his slender hand was perpetually -stroking and tugging at his moustache—a sure sign that -his nerves were somewhat on edge. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -V -</h4> - -<p> -Monseigneur d'Inchy left his ward for a moment or two -in the midst of all her friends and admirers and drew -Monseigneur de Lalain into a secluded portion of the room. -</p> - -<p> -'Well!' he began curtly, as soon as he felt assured that -there were no eavesdroppers nigh. 'He is here.' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes!' said de Lalain, also sinking his voice to a whisper. -'He came early, as one who is of no account, and at once -mixed with the throng.' -</p> - -<p> -'You were here when he arrived?' -</p> - -<p> -'No. But I came soon after.' -</p> - -<p> -'Was there much curiosity about him?' -</p> - -<p> -'Naturally,' replied de Lalain. 'Our good bourgeois of -Cambray do not often have the chance of gossiping over so -mysterious a personality.' -</p> - -<p> -'But did they receive him well?' -</p> - -<p> -De Lalain shrugged his shoulders and, by way of reply, -pointed to the further end of the room, where a tall figure, -richly though very sombrely dressed and wearing a mask of -black satin, stood out in splendid isolation from the rest of -the crowd. -</p> - -<p> -Gilles, from where he stood, caught de Lalain's gesture -and d'Inchy's scrutinizing look. He replied to both by a -scarce perceptible obeisance. His keen eyes under the shield -of the mask had already swept with a searching glance over -the entire company. Strangely enough, though the success -of his present adventure was bound up in a woman, it was -the men's faces that he scanned most eagerly at first. A -goodly number of them wore masks like himself, but when -he drew himself up for a moment to his full height with a -movement that was almost a challenge, he felt quite sure -in his own mind that he would at once detect—by that subtle -instinct of self-preservation which is the attribute of every -gambler—if danger of recognition lurked anywhere about. -</p> - -<p> -He himself had never been to Cambray, it is true, and -he was a knight of such humble degree that it was not very -likely that, among this assembly of Flemish notabilities, -some one should just happen to know him intimately enough -to denounce him as the adventurer that ne really was. -Still, the danger did exist—enough of it, at any rate, to add -zest to the present situation. Light-hearted and careless -as always, Gilles shrugged his broad shoulders and turned -his attention to the ladies. -</p> - -<p> -Here, though there also was suspicion, there was -undoubtedly keen interest. Over the top of Monseigneur -d'Inchy's head Gilles could see at the end of the room the -group of ladies, gay in their brilliantly-coloured satin dresses -and their flashing jewels, like a swarm of butterflies, and -standing as closely together as their unwieldy hoops would -allow. He felt that at least a score pairs of eyes were fixed -upon him through the narrow slits of satin masks, and that -murmured comments upon him and his appearance, conjectures -as to his identity and his rank, flew from many a -pair of lovely lips. -</p> - -<p> -Right in the very centre of that group was a woman all -dressed in white, with just a narrow peep of pale green -showing down her skirt, which gave to her person the appearance -of a white lily on its stem. Something immature about -the shoulders and the smooth, round neck—something shy -yet dignified about the poise of the head, suggested youth -not yet fully conscious of its beauty and its power, while -the richness of her attire and of her jewels proclaimed both -wealth and high position. Murmurs and remarks among -the gentlemen around him soon made it clear to Gilles that -this was the lady whom he had been sent to woo. Agreeably -thrilled by the delicate curves of her throat and breast, -he thought that he might spend some very pleasant hours -in sentimental dalliance with so fair a maid. -</p> - -<p> -'We must have that mask from off your face, madonna,' -he said to himself; 'and not later than this night! In -affairs of the heart, even by proxy, one does not like to -venture in the dark.' -</p> - -<p> -So intent was he on his own meditations that he failed -to note the approach of a young cavalier, dressed in rich -garments of sober black, who suddenly addressed him in a -slightly ironical tone, which however appeared intended to -be friendly. -</p> - -<p> -'You seem to be a stranger here, Messire,' the young -cavalier said lightly. 'Can I be of any service?' -</p> - -<p> -He spoke French very fluently but with a slight guttural -accent, which betrayed Spanish blood and which for some -unexplainable reason grated unpleasantly on Gilles de -Crohin's ear. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, Messire!' replied the latter quietly, 'I pray you do -not waste your time on me. I am a stranger, it is true; but -as such, the brilliant picture before me is full of interest.' -</p> - -<p> -'You are visiting Cambray for the first time?' asked the -other, still with an obvious effort at amiability. -</p> - -<p> -'For the first time—yes, Messire.' -</p> - -<p> -'In search of fortune?' -</p> - -<p> -'As we all are, methinks.' -</p> - -<p> -'Cambray is scarce the place to find it.' -</p> - -<p> -'Is that your experience of it, Messire?' -</p> - -<p> -De Landas frowned and a sharp retort obviously hovered -on his lips. He appeared morose and captious about -something; probably the fact that Jacqueline had evinced an -extraordinary interest in the masked stranger had acted as -an irritant on his nerves. -</p> - -<p> -But already Gilles appeared to have completely forgotten -his presence, had only listened with half an ear to the -Spaniard's laboured amenities. For the nonce he was -vaguely conscious that through the slits of her mask, the -lily-like maid kept her eyes fixed very intently upon him. -</p> - -<p> -'Monseigneur the governor,' de Landas was saying just -then, 'desires your presence, Messire. He wishes you to -pay your respects to the noble Dame Jacqueline de Broyart.' -</p> - -<p> -The name acted like magic on Gilles' temper. He pulled -himself together and with a cool 'At your service, Messire!' -he followed de Landas across the room. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -VI -</h4> - -<p> -The presentation had been made. It was very formal and -very distant; it even seemed to Gilles as if Jacqueline had -somewhat ostentatiously turned away from him as soon as -he had gone through the ceremonious bowings and kissing -of hand which convention demanded. For a moment or -two after that, M. d'Inchy kept him in close converse, -whilst de Landas, evidently reassured by Jacqueline's -indifference toward the stranger, appeared much more -amiable and serene. But the young Spaniard's mind was -apparently still disturbed. He studied the other man with -an intentness which, in those days of fiery and quarrelsome -tempers, might almost have been construed into an insult. -He appeared to chafe under the man's cool confidence in -himself and M. d'Inchy's obvious deference towards one who -outwardly was of no account. -</p> - -<p> -Gilles took no further notice of him; but, as he would -have told you himself, he felt an atmosphere of hostility -around him, which appeared to find its origin in de Landas' -attitude. D'Inchy, aided by de Lalain, did his best to -dissipate that atmosphere, but evidently he, too, felt oppressed -and nervy. Unversed in the art of duplicity, he was making -almost ludicrous efforts to appear at his ease and to hide his -profound respect for a prince of the House of France under -a cloak of casual friendliness—an elephantine effort which -did not deceive de Landas. -</p> - -<p> -Gilles alone appeared unconscious of embarrassment. His -mind was not properly enchained either to M. d'Inchy's -difficulties or to the young Spaniard's growing enmity. His -thoughts were for ever breaking bounds, turning at every -moment to the girlish figure in the unwieldy hoops and the -white satin gown, whose merry laugh was like the twittering -of robins in the early days of spring. Even at this moment -his attention had been arrested by a little episode which -occurred at the end of the room, where she was standing. -A little, sudden cry of pain rang out from beneath one of the -satin masks. Some one had evidently been hurt—a prick -from a pin, perhaps, or a toe trodden on. Anyhow, there -was the cry, and Messire Gilles would have thought nothing -more of it only that the next moment a girlish voice reached -his ear—a voice quite tearful and trembling with compassion. -</p> - -<p> -'Think you it will heal?' the voice said tenderly. -</p> - -<p> -And then it appeared to Gilles as if something in his -brain had suddenly been aroused, as if memory—a vague, -dreamy memory—had become quickened and like some -intangible sprite had taken a huge leap backwards into some -dim and remote past which the brain itself was still unable -to reach or to seize upon. It was not a recollection, nor yet -a definite thought; but for one moment Gilles remained -absolutely still and was conscious of a curious, swift beating -of his heart, and a still more strange, choking sensation in -his throat. -</p> - -<p> -The whole episode had occurred within the brief compass -of half a dozen heart-beats, and Gilles, when he looked once -more on Monseigneur d'Inchy, still saw that same look of -perplexity upon the Fleming's face, whilst from the group -of ladies in the distant part of the room there came only -the same confused murmur of voices of awhile ago. -</p> - -<p> -So Gilles sighed, thinking that his excited fancy had been -playing him an elusive trick. -</p> - -<p> -And the next moment the loud clanging of a bronze bell -proclaimed to the assembled guests that the banquet was -ready to be served. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap10"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER X -<br /><br /> -HOW THE QUARREL BEGAN -</h3> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -I -</h4> - -<p> -Monsieur le Baron D'Inchy took his seat at -the head of the principal table; beside him sat -his ward, Madame Jacqueline de Broyart, who had M. le -Comte de Lalain on her left. Gilles sat some little way -down one of the side tables. Outwardly, he was a person -of no importance—a stranger, travelling incognito and -enjoying for the time being the hospitality of Monseigneur the -governor. Maître Jehan, watchful and silent, stood behind -his master's chair. The tables had been lavishly and -sumptuously laden with good things: a perpetual stream of -butlers, pages and varlets had walked in and out of the hall, -bringing in dish after dish and placing them upon the -boards. -</p> - -<p> -The company sat down amidst much laughter and facetious -conversation, and, we take it, every intention of enjoying -their host's good cheer. And, of a truth, it was a brilliant -assembly, a veritable kaleidoscope of colours, an almost -dazzling sparkle of jewels. The dark doublets worn by the -men acted as foils to the vivid satins worn by the ladies. -The host and his principal guests had high-backed chairs to -sit on, but every one else sat on low stools, set very far -apart so as to give plenty of room for the display of the -ladies' dresses and their monstrous farthingales. Indeed, -the men almost disappeared between the billows of satin-covered -hoops and the huge lace collars, the points of which -would tickle their nose or scratch their ear or even get into -their eye. -</p> - -<p> -While the serving-men and wenches went the round of -the tables with serviettes over their shoulders and silver -ewers and basins in their hands, offering to the guests tepid -water perfumed with orange flower, with myrtle, lavender -and rosemary, for washing their hands, Gilles de Crohin was -watching Jacqueline de Broyart. From where he sat, he -could see her dainty head above a forest of silver -dish-covers. She had not removed her mask; none of the ladies -would do that till, mayhap, after the banquet was over, when -conviviality and good cheer would breed closer intimacy. -To Gilles' senses, rendered supersensitive by his strangely -adventurous position, it seemed as if that piece of black satin, -through which he could only perceive from time to time the -flash of glowing eyes, rendered Jacqueline's personality both -mysterious and desirable. He was conscious of an acute -tingling of all his nerves; his own mask felt as if it were -weighted with lead; the fumes of rich soups and sauces, -mingled with those of wine and heady Flemish ale, appeared -to be addling his brain. He felt as if he were in a -dream—a dream such as he had never experienced before save -once, when, sick, footsore and grievously wounded, he had -gone on a brief excursion to Paradise. -</p> - -<p> -Gilles did not know, could not explain it satisfactorily -to himself, why the remembrance of a far-off, half-forgotten -dream-voice came, with sweet persistency, between him and -reality, a voice tender and compassionate, even whilst a -pair of eyes, blue as the firmament on an April morning, -seemed to be gazing on him through the slits in the mask. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -II -</h4> - -<p> -It would have been difficult for any stranger who happened -to have landed in Cambray, unacquainted with the political -circumstances of its province, to have realized, at sight of -Monsieur le gouverneur's table, that the Spanish armies were -even then ravaging the Cambrésis, and that provisions in -the city were becoming scarce owing to the difficulties which -market-gardeners and farmers had of bringing in their produce. -Gilles, who had been in the service of a Royal prince -of France and who had oft risen from the latter's table -with his stomach only half filled, was left to marvel at the -prodigality and the sumptuousness of the repast. Indeed, -one of the most interesting documents preserved until -recently in the archives of the city of Cambray, is the account -of this banquet which M. le Baron d'Inchy, governor of the -Cambrésis, gave ostensibly in honour of the notabilities of -the province, but which, I doubt not, was really in honour of -<i>Monsieur</i> Duc d'Anjou et d'Alençon, brother of the King of -France, who we know was present on the occasion, under -a well-preserved incognito. -</p> - -<p> -And the menu! Ye gods who preside over the arts of -gastronomy, what a menu! Eighty-two persons sat down to it, -and of a truth their appetite and their digestion must -have been of the staunchest, else they could never have -grappled successfully with half the contents of the dishes -which were set before them. Three separate services, an' -it please you! and each service consisting of at least forty -different dishes all placed upon the three tables at once, -with the covers on; then, at a given signal, the covers -removed, and the guests ready to help themselves as they -felt inclined, using their knives for the purpose, or else those -curiously shaped pronged tools which Monseigneur d'Inchy -had lately imported out of England, so the town gossips -said. -</p> - -<p> -Ye gods, the menu! For the first service there were no -fewer than eight centre dishes, on each an <i>oille</i>—that most -esteemed feat of gastronomic art, in which several succulent -meats, ducks, partridges, pigeons, quails, capons, all had -their part and swam in a rich sauce flavoured with sundry -aromatic substances, pepper and muscat, thyme, ginger, -basil and many sweet herbs. Oh, the <i>oille</i>, properly cooked, -was in itself a feast! But, grouped around these noble -dishes were tureens of partridges, stewed with cabbage; -tureens of fillets of duckling; several pigeon pies and capons -in galantine; fillets of beef with cucumbers and fricandeaus -of lard; and such like insignificant side dishes as quails -in casserole and chickens baked under hot cinders—excellent -I believe! -</p> - -<p> -After the platters and dishes had become empty, the first -service was removed, clean cloths spread upon the tables—for -by this time the first ones had become well spattered -with grease—and perfumed water once more handed round -for the washing of hands. Knives were washed too, as well -as the forks—the few of them that were used. Then came -the second service. Breasts of veal this time, larded and -braised, formed the centre dishes and the minor adjuncts -were fowls garnished with spring chickens and hard-boiled -eggs, capons, leverets, and pheasants garnished with quails: -there were sixteen different kinds of salads and an equal -number of different sauces. -</p> - -<p> -Again the service was removed and clean cloths laid for -the third service. A kind of dessert—little things to pick -at, for those who had not been satisfied. Such little things -as boars' heads—twelve of them—which must have looked -magnificent towering along the centre of the table; omelettes -à la Noailles—the recipe of which, given in a cookery -book which was printed in the beginning of the sixteenth -century, does suggest something very succulent—dishes of -baked custards, fritters of peaches, stewed truffles, artichokes -and green peas, and even lobsters, sweetbreads and tongues! -</p> - -<p> -Such abundance is almost unbelievable, and where all the -delicacies came from I, for one, do not pretend to say. -They were there, so much we know, and eighty-two ladies -and gentlemen must have consumed them all. No wonder -that, after the first few moments of formal ceremonies—of -bowings and scrapings and polite speeches—tongues quickly -became loosened and moods became hilarious; wine too -and heady Flemish ales were copiously drunk—not a little -of both was spilled over the fine linen cloths and the rich -dresses of the ladies. But these little accidents were not -much thought of these days; fastidiousness at meals had -not yet come to be regarded as a sign of good breeding, and -a high-born gentleman was not thought any the worse of for -vulgar and riotous gorging. -</p> - -<p> -A very little while ago, M. d'Inchy himself—a man of -vast wealth and great importance—would have been quite -content to help himself with his fingers out of his well-filled -platters and to see his guests around his board doing the -same. But ever since the alliance with France had been -discussed by his Council, he had desired to bring French -manners and customs, French fashions in dress, French -modes of deportment, into this remote Belgian province. -Indeed, he was even now warmly congratulating himself -that he had quite recently imported from England for his -own use some of those pronged tools which served to convey -food to the mouth in a manner which still appeared strange -to some of his guests. The civic dignitaries of Cambray -and more than one of the Flemish nobles assembled here -this night looked with grave puzzlement, even with disapproval, -at those awkward tools which had so ostentatiously, -they thought, been placed beside their platter: French -innovations, some of them murmured contemptuously, of -which they certainly did not approve; whereupon they -scrambled unabashed with their fingers in the dishes for -their favourite morsels. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -III -</h4> - -<p> -Jacqueline, silent at first, began after awhile to chatter -merrily. Monsieur de Landas, who sat opposite to her, -having lately come from Paris, she begged earnestly for all -the latest gossip from the Court. Madame la Reyne de -Navarre? What was she like? Jacqueline had heard -such marvels of her grace and of her intellect. And the -Duc d'Anjou? Was he as handsome as women averred? -And was he—was he really such a rogue as irate husbands -and brothers would have every one believe? Then she -wanted to know about the fashions. Were hoops really -growing in size or had a revulsion of feeling set in against -them, and what was the latest mode for dressing the hair? -Was it true that the new green dye specially invented by -<i>Monsieur</i> Duc d'Anjou was so unhealthy to the wearer -that many mysterious deaths had already followed its -introduction? -</p> - -<p> -And all the while that she talked she affected to eat -heartily; but Gilles, who was watching her, saw that she -scarce touched a morsel, only played with her fork, the use -of which was evidently still unfamiliar to her. From time -to time she seemed to pause in her chatter in order to gaze -across the table in the direction where he sat silent and -absorbed, somewhat isolated, as if shunned by the rest of -the company; and whenever she did so it seemed to him -as if her eyes called to him through the slits of that mysterious -mask. After awhile, that call seemed so insistent that Gilles -had the greatest difficulty in the world to force himself to -sit still. He wanted to jump up and to go and sit near her, -force her to remove that forbidding mask and let him see -just what kind of a face was concealed behind it. -</p> - -<p> -By now, you see, his imagination had once more veered -right round and he had quite made up his mind that she -was fair to look upon. The length of the table which -separated him from her obsessed his mood, till he felt a -perfect fever of desire and impotence coursing through his -veins. And with this tingling of the nerves came a sense -of jealousy. He could not see the man with whom Jacqueline -was conversing so animatedly, had only given passing -attention to Monsieur de Landas when the latter had spoken -with him. But gossip had already reached his indifferent -ear that M. le Marquis de Landas had—at any rate at one -time—been an approved suitor for the hand of the rich -heiress, whereupon Messire Gilles became satisfied within -himself that that unpleasant feeling of dislike, which he was -feeling toward the other man, was solely on account of -<i>Monsieur</i> Duc d'Anjou, his master, over whose interests -vis-à-vis that same heiress, he—Gilles—was set here to -watch. -</p> - -<p> -Still Jacqueline chattered away, and quite ten minutes -had gone by since she had cast a glance in Gilles' direction. -So he felt curious as well as angered and leaned forward in -order to get a better view of Monsieur de Landas. He let -his eyes travel along the line of faces which he saw for the -most part only in profile: men and women, some old, some -young, some grave and sober, others frivolous, rowdy, not -a little vulgar, thought the fastidious Sire de Froidmont, -who had Valois blood in his veins and had seen a good deal -of the super-civilization of Paris. All of them appeared -intent on devouring huge slabs of meat, and licking their -fingers for the last drops of sauce. All, that is, except -one—the man with whom Jacqueline was conversing so gaily; -a young man, with masses of wavy black hair, a blue chin -and an oval face, which he kept resolutely turned toward -Madame Jacqueline. -</p> - -<p> -'The favoured lover,' mused Gilles. 'The possibly -dangerous enemy of <i>Monsieur</i> Duc d'Anjou, and spoiler of -Madame la Reyne's best laid schemes.' -</p> - -<p> -The young man ate very little, but he drank copiously. -When he was not looking at Jacqueline he appeared to be -staring moodily before him and bit furiously at his nails. -</p> - -<p> -'Attention, friend Gilles!' Messire said to himself. -'There's the rock against which you may well bruise your -head presently if you are not careful. Madame Jacqueline -may, for aught I know, have a fancy for that amorous, -olive-complexioned swain, who, as soon as I begin to take -the centre of the stage—as take it I must—will become, a -fierce and cunning enemy. I shall have to see to it that -Madame's fancy for him turns to indifference. After that, -beware, friend Gilles! Satan hath no finer henchman than -a rejected lover.' -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -IV -</h4> - -<p> -As the banquet drew to its close there was little gravity -or decorum left around the festive board. Even the oldest -and the gravest had yielded to the delights of untrammelled -gorging. The food was excellent, the wines beyond praise; -every one knew every one else; they were all friends, -companions together, allied by political or business -interests—in many cases by blood. The veneer of civilization as -shown by sober manners had not yet come to be thought -more necessary than good cheer and conviviality. -</p> - -<p> -The heat in the room had become oppressive. The smoke -from innumerable wax candles made a blue haze overhead, -a veil of mist which hid the high, vaulted ceiling and caused -the lights to flicker dimly. The men had cast aside their -mantles and loosened their sword-belts; the ladies used -their plumed fans vigorously. There was little left on the -table even of the elaborate dishes pertaining to the third -service: platters and silver épergnes were for the most -part empty; only now and again some one would lean -over and desultorily pick at a piece of lobster or a -truffle—an excuse, mayhap, for washing down the highly-spiced -food with another bumper of wine. -</p> - -<p> -Conversation, loud jests—some of them both ribald and -coarse—flew over and across the tables, loud calls were made -to friends who sat far away. The time had come for casting -off the last shred of ceremonial decorum which stood in the -way of unbridled hilarity. The ladies, at the instance of -their respective cavaliers, had cast aside their masks one -by one, and their comely faces appeared, crimson and -steaming even beneath the thick layers of cosmetics. -</p> - -<p> -Jacqueline was one of the few who remained quite calm -and cool. She plied her fan with lazy grace and kept on -her mask—despite the earnest, whispered entreaties of -M. de Landas and of a group of young gallants who had -gathered round her. -</p> - -<p> -Gilles had already made up his mind to go. He felt -stifled under his mask and the heat of the room, the heady -fumes of wine and food rendered him stupid and dizzy. -There appeared to be no chance of his being able to approach -Jacqueline again, short of provoking a quarrel with her -Spanish watch-dog, which Gilles would have thought -impolitic to do. On the whole, he thought that it would -be best to retire for the nonce from the scene. His day -had not been altogether unsuccessful: it was the fifth -since his arrival in Cambray, and surely Madame la Reyne -de Navarre would by now be on the track of her truant -brother. Gilles' probation could not last many days longer, -and in the meanwhile he had definitely made up his mind -that <i>Monsieur's</i> future bride was adorable, and that she -already evinced a more than passing interest in the masked -stranger who had serenaded her so boldly from beneath her -casement-window. -</p> - -<p> -Not a bad beginning, thought Messire, as he gave a wink -to Jehan to follow him and rose from his seat. The moment -which he chose appeared a favourable one: the etiquette -of the supper table was considerably relaxed; those of -Monseigneur's guests who wished to do so had taken to -moving about from place to place, according as they desired -to speak with friends; whilst some who wished to hold -private converse together, or who were on the point of -leaving, actually walked out of the room. -</p> - -<p> -This was Gilles' opportunity. Just then Monseigneur -d'Inchy rose also. Monsieur le Prince d'Eremberghe and -his lady were about to take their leave. They were -personages of vast importance and the host desired to do them -special honour. Accompanied by de Lalain, he escorted -his departing guests to the door, and thence, having the -Princess on his arm, he went out into the antechamber, -followed by de Lalain and the Prince. He had not noticed -Gilles, and the latter stood for a moment or two in the centre -of the room, alone with Jehan, and momentarily undecided. -He surveyed the group at the head of the table with a critical -frown: the young gallants—there were six of them—were -crowding round Madame, some leaning across the table, -others pressing close to her chair. She may have been -amused at the platitudes wherewith they were regaling -her; she may have enjoyed their conversation and M. de -Landas' ardent glances—she may have done all that, I -say, and thought no more of the man standing there alone -in the middle of the room than if he had been one of her -lacqueys. But, as chance would have it—or was it indeed -Gilles' compelling look which drew her own?—certain it is -that she turned her head in his direction and that he <i>felt</i> -that she was regarding him quizzically, searchingly, through -the eye-slits of her mask. -</p> - -<p> -Quickly he gave a few whispered instructions to his -faithful Jehan; then he calmly strode across the room. -</p> - -<p> -Monseigneur the governor was still absent: his seat -beside Madame Jacqueline was empty. Gilles walked up -the length of the table—no one heeded him—and before -any one—least of all M. de Landas—was aware of his -intention, sat down quite coolly on M. d'Inchy's vacant chair, -immediately next to Jacqueline. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -V -</h4> - -<p> -If you can imagine a cannon ball exploding in the very -centre of that festive board, you will have some dim idea -of the effect produced upon M. d'Inchy's guests by this -manoeuvre. Every head was at once turned in that -direction, for M. de Landas and his friends had uttered an -exclamation that was almost ludicrous in its bewildered wrath. -</p> - -<p> -The ladies round the supper tables could not do more -than utter shrill little screams of disapproval, and many of -the men were, alas! too deep in their cups to do aught save -mutter bibulous imprecations against the malapert. A few -rose and ran to give the weight of their moral and social -support to de Landas, who had already jumped to his feet -and appeared ready to make of this incident a quarrel—and -that quarrel, his own. Of a truth, it was de Landas -who had been most grievously insulted. The vacant chair -beside Madame Jacqueline could only be taken by an intimate -friend such as he. Already his hand was on his sword-hilt; -his eyes, somewhat dimmed by the effect of copious libations, -were rolling with unbridled fury; beneath his mask a hot -flush had risen to his forehead, whilst below the curly masses -of his dark hair his ears appeared white and shiny like wax. -Unfortunately, he, like several other gentlemen present here -this night, had drunk a vast quantity of Burgundy and -Rhenish wine, not to mention several bumpers of excellent -Flemish ale, and when choler came to mingle with the fumes -of so much heady liquor, M. de Landas on rising, turned -very giddy and had to steady himself for a moment or two -against the table. -</p> - -<p> -Just at that moment a veritable pandemonium reigned in -the stately banqueting hall. -</p> - -<p> -'The insolence!' said some of the ladies to the -accompaniment of piercing little shrieks. -</p> - -<p> -'A stranger!' -</p> - -<p> -'A prince from Nowhere at all!' -</p> - -<p> -'Bah! A Prince!' -</p> - -<p> -'A mere fortune hunter!' -</p> - -<p> -'Probably a Spanish spy!' -</p> - -<p> -'Only a Spaniard would have such insolence!' -</p> - -<p> -'Such impudence passes belief!' -</p> - -<p> -The men—those who could speak coherently—sent -encouraging calls to de Landas: -</p> - -<p> -'Seize him by the collar, M. le Marquis!' -</p> - -<p> -'Throw him out!' -</p> - -<p> -'Have him kicked out by the varlets!' -</p> - -<p> -Enough noise, in fact, to break the drum of a sensitive -ear. But Gilles appeared superbly unconscious of the storm -which was brewing round him. He had his back to M. de -Landas, leaned an elbow on the table and faced Madame -Jacqueline as coolly as if he had been invited by every one -here to pay her his respects. -</p> - -<p> -Jacqueline, demure and silent, was smiling beneath her -mask. To look at her, you would have sworn that she was -stone-deaf and heard nothing of the tumult around her. -</p> - -<p> -It soon raged furiously. M. de Landas had quickly -recovered himself. His towering rage helped to dissipate -the fumes of wine and ale which had somewhat addled his -brain, and backed by all his friends he made preparation -to throw the malapert to the tender mercies of M. d'Inchy's -varlets, and as a preface to the more forcible proceeding, -he turned in order to smite the impudent stranger in the -face—turned, and found himself confronted by a short, -square-shouldered man, with a round head and fists held -clenched on a level with a singularly broad chest. -</p> - -<p> -The man stood between Gilles and M. de Landas; he had -the table on his right and the monumental mantelpiece on -his left, and behind him was the tall carved oak back of -the chair on which Gilles was sitting—all equally strong -barriers to the young Marquis' bellicose intentions. -</p> - -<p> -'Out of the way, lout!' shouted de Landas furiously, -and would have seized Maître Jehan by the collar but for -the fact that it was a very difficult thing indeed to seize -Maître Jehan by any portion of his squat person unless he -chose to allow so unceremonious a proceeding, and just now -he was standing guard between a number of enraged gentlemen -and the back of his master's chair—a trying position, -forsooth, for any man of Maître Jehan's prowess, for -... well! he would not have dared to lay hands on such a great -gentleman as was M. le Marquis; but, against that, M. le -Marquis had no chance of laying hands on Maître Jehan -either. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -VI -</h4> - -<p> -And all the while, Gilles sat so near to Jacqueline that -his knees touched the hoops of her skirt. Instinctively she -drew her own chair back with that same little demure air -which was apparent in every one of her movements, even -though her face was concealed by the mask. -</p> - -<p> -'An' you move an inch further, fair one,' he said boldly, -'I vow that I shall be ready to commit a crime.' -</p> - -<p> -'You are committing one now, Messire,' retorted Jacqueline. -'A crime against decorum, by sitting in my guardian's -place.' -</p> - -<p> -'Then I'll no longer sit—I'll kneel at your feet,' he riposted, -and made a movement as if to push away his chair. -</p> - -<p> -'Heaven forbid!' she exclaimed lightly. 'M. de Landas -would kill you!' -</p> - -<p> -'I am not so easily killed,' he rejoined. 'And M. de -Landas is, for the moment, engaged with my man.' -</p> - -<p> -'Who is getting sorely pressed, Messire!' cried Jacqueline -with sudden, eager excitement. 'Will you not go to his -aid?' -</p> - -<p> -She had caught sight of Jehan, standing with his back to -his master's chair, fists levelled, shoulders squared, defying -not only M. de Landas but a crowd of other gentlemen, -who had rushed forward to support their friend. -</p> - -<p> -'Not before you have promised to unmask, fair one,' -Gilles said calmly. -</p> - -<p> -'I?' she exclaimed, now really staggered by his cool -impudence. 'You are dreaming, Messire!' -</p> - -<p> -'I think I am, Madame,' he replied; 'therefore I must have -your promise ere I wake.' -</p> - -<p> -'You are presumptuous!' -</p> - -<p> -'Just now you said that I was dreaming. A man who -dreams is a man asleep—and a man asleep is too helpless -to be presumptuous.' -</p> - -<p> -'That is sophistry, Messire,' she retorted. 'And while -you parley thus idly, your man is in serious danger through -the wrath of these gentlemen.' -</p> - -<p> -'My good Jehan's danger is not so pressing as mine. He -hath my orders to hold these gentlemen at arm's length until -I give the word, whilst Monseigneur d'Inchy may be back -any moment before I wake up from my dream.' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh!' she urged now with well-feigned alarm. 'But your -poor man cannot stand long before these gentlemen, and -you, Messire, will surely not allow him to receive all those -knocks which are intended for you!' -</p> - -<p> -'I have received many a score which were intended for -him,' retorted Gilles with a laugh. 'Jehan and I have -long ceased to reckon up accounts. Your promise, fair -one,' he pleaded; 'ere Monseigneur return to place a -spoke in my wheel!' -</p> - -<p> -She felt now as if she were trapped, no longer combated -his desire, but merely appeared anxious to gain time until -her guardian came to release her from the strange, -compelling power of this man, who was arrogating unto himself -rights which could only be claimed by a friend or lover. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, mon Dieu!' she exclaimed agitatedly, half rising -from her chair in her eagerness to catch sight of Jehan. -'He cannot long parry the attack——' -</p> - -<p> -'Your promise, fair one,' he insisted quietly, 'to let me -see your sweet face to-night! I swore it to myself just -now, when you threw me a glance across the room, that I -would look into your eyes untrammelled. Your promise!—or -I vow that I'll do something desperate!' -</p> - -<p> -'Heavens above!' she exclaimed, keeping her attention -deliberately fixed on Maître Jehan. 'If he should strike one -of these gentlemen—he—a mere servant!...' -</p> - -<p> -'If he does,' riposted Gilles lightly, 'I will take up his -quarrel, with this token tied to my sword-hilt.' And from the -inner pocket of his doublet he drew a tiny, perfumed rag, -held it in his hand and waved it with an ostentatious flourish -for her to see. -</p> - -<p> -She gave a quick, involuntary little cry of alarm: 'My -handkerchief!' -</p> - -<p> -'Undoubtedly, fair one!' he said coolly. 'It hath your -initials and crown embroidered in the corner! Think you -Messire de Landas' choler will cool at sight of it?' -</p> - -<p> -Her forehead, her tiny ears, her neck and chin, everything -that he could see of her dainty face, had become -suffused with a warm blush. -</p> - -<p> -'Messire!' she said firmly, 'I command you to give me -back that handkerchief, which you stole unawares.' -</p> - -<p> -'It was flung at me with a sheaf of lilies, which, alas! have -withered. 'Tis my right hand which shall wither ere -I part from the handkerchief.' -</p> - -<p> -'My handkerchief!' she reiterated impatiently. -</p> - -<p> -'Only with my life! But it shall lie for ever hidden -against my heart if you will promise...' -</p> - -<p> -'Messire, you are committing a base and unworthy act!' -</p> - -<p> -'I know it,' he said with a smile. 'But I must have that -promise.' -</p> - -<p> -'Promise of what?' she asked breathlessly, driven into -a corner by his obstinacy. -</p> - -<p> -'To let me look straight into your eyes to-night,' he said, -'unfettered by that hideous mask.' -</p> - -<p> -He leaned forward so that his face now was quite close -to hers, and he could feel her quick breath against his -cheek. -</p> - -<p> -'No, no!' she said with a little gasp. 'My -guardian—and—and M. de Landas——' -</p> - -<p> -'Very well!' he said dryly, and began quietly winding -the little rag around his sword-hilt. -</p> - -<p> -'Messire!' she said in a peremptory tone, through which -a note of appeal, if not of genuine alarm this time, could be -distinctly perceived. -</p> - -<p> -'Promise!' he reiterated relentlessly. -</p> - -<p> -Just then she caught sight of de Landas, who, flushed -with choler, was thrusting somewhat wildly at Maître Jehan. -She thought that his eyes were constantly wandering in her -direction and that he was vainly trying to get near her, -past his sturdy opponent, who was guarding the approach -to his master's chair with all the fierceness of a Cerberus. -Somehow, at sight of de Landas thus fighting with almost -savage violence, she lost her head for the moment. Of a -truth, the matter of the handkerchief might lead to a very -bitter quarrel between her lover and this stranger. A very -bitter quarrel—and worse! De Landas was wont to lose -all self-control when jealous rage had hold of him, was as -quick with his dagger as with his rapier! And here was -this tantalizing troubadour calmly preparing to flaunt upon -his sword-hilt the handkerchief which bore her name and -coronet. He looked up and caught the sparkle of her eyes. -</p> - -<p> -'Promise!' he insisted quite coolly. -</p> - -<p> -And she—very reluctantly—murmured: 'Very well; -I promise!' -</p> - -<p> -'To-night!' he insisted. -</p> - -<p> -'No!—no!' she protested. 'Not to-night!' -</p> - -<p> -'To-night!' he reiterated firmly, smiled at her too beneath -his mask as if in triumph—Oh, the insolence of him!—and -continued to toy with the compromising bit of white -rag. -</p> - -<p> -If only Monseigneur would return! There was nothing -for it but to acquiesce. De Landas even then looked the -very image of wild and unreasoning fury. Jacqueline -shuddered and murmured a quick: 'Very well! To-night! I -promise!' -</p> - -<p> -Gilles gave an equally quick sigh of satisfaction. -</p> - -<p> -'When?' he asked. -</p> - -<p> -But before she could reply, there came a loud curse -from Jehan. He had been seized round the legs by two -varlets, even while he was engaged in warding off the blows -which were aimed at his head by half a dozen gallants. It -was when he came down with a dull thud upon his knees and -felt that he could no longer stand between his master and -these evil-intentioned gentlemen that he gave forth a -prolonged and uproarious stutter: -</p> - -<p> -'The d-d-d-d-d——' -</p> - -<p> -Gilles jumped to his feet. In less than three completed -seconds he was round by the side of Jehan, had kicked the -two varlets out of the way and interposed his massive person -between his faithful henchman and the seething group of -bellicose gallants. -</p> - -<p> -'Silence, chatterbox!' he said coolly to Jehan. 'These -seigneurs are not here to listen to your perorations. -Anything that must be said can be referred to me.' -</p> - -<p> -He had one hand on the elegant hilt of his Spanish rapier; -the other rested on the shoulder of Maître Jehan, who had -struggled very quickly to his feet. His mocking glance, veiled -by the black satin mask, swept coolly over de Landas and his -friends. -</p> - -<p> -'Insolent!' exclaimed one of the men. -</p> - -<p> -'Unmask the spy!' cried out another. -</p> - -<p> -'Leave the rogue to me!' quoth de Landas, who was -getting beside himself with rage. -</p> - -<p> -Already half a dozen swords were drawn. Every one -who had been drunk before became sobered in the instant; -those who had remained sober felt suddenly drunk with -choler. Some of the ladies thought it best to scream or -to feign a swoon, others made a rush for the door. No one -dared to come nigh, for de Landas was a man who was not -good to trifle with when his ire was aroused. But those who -were not taking part in the quarrel were certainly not eyeing -the stranger with any degree of benevolence, and Jacqueline -felt more than she actually heard the adverse comments -made upon this Prince de Froidmont—so he was styled, it -appeared—who had come no one knew whence and who -seemed to arrogate unto himself privileges which only -pertained to favoured friends. -</p> - -<p> -Thus a wide circle was formed at one end of the room, -leaving at the other, in splendid isolation, the group which -was made up of half a dozen young gallants standing in -threatening attitudes in front of the masked stranger, who -now had his henchman on one side of him and on the other -the monumental mantelpiece, in which the fire had been -allowed to die down. -</p> - -<p> -'Out of the way, malapert!' cried de Landas savagely -to Gilles, as he advanced towards him with sword clutched -and eyes that glowed with a fierce flame of unbridled wrath. -His desire was to reach Jacqueline, who stood a little way -behind Gilles, near the table, watching in an attitude of -tense excitement the progress of this quarrel, and with an -eye on the door through which she hoped every moment -to see her guardian reappear. -</p> - -<p> -But, quick as lightning, Gilles had barred the way. He -appeared highly amused and perfectly at his ease, laughed -boldly in M. de Landas' heated face; but would not let him -pass. -</p> - -<p> -It was easy to perceive that he was enjoying this quarrel, -loved to see the glint of those swords which threatened him -even while they promised to vary the monotony of this -sentimental adventure. He had not drawn his own. In -France, fighting in the presence of ladies was thought highly -unseemly. These Flemings were different, very uncouth, not -a little brutal and abominably hot-headed. Well! the quarrel -once begun would of a surety not end here and now, even -though M. d'Inchy were to return and peremptorily order -it to stop. There was something in M. de Landas' sullen -and defiant attitude which delighted Gilles: and when half -a dozen irate gentlemen shouted hoarsely, 'Out of the way!' -he laughed and said: -</p> - -<p> -'Impossible, Messeigneurs! 'Tis for you to retire. Our -gracious hostess will grant me the favour of unmasking. -An' I am much mistaken, she will not do the same for -you.' -</p> - -<p> -'Madame Jacqueline,' retorted de Landas hotly, 'will not -unmask before the first jackanapes who dares to approach -her unbidden.' -</p> - -<p> -'Ah! but I am not unbidden,' riposted Gilles gaily. 'Have -I not told you that Madame will deign to unmask ere I bid -her good-night?' -</p> - -<p> -'Insolent coxcomb!' shouted the other excitedly. -</p> - -<p> -'A spy!' cried one of the others. -</p> - -<p> -'Tear off his mask, de Landas! Let us see the colour -of his skin!' -</p> - -<p> -'An impudent rogue!' added a third. -</p> - -<p> -'M. le Marquis de Landas,' here interposed Jacqueline -peremptorily, 'you forget that M. le Prince de Froidmont is -our guest.' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh!' retorted de Landas with a sneer, 'if he is under -the protection of the ladies...' -</p> - -<p> -'Under no protection save that of my sword, Messire!' -broke in Gilles carelessly. 'And that will be entirely at -your service as soon as I have taken leave of our fair hostess.' -</p> - -<p> -'Nay! that you shall not do!' riposted de Landas. -'Your impudent assertion of awhile ago has put you outside -the pale. You shall not take your leave! 'Tis we who'll -throw you out; unless you relieve us of your company -now—at once!' -</p> - -<p> -'Well said, de Landas!' came in an approving chorus -from the irate group of de Landas' friends. -</p> - -<p> -'We'll throw him out!' cried some of them. 'Leave him -to us.' -</p> - -<p> -'A spy!' came from others. -</p> - -<p> -'Now, Messire—whoever you may be,' concluded de -Landas with ironic emphasis, 'will you go willingly or shall -my friends and I——' -</p> - -<p> -'For shame, Messire!' broke in Jacqueline loudly and -firmly. 'You are six against one——' -</p> - -<p> -'So much the better!' riposted de Landas with a harsh -laugh. 'At him, friends!' -</p> - -<p> -'Madame,' said Gilles, turning to Jacqueline with perfect -calm, 'your promise will remain for ever unredeemed if -these gentlemen succeed in throwing me out of the room; -for this, I vow, they cannot do while I am alive.' -</p> - -<p> -'Jacqueline,' interposed de Landas impulsively, 'I forbid -you to unmask before this man.' -</p> - -<p> -He had guessed her purpose, for already her hand was -raised towards her mask; and so enraged was he that she -should thus yield to this stranger whom already he had come -to hate, that he forgot himself, lost all self-control, and said -just the one word which decided Jacqueline. At the word -'forbid,' she drew herself up to her full height and faced -her lover with calm and hauteur. -</p> - -<p> -'There is nothing,' she said coolly, 'that any one here -has the right to command or forbid.' Then she turned to -Gilles: 'I'll bid you good-night now, Messire, and can but -offer to you—a stranger—my humble apologies in mine and -my guardian's name for the uncouth behaviour of my -countrymen.' -</p> - -<p> -'Jacqueline!' exclaimed de Landas with a hoarse cry of -rage. -</p> - -<p> -But even before this final protest had reached her ear, -she had extended one hand to Gilles and with the other -slowly detached the mask from her face. He had stooped -very low in order to kiss her finger-tips; when he straightened -out his tall figure once more he was face to face with her. -</p> - -<p> -He never spoke a word or made a sign. He did not look -into her eyes at first, though these were as blue as the skies -in Southern France; he did not gaze at the delicate mouth -with the deep corners and the roguish smile, or at the -chiselled, slightly tip-tilted nose with the sensitive nostrils -that were quivering with excitement. No! all that Messire -Gilles gazed on at the moment was a tiny brown mole which -nestled tantalizingly on the velvety cheek, just below the -left eye. And for that moment he forgot where he was, -forgot the storm of enmity which was raging around him, -the unworthy rôle which he had set out to play for the -deception of a confiding girl. He lost count of time and of -space and found himself once more lying on cool, -sweet-smelling straw, with a broken wrist and an aching head, -and with a vision as of an angel in white bending over his -fevered brow and murmuring in tones of exquisite -compassion, 'Think you it will heal?' -</p> - -<p> -And as he gazed on that little mole, that veritable kissing-trap -which had tantalized him long ago, his lips murmured -vaguely: -</p> - -<p> -'My dream!' -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -VII -</h4> - -<p> -Of course the little interlude had all occurred within a -very few seconds: the kiss upon the soft, warm hand, the -look upon that roguish face, the swift and sudden rush of -memory—it had all happened whilst poor M. de Landas -was recovering from the shock of Jacqueline's cold rebuke. -Her stern taunt had come down on him like a hammer-blow -upon the head; he felt dazed for a moment; speechless, -too, with a white rage which was too great at first for words. -But that kind of speechless fierceness seldom lasts more -than a few seconds. Even as Gilles de Crohin was quietly -collecting his scattered senses and Jacqueline, vaguely -puzzled, was readjusting her mask in order to be able to -gaze on him unobserved, marvelling why he should have -murmured 'My dream!' and looked so strangely at her, -de Landas had recovered some measure of self-control. The -anger which he felt against the stranger was no longer -impetuous and ebullient; it had become cold and -calculating, doubly dangerous and more certain to abide. -</p> - -<p> -He put up his sword, motioned to his friends to do -likewise—which they did, murmuring protestations. They were -itching to get at the stranger who had triumphed so signally -over them all. But de Landas was waiting with apparent -calm whilst Gilles took leave of Jacqueline. This Gilles did -with all the ceremony which etiquette demanded. He still -felt dazed with the strange discovery which he had just made, -the knowledge that the dream which he had only cherished -as a vague memory was a living, breathing, exquisite reality. -Ye gods! how exquisite she was! -</p> - -<p> -But he had no excuse for lingering—had, on the other -hand, a wild desire to be alone, in order to think, to -remember and to dream. So, having bowed his last farewell, he -turned to go, and found de Landas barring his way. -</p> - -<p> -'You will pay for this outrage, Messire,' said the latter -in a quick whisper through his set teeth. -</p> - -<p> -'Whenever you please,' replied Gilles imperturbably. -</p> - -<p> -'To-night——' -</p> - -<p> -'Surely not while ladies are present,' broke in Gilles -quietly. -</p> - -<p> -''Tis in Madame's presence,' retorted de Landas roughly, -'whom you have insulted, that I and my friends——' -</p> - -<p> -'Messire!' protested Jacqueline firmly. -</p> - -<p> -'Ah! a valorous half-dozen then?' rejoined Gilles lightly. -'I see that you—and your friends, Messire—have no -intention of taking any risks.' -</p> - -<p> -'Our intention is to tear that mask off your impudent -face and make you lick the dust at Madame Jacqueline's -feet.' -</p> - -<p> -'And mine,' riposted Gilles gaily, 'is to collect a trophy -of half a dozen masks—yours, Messire, and those of your -friends—on the point of my sword and to place these with -my homage at Madame Jacqueline's feet.' -</p> - -<p> -'Insolent!' -</p> - -<p> -'I therefore am completely at your service, gentlemen,' -concluded Gilles, with an ironical bow directed at his -opponents. 'Whenever, wherever you please.' -</p> - -<p> -'Here and now!' broke in de Landas, whose self-control—never -of long duration—had already given way. 'At -him, friends! And, by Satan, we'll teach this malapert -a lesson!' -</p> - -<p> -It was in vain that Jacqueline tried to interpose; in vain -that the ladies about the room screamed and swooned, -that the men even began loudly to protest. Neither de -Landas nor his friends were in a state to hear either -commands or protests. All decorum, chivalry, breeding, was -thrown to the winds. Hatred had descended like an ugly -night-hawk upon these young gallants, and with her frowzy, -sable wings had enveloped their brain and hearts till they -were deaf to the most elementary dictates of honour. With -de Landas, a wild, insensate jealousy had fanned that hatred -to a glowing brazier of unreason and of madness. He -saw—or thought he saw—that Jacqueline displayed unwonted -interest in this stranger, that her eyes followed his -movements with anxiety not unmixed with admiration. And -de Landas became conscious of a red veil before his eyes -and of a furious desire to humiliate that man first and to -kill him after. -</p> - -<p> -'At him, friends!' he called again hoarsely. 'We'll -teach him a lesson!' -</p> - -<p> -It was most fortunately at this very moment, and when -the tumult was at its height, that Monseigneur d'Inchy -re-entered the room. Just for a second or two he did not -pay much heed to the noise. In these days, when political -and religious controversies oft raged with bitter acrimony, -it was not very unusual that a hot quarrel marred the close -of a convivial gathering. D'Inchy at first did not do more -than glance round the room, to see if his interference was -really necessary. Then, to his horror, he realized what was -happening, saw <i>Monsieur</i> Duc d'Anjou, own brother to -the King of France and future Sovereign Lord of the Netherlands, -standing in the midst of a group of young hotheads, -who were actually threatening Monseigneur the governor's -exalted guest! -</p> - -<p> -And de Landas, that impetuous quarrelsome young -coxcomb, was talking of giving <i>Monsieur</i> a lesson! It was -unbelievable! Appalling! D'Inchy was a middle-aged -man, but it was with a degree of vigour which many young -men might have envied that he pushed his way through -the jabbering and gesticulating throng of men and women, -right across the room to the top of the table, where he -arrived just in time to avert what would indeed have been -a terrible calamity. -</p> - -<p> -'By Heaven, M. de Landas,' he interposed stoutly, ''tis -I will teach you and these gentlemen a lesson which you -are not like to forget!' -</p> - -<p> -And, regardless of de Landas' and his friends' glowering -looks, he pushed his way to Gilles' side and stood facing -that angry little crowd who, suddenly abashed, drew back -a step or two, muttering wrathful expletives. Monseigneur, -of course, was their host and an old man; but why should -he interfere and spoil what promised to be really fine sport? -</p> - -<p> -'M. le Prince de Froidmont is my guest,' M. d'Inchy went -on calmly. 'Who quarrels with him, insults me and my -house.' -</p> - -<p> -A real sigh of relief came from Madame Jacqueline. -Already, at sight of her guardian, she had felt reassured, -and now he had voiced just what she had wished to say -all along. She felt grateful to him for this and for his -dignified attitude, and with a pretty, clinging gesture, sidled -up to him and took hold of his arm. -</p> - -<p> -What could the young gallants do? They were helpless -for the moment, even though still raging with choler. -De Landas tried to look as if nothing of importance had -happened, even though from beneath his mask he shot a -last glance of hatred and menace at his unperturbed enemy. -The others quickly followed suit and for the moment the -incident was at an end. Fortunately it was not likely to -have unpleasant consequences, for already Gilles had -interposed with his habitual good-humour. -</p> - -<p> -'Your pardon, Monseigneur,' he said. 'These—these -gentlemen and I had no intention of insulting one another. -We were only having a little argument, and as your -hospitality hath been over-lavish, we became somewhat -heated; that is all!' -</p> - -<p> -'Somewhat heated!' riposted d'Inchy gruffly. 'With -mine own ears I heard M. le Marquis Landas here...' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, that's just it!' broke in Gilles imperturbably. -'M. de Landas and I were indulging in a friendly argument, -which your presence, Monseigneur, at once rendered futile.' -</p> - -<p> -M. d'Inchy sighed with relief. Gilles' coolness was -contagious; even de Landas ceased to growl and the others -to mutter. Thank Heaven! the quarrel was fizzling out -like an unfanned flame, and in any case Monsieur was taking -the situation with perfect good-humour. D'Inchy, bent, -as always, on conciliation, smiled with impartial blandness -on every one, whilst Jacqueline, silent and demure now as -if nothing had happened, was once more looking straight -down her nose. D'Inchy took hold of her hand, which still -rested upon his arm, and patted it gently with an indulgent, -fatherly caress. -</p> - -<p> -'Then all is for the best, Messeigneurs,' he said, 'and -with your leave my ward will now take her leave of you. I -fear me that your friendly argument has somewhat fatigued -her. By the way,' he added lightly, 'you have not yet -told me what that argument was about.' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh!' rejoined Gilles with a quiet smile, 'we only argued -as to whose should be the privilege of placing a trophy at -the feet of our fair hostess.' -</p> - -<p> -'A trophy? What trophy?' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, something quite insignificant. A—a mask—or half -a dozen——' -</p> - -<p> -'Just like so many 'prentices a-quarrelling,' said d'Inchy -with gruff good-humour. 'A mask or half a dozen, forsooth! -You'd far better all be going to bed now. Madame -cares nothing for your masks or your trophies. She is too -tired for any such nonsense. Eh, Jacqueline?' -</p> - -<p> -'Not too tired, Monseigneur,' replied Jacqueline demurely, -'to forgo the pleasure of bidding you good-night ere you -go to rest.' -</p> - -<p> -'There, you see, gentlemen,' rejoined d'Inchy gaily, -'that age has certain privileges which youth seeks for in -vain. Whilst you go moodily, unsatisfied, to bed, the fairest -of the fair will be sitting with her old guardian in his -living-room, prattling away on the events of this night, quizzing -you all, I'll warrant; laughing at your quarrels and your -trophies. Is that not so, my dear? ... One mask or half -a dozen! ... Are they not like children, these gallants, -with their senseless quarrels? But there, while women -are beautiful, men will quarrel for their favours—what?' -</p> - -<p> -And he looked down with fatherly pride on the golden -head which was kept so resolutely bent. -</p> - -<p> -'C'est entendu, Monseigneur,' replied Jacqueline softly. -'I'll come to your living-room as usual and bid you -good-night after all our guests have departed.' -</p> - -<p> -Far be it from me even to hint that, as she said this, -Jacqueline threw more than a cursory glance on Gilles or -on M. de Landas, for nothing could have looked more demure, -more dignified and aloof than she did at this moment, when, -having spoken, she bowed with stiff grace to the group of -gentlemen before her. And even Maître Calviac would have -felt that he was a mere bungler in the matter of bowings -and scrapings if he could have seen these gallants responding -to Madame's salute; the right leg outstretched, the -left foot kept back, the hand almost touching the floor with -a wide sweep of the arm, then brought back to the lips as -for an imaginary kiss. -</p> - -<p> -The next moment Jacqueline had turned and presently -could be seen, still with that same stiff grace, receiving the -adieux of her guardian's guests. She held her small head -very erect and with one hand plied her fan with lazy -nonchalance, whilst the other was perpetually being extended -to those whose privilege it was to kiss it. -</p> - -<p> -As for the group of young gallants—well! they had the -immediate future to look forward to. True, that for the -nonce they were forbidden to continue the quarrel for fear -of incurring their host's displeasure; but it was only a -matter of putting off the happy hour when one could be -even with that insolent stranger. De Landas turned with -a significant gesture and a knowing wink to his friends. -After that, the small group dispersed and ostentatiously -mingled with the rest of the departing crowd. -</p> - -<p> -D'Inchy, before he left Gilles' side, managed to murmur -fulsome apologies. -</p> - -<p> -'I do assure Monseigneur,' he whispered earnestly in -Gilles' ear, 'that these young jackanapes will not be tempted -to repeat their impudence, and that I...' -</p> - -<p> -'And that you, Messire,' broke in Gilles a little impatiently, -'are entirely innocent of any intention of offending me. -That is, of course, understood. Believe me,' he added -gaily, 'that the little incident was more than welcome as -far as I am concerned. Your lavish hospitality had made -us all drowsy. M. de Landas' aggressive temper brought -life and animation into the entertainment. I, for one, am -grateful to him for the episode.' -</p> - -<p> -Five minutes later he too had taken leave of his host. -Jacqueline he did not see again. She was entirely -surrounded by friends. Nevertheless, he left the banqueting -hall in a state of exhilaration, and as he passed through the -doors between the rows of Monseigneur's obsequious serving-men, -they all remarked that Monsieur le Prince de Froidmont -was humming a lively tune, the words of which -appeared to be: -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'Les plis de sa robe pourprée<br /> - Et son teint au vostre pareil!'<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap11"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XI -<br /><br /> -AND HOW IT ENDED -</h3> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -I -</h4> - -<p> -When Gilles de Crohin found himself alone with Maître -Jehan in the corridor which led straight to the -main entrance hall, he paused for a moment, irresolute, -wondering what he had best do. That there had been -murder in the eyes of that gallant Marquis de Landas no one -could doubt for a moment, and there lay a long stretch of -dark streets and narrow lanes between the Archiepiscopal -Palace and the safe shelter of 'Les Trois Rois.' -</p> - -<p> -But you cannot imagine Messire Gilles de Crohin quaking -even for a moment at the thought. -</p> - -<p> -'Careful we must be,' he said in a whisper to his faithful -<i>alter ego</i>; 'for my choleric friend will not, I imagine, be -above lying in wait for us within the shelter of a convenient -doorway, and I should ill serve the cause of the Queen of -Navarre by getting spiked between the shoulders at such -an early stage of the proceedings. But between that and -showing that gallant Spaniard a clean pair of heels and -foregoing the pleasure of threading his mask on my blade, there -is a world of difference; eh, my good Jehan?' -</p> - -<p> -'Above all things,' he added to himself, under his breath, -so that even Jehan could not hear, 'I must find out whether -a certain provoking glance, which flashed from out a pair of -the most adorable blue eyes I have ever seen, were intended -for me or not.' -</p> - -<p> -And his thoughts flew riotously back to Jacqueline—Jacqueline, -his dream, his tantalizing, exquisite dream—Jacqueline -of the blue eyes and the captivating mole—Jacqueline -of the roguish smile and the demure glance. -</p> - -<p> -'I wonder, now!' he murmured softly. Had she -perchance meant to give him a hint? Had she thrown him a -warning glance? Gilles just then could have sworn that -she had done both when she spoke of Monseigneur's living-room, -where she would sit prattling after the last of the -guests had departed. -</p> - -<p> -'Did she mean me to take refuge there against de Landas' -murderous intentions?' he asked himself. But the -supposition did not appear likely. Gilles was no coxcomb and -had not had many dealings with women during the course -of his chequered career; but he had an innate respect for -them, and would not credit Jacqueline—proud, demure, -stately Jacqueline—with the intention of offering a gratuitous -rendezvous to an unknown gallant. Rather was her glance -intended for de Landas—the assignation was for him: -'perhaps,' thought Messire Gilles with a vague stirring of -hope in his heart, 'perhaps with a view to keeping that -fiery lover of hers out of harm's way, till I myself was safely -abed.' -</p> - -<p> -Be that as it may, the most elementary dictates of -prudence demanded that he should go back to his hostelry -before his enemies had time to concoct any definite plans -for his undoing. So, calling to Jehan to follow him, he -found his way quickly out of the Palace. -</p> - -<p> -It was raining heavily just then; the streets were dark -and, after a while, quite deserted. Gilles and Jehan, -keeping a sharp look-out around them, walked rapidly and kept -to the middle of the streets. Fortunately for them both, -they had had plenty of leisure in the last four days to wander -through the intricate by-ways of the Flemish city. They -knew the lay of the land pretty well by now, and at this -moment when the thought of a possible <i>guet-apens</i> was -foremost in their minds, they were able to outwit any -potential assassin who might be lurking on the direct route -by going to the hostelry along devious ways usually -unfrequented by strangers. -</p> - -<p> -Thus it took them nearly half an hour to reach 'Les Trois -Rois,' and Jehan, for one, was heartily congratulating -himself that those murderous gentlemen had been comfortably -thrown off the scent and were mayhap cooling their tempers -somewhere in the cold and the wet, when, just as they -entered the porch of the hostelry, a shadowy figure detached -itself from out the gloom. -</p> - -<p> -Gilles was already prepared with a quick, 'Qui va là?' -but the figure proved inoffensive-looking enough: a woman, -wrapped in a mantle and hood from head to foot. She had -a small roll of paper in her hand, and this she held out -timidly to Gilles. -</p> - -<p> -'Monseigneur le Prince de Froidmont?' she inquired -under her breath. -</p> - -<p> -'Myself,' replied Gilles curtly. 'What is it?' -</p> - -<p> -He took the paper and unrolled it. By the light of a -small lanthorn which hung just inside the porch he saw that -it was a letter—just a few lines—written in a small, pointed -hand, and signed with the letter 'J.' -</p> - -<p> -'Jacqueline!' he murmured, bewildered—so dazed -that it took him some time before he was able to read. -At last he deciphered the brief message. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="quote"> -'I do entreat you, Mesire,' it ran, 'to return to the palace -within the hour. Nay! I do not entreat, I command! Go to -the postern Gate: you will find it unlatched. Then cross the -Courtyard till you come to a door on the left of the main -Perron—this will be unlocked. You will find yourself in one of the -chief Corridors which give on the grand Staircase. Remain -there concealed, and await further Orders.' -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -A strange enough missive, of a truth, and one, no doubt, -which would have made an older and more prudent man -pause ere he embarked on so dubious an adventure. But -Gilles de Crohin was neither old nor prudent, and he was -already up to his neck in a sea of adventure which had -begun to submerge his reason. Even before he had folded -up the paper again and slipped it into the inner pocket of -his doublet, he had made up his mind that no power on earth, -no wisdom or warning, would deter him from keeping the -tryst. Did I think to remind you that he was no coxcomb? -Well! he certainly was absolutely free from personal -vanity, and it was not his self-conceit which was stimulated -by the mysterious message; rather was it his passion for -adventure, his love for the unforeseen, the unexpected, the -exhilarating. The paper which he hid so tenderly inside his -doublet had a delicious crisp sound about it, which seemed -to promise something stimulating and exciting to come. -</p> - -<p> -'Run up, Jehan,' he called to his man. 'I follow you. -Let me get out of these damnable slashed and puffed rags—these -velvet shoes and futile furbelows. Up, man! I follow -in a trice! We have not done with adventure yet to-night.' -</p> - -<p> -Then he turned, with a piece of silver in his hand ready -to reward the bearer of such joyful tidings. But the -messenger had disappeared into the night as quietly, as -mysteriously as she had come. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -II -</h4> - -<p> -Less than half an hour later, Gilles de Crohin once more -found himself within the precincts of the Archiepiscopal -Palace. He had been so quick in changing his clothes and -so quick in covering the distance which separated him from -the trysting place, that he had no occasion to use the -postern gate or the small door which had been indicated to -him. The great entrance portals were still wide open when -he arrived; some of the corridors still thronged with -people—guests of Monseigneur and their servants on the point of -departure—whilst others appeared entirely deserted. At -one point, Gilles caught sight of M. de Landas taking -elaborate leave of a group of ladies. He had his usual circle -of friends around him, who—a moment or two later—followed -him out of the Palace. -</p> - -<p> -Gilles, with Jehan close behind him, kept well within -the shadows, away from the throng. He had exchanged -his elaborate and rich costume for a suit that was both -plain and sombre; he had washed the perfume out of his -hair and the cosmetics from off his hands. He felt unfettered -in his movements now and in rare good humour. The only -thing which he had borrowed from his former accoutrement -was the magnificent Toledo rapier, which, after a moment's -hesitation, he had buckled into his own sword-belt. It had -been a parting gift from Madame la Reyne de Navarre and -was a miracle of the steel-worker's art; supple as velvet, -it would bend point to hilt like a gleaming arc and when it -caught a ray of light upon its perfect edge, it flashed a -thousand coloured rays like a streak of vivid lightning in -a storm-laden sky. -</p> - -<p> -Jehan, on the other hand, was not altogether at his ease. -Having less cause to feel exhilarated, he had a greater -mistrust of the mysterious missive, had vainly tried to argue -prudence where his master would only hearken to folly. -But he had never succeeded in getting beyond a laboured: -'I th-th-th-think——' Upon which, he was peremptorily -ordered to hold his tongue, even while Messire went merrily -singing to face this questionable adventure. -</p> - -<p> -At one point Gilles stopped in order to speak to a serving-man, -asked him to tell him where was Monseigneur's private -apartments, and when the man appeared to hesitate—for -indeed he did not like to give this information to a -stranger—Messire had seemingly lost his temper, and the man, -trembling in his shoes, had stammered out the necessary -directions. Monseigneur's private apartments and those -of the household were in the right wing of the Palace. This -was reached by mounting the grand staircase, then continuing -along the main corridor which connected the different -portions of the vast building, until the wing containing the -living-rooms was reached. No one, the man went on to -explain, slept in this portion of the Palace, which held only -the reception rooms and one of the chapels; but there -were always night-watchmen about the place to see that -no malefactors were about. -</p> - -<p> -Whilst the man spoke, Jehan felt as if his eyes were -searching him through and through. The worthy soul was -liking this adventure less and less every moment. -</p> - -<p> -Indeed, very soon after this all the corridors became -deserted. Singly, in pairs, or in groups, all Monseigneur's -guests and their servants had taken their departure. For -awhile the varlets and wenches belonging to the household -were busy clearing up the disorder and the débris attendant -on so large a gathering and on so copious a supper, and one -could hear them jabbering and laughing in the distant -dining hall or in the offices down below. Then that noise, -too, became stilled, and one felt that this portion of the -vast Palace was indeed completely uninhabited. -</p> - -<p> -Up at the Town Hall, the belfry of Martin et Martine -had just chimed the midnight hour. Messire Gilles and his -faithful Jehan found themselves in the vast hall at the foot -of the grand staircase, and the main entrance with its -monumental gates was then immediately behind them. A -strange stillness reigned all around: the great Palace seemed -here like a city of the dead. -</p> - -<p> -Jehan vainly tried to protest once more. For what -was Messire waiting, he wondered. Surely it was unwise -and worse to linger here now, when every one had gone -and all servants were abed. Presently, of course, the -night-watchmen would be making their rounds. Jehan -had a swift and exceedingly unpleasant foreboding that he -and his master would be ignominiously turned out! and -then God alone knew in what rows and quarrels they would -be involved, or how hopelessly they would jeopardize their -own position; not to speak of the Queen of Navarre's -cherished scheme. Poor Jehan would have given five -years of his life and half his savings for five minutes' glib -speech with his master. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -III -</h4> - -<p> -Even at this very moment, Jehan's vague terrors took on -a definite form. Footsteps and voices raised in merry -converse were heard, resounding from the distance, and the -next instant two serving-men carrying torches came leisurely -down the corridor in the direction of the hall. Immediately -behind them walked Monseigneur the Governor, who had -Madame Jacqueline on his arm. Jehan felt as if his heart -had stopped its beating; his knees shook under him, whilst -tiny drops of perspiration rose at the roots of his hair. -</p> - -<p> -Ye gods! if they were discovered now! They would -be under grave suspicion of evil intent ... burglary -... assassination.... There had been talk at the banquet -of 'spy' and 'Spaniard.' Jehan's scanty hair stood up -on end with horror. -</p> - -<p> -Fortunately, Messire was equally aware of danger, gave -a quick glance round, and perceived a door close beside -him on the right. This part of the hall was, equally luckily, -in shadow. There was also just sufficient time to reach -the door, to open it, and to step incontinently behind it, -closing it again noiselessly. Phew! it had been a narrow -escape! -</p> - -<p> -The footsteps and the voices came rapidly nearer; a -minute or two later they passed within a foot of the door -behind which Gilles and Jehan were crouching, hardly daring -to breathe. The glint of the torches could be distinctly -seen through a narrow chink between two panels, as well -as the shimmer of Madame's white satin gown. There -were but a few inches of wood and a foot of floor-space -between Messire and shameful discovery, and Maître Jehan -fell to wondering what particular form of torture would be -applicable to a man who was found lurking at dead of -night in the dark, and with obviously evil designs on the -life or property of the governor of a Flemish province. -</p> - -<p> -Thank Heaven and all the protecting angels, however, -the footsteps passed by, and presently were heard ascending -the main staircase, and whilst Maître Jehan was feeling -as if his whole body would melt in a sea of cold perspiration, -Madame Jacqueline's rippling laughter came only as an -echo from a considerable and comparatively safe distance. -</p> - -<p> -After awhile Gilles ventured to open the door very -cautiously. A faint murmur of people stirring came from -very far away; the shuffling footsteps of the torch-bearers -died away in the distant corridors. -</p> - -<p> -And once more all was still. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -IV -</h4> - -<p> -Gilles gave vent to his feelings by a long-drawn-out -'Phew!' of obvious relief; but the next moment he said, -quite coolly: -</p> - -<p> -'Pardi, my good Jehan! but we did not want to be -caught hiding in this place like a couple of malefactors, -did we?' and made straightway to re-open the door. -Jehan seized him by the arm and clung to him with all -his might. -</p> - -<p> -'Why shouldn't we st-st-st-stay here?' he urged almost -glibly. -</p> - -<p> -Gilles shrugged his shoulders. 'Why not, indeed?' he -retorted. 'Something has got to happen presently,' he -added carelessly. 'Somebody has got to come. If it is -not Madame Jacqueline—and, honestly, my good Jehan, -I have small hopes of that—If it is not Madame, then——' -</p> - -<p> -He paused and frowned. For the first time a sharp -suspicion had crossed his mind. Had he proved himself to -be a vanity-ridden coxcomb after all? Should not the -most elementary prudence have dictated....? Bah! whatever -prudence had dictated, Gilles would not have -listened. He was out for adventure! Whether gallant -or dangerous he did not care! Once more he shrugged his -broad shoulders and unconsciously his slender hand gripped -the hilt of his splendid Spanish sword. -</p> - -<p> -He threw a quick glance around him. Through the open -door, the huge metal lamps which illumined the hall beyond -threw a wide shaft of golden light into the room where he -and Jehan had found such welcome refuge. It appeared -to be something of a boudoir or library, for the shaft of -light revealed rows of books, which lined the walls all round. -There was a window at the far end of the room, and that -was closely curtained, and there was no other door save the -one through which the two men had entered. The fire in -the large open hearth had been allowed to die down. A -massive desk stood not far from the window, and there -were a few chairs about and a small, iron-bound coffer. -Papers littered the desk and a finely wrought candelabra -hung from the ceiling. -</p> - -<p> -'The room,' said Gilles lightly, 'looks as if it had been -closed for the night. There is no reason why we should -not await here the future course of events.' He drew one -of the chairs into a comfortable position and sat down, -then added: 'I do not know, of course, how long we may -have to cool our heels in this place, until the writer of the -mysterious epistle chooses to explain his or her commands. -I am beginning to think, as you do, my friend, that the -missive should have been signed with an "L" rather than -with a "J". What say you?' -</p> - -<p> -'Aye! Aye!' muttered Jehan. -</p> - -<p> -'Well, 'tis no matter! I'd as soon meet mine ebullient -friend of the languorous eyes to-night as to-morrow, and -inside this deserted Palace as out there in the rain. And -a little sword-play would be very stimulating after the -sentimental dalliance of the last few days.' -</p> - -<p> -'H'm!' murmured Jehan equivocally. -</p> - -<p> -'In the meanwhile, there is no reason why we should -not have a rest. I confess to feeling rather sleepy. Just -take a last look at the corridor,' concluded Gilles, as he -stretched his long limbs out before him. 'And if you are -satisfied that all is well, come and join me in an excursion -to the land of Nod.' -</p> - -<p> -Jehan went to the door as he was told and peered -cautiously to right and left of him. Seeing nothing suspicious, -he went as far as the great hall to listen if all was -clear and still. It was whilst he was gone that something -arrested Gilles' attention. Furtive footsteps this time—a -number of them—moving stealthily along the corridor. -With a quick gesture, he adjusted the mask over his -face—instinct led him to do that first and foremost; then he -jumped to his feet and went to the door, but had no time -to step across the threshold, for the next instant a compact -group of moving figures emerged straight in front of him -out of the gloom, intercepting him and barring the way. -</p> - -<p> -'À moi, Jehan!' he called aloud. -</p> - -<p> -But it was too late. From the hall beyond there came -the sound of a vigorous scuffle. Jehan, caught unawares, -was putting up a good fight seemingly against heavy odds; -but he could no longer reach his master—whilst some -half-dozen gentlemen, all wearing masks, were pushing their -way into the room. -</p> - -<p> -'We've run our fox to earth at last, Messeigneurs,' came -with a mocking laugh from out this dense and aggressive-looking -group. 'And without cooling our heels in the -wet—what? I told you that this would be the better plan. -His own egregious vanity hath led him straight into our -trap and 'tis mighty fine sport that we'll have with this -abominable spy, without fear of interruption.' -</p> - -<p> -It was the voice of M. de Landas, unmistakable owing to -the slight guttural pronunciation of the French language -peculiar to his Spanish blood. Before Gilles could forestall -him, he and his friends were all around him: six of them, -fine young gallants—those who had supported de Landas -in the quarrel after the banquet. -</p> - -<p> -Gilles surveyed them all with a rapid glance, measured -his own position, which of a truth was not an advantageous -one. The light from the lamps in the hall fell, through -the open doorway, full upon him, whilst his aggressors -appeared only like a dense mass in the heart of the shadow. -They were evidently intent on forcing him back into the -room; their movements appeared like part of a concerted -plan of action, to get him into a corner where they could -more comfortably hold him at their mercy. -</p> - -<p> -Gilles realized his position, the danger in which he stood -and his best chance of defence, with the unerring rapidity -of a born soldier. -</p> - -<p> -'It must have taken a huge effort of intelligence, Messire,' -he said ironically, 'to concoct this pretty plan. What was -there in an open challenge to frighten so many stalwart -gallants?' -</p> - -<p> -He gave ground, retreated into the room while he spoke. -De Landas and his friends pressed in closely after him. -</p> - -<p> -'I have yet to learn,' retorted the young Spaniard with -a sneer, 'that you are worthy of crossing swords with one -of us. You may draw, an' you have a mind; but you cannot -escape the lesson which I and my friends have vowed to -administer to you, and which, forsooth, you have so richly -deserved.' -</p> - -<p> -''Tis no use,' he added with an intaking of the breath -like an angry snake, ''Tis no use calling for help. The -night-watchmen are in my pay: my own men have settled -with your servant, and no sound short of an earthquake -could reach the distant wing of the Palace where Monseigneur -and his household are abed.' -</p> - -<p> -He drew his sword, and his friends immediately did likewise. -Still they advanced, the solid phalanx of them, and -so cunningly that Gilles was kept in the shaft of light whilst -they remained under cover of the shadow. -</p> - -<p> -'A murder!' said Gilles quietly. -</p> - -<p> -'A lesson, first and foremost,' was de Landas' curt reply. -'After that, we shall see.' -</p> - -<p> -'What shall we see, Messire?' riposted Gilles with a -mocking laugh. 'A Spanish cavalier stooping to -assassination——?' -</p> - -<p> -'Who spoke of assassination?' queried one of the gallants. -</p> - -<p> -'Why else are you here?' retorted Gilles, 'the six of -you, whilst half a dozen or more of your varlets are -overpowering my man outside, after ye have bribed or threatened -the watchmen into silence? Methinks it looks uncommonly -like projected murder.' -</p> - -<p> -'Whatever it is,' broke in de Landas savagely, 'it will -be a lesson which you are not like to forget.' -</p> - -<p> -'The lesson of how to lay an ignoble trap for an -unsuspecting foe? A lesson, indeed, in which the teacher is -well-versed in infamy. The assignation; the forged -signature! The watchmen bribed, a dozen of you to attack two -men, and, as you say, the wings of the Palace where our -host and his servants lie abed, well out of earshot. My -compliments, M. de Landas! I have met much knavery -in my time, but none, I think, quite so cleverly devised. -France, it seems, hath still a great deal to learn from Spain, -and——' -</p> - -<p> -He had not yet drawn in response to the other's challenge, -but stepped back and back until he was almost up against -the desk at the far end of the room. Then, suddenly, with -a movement so swift that his antagonists were taken -completely unawares, he skipped behind the desk and with a -push of his strong arms threw it down straight at his assailants, -forcing them in their turn to give ground or the massive -piece of furniture would have fallen on the top of them. -As it was, it came to the ground with a crash, the noise -as it fell being to a certain extent subdued by the thickness -of the matting which covered the floor. -</p> - -<p> -When de Landas and his friends recovered from the -suddenness of this unexpected shock, positions for them were -unpleasantly reversed. They were now in full light, a good -target for an experienced swordsman, whilst Messire le -Prince de Froidmont lurked somewhere in the shadow. -Fortunately he was comfortably outnumbered, and his -henchman quite helpless by now; to disarm him and give -him the long promised chastisement was only a question of -time. -</p> - -<p> -'And I have sworn,' cried de Landas spitefully, 'to -deposit at Madame Jacqueline's feet the mask which still -hides his impudent face.' -</p> - -<p> -Gilles, however, was determined to sell his life or his -discomfiture dearly. He had not been slow in consolidating -his new position. Losing not one second of precious time, -he drew the overthrown desk close to him, picked up a -couple of chairs that were close by, then reached out for -two or three more, piled these up over and around the desk, -and by the time de Landas and his crowd had recovered -their bearings and returned to the attack, he was -magnificently ensconced behind a barricade of heaped-up furniture, -and, having drawn his sword, was ready for defence. -</p> - -<p> -'Now, Messeigneurs,' he said with those same mocking -tones which had already exasperated de Landas beyond -endurance, 'see to it that you escape well-merited chastisement; -for, on my oath, I swear that 'tis I who will deposit -half a dozen masks at Madame Jacqueline's feet ere I give -you a chance of carrying out that nice little murder plot -which was destined to cover six stalwart seigneurs with glory.' -</p> - -<p> -De Landas gave a harsh laugh. -</p> - -<p> -'Your ruse will not protect you,' he said, 'though I -confess 'twas well manoeuvred. À moi, friends! 'Twill -not be the first time that you have aided me in extirpating -noisome vermin from its hidden burrow. You, La Broye, -and du Prêt, hold the right; Herlaer and Maarege the left; -de Borel, you and I wherever we are needed, and en avant. -At him, friends! No barricade on earth nor protecting -darkness shall save him from the punishment which he hath -so richly deserved. At him, and unmask the rogue, so -that I can at last smite the impudent spy in the face!' -</p> - -<p> -De Borel, young, impetuous, a fiery nincompoop, easily -led by the nose by his more brilliant friend, was not slow -in following the lead given him. He and Herlaer made a -swift rush for the improvised barricade whilst de Landas -attacked in the centre and the others, with equal vigour, -both on right and left. They thrust their swords somewhat -wildly through the interstices provided by the legs of the -chairs which towered above the overturned desk, lunged -blindly into the darkness, for they could not see their -opponent. For a few minutes all was confusion—the din of -clashing steel, the hoarse cries of the assailants, and Gilles' -ironical taunts as he parried all these aimless thrusts with -the coolness of a consummate swordsman—all merged into -a chaotic uproar. The next moment, however, Herlaer -went down, and then de Borel, each with a deep gash in -the leg, which had ripped up the flesh from the ankle to -midway up the calf. -</p> - -<p> -The front of the desk happened to be kidney-shaped, -and it was through the aperture formed by that front as -it lay on its beam end that Gilles' sword had suddenly darted -out once and then again, like some vicious snake, with -maddening rapidity and stealth, inflicting the sharp flesh -wounds which had so disconcerted his assailants. They, -entirely taken unawares, irritated by this attack from a -wholly unforeseen quarter, not only fell back with some -precipitancy, but also with a marked cooling off of their -primary ardour. They had come straight from a festive -gathering, were wearing silk hose and low shoes of velvet, -and at this moment were wishing that their ankles had -been protected by substantial leather boots. Somewhat -sulkily they set to to staunch their wounds with their -lace-edged handkerchiefs. De Landas watched them with -a scowl, giving the while a short respite to his opponent—the -latter, of a truth, well ensconced behind his barricades, -was more difficult to get at than had at first been supposed. -</p> - -<p> -There ensued a hasty council of war. Herlaer, limping, -was despatched for reinforcements. The varlets who had -effectually dealt with Jehan might as well come and lend -a hand to dress their masters' wounds. Jehan, indeed, -lay prone upon the flagstones of the hall, having apparently -succumbed to a blow on the head, of which one of those -same varlets was even now boasting with inordinate -vainglory to his companions, when they were all incontinently -called away to attend upon the young seigneurs. -</p> - -<p> -De Landas in the meanwhile had returned to the assault. -Leaving Herlaer and de Borel in the hands of their -henchmen, he called the others lustily to him. -</p> - -<p> -'À moi, du Prêt, Maarege, La Broye!' he cried. 'Beware -of the fox's underground burrow, and en avant!' -</p> - -<p> -He had espied the small coffer, seized it by one of its -handles and dragged it across the floor. Aided by Maarege, -they succeeded in placing it in position so as to block the -aperture below the barricade. Now there was no longer -any danger from that quarter; the enemy was getting foiled -at every turn. And with renewed valour they once more -rushed to the assault. -</p> - -<p> -Gilles now was on his feet, ensconced in the angle of the -wall, so as to allow his sword arm full play; and indeed, -in his skilful hands the magnificent Toledo blade seemed -like a living, breathing thing—a tongue of steel which darted -in and out of the improvised barricade, forward, to right, -to left, parry, en garde, thrust, lunge—out of the darkness, -now and then only catching a glint of light upon its smooth -surface, when it would flash and gleam like a streak of -vivid lightning, to subside again, retire, disappear into -the gloom, only to dart out again more menacing, more -invincible than before. -</p> - -<p> -And every time that this tongue of living flame shot out -of the darkness it left its searing trail behind. Maarege -was bleeding from the shoulder, du Prêt from the thigh; -La Broye had a gash across the forehead, and de Landas' -forearm was torn from the wrist to the elbow. On the other -hand, de Landas' sword was also stained with blood. He -gave a cry of triumph. -</p> - -<p> -'À moi, de Borel! Herlaer!' he called to the other two. -'At the barricades, while we keep the rogue busy. He -cannot hold out much longer!' -</p> - -<p> -And, indeed, the combat was far too unequal to last. -One man against six, and his only ally was the darkness. -That too was failing him, for his assailants' eyes were -becoming accustomed to the gloom. They were able to descry -him more easily than before, and there was not a mean -swordsman amongst them, either. Even now, under cover -of a vigorous onslaught made by de Landas and his three -seconds, de Borel and Herlaer—their wounds temporarily -dressed—rushed for the barricade and dragged first one -chair and then the other away, and finally succeeded in -throwing the two others right into Gilles' legs, thus -hampering the freedom of his movements. True, that during this -rapidly executed manoeuvre, de Borel received a gash across -the cheek and Herlaer a thrust in the arm; but the solitary -fighter's position had been rendered decidedly more -precarious. -</p> - -<p> -'Throw up your hands, you fool!' exclaimed de Landas -with grudging admiration at his opponent's swordsmanship. -'Unmask, and go your way, and we will call quits over -this affair!' -</p> - -<p> -Gilles' only reply to the taunt was an ironical laugh. -The chairs encumbered his legs, but his sword arm was -free, and he had once been counted the finest swordsman in -France. Attack and parry again, thrust and en garde—six -blades menaced him, and he, ensconced in the dark -angle, kept the six of them at bay! Now du Prêt's sword, -with a vigorous blow, was knocked clean out of his hand; -anon Maarege's blade was broken in two close to the hilt. -</p> - -<p> -Confusion now reigned supreme. Fight and excitement -had whipped up the blood of all these young gallants till -a perfect fury of hatred for the invincible opponent drew -a blood-red, veil-like mist before their eyes. The frantic -desire to kill was upon them; their wounds no longer -ached, their arms felt no weariness; the breath came with -a hissing sound through their quivering nostrils. Now -Maarege and La Broye succeeded in further demolishing -the barricade, dragging away the table, overthrowing the -chairs, making the way clear to right and left of these for -a concerted attack upon the foe. Gilles, quick as a bird -that scents an attack, skipped over the obstacle, darted to -the right, where the curtained window was, and shadows -still hung dark, almost impenetrable. -</p> - -<p> -Already he was en garde again, close to the window this -time—seemed still fresh and full of vigour though bleeding -from more than one wound. He loved this fight, as a -hungry man loves the first morsel of food which a kindly hand -places before him; loved it for its excitement—one of the -keenest he had ever sustained. De Landas' fury stimulated -him, maddened jealousy was so obviously its mainspring; -and Gilles felt as if he were fighting for the possession of -Jacqueline. His fine Toledo blade filled him with joy—at -this very moment it pierced de Borel's thigh as easily -as it would have done a pat of butter. -</p> - -<p> -'There's for one of you!' exclaimed Gilles in triumphant -exhilaration. -</p> - -<p> -De Borel was now out of action, and La Broye was -weakening perceptibly; but du Fret had recovered his -sword and Maarege was brandishing the broken stump of -his rapier, whilst de Landas, drunk with jealousy and with -rage, returned to the assault again and again, heedless of -his wounds. The room was a mass of wreckage. Overturned -furniture, broken débris, scraps of silken doublets -and velvet mantles, shoulder knots, tassels and bits of -priceless lace, littered the floor; the matting in places showed -dark crimson stains and had become slippery under the -ceaseless tramp of feet. With his barricade all tumbled -about him, Gilles was more open to attack, for there were -still four of them at least against him, and they pressed -him closely enough just now. -</p> - -<p> -'At him, friends!' de Landas contrived to shout, in a -voice rendered husky with exhaustion. 'At him! The -rogue is weakening rapidly! One more effort, and we have -him!' -</p> - -<p> -'Nay, by God! Ye have not!' exclaimed Gilles lustily, -and parried with dazzling skill an almost simultaneous attack -from de Landas and Herlaer on one side and Maarege and -du Prêt on the other. They fell on him with redoubled -energy, wellnigh frenzied by the seeming invincibility of -their foe, their own impotence. They had thought to make -sure of victory, had come in their numbers to administer -humiliation and correction, and now were half crazy with -impending defeat. And so vigorous became their attack, -so determined were they to bring that hated foe to his -knees, that it seemed for the moment as if he must succumb, -as if only some sort of magic could save him. -</p> - -<p> -But for a man of Gilles' temperament there could be no -such thing as defeat. Defeat for him meant humiliation, -which he could not tolerate, and the failure of Madame la -Reyne's cherished plan. He was not only defending his -life now, but her schemes and her happiness. His perfect -blade accomplished miracles of defence; again and again -his enemies returned to the charge. But that blade lived; -it breathed; it palpitated with every thrust and every -parry, swifter than lightning's flash. Now it was du Prêt's -turn to stagger under a slashing cut on the shoulder, whilst -La Broye was almost swooning with loss of blood. -</p> - -<p> -'For two! And for three!' cried Gilles with a laugh. -'Three more of you, and I have done!' -</p> - -<p> -With a cry of rage de Landas turned to the serving-men -who, appalled by the fury of this combat, were cowering -together in a far corner of the room, hardly daring to breathe. -</p> - -<p> -'Here, Jan!' he shouted hoarsely. 'Peter! Nikolas! -All of you! Seize that man! Fall on him! Seize him! -At him! At him, I say!' -</p> - -<p> -For just the fraction of a second the men shrank away -still further into the angle of the room, terrified at the -uncontrolled rage which had prompted the monstrous and -cowardly command. They hesitated but only for one -instant, and during that instant there was breathing time -for all. But the next, egged on by de Landas' threatening -commands, they gathered themselves together and came -forward at a rush. -</p> - -<p> -Gilles at once saw this new, this unexpected source of -danger. The utter cowardice of this fresh attack lent him -strength and power to act. With one of those swift, -masterful gestures of his which were as unexpected as they were -unerring, he threw aside his sword and seizing one of the -heavy chairs which lay prone close by, he raised it above -his head and brandishing it like a gigantic swivel he stood -there, towering, menacing, breathing hatred too now against -the dastardly foe who could thus outrage every canon of -chivalry and of valour. -</p> - -<p> -He struck out with the heavy chair, to right, to left. -The varlets paused, really terrified. De Landas egged them -on, prodded them with his sword. He had wandered so -far now on the broad road of infamy, he was ready to go -on to its ignominious end. -</p> - -<p> -'Fall on him, Jan! Nikolas! All of you, you abominable -knaves!' he cried huskily. 'Fall on him; or by -Satan, I'll have you all hanged to-morrow!' -</p> - -<p> -He beat them with the flat of his sword, kicked them and -struck at them with his fist, till they were forced to advance. -The heavy chair came down with a crash on the head of -one man, the shoulder of another. There were loud curses -and louder groans; but numbers were telling in the end. -One more assault, one more rush, and they were on him. -Then Gilles, as if by instinct, felt the folds of the heavy -window curtain behind him. -</p> - -<p> -To gain one second's time, he threw the chair straight -at the compact mass of men, disconcerting the attack; -then with both hands he seized the curtain, gave it a mighty -wrench which brought it down in a heaped up medley of -voluminous folds and broken cornice, and threw the whole -mass of tangled drapery on his onrushing foes. De Landas, -who was in the forefront of the aggressors, was the first -to lose his footing. Already weak with loss of blood, he -stumbled and fell, dragging one or two of the varlets with -him. The edge of the cornice struck du Prêt on the head -and completed the swoon which had already been threatening -him, whilst Maarege, dazed, uncomprehending, stared -about him in a state of semi-imbecility. -</p> - -<p> -The other knaves, paralysed by some kind of superstitious -fear, gazed on him open-mouthed while Gilles, still -moved only by the blind instinct of self-preservation, -extricated himself from his newly-improvised stronghold. -</p> - -<p> -His first instinctive act was to stoop in order to pick -up his sword again. A momentary lull—strange and weird -in its absolute stillness had succeeded the wild confusion -of awhile ago. Gilles staggered as he straightened out his -tall figure once more, was at last conscious that even his -splendid endurance had been nigh to breaking point. There -was a mist before his eyes, through which he could vaguely -perceive a cowering group of lacqueys quite close to him, -huddled up together almost at his feet in the gloom; others, -whose vague forms could be discerned under the fallen -tapestry: further on, de Borel, lying helpless beside -Herlaer; Maarege still clutching his broken sword; La Broye -in a swoon, lying across the upturned desk, and de Landas, -half-sitting, half-reclining, on an overthrown chair, obviously -struggling against dizziness, his hand outstretched, with -convulsed fingers that still threatened and pointed at the -hated foe. -</p> - -<p> -For the moment Gilles could not move. The mask on -his face scorched his brow and cheeks as if it had been made -of hot iron, and yet, though he longed to tear it off, his -arm, from sheer exhaustion, refused him service. He longed -to get out of that door, to find Jehan; but his limbs felt -as if they were weighted with lead: his very brain was in -a state of torpor. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -V -</h4> - -<p> -Just then, through that semi-conscious state, he heard -swift footsteps approaching down the main staircase, then -across the hall. The serving-men, almost blind with terror, -heard them too, crouched yet closer together in the gloom. -They dragged themselves along the floor, nearer to Gilles, -as if for protection. Experience had taught the poor -wretches that, whatever else happened, they would be made -to suffer for all that had occurred. True, they deserved -all that they would get, for they too had played an ignoble -part; but whatever else happened there would be floggings -or worse for them. Their employers were too weak now -to protect them even if they would. M. le Marquis, enraged -at defeat, would perhaps be the first to give his men away. -So they gathered round Gilles now—round the man whom -they had helped almost to murder. They clung to him -in their sheer, unreasoning cowardice—the instinct to get -behind something that was still stalwart and strong. They -crawled away into the shadow, out of sight of Monseigneur's -serving-men if these should come, of the night-watchmen -or of the Palace guard if they appeared upon the scene. -</p> - -<p> -Thus Gilles, when he tried to move towards the door, -could not do so because of that cringing mass of humanity -that clung, terror-stricken, round his legs. He was too -utterly weary to kick them all aside, so he remained quite -still, listening to those approaching footsteps. One of -these he could have sworn to—heavy, and with a slight -dragging of the feet—which could only have belonged to -Jehan. He tried to call to his faithful henchman, but his -throat was so dry he could not utter a sound. -</p> - -<p> -The footsteps were quite close now, and through the -open doorway he could see that a new and flickering light -threw every nook of the corridor into bold relief. A -torch-bearer was coming along; other lighter footsteps followed, -and anon it seemed as if a woman's satin skirts swept the -marble floor with its melodious frou-frou. -</p> - -<p> -Gilles now was in a trance-like state on the borders of -unconsciousness, a state wherein the body's utter exhaustion -seems to render the mental perceptions abnormally acute. -He could only stand and gaze at the open doorway; but -he knew that in a very few seconds she would appear. He -knew that it was she who was coming: she and Jehan. -Old Jehan had found her and brought her along, and now -that he—Gilles—was weary and sick she would minister -to him and tend him as she had done that night, long ago, -in what still seemed to him so like a dream. -</p> - -<p> -The next moment the second half of the folding door -was flung open and a torch, held aloft by a serving-man, -threw a flood of light into the room. Immediately afterwards, -under the lintel of the door, Jacqueline appeared, -just as Gilles had expected her to do, like a vision of the -angel of peace, in her shimmering white satin gown, with -the pearls round her neck and her crown of golden hair. -She had no mask on, and even through the veil which seemed -to hang before Gilles' eyes he could see that tantalizing little -brown mole which gave such exquisite, roguish charm to -her face and made of the angel vision a living, perfect piece -of adorable womanhood. -</p> - -<p> -Jacqueline de Broyart was not the sort of woman who -would faint at sight of blood. Her country had suffered -too much and too long for her to have remained ignorant -and detached from all the horrors which perpetual warfare -against tyranny and intolerance had sowed broadcast upon -the land. She had ministered to the sick and tended, the -wounded ever since her baby hands had been strong enough -to apply a bandage. But at sight of this disordered room, -of the ghastly faces of these men—ghastly above their -blood-stained masks—of de Landas' weird, convulsive -gesture, of Maarege's attitude of vacant imbecility, of all -the litter of stained floor and soiled bits of finery, she recoiled -with an involuntary cry of horror. The recoil, however, -was only momentary; the next, she had come forward -quickly, a cry of pity this time upon her lips. Her first -thought was for de Landas—the friend, the playmate, the -lover. She hurried to him, hardly looked on Gilles, who -could not move or call, who tried not to stagger or to fall -headlong at her feet. -</p> - -<p> -Now Jacqueline had her arms round her lover, his head -rested against her shoulder, soiling the white satin of her -gown with ugly crimson stains. But that she did not heed. -She could not conjecture what had happened! That stuttering, -stammering creature, himself half dazed and bruised, -had found his way to Monseigneur's living-room, had in -incoherent language implored her to come. Monseigneur -happened to be absent from the room at the moment, had -gone to give orders to one of his servants. Jacqueline -was alone, sitting by the hearth waiting for him when the -creature came. She knew him for the henchman of the -Prince de Froidmont, the man who had fought so valiantly -to defend his master awhile ago in the banqueting hall. -She could see that he was hurt and in grave distress and -gathered from his confused stammer that something awful -was happening somewhere in the Palace. She followed him -without any hesitation, and now through that medley of -hideous sights which confronted her in this room, the most -vivid thing that struck her gaze was de Landas' convulsive -gesture, pointing at Gilles. -</p> - -<p> -Already, with a few quick words, she had despatched the -torchbearer for assistance. -</p> - -<p> -'Go, Anselm!' she said, 'and rouse Nicolle and two of -my women. Tell them some gentlemen are hurt and that -I order them to come hither at once and to bring all that -is necessary for the dressing of wounds. And—stay!' she -added in a tone of peremptory command. 'Not a word -to Monseigneur or to his men—you understand?' -</p> - -<p> -The man nodded in quick comprehension, fixed the torch -into the wall-bracket and went. As soon as he had gone -Jacqueline turned back to de Landas, pillowed his aching -head upon her bosom and held his poor, trembling hand in -her strong, warm grasp. Then only did she turn to look -on Gilles. -</p> - -<p> -He appeared unhurt, or nearly so. True, his doublet -was stained—he might have received a scratch—and he -bore about his person that unmistakable air of a fighting -man who has been in the thick of a fight; but amongst -these other fallen and fainting men he alone was standing—and -standing firmly, on his feet. And he had a group of -men around him, all of whom were quite obviously unhurt. -They looked like his henchmen, for they crowded close -behind him, looking up to him as to their master. -</p> - -<p> -So, whatever had happened—and Jacqueline gave an -involuntary shudder at the thoughts and conjectures which -were crowding into her brain—whatever else had happened, -the stranger had had plenty of minions and varlets with -him to defend him, even if he had been set upon by de -Landas and his friends. -</p> - -<p> -It were easy to blame Jacqueline for the utterly false -interpretation which she had put on what she saw; but -de Landas was the friend, the playmate, and—yes!—the -lover; whilst Gilles was only a stranger and an adventurer -at best. Strangers were both feared and hated these days -in this unfortunate, stricken country, that was tyrannized -over and cowed by conquerors of alien blood; and though -Jacqueline was shrewd enough to suspect de Landas and -his companions of the treachery which they had indeed -committed, yet in her mind she half-excused him on the -plea that the Prince de Froidmont had been unchivalrous -and timid enough to have his person guarded by a gang of -paid varlets. Thus it was that the look which she threw -on Gilles was both contemptuous and unpitying. -</p> - -<p> -'I pray you, Messire,' she said coldly, 'to leave my -guardian's house, ere I call to him to demand of you an -explanation which I imagine you are not prepared to give.' -</p> - -<p> -Her words, her look, were so different to what Gilles had -expected that, for the moment, he remained absolutely -speechless. He certainly had not his wits entirely about -him, or he would not, after that one moment of silence, -have burst into a harsh and prolonged laugh. -</p> - -<p> -'Messire!' reiterated Jacqueline, more peremptorily, -'I have desired you to go, and to take your varlets along -with you, ere they swoon with the excess of their terror.' -</p> - -<p> -'Your varlets!' Gilles laughed more loudly than -before—indeed, he felt that he could no longer stop himself -from laughing now until he dropped down dead on the -floor. Jacqueline was leaning over de Landas and saying -something to him which he—Gilles—could not very well -hear, but her whole attitude, the look wherewith she regarded -the wounded man, sent such a pang of insensate jealousy -through Gilles' heart that he could have groaned aloud with -the misery of it. -</p> - -<p> -'I entreat you, my beloved,' de Landas murmured more -audibly after awhile, 'to go back to your apartments. This -is no place for you, and my friends and I will struggle -homewards anon.' -</p> - -<p> -'I cannot leave you like this, José!' she broke in firmly. -'Not while—while that man and his varlets are here!' -</p> - -<p> -Ye gods! the humour of the situation! No wonder -that Gilles could not cease laughing, even though his side -ached and his head felt like splitting with pain. But he -obeyed her commands, peremptorily ordered the cowering -group of knaves to go; and they, thankful to escape, -rushed helter-skelter for the door. Probably they never -understood what the noble lady had been saying, and they -were too stupid with terror to say aught in protest. Whether -M. le Marquis de Landas, who had employed them for this -night's work, would pay them liberally on the morrow, as -he had promised, or have them flogged for failing to murder -the stranger, still remained to be seen. For the moment, -they were only too thankful to escape with their skins whole. -Jehan, who much against his will had been forced to remain -at attention behind the door, relieved his feelings by giving -each of them a vigorous kick ere they started to run madly -down the corridor. -</p> - -<p> -While the last of them was stumbling over the threshold -Gilles managed to pull himself together sufficiently to stop -that paroxysm of ungovernable laughter. -</p> - -<p> -'Have no fear, Madame,' he contrived to say with -moderate coherence and a full measure of contemptuous -irony, 'I'll not harm M. le Marquis de Landas or his five -gallant friends, on mine honour! All that remains for me -to do now is to collect the half-dozen masks which I swore -awhile ago to place as a trophy at your feet.' -</p> - -<p> -'I forbid you, Messire,' she retorted coldly, 'to pursue -this callous jest any further.' -</p> - -<p> -'Jest? It was no jest, Madame! I swore to unmask -these gentlemen, and——' -</p> - -<p> -'And took good care to protect yourself against their -wrath by a crowd of ruffianly bullies! The victory—if, -indeed, there be one—doth not redound to the credit of -Messire le Prince de Froidmont.' -</p> - -<p> -'Even so, I must redeem my pledge,' he riposted in a tone -quite as cool now as hers. 'So, by your leave——' -</p> - -<p> -She watched him, fascinated—somewhat like a hare -might watch the playful antics of a tiger—with blue eyes -opened wide in wonder and horror, as he went lightly from -one man to the other and with deft fingers removed their -masks, then threaded them by the eye-slits along the length -of his sword. De Borel never moved—he was quite -unconscious, and La Broye only groaned and tried to turn -away. But both Herlaer and du Prêt struggled in feeble -self-defence, and Maarege, still clutching his broken rapier, -made futile efforts to lunge at Gilles. But they too were -faint from exhaustion and loss of blood, and Gilles, who -had himself well in hand, had strength enough for his -self-imposed task. Jacqueline never moved. Protests against -this outrage were obviously of no avail, and physically she -had not the strength to intervene. But when he finally -turned to de Landas, she interposed with all her might, -with the motherly instinct of a bird, striving to protect -its mate. -</p> - -<p> -'I forbid you, Messire!' she cried. -</p> - -<p> -But even before the words were out of her mouth, de -Landas with a hoarse cry of pent-up rage had struggled -to his feet. With convulsed hands he fell heavily on Gilles, -gripping him by the throat. Jacqueline could not suppress -the cry of horror which rose to her lips: these two wounded -men, one of them in the last stages of exhaustion, fighting -and tearing, at grips with one another, like beasts convulsed -in a desperate struggle for life. -</p> - -<p> -But that same struggle could not help but be brief. De -Landas was vanquished even before his last futile effort -had fully matured. A minute or two later he was on his -knees. Gilles held him down with one hand and with the -other detached the mask from his face. He had thrown -down his sword when de Landas attacked him with his -hands. The row of masks had slid down the blade; they -now lay in a mass upon the matting, right at Jacqueline's -feet. De Landas' mask went to join the rest, and Gilles -coolly picked up his sword. The light from the torch was -full on him. Jacqueline still watched him, speechless and -fascinated. It seemed as if she could not detach her eyes -from him—his masked face, his broad shoulders, his hands; -above all, his hands—the left one wherewith he tossed de -Landas' mask at her feet; and the right, which clutched -that exquisitely fashioned rapier with so much conscious -power. -</p> - -<p> -In a vague, dreamy kind of way, she noted how slender -and nervy were those hands, despite their outward roughness -and toil-worn look—the hands of a soldier, very obviously. -The Prince de Froidmont must have been in many a bloody -fray; had been wounded too on the left wrist—a severe -cut. The scar gleamed white against the bronzed hue of -the flesh. Jacqueline gazed on, strangely stirred. The -scar was a very peculiar one, shaped like a cross, and at -the time must almost have severed the wrist from the arm. -She only remembered having once seen a similar wound, -which must have left just such a peculiar scar. That was -some three years ago, after that awful fight near Gembloux. -Her brother Jan, since dead, was at the time lying sick at -the monastery close by. She had wandered out for a breath -of fresh air, feeling weary and desperately anxious. She -was a mere child then, just past her sixteenth year. -Outside the postern gate she and Nicolle had espied a soldier, -lying wounded and unconscious on the ground. Nicolle -had gone for help and two of the good monks had carried -the poor man into the monastery. The leech who waited -on Jan had tended him, and afterwards Jacqueline had -ordered him to be transported back on the abandoned -battle-field, where mayhap his comrades would presently -find him; and she had seen that he was provided with food -and with a pitcher of water, for she had been so sorry—so -very sorry for him. -</p> - -<p> -All that had happened three years ago, and Jacqueline -had never thought on the matter again until now. Strange -that the scar on Messire le Prince de Froidmont's wrist -should so remind her of that little incident which had occurred -in the monastery near Gembloux. Strange also that Messire -should stand before her now and be searching her face with -that intent glance of his, which she could feel right through -the slits of his mask. He caught her looking at him so -inquiringly and she straightway averted her gaze; but -not before she had noted that with a quick gesture he had -suddenly pulled the sleeve of his doublet well over his -hand. -</p> - -<p> -Gilles abruptly made for the door. But close to the -threshold he turned and looked once more on Jacqueline. -He could no longer see her face now, for she was stooping -to de Landas, supporting him with her strong young arms. -She had given one glance at the half-dozen masks which -lay there on the floor where he had thrown them down. -One or two were stained, others torn. She gave a shudder -of horror and buried her face on de Landas' shoulder! -Gilles could see that at sight of those things she had at last -given way to tears and that convulsive sobs were shaking -her lovely shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -He felt a miserable brute—a callous ruffian who, for the -sake of despicable vainglory, had done just the last thing -that broke down this valiant woman's magnificent fortitude. -A wave of self-contempt swept over him. He had -meant to justify himself, to tell her that, far from being a -common braggart who employed paid spadassins to save -his own skin, he and his one faithful henchman had been -set upon by her lover and his friends aided by half a dozen -varlets to boot. He had meant to challenge de Landas to -deny this truth, to force an avowal from his lips or from -those of the young coxcombs who had played such a cowardly -rôle in this night's work. -</p> - -<p> -Yes, he had meant her to know the truth—the truth which -would have shown her her lover and her friends in their -true light. But when he saw those exquisite shoulders -shaken with sobs, when he heard the pitiful little moans -which at last found their way to her lips, he felt that he -could not add yet another sorrow to the heavy burden -which was weighing that golden head down. Now he was -something of a knave in her sight; if she learned the truth -from his lips he would become a cur in his own. -</p> - -<p> -And, bidding Jehan to follow him, Gilles de Crohin -hurried out of the room. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap12"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XII -<br /><br /> -HOW TWO LETTERS CAME TO BE WRITTEN -</h3> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -I -</h4> - -<p class="quote"> -'Madam la Reyne,' wrote Gilles the self-same night -ere he laid down to rest, 'I entreat you to seek out -Monseigneur le duc d'Anjou at once. Matters have occurred -which might endanger the whole Success of this Enterprise. -Madame Jacqueline is beautiful, exquisite, the most perfect -Woman that ever graced a princely husband's house. So let -Monseigneur come at once, Madame la Reyne, at once, I beg -of you most humbly! and do entreat you to send me word by -Maître Jehan when I may expect him. -</p> - -<p class="quote"> - 'I am, your Majesty's<br /> - 'Most Obedient and Most Faithful Servant,<br /> - 'Gilles de Crohin.'<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -He felt more calm, more at peace with himself when he -had written this letter, and allowed Jehan now to undress -him and to attend to his wounds. They were not serious, -certainly not so serious as many others which he had -sustained in the past and recovered from without much trouble. -But, somehow, this time he felt in a fever, the paltry scratches -seemed unaccountably to throb, and his temples ached nigh -to splitting. -</p> - -<p> -Jehan, stolid and disapproving, pulled off his master's -boots, took off doublet and hose with care and dexterity, -but without making any attempt at conversation. What -went on behind his low, square forehead could easily be -conjectured: a towering rage against his own halting speech, -which had prevented his proclaiming the truth before -Madame Jacqueline, warred with a certain vague terror -that Messire was angered with him for having brought -Madame upon the scene. -</p> - -<p> -But Messire apparently was too tired to scold. With -unusual meekness he allowed Jehan to wash and dress that -cut he had in the shoulder, and the one which had penetrated -the fleshy part of his thigh. Maître Jehan was skilful -in such matters. His father had been an apothecary -at Grenoble and had taught the youngster something of the -art of drugs and simples, until the latter's roving disposition -had driven him to seeking fortune abroad. He still knew, -however, how to minister to a wounded man, how to stem -the flow of blood, and apply healing bandages. All this he -did now in silence, and with the loving care engendered by -his passionate affection for the master whom he served, the -friend to whom he owed his life. -</p> - -<p> -And all the while Gilles lay quite quiescent, so passive -and patient that Jehan felt he must be very sick. Anger, -self-contempt, self-reproach, had brought a heavy frown -between his brows. Jacqueline's adorable image gave him -a heart-ache more difficult to bear than any physical pain. -For a long while he kept his eyes resolutely closed, in order -to shut out the vision of a golden head and a demure, -tantalizing face, which seemed to mock at him from out the -dark angle of the room. It was only when Jehan had finished -his ministrations and in his turn was ready to go to bed -that he woke once more to the realities of life. -</p> - -<p> -'Thou art a good soul, Jehan,' he murmured, with the -first return to well-being brought about by the good fellow's -restoratives. -</p> - -<p> -'And you a mightily foolish one!' thought Jehan within -himself, while he merely stuttered a moody: 'Aye—aye!' -</p> - -<p> -'To-morrow morning,' continued Gilles; 'or rather, this -morning—for 'tis past midnight now—thou'lt start for La -Fère——' -</p> - -<p> -'F-f-f-for La F-f-f——' -</p> - -<p> -'For La Fère. Thou'lt take thy safe-conduct and this -letter which I have just written for Madame la Reyne de -Navarre.' -</p> - -<p> -'B-b-b-but——' -</p> - -<p> -'Hold thy tongue till I have finished. If Madame la -Reyne hath perchance left La Fère, thou'lt follow her -whithersoever she may have gone.' -</p> - -<p> -'And if-f-f-f——' -</p> - -<p> -'There is no "if" about the matter, my good Jehan,' -quoth Gilles with a sigh and in a tone of unwonted firmness. -'Thou must find Madame la Reyne, and if she be not in -La Fère then thou must follow her to Paris, or to Pau, -or to the outermost ends of the earth; for Madame la Reyne -must have my letter as soon as ever possible or the -consequences for her, for me, for us all would be disastrous.' -</p> - -<p> -Jehan made no further attempt at conversation. He -only nodded his head in obedience and understanding. -</p> - -<p> -'Madame la Reyne,' continued Gilles after a moment's -pause, 'will, I doubt not, send me a letter in reply. I -need not tell thee, Jehan, to guard both my letter and her -reply with thy life.' -</p> - -<p> -'N-n-no!' said Jehan with sudden glibness. 'You -n-n-need not t-t-tell me that.' -</p> - -<p> -'The letter would give us all away if it fell in alien hands. -It must be destroyed, and thou too, honest Jehan, ere it -leave thy hands.' -</p> - -<p> -Jehan made a sign of comprehension, which Gilles -evidently understood, for he continued more easily: -</p> - -<p> -'Then get some rest now, Jehan, for thou must start as -soon after daybreak as possible. And in God's name,' he -added with a weary sigh, 'return with the answer within the -week, or maybe thou'lt find my body rotting upon the -gallows somewhere in the town.' -</p> - -<p> -Jehan shrugged his wide shoulders. This meant that he -thought his master must be slightly delirious, else he would -never have spoken such rubbish. He took the letter which -Gilles had folded into as small a compass as possible, and -slipped it underneath his doublet and his shirt, against his -skin. Then he tapped his breast and looked reassuringly -on his master. Gesture and look conveyed all that he -desired, and Gilles was satisfied. -</p> - -<p> -He knew that he could trust Jehan as he would himself. -With a final sigh which was almost one of content, he turned -over on his side and went to sleep. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -II -</h4> - -<p> -But faithful Jehan le Bègue did not go to sleep that -night. Not until the late hours of the morning did he do -that, and by then he was half a league away out of Cambray. -As soon as he had seen his master lying in comparative -comfort, he picked up the guttering candle and, walking -cautiously on the tips of his toes, he went downstairs. -Immediately under the stairs there was a narrow cupboard, -and here upon the bare boards, rolled up In a blanket, -Maître Julien was wont to sleep—of late with one eye open -and one ear ready prepared to catch the slightest sound, -since his liege-lady, the exquisite Queen of Navarre, had -constituted him the guardian of Monseigneur le Prince de -Froidmont. -</p> - -<p> -Even now, at the first sound of those cautious footsteps, -Julien was awake, and when, a minute or two later, Jehan -peered into the narrow cupboard, he met the youth's eyes -staring at him, glowing with that look of alertness and -wariness which is peculiar to small animals at bay. He -had raised himself on his elbow, but Jehan could see that -underneath the ragged coverlet Julien's hand was grasping -a pistol. -</p> - -<p> -'F-f-f-friend,' he stuttered in a gruff whisper, 'g-g-get -up. M-m-monseigneur's service,' he added significantly. -</p> - -<p> -In a trice Julien was up. -</p> - -<p> -'What is it?' -</p> - -<p> -Jehan made several animated gestures, indicative of -writing. -</p> - -<p> -'Follow me,' rejoined Julien briefly. -</p> - -<p> -He took the candle from Jehan and together the two men -went into the room opposite, which served as taproom for -the few guests who honoured 'Les Trois Rois' with their -custom. -</p> - -<p> -There was a long, narrow table at one end of the room. -On this Julien placed the candle; then from a small cupboard -in the wall he took paper, pen, sand and inkhorn, and -placed these also upon the table. -</p> - -<p> -There ensued then a long, whispered consultation between -these two men. Julien with infinite patience gradually drew -from Maître Jehan, bit by bit, almost word for word what -he required. Ah! if Maître Jehan could only have put his -wishes down on paper, matters would have been quite -easy; but calligraphy was one of the arts which that worthy -had never mastered in his youth, and which he certainly -had not practised for the past twenty years. But what -knowledge could not accomplish, that a boundless devotion -on both sides contrived to do this night. Perspiration stood -out in great beads upon Jehan's forehead, there was a deep -frown of perplexity upon his brow as he stammered out -laborious instructions to Julien. There was a strong vein -of dogged obstinacy in his composition and a certain sound -was still ringing in his ear, which spurred him to desperate -efforts to make himself understood. It was the sound of -Messire's weird laugh—harsh and uncontrolled—when -Madame had taunted him with having a number of paid -ruffians round him to help him in the fight against all those -noble assassins. Paid ruffians, forsooth! Madame should -know the truth, even if Maître Jehan's brain gave way under -the terrible strain of making that cheesy-faced Julien -understand what he wanted. -</p> - -<p> -And Julien, intent, ghastly pale in his eagerness, listened -with ear and mind and eyes and every sense strained to -breaking point, to find sense and coherence in Jehan's -stammering. For two hours these two men sat face to -face with the guttering candle between them, glaring into -one another's face, as if each would tear out the other's -innermost brain and knead it to his will. -</p> - -<p> -But at last Julien understood. By dint of broken -monosyllables and emphatic gestures, Jehan had made it clear -to him what had happened, and Julien, suddenly motioning -the other to be silent, was at last able to put pen to -paper. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="quote"> -'Most noble and gracious Seigneur,' he wrote, 'the writer -is only a poor servant and you are a great and Puissant Lord; -but I will tell you the Truth about what happened this night. -Messire was set upon by six Noblemen, and the Writer -was set upon by six Knaves. Messire was taken unawares and -so was I. I feigned dead dog because I wanted to go and -fetch help. Then the knaves were called away to help in the -Murder of Messire, and I went to call Madame. Twelve -against two, Monseigneur! Was that right? And Messire -fought them all single-handed. This is the truth so help me -God and I am Monseigneur's -</p> - -<p class="quote"> - 'Most humble and obedient Servant,<br /> - 'Jehan: servant to Monseigneur le Prince de Froidmont.'<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -When Julien had finished writing the letter he read it -through aloud to Jehan three times; then, when the latter -expressed himself completely satisfied with it, he folded it -and Jehan slipped it inside his doublet, beside the one which -Messire had given him. -</p> - -<p> -After which, he took up the candle again and bade Maître -Julien 'good-night.' He did not thank Julien, because he -knew quite well that what the latter had done had given -him infinite happiness to do. Every gesture, every look -in the young man's face had proclaimed that happiness. -In serving Monseigneur le Prince de Froidmont, he had -indirectly served the goddess whom he worshipped from -afar. His pale face still irradiated with joy, he went back -to his poor, hard bed, to dream that She was smiling on -him for his devotion to Her wishes. -</p> - -<p> -And Jehan went straightway to his master's room. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -III -</h4> - -<p> -The pale rays of a wintry moon came creeping in through -the narrow casement-window. A lovely night had succeeded -the drenching rain of awhile ago. Messire lay quite still -upon his bed, but when Jehan crept close up to him he saw -that his eyes were wide open. -</p> - -<p> -'What's the matter, Jehan?' Gilles asked, when he -saw his faithful henchman standing before him, booted -and fully dressed. -</p> - -<p> -'I can't sl-sl-sl-sleep,' replied Jehan unblushingly, 's-s-so -I'll g-g-g-go now.' -</p> - -<p> -'At once?' -</p> - -<p> -Jehan nodded. -</p> - -<p> -'Can you get your horse at this hour?' -</p> - -<p> -Jehan nodded again. -</p> - -<p> -'You have your safe-conduct?—the letter?' -</p> - -<p> -More vigorous nods from Jehan. -</p> - -<p> -'Take what money you want from there.' And Gilles -with a jerk of the head indicated the valise which contained -his effects. -</p> - -<p> -Jehan knelt on the floor beside the valise and turned -over his master's belongings. He took a small purse -containing some gold, which he slipped into the pocket of his -breeches; then he selected a fresh doublet, hose and mantle -for Messire to wear and carefully folded and put away the -tattered garments which had suffered so much damage -during the fight. Oh! Maître Jehan was a tidy valet when -he gave his mind to such trivial matters, and just now his -mind was sorely exercised over Messire's future plight when -he would be deprived of the services of so efficient a henchman. -</p> - -<p> -Messire watched all his doings with much amusement. -</p> - -<p> -''Tis not the first time that I shall be servantless, my -good man,' he said lightly. 'And of a truth I have been -too much pampered in that way of late. I still know how -to dress myself and how to clean my boots—Aye!' he added, -catching Jehan's look of reproach, 'and how to tend to -these silly scratches which the very unskilful blades of -M. de Landas and his friends did inflict upon my body.' -</p> - -<p> -With a gesture of genuine affection he put out his hand, -and good old Jehan took it in both his rough brown ones. -When Gilles withdrew his hand again he noticed that -there was a warm, wet spot upon it, whilst Jehan turned -away very quickly, wiping his nose with the sleeve of his -doublet. -</p> - -<p> -But not another word was spoken by either of these two -men—master and servant, friends and comrades—who -understood one another to the last secret thought and the -innermost heartbeat. -</p> - -<p> -A moment or two later, Jehan had blown out the candle -and was gone, and Gilles, lying on the narrow paillasse, -wide awake, listened while he could hear his faithful -servant's heavy footstep stumping along the corridor and -down the stairs. -</p> - -<p> -The wintry moon shed a weird, cold light into the narrow -room, upon his valise, the elegant doublet which Jehan -had so carefully laid out, the bottle of sedative, the fresh -bandages, the pots of salve laid close to his hands. A heavy -sigh rose involuntarily to his lips. Life appeared very -difficult and very complicated just then. It had been so -extraordinarily simple before: fighting for the most part, -starving often, no cares, no worries, no thought for the -morrow; then the axe finally laid to the root of life, -somewhere on a battlefield, when Destiny had worked her will -with the soldier of fortune. -</p> - -<p> -But now——! And there was faithful Jehan, dragged -too, and innocently, into this adventure, involved in an -episode which might find the gallows for its conclusion. -Gilles, listening, could hear his henchman's raucous stutter, -rousing the echoes of the squalid little hostelry. Anon -there was much scuffling and shuffling, doors opening and -shutting, calls from Jehan and calls from Julien; then for -awhile only distant and confused sounds of people stirring. -Ten minutes or a quarter of an hour later the tramp of a -horse's hoofs upon the cobblestones, more calls and some -shouting, a good deal of clatter, the final banging of a heavy -door—then nothing more. -</p> - -<p> -And Gilles turned over, trying to get to sleep. In his -hand he held, tightly clutched, a small, white, sweet-scented -rag—a tiny ball of damp cambric; and ever and anon he -raised that ball to his lips ... or to his eyes. But he -could not get to sleep. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap13"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XIII -<br /><br /> -HOW MADAME JACQUELINE WAS GRAVELY PUZZLED -</h3> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -I -</h4> - -<p> -Old Nicolle and the women had known how to hold -their tongues, so had Madame Jacqueline's torch-bearer. -Indiscretion these days, where the affairs of noble -gentlemen were concerned, was apt to bring terrible reprisals -in its train. And above all, M. le Marquis de Landas was -not a gentleman to be trifled with. If he desired secrecy, -secrecy he would have, and woe betide the unfortunates -who had not known how to hold their tongue. -</p> - -<p> -Nicolle, aided by Maria and Bertine—two of Madame's -most trustworthy serving-maids—had done their best to -tend the wounds of the noble seigneurs, while the torch-bearer -was despatched to their respective houses to summon -immediate assistance. Messire de Borel was wealthy, -owned horses and had an army of servants; the Comte -du Prêt lived in a fine palace on the Place Verte, and the -Seigneur de Maarege in the Rue St. George. -</p> - -<p> -It was all done very quickly and very discreetly. -Monseigneur the governor was never meant to know what -had occurred in his Palace that night; servants came -and went on tiptoe; the night watchmen had anyhow been -bribed to secrecy. Martin et Martine at the Town Hall -had only chimed the second hour of the morning and already -the six young gallants had been conveyed back to their -homes; the boudoir was locked up and the key given in -charge of the night watchmen, who would see that order -there was once more restored. -</p> - -<p> -Jacqueline never deserted her self-appointed post until -she was satisfied that the last vestige of that awful scuffle -had been effectually obliterated. She helped Nicolle and -her women to dress the wounds of the young seigneurs; -she remained by de Landas' side until she saw him safely -in the stalwart arms of his own henchmen. It was amazing -how a girl, so young and so inexperienced, was able to give -directions and to keep her head through this amazingly -trying time. She had broken down once, when Gilles had -thrown the masks at her feet; but directly he had gone -she recovered herself, and from that moment everything -was done at her command. Nicolle and the women, who -were on the verge of losing their heads—of screaming and -falling into a panic, were soon restored to order and efficiency -by Madame's coolness and by her courage. -</p> - -<p> -Jacqueline never flinched, nor did she ask any questions. -She was affectionate with de Landas and gentle to all, but -evidently her one care was to keep this miserable affair -a secret from her guardian. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -II -</h4> - -<p> -On the other hand, I, for one, am not going to say that -Gilles de Crohin was not a sick man on the following -morning, when he managed to crawl out of bed and to -dress himself, inwardly cursing the absence of his faithful -Jehan. He made light of 'scratches,' but he had no fewer -than five about his body, and the flesh wound in his thigh -was exceedingly unpleasant. He had sat moodily in his -narrow room for some time, vaguely wondering what in -the world he was to do with himself, or whether Madame -Jacqueline would ever care to set eyes on him again. -</p> - -<p> -He was smarting under the sense of injustice. What -right had she to look on him as a braggart who would pay -a set of knaves to help him in his quarrels? The feeling -of insensate jealousy which was gnawing at his heart was -still more unpleasant to bear. He almost understood de -Landas' hatred of himself after the episode in the banqueting -hall, for he—Gilles—was at this moment experiencing -just that same torturing jealousy, which had caused de -Landas to outrage every canon of chivalry and honour -for the sake of getting even with an execrated rival. -</p> - -<p> -In fact, neither his mental nor his physical condition -was in an enviable state when a runner arrived that morning -at 'Les Trois Rois' and asked for leave to speak with Messire -Gilles de Crohin, equerry to Monseigneur le Prince de Froidmont. -</p> - -<p> -Gilles, a little bewildered by this unexpected occurrence, -met the runner in the taproom of the hostelry. Somewhat -curtly, he told the man that Monseigneur le Prince was -sick, and that he—Gilles—was in attendance on his master. -But the messenger appeared in no way disconcerted at the -rebuff; he seemed to have received instructions that would -cover every eventuality. -</p> - -<p> -'Monseigneur the governor,' he said, 'had heard a -rumour that His Magnificence was sick. Therefore he -begged that Messire de Crohin would forthwith come over -to the Palace and reassure him as to the condition of his -master, Monseigneur le Prince de Froidmont.' -</p> - -<p> -The runner had long disappeared down the Rue aux -Juifs and Gilles de Crohin was still standing in the middle -of the taproom, clutching his chin with his hand in a state -of most unenviable perturbation. A very severe test on -his histrionic powers was about to be imposed upon him. -Monseigneur's desire—nay! his command—could not be -disregarded. He—Gilles—must present himself at the -Palace just as he was—playing no rôle this time, save that -of striving to obliterate all similarity between himself as -he really was and would be to-day, and himself as he had -been in Monseigneur's sight during the past five days. -</p> - -<p> -No wonder that at the prospect he too—like Jehan last -night—felt cold drops of sweat rising to the roots of his -hair. I will not say that the thought of seeing Madame -Jacqueline again, if he went to the Palace, did not in a -measure give him courage; but even that courage was -only fictitious, because in all probability she would scarce -vouchsafe to look on the servant, seeing that her heart -was filled with hatred and contempt for the master. -</p> - -<p> -Nevertheless, he was at the Palace less than an hour -later. Monseigneur was very gracious, and apparently -not the least suspicious. He only expressed regret that -it had not been his good fortune to meet Messire Gilles de -Crohin ere this. On the other hand, his apologies for -what had occurred the night before inside his own Palace -were both profuse and humble—almost abject. -</p> - -<p> -'I beg you, Messire,' he said earnestly, at the close of -the interview, 'to assure Monseigneur le Duc d'Anjou -that I would give ten years of my life—and I have not -many left to give—to undo the mischief wrought by a few -young nincompoops. I can but hope that His Highness -will exonerate me from any negligence or want of -understanding in the matter.' -</p> - -<p> -By this time Gilles was mentally quite at his ease. If -his thigh was painful, he had nevertheless managed to -walk into Monseigneur's presence without a limp, and to -all appearances his host was at this hour very far from -suspecting the slightest fraud. -</p> - -<p> -'His Highness,' he said lightly, 'will recover from his -scratches within the next day or two. The whole matter -is unworthy of Monseigneur's anxiety.' -</p> - -<p> -After which assurance, and mutual protestations of -esteem and good-will, Gilles was allowed to take his leave. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -III -</h4> - -<p> -Being a personage of no consequence, Messire Gilles de -Crohin, equerry to Monseigneur le Prince de Froidmont, -was not escorted to the gates by an army of ushers; rather -was he allowed to find his way out as best he could. The -interview with Monseigneur had taken place in a room on -a floor above, and he was walking slowly along one of the -wide corridors which, if memory served him, would lead -him to the grand staircase. On his right the tall, -deep-embrasured windows gave on the magnificent park which, -with its stately trees still dressed in winter garb, lay bathed -in the sunlight of this early spring day. -</p> - -<p> -He paused just for a moment, looking over the park at -the rich panorama of the city. The window nearest to -him was slightly open, and the south-westerly breeze was -apparently stirring the heavy curtains in front of it. From -somewhere close by there came gently wafted the delicious -penetrating fragrance of lilies. Was it a wonder that -Gilles' thoughts should at once have flown to Jacqueline? and -that an uncontrollable ache should suddenly grip his -heart? -</p> - -<p> -Throughout his long adventurous life he had seen so many -women—had kissed a few, and loved none; and now Fate -had placed in his path just the one woman in the whole -wide world whom at first sight he had loved with unbounded -passion, and who was as far removed from him as was the -gold-crowned steeple of St. Géry far away, and infinitely -more unattainable. For the first time in his life Gilles -had looked into a woman's eyes, felt that they held in their -depths a promise of paradise, only to realize that that -promise could never be made to him. -</p> - -<p> -The scent of the lilies brought with it a murmur of spring, -of awakening nature, of twitter of birds, and the man who -listened to that murmur, who thrilled at its insistent call, -knew that he must for ever remain lonely, that the call of -springtide for him must for ever remain unsatisfied. -</p> - -<p> -Standing there alone, he was not ashamed of his emotion, -not ashamed that hot tears welled up involuntarily to his -eyes. But with a half-impatient gesture and a smile at -his own folly, he brushed these with his hand resolutely -away. -</p> - -<p> -When the mist of tears was cleared from his eyes, he -suddenly saw her—his dream—standing before him. She -was in the window embrasure, with the flood of sunshine -wrapping her like a mantle of gold. On the window sill -beside her lay a bunch of white lilies. Her little -hand—Gilles thought he had never seen such an exquisite little -hand—held back the curtain, behind which she had apparently -been sitting. A soft breeze blew in through the half-open -window and stirred with its delicate breath the soft -tendrils of her ardent hair. Her face against the light was -in a tender, grey shadow, through which her eyes shone -like a peep of azure sky, and on her cheek that tiny mole -was provocatively asking for a kiss. -</p> - -<p> -The apparition had come upon Gilles so suddenly, the -transition from dark melancholy to joy was so abrupt, -that he—poor man!—weak, sick, unnerved by weariness -and constant strain, not only found nothing to say, but -he clean forgot all the amenities of social life which the -equerry of a prince of the House of Valois should have had -at his finger-tips. -</p> - -<p> -Jacqueline, too, strangely enough, felt embarrassed for -the moment, angry with herself for being tongue-tied. -What was there to be confused about? Messire Gilles de -Crohin could not possibly guess that she had been sitting -here in the window embrasure, waiting to see him pass, -just because she desired to have news of his master. He -could not guess that it had taken all her reserves of diplomacy -to so explain to Monseigneur when he questioned her, what -she knew of the events of the past night that, without -being greatly angered against M. de Landas, he should -feel sufficient compunction to send promptly for news of -Messire le Prince de Froidmont. Certainly Messire's -equerry could not guess that Madame Jacqueline's heart -had been touched and her mind tickled when Monseigneur -placed before her the naïve effusion of Maître Jehan, and -that her own common sense and unerring feeling for justice -had filled in the gaps which the worthy servant's missive -had left in his exposé of what had actually occurred. -</p> - -<p> -Therefore it was not the fear of what Messire de Crohin -might think or guess that kept Jacqueline momentarily -speechless and shy, rather was it a curious and undefinable -sense of something strange—familiar yet mysterious—about -the personality of this man who stood, equally silent, -before her. It took her several seconds to free herself -from this spell which appeared to have been cast over -her, several seconds of fighting angrily with herself for -the constraint which rendered her tongue-tied and shy. -Fortunately he appeared quite unaware of her embarrassment, -waited somewhat awkwardly, she thought, for her -to speak. -</p> - -<p> -'You are Messire de Crohin?' she contrived to say at -last. -</p> - -<p> -'At your service, Madame,' he replied. -</p> - -<p> -'Equerry to Monseigneur le Prince de Froidmont?' -</p> - -<p> -He bowed in affirmative response. -</p> - -<p> -'And ... I have no doubt ... devoted to his person?' -</p> - -<p> -He smiled. -</p> - -<p> -'Why should Madame conclude that?' he asked. -</p> - -<p> -She gave a little start. Somehow his tone—that bantering -smile, had accentuated that feeling of familiarity which -rendered his person so strangely mysterious. -</p> - -<p> -'Monseigneur le Prince de Froidmont,' she rejoined coldly, -'is sure to command the devotion of those who serve him. -He is brave and chivalrous——' -</p> - -<p> -'That was not Madame's opinion of him last night——' -he broke in dryly. Then, seeing that his tone had caused -her to turn her eyes on him with unfeigned surprise he -added somewhat lamely: 'At least ... that is ... that -is what Monseigneur gave me to understand last night——' -</p> - -<p> -'It was all a misunderstanding,' she said gently. 'Will -you say that to Monseigneur?' -</p> - -<p> -'If Madame desires.' -</p> - -<p> -'I do desire it. And since you know all about the -incident, Messire, will you, I pray you, tell your master how -deeply I regret the erroneous judgment which I formed -of his conduct? Those abominable varlets all crowding -round him——' -</p> - -<p> -'Appearances were against Monseigneur, no doubt.' -</p> - -<p> -'And I behaved like a vixen, Messire,' she said with a -smile. -</p> - -<p> -'Then give me an army of vixens!' he retorted -impulsively. -</p> - -<p> -'Why, Messire, you were not there to see——' -</p> - -<p> -'No! But I imagine now that vixens must be adorable.' -</p> - -<p> -'Do not jest, Messire,' she rejoined more earnestly. 'I -was shrewish last night and ill-tempered and unjust. Will -you tell your master that this morning——' -</p> - -<p> -'I will tell him, Madame, that this morning you are -perfect, whatever you may have been last night.' -</p> - -<p> -Poor Gilles by now would have given all that he possessed -in the world to be allowed to go. He felt that this interview, -which he had neither sought nor hoped for, was like a -dangerous trap into which Fate and his own temperament -might hurl him headlong. Every minute that he spent -in this woman's company rendered her more desirable to -him, rendered him more completely a slave to her charm. -But for some strange and subtle reason she seemed disinclined -to let him go just yet, and even now when, remembering -his best manners, Gilles started on the preliminaries -of a most elaborate farewell bow, she went on with a quick -catching of her breath and a slight hesitation, which brought -a soft glow to her cheeks: -</p> - -<p> -'Messire Gilles——' -</p> - -<p> -'At your service, Madame.' -</p> - -<p> -'Was Monseigneur de Froidmont very angered with me?' -</p> - -<p> -'He was,' Gilles admitted, 'last night.' -</p> - -<p> -"But ... but....' -</p> - -<p> -'His anger hath since melted like snow in the spring.' -</p> - -<p> -'Even before you came hither at the bidding of my -guardian?' -</p> - -<p> -'Even before that, Madame.' -</p> - -<p> -'Did he tell you so?' -</p> - -<p> -'I guessed it.' -</p> - -<p> -'Do you know his innermost thoughts, then?' -</p> - -<p> -'Most of them—yes, Madame.' -</p> - -<p> -'You are very intimate with Monseigneur le Prince de -Froidmont?' she asked, with a certain shy hesitancy -which Gilles found adorable, because it caused a delicate -flush of pink to suffuse her cheeks. This caused him, in -his turn, to be confused and tongue-tied, staring at her -with eyes that seemed as if they would devour her -loveliness. -</p> - -<p> -She had to repeat her question. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh!—ah!—er!' he stammered vaguely. 'That is—yes! -Yes, Madame! I am on ultimate terms with Monseigneur.' -</p> - -<p> -'And—do tell me, Messire—is Monseigneur handsome?' -</p> - -<p> -'No, by the Lord!' exclaimed Gilles with a loud laugh. -Then he caught her look: it was not one of surprise, -rather of amusement not unmixed with quaint, roguish -mischief. He could not interpret that look rightly, and -began to stammer, worse confused than before. -</p> - -<p> -'Madame—I—that is——' -</p> - -<p> -'You are no judge of your master's looks, shall we say?' -she retorted with an enigmatic little smile. 'But you must -remember that, though I found Monseigneur of noble bearing, -I have no notion how he looks, for I have never seen him -without a mask—that is——' -</p> - -<p> -This time Gilles was quite sure that she was doing her -best to suppress a laugh. -</p> - -<p> -'Do you think,' she said, 'that you could persuade His -Magnificence to pay his respects to me unmasked?' -</p> - -<p> -'Monseigneur will, I feel sure,' he rejoined stiffly, 'be -honoured by the command, but——' -</p> - -<p> -'But what, Messire?' -</p> - -<p> -'He is strangely ill-favoured, Madame.' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh! a woman is the best judge of that. Some of the -ugliest men have proved most attractive.' -</p> - -<p> -'But—but Monseigneur is scarred—badly scarred. He——' -</p> - -<p> -'What matter? There is naught so glorious as scars -on a soldier's face. When I was a child I once saw the Duc -de Guise—le Balafré! With that great cut across his -cheek, he was still the most notable man in a room filled -to overflowing with clever, brave and handsome men!' -</p> - -<p> -'But—but, Madame, Monseigneur is also pock-marked. -Yes, that's it! Pock-marked! An illness contracted in -early childhood—Madame understands?' -</p> - -<p> -'I do,' she replied with a little sigh of sympathy, and -looked with those enchanting blue eyes of hers straight on -poor Gilles. 'I do. It is very sad.' -</p> - -<p> -'Very sad indeed, Madame.' -</p> - -<p> -'Scarred and pock-marked. No wonder Monseigneur -is shy to show his face. But no matter,' she continued -gaily. 'He hath such a lovely voice, and oh! such beautiful -hands! Slender and full of nerve and power! I always -take note of hands, Messire,' she said with well-feigned -ingenuousness. 'They indicate a man's character almost -more than his face. Do you not think, so too?' -</p> - -<p> -'I—Madame—that is——' -</p> - -<p> -Gilles had, quite instinctively, drawn the lace of his -sleeve over his left hand, even while Madame still looked -at him with that tantalizing glance which had the effect -of turning his brain to putty and his knees to pulp. Now -she laughed—that merry, rippling laugh of hers—and I -do verily assure you that the poor man was on the verge -of making a complete fool of himself. Indeed, it were -difficult to say whether or no the next second would have -witnessed his complete surrender to Jacqueline's magic -charm, his total loss of self-control and the complete -downfall of Madame la Reyne de Navarre's cherished plan, for -poor Gilles had lost consciousness of every other feeling -and thought save that of a wild longing to fall on his knees -and to kiss the tiny foot which peeped beneath the hem of -that exquisite woman's gown, a wild longing, too, to hold -out his arms and to fold her to his breast, to kiss her hair, -her eyes, her lips, that tiny mole which had wrought the -whole mischief with his soul. For the moment he forgot -his past life, his present position, the Duc d'Anjou and -Madame la Reyne: he had forgotten that he was a penniless -adventurer, paid to play an unworthy trick upon this -innocent girl, sworn to infamy on pain of greater infamy still! -He had forgotten everything save that she was adorable -and that an altogether new and ardent love had taken -possession of his soul. -</p> - -<p> -Of a truth it is impossible for a prosy chronicler to state -definitely what might have happened then, if Monseigneur -the governor had not chosen that very moment for coming -out of his room and walking down the corridor, at one -end of which Gilles was standing spell-bound before the -living presentment of his dream of long ago. He heard -Monseigneur's heavy footstep, pulled himself vigorously -together, and with an impatient gesture which was habitual -to him, he passed his left hand slowly across his forehead. -</p> - -<p> -When he looked on Jacqueline again she was staring at -him with an expression that appeared almost scared and -wholly bewildered, and with a strange, puzzled frown upon -her smooth forehead. For the space of a second or two it -seemed as if she wanted to say something, then held back -the words. After a slight hesitation, however, she finally -went forward a step or two to meet her guardian, without -looking again on Gilles. -</p> - -<p> -'I was glad,' she said quietly to d'Inchy, 'to have had -an opportunity of seeing Messire de Crohin and of begging -him to offer to Monseigneur le Prince de Froidmont, his -master, my sincere regrets for what occurred last night.' -</p> - -<p> -'Messire has already assured me,' rejoined d'Inchy suavely, -'that Monseigneur harbours no resentment against any of -us. Is that not so, Messire?' -</p> - -<p> -'Indeed it is, Monseigneur,' replied Gilles stiffly. 'Whatever -Monseigneur may have felt last night, I in his name -do assure you that at this hour the incident of last night -hath faded from his memory.' -</p> - -<p> -He bowed now, ready to take his leave. But Jacqueline -was apparently not yet ready to dismiss him. Something -had gravely puzzled her, that was clear; and it was that -something which seemingly made her loth to let him go. -</p> - -<p> -'What, think you, Messire,' she said abruptly, 'caused -Monseigneur to forget his resentment so quickly?' -</p> - -<p> -'A journey, Madame,' he replied, looking her boldly -between the eyes this time, 'which his thoughts took -skywards, astride upon a sunbeam.' -</p> - -<p> -She smiled. -</p> - -<p> -'And did Monseigneur's thoughts wander far on that -perilous journey?' -</p> - -<p> -'As far as the unknown, Madame.' -</p> - -<p> -'The unknown? Where is that?' -</p> - -<p> -'There where we sow our dreams.' -</p> - -<p> -'Where we sow our dreams? You speak in metaphors, -Messire. If, as you say, we sow our dreams, what do we -reap?' -</p> - -<p> -'A perfect being such as you, Madame, can only reap -joy and happiness.' -</p> - -<p> -'But you, Messire?' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, I, Madame!' he replied with a shrug of his broad -shoulders. 'What can a poor soldier of fortune garner -from a crop of dreams save a bunch of memories?' -</p> - -<p> -'Happy memories, I trust,' she said gently, as she finally -extended her dainty hand for his kiss. -</p> - -<p> -'Happiness is such an ephemeral flower, Madame: -memory is its lasting perfume.' -</p> - -<p> -For one brief moment her exquisite little hand, white, -soft and tensely alive, like the petals of a fragrant lily, -lay upon his own: for one brief moment of unalloyed happiness -his lips rested upon her finger-tips, and he felt them -quivering beneath his kiss, as if something of the passion -which was searing his heart had been communicated to -her through that kiss. -</p> - -<p> -The moment went by like a flash: the next, Monsieur -le Baron d'Inchy was already bidding him farewell with -many an unctuous word, which Gilles never even heard. -He had eyes and ears only for Jacqueline—Jacqueline, -whom he had seen and loved at first sight, when she had -been alternately proud and dignified, demure and arch, -reproachful and contemptuous; but before whom he could -now bend the knee in adoration when a softened mood -filled her eyes with tears and caused her perfect lips to -quiver with unexpressed sympathy. -</p> - -<p> -'I entreat you, Messire,' she said finally, 'when you -return to your master, to urge upon him the necessity of -extreme prudence. Strangers are none too welcome in -Cambray these days, and Monseigneur de Froidmont hath -already made many enemies, some of whom are unscrupulous, -others merely hot-headed; but all, alas! dangerous. Guard -him with your life, Messire,' she urged, with a quaint little -catch in her throat. 'And, above all, I pray you to assure -him that Jacqueline de Broyart would give much to undo -the miserable work of the past night.' -</p> - -<p> -She bowed her head in token that he was dismissed at -last, and he—poor wretch!—could not at that moment -have uttered a single word in response, for his throat was -choked and his very sinews ached with the effort to appear -calm and unconcerned before Monseigneur the governor. -</p> - -<p> -So, I fear me, that Gilles de Crohin defied every social -rule laid down by the aforesaid Maître Calviac, and that -Monseigneur the governor was seriously shocked when he -saw a mere equerry taking an unduly hasty leave from -himself and from Madame Jacqueline de Broyart, who was -Duchesse et Princesse de Ramèse, in rank far above any -Sire de Crohin. -</p> - -<p> -Monseigneur d'Inchy gave a quick sigh of impatience. -The comedy invented by the Queen of Navarre was beginning -to tax his powers of endurance heavily. Were it not -for the great issues at stake, he would never have humbled -himself before any man as he had done before a profligate -Valois prince who was not worthy to lick the dust that -stained Madame Jacqueline's velvet shoes. He looked -down with conscious pride on his beautiful ward, more -beautiful at this moment, he thought, than she had ever -looked before. She was gazing straight down the length -of the corridor; her lips were parted in an enigmatic smile -which greatly puzzled her old guardian, a soft blush mantled -over her cheeks and throat, and as she gazed—on nothing -seemingly—her blue eyes shone with a strange, inward -excitement. -</p> - -<p> -And yet, all that there was to see down the corridor was -the retreating figure of that somewhat ill-mannered equerry, -Messire Gilles de Crohin. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap14"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XIV -<br /><br /> -WHICH TREATS OF THE DISCOMFITURE OF M. DE LANDAS -</h3> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -I -</h4> - -<p> -We may take it that M. le Baron d'Inchy, at whose -invitation the Duc d'Anjou had come to Cambray, -was not likely to let the matter of the midnight duel remain -unpunished, the moment he learned the full facts about -the affair. The epistle of Maître Jehan had put him on -the scent, and it must be remembered that M. le Baron -d'Inchy ruled over Cambray and the Cambrésis with the -full autocratic power of a conqueror, and that he had -therefore more than one means at his disposal for forcing the -truth from unwilling witnesses if he had a mind. -</p> - -<p> -That truth, as confessed by the night watchmen, was -nothing short of appalling. Monseigneur the governor's -first thought had been one of ample—not to say, -obsequious—apologies to His Highness for the outrage against his -person. But <i>Monsieur</i> being sick, and etiquette forbidding -Monseigneur the governor's visit to so humble an hostelry -as that of 'Les Trois Rois,' M. d'Inchy had bethought -himself of Messire Gilles de Crohin, the equerry, had sent -for him and begged him to transmit to His Highness all -those excuses which he—the governor—would have wished -to offer in person. Fortunately, the equerry had been able -to assure Monseigneur that His Highness appeared inclined -to look on the affair with leniency. Whereupon d'Inchy -had seen him depart again, feeling still very wrathful but -decidedly easier in his mind. -</p> - -<p> -Then he sent for de Landas. -</p> - -<p> -De Landas was sick of his wounds, feverish and in the -leech's hands; but the order to present himself before the -governor was so peremptory that he dared not refuse. He -knew well that nothing but unbridled anger would cause -Monseigneur to issue such an arbitrary order and that it -would neither be wise nor even safe to run counter to his will. -</p> - -<p> -So de Landas had his wounds re-dressed and bandaged; -he took the cooling draught which the leech had prepared -for him, and then he ordered four of his men to carry him -on a stretcher to the Archiepiscopal Palace. But all this -show of sickness did not have the effect of softening -Monseigneur's mood. He ordered de Landas very curtly to -dismiss his stretcher-bearers, then he motioned him to a -seat, himself sat down behind his desk and fixed searching -eyes upon his young kinsman. -</p> - -<p> -'I have sent for you, José,' he began sternly, 'and for -you alone, rather than for the whole of your gang, because -you have constituted yourself their leader, and they invariably -follow you like so many numskulls, in any mischief -which you might devise.' -</p> - -<p> -'Mon cousin——' stammered de Landas, abashed, despite -himself, by d'Inchy's dictatorial tone. -</p> - -<p> -'One moment,' broke in the latter harshly. 'Let me -tell you at once that explanations and prevarications are -useless. I received a hint of what occurred last night -primarily from an outside source, but you will understand -that a clue once obtained can very easily be followed up. -We questioned your varlets, put the night watchmen to -the torture; they confessed everything, and you, M. le -Marquis de Landas, my kinsman, and half a dozen of your -precious friends, stand convicted of an attempt at assassination -against the person of a stranger, who happens to be -my guest.' -</p> - -<p> -De Landas, feeling himself cornered, made no attempt -to deny. It certainly would have been useless. Unfortunately -he had allowed his jealousy to get the better of his -prudence, and last night had made more than one mistake—such, -for instance, as not killing the watchmen outright -instead of merely overpowering them, and employing his -own men rather than a few paid spadassins, who could not -afterwards have been traced. So he sat on, sullen and -silent, his arm resting on that of the chair, his chin buried -in his hand. -</p> - -<p> -'For that attempted crime,' resumed Monsieur le Baron -d'Inchy, after a slight pause, and speaking in a trenchant -and staccato tone, 'I have decided to expel you and your -five friends out of the city.' -</p> - -<p> -De Landas, forgetting his wounds and his sickness, -jumped to his feet as if he had been cut with a lash. -</p> - -<p> -'Expel me——?' he stammered. He could scarcely -frame the words. He was grey to the lips and had to steady -himself against the table or he would have measured his -length on the floor. -</p> - -<p> -'You and your friends,' reiterated d'Inchy with -uncompromising severity. 'Would you perchance prefer the -block?' -</p> - -<p> -But already de Landas had recovered some of his -assurance. -</p> - -<p> -'This is monstrous!' he exclaimed hotly. 'I, your -kinsman! Herlaer, Maarege—some of your most devoted -friends...!' -</p> - -<p> -'No one is a friend,' retorted d'Inchy firmly, 'who is a -law-breaker and a potential assassin!' -</p> - -<p> -'Monseigneur!' protested de Landas. -</p> - -<p> -'Well! What else were you all last night?' -</p> - -<p> -'We had no intention of killing the rogue.' -</p> - -<p> -'And attacked him, six to one!' -</p> - -<p> -'His impudence deserved chastisement. We only desired -to administer a lesson.' -</p> - -<p> -'In what form, I pray you?' queried d'Inchy with a -short ironical laugh. -</p> - -<p> -'We had some sticks in reserve——" -</p> - -<p> -'Sticks!' thundered d'Inchy, who at the words had -jumped to his feet and in his wrath brought down his -clenched fist with a crash upon the table. 'Sticks!! -You had thought ... you would dare ... to raise your -hands against ... against ... Oh, my God!' he -exclaimed in horror as he sank down once more into his chair -and, resting his elbows on the table, he buried his face in -his hands. Evidently he was quite unnerved. -</p> - -<p> -De Landas had remained silent. Of a truth he had been -struck dumb by this extraordinary show of what amounted -almost to horror on the part of his usually dignified and -self-contained kinsman. It seemed as if he—de Landas—had -said something awful, something stupendous when he -spoke of administering chastisement to a vagabond. A -vagabond indeed! What else was this so-called Prince de -Froidmont? Whence did he come? What was his purpose -in coming to Cambray? And why should Monseigneur -the governor be so completely unnerved at the bare -possibility of any one laying hands on so obscure a personage? -</p> - -<p> -But this was obviously not the moment for demanding -an explanation. De Landas, ere he left his own fatherland -in order to seek fortune in Flanders, had already been well -schooled in those arts of diplomacy and procrastination -for which Spanish statesmen were famous. He scented a -mystery here, which he then and there vowed to himself -that he would fathom; but this was not the time to betray -his own suspicions. He knew well enough that these -wooden-headed Flemings were for ever hatching plots for the -overthrow of their Spanish conquerors, that His Majesty the -King of Spain had hardly one faithful or loyal subject among -these boors, who were for ever prating of their independence -and of their civil and religious liberties. De Landas' quick, -incisive mind had already jumped to the conclusion that, -in this mystery which surrounded the personality of this -enigmatic Prince de Froidmont, there was no doubt the -beginnings of one of those subtle intrigues, which had already -filched from the kingdom of Spain more than one of her -fair Flemish provinces. But the young man had up to -now been too indolent and too self-indulgent to trouble -himself much about the dangers which threatened his -country through the brewing of these intrigues. He was of a -truth ready to find fortune in Flanders and to marry the -richest heiress in the land if he could, and then to remain -loyal to the country of his adoption if it continued to suit -his purpose so to do; but if, as he began now vaguely to -fear, his plans with regard to Jacqueline were thwarted -for the sake of some unknown suitor, however highly placed, -if the golden apple which he had hoped to gather in this -mist-laden land turned to dead-sea fruit in his hand, then -he would no longer consider himself bound by allegiance -to this alien country; rather would his loyalty to King -Philip of Spain demand that he should combat every -machination which these abominable Flemings might set afoot, -for the overthrow of Spanish power. -</p> - -<p> -But all this was for the future. De Landas was astute -enough not to betray a single one of his thoughts at the -moment—not until he had surveyed the whole situation -in cold blood and discussed it with his friends. For the -nonce, conciliation was the only possible—the only -prudent—course of action, and humility and resignation the only -paths thereto. -</p> - -<p> -So he waited a minute or two until d'Inchy had mastered -his extraordinary emotion. Then he said meekly: -</p> - -<p> -'Monseigneur, you see me utterly confounded by your -anger. On my honour, I and my friends sinned entirely -in ignorance. We thought the stranger presumptuous in -the presence of Madame Jacqueline de Broyart, who in -our sight is almost a divinity. We desired to teach a -malapert a lesson for daring to approach the greatest lady in -Flanders otherwise than on bended knees. We had no -thought,' he added insidiously, 'that in so doing we might -be attacking a personage whom Monseigneur desires to -hold in especial honour.' -</p> - -<p> -'Even if the stranger was a person of no consequence,' -rejoined d'Inchy more calmly, 'your conduct was -outrageous——' -</p> - -<p> -'As it is, I am humbled in the dust at thought that it -put a spoke in the wheel of some deep-laid political plans.' -</p> - -<p> -'I did not say that——' broke in d'Inchy quickly. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, Monseigneur!' protested de Landas gently, 'you -deign to belittle mine intelligence. I may be a young -jackanapes, but I am not such a crass fool as not to realize that -the person whom I only thought to chastise, as I might -some insignificant groundling, must be a gentleman of more -than ordinary consequence, else you would not punish me -so severely for so venial an offence.' -</p> - -<p> -'It is my duty——' -</p> - -<p> -'To expel six noble gentlemen from their homes for -laying hands on an unknown adventurer? Fie, Monseigneur! -Your estimate of my reasoning powers must of -a truth be a very low one.' -</p> - -<p> -'You have gravely erred against the laws of hospitality.' -</p> - -<p> -'I am prepared to lick the dust in my abasement.' -</p> - -<p> -'You have offended a stranger who was my guest.' -</p> - -<p> -'I will offer him my abject excuses, tell him that I -mistook him for a caitiff.' -</p> - -<p> -'He would not accept your excuses.' -</p> - -<p> -'Is he such a high and mighty prince as all that?' -retorted de Landas. -</p> - -<p> -It was an arrow shot into the air, but it evidently hit -the mark, for d'Inchy had winced at the taunt. -</p> - -<p> -'M. le Prince de Froidmont has been too gravely affronted,' -he said stiffly, 'for excuses to be of any avail.' -</p> - -<p> -'Let me try them, at any rate,' riposted de Landas, -almost servilely now. -</p> - -<p> -'I don't know—I——' -</p> - -<p> -'Ah! but Monseigneur, I entreat you, listen. I am your -friend, your kinsman, have served this land faithfully, -devotedly, for years! I have no wish to pry into your -secrets, to learn anything of which you desire to keep me -in ignorance. But think—think!! Others would not be -so scrupulous as I. Gossip flies about very quickly in this -city, and rumours would soon take wider flight, if it became -known that you had punished with such unyielding rigour -six of your best friends, one of them your own kinsman, -for daring to quarrel with a masked stranger whom nobody -knows, and who has entered this city in the strictest -incognito. People will deduce unpleasant conclusions: some -will call the stranger a Spanish spy, and you, Monseigneur, -a paid agent of Spain. At best, rumour will be busy with -speculations and conjectures which will jeopardize all your -plans. In pleading for mercy, Monseigneur,' urged de -Landas with well-feigned ingenuous enthusiasm, ''tis not so -much mine own cause that I advocate, but rather that of -your own peace of mind and the fulfilment of all your secret -desires.' -</p> - -<p> -D'Inchy made no immediate reply. No doubt the Spaniard's -specious arguments had struck him as sound. He -knew well enough how difficult it was, these days, to keep -tongues from wagging, and until the affair with <i>Monsieur</i> -Duc d'Anjou, was irrevocably concluded, gossip would -prove a deadly danger, not only to the plans which he and -de Lalain had laid so carefully, but also to themselves and -to their adherents. This knowledge caused him to weaken -in his attitude toward de Landas. He sat there, frowning, -silent, obviously hesitating already. -</p> - -<p> -We must always remember also that the Flemings—whether -lords or churls—had never been able to hold their -own against Spanish diplomacy and Spanish cunning. -Their mind was too straightforward, too simple, yes! too -childish, to understand the tortuous subtleties practised -by these past masters of mental craftiness. -</p> - -<p> -D'Inchy, de Lalain, de Montigny and their friends had -plunged up to the neck in a sea of intrigue. They were -already floundering, out of their depth. D'Inchy, ingenuous -and inherently truthful, had never suspected de Landas -of duplicity—had, of a truth, never had cause to suspect -him—therefore now he took the young Spaniard's protestations, -his meekness, his well-timed warning, entirely at their -face value. De Landas was looking him straight in the face -while he spoke, and d'Inchy was duly impressed by the -air of straightforwardness, of youthful enthusiasm, -wherewith the young man punctuated his impassioned tirade; -and the latter, quick to note every change in the Fleming's -stern features, pursued his advantage, pressed home his -pleadings, half certain already of success. -</p> - -<p> -'Let me go forthwith, Monseigneur,' he begged, 'to offer -my humble apologies to—to—Monsieur—er—le Prince de -Froidmont. Though you may think that we tried to murder -him last night, we crossed swords with him like loyal -gentlemen. I and my friends will meekly admit our errors. He -is too chivalrous, believe me, not to forgive.' -</p> - -<p> -Obviously d'Inchy was yielding. Perhaps he had never -been very determined on punishing those young coxcombs, -had been chiefly angered because he feared that in his wrath -<i>Monsieur</i> Duc d'Anjou, might incontinently shake the dust -of inhospitable Cambray from off his velvet shoes. Above -all things, d'Inchy dreaded gossip about the affair, and de -Landas had indeed proved himself a master in the art of -self-defence when he prophesied the birth of countless -rumours if wholesale expulsions and punishments followed -the midnight brawl. -</p> - -<p> -'Have I your permission to go, Monseigneur?' insisted -de Landas. 'Sick as I am, I can yet crawl as far as the -hostelry where lodges the enigmatic Prince de Froidmont.' -</p> - -<p> -Again d'Inchy winced. He felt his secret escaping from -the safe haven of his own keeping. He sat on in silence, -meditating for awhile. After all, <i>Monsieur's</i> equerry had -assured him that His Highness was disposed to look leniently -on the episode, and who could be more royalist then the -King? more Catholic than the Pope? Gradually the -tensity of his attitude relaxed, the dark frown disappeared -from between his brows; he still looked sternly on his -young kinsman, but the latter saw that the look was no -longer menacing. -</p> - -<p> -A few minutes later Monseigneur d'Inchy had spoken -the word which caused de Landas to give a deep sigh of -relief. -</p> - -<p> -'Very well!' he said. 'You may try. But understand,' -he added inflexibly. 'If Monsieur—I mean, if M. le -Prince de Froidmont does not accept your apology, if -he demands your punishment, you leave Cambray to-night.' -</p> - -<p> -'I understand, Monseigneur,' said de Landas simply. -</p> - -<p> -'And if the Prince does accept your apology, and I do -condone your offence this time, your punishment will be -all the more severe if you transgress again. It would not -be a sentence of expulsion then, but one of death. Now -you may go!' he concluded curtly. 'My leniency in the -future will depend upon your conduct.' -</p> - -<p> -After which, he dismissed de Landas with a stiff inclination -of the head, and the young Spaniard left the presence -of the autocratic governor of Cambray with rage in his -heart and a veritable whirlpool of conjectures, of surmises -and of intrigues seething in his fertile brain. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -II -</h4> - -<p> -But right through the wild medley of hypotheses which -ran riot in de Landas' mind there raged also furious, unbridled -wrath—wrath at his own humiliation, his own impotence—hatred -against the man who had brought him to this pass, -and mad, ungovernable jealousy whenever his thoughts -turned to Jacqueline. -</p> - -<p> -Somehow—it was only instinct, no doubt—he felt that -all this pother about the masked stranger centred round -the personality of Jacqueline. The first hint which -Monseigneur had of last night's affray must of necessity have -come from Jacqueline. She alone was there—varlets and -wenches did not count—she alone could have a personal -interest in putting Monseigneur on the scent. -</p> - -<p> -A personal interest? De Landas' frown became dark -and savage when first that possibility rose before his mind. -He had ordered his servants, very curtly, to go and wait -for him in the main entrance hall, for after his interview -with the governor he felt the want of being alone for a few -moments, to think over the situation as it so gravely affected -him. He was in the same corridor where a couple of hours -ago Jacqueline had waylaid and spoken with Messire Gilles -de Crohin. On his right was the row of tall windows with -their deep embrasures, which gave view upon the park. -De Landas felt sick and fatigued, as much from choler and -nerve-strain as from the effect of his wounds, and he sat -down on one of the wide window-seats to think matters -over. -</p> - -<p> -A personal interest? -</p> - -<p> -Yes! That was it. Jacqueline, capricious, hot-headed, -impulsive, had been attracted by the mysterious personality -of the stranger, and for the moment was forgetting the -lover of her youth, the man who felt that he had an -inalienable claim upon her allegiance. De Landas had heard -rumours of a masked minstrel having serenaded Madame -beneath her windows. Pierre, his own henchman, had -received a broad hint to that effect from Nicolle, who was -Madame's waiting-woman. Was it possible that the masked -troubadour and the enigmatic Prince de Froidmont were -one and the same person? and was it likely that Jacqueline's -romantic fancy had been captured by his wiles? -</p> - -<p> -A wild, unreasoning rage gripped at de Landas' heart -at the thought: sheer physical pain caused him to groan -aloud. He felt stifled and giddy, and with a rough, -impatient gesture, he threw open the casement-window and -leaned out, in order to inhale the pure, fresh air which rose -from the park. As he did so, he caught sight of Jacqueline, -who was wandering in and among the bosquets, attended -only by one of her maids. She was dressed in a dark gown -and had a hood over her head, but even thus garbed she -looked adorable, and de Landas muttered an angry oath -as he looked down on her, watching her sedate movements, -the queenly walk, that quaint air of demureness and dignity -which became her so well. He suddenly realized all that -the past few days—nay! weeks—had meant in the shaping -of his destiny. Monseigneur the governor's stern decree -had already placed her out of his reach; she was slipping -away from him, dragged from his side by her accession to -wealth and power, by the political intrigues which centred -around her—aye! and she was also slipping away from -him through the gradual cooling of her attachment for him; -that fact he could no longer disguise from himself. He had -succeeded in winning her, when she was so young and so -inexperienced that she fell readily enough—almost -unconsciously—into his arms. He had ensnared her like the skilful -fowler succeeds in trapping a fledgling unawares. Since -then, so many things had changed. Jacqueline, from an -obscure little country wench—almost the handmaid of an -adulated brother—had become one of the most important -personages in the land. She was fêted, courted, admired, -on every side, surrounded by all that was most handsome, -most chivalrous, in Europe. She had not actually turned -from the lover of her girlhood—no! even de Landas was -forced to admit that—but she had learned to appraise him -in the same crucible as other men; and, with teeth set, -and shame and anger gnawing in his heart, de Landas had -to tell himself that she had apparently found him wanting. -Time was when nothing on earth would have turned her -admiration away from him, when, whatever the appearances -might be, she would look up to him as the fount of all -bravery and of all honour. But last night she had only -been gentle and pitying, and a few hours later had led -Monseigneur into investigating the whole affair. -</p> - -<p> -De Landas' fist against the window ledge was clenched -until the knuckles of his slender hand gleamed like ivory. -Had the masked stranger himself aught to do with Jacqueline's -disloyalty? Suddenly the Spaniard felt that at any -cost he must know the truth about that, at any cost he -must wring an avowal from Jacqueline's lips, whether in -her innermost soul she had ever by one single thought been -unfaithful to him. -</p> - -<p> -As fast as his gathering weakness would allow, he hurried -through the interminable corridors of the Palace, until he -found himself down in the hall below, at the foot of the -main staircase, not twenty paces away from the room where -he had endured such bitter humiliation last night. Instinct -drew him to that room, the window of which gave direct -access on to a terraced walk and thence on to the park. -</p> - -<p> -He pushed open the door behind which a few brief hours -ago he and his friends had laid in wait so shamelessly for -their unsuspecting enemy. Almost furtively he stepped -over the threshold and peeped in. He scarce recognized -the place, thought he had mistaken the door; and yet -there were all the landmarks: the desk with its -kidney-shaped top, which had proved such a useful rampart for -the enemy; the chairs which the masked stranger had -brandished like swivels above his head when the cowardly -order was given to the varlets to help in the attack; the -heavy curtain which had been the last, the most formidable -weapon of defence. -</p> - -<p> -All these things had been put back in their respective -places; a fresh piece of matting covered the floor; the -curtain had been hung once more in front of the window—not -a stain, not a mark, not a break testified to the terrible -orgy of bloodshed which had desecrated this noble -apartment last night. -</p> - -<p> -De Landas looked all about him in astonishment. He -stepped further into the room, and even as he did so, a -strong current of air caused the heavy door behind him to -fall to with a bang. As de Landas looked across the room in -order to see what had been the cause of this sudden gust -he saw that the window opposite was open to the ground, -and that Jacqueline had apparently just entered that way -from the terraced walk beyond. -</p> - -<p> -She did not see him just at first, but stood for awhile -intent, as he had been, in noting the appearance of the room. -The window framed her in like a perfect picture, with her -dark gown and her golden hair and soft white skin. The -hood of her cloak had fallen back over her shoulders and -she held her heavy skirt gathered up in her hand. -</p> - -<p> -'Jacqueline!' exclaimed the young man impulsively. -</p> - -<p> -She looked up and saw him, and, quite serenely, stepped -into the room, went forward to greet him with hand -outstretched, her face expressing gentle solicitude. -</p> - -<p> -'Why, José!' she said lightly, 'I had no thought of -seeing you to-day.' -</p> - -<p> -'Which,' he retorted glumly, 'doth not seem to have -greatly troubled you.' -</p> - -<p> -'I knew that you were sick. Surely the leech hath -prescribed absolute rest.' -</p> - -<p> -'I did not think of sickness or of rest,' he rejoined, with -an undercurrent of grim reproach in his tone. 'I only -thought of seeing you.' -</p> - -<p> -'I would have come to you,' she said calmly, 'as soon -as the leech advised.' -</p> - -<p> -'And I could not wait,' he riposted with a sigh. 'That -is all the difference there is, Jacqueline, between your love -and mine.' -</p> - -<p> -Then, as she made no reply, but led him gently, like a -sick child, to a chair, he added sombrely: -</p> - -<p> -'I came to bid you farewell, Jacqueline.' -</p> - -<p> -'Farewell? I don't understand.' -</p> - -<p> -'I am going away.' -</p> - -<p> -'Whither?' -</p> - -<p> -He shrugged his shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -'<i>Chien sabe</i>?' he said. 'What does it matter?' -</p> - -<p> -'You are enigmatical, dear cousin,' she retorted. 'Will -you not explain?' -</p> - -<p> -'The explanation is over simple, alas! Monseigneur the -governor hath expelled me from this city.' -</p> - -<p> -'Expelled you from this city?' she reiterated slowly. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes! for daring to lay hands on His High and Mightiness, -Monseigneur le Prince de Froidmont.' -</p> - -<p> -'José, you are jesting!' -</p> - -<p> -'I was never so serious in all my life.' -</p> - -<p> -'And you are going?' -</p> - -<p> -'To-night.' -</p> - -<p> -'But whither?' she insisted. -</p> - -<p> -'As I said before: <i>Chien sabe</i>?' -</p> - -<p> -He spoke now in a harsh, husky voice. Obviously his -nerves were on edge and he had some difficulty in controlling -himself. He was sitting by the desk and his arm lay across -the top of it, with fist clenched, while his dark eyes searched -the face of the young girl through and through while he -spoke. She was standing a few paces away from him, -looking down on him with a vague, puzzled expression in -her face. -</p> - -<p> -'José,' she said after awhile, 'you are unnerved, -angered, for the moment. You think, no doubt, that I -am to blame for Monseigneur's knowledge of last night's -affair. I swear to you that I am not, that on the other -hand I did all that was humanly possible to keep the -shameful affair a secret from every one.' -</p> - -<p> -'Shameful, Jacqueline?' he protested. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, shameful!' she replied firmly. 'Monseigneur, -it seems, received an inkling of the truth early this -morning—how, I know not. But he sent for the watchmen and -had them examined; then he told me what had occurred.' -</p> - -<p> -'And you believed him?' -</p> - -<p> -'I neither believed nor disbelieved. I was hideously, -painfully puzzled. Now you tell me that my guardian -hath expelled you from this city. He would not have done -that, José, if he had not proof positive of your guilt.' -</p> - -<p> -'Well!' he rejoined with sudden, brusque arrogance. -'I'll not deny it!' -</p> - -<p> -'José!' -</p> - -<p> -'I did waylay a malapert, an impudent rogue, with the -view to administering a sound correction to his egregious -vanity. I do not deny it. I am proud of it! And you, -Jacqueline, should commend me for having done you -service.' -</p> - -<p> -'I cannot commend you for last night's work, José,' -she said earnestly. 'It was cowardly and unchivalrous.' -</p> - -<p> -'Pardieu!' he riposted roughly. 'I am going to be -punished for it severely enough, methinks. Expelled from -this town! Thrown to the tender mercies of the Duke of -Parma and his armies, who will vent on me their resentment -for my loyalty to the Flemish cause!' -</p> - -<p> -'Nay, José! I swear to you that Monseigneur will -relent.' -</p> - -<p> -'Not he!' -</p> - -<p> -'He only meant to frighten you, to cow you perhaps -into submission. He was already angered with you after -the banquet, for attacking Messire le Prince de Froidmont. -He thought your action of the night not only a dishonourable -one, but a direct defiance of his orders.' -</p> - -<p> -'Not he!' quoth de Landas again. Then he added with -a sudden burst of bitter resentment. 'He wants to get -me out of the way—to separate me from you!' -</p> - -<p> -'You must not be surprised, José,' she retorted quietly, -'that after what happened last night, my guardian's -opposition has not undergone a change in your favour. But -have I not sworn that he will relent? I will go to him -now—I shall know what to say ... he so seldom refuses -me anything I ask for.' -</p> - -<p> -'I forbid you to go, Jacqueline!' he interposed quickly, -for already she had turned to go. -</p> - -<p> -'Forbid me? Why? I will not compromise your -dignity; have no fear of that.' -</p> - -<p> -'I forbid you to go!' he reiterated sullenly. -</p> - -<p> -'You are foolish, José! I assure you that I understand -Monseigneur's moods better than any one else in the world. -I know that he is always just as ready to pardon as to punish. -'Tis not much pleading that I shall have to do.' -</p> - -<p> -'You'll not plead for me, Jacqueline.' -</p> - -<p> -'José!' -</p> - -<p> -'You'll not plead. 'Tis not necessary.' -</p> - -<p> -'What do you mean?' -</p> - -<p> -'That I am already pardoned.' -</p> - -<p> -'Already pardoned?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes. I am not expelled from the city.' -</p> - -<p> -'But you told me——' -</p> - -<p> -'It was all a ruse!' -</p> - -<p> -'A ruse?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes!' he cried with a sudden outburst of rage, long -enough held in check. 'Yes! A ruse to find out if you loved -me still!' -</p> - -<p> -Then, as instinctively, at sight of his face, which had -become distorted with fury, she stepped back in order to -avoid closer contact with him, he jumped up from his -chair, and while she continued to retreat, he followed her -step by step, and she watched him, fascinated and appalled -by the look of deathly hatred which gleamed in his eyes. -</p> - -<p> -'A year ago, Jacqueline,' he went on, speaking now -through set teeth, so that his voice came to her like the -hissing of an angry snake; 'a year—nay, a month, a week -ago—if I had told you that I was going away from you, -you would have thrown yourself in my arms in the agony -of your grief; you would have wept torrents of tears and -wrung your hands and yielded your sweet face, your full, -red lips unasked to my caresses. But now——' -</p> - -<p> -He paused. She could retreat no further, for her back -was against the wall. Instinctively she put out her arms -in order to keep him off. But he suddenly seized her with -a fury so fierce that she could have screamed with the pain, -which seemed literally to break her back in two. He held -her close to him, his warm breath scorched her face, his -lips sought her throat, her cheeks, her eyes, with a violence -of passion so intense that for the moment she felt weak and -helpless in his arms. Only for a moment, however. The -next, she had recovered that dignified calm which was so -characteristic of her quaint personality. She made no -resistance, because of a truth she had not the power to shake -herself free from his embrace; but her figure suddenly -became absolutely rigid, and once or twice he met a look -in her eyes which was so laden with contempt, that his -exasperation gave itself vent in a long, impassioned tirade, -wherein he poured forth the full venom of the pent-up -rage, hatred, jealousy which was seething in his heart. -</p> - -<p> -'You! Miserable Flemish cinder-wench!' he cried. -'So you thought that you could toy with the passion of -a Spanish gentleman? You thought that you could use -him and play with him for just as long as it suited your -fancy, and that you could cast him aside like a torn shoe -as soon as some one richer, greater, more important, appeared -upon the scene. Well! let me tell you this, my fine -Madame! That I'll not give you up! I'll not! No! -Though I do not love you, any more than I do any slut -who tosses me a passing kiss. But I'll not give you -up—to that accursed stranger, or to any man; do you hear? -You are mine, and I'll keep you—you and your fortune. -I have reckoned on it and I want it—and I'll have it, if I -have to drag you in the gutter first, or burn this confounded -city about your ears!' -</p> - -<p> -His voice had gradually grown more and more husky, -until the last words came out of his parched throat like -the screech of some wild animal gloating over its prey. -But in his present state of health, the effort and the -excitement proved too great for his endurance. He turned -suddenly dizzy and sick, staggered and would have fallen -headlong at her feet, if she herself had not supported him. -</p> - -<p> -She had remained perfectly still while he poured forth -that hideous torrent of insults and vituperation, which, in -her sight, were akin to the writhings of some venomous -reptile. She could not move or stop her ears from hearing, -because he held her fast. Tall, stately and impassive, -she had stood her ground like some unapproachable goddess -whom the ravings of a raging cur could not in any way -pollute. -</p> - -<p> -Now that he became momentarily helpless, she gave him -the support of her arm and led him quietly back to the -chair. When he was once more seated and in a fair way -of recovering from this semi-swoon, she—still quite -calmly—turned to go. -</p> - -<p> -'You are unnerved, José,' she said coldly, 'and had best -remain here now till I fetch your servants. I could wish -for your sake as well as for mine own that this had been -an everlasting farewell.' -</p> - -<p> -After which she walked quite slowly across the room, -opened the door with a firm hand and went out. A moment -or two later, de Landas could hear her giving instructions -to his servants in a perfectly clear and firm voice. He -leaned back in his chair and gave a harsh laugh of triumph. -</p> - -<p> -'And now, Monseigneur le Prince de Froidmont,' he -murmured under his breath, 'we shall see which of us -will be the conqueror in the life and death struggle which -is to come.' -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap15"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XV -<br /><br /> -HOW M. DE LANDAS PRACTISED THE GENTLE ART OF TREACHERY -</h3> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -I -</h4> - -<p> -The conduct of de Landas—of the one man whom in -her childish way she had at one time loved—had -been a bitter blow to Jacqueline's sensitive heart, also one -to her pride. How she could have been so blind as not -to see his baseness behind his unctuous speech, she could -not imagine. How had she never suspected those languorous -eyes of his of treachery, those full, sensual lips of falsehood? -Now her cheeks still tingled with shame at the remembrance -of those hateful kisses which he had forced on her when -she was helpless, and her whole being quivered with the -humiliation of his insults. He never, never could have -loved her, not even in the past. He was just a fortune-hunter, -goaded to desperation when he saw that her wealth -and her influence were slipping from his grasp. 'Flemish -cinder-wench,' he had called her, not just in a moment of -wild exasperation, but because he had always hated her -and her kin and the fair land of Flanders, which she -worshipped and which all these Spanish grandees so cordially -despised. Jacqueline, whose whole nature—unbeknown -to herself—was just awakening from childhood's trance, -felt that she, too, hated now that arrogant and outwardly -pliant Spaniard, the man who with cajoleries and soft, -servile words had wound his way into her heart and into -the confidence of Monseigneur. She had realized in one -moment, while he was pouring forth that torrent of abuse -and vituperation into her face, that he was an enemy—a -bitter enemy to her and to her country—an enemy all -the more fierce and dangerous that he had kept his hatred -and contempt so well concealed for all these years. -</p> - -<p> -And now her whole mind was set on trying to find a -means to undo the harm which her own weakness and her -own overtrustfulness had helped to bring about. Monseigneur -the governor had not of late shown great cordiality -toward M. de Landas; at the same time, he did not appear -to mistrust him, had not yet perceived the vicious claws -underneath the velvet glove or the serpent's tongue behind -the supple speech. To a sensitive girl, reared in the reserve -and aloofness which characterized the upbringing of women -of high rank in these days, the very thought of confiding -to her guardian the story of de Landas' infamous conduct -towards her was abhorrent in the extreme; but, in spite -of that, she was already determined to put Monseigneur -on his guard, and if mere hints did not produce the desired -effect, she would tell him frankly what had happened, for -Jacqueline's conscience was as sensitive as her heart and -she had no thought of placing her private feelings in direct -conflict with the welfare of her country. -</p> - -<p> -But, strangely enough, when she broached the unpleasant -subject with Monseigneur, she found him unresponsive. -What to her had been a vital turning point in her life did -not appear to him as more than a girlish and undue susceptibility -in the face of an aggrieved lover. He made light of -de Landas' fury, even of the insults which Jacqueline could -hardly bring herself to repeat; and she—wounded to the -quick by the indifference of one who should have been her -protector and if need be her avenger—did not insist, -withdrew into her own shell of aloofness and reserve, merely -begging Monseigneur to spare her the sight of de Landas -in the future. -</p> - -<p> -This Monseigneur cordially promised that he would do. -He meant to keep de Landas at arm's length for the future, -even though he was quite genuine in his belief that Jacqueline -had exaggerated the violence of the Spaniard's outburst -of hatred. In his innermost heart, M. le Baron d'Inchy -was congratulating himself that the young girl had been -so completely, if somewhat rudely, awakened from her -infatuation for de Landas. Matters were shaping themselves -more and more easily with regard to the alliance -which he and his party had so much at heart. <i>Monsieur</i> -showed no sign of desiring to leave Cambray, which plainly -proved that he had not abandoned the project. But for -this, as for all delicate political situations, secrecy was -essential above all things, and Monseigneur had received -a severe shock when de Landas had so boldly suggested -that rumour would soon begin to stir around the mysterious -personality of the masked stranger. -</p> - -<p> -Because of this, too, d'Inchy did not desire to quarrel -just then with de Landas—whose misdemeanour he had -already condoned—and turned a deaf ear to Jacqueline's -grave accusations against her former lover. The next few -days would see the end of the present ticklish situation and -in the meanwhile, fortunately for himself and his schemes, -most of those young hotheads who had taken part in the -midnight drama were more or less sick, and safely out of -the way. -</p> - -<p> -We may take it that M. le Baron d'Inchy heard no further -complaints about the unfortunate affair from his exalted -guest: certain it is that neither M. de Landas nor any of -his friends suffered punishment for that night's dastardly -outrage. Whether they actually offered abject apologies -to Messire le Prince de Froidmont, we do not know; but it -is on record that the latter made no further allusion to the -affair, and that subsequently, whenever he chanced to meet -any of his whilom enemies in the streets, he always greeted -them with unvarying cordiality and courtesy. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -II -</h4> - -<p> -De Landas had in effect burnt his boats. He knew that -sooner or later Jacqueline's resentment would get the better -of her reserve and that his position inside the city would -become untenable, unless indeed he succeeded in winning -by force what he had for ever forfeited as a right—the hand -of Jacqueline de Broyart, and with it the wealth, the power -and influence for which his ambitious soul had thirsted to -the exclusion of every other feeling of chivalry or honour. -</p> - -<p> -He had left her presence and the Archiepiscopal Palace -that afternoon with hatred and rage seething in his heart -and brain, his body in a fever, his mind torn with conflicting -plans, all designed for the undoing of the man whom he -believed to be both his rival and his deadly enemy. An -hour later, Du Pret and Maarege, the only two of his friends -who were able to rise from their bed of sickness in response -to a hasty summons from their acknowledged chief, were -closeted with him in his lodgings in the Rue des Chanoines. -A man dressed in rough clothes, with shaggy hair and black, -unkempt beard, stood before the three gallants, in the centre -of the room, whilst Pierre, M. de Landas' confidential -henchman, stood on guard beside the door. -</p> - -<p> -'Well?' queried de Landas curtly of the man. 'What -have you found out?' -</p> - -<p> -'Very little, Magnificence,' replied the man. 'Messire -le Prince de Froidmont is lying sick at the hostelry of "Les -Trois Rois," and hath not been seen to-day. His equerry -received a messenger in the course of the morning from -Monseigneur the governor and went subsequently to the -Archiepiscopal Palace, where he remained one hour; and -the henchman started at dawn, on horseback, went out of -the city, and hath not since returned.' -</p> - -<p> -'Pardi! we knew all that,' broke in de Landas roughly, -'and do not pay you for such obvious information. If -you have nothing more to say——' -</p> - -<p> -'Pardon, Magnificence; nothing else occurred of any -importance. But I was entrusted with other matter besides -following the movements of Messire le Prince de Froidmont -and his servants.' -</p> - -<p> -'Well! and what did you do?' -</p> - -<p> -'Obeyed orders. The people of Cambray are in a surly -mood to-day. For the first time this morning, food supplies -failed completely to reach the town. Rumours are rife -that the armies of the Duke of Parma are within ten kilometres -of the gates of the city, and that already he proposes -to starve Cambray into capitulation.' -</p> - -<p> -'All that is good—very good!' assented de Landas, -who nodded to his friends. -</p> - -<p> -They too signified their approval of the news. -</p> - -<p> -'It is most fortunate,' said young Maarege, 'that all -this has occurred this morning. It helps our plans -prodigiously.' -</p> - -<p> -'Go on, Sancho,' broke in de Landas impatiently. 'What -did you do in the matter?' -</p> - -<p> -'I and my comrades mixed with the crowd. It was easy -enough to throw in a word here and a word there -... the masked stranger in the city ... a banquet at once -given in his honour, where the last food supplies intended -for the people were consumed by those who would sell -Cambray back to the Spaniards ... Spanish spies lurking -in the city.... Oh! I know how to do that work, -Magnificence!' the man went on with conscious pride. 'You -may rely on me!' -</p> - -<p> -'Parbleu, fellow!' retorted de Landas haughtily. 'I -would not pay thee if I could not.' -</p> - -<p> -'Well! what else?' queried one of the others eagerly. -</p> - -<p> -'As luck would have it, Magnificence,' continued the man, -'one of the strangers—he who is said to be equerry to the -Prince de Froidmont—chanced to be walking down the -street when I was by. I had a small crowd round me -at the time and was holding forth on the subject of Flanders -and her wrongs and the wickedness and tyranny of our -Spanish masters ... I had thrown out a judicious hint -or two about strangers who might be Spanish spies -... Magnificence, you would have been satisfied with the -results! The crowd espied the stranger, hooted him -vigorously, though for the nonce they dared not actually -lay hands on him. But 'tis only a matter of time. The -seeds are sown; within the week, if food becomes more -scarce and dear, you will have the crowd throwing stones -at the stranger! ... I have earned my pay, Magnificence! -Those Flemish dogs are yapping already ... to-morrow -they'll snarl ... and after that...' -</p> - -<p> -'After that, 'tis the Duke of Parma who will bring them -back to heel,' concluded de Landas in a triumphant tone. -'And now, Sancho, I have other work for thee!' -</p> - -<p> -'I am entirely at the commands of His Magnificence,' -the man rejoined obsequiously. -</p> - -<p> -'The seeds here are sown, as thou sayest! Let Sandro -and Alfonzo and the others continue thy work amongst the -loutish crowds of Cambray. Thou'lt start to-night for -Cateau-Cambrésis.' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, Magnificence.' -</p> - -<p> -'The Duke of Parma is there. Thou'lt take a message -from me to him.' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, Magnificence.' -</p> - -<p> -'A verbal message, Sancho; for letters may be stolen -or lost.' -</p> - -<p> -'Not when I carry them, Magnificence.' -</p> - -<p> -'Perhaps not. But a verbal message cannot be lost or -stolen. If it is not transmitted I'll have thee hanged, -Sancho.' -</p> - -<p> -'I know it, Magnificence.' -</p> - -<p> -'Well then, thou'lt seek out His Highness the Duke of -Parma. Tell him all that has occurred in this city—the -arrival of the stranger; the manner in which he stalks -about the town under cover of a mask; the extraordinary -honour wherewith the governor regards him. Dost understand?' -</p> - -<p> -'Perfectly, Magnificence.' -</p> - -<p> -'Then tell the Duke—and this is the most important -part of thy mission—that on any given day which he may -select, I can provoke a riot in this city—a serious riot, -wherein every civil and military authority will be forced -to take a part—and that this will be the opportunity for -which His Highness hath been waiting. While the rioters -inside Cambray will be engaged in throwing stones at one -another, the Duke of Parma need only to strike one blow -and he can enter the city unopposed with his armies, in -the name of our Most Catholic King Philip of Spain.' -</p> - -<p> -He rose from his chair as he did so and crossed himself -devoutly, his friends doing likewise. Though they were -Flemish born—these two young men—they had for some -unavowable reason espoused the cause of their tyrants, -rather than that of their own people. A look of -comprehension had darted from Sancho's eyes as he received these -final instructions from his employer, a look of satisfaction, -too, and of hatred; for Sancho was a pure bred Castilian -and despised and loathed all these Flemings as cordially -as did his betters. Whether he served his own country from -a sense of patriotism or from one of greed, it were impossible -to say. No one had ever found it worth while to probe -the depths of Sancho's soul—-a common man, a churl, a -paid spadassin or suborned spy—he was worth employing, -for he was sharp and unscrupulous; but as to what went -on behind those shifty, deep-set eyes of his and that -perpetually frowning brow, was of a truth no concern of his -noble employers. All that mattered to them was that -Sancho had—in common with most men of his type—an -unavowable past, one which would land him on the cross, -the gibbet or the stake, in the torture-chamber or under -the lash, whenever his duties were ill-performed or his -discretion came to be a matter of doubt. -</p> - -<p> -'If you serve me well in this, Sancho,' resumed de Landas -after a brief while, 'the reward will surpass your -expectations.' -</p> - -<p> -'In this as in all things,' said the man with obsequious -servility, 'I trust in the generosity of your Magnificence.' -</p> - -<p> -'Thou must travel without a safe-conduct, fellow.' -</p> - -<p> -'I am accustomed to doing that, Magnificence.' -</p> - -<p> -'No papers of any kind, no written word must be found -about thy person, if perchance thou fall into Flemish hands -ere thou canst reach His Highness the Duke of Parma's -camp.' -</p> - -<p> -'I quite understand that, Magnificence.' -</p> - -<p> -'Nothing wilt thou carry save the verbal message. And -if as much as a single word of that is spoken to any living -soul save to the Duke of Parma himself, I pledge thee my -word that twenty-four hours later thou shalt be minus thy -tongue, thine ears, thine eyes and thy right hand, and in -that state be dangling on the gibbet at the Pré d'Amour -for the example of any of thy fellows who had thought or -dreamt of treachery.' -</p> - -<p> -While de Landas spoke, Sancho kept his eyes resolutely -fixed upon the ground, and his shaggy black beard hid -every line of his mouth. Nor were de Landas and his -young friends very observant or deeply versed in the science -of psychology, else, no doubt, they would have noticed -that though Sancho's attitude had remained entirely servile, -his rough, bony hand was clutching his cap with a nervy -grip which betrayed a stupendous effort at self-control. -The next moment, however, he raised his eyes once more -and looked his employer squarely and quite respectfully -in the face. -</p> - -<p> -'Your Magnificence need have no fear,' he said. 'I -understand perfectly.' -</p> - -<p> -'Very well,' rejoined de Landas lightly. 'Then just -repeat the message as thou wilt deliver it before His -Highness the Duke of Parma, and then thou canst go.' -</p> - -<p> -Obediently Sancho went through the business required -of him. 'I am to tell His Highness,' he said, 'that on any -day which he may select, Monseigneur le Marquis de Landas -and his friends will provoke a riot within this city—a serious -riot, wherein every civil and military authority will be forced -to take a part—and that this will be the opportunity for -which His Highness hath been waiting. I am to tell him -also that while the rioters inside Cambray will be engaged -in throwing stones at one another, the Duke of Parma -need only to strike one blow and he can enter the city -unopposed, with his armies, in the name of our Most Catholic -King Philip of Spain.' -</p> - -<p> -De Landas gave a short, dry laugh. -</p> - -<p> -'Thou hast a good memory, fellow,' he said: 'or a -wholesome fear of the lash—which is it?' -</p> - -<p> -'A profound respect for Your Magnificence,' replied -Sancho, literally cringing and fawning now before his noble -master, like a dog who has been whipped; 'and the earnest -desire to serve him well in all things.' -</p> - -<p> -'Parbleu!' was de Landas' calm rejoinder. -</p> - -<p> -Two minutes later, Sancho was dismissed. He walked -backwards, his spine almost bent double in the excess of -his abasement; nor did he straighten out his tall, bony -figure till Pierre had finally closed the door after him and -there was the width of an antechamber and a corridor -between him and the possibility of being overheard. Then -he gave a smothered cry, like that of a choking bull; he -threw his cap down upon the floor and stamped upon it; -kicked it with his foot, as if it were the person of an enemy -whom he hated with all the bitterness of his soul. Finally -he turned, and raising his arm, he clenched his fist and -shook it with a gesture of weird and impotent menace in -the direction from whence he had just come, whilst in his -deep-set eyes there glowed a fire of rancour and of fury -which of a truth would have caused those young gallants -to think. Then he picked up his cap and almost ran out -into the street. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -III -</h4> - -<p> -But neither de Landas nor his friends troubled themselves -any further about Sancho once the latter was out of their -sight. They were too intent on their own affairs to give -a thought to the susceptibilities of a down-at-heel outlaw -whom they were paying to do dirty work for them. -</p> - -<p> -'We could not have found a more useful fellow for our -purpose than Sancho,' was de Landas' complacent comment. -</p> - -<p> -'A reliable rascal, certainly,' assented Maarege. 'But -it is not easy to get out of the city without a safe-conduct -these days.' -</p> - -<p> -'Bah! Sancho will manage it.' -</p> - -<p> -'He might get a musket-shot for his pains.' -</p> - -<p> -'That would not matter,' rejoined de Landas with a -cynical laugh, 'so long as his tongue is silenced at the same -time.' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, silenced,' urged one of the others; 'but in that -event our message would not be delivered to the Duke of -Parma.' -</p> - -<p> -'We must risk something.' -</p> - -<p> -'And yet must make sure of the message reaching the -Duke. We want as little delay as possible.' -</p> - -<p> -'If food gets short here our own position will be none -too pleasant. These Flemings seem to think that the -churls have just as much right to eat as their betters.' -</p> - -<p> -'Preposterous, of course,' concluded de Landas. 'But, -as you say, we'll make sure that our message does reach -the Duke as soon as may be. Let Sancho take one chance. -Pierre shall take the other.' -</p> - -<p> -Pierre, motionless beside the door, pricked up his ears -at sound of his own name. -</p> - -<p> -'Here, Pierre!' commanded his master. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, Monseigneur.' -</p> - -<p> -'Thou hast heard my instructions to Sancho.' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, Monseigneur.' -</p> - -<p> -'And couldst repeat the message which I am sending -to His Highness the Duke of Parma?' -</p> - -<p> -'Word for word, Monseigneur.' -</p> - -<p> -'Say it then!' -</p> - -<p> -Pierre repeated the message, just as Sancho had done, -fluently and without a mistake. -</p> - -<p> -'Very well, then,' said de Landas; 'thine instructions -are the same as those which I gave to Sancho. Understand?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, Monseigneur.' -</p> - -<p> -'Thou'lt leave the city to-night.' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, Monseigneur.' -</p> - -<p> -'Without a safe-conduct.' -</p> - -<p> -'I can slip through the gates. I have done it before.' -</p> - -<p> -'Very good. Then thou'lt go to Cateau-Cambrésis and -present thyself before His Highness. If Sancho has -forestalled thee, thy mission ends there. If, however, there has -been a hitch and Sancho has not put in an appearance, -thou'lt deliver the message and bring me back His -Highness' answer.' -</p> - -<p> -'I quite understand, Monseigneur.' -</p> - -<p> -Thus it was that M. le Marquis de Landas made sure -that his treacherous and infamous message reached the -Generalissimo of the Spanish armies. To himself and to -his conscience he reconciled that infamy by many specious -arguments, foremost among these being that Jacqueline -had played him false. Well! he had still a few days before -him wherein to study two parts, one or the other of which -he would have to play on the day when Alexander Farnese, -Duke of Parma, demanded the surrender of the city of -Cambray in the name of His Majesty King Philip of Spain. -The one rôle would consist in a magnificent show of loyalty -to the country of his adoption, the rallying of the garrison -troops under the Flemish flag and his own leadership; -the deliverance of Cambray from the Spanish yoke and -the overthrow of the Duke of Parma and his magnificent -army. The other rôle, equally easy for this subtle traitor -to play, meant handing over Cambray and its inhabitants -to the tender mercies of the Spanish general, in the hope -of earning a rich reward for services rendered to His Majesty -the King of Spain. The first course of action would depend -on whether Jacqueline would return to his arms, humbled -and repentant: the second on whether the masked stranger -was indeed the personage whom he—de Landas—more -than suspected him of being, namely, <i>Monsieur</i> Duc d'Anjou -et d'Alençon, own brother to the King of France, come to -snatch the Sovereignty of the Netherlands, together with -their richest heiress, from the arms of her former lover. -</p> - -<p> -Well! whichever way matters went, de Landas stood -to win a fair guerdon. He even found it in his heart to be -grateful to that mysterious stranger who had so unexpectedly -come across his path. But now he was tired and -overwrought. His work for the day was done and there was -much strenuous business ahead of him. So he took leave -of his friends and, having ordered the leech to administer -to him a soothing draught, he finally sought rest. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap16"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XVI -<br /><br /> -WHAT NEWS MAÎTRE JEHAN BROUGHT BACK WITH HIM -</h3> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -I -</h4> - -<p> -How Gilles spent the next two or three weeks he could -never afterwards tell you. They were a long-drawn-out -agony of body and of mind: of body, because the -enforced inactivity was positive torture to such a man of -action as he was; of mind, because the problem of life had -become so complicated, its riddle so unanswerable, that day -after day and night after night Gilles would pace up and -down his narrow room in the Rue aux Juifs, his heart torn -with misery and shame and remorse. The image of -Jacqueline, so young, so womanly, so unsuspecting, haunted -him with its sweet, insistent charm, until he would stretch -out his arms toward that radiant vision in passionate -longing and call to her aloud to go and leave him, alone with -his misery. -</p> - -<p> -He felt that, mayhap under simpler circumstances—she -being a great lady, a rich heiress, and he an humble soldier -of fortune—he could have torn her image from his heart, -since obviously she could never become his, and he could -have endured the desolation, the anguish, which after -such a sacrifice would have left him finally, bruised and -wearied, an old and broken man. But what lay before him -now was, of a truth, beyond the power of human sufferance. -A great, an overwhelming love had risen in his heart almost -at first sight of an exquisite woman: and he was pledged -by all that he held most sacred and most dear to play an -unworthy part towards her, to deceive her, to lie to her, -and finally to deliver her body and soul to that degenerate -Valois Prince whom he knew to be a liar and a libertine, -who would toy with her affections, sneer at her sensibilities -and leave her, mayhap, one day, broken-hearted and -broken-spirited, to end her days in desolation and misery. -</p> - -<p> -And it was when the prospect of such a future confronted -Gilles de Crohin in his loneliness that he felt ready to dash -his head against the wall, to end all this misery, this -incertitude, this struggle with the unsolvable problem which stood -before him. He longed to flee out of this city, wherein -she dwelt, out of the land which gave her birth, out of life, -which had become so immeasurably difficult. -</p> - -<p> -Maître Julien tended him with unwearying care and -devotion, but he too watched with burning impatience -for the return of Maître Jehan. There was little that the -worthy soul did not guess just at this time. It had not -been very difficult to put two and two together with the -help of the threads which his Liege Lady had deigned to -place in his hands. But Julien was too discreet to speak; -he could only show his sympathy for a grief which he was -well able to comprehend by showering kindness and attention -on Messire, feeling all the while that he was thereby -rendering service to his divinity. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -II -</h4> - -<p> -Despite his horror of inaction, Gilles seldom went out -during that time save at nightfall, and he had been content -to let Monseigneur the governor know that he was still -sick of his wounds. Indeed, those wounds inflicted upon -him that night by a crowd of young jackanapes had been -a blessing in disguise for him. They had proved a valid -excuse for putting off the final day of decision which -Monseigneur d'Inchy and his adherents had originally fixed -a fortnight hence. That fortnight had long since gone by, -and Gilles knew well enough that the Flemish lords were -waxing impatient. -</p> - -<p> -They were urging him earnestly for a decision. The -pressure of the Duke of Parma's blockade upon the city -was beginning to make itself felt. All access to the French -frontier was now closed and it was only from the agricultural -districts of the province itself that food supplies could be -got into the town; and those districts themselves were -overrun with Spanish soldiery, who pillaged and burned, -stole and requisitioned, everything that they could lay hands -on. The city of Cambray was in open revolt against her -Sovereign Lord, the King of Spain, and the Duke of Parma -had demanded an unconditional surrender, under such -pains and penalties as would deliver the whole population -to the tender mercies of a conqueror whose final word was -always bloodshed and destruction. -</p> - -<p> -A stout garrison, enthusiastic and determined, was in -defence of the city, and there was no thought at present -of capitulation in the valiant hearts of these Flemings, the -comrades and equals of those who had perished in their -hundreds in other cities and provinces of the Netherlands, -whilst upholding their ancient rights and privileges against -the greatest military organization of the epoch. There -had been no thought of surrender, even though food was -getting scarce and dear. Wheat and fresh meat had already -become almost prohibitive for all save the rich; clothing -and leather was unobtainable. The Duke of Parma was -awaiting further troops yet, wherewith he proposed to invest -the city from every side and to cut her population off from -every possible source of supply. -</p> - -<p> -This was the inexorable fact which M. le Baron d'Inchy -placed before Gilles de Crohin when the latter presented -himself one day at the Archiepiscopal Palace in his rôle as -equerry to <i>Monsieur</i>. -</p> - -<p> -'His Highness must see for himself,' d'Inchy said firmly, -'how impossible it is for us to wait indefinitely on his good -pleasure. No one can regret more than I do the unfortunate -circumstances which have brought His Highness down to -a bed of sickness; and because of those circumstances—in -which, alas! I, as Monseigneur's host, had an innocent -share—I have been both considerate and long-suffering -in not trying to brusque His Highness in his decision. -But Parma is almost at our gates, and Orange is leading -his own army from victory to victory. We gave in to -Monseigneur's caprice when matters did not appear so urgent -as they are now; time has come when further indecision -becomes a rebuff.' -</p> - -<p> -To these very just reproaches Gilles had no other answer -save silence. Ill-versed as he was in the art of diplomacy, -he did not know how to fence with words, how to parry -this direct attack and to slip out of the impasse in which -he was being cornered. -</p> - -<p> -Jehan had been gone a fortnight, and still there was no -answer from the Queen of Navarre! -</p> - -<p> -'Monseigneur hath a delicate constitution,' he said -somewhat lamely after awhile. 'He suffers grievously -from his wounds and hath been delirious. It were -unwarrantable cruelty to force a decision on him now.' -</p> - -<p> -'So do our people suffer grievously,' retorted d'Inchy -roughly. 'They suffer already from lack of food and the -terror of Parma's armies. And,' he added with a touch of -grim irony, 'as to His Highness' delicate constitution, -meseems that if a man can hold six young gallants for half -an hour at the sword's point, he hath little cause to quarrel -with the constitution wherewith Nature hath endowed him.' -</p> - -<p> -'Even the strongest man can be prostrated by fever.' -</p> - -<p> -'Possibly. But there is no longer any time for procrastination, -and unless I have His Highness' final answer at the -end of the week, my messenger starts for Utrecht to meet -the Prince of Orange.' -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -III -</h4> - -<p> -When Gilles had taken his leave of Monseigneur the -Governor that afternoon, he felt indeed more perplexed -than he had been before. Until Madame la Reyne's letter -came, he felt that he could not pledge <i>Monsieur's</i> word -irrevocably. When he thought over all the events which -had finally landed him in face of so stupendous a problem -his mind hung with dark foreboding on the Duc d'Anjou's -cynical pronouncement: 'If any engagement is entered -into in my name to which I have not willingly subscribed, -I herewith do swear most solemnly that I would repudiate -the wench at the eleventh hour—aye! at the very foot -of the altar steps!' And Gilles, as he hurried along the -interminable corridors of the Palace, was haunted by the -image of Jacqueline—his flower o' the lily—tossed about -from one ambitious scheme to another, subject to indifference, -to aversion, to insults; unwanted and uncared for -save for the sake of her fortune and the influence which -she brought. It was monstrous! abominable! Gilles -felt a wild desire to strangle some one for this deed of -infamy, since he could not physically come to grips with -Fate. -</p> - -<p> -At the top of the stairs he saw Jacqueline coming towards -him, and, whether it was the effect of his imagination or of -his guilty conscience, certain it was that she seemed moody -and pale. He stood aside while she walked past him; but -though his whole being cried out for a word from her and -his every sense yearned for the sound of her voice and a -glance from her eyes, she did not stop to speak to him, only -gave him a kind and gracious nod as she went by. -</p> - -<p> -And after he had watched her dainty figure till it -disappeared from his view, he took to his heels and ran out -of the Palace and along the streets, like one who is haunted -by torturing ghosts. It seemed to him that malevolent -voices were hooting in his ear, that behind walls or -sheltering doorways, there lurked hidden enemies or avenging -ghosts, who pointed fingers of scorn at him as he ran past. -</p> - -<p> -'There goes the man,' those accusing voices seemed to -say, 'who would deliver an exquisite lily-flower to be crushed -in the rough and thoughtless hands of an avowed profligate! -There goes the man who, in order to attain that end, is -even now living a double life, playing the part of a liar -and a cheat!' -</p> - -<p> -Self-accusation tortured him. He hurried home, conscious -only of a desire to hide himself, to keep clear of <i>her</i> path, -whom he was helping to wrong. He paid no heed to the -real hooting that followed him, to the menacing fists that -were levelled at him from more than one street-corner, -wherever a few idlers had congregated or some poor, wretched -churls, on the fringe of want, had put their heads together -in order to discuss their troubles and their miseries. He -did not notice that men spat in his trail, that women gathered -their children to their skirts when he hurried past, and -murmured under their breath: 'God punish the Spanish spy!' -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -IV -</h4> - -<p> -Twenty days went by ere Jehan returned—twenty days -that were like a cycle of years to the unfortunate watcher -within the city. Maître Jehan arrived during the small -hours of the morning, drenched to the skin, having swum -the river for a matter of a league or more to avoid the -Spanish sentries, and finally, after having skirted the city -walls, had climbed them at a convenient spot under cover -of darkness, being in as great danger from the guard at the -gates as he had been from the enemy outside. He had -then lain for an hour or two, hidden in the Fosse-au-Pouilleul, -the most notorious and most comprehensive abode -of thieves and cut-throats known in any city of Flanders. -But the letter which Madame la Reyne de Navarre had -given him for Messire, with the recommendation not to part -with it to any one else save with his life, was still safe -in its leather sheath inside the pocket of his doublet. -</p> - -<p> -By the time that the first grey streak of dawn had touched -the tall spires of the ancient city with its wand of silver, -the letter was in Gilles de Crohin's hands, and the two -friends were sitting side by side in the narrow room of the -dreary hostelry, whilst Gilles felt as if a load of care had -been lifted from his shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -'Your news, my good Jehan? Your news?' he reiterated -eagerly; 'ere I read this letter.' -</p> - -<p> -But Jehan, by dint of broken words and gestures, -indicated that the letter must be read first. -</p> - -<p> -So, while he partook of the solid breakfast which Maître -Julien had placed before him, Gilles read the letter which -the gracious Queen had sent to him. It ran thus: -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="quote"> -'Highly Honoured Seigneur, -</p> - -<p class="quote"> -'My Faithful and Loyal Friend! -</p> - -<p class="quote"> -'The present is to tell You that all is well with our -schemes. I have seen Monsieur, who already is wearied of -Madame de Marquette, and like a School boy who has been -whipped for disobedience, is at this moment fawning round -my Skirts, ready to do anything that I may command. Was -I not right? I prophesied that this would be so. Thus Your -labours on My behalf have not been in fain. And now I pray -you to carry through the matter to a triumphant conclusion. -In less than three months Monsieur will be Sovereign Lord -of the Netherlands, with the hand of the Flemish Heiress as -a priceless additional guerdon. In the meanwhile, as no -doubt You know already, the Armies of the Duke of Parma -lie between Us and Cambray. Monsieur is busy collecting -together the necessary Forces to do battle against the -Spaniards. He is prepared to enter Cambray in triumph, to -marry the Lady blindfolded, since <i>You</i> say that She is -adorable; in fact He is in the best of moods and consents to -everything which I desire. Meanwhile, Messire de Balagny, -who is Chief of Monsieur's camp, is on his way with full -details of our projects for the final defeat of the Spaniards. -He has a small troop with him, whom he will leave at La -Fère until after he hath spoken with You. I urge You, -Messire, in the meanwhile to entreat M. le Baron d'Inchy -not to surrender the City to the Duke of Parma. I pray You -to assure Him—in Your name as Duc d'Anjou et d'Alençon—that -the whole Might of France, of which Messire de -Balagny's small troop is but the forerunner, is at Your beck -and call; that You will use it in order to free the Netherlands -from the Spanish yoke. Tell him that the next few -months will see the final overthrow of King Philip's domination -in the Netherlands and a prince of the house of France -as their Sovereign Lord. Say anything, promise anything, -Messire! I swear to You that Monsieur is prepared to -redeem <i>any</i> pledge You may enter into in his Name. Then, -when Messire de Balagny arrives in Cambray, You can make -this Your excuse for quitting the City, nominally in order to -place Yourself at the head of Your armies. Messire de -Balagny, who is in My confidence, will then remain, not only -to take command of the Garrison and help with his small -troop to defend the City from within, but also as a guarantee -for Monsieur's good faith. See how splendidly I have thought -everything out, how perfectly events are shaping themselves -for the success of Our schemes! Patience a brief while -longer, Messire! Your time of trial is drawing to an end! -Confess that it hath not been a very severe ordeal and that -You have derived much enjoyment from mystifying some of -those over obtuse Flemings. I count with pleasure and -impatience upon Your arrival in La Fère very shortly, where the -gratitude of a sorely tried Queen will be awaiting You. If -You now help me to carry the affair through to a triumphant -close, I vow that on the day that Monsieur makes his state -entry into Cambray there will be naught that You can ask of -Me and which if in My power to give that I would not -bestow with a joyful heart upon you. -</p> - -<p class="quote"> - 'Until then, I remain, Messire,<br /> - 'Your earnest Well-Wisher,<br /> - 'Marguerlte de Navarre.<br /> -</p> - -<p class="quote"> -'Given in Paris, under My hand and seal this 27th day of -March 1581.' -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<h4> -V -</h4> - -<p> -The letter fell from Messire Gilles' hand unheeded on to -the floor. He was staring straight out before him, a world -of perplexity in his eyes. Maître Jehan tried in vain to -fathom what went on behind his master's lowering brow. -Surely the news which he had brought was of the most -cheering and of the best. The present humiliating position -could not now last very long. Messire de Balagny was on -his way, and within a few days—hours, perhaps—he and -Messire could once more resume those happy, adventurous -times of the past. And yet it seemed as if Messire was not -altogether happy. There was something in his attitude, -in the droop of his listless hands, as if something bright -and hopeful had just slipped out of his grasp—which to -Jehan's mind was manifestly absurd. -</p> - -<p> -So he shrugged his wide shoulders and solemnly picked -up the fallen letter and pressed it back into Messire's hand. -The action roused Gilles from his gloomy meditations. -</p> - -<p> -'Well, my good Jehan!' he said with a grim laugh, -which grated very unpleasantly on faithful Jehan's ears. -'If the rest of your news is as good as that contained in -Madame la Reyne's letter, you and I will presently find -ourselves the two luckiest devils in Flanders.' -</p> - -<p> -Jehan nodded. 'I have n-n-n-no f-f-f-further news,' -he blurted out. 'Messire de B-b-b-b-balagny was at La -F-f-f-fère when I was th-th-there.' -</p> - -<p> -'With a strong troop?' -</p> - -<p> -Jehan nodded dubiously. -</p> - -<p> -'A couple of hundred men?' -</p> - -<p> -'Or s-s-s-s-so,' retorted Jehan. -</p> - -<p> -'But he himself will be within sight of Cambray to-day?' -</p> - -<p> -'A-a-a-at this hour.' -</p> - -<p> -'And inside the city to-morrow?' -</p> - -<p> -Jehan nodded again. -</p> - -<p> -'And Monseigneur le Duc d'Anjou?' -</p> - -<p> -'In P-p-p-p-aris: ready to st-st-st-start.' -</p> - -<p> -'He does not mean to play a double game this time?' -</p> - -<p> -'No-n-n-n-no-no!' came in rapid and vigorous protest -from Maître Jehan. -</p> - -<p> -'Then the sooner I secure his bride for him, the better -it will be for Madame la Reyne's schemes,' concluded Gilles -dryly. Then suddenly he jumped to his feet, gave a deep -sigh, and stretching out his arms with a gesture of -impatience and of longing, he said: 'If we could only vacate -the field without further ado, honest Jehan! and let Fate -do the rest of the dirty work for us!' -</p> - -<p> -His hand as it fell back came in contact with his sword, -which was lying across the table; not the exquisite Toledo -rapier, the gift of a confiding Queen, but his own stout, -useful one, which he had picked up some three years ago -now, after his own had been broken in his hand on the field -of Gembloux. There it lay, the length of its sheath in -shadow; but the slanting rays of the early morning sun -fell full upon the hilt, which was shaped like a cross. With -it in his hand, with that cross-hilt before his eyes, Gilles -de Crohin had sworn by all that he held most sacred and -most dear that he would see this business through and -would not give it up, until Marguerite of Navarre herself -gave him the word. And these were days when the sworn -word was a thing that was sacred above all things on this -earth; and as Gilles himself had said it on that same -memorable occasion, he was not a prince and he could not afford -to toy with his word—it was the only thing he possessed. -Therefore, though more than one historian, notably -Enguerrand de Manuchet, has chosen to cast a slur upon -Gilles de Crohin for his actions, I for one do not see how -he could have acted otherwise and kept his honour intact. -He was pledged to Marguerite de Navarre, had pledged -himself to her with eyes open and full knowledge of the -Duc d'Anjou's character. To have turned back on his -promise, to have broken his word to the Queen, would have -been the act of a perjurer and of a coward. He could at -this precise moment have walked out of Cambray, that we -know. The Duke of Parma's armies at the time that -Balagny succeeded in reaching Cambray only occupied -that portion of the Cambrésis which adjoined the French -frontier. On the West the way lay open, and the whole -world on that side was free to the soldier of fortune, even -though he would have been forced, after such a course of -action, to shake the dust of France for ever from his feet. -</p> - -<p> -But he chose to remain. He chose to continue the -deception which had been imposed upon him, even though it -involved the happiness of the woman he loved, even though -it meant not only to relinquish her to another man, but -to a man who was wholly unworthy of her. -</p> - -<p> -Far be it from the writer of this veracious chronicle to -excuse Gilles de Crohin in what he did. I do not wish to -palliate, only to explain. Far be it from me, I say, to run -counter to Messire de Manuchet's learned opinion. But -the history of individuals as well as that of nations has a -trick of seeming more clear and more proportionate when -it is viewed through the glasses of centuries, and it is just -possible—I say it in all humility—that Messire de -Manuchet, who in addition to being a very capable historian -was also a firm adherent of the policy of a French alliance -for the sorely stricken Netherlands, felt aggrieved that -Madame Jacqueline de Broyart, the fairest heiress in -Flanders, did not after all wed <i>Monsieur</i> Duc d'Alençon et -d'Anjou, own brother to the King of France, and did not -thereby consolidate that volatile Prince's hold upon the -United Provinces, and that the learned historian hath vented -his disappointment in consequence on the man who ultimately -failed to bring that alliance about. -</p> - -<p> -That, of course, is only a surmise. Messire de Manuchet's -history of that stirring episode was writ three hundred years -ago: he may have been personally acquainted with the -chief actors in the palpitating drama—with d'Inchy and -Jacqueline de Broyart, with Gilles de Crohin and the -Marquis de Landas; even with the Queen of Navarre and -<i>Monsieur</i> Duc d'Anjou. He may also have had his own -peculiar code of honour, which was not the one laid down -by Du Guesclin and Bayard, by Bussy d'Amboise and -Gilles de Crohin, and all the protagonists of chivalry. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap17"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XVII -<br /><br /> -HOW MESSIRE DE LANDAS' TREACHERY BORE FRUIT -</h3> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -I -</h4> - -<p> -It is Messire Enguerrand de Manuchet who tells us that -on the 3rd day of April of this same year of grace 1581, -Messire de Balagny, Maître de Camp to <i>Monsieur</i> Duc d'Anjou -succeeded under cover of darkness in entering the city by -the Landrecy road on the West, which was still—an you -remember—clear of the Spanish investing armies. He came -alone, having left his troop at La Fère, a matter of three -leagues or so. Toward nine o'clock of the morning he made -his way to the hostelry of 'Les Trois Rois,' where we may -take it that Gilles de Crohin was mightily glad to see him. -Messire de Balagny's advent was for the unfortunate -prisoner like a breath of pure air, something coming to him -from that outside world from which he had been shut out -all these weary weeks; something, too, of the atmosphere -of camps and of clean fighting in the open, which for the -moment seemed to dissipate the heavy fumes of political -intrigues, with its attendant deceits and network of lies, -that were so abhorrent to the born soldier. -</p> - -<p> -'I do not envy you your position, my dear friend,' Balagny -said dryly, after he had discussed the whole situation with -Gilles. -</p> - -<p> -'My God!' responded Gilles with almost ludicrous -fervour. 'It has been a positive hell!' -</p> - -<p> -'Although Madame la Reyne de Navarre is very grateful -to you for what you have done; she was only saying to -me, before I left, that there was nothing she would not do -for you in return.' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh!' said Gilles with a careless laugh. 'The gratitude -of a Queen...!!' -</p> - -<p> -'This one is above all a woman,' broke in the older man -earnestly. 'She is a Queen only by the accident of birth.' -</p> - -<p> -'I know, I know,' Gilles went on, somewhat impatiently. -'But for the nonce Her Majesty has conferred the greatest -possible boon upon me by releasing me from my post; -and I, being more than satisfied, will ask nothing better -of her. But what about His Highness?' he added, after -a slight pause. -</p> - -<p> -Balagny shrugged his shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -'He does not mean to play us false?' insisted Gilles. -</p> - -<p> -'<i>Chien sabe</i>?' was the other's enigmatic reply. 'Does -one ever know what François, Duc d'Anjou, may or may -not do?' -</p> - -<p> -'But Madame la Reyne declares——' -</p> - -<p> -'Madame la Reyne is blind where that favoured brother -is concerned. But it is she who, even now, is moving heaven -and earth to recruit the armies for the relief of Cambray—not -he. As you know, brother Henri, King of France, -will not stir a finger to help Monsieur conquer a possible -kingdom, and <i>Monsieur</i> himself sits in his Palace in Paris, -surrounded by women and young sycophants, idling away -his time, wasting his substance, while his devoted sister -wears herself out in his service.' -</p> - -<p> -'Don't I know him!' concluded Gilles with a sigh. Then -after awhile he added more lightly: 'Well, friend, shall we -to the governor? He hath sent me a respectful but -distinctly peremptory request this morning to present myself -in person at the Archiepiscopal Palace.' -</p> - -<p> -'The worthy Fleming is getting restive,' was de Balagny's -dry comment. -</p> - -<p> -'Naturally.' -</p> - -<p> -'He wants to bring matters to a head.' -</p> - -<p> -'To-day, apparently. He hath given me respite after -respite. He will not wait any longer. Matters in this -city are pretty desperate, my friend. And if <i>Monsieur</i> -tarries with his coming much longer...' -</p> - -<p> -De Balagny rose from his chair, and going up to Gilles, -he placed a kindly hand on the younger man's shoulder. -</p> - -<p> -'<i>Monsieur</i> will not tarry much longer,' he said earnestly. -'Madame la Reyne will see to that. Go to the governor, -my good Gilles, and complete the work you have so ably -begun. It was not pleasant work, I'll warrant, and there -is little or no glory attached to it; but when you will have -lived as many years as I have, you will realize that there -is quite a deal of satisfaction to be derived out of inglorious -work, if it be conscientiously done. And after to-day,' he -added gaily, 'you will be free to garner a whole sheaf of -laurels in the service of a grateful Queen and of a dissolute -Prince.' -</p> - -<p> -But Gilles was not in the humour to look on the bright -side of his future career. He was fingering moodily the -letter which Monseigneur the governor had sent him an -hour or so ago. It was obviously intended to be the -forerunner of the final decision which would throw -Jacqueline—beautiful, exquisite Jacqueline of the merry blue eyes -and the rippling laugh—into the arms of that same dissolute -Prince of whom even de Balagny—his trusted Maître -de Camp—spoke with so much bitterness. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="quote"> -'Were I a free agent,' d'Inchy said in his letter, 'I would -not dream of asking Your Highness so signal a favour; but -while Your Highness chooses to hide Your identity under a -mask, and in an humble Abode altogether unworthy of Your -rank, I have no option but to beg You most humbly to grace -My own house with Your presence, in order that We may -arrive at last to an irrevocable decision in the Matter which -lies so closely to My heart. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Indeed the die was cast. Even Messire de Manuchet -admits that Gilles could not do otherwise than present -himself at the Palace in accordance with Monseigneur the -governor's desire. De Balagny certainly did everything to -cheer and encourage him. -</p> - -<p> -'Will you not come with me?' Gilles asked of him, when -he was ready to go. 'I could then present you at once to -d'Inchy, and, please God! be myself out of Cambray ere -the sun has begun to sink low in the West.' -</p> - -<p> -But Balagny shook his head. -</p> - -<p> -'You had best go alone, this once more,' he said firmly. -'Think of the coming interview as an affair of honour, -my dear Gilles, and go to it as you would to a fight, with -a bold front and unquaking heart. You will find it quite -easy to confront the Fleming then.' -</p> - -<p> -Gilles gripped the old man's hand with gratitude. -</p> - -<p> -'You have put new life into me,' he said, with something -of his habitual cheerfulness. 'Another few hours of this -miserable business and I shall be free—free as air!' Then -he added with a bitter sigh, which the other man did not -quite know how to interpret: 'And I shall imagine myself -as almost happy!' -</p> - -<p> -After which, he sallied forth into the street with a firm -and elastic step. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -II -</h4> - -<p> -There are few things in the world quite so mysterious as -the origin and birth of a rumour. It springs—who knows -whence? and in a trice it grows, hurries from mouth to -mouth, gathers crowds together, imposes its presence in -every house, at every street corner, on every open space -where men and women congregate. -</p> - -<p> -Messire de Balagny had only been inside Cambray a -few hours. He had entered the city under cover of -darkness and in secrecy, and even before midday the rumour -was already current in the town that the King of France -was sending an army against the Spaniards, and that his -ambassador had arrived in Cambray in order to apprise -Monseigneur the governor of the happy event. -</p> - -<p> -It was also openly rumoured that the arrival of this same -ambassador of the King of France was not altogether -unconnected with the activities of Spanish spies inside -the city. The people, who were beginning to suffer -grievously from shortage of food and lack of clothing, were -murmuring audibly at the continued presence of strangers -in their midst, who were more than suspected of aiding the -Duke of Parma from within, by provoking riots or giving -away the secrets of the garrison and of the stronghold. -</p> - -<p> -Above all, there had been growing ill-will against the -masked stranger, the mysterious Prince de Froidmont, -whose persistent stay in this beleaguered city had given -rise at first to mere gossip, but latterly to more pronounced -suspicion, plentifully sprinkled with malevolence. The -extraordinary deference which Monseigneur the governor -had been observed to show him on more than one occasion -fostered the growing suspicion that he was a stranger of -great distinction, who for some unavowable reason desired -to preserve an incognito, and chose to dwell in an obscure -hostelry, in order that he might cany on some nefarious -negotiations unchecked. -</p> - -<p> -Crowds are always unreasonable when skilfully handled -in the direction of suspicion and unrest by unscrupulous -agitators, and we know that de Landas' paid hirelings had -been busy for weeks past in fomenting hatred against the -masked stranger, amongst a people rendered sullen and -irritable both by hunger and by the threat of an invading -and always brutal soldiery at their gates. -</p> - -<p> -Certain it is that, the moment that Gilles set foot that -day outside his lodgings in the Rue aux Juifs, he was -followed not only by glances of ill-will, but also by open -insults freely showered after him as he passed. He was -wearing the rich clothes which would have been affected -by <i>Monsieur</i> on such an occasion; his toil-worn hands -were hidden beneath gloves of fine chamois leather and his -face was concealed by a black velvet mask. Looking neither -to right nor left, absorbed in his own thoughts, he hurried -along the street, paying no heed to what went on around -him. It was only when he reached the Place Notre Dame, -in front of the cathedral, and tried in crossing toward the -Archiepiscopal Palace to avoid a group of people who stood -in his way, that he began to perceive something of the -intense hostility which was dogging his every footstep. -</p> - -<p> -'Look at the Spaniard!' a woman shouted shrilly out -of the crowd. 'Wants the place to himself now!' -</p> - -<p> -'Dressed in silks and satins, when worthy folk go half -naked!' called out another, with bitter spite ringing in -her husky voice. -</p> - -<p> -'How much does the King of Spain pay you, my fine -gallant, for delivering the girls of Cambray to his soldiery?' This -from a short, square-shouldered man, only half-dressed -in a ragged doublet and hose, shoeless and capless, who -deliberately stood his ground in front of Gilles, with bare -arms akimbo and bandy legs set wide apart, in an attitude -of unmistakable insolence. -</p> - -<p> -Gilles, with whom patience was at no time a besetting -virtue, uttered an angry exclamation, seized the fellow -incontinently by the shoulder and forced him to execute -a wild pirouette ere he fell back gasping, after this unexpected -attack, against his nearest companions. -</p> - -<p> -This brief incident naturally exasperated the crowd: it -acted as a signal for a fresh outburst of rage and a fresh -volley of insults, which were hurled at the stranger from -every side. -</p> - -<p> -'Miserable Spaniard!' exclaimed one man. 'How dare -you lay a hand on a free burgher of the city?' -</p> - -<p> -'If a free burgher of the city chooses deliberately to insult -me,' retorted Gilles, who, for obvious reasons, was trying -to keep his temper, 'I do what every one of you would -have done under like circumstances—knock the impudent -fellow down.' -</p> - -<p> -'Impudent fellow!' came from a harsh voice at the -rear of the crowd. 'Hark at the noble Spanish Senor! -Flemish burghers are like the dust beneath his feet.' -</p> - -<p> -'I am no Spaniard!' said Gilles loudly. 'And whoever -calls me one again is a liar. So, come out of there,' he -added lightly, 'you who spoke from a safe and convenient -distance; and Fleming, French or Spaniard, we'll soon -see whose is the harder fist.' -</p> - -<p> -'Fight with a masked spy like you?' was the defiant -riposte. 'Not I! The devil, your accomplice, has taught -you some tricks, I'll warrant, against which no simple -Christian could stand.' -</p> - -<p> -'Well said!' shouted one of the women. 'If you are -no Spaniard and no spy, throw down that mask and show -your face like an honest man!' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes! Yes! Throw down the mask!' another in -the crowd assented. 'We know you dress like a fine gallant; -but we want to see how like your face is to the picture -of Beelzebub which hangs in the Town Hall.' -</p> - -<p> -A prolonged shout of ribald laughter, which had no merriment -in it, was the unanimous response to this sally. The -women were already raising their fists: the ever-recurring -insult, 'Spanish spy!' had the effect of whipping up -everybody's temper against the stranger. Gilles was defenceless -save for his sword, which it would obviously have been -highly impolitic to draw against that rabble. Whilst he -parleyed with them, he had succeeded by a deliberate -manoeuvre in drawing considerably nearer to the high wall -of the Archiepiscopal Palace, where the latter abuts on the -cathedral close, and he hoped with some good luck, or a -sudden, well-thought-out ruse, to reach the gates ere the -hostility of the crowd turned to open attack. -</p> - -<p> -That both the men and the women—oh! especially the -women!—meant mischief, there could be no doubt. There -was that gruff murmur going the round, which means -threats muttered between closed teeth; sleeves were being -rolled above brawny or gaunt arms; palms moistened ere -they gripped stick or even knife a little closer. Gilles saw -all these signs with the quick, practised eye of the soldier, -and it was his turn to grind his teeth with rage at his own -impotence to defend himself adequately if it came to blows. -Just for the moment the crowd was still sullen rather than -openly aggressive, and, much as the thought of beating a -retreat went against the grain of Gilles' hot temperament, -there was no doubt that it were by far the wisest course to -pursue. -</p> - -<p> -But there were one or two units in the midst of that gang -who were determined that the flame of enmity against -the stranger should not die for want of fuel. They were -apparently on the fringe of the malcontents, in a safe position -in the rear, and from there they threw out a word now and -again, a sneer or an insult, whenever there appeared the -slightest slackening in the hostile attitude of their friends. -</p> - -<p> -'He wouldn't like to show us his face,' one of this gentry -said now, with a mocking laugh; 'for fear we should see -how bloated he is with good food and wine.' -</p> - -<p> -'Spawn of the devil!' at once screeched a gaunt, hungry-looking -wretch, and ostentatiously tightened his belt around -his middle. 'They all gorge while we starve!' -</p> - -<p> -'And wallow in riches, while honest citizens have to beg -for their daily bread!' -</p> - -<p> -A woman, still young, and who might have been comely -but for the miserable appearance of her unwashed face and -lank, matted hair, pushed her way through the throng right -into the forefront of the men. She dragged a couple of -half-naked children in her wake, who clung weeping to her ragged -skirts. -</p> - -<p> -'Look at these!' she screamed harshly, and thrust a -fist as close to Gilles' face as she dared. 'Look at these -children! You miserable spy! Starving, I tell you! -Starving! While your satin doublet is bursting with Spanish -gold!' -</p> - -<p> -'Aye!' came with renewed vigour from the rear. 'The -price of our sons' lives, of our daughters' honour, are -sacrificed to the tyranny and the debauchery of such as you!' -</p> - -<p> -'Shame! Shame!' came in a dull, ominous murmur -from the rest of the throng. -</p> - -<p> -There was no doubt that tempers were waxing more -and more ugly. In more than one pair of bloodshot eyes -which were glaring at him, Gilles saw the reflection of a -lust which was not far removed from that of murder. It -was no use looking on the matter with indifference; his -life was being threatened, and there were men actually -present among the crowd who were making it their business -to goad this rabble into ever-increasing fury. The latter -were in themselves too obtuse to realize that they were -acting under guidance, that their choler would no longer -be allowed to cool down nor they permitted to let the -stranger go unmolested. Their tempers, their own -stupidity, their miseries, poor wretches, had made them the -slaves of de Landas' gang. -</p> - -<p> -Gilles had been shrewd enough to suspect the plot almost -from the first. -</p> - -<p> -'I marvel,' he had already said to himself, 'if my gallant -with the Spanish accent and the languorous eyes has had -a finger in this delectable pie. Between employing paid -spadassins to commit deliberate murder and egging on a -set of hungry wretches into achieving manslaughter, there -is little to choose, and Messire de Landas has no doubt -adopted the less risky course.' -</p> - -<p> -But for the nonce self-preservation became the dominant -necessity, and Gilles, feeling himself so closely pressed that -his free movements were becoming hampered, executed a -swift manoeuvre of retreat which landed him a second or -two later with his back against the high encircling walls -of the Archiepiscopal Palace, and with the stately limes of -the Palace gardens waving their emerald-laden branches -above his head. Were his position not quite so precarious, -he might have laughed aloud at its ludicrousness. He, -Gilles de Crohin, masquerading as a Prince of Valois, and -set upon for being a Spanish spy!! That fellow, de Landas, -was a clever rogue! But it was a dirty trick to use these -wretched people as his tools! -</p> - -<p> -Aloud, he shouted, as forcibly and vigorously as he could: -'Now then, my friends! Have I not already told you -that I am no Spaniard? I am a Frenchman, I tell you, -and my Liege Lord the King of France is even at this hour -busy trying to free you from your Spanish tyrants. He——' -</p> - -<p> -'Hark at him!' came at once, to the accompaniment -of deafening clamour, from the rear. 'Feeding us with -lies. 'Tis the way of spies to assume any guise that may -suit their fancy or their pocket. Friends! Citizens! -Do not let the Spaniard trick you! Why is he here, I ask -you? If he is a Frenchman, why doth he go about masked? -What is he doing here? Bargaining with the Duke of -Parma, I say, with your lives and your liberties.' -</p> - -<p> -'Silence, you fool!' cried Gilles, in stentorian tones. -'You miserable cur! Who pays you, I would like to know, -to incite these poor people to break the laws of peace and -order?' -</p> - -<p> -'Peace and order, forsooth!' retorted the voice from the -rear, with a prolonged, harsh laugh. 'You want peace, -no doubt, so that your master the Spanish King can work -his way with Cambray, send his soldiers into our city to -burn our houses, pillage our homes, outrage our wives and -daughters! Citizens, remember Mechlin! Remember -Mons! Beware lest this man sell your city to the Spaniards -and you reap the same fate as your kinsmen there!' -</p> - -<p> -A stupendous cry of rage and execration greeted this -abominable tirade—as abominable, indeed, as it was -ludicrous. One moment of sober reflection would have -convinced these poor, deluded fools how utterly futile and false -were the assertions made by those who were goading them -to exasperation. But a crowd never does reflect once it -is aroused, once a sufficient number of hotheads are there, -ready to drive them from empty bluster to actual violence. -The paid agents of M. de Landas had done their work well. -They had sown seeds of disaffection, of mistrust and of -hostility, for days past and weeks; now they were garnering -just the amount of excitement necessary to bring about a -dastardly crime. -</p> - -<p> -Gilles, with his back against the wall, was beginning to -think that he would have to make a fight for it after all. -Already the crowd was closing in around him, pressing -closer and closer, completing the semicircle which barred -his only means of escape. He tried to make himself heard, -but he was shouted down. The work of the agitators was -indeed complete; the rabble needed no more egging on. -Men and women were ready for any mischief—to seize the -stranger, tear off the rich clothes from his back, ransack -his pockets, knock him on the head and finally drag him -through the streets and throw him either into the river or -over the battlements into the moat. -</p> - -<p> -It became a question now how dearly Gilles would be -able to sell his life. He could no longer hope to reach -the gates of the Palace, and the vast courtyard, gardens -and precincts which surrounded the house itself rendered -it highly improbable that any one would hear the tumult -and come to his assistance. Over the heads of the crowd, -he could see the great, open Place where a patrol of the town -guard was wont to pass from time to time on its beat. For -some unexplainable reason there appeared to be no patrol -in sight to-day. Had they been bribed to keep out of the -way? It was at least possible. Some one had evidently -planned the whole of this agitation, and that some -one—an unscrupulous devil, thought Messire, if ever there was -one!—was not like to have left the town guard out of his -reckoning. -</p> - -<p> -Even while Gilles took this rapid, mental survey of his -position, one of the men in the rear had suddenly stooped -and picked up a loose stone out of the gutter. Gilles saw -the act, saw the man lift the stone, brandish it for a moment -above his head and then fling it with all his might. He -saw it just in time to dodge the stone, which struck the wall -just above his head. -</p> - -<p> -'Not a bad fling, my man,' he said lightly. 'But -'twas the act of a coward!' -</p> - -<p> -Then he drew his sword—was forced to do it, because -the crowd were pressing him close, some with sticks, others -with fists. The square-shouldered man of awhile ago—he -with the bandy legs—had a butcher's knife in his hand. -</p> - -<p> -'Murder!' shrieked the women, as soon as Gilles' sword -darted out of its sheath like a tongue of living flame. -</p> - -<p> -'Aye, murder!' he riposted. 'I can see it in your -eyes! So stand back, all of you, or the foremost among -you who dares to advance is a dead man.' -</p> - -<p> -They did not advance. With a churl's natural terror of -the sword, they retreated, realizing for the first time that -it was a noble lord, an exalted personage whom, in their -blindness, they had dared to attack. Spaniard or no, he -was a gentleman; and suddenly the thought of floggings -or worse for such an outrage dissipated the fumes of folly, -which some unknown person's rhetoric had raised inside -their brains. -</p> - -<p> -De Landas' agents in the rear saw this perceptible retreat. -Another moment or two, and their carefully laid schemes -would certainly come to naught. Failure for them now -was unthinkable. The eyes of their employer were -undoubtedly upon them, even though they could not see him, and -they knew from past bitter experience how relentless the -young Spanish lord could be if his will was thwarted through -the incompetence of his servants. One of them—I think -his name was Jan—bolder than the others, called to his -comrades and to those on the fringe of the crowd who had -not been scared by the sight of that fine Toledo blade, -gave them the lead, which they promptly followed, of -picking up more stones out of the gutter and flinging them at -the stranger one after another in rapid succession. Some -of this stone-throwing was very wild, and Gilles was able -to dodge most of the missiles, whilst others actually hit -some of the crowd. A woman received one on the shoulder; -the bandy-legged bully another on the head. Blood now -was flowing freely, and the sight of blood acts on a -turbulent crowd in the same way as it does on a goaded bull. -No longer frightened of the sword, the riotous crew began -to attack the stranger more savagely. One man struck at -him with a stick, another tried to edge nearer in order to -use a knife. -</p> - -<p> -Stones were being flung now from every point, and soon -it became impossible to dodge them all. The crowd had -become a screeching mob, bent on outrage and on murder. -The screams of women, the cries of little children, mingled -with hoarse cries of rage and volleys of unspeakable -insults. The sight of blood had of a truth turned a knot -of malcontents into a pack of brute beasts, fuming with an -insatiable desire to kill. -</p> - -<p> -As fast as the stones fell around him, Gilles picked them -up and flung them back. These seldom missed their mark, -and already several of his assailants had been forced to -retreat from the field. But now a piece of granite hit him -on the sword-arm and he had barely the time to transfer -his sword to his left hand in order to ward off a thrust -aimed at him with a knife, just below the belt. His right -arm hung limp by his side, aching furiously; a small piece -of sharp stone had grazed his forehead, and with an -unconsidered gesture, he tore the mask from his face, for the -blood was streaming beneath it into his eyes. But that -movement—wellnigh instantaneous as it was—placed -him at a greater disadvantage still, for another stone, -more accurately aimed than some others, hit his left arm -so violently that, but for an instinctive, nervy clutch on -the hilt, his sword would have fallen from his grasp. -</p> - -<p> -After that, he remembered nothing more. A red veil -appeared to interpose itself between his eyes and that mass -of vehement, raging, perspiring humanity before him. -Each individual before him seemed to the weary fighter -to assume greater and ever greater proportions, until he -felt himself confronted with a throng of giants with distorted -faces and huge, ugly jaws, through which a hot fire came, -searing his face and obscuring his vision. Instinctively he -still dodged the missiles, still parried with his sword; but -his movements were mechanical; he felt that they were -becoming inefficient ... that he himself was exhausted -... vanquished. Vaguely he marvelled at Destiny's -strange caprice, which had decreed that he should die, -assassinated by a set of shrieking men and women, whom -he had never wronged even by a thought. -</p> - -<p> -Then suddenly the whole wall behind him appeared to -give way, and he sank backwards into oblivion. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap18"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XVIII -<br /><br /> -HOW A SECOND AWAKENING MAY BE MORE BITTER THAN THE FIRST -</h3> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -I -</h4> - -<p> -It all seemed like the recurrence of that lovely dream -of long ago—the awakening to a sense of well-being -and of security; the sweet-smelling couch; the clean -linen; the fragrance of the air, and above all the tender, -pitying blue eyes and the tiny brown mole which challenged -a kiss. -</p> - -<p> -When Gilles opened his eyes, he promptly closed them -again, for fear of losing that delicious sensation of being -in dreamland, which filled his whole body and soul with -inexpressible beatitude. But even as he did so, a gentle -voice, light and soothing as the murmur of a limpid stream, -reached his ear. -</p> - -<p> -'Will you not look up once more, Messire,' the angelic -voice said softly, 'and assure me that you are not grievously -hurt?' And oh! the little tone—half bantering, wholly -sympathetic—which rippled through those words with a -melodious sound that sent poor Gilles into a veritable heaven -of ecstasy. -</p> - -<p> -But he did look up, just as he was bidden to do—looked -up, and encountered that tantalizing little mole at such -close quarters that he promptly raised his head, so that -his lips might touch it. Whereupon the mole, the blue -eyes, the demure smile, the whole exquisite face, retreated -with lightning rapidity into some obscure and remote -distance, and Gilles, conscious that only gentle pity would -bring them nearer to him again, groaned loudly and once -more closed his eyes. -</p> - -<p> -But this time these outward signs of suffering were -greeted with a mocking little laugh. -</p> - -<p> -'Too late, Messire! You have already betrayed yourself. -You are not so sick as you would have me believe!' -</p> - -<p> -'Sick? No!' he retorted; but made no attempt to -move. 'Dead, more like! and catching my first glimpse -of paradise.' -</p> - -<p> -'Fie, Messire!' she exclaimed gaily. 'To make so -sure of going speedily to Heaven!' -</p> - -<p> -'How can I help being sure when angels are present to -confirm my belief?' -</p> - -<p> -'But you are not in Heaven,' she assured him, and smiled -on him archly from out a frame of tender, leafless branches. -'You are in an arbour in the park, whither I and two of -my servants brought you when you fell into our arms at -the postern gate.' -</p> - -<p> -He raised himself upon his elbow, found he could do it -without much pain; then looked about him searchingly -and wonderingly. He was lying on a couch and his head -had apparently been resting on a couple of velvet cushions. -All around him the still dormant tendrils of wild clematis -wound in and out of skilfully constructed woodwork. -Overhead, the woodwork was shaped to a dome, and straight -in front of him there stretched out a vista over the park -of a straight, grass walk, bordered with beds of brilliantly -coloured tulips and hyacinths and backed by a row of -young limes, on which the baby leaves gleamed like pale -emeralds, whilst far away the graceful pinnacles of the -cathedral stood out like perfect lace-work against the vivid -blue of the sky. -</p> - -<p> -'Well, Messire,' resumed Jacqueline lightly, after awhile, -'are you convinced now that you are still on earth, and -that it was by human agency that you arrived here, not on -angels' wings?' -</p> - -<p> -'No, I am not convinced of that, Madame,' he replied. -'At the same time, I would dearly like to know how I did -come here.' -</p> - -<p> -'Simply enough, Messire. I was taking my usual walk -in the park, when I heard an awful commotion on the other -side of the wall. I and my two servants who were with me -hurried to the postern gate, for of a truth the cries that -we heard sounded threatening and ominous. One of my -servants climbed over the shoulders of the other and hoisted -himself to the top of the wall, from whence he saw that a -whole crowd armed with knives and sticks was furiously -attacking a single man, who was standing his ground with -his back against the postern gate, whilst we could all hear -quite distinctly the clash of missiles hurled against the wall. -To pull open the gate was the work of a few seconds, and -you, Messire, fell backwards into my—into my servants' arms.' -</p> - -<p> -Then, as he made no sign, said not a word, only remained -quite still—almost inert—resting on his elbow and gazing -on her with eyes filled with passionate soul-hunger, she -added gently: -</p> - -<p> -'You are not in pain, Messire?' -</p> - -<p> -'In sore pain, ma donna,' he replied with a sigh. 'In -incurable pain, I fear me.' -</p> - -<p> -The tone of his voice, the look in his eyes while he said -this, made it impossible for her not to understand. She -lowered her eyes for a moment, for his glance had brought -a hot blush to her cheeks. There was a moment of tense -silence in the little arbour—a silence broken only by the -murmur of the breeze through the young twigs of the wild -clematis and the call of a robin in the branches of the limes. -Jacqueline was the first to rouse herself from this strange -and sweet oppression. She gave a quick little sigh and, -unable to speak, she was turning to go away, flying as if -by instinct from some insidious danger which seemed to -lurk for her in the wild, tremulous beating of her heart. -</p> - -<p> -'Jacqueline!' -</p> - -<p> -She had not thought that her name could sound so sweet -as it did just then, when it came to her in a fervent, -passionate appeal from the depths of the fragrant arbour, where -awhile ago she and her servants had laid Messire down to -rest. She did not turn her head to look on him now, but -nevertheless paused on the threshold, for her heart was -beating so fast that she felt almost choked, and her knees -shook so that she was forced to cling with one hand to the -curtain of young twigs which hung at the entrance of the -arbour. -</p> - -<p> -The next moment he was by her side. She felt that he -was near her, even though she still kept her head resolutely -turned away. He put one knee to the ground and, stooping, -kissed the hem of her gown. And Jacqueline—a mere -child where knowledge of the great passion is concerned—felt -that something very great and very mysterious, as -well as very beautiful, had suddenly been revealed to her -by this simple act of homage performed by this one man. -She realized all of a sudden why those few weeks ago, when -the mysterious singer with the mellow voice had sung beneath -her window, the whole world had seemed to her full of beauty -and of joy, why during these past long and weary days while -Messire lay sick and she could not see him, that self-same -world became unspeakably drab and ugly. She knew now -that, with his song, the singer had opened the portals of -her heart, and that, unknown to herself, she had let Love -creep in there and make himself a nest, from whence he had -alternately tortured her or made her exquisitely happy. -Tears which seared and soothed rose to her eyes; a stupendous -longing for something which she could not quite grasp, -filled her entire soul. And with it all, an infinite sadness -made her heart ache till she could have called out with -the pain of it—a sense of the unattainable, of something -perfect and wonderful, which by a hideous caprice of Fate -must for ever remain out of her reach. -</p> - -<p> -'It can never be, Messire!' was all that she said. The -words came like a cry, straight from her heart—a child's -heart, that has not yet learned to dissemble. And that cry -spoke more certainly and more tangibly than any avowal -could have done. In a moment, Gilles was on his feet, -his arms were round her shoulders and his face was buried -in her fragrant hair. And she, unresisting, yielded herself -to him, savoured the sweetness of his caresses, the touch -of his lips on her eyes, her cheeks, her mouth. Her ardent -nature, long held in fetters by convention, responded with -all its richness to the insistent call of the man's passionate -love. -</p> - -<p> -'You love me, Jacqueline?' he asked, and looked down -into the depths of those exquisite blue eyes which had -captured his soul long ago and made him their slave until -this hour, when they in their turn yielded entirely to him. -</p> - -<p> -'Verily,' she replied quaintly, and looked shyly into his -glowing face; 'I do believe, in truth, Messire, that I do.' -</p> - -<p> -Let those who can, blame Gilles de Crohin for losing his -head after that, and for promptly forgetting everything -that he ought to have remembered, save the rapture of -holding her to his breast. Of a truth, duty, honour, -promises, the Duc d'Anjou and Madame la Reyne, were as -far from his ken just now as is a crawling worm from the -starry firmament above. He was going away to-day—out, -out into a great world, into the unknown, where life could -be made anew, where there would be neither sorrow nor -tears, if he could carry this exquisite woman thither in his -arms. -</p> - -<p> -'I cannot let you go, ma donna,' he murmured as he held -her closer and ever closer, and covered her lips, her neck, -her throat with kisses. 'No power on earth can take you -from me now that I have you, that I hold you, my beautiful, -exquisite flower. You love me, Jacqueline?' he asked -her for the tenth time, and for the tenth time she murmured -in response: 'I love you!' -</p> - -<p> -Time had ceased to be. The world no longer existed -for these two happy beings who had found one another. -There was only Love for them—Love, pure and holy, and -Passion, that makes the world go round. There was spring -in the air, and the scent of awakening life around them, -the fragrance of budding blossom, the call of birds, the hum -of bees—Nature, exquisite, wonderful in her perfect selfishness, -and in her oblivion of all save her own immutable -Self. -</p> - -<p> -'You love me, Jacqueline?' -</p> - -<p> -'I love you!' -</p> - -<p> -'Then, in the name of God that made us to love one -another,' he entreated with ever-growing fervour, 'let us -forget everything, leave everything, dare all for the sake -of our Love. It can never be, you say ... everything -can be, mignonne; for Love makes everything possible. -Rank, wealth, duty, country, King—what are they but -shadows? Leave them, my flower! Leave them and come -to me! Love is true, love is real! Come with me, Jacqueline, -and by the living God who made you as perfect as you -are, by your heavenly blue eyes and your maddening smile, -I swear to you that I will give you such an infinity of worship -that I will make of your life one long, unceasing rapture.' -</p> - -<p> -She had closed her eyes, drinking in his ardour with her -very soul. Hers was one of those super-natures which, -when they give, do so in the fullest measure. Being a -woman, and one nurtured in self-control and acute sensitiveness, -she did not, even at this blissful moment, lose complete -grasp of herself; unlike the man, her passion did not carry -her entirely into the realm of forgetfulness. She yielded -to his kisses, knowing that, as they were the first, so they -would be the last that she would ever savour in the fullness -of perfect ecstasy; that parting—dreary, inevitable, -woeful parting—must follow this present transient happiness. -Yet, knowing all that, she would not forgo the exquisite -joy that she felt in yielding, the exquisite joy, too, that -she was giving him. She deliberately plucked the rich -fruit of delight, even though she knew that inexorable Fate -would wrench it from her even before she had tasted its -sweetness to the full. -</p> - -<p> -It was only when Jacqueline, suddenly waking as from -a dream and disengaging herself gently from his arms, -said once again, more resolutely this time: 'It can never -be, Messire!' that Gilles in his turn realized what he had -done. He was brought back to earth with one of those -sudden blows of reawakened consciousness which leave a -man stunned and bruised, in a state of quasi-hebetude. -For one supreme moment of his life the gates of an earthly -paradise had been opened for him and he had been granted -a peep into such radiant possibilities that, dazzled and giddy -with joy, he had felt within himself that sublime arrogance -which makes light of every obstacle and is ready to ride -rough-shod over the entire world. -</p> - -<p> -But the inexorable 'It can never be!' had struck at -the portals of his consciousness, and even before he had -become fully sentient he saw the grim hand of Fate closing -those golden gates before his eyes, and pointing sternly to -the path which led down to earth, left him once more alone -with his dream. -</p> - -<p> -'It can never be!' -</p> - -<p> -He tried to wrestle with Fate, to wrest from cruel hands -that happiness which already was slipping from his grasp. -</p> - -<p> -'Why not?' he cried out defiantly. Then, in a final, -agonized entreaty, he murmured once more, 'Why not?' -</p> - -<p> -Ah! he knew well enough why not! Fool and criminal, -to have forgotten it even for this one brief instant of perfect -bliss! Why not? Ye gods, were there not a thousand -reasons why a penniless soldier of fortune should not dare -approach a noble and rich heiress? and a thousand others -why he—Gilles de Crohin—should never have spoken one -word of love to this one woman, who was destined for another -man—and that man his own liege lord. There was a -gateless barrier made up of honour and chivalry and of an oath -sworn upon the cross between his love and Jacqueline de -Broyart, which in honour he should never have attempted -to cross. -</p> - -<p> -Consciousness came back to him with a sudden rush, -not only the consciousness of what he had done, but of -what he had now to do. Not all the bitter tears of lifelong -remorse would ever succeed in wiping out the past; but -honour demanded that at least the future be kept unsullied. -</p> - -<p> -A final struggle with temptation that was proving -overwhelming, a final, wholly human, longing to keep and to -hold this glorious gift of God; then the last renunciation -as he allowed the loved one to glide out of his arms like a -graceful bird, still a-quiver after this brief immersion in -the torrential wave of his passion. Then, as she stood now -a few paces away from him, with wide, sad eyes deliberately -turned to gaze on the distant sky, he passed his hand across -his forehead, as if with the firm will to clear his brain and -chase away the last vestige of the sweet, insistent dream. -</p> - -<p> -Once more there was silence in the fragrant arbour; -but it was the silence of unspoken sorrow—a silence laden -with the portent of an approaching farewell. Gilles was -the first to break it. -</p> - -<p> -'It can never be, ma donna,' he said quietly, his rugged -voice still shaking with emotion, now resolutely held in -bondage. 'I know that well enough. Knew it even at -the moment when, in my folly, I first dared to kiss your gown.' -</p> - -<p> -'I was as much to blame as you, Messire,' she said naïvely, -her lips trembling with suppressed sobs. 'I don't know -how it came about, but...' -</p> - -<p> -'It came about, ma donna,' he rejoined fervently, 'because -you are as perfect as the angels, and God when He fashioned -you allowed no human weakness to mar His adorable work. -The avowal which came from your sweet lips was just like -the manna which He gave to the hungry crowd. I, the -poor soldier of fortune, have been made thereby more -enviable than a king.' -</p> - -<p> -'And yet we must part, Messire?' she said firmly, and -withal in her voice that touching note of childlike appeal -which for the unfortunate dweller on the outskirts of -paradise was more difficult to withstand than were a glass of -water to one dying of thirst. 'I do not belong to myself, -you know,' she continued, and looked him once more serenely -in the face. 'Ever since my dear brother died I have been -made to understand that my future, my person, belong -to my country—my poor, sorrowing country, who, it seems, -hath sore need of me. I have no right to love, no right to -think of mine own happiness. God alone in His Omniscience -knows how you came to fill my heart, Messire, to the -exclusion of every other thought, of every other duty. It was -wrong of me, I know—wrong and unmaidenly. But the -secret of my love would for ever have remained locked -in my heart if I had not learned that you loved me too.' -</p> - -<p> -She made her profession of faith so firmly and earnestly -and with such touching innocence that the hot passion -which a while ago was raging in Gilles' heart was suddenly -soothed and purified as if with the touch of a divine breath. -A wonderful peace descended on his soul: he hardly knew -himself, his own turbulent temper, his untamed and -passionate nature, so calm and serene did he suddenly feel. -'Yes, we must part, ma donna,' he said, in a simple, -monotonous voice which he himself scarcely recognized -as his own. 'We must each go our way; you to fulfil -the great destiny for which God has created you and to -which your sorrowing country calls you; I to watch from -afar the course of your fortunes, like the poor, starving -astrologer doth watch the course of the stars.' -</p> - -<p> -'From afar?' she said, and her delicate cheeks took on -a dull, lifeless hue. 'Then you will go away?' -</p> - -<p> -'To-day, please God!' he replied. -</p> - -<p> -'But, I—' -</p> - -<p> -'You, ma donna, my beautiful Flower o' the Lily, you -will, I pray Heaven, forget me even as the young, living -sapling forgets the stricken bough which the tempests have -laid low.' -</p> - -<p> -She shook her head. -</p> - -<p> -'I will never forget you, Messire. If you go from me -to-day I will never know another happy hour again.' -</p> - -<p> -'May God bless you for saying this! But I have no -fear that you will not be happy. Happiness comes as -readily to your call as does a bird to its mate. You and -happiness are one, ma donna. Where you are, all the joys -of earth dwell and flourish.' -</p> - -<p> -'Not when I am alone,' she said, the hot tears welling -to her eyes, her voice shaken with sobs. 'And thoughts -of you—lonely and desolate—will chase all joy from out -my life.' -</p> - -<p> -'But you must not think of me at all, ma donna,' he -rejoined with infinite tenderness. 'And when you do, -when a swift remembrance of the poor, rough soldier doth -perchance disturb the serenity of your dreams, do not -think of him as either lonely or desolate. I shall never -again in life be lonely—never again be desolate. I am now -rich beyond the dreams of men, rich with the boundless -wealth of unforgettable memories.' -</p> - -<p> -'You talk so readily of forgetting,' she said sadly. 'Will -you find it so easy, Messire?' -</p> - -<p> -'Look at me, ma donna, and read the answer to your -question in mine eyes.' -</p> - -<p> -She looked up at him, with that shy and demure glance -which rendered her so adorable and so winning, and in his -face she saw so much misery, such unspeakable sorrow that -her heart was seized with a terrible ache. The sobs which -were choking her could no longer be suppressed. She stuffed -her tiny handkerchief into her mouth to stop herself from -crying out aloud, and feeling giddy and faint, she sank on -to a pile of cushions close by and buried her face in her -hands, letting her tears flow freely at last, since she was -not ashamed of the intensity of her grief. -</p> - -<p> -Gilles could have dashed his head against the nearest -tree-trunk, so enraged was he with himself, so humiliated -at his own weakness. How deeply did he regret now that -de Landas' sword had not ended his miserable life, before -he had brought sorrow and tears to this woman whom he -worshipped. What right had he to disturb her peace of -mind? What right to stir to the very depths of her fine -nature those strong passions which, but for his clumsy -touch, might for ever have remained dormant? -</p> - -<p> -And through it all was the sense of his own baseness, -which had come upon him with a rush—his treachery to -Madame la Reyne, his falseness to his sworn oath. Love -for this beautiful woman had swept him off his feet, caught -him at a weak and unguarded moment and left him now -covered with humiliation and self-reproach, an object of -hatred to himself, for ever in future to be haunted by the -recurrent vision of the loved one's face bathed in tears and -by the sound of those harrowing sobs which would until -the end of time rend his soul with unutterable anguish. -</p> - -<p> -'Would to God we had never met!' he murmured -fervently. -</p> - -<p> -And she had sufficient courage, sufficient strength, to -smile up at him through her tears, murmuring with -enchanting simplicity: -</p> - -<p> -'Would to God we had not to part.' -</p> - -<p> -What else could he do but fall on his knees in mute -adoration, and with the final, heartbroken farewell dying -upon his lips? He stooped low until his head nearly touched -the ground. Her small foot in its velvet shoe peeped just -beneath the hem of her gown, and with a last act of humble -adoration, he pressed his lips upon its tip. -</p> - -<p> -'Farewell, my adored one,' he said softly, as he straightened -out his tall, massive figure once more. 'With my -heart and my soul I worship you now and for all time. -Even though I may never again look upon your loveliness, -the memory of it will haunt me until the hour of death, -when my spirit—free to roam the universe—will fly to -you as surely as doth the swallow to its mate. And if in -the future,' he added with solemn earnestness, 'aught -should occur to render me odious in your sight, then I pray -you on bended knees and in the name of this past -unforgettable hour, to remember that, whatever else I may have -done that was unworthy and base, my love for you has -been as pure and sacred as is the love of the lark for the -sun.' -</p> - -<p> -And, before she could reply, he was gone. She watched -his tall figure striding rapidly away along the grass walk, -until he became a mere speck upon the shimmering distance -beyond. Soon he disappeared from view altogether, and -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap19"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XIX -<br /><br /> -WHAT JACQUELINE WAS FORCED TO HEAR -</h3> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -I -</h4> - -<p> -Indeed, to Jacqueline, even more so than to her lover, -this last half-hour appeared more unreal than a dream. -For a long time after Gilles had gone she remained sitting -on the pile of cushions at the entrance of the arbour, gazing, -gazing far away into the translucent sky, struggling with -that life-problem which to the ingenuous hath so oft -remained unsolved: If God gave me that happiness, why -did He take it away again so soon? -</p> - -<p> -Life appeared before her now as one long vista of -uninterrupted dreariness. With her heart dead within her, -she would in truth become the pawn in political games -which her guardian had always desired that she should be. -Well! no doubt it was all for the best. Awhile ago, ere -she had met Messire, ere he had taught her to read in the -great Book of Love, she had been headstrong and rebellious. -A loveless marriage of convention, a mere political alliance -would have revolted her and mayhap caused grave -complications in her troubled country's affairs. Now, nothing -mattered. Nothing would ever matter again. Since happiness -was for ever denied her, she was far more ready to -sacrifice her personal feelings to her country's needs than -she had been before. -</p> - -<p> -Her joy in life would for the future be made up of sacrifice, -and if she could do her beloved and sorely-stricken country -a permanent benefit thereby, well! she would feel once -more that she had not lived her life in vain. -</p> - -<p> -At this stage she was not actively unhappy. Emotion -had torn at her heartstrings and left her bruised and sore, -but her happiness had been too brief to cause bitter regret. -She was chiefly conscious of an immense feeling of pity -for her lover, whose heartache must indeed be as great as -her own. But, for herself, there was nothing that she -regretted, nothing that she would have wished to be -otherwise. All her memories of him were happy ones—except -that moment of the midnight quarrel in the Palace, when -for a brief while she had wilfully misjudged him. Even the -final parting from him, though it broke her heart, had -been wholly free from bitterness. She was so sure of his -love that she could almost bear patiently to see him go -away, knowing that she could always treasure his love in -her heart as something pure and almost holy. -</p> - -<p> -All through life that love would encompass her, would -keep her from evil thoughts and evil intent, whilst nothing -on earth could rob her of the sweets of memory. She loved -him and he had wanted her, even long before she knew him; -he had come to Cambray in disguise, under a mask, and had -wooed her in his own romantic fashion, with song and laughter -and joy of living, so different to the amorous sighs and -languorous looks wherewith other swains had striven to -win her regard. She loved the mystery wherewith he had -surrounded his person, smiled at the thought how he had led -Monseigneur her guardian by the nose, and had tried vainly -to hoodwink even her—her, Jacqueline, who had loved him -already that night when he had flung Pierre over the wall -and run to her window, singing: 'Mignonne, venez voir -si la rose——' -</p> - -<p> -And he had thought to hoodwink her after that! thought -to throw dust in her eyes by playing a dual rôle, now -masquerading as the Prince de Froidmont, now as the equerry—he, -the chosen of her heart, the man whose every action, -every word was fine and noble and dear.... How foolish -of him to imagine that she could be deceived. Why, there -was that scar upon his hand—a scar the sight of which had -loosened a perfect floodgate of memories—a scar which she -herself had helped to tend and bind three years ago, in the -monastery of Gembloux. She could even remember the -leech saying at the time: 'The rascal will be marked for -life, I warrant. I've never seen such a strange wound before—the -exact shape of a cross it is, like the mark on an ass's -back.' -</p> - -<p> -How well she remembered that night! Her own anxiety -for the wounded man—a poor soldier, evidently, for he was -miserably clad; his clothes were old and had been frequently -darned and his pockets only contained a few sols. He had -apparently fought with the French on that awful day, -and had been discovered by herself, lying unconscious near -the monastery wall, up on the hill, more than a league away -from the field of battle. She remembered insisting that -the leech should tend him, and afterwards that he should -be taken back to the spot where the fighting had taken place, -in case some friend or comrade be searching for him. After -that, the death of her dear brother and the change in her -fortunes had chased all other memories away, until that -awful night in the Palace, when de Landas had behaved -like a coward and she like a vixen, and the Prince de -Froidmont had threaded the masks of his vanquished enemies -upon his sword and thrown them at her feet. She had seen -the scar then upon his hand, and the sight had troubled -her, because of the mystery which it evoked. Then came -the next day, when she sat in the window embrasure in -wait for the Prince's equerry. At once his face had seemed -so strangely familiar to her—and then there was the scar! -</p> - -<p> -Jacqueline remembered how deeply she pondered over -the puzzle then. The Prince de Froidmont and his equerry -were one and the same person; that was evident, of course. -And both these personalities were also merged in that of the -poor soldier whom she had helped to tend in the monastery -of Gembloux. But, unlike most women, she had never -tried to pry into his secrets. Somehow the mystery—if -mystery there was—seemed to harmonize with his whole -personality. She loved him as he was—rough at times, -at others infinitely gentle; and oh! the strength of his -love and its ardour when he held her in his arms! She -would be quite satisfied if the mystery remained for ever -unsolved. It was a part of him, not by any means the -least amongst his many attractions in her sight. -</p> - -<p> -Now he had gone, never to return, leaving her alone with -only memory for company—memory and a huge longing -to rest once more in the safe fold of his protecting arms. -</p> - -<p> -'Come back to me, Messire!' she called out to him in -her heart. 'Take no heed of what I said when in my blind -folly I vowed that it could never be. It shall and must be -if you'll only come back to me—just once—only once—and -I should be content. God never meant that you and I -should part before we had each drained the cup of Love -to the end. The world is ours, our Love shall conquer it. -Not the world of riches and of pomp; not even the world -of glory. Just a little kingdom of our own, wherein no one -shall dwell but you and I—a little kingdom bound for me -by the span of your arms, my throne your heart, my crown -your kiss.' -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -II -</h4> - -<p> -Dreaming, sighing, longing, Jacqueline sat on in the -arbour, unmindful of time. It was only when the cathedral -bell boomed the midday hour that she awoke—vaguely, -still—to the actualities of life. Of a truth, it seemed -difficult to conceive that life in the future must go on just -the same: the daily rounds, the conventionalities, the -social flummeries must all go on, and she—Jacqueline—would -have to smile, to speak, to live on—just the same. -</p> - -<p> -And yet nothing, nothing on earth could ever be quite -the same again. It is impossible to delve deeply into the -Book of Passion, to have mastered the lesson which God -Himself forbade His children to learn, and then to look on -Life with the same vacant, ignorant eyes as before. The -daily rounds would certainly go on; but life itself would -henceforth be different. The girl—a mere child—had in -one brief half-hour become a woman. Love had -transfigured the world for her. -</p> - -<p> -But she tried to think of life as he—her knight—would -have wished her to do, to fulfil her destiny so that from -afar he might be proud of her. Above all, she would show -a serene face to her world. Her fellow-citizens here in -Cambray had quite enough sorrow to behold, without -having the sight of Madame Jacqueline de Broyart's -tear-stained face constantly before them. There would be much -to do in the near future—much grief to console, many -troubles to alleviate. What was one solitary heartache -beside the sufferings of an entire nation? -</p> - -<p> -She rose to her feet, feeling more valiant and strong. -One last look she gave round the little arbour which had -sheltered her short-lived happiness. The pale sun peeped -in shyly through the interstices of the woodwork, and threw -a shaft of honey-coloured light upon the couch where he -had lain unconscious, after she and her servants had saved -him from the mob. With an impulsive movement which -she did not try to check, she ran up to the couch, and, -kneeling down beside it, she buried her face in the pillows -whereon his head had rested. A few more tears, one -long convulsive sob, a heart-broken sigh; then nothing -more. That was the end! the last word in the final chapter -of her romance, the lifelong farewell to her girlish dream. -</p> - -<p> -Then she dried her eyes resolutely, rose to her feet, and -prepared to return to the Palace. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -III -</h4> - -<p> -But at the entrance of the arbour she was met by de -Landas. He was standing there, looking at her, with a -hideously evil sneer upon his face. -</p> - -<p> -She had not spoken with him since that day when she -had for ever cast him out of her heart, had always succeeded -in avoiding him when the exigencies of their mutual social -position forced her to be in the same room with him. To-day -she felt as if his very presence was an outrage. How long -he had been there she could not say; how much of her -soul agony he had witnessed caused her a sense of -intolerable humiliation. For the moment he had trapped her, -obviously had lain in wait for her, and was not like to let -her go without forcing his company upon her. There was no -other exit to the little arbour, and she, unable to avoid him, -yet loathing the very sight of him, could only take refuge -in an attitude of haughty indifference and of lofty scorn. -</p> - -<p> -'I will not pollute you with my touch,' he said coolly, -seeing that at sight of him she had retreated a step or two, -as she would have done had she encountered a noisome -reptile. He remained standing in the doorway, leaning -against the woodwork, with arms folded and legs crossed -and an insolent leer in his dark eyes. -</p> - -<p> -'Then I pray you to let me pass,' was her calm rejoinder. -</p> - -<p> -'Not,' he riposted, 'till you have allowed me to say -something to you, which hath weighed on my heart these past -three weeks.' -</p> - -<p> -'There is nothing that you can wish to say to me, -M. le Marquis, that I would care to hear.' -</p> - -<p> -'You are severe, Jacqueline,' he said. Then, as she made -no reply save an indifferent shrug of the shoulders, he -added with well-feigned humility: 'Not more so than I -deserve, I know. But I was delirious on that day. I did -not know what I was saying. Jealousy had completely -obscured my brain. You would not make a madman -responsible for his ravings!' -</p> - -<p> -'Let us leave it at that, M. le Marquis,' she rejoined -calmly. 'But you will understand that I do not care to -listen to that same madman's ravings again.' -</p> - -<p> -'How cold you are!' he murmured, sighed dolefully -like one in utter grief. His whole attitude suddenly -betokened contrition and overwhelming sentiment; his fine -dark eyes even contrived to fill themselves with tears. -'Have you forgotten so soon, Jacqueline?' he asked, 'all -that you and I have meant to one another in the past; how -oft your golden head hath rested against my heart!' -</p> - -<p> -But she was not like to be taken in by this mood, the -falseness of which was transparent enough. -</p> - -<p> -'An' you do not cease to insult me with your ramblings,' -she said, with all the scorn which his contemptible ruse -deserved, 'I will call to my servants to rid me of your -presence.' -</p> - -<p> -'Your servants are too far away to hear you,' he retorted -with a cynical laugh. 'And if you do not listen to me -to-day, Jacqueline, you will put it out of my power to save -you from humiliation and your lover from death.' -</p> - -<p> -'How dare you!' she exclaimed aloud, roused at last -out of her indifference by his wanton insolence. Whereupon -he, seeing that she was not to be won by honeyed words, -threw down the mask in an instant, appeared in his true -colours—false, vengeful and full of venom, his face distorted -by jealous rage, breathing greed and spite as he spoke. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh!' he said with a sneer. 'A man who has been -flouted and scorned and who sees a hated rival assuming -a position which once was his, is not like to mince his -words. I have nothing to lose at your hands—remember -that, my fine Madame. The full measure of your hate -and of your scorn are my portion now, it seems; while -Messire le Prince de Froidmont is the recipient of your -smiles.' -</p> - -<p> -Outraged to her innermost being by hearing that name, -which to her was almost sacred, profaned by that vile -creature's lips, Jacqueline would readily now have forgotten -her dignity, and fled from his presence if she could, as she -would from that of a spirit of evil. But he divined her -wish to flee, feared that she might succeed in slipping past -him; so he seized her by the wrist just as she meditated -a dash past him, and held her so fast and with such a -brutish grip, that but for her courage and sense of dignity, -she could have screamed with pain. -</p> - -<p> -'Listen to me, Jacqueline,' he said menacingly. 'You -must listen! Think you I will stand by any longer and -see the man whom I hate worse than any man I have ever -hated in all my life before, in the full enjoyment of what I -have lost—of your fortune, my winsome Flemish scrub, -the only thing about you which is worth a Spanish -gentleman's while to covet? Oh! but I know more about -your love intrigue, my proud lady, than you think! I knew -something of it before to-day, when, half an hour ago I -saw the noble Prince de Froidmont stealing unmasked out -of the postern gate. Unmasked, my tricksy lady,' he -continued with a harsh laugh, 'in more senses than one; for -though he was dressed in the rich clothes affected by the -master, the man who stole out of the postern gate had the -features of the equerry. A pretty story, indeed, this would -make for Monseigneur the governor! Madame Jacqueline -de Broyart meeting clandestinely, like a flirtatious kitchen -wench, some nameless adventurer who hath captured her -fancy!' -</p> - -<p> -'M. de Landas,' she said quite calmly, as soon as he gave -her a chance of making herself heard, 'an you have a -spark of manhood left in you, you will cease these insults -and let me go.' -</p> - -<p> -'What else was it but a clandestine meeting?' he riposted -savagely. 'Your flaming cheeks and tear-filled eyes -proclaim it loudly enough. I saw him, I tell you; then I -searched for you, but I did not know of this arbour. Such -private trysting-places were never granted me!' -</p> - -<p> -'M. de Landas,' she reiterated for the third time, 'I -desire you to be silent and to let me go.' -</p> - -<p> -'So you shall, my dear,' he riposted with his insolent -leer. 'So you shall! You shall be free in a moment or -two—free to go quietly back to your own room and there -to ponder over one or two questions which I am going to -put to you, and which mayhap have never occurred to you -before. Who is this Prince de Froidmont? Where did -he spring from? Why does he masquerade, now as the -master, anon as his own equerry? What unavowable secret -doth he hide beneath that eternal mask of his? Can you -answer that, my specious lady, who are still fresh from -that enigmatic person's arms? Was it the Prince who -kissed you in this arbour, or was it his servant?' -</p> - -<p> -Then, as she drew herself up to her full height, looking -a veritable statue of lofty disdain, a world of withering -contumely in her fine eyes, he went on more insidiously: -</p> - -<p> -'Let me tell you one thing, Jacqueline, of which you -obviously are ignorant. There is no Prince de Froidmont -inscribed in France's book of Heraldry. There is an -out-at-elbows Seigneur de Froidmont, whose fortunes are at -so low an ebb that he sells his sword to the highest bidder. -He was last seen in the company of the Duc d'Anjou, the -most dissolute scion of an abandoned race. And those -who knew him then, say that he is tall and broad-shouldered, -hath a martial mien and the air of a soldier. They also -say that he has a curiously shaped scar on the back of -his hand. Now, I warn you, Jacqueline, that when next I -meet Monseigneur le Prince de Froidmont, I shall ask him -to give me his hand in friendship, and if he refuses, which -he certainly will do, I shall challenge him to take off his -glove ere I smite him in his lying face with mine.' -</p> - -<p> -'When you have finished with those vile calumnies, -Messire...' began Jacqueline coldly. -</p> - -<p> -'Calumnies!' he exclaimed. 'Calumnies, you call -them? Then Heaven help you, for your infatuation has -indeed made you blind! But take care, Jacqueline, take -care! The eyes of hate are keener than those of -love.' -</p> - -<p> -'The eyes of some miserable informant, you mean!' -she retorted. -</p> - -<p> -'Informant? I had no need of an informant to tell -me that if a man shuns the gaze of his fellow-creatures it -is because he hath something unavowable to hide. Beware -the man who conceals his face behind a mask, his identity -behind an assumed name! He has that to conceal which -is dishonourable and base. Think on it all, Jacqueline. -'Tis a friendly warning I am giving you. The path which -you have chosen can only lead to humiliation. Already -the people of Cambray are enraged against the mysterious -stranger. Take care lest Madame Jacqueline de Broyart, -duchesse et princesse de Ramèse, be found bestowing her -favours upon a common spy!' -</p> - -<p> -He released her wrist, having had his say, felt triumphant -and elated too because she had been forced, in spite of -herself, to listen to him. Hers was an intensely mobile -face, with sensitive brow and lips that readily betrayed her -thoughts and emotions; and, as he had said very -pertinently, the eyes of hate are sharper than those of love. -He had studied her face while he was pouring the pernicious -poison into her ear. He saw that poison filtrating slowly -but surely into her brain. For the moment she looked -scornful, aloof, dignified; <i>but she had listened</i>; she had -not called to her servants; she had not even made a second -attempt to escape. Eve once listened to the smooth -persuasion of the serpent; Elsa heard to the end what Ortrude -had to say, and Jacqueline de Broyart, her soul still -vibrating in response to Gilles de Crohin's passionate love, had -not closed her ears to de Landas' perfidy. -</p> - -<p> -The serpent, having shed his venom, was content. He -was subtle enough not to spoil the effect of his rhetoric -by any further words. Obviously Jacqueline no longer -heard him. Her thoughts were already far away, wandering -mayhap in those labyrinthine regions to which a -miscreant's blind hatred had led them. He turned on his -heel and left her standing there, still dignified and scornful. -But there was that in her pose, in the glitter of her eyes -and the set of her lips, which suggested that something of -her former serenity had gone. She still looked calm and -indifferent, but her quietude now was obviously forced; -there was a tell-tale quiver round her lips, the sight of which -gave de Landas infinite satisfaction. In her whole person -there was still determination, valour and perfect faith; -but it was militant faith, the courage and trust of a woman -fighting in defence of her love—not the sweet tenderness -of childlike belief. -</p> - -<p> -And with an inward sigh of content, the serpent wriggled -quietly away. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap20"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XX -<br /><br /> -HOW MORE THAN ONE PLOT WAS HATCHED -</h3> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -I -</h4> - -<p> -And now the die was cast. -</p> - -<p> -Gilles de Crohin stood before Monseigneur the -governor of Cambray and Monsieur le Comte de Lalain -in the library of the Archiepiscopal Palace, and in the name -of Monsieur Duc d'Anjou et d'Alençon, asked for the hand -of Madame Jacqueline de Broyart in marriage. -</p> - -<p> -It was a solemn hour wherein the fate of nations rested -in the hand of men, whilst God withheld His final decree. -Gilles had kept his word to the end. Madame la Reyne -could be satisfied. He had put resolutely behind him all -thoughts of his dream and of his own happiness. His -exquisite Jacqueline had ceased to be aught but a vision -of loveliness, intangible, and for him—the poor soldier of -fortune—for ever unattainable. For once in his life he -was thankful for the beneficence of the mask. At least he -was spared the effort of concealing the ravages which misery -had wrought upon his face. What the final struggle had -cost him, no one would ever know; even Maître Jehan -had been shut out from the narrow room, wherein a man's -imprisoned soul fought out the grim fight 'twixt love and -duty. -</p> - -<p> -When, an hour later, Messire called to his faithful henchman -to help him don his richest attire, the battle had been -won. The man himself was left heart-broken and bruised, -a mere wreck of his former light-hearted self; but honour -and the sworn word had gained the day. Love lay fettered, -passion vanquished. God's will alone should now be done. -</p> - -<p> -A great sigh of relief came from d'Inchy when <i>Monsieur</i> -had pronounced the final word which bound him irrevocably -to the destinies of Flanders. He and de Lalain bowed their -heads almost to the ground. Gilles extended his hand to -them both and they each kissed it almost reverently. -</p> - -<p> -Then they both rose, and d'Inchy said solemnly: -</p> - -<p> -'No Prince could wear a more glorious crown than that -of the Sovereignty of the Netherlands.' -</p> - -<p> -And de Lalain added with equal earnestness: -</p> - -<p> -'And no King could wed a worthier mate.' -</p> - -<p> -A worthier mate! Ye gods! Gilles could have laughed -aloud at the abjectness of this tragic farce. A worthier -mate? Who knew that better than the unfortunate man -who had held her for one brief, blissful moment in his -arms, just long enough to feel how perfect, how exquisite -she was—just long enough to realize all that he had lost. -Truly hell's worst torture could not be more harrowing than -this. -</p> - -<p> -Wearied to the very top of his bent, Messire did his best -to bring the interview to an end. -</p> - -<p> -'And now, Messeigneurs,' he said at last, 'I will, by your -leave, bid you farewell. My Maître de Camp, Messire de -Balagny, has, as you know, arrived in Cambray. He will -represent me here the while I go to rejoin my armies.' -</p> - -<p> -'Your Highness would leave us?' exclaimed d'Inchy -with a frown. 'So soon?' -</p> - -<p> -'Only to return in triumph, Messire,' replied Gilles, 'at -the head of my armies, after I have brought the Spaniard -to his knees.' -</p> - -<p> -'But Madame Jacqueline,' protested de Lalain. 'The -betrothal—' -</p> - -<p> -'While Cambray is starving, Messire, and the Duke of -Parma is at her gates, there is no time for public festivities. -You will convey to Madame Jacqueline de Broyart my earnest -desire that she should confer the supreme honour upon -me by consenting to be my wife.' Then, as the two men -appeared wrapt in moody silence, he added quickly, with I -know not what faint ray of hope within his heart: 'You are -doubtful of her consent?' -</p> - -<p> -'Doubtful? Oh, no, Monseigneur,' replied d'Inchy. -'Jacqueline de Broyart is, above all, a daughter of Flanders. -She is ready to give her fortune, herself, all that is asked -of her, to the man who will free her country from its -oppressors.' -</p> - -<p> -'Then the sooner I go ... and return to claim my bride,' -rejoined Gilles dryly, 'the better it will be for us all.' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes, Monseigneur—but——' -</p> - -<p> -'But what?' -</p> - -<p> -'The people of Cambray will wish to see Your Highness -with Madame Jacqueline by your side—her hand in -yours—in token of an irrevocable pledge.' -</p> - -<p> -'Starving people care little for such flummery, Messire. -They will prefer to see the sentimental ceremony when mine -armies have driven the foe from their city's gates.' -</p> - -<p> -'But——' -</p> - -<p> -'Ah, ça, Messeigneurs!' suddenly queried Gilles with -growing impatience. 'Do you, perchance, mistrust me?' -</p> - -<p> -The protest which came from the two Flemish lords in -response to this suggestion was not perhaps as whole-hearted -as it might have been. Gilles frowned beneath his mask. -Here was a complication which he had not foreseen. He -could part from Jacqueline—yes!—he could tear her sweet -image from out his heart, since she could never become his. -He could play his part in the odious comedy to the end—but -only on the condition that he should not see her again -or attempt to carry through the deception which, in her -presence, would anyhow be foredoomed to failure. -</p> - -<p> -A public betrothal! A solemn presentation to the people, -with Jacqueline's hand in his own, her dear eyes having -found him out in the very first minute that they met again, -despite every mask, every disguise and every trickery! -Heavens above! but there was a limit to human endurance! -and Gilles had already reached it, when he envisaged his -beloved as the wife of another man—and that man wholly -unworthy of her. Now he had come to the end of his -submission. Honour and loyalty could go no further. -</p> - -<p> -Of a truth, it seemed as if some impish Fate would upset, -at this eleventh hour, Madame la Reyne's perfectly laid -schemes. The Flemish lords looked obstinate. It seemed -to Gilles that while he himself had stood silent for the space -of a quick heart-beat, cogitating as to his next course of -action, a secret understanding had quickly passed between -the two men. -</p> - -<p> -This in its turn had the effect of stiffening Gilles' temper. -He felt like a gambler now, whose final stake was in jeopardy. -</p> - -<p> -'For my part, Messeigneurs,' he said with a clever -assumption of haughty insolence, 'I could not lend myself to a -public pageant at this hour. His Majesty my brother -would not wish it. When I enter Cambray as its conqueror -I will claim my promised bride—and not before.' -</p> - -<p> -This final 'either—or' was a bold stroke, no doubt: -the losing gambler's last throw. If the Flemings demurred, -all was lost. Gilles, by an almost superhuman effort, -contrived to remain outwardly calm, keeping up that air -of supercilious carelessness which had all along kept the -Flemish lords on tenterhooks. Obviously the tone had -aroused their ire, just as it had done many a time before, -and Gilles could see well enough that a final repudiation of -the whole bargain hovered on M. d'Inchy's lips. But once -again the counsels of prudence prevailed; the implied 'take -it or leave it,' so insolently spoken by <i>Monsieur</i>, had the -effect of softening the two men's obstinacy. Perhaps they -both felt that matters had anyhow gone too far, even for -a man of Monsieur's vacillating temperament to withdraw -from the bargain with a shred of honour. Be that as it -may, when Gilles rejoined a moment or two later with -marked impatience: 'Which is it to be, Messire? Is a -Prince of the House of Valois not to be trusted to keep his -word?' d'Inchy replied quite glibly: -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, absolutely, Monseigneur!' -</p> - -<p> -'Well, then?' queried Gilles blandly. -</p> - -<p> -'There is nothing more to be said,' concluded de Lalain. -'And if your Highness really desires to leave us——' -</p> - -<p> -'I do desire to rejoin my armies as soon as may be.' -</p> - -<p> -'Then it shall be in accordance with Monseigneur's -wishes. I will see that everything is made ready for the -safety and secrecy of your journey.' -</p> - -<p> -'You are more than gracious, Messire,' said Gilles, who -had some difficulty in disguising the intense relief which he -felt. 'As you know, my Maître de Camp, Messire de -Balagny, is in Cambray now. He will be my representative -during my brief absence.' -</p> - -<p> -After that, little more was said. Formal leave-taking -took up the last few minutes of this momentous interview. -Gilles had some difficulty in concealing his eagerness to get -away: a dozen times within those same few minutes he -was on the point of betraying himself, for indeed it seemed -ludicrous that the Duc d'Anjou should be quite so eager -to go. However, the two Flemings were in a distinctly -conciliatory mood now. They appeared to desire nothing -save the keeping of His Highness' good graces. -</p> - -<p> -'Monseigneur will remember that Cambray is on the edge -of starvation!' said d'Inchy earnestly at the last. -</p> - -<p> -'Give me three months, Messire,' rejoined Gilles lightly, -'and her joy-bells will be ringing for her deliverance.' -</p> - -<p> -'For the entry of <i>Monsieur</i> Duc d'Anjou, within her -walls?' -</p> - -<p> -'And the betrothal of Madame Jacqueline de Broyart -to a Prince of the House of France.' -</p> - -<p> -'A happy hour for the Netherlands, Monseigneur.' -</p> - -<p> -'And a proud one for me, Messire,' concluded Gilles -solemnly. 'For the Prince of the House of France will -not lead his bride to the altar empty-handed. The freedom -of the Netherlands will be her marriage-portion.' -</p> - -<p> -'Amen to that,' said the Flemish lords fervently. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -II -</h4> - -<p> -They kissed the gracious hand which was extended to -them; they bent the knee and took leave of their exalted -guest with all the ceremonial due to his rank. -</p> - -<p> -But the moment that Gilles had finally succeeded in -effecting his escape, and even before his firm footstep had -ceased to echo along the corridors of the Palace, a complete -change took place in the demeanour of these two noble -lords. -</p> - -<p> -Monseigneur the governor drew inkhorn, pen and paper -close to him, with almost feverish haste; then he began to -write, letter after letter, while his friend watched him in -silence. For over half an hour no sound was heard in tie -room save the ceaseless scratching of d'Inchy's pen upon -the paper. Only when half a dozen letters were written -and each had been duly signed and sealed did de Lalain -make a remark. -</p> - -<p> -'You are sending out orders for a holiday to-morrow?' -he asked. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes,' replied d'Inchy. -</p> - -<p> -'And orders to de Landas not to allow any one to leave -the city?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes.' -</p> - -<p> -'I thought so. You do not trust our wily Prince?' -</p> - -<p> -'No,' retorted the other curtly. 'Do you?' -</p> - -<p> -Then, as de Lalain made no reply, since indeed that -reply was obvious, d'Inchy went on, in a quick, sharp tone -of command: -</p> - -<p> -'Will you see the Chief Magistrate yourself, my good de -Lalain? Explain to him just what we have in contemplation. -A reception in the Town Hall, the presence of the -Provosts of the city and of the Mayors of the several guilds; -the announcement of the betrothal to be read to the people -from the balcony. The Provosts must see to it that there -is a large concourse of people upon the Grand' Place and -that the whole city is beflagged by ten o'clock in the -morning, and wears an air of general festivity.' -</p> - -<p> -'It shall be done at once,' said de Lalain simply. -</p> - -<p> -D'Inchy then rang the bell and summoned one of his -special messengers to his presence. As soon as the man -appeared, he gave him one of the letters which he had just -written. -</p> - -<p> -'This to Messire de Landas,' he commanded. 'And -see that he has it without delay.' -</p> - -<p> -The man retired, and when d'Inchy was once more alone -with his friend, he added complacently: -</p> - -<p> -'This will close the trap, methinks, on our wily fox.' -</p> - -<p> -'So long as he doth tumble into it,' remarked de Lalain -dryly. -</p> - -<p> -'He will! He will! You may be sure of that! Imagine -him a few hours hence, ready for his journey and finding -every gate closed against him and the town garrison afoot. -I have warned de Landas of what was in the wind, and given -him an outline of my plans for to-morrow. I can safely -trust him to see that no one leaves the city within the next -four and twenty hours, for I have made him personally -accountable to me if any suspected person should effect -an escape. So our fine <i>Monsieur</i> will fume and rage, and -demand to see Monseigneur the governor. The latter, -weary and sick, will have long ago retired to bed. In the -morning he will still be sick and unable to attend to -business, until past ten o'clock, when quite unexpectedly he -will have given his exalted guest the slip and already be -engaged on important matters at the Town Hall. Thither -<i>Monsieur</i> will repair at once—you may take your oath on -that—fretting to receive his safe-conduct and be out of -the city ere another twenty-four hours go by. In the -meanwhile——' -</p> - -<p> -'You will have spoken with Madame Jacqueline,' broke -in de Lalain eagerly. 'The Magistrate and the Provosts -will have issued their proclamations, the city will be beflagged -and the people assembled on the Grand' Place, eager to see -Madame and her royal betrothed. What a programme, -my good d'Inchy!' he concluded with unstinted enthusiasm. -'And how wisely conceived! Of a truth, you have enchained -our fox. He cannot now slip out of our sight.' -</p> - -<p> -When the two old cronies finally took leave of one another, -they had prepared everything for their next day's box of -surprise. A surprise it would be for everybody, and -Monseigneur d'Inchy could indeed congratulate himself on the -happy cannon-shot which he would fire off on the morrow, -and which would wake this sad and dormant city from its -weary somnolence. The alliance with the Royal House of -France would prove a splendid stimulus for the waning -courage of the people, whilst a fickle Valois Prince would -at the same time learn that it is not easy to play fast and -loose with a nation that was ruled by such diplomatic and -determined men as were M. le Comte de Lalain and -Monseigneur d'Inchy, governor of Cambray. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -III -</h4> - -<p> -As for de Landas, he probably spent that evening some -of the happiest hours which he had experienced for some -time. It seemed indeed as if Fate, having buffeted him -about so unmercifully these past few weeks, was determined -to compensate him for everything that he had suffered. -</p> - -<p> -When he received Monseigneur's letter, he was still -fresh from his stormy interview with Jacqueline, still fresh -from the discovery which he had made of at any rate a -part of his rival's secret. As to what use he would make -of this discovery, he had not yet made up his mind: his -dark, vengeful soul was for the nonce consumed with rage -at thought of seeing Jacqueline happy in the love of the man -whom he so cordially hated. In the ordinary course of -events, he would have been perfectly content to see her -married—for political reasons, lovelessly or even unhappily—to -any man who was influential enough to win her at the -hands of her ambitious guardian. But to think of her -bestowing her love and her kisses on another was wont -to drive de Landas to the verge of mania. He did not love -Jacqueline de Broyart. He had told her so, and he -knew that her fortune would never be his. But he had -always desired her, and did so still; and such are the -tortuous ways of a depraved heart, that he would have -been content to lose her only if he knew that she would -be unhappy. -</p> - -<p> -Now, suddenly, Fate had changed everything. Instead -of impotent rage and futile scheming, Monseigneur's orders -had placed in his hands the very weapon which he needed -to consummate that revenge of which he dreamed. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="quote"> -'See to it, My dear de Landas,' Monseigneur had written, -'that for the next four and twenty Hours a full Company of the -Town garrison is afoot, and that no one leave this City on any -pretext whatsoever. I have prepared a special pageant for -the People—a day of Festivity, wherein I will make a joyful -Announcement to them from the Balcony of the Town Hall. -This announcement has a direct bearing not only on the -Future of our sorely-stricken Province, but also on that of her -fairest Daughter. Both these great Issues are inextricably -bound together, and to-morrow will see them ratified before -our assembled people. So, see to it, My dear de Landas, -that the Garrison under your Command do keep Order in the -Town, so that there should be no disturbance likely to mar the -solemnity of the occasion. There are always Malcontents in -every Community and dissentients to every measure of public -good. But I know that You at least have always been at one -with Me in earnest desire to see our beloved country -placed under the protection of our mighty neighbour, and that -You will therefore rejoice with Me that that desire will at -last be fulfilled. Because of Your unswerving loyalty to me -and to Our cause, You shall be the first to know that the -mysterious stranger whom We have so long harboured within -Our gates and who chose to be known to Us all as the Prince -de Froidmont, is none other than Monsieur duc d'Anjou et -d'Alençon, Brother of His Majesty the King of France, who -came to Cambray for the express purpose of wooing Madame -Jacqueline de Broyart, Our Ward, to be his Wife. That -he has succeeded in winning her promise is the announcement -which I desire to make to our People to-morrow. I -also will give them the assurance that, in consequence of -this alliance with the royal House of Valois, We may reckon -on the full might and support of France to deliver Us from -Our enemies.' -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -De Landas crushed the welcome letter in his hand in the -excess of his joy. He could have screamed aloud with -unholy rapture. -</p> - -<p> -'There is a fraud here, of course. Monseigneur has been -hoodwinked. The Prince de Froidmont is not Duc d'Anjou!' -he cried exultantly. 'This much I know. And now, friend -Beelzebub and all your myrmidons, grant me aid, so that I -may unmask that miscreant in a truly dramatic manner! -Something must and shall be done, to turn that fateful -hour to-morrow into one of triumph for me, and of humiliation -for the woman who has dared to scorn my love. As for -the man who has filched her from me, this same hour will -be one which shall cover him with such boundless infamy, -that for Jacqueline the very memory of his kisses will for -ever remain an agony of shame.' -</p> - -<p> -He sent a hasty summons to his intimates—to Maarege, -de Borel, du Prêt and the whole of the gang of hot-headed -malcontents, and just like in the Archiepiscopal Palace, -so in the lodgings occupied by Messire de Landas, a Council -of War was held which lasted late into the night. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -IV -</h4> - -<p> -It was a dark and stormy evening after a brilliant day; -and some time after the cathedral bell had struck the hour -of ten, Messire de Landas, commanding the town garrison, -was making the round of the city gates. -</p> - -<p> -He had his man, Pierre, with him—a fellow well known -to the guard. At the gate of Cantimpré, Messire desired -that the bridge be lowered, for he wished to assure -himself that everything was as it should be, over on the -right bank of the river. Far away to the right and left, -the lights of the Duke of Parma's encampment could be -distinctly seen. The archers at the gate begged Messire -not to venture too far out into the darkness, for the Spanish -patrols were very wide-awake, and they were like cats for -sighting a man in the dark. But Messire thought it his -duty to cross the bridge, and to see if all was well on the -other side. He refused to take a bodyguard with him in -case the Spanish patrols were on the alert. Messire de -Landas was known to be very brave; he preferred to take such -risks alone. -</p> - -<p> -Only his man Pierre accompanied him. -</p> - -<p> -The archers kept a sharp look-out. But the night was -very dark, a veritable gale was blowing from the south-west, -and the driven rain was blinding. Messire crossed -the bridge with Pierre, after which the darkness swallowed -them both up. -</p> - -<p> -Ten minutes later, the guard at the gate, the archers -and gunners, heard the sharp report of two musket shots, -following closely upon one another, and coming from over -the right bank of the river. Trembling with anxiety, they -marvelled if Messire were safe. The sheriff, who had no -special orders from the commandant to meet the present -eventuality, did not know what to do. He was ready -to tear out his hair in an agony of apprehension. Had -it not been quite so dark he would have sent out a -search-party, for Messire still tarried. But, as it was, his -men might fall straight into a <i>guet-apens</i> and be -massacred in the gloom, without doing any good to any one. -Skilled and able-bodied men were becoming precious -assets in Cambray: their lives could not be carelessly -jeopardized. -</p> - -<p> -A quarter of an hour of heartrending suspense went by, -after which Messire's footstep was suddenly heard upon -the bridge. He returned alone. The archers and gunners -crowded round him, with the anxious query upon their -lips: 'Pierre?' -</p> - -<p> -No one really cared about Pierre. Messire de Landas -and his gang were not popular in Cambray. But the -incident had been rendered weird and awesome by the darkness -and the bad weather, and Messire's obstinacy in venturing -out so far. -</p> - -<p> -M. de Landas appeared moody and silent. No doubt -he felt responsible for his servant's fate. But he answered -the men's questions quite straightforwardly, more fully -too and with less brusqueness than was his wont when -speaking with subordinates. -</p> - -<p> -'I had my suspicions aroused to-day,' he said, 'by -something which our spies reported to me, that the -Spaniards contemplated one of their famous surprise attacks -under cover of this murky darkness. So I was determined -to venture on the Bapaume Road and see if I could discover -anything. Pierre insisted on coming with me. We kept -our eyes and ears open and crawled along in the ditch on -hands and knees. Suddenly we were fired on without any -warning. I lay low under cover of the ditch, not moving, -hardly breathing, and thought that Pierre was doing -likewise. I heard the Spanish patrols move noiselessly away. -Then I crept out of my hiding-place, almost surprised at -finding myself alive. I called softly to Pierre, but received -no answer; then I groped about for him. Presently I -found him. He had been shot twice—through the -back—and must have died on the instant.' -</p> - -<p> -The story was plausible enough, nor did any one doubt -it. The men cared so little about Pierre, who was -overbearing and surly. But what had actually happened was -vastly different. -</p> - -<p> -It was this—Messire le Marquis de Landas, accompanied -by Pierre, had in truth crossed the bridge, and as soon as -the darkness had swallowed them up, the two men had -walked rapidly along the Bapaume Road, until they were -challenged by a Spanish patrol on duty. Messire gave the -password, and the patrol not only halted but also stood -at attention, for the password which had been given was -one used only by Spanish gentlemen of high rank in the -King's armies. -</p> - -<p> -'You will conduct my servant at once before His Highness -the Duke of Parma,' Messire de Landas said to the man -in command of the patrol. -</p> - -<p> -And to Pierre he added in a whisper: 'All that you -have to do when you see His Highness is to give him this -letter from me and tell him that we are quite prepared -for to-morrow.' -</p> - -<p> -He gave Pierre a letter, then ordered the patrol to fire -a couple of musket-shots. After which, he waited for a -few minutes, and finally returned alone to the city gate. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap21"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXI -<br /><br /> -HOW SOME OF THESE SUCCEEDED -</h3> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -I -</h4> - -<p> -Jacqueline was sitting in the self-same deep -window-embrasure from whence she had listened—oh, so long -ago!—to that song, which would for ever remain for her -the sweetest song on earth: -</p> - -<p class="poem"> - 'Mignonne, allons voir si la rose——'<br /> -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Only a few hours had gone by since she had reached the -sublimal height of ecstatic happiness—only a few hours -since she had tasted the bitter fruit of renunciation. Since -then she had had a good cry, and felt better for it; but -since then also she had encountered a venomous reptile -on her way, and had been polluted by its touch. -</p> - -<p> -Even to suggest that Jacqueline's pure faith in the man -she loved had been troubled by de Landas' insidious -suggestions, would be to wrong her fine and steadfast character. -She did not mistrust her knight; for her he still stood far -above the base calumnies hurled at him by a spiteful rival; -but, somehow, de Landas' venom had succeeded in making -her sorrow more acute, less endurable. Oh! if only she -could have shared with her beloved all his secrets and his -difficulties, if only he had thought her worthy of his entire -trust! -</p> - -<p> -Words which he had spoken ere he finally went away -rang portentously in her ear—ominous words, which she -had not heeded at the moment, for her heart was then over-full -with the misery of that farewell, but which now took on, -despite herself, a menacing and awesome significance. -</p> - -<p> -With frowning brows and hands tightly clasped together, -Jacqueline sat there, motionless, the while memory called -back those words which in very truth did fill her heart with -dread. -</p> - -<p> -'If within the future,' Messire had said, 'aught should -occur to render me odious in your sight, will you at least -remember that, whatever else I may have done that was -unworthy and base, my love for you has been as pure and -sacred as is the love of the lark for the sun.' -</p> - -<p> -He had gone after that—gone before she could ask him -for an explanation of these ununderstandable words, before -she could affirm her perfect faith and trust in him. Then -the memory of them had faded from her ken, merged as it -was in her great, all-embracing sorrow, until the wand of -a devilish magician had brought them forth from out the -ashes of forgetfulness, and she was left more forlorn than -she had been before. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -II -</h4> - -<p> -Monseigneur the governor found her in the late afternoon, -still sitting in the window embrasure, the large, lofty room -in darkness, save for the fitful glow of the fire which was -burning low in the monumental hearth. The patter of -the rain against the window panes made a weird, melancholy -sound, which alone broke the silence that hung upon the -place with an eerie sense of desolation. Monseigneur -shuddered as he entered. -</p> - -<p> -'B-r-r-r!' he exclaimed. 'My dear Jacqueline! I had -no thought that you were moping here all alone—and in -the dark, too!—or I would have been here sooner to cheer -your spirits with my good news.' -</p> - -<p> -'You and your good news are right welcome, Monseigneur,' -responded Jacqueline with a pathetic effort at gaiety. -'I was out in the garden most of the day,' she continued -composedly, 'and was resting for awhile in the gathering -dusk, as this awful weather hath made it impossible to go -out again.' -</p> - -<p> -'Gathering dusk, forsooth!' he retorted. 'Send for -your women, Madame, and order them to bring in the -candles. Light! We want more light, laughter and joy -at this hour! I would I could light a bonfire, to turn the -night into day!' -</p> - -<p> -He was obviously nervy and excited, paced up and down -the room in a state of nerve-tension, very unlike his usual -dignified self. Jacqueline, a little puzzled, obeyed him -promptly. She rang the bell and ordered Nicolle to send -in the candles, and while the women busied themselves -about the room, disposing candelabra upon the tables and -consols, she watched her guardian keenly. He certainly -appeared strangely excited, and now and then he darted -quick, inquiring glances upon her, and when she met those -glances, he smiled as if in triumph. -</p> - -<p> -'Let us sit by the fire, my dear,' he said genially, after -he had dismissed Nicolle and the women with an impatient -gesture. 'I came to see you alone and without ceremony, -because I wished for the selfish pleasure of imparting my -good news to you myself.' -</p> - -<p> -She sat down in the tall chair beside the fire, and -Monseigneur sat opposite to her. She had on a dress of -dark-coloured satin, upon the shiny surface of which the -flickering firelight drew quaint and glowing arabesques. She -rested her elbow on the arm of her chair and leaned her -head against her hand, thus keeping her delicate face in -shadow, lest Monseigneur should note the pallor of her -cheeks and the tear-stains around her eyes. But otherwise -she was quite composed, was able to smile too at his -eagerness and obvious embarrassment. -</p> - -<p> -It was his turn to study her keenly now, and he did so -with evident pleasure. Not so very many years ago he, -too, had been a young gallant, favoured by fortune and not -flint-hearted either where women were concerned. He -had buried two wives, and felt none the worse for that, -and still ready to turn a compliment to a pretty woman, -and to give her the full measure of his admiration. He would -have been less than a man now, if he had withstood the -charm of the pretty picture which his ward presented, in -the harmonious setting of her high-backed chair, and with -the crimson glow of the fire-light turning her fair hair to -living gold. -</p> - -<p> -'Put down your hand, Jacqueline,' he said, 'so that I -may see your pretty face.' -</p> - -<p> -'My head aches sadly, Monseigneur,' she rejoined with a -pathetic little sigh, 'and mine eyes are heavy. 'Tis but -vanity that causes me to hold my hand before my face.' -</p> - -<p> -'Neither headaches nor heavy eyes could mar the beauty -of the fairest lily of Flanders,' he went on with elaborate -gallantry. 'So I pray you humour me, and let me see you -eye to eye.' -</p> - -<p> -She did as he asked, and dropped her hand. Monseigneur -made no remark on her pallor, was obviously too deeply -absorbed in his joyful news to notice her swollen eyes. She -tried to smile, and said lightly: -</p> - -<p> -'And why should Monseigneur desire to see a face, every -line of which he knows by heart?' -</p> - -<p> -He leaned forward in his chair and said slowly, keeping -his eyes fixed upon her: -</p> - -<p> -'Because I wish to behold the future Duchesse d'Anjou -and d'Alençon, the future sister of the King of France!' -</p> - -<p> -She made no reply, but sat quite still, her face turned -toward the fire, presenting the outline of her dainty profile -to the admiring gaze of her guardian. Monseigneur was -silent for a moment or two, was leaning back in his chair -once more, and regarding her with an air of complacency, -which he took no pains to disguise. -</p> - -<p> -'It means the salvation of the Netherlands!' he said -with a deep sigh of satisfaction. 'We can now count on -the whole might of France to rid us of our enemies, and -after that to a long era of prosperity and of religious liberty, -when Madame Jacqueline de Broyart shares with her lord -the Sovereignty of the Netherlands.' -</p> - -<p> -Jacqueline remained silent, her aching eyes fixed in the -hot embers of the fire. So the blow had fallen sooner than -she thought. When, in the arbour, she had made her -profession of faith before her knight, and told him that she -belonged not to herself but to her country, she did not think -that her country would claim her quite so soon. Vaguely -she knew that some day her guardian would dispose of her -hand and fortune, and that she would have to ratify a -bargain made for her person, for the sake of that fair land -of Flanders which was so dear to her. But awhile ago, -all that had seemed so remote; limitless time seemed to -stretch out before her, wherein she could pursue her dreams -of the might-have-been. -</p> - -<p> -Monseigneur's announcement—for it was that—came as -a hammer-blow upon her hopes of peace. She had only -just wakened from her dream, and already the bitter-sweet -boon of memory would be denied to her. Stunned under -the blow, she made no attempt at defiance. With her -heart dead within her, what cared she in the future what -became of her body? Since love was denied her, there -was always the altruistic sentiment of patriotism to comfort -her in her loneliness; and the thought of self-sacrifice on -the altar of her stricken country would, perhaps, compensate -her for that life-long sorrow which was destined to mar her -life. -</p> - -<p> -'No wonder you are silent, Jacqueline,' Monseigneur was -saying, and she heard him speaking as if through a thick -veil which smothered the sound of his voice; 'for to you -this happy news comes as a surprise. Confess that you -never thought your old guardian was capable of negotiating -so brilliant an alliance for you!' -</p> - -<p> -'I knew,' she rejoined quietly, 'that my guardian would -do everything in his power to further the good of our -country.' -</p> - -<p> -'And incidentally to promote your happiness, my dear.' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh!' she said, with an indifferent shrug of the shoulders, -'my happiness is not in question, is it? Else you would not -propose that I should wed a Prince of the House of Valois.' -</p> - -<p> -'I am not so sure,' he replied, with a humorous twinkle -in his old eyes. '<i>Monsieur</i> Duc d'Anjou, is not—or I am -much mistaken—quite the rogue that mischievous rumour -hath painted.' -</p> - -<p> -'Let us hope, for my sake,' she retorted dryly, 'that -rumour hath wronged him in all particulars.' -</p> - -<p> -'In one, at any rate, I'll vouch for that. <i>Monsieur</i> is -more than commonly well-favoured—a handsome figure -of a man, with the air and the voice of a soldier.' -</p> - -<p> -'You know him well?' -</p> - -<p> -'I have seen much of him,' said Monseigneur with an -enigmatic smile, 'these past four weeks.' -</p> - -<p> -'These past four weeks?' she exclaimed. 'But you -have not been out of Cambray.' -</p> - -<p> -'Nor has he,' put in Monseigneur quietly. -</p> - -<p> -She frowned, deeply puzzled. -</p> - -<p> -'<i>Monsieur</i> Duc d'Anjou hath been in Cambray?' she -asked, 'these past four weeks?' -</p> - -<p> -He nodded. -</p> - -<p> -'And I have never seen him?' -</p> - -<p> -'Indeed you have, my dear Jacqueline; on more than -one occasion.' -</p> - -<p> -'Not to my knowledge, then.' -</p> - -<p> -'No. Not to your knowledge.' -</p> - -<p> -'I don't understand,' she murmured. 'Why should so -exalted a prince as the Duc d'Anjou be in Cambray all this -while?' -</p> - -<p> -'Because he desired to woo Madame Jacqueline de -Broyart, duchesse et princesse de Ramèse.' -</p> - -<p> -'Without my knowledge?' -</p> - -<p> -'Without your knowledge—outwardly.' -</p> - -<p> -'What do you mean?' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh! nothing very obscure, my dear; nothing very -remarkable. <i>Monsieur</i> Duc d'Anjou is young—he hath -a romantic turn of mind. He admired you and desired -you in marriage, but chose to woo you—have I not said -that he is romantic?—chose to woo you under a mask.' -</p> - -<p> -She gave a gasp, and quickly put her hand to her mouth -to smother a cry. She sat bolt upright now, her two hands -clutching the arms of her chair, her eyes—wide open, -glowing, scared—fixed upon her guardian. He, obtuse and -matter-of-fact, mistook the gasp and the tense expression -of her face. -</p> - -<p> -'No wonder you are aghast, my dear,' he said cheerily. -'Not unpleasantly, I hope. More than once it seemed to -your old guardian that <i>Monsieur's</i> martial presence was not -altogether distasteful to you. He hath sharper eyes, hath -the old man, than you gave him credit for—what? Ah, -well! I was young too, once, and I still like to bask in the -sunshine of romance. 'Twas a pretty conceit on <i>Monsieur's</i> -part, methinks, to pay his court to you under a disguise—to -win your love by the charm of his personality, ere you -realized the great honour that a Prince of the Royal House -of France was doing to our poor country, by wooing her -fairest maid.' -</p> - -<p> -Monseigneur continued to ramble on in the same strain. -Jacqueline hardly heard what he said. She was striving -with all her might to appear composed, to understand what -the old man was saying, and to reply to him with some -semblance of coherence. Above all, she was striving to -get the mastery over her voice, for presently she would -have to speak, to say something which would shake her -guardian's complacency, open his eyes to the truth, the -whole hideous, abominable truth; without ... without -... Heavens above, this must be a hideous dream! -</p> - -<p> -'It was all arranged with de Montigny, you remember?' -Monseigneur continued, still engrossed in his own rhetoric, -too blind to see that Jacqueline was on the verge of a -collapse. '<i>Monsieur</i> was so fanciful, and we had to give -in to him. We all desired the alliance with our whole -hearts, and Madame la Reyne de Navarre did approve of -our schemes. I must say that de Lalain and I were against -the masquerade at first, but <i>Monsieur's</i> soldierlike -personality soon won our approval. And imagine our joy when -we realized that our dear Jacqueline was not wholly indifferent -to him either. He came to us this afternoon and made -formal demand for your hand in marriage.... So de -Lalain and I have taken measures that our poor people do -have a holiday to-morrow, when Madame Jacqueline de -Broyart, duchesse et princesse de Ramèse, will solemnly -plight her troth to <i>Monsieur</i> Duc d'Anjou. So, my dear -Jacqueline, I entreat you to wear your loveliest gown. -Flanders is proud of her fairest flower. Monsieur desired -to rejoin his armies to-day and leave the ceremony of -betrothal waiting for happier times; but de Lalain and I -would not hear of it. Everything is prepared for a festive -holiday. Of a truth, to-morrow's forenoon will see the -happiest hour which our sadly-afflicted province hath seen -these many years.' -</p> - -<p> -He paused; I think, for want of breath: he certainly -had been talking uninterruptedly for the past ten minutes, -going over the whole ground of de Montigny's mission, -<i>Monsieur's</i> romantic desire and the final demand in marriage, -till Jacqueline could have screamed to him to cease torturing -her. The hideousness of the mystery appalled her: some -dark treachery lurked here somewhere and she was caught -in a net of odious intrigues, out of which for the moment -she could see no issue. A feeling of indescribable horror -came over her—a nameless, unspeakable terror, as in the -face of a yawning, bottomless abyss, on the brink of which -she stood and into which an unseen and mighty hand would -presently hurl her. -</p> - -<p> -Something of that appalling state of mind must have -been reflected in her face, despite the almost superhuman -effort which she made not to allow Monseigneur to guess -at what was going on in her mind; for presently he looked -at her more keenly, and then said gently: -</p> - -<p> -'Jacqueline, my dear, you look so strange. What is it? -Hath my news so gravely startled you?' -</p> - -<p> -She shook her head, and when he reiterated his question, -and leaned forward in order to take her hand, she contrived -to say, moderately calmly, even though every word came -with an effort from her parched throat: -</p> - -<p> -'The man with the mask? ... The Prince de -Froidmont? ... You are sure?' -</p> - -<p> -'Sure of what, my dear?' he riposted. -</p> - -<p> -'That he is the Duc d'Anjou?' -</p> - -<p> -Monseigneur laughed loudly and long, apparently much -relieved. -</p> - -<p> -'Oh! is that what troubles you, my child?' he said -gaily. 'Well then, let me assure you that I am as sure of -that as that I am alive. Why!' he added, evidently much -surprised, 'how could you ask such a funny thing?' -</p> - -<p> -'I did not know,' she murmured vaguely. 'Sometimes -an exalted prince will woo a maid by proxy ... so I -thought...' -</p> - -<p> -But evidently the idea of Jacqueline's doubts greatly -tickled Monseigneur's fancy. -</p> - -<p> -'What a strange conceit, my child!' he said with -condescending indulgence. 'By proxy, forsooth! His -Highness came himself, not more than three days after Messire -de Montigny completed negotiations with him at La Fère. -He desired to remain incognito and chose to lodge in a poor -hostelry; but Madame la Reyne de Navarre begged us in -a letter writ by her own august hand, to make <i>Monsieur</i> -Duc d'Anjou, her dear brother, right welcome in Cambray. -By proxy!' and Monseigneur laughed again, highly amused. -'Why, His Highness was in my study but two hours ago, -and made formal proposal for your hand in marriage!' -</p> - -<p> -Then, as the door behind him was thrown open and old -Nicolle, shuffling in, announced M. le Comte de Lalain, -d'Inchy turned to his old friend and said, highly delighted -with what he regarded as a good joke: -</p> - -<p> -'Ah, my good de Lalain! You could not have come at -a more opportune moment. Here is our ward, so bewildered -at the news that she asks me whether I am sure that it is -truly <i>Monsieur</i> Duc d'Anjou who has been masquerading -as the Prince de Froidmont. Do reassure the child's mind, -I pray you; for in truth she seems quite scared.' -</p> - -<p> -De Lalain, always a great stickler for etiquette, had in -the meanwhile advanced into the room, and was even now -greeting Jacqueline with all the ceremonial prescribed by -Maître Calviac. Then only did he reply soberly: -</p> - -<p> -'Sure, Madame? Of course we are sure! Why, 'tis -not two hours since he was standing before us and asking -for the hand of Madame Jacqueline de Broyart in marriage. -We knelt before him and kissed his hand, and to-morrow -we'll present him to the people as the future Sovereign Lord -of the Netherlands.' -</p> - -<p> -'And so, my dear Jacqueline——' concluded d'Inchy. -But he got no further, gave a loud call to Nicolle and the -women; for Madame had uttered a pitiful moan, slid out -of her chair, and was now lying on the floor in a swoon. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap22"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXII -<br /><br /> -WHILE OTHERS FAILED -</h3> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -I -</h4> - -<p> -Of a truth, Monseigneur the governor was not gravely -perturbed by his ward's sudden attack of faintness. -He knew that women were subject to megrims and sundry -other fancies, and he was willing to admit that in his -excitement he had, perhaps, been too abrupt with her and too -brusque. She had been scared, bewildered, no doubt, and -lost consciousness in her agitation. But old Nicolle had -quickly come to the rescue with restoratives; and with the -prerogative of an old and trusted servant, she had bundled -Monseigneur and Monsieur de Lalain incontinently out of -the room. Madame would soon be well, she said, only -needed rest. She was overwrought and over fatigued with -so many banquets and public functions—such late hours, -too; and Madame not twenty! Young people needed -plenty of sleep, and Madame, after a good and peaceful night, -would be quite well on the morrow. -</p> - -<p> -So Monseigneur, fully reassured, went back to his -apartments and to his own business. There was still a great -deal to be done, a great deal to see to—many people to -interview and many more orders to give, to ensure that -to-morrow's ceremony should be conducted not only with -perfect smoothness, but also that the preparations for it -be concluded with perfect secrecy. -</p> - -<p> -M. de Lalain, d'Inchy's old friend, was an invaluable -helpmate, and de Landas too had for the occasion thrown -off that supercilious manner which he had adopted of late, -and had entered fully into the spirit of the affair. There -was no fear that the wily Valois fox would slip from out -the trap which was being so skilfully laid for him. -</p> - -<p> -Already messengers, dressed in Monseigneur the governor's -livery, were flying all over the town, carrying letters -and sign-manuals. Directly these were delivered, extraordinary -bustle and activity came at once into being in the -official and municipal centres of the city. The Provosts -could be seen, wearing their chain of office and hurrying -to the Town Hall, where they were received by the Chief -Magistrate. Orders and counter-orders flew from one end -of the town to the other, from the Citadel to the Palace and -from Cantimpré to the Château, while, by special command -of M. le Marquis de Landas, the entire garrison, which -manned the forts, was under arms during the whole of that -night. -</p> - -<p> -The humbler folk, scared by this unwonted turmoil, shut -themselves up with their families inside their houses, until -a persistent rumour reassured them that no fresh assault -on the part of the besieging army was expected, but rather -that a happy, joyful and hopeful proclamation would be -made by Monseigneur the governor on the morrow, from the -balcony of the Town Hall. Whereupon fear and trouble -were for the moment put resolutely away. The people -were beginning to suffer so acutely, that they were abjectly -thankful for any ray of hope, which gleamed through the -darkness of their ever-present misery. With the Duke of -Parma's armies at their gates, they were still clinging to -the thought that some mighty Power would take compassion -on them, and come to their rescue with a force strong -enough to inflict a severe defeat upon the Spaniard. They -had not yet reached the final stages of despair. They were -still ready to seize every opportunity for forgetfulness, for -enjoyment even, whenever it was offered or allowed them. -Rumour had been persistent about the help which was -to come from France. Messire de Balagny's presence in -the city had confirmed the hopes which had rested upon -those rumours. Now, with the knowledge that Monseigneur -had a joyful announcement to make, mercurial temperaments -rose for awhile—especially among the young. The older -people had been too often deluded with flowery promises -to believe in any good fortune for their unfortunate city. -They had seen the fate of others—of Mons and of Mechlin -and of Gand. The might of the Spanish armies always -conquered in the end, and the rebellious cities had been -made to suffer untold brutalities, as a punishment for their -heroic resistance. -</p> - -<p> -Fortunately for the morale of Cambray, these older -people, these wiseacres, were still in the minority, and hope -is of all human attributes the strongest and the most -persistent. So, despite the prognostications and fear of -pessimists, people rose early on the following morning, in order -betimes to decorate their houses. Soon after dawn, activities -began; flags were dragged out of old, disused coffers -and hung out of windows and balconies; the women sought, -in their worm-eaten dower chests, for any scraps of finery -that may have survived from the happy olden days, before -their Spanish tyrants had made of this prosperous land a -forlorn wilderness. -</p> - -<p> -By eight o'clock the beleaguered city looked almost gay. -The shops were closed; soldiers paraded the streets; the -city guilds, their masters and their 'prentices, came out -with banners flying, to stand in groups upon the Grand' -Place. If a stranger could have dropped into Cambray -from the skies on that fine April morning, he would of a -truth have doubted if any Spanish army was encamped -around these walls. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -II -</h4> - -<p> -Even Gilles de Crohin, absorbed as he was in his own -affairs, could not fail to notice the generally festive air -which hung about the place. In the quarter where he lodged, -it is true that very little of that holiday mood had found -its way down the narrow streets and into the interior of -squalid houses, where the pinch of cold and hunger had -already made itself insistently felt. But as soon as he was -past the Place aux Bois, he began to wonder what was in -the wind. The populace had been at obvious pains to put -aside for the moment every outward sign of the misery which -it endured. The women had donned their best clothes, -the men no longer hung about at street corners, looking -hungry and gaunt. They did not even scowl in the wake -of the masked stranger, so lately the object of their ire, as -the latter hurried along on his way to the Palace. -</p> - -<p> -And then there were the flags, and the open windows, -the draped balconies and pots of bright-coloured early -tulips—all so different to the dreary, drab appearance which -Cambray had worn of late. -</p> - -<p> -But, nevertheless, Gilles himself would have told you -afterwards that no suspicion of Monseigneur d'Inchy's -intentions crossed his mind. Vaguely he thought that -Messire de Balagny's arrival had been announced to the -townfolk, and that the promise of help from France had -been made the occasion of a public holiday. And he -himself was in too much of a fume to pay serious heed to -anything but his own affairs—to anything, in fact, but his -own departure, which had been so provokingly delayed -until this morning. -</p> - -<p> -And this veracious chronicle has all along put it on record -that Messire Gilles de Crohin was not a man of patience. -Imagine his choler, his fretting rage when, fully prepared -for his journey, mounted upon the same horse which had -brought him into Cambray a month ago, and duly accompanied -by Maître Jehan, who had a pack-horse on the lead, -he had presented himself on the previous afternoon at the -Porte Notre Dame with his original safe-conduct, and was -incontinently refused exit from the city, owing to strict -orders issued by the commandant of the garrison that no -one should be allowed to pass out of the gates under any -pretext whatsoever. -</p> - -<p> -Gilles had argued, persuaded, demanded; but he himself -was too thorough a soldier not to have realized from the -first that every argument would be futile. The captain of -the guard assured him that he could do nothing in the face -of the strict and uncompromising orders which he had -received. Gilles was of course quite certain that some one -had blundered—a mere matter of formality, which -Monseigneur the governor could put right with a stroke of the -pen—but it was obviously not for a subordinate officer to -question his orders, or to take any revision thereto upon -himself; and Gilles, after receiving the captain's courteous -regrets, had no option but to ride away. -</p> - -<p> -It was then six o'clock of the afternoon, and the brilliance -of the early spring day was quickly fading into dusk. A -boisterous wind had sprung up, which brought heavy banks -of cloud along, threatening rain. But, rain or shine, Gilles -had no thought as yet of giving up his purpose. There were -other gates within the city walls, and wrapping his mantle -closely round his shoulders, he gave spur to his horse and -started on a new quest, closely followed by Maître Jehan. -It is on record that he went the round of every gate, armed -with his safe-conduct and with as much patience as he could -muster. Alternately he tried bribery, persuasion, stealth; -but nothing availed. The town garrison was everywhere -under arms; orders had been given, and no one, be he the -highest in the land, was allowed to leave. -</p> - -<p> -Had the matter been vital or the adventure worth the -trial, I doubt not but what Messire would have endeavoured -to get through at all costs—have scaled the city walls, swam -the river, challenged the Spanish lines and run the gauntlet -of archers and gunners, in order to accomplish what he -wanted, if he had wanted it badly. But a few hours' delay -in his journey could make no matter, and truth to tell he -was in no mood for senseless adventure. -</p> - -<p> -In the meanwhile, however, several hours had been wasted -on fruitless errands. It was late evening. The heavy gale -had brought along its due complement of rain. It were -certainly not seemly to disturb Monseigneur the governor -in the Palace at this hour, so Gilles and Jehan returned, -sorely disappointed, to their lodgings, there to spend a -sleepless night, waiting for the first reasonable hour in the -morning wherein Monseigneur the governor might be -expected to transact business. And I can confidently affirm -that no suspicion of what was in contemplation for the -confusion of the fickle Prince, crossed Gilles' mind, as he -lay half the night, staring into the darkness, with the image -of Jacqueline haunting his tortured brain. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -III -</h4> - -<p> -At eight o'clock the next morning, he was once more at -the Archiepiscopal Palace, demanding to see Monseigneur. -Not wishing to challenge any comparison at this eleventh -hour between his two entities, he had elected to present -himself under his disguise and his mask, and to send in a -greeting to Monseigneur with the message that Messire le -Prince de Froidmont desired to speak with him immediately. -</p> - -<p> -But it seems that Monseigneur had been very ill all night -and had not yet risen. A leech was in attendance, who, -ignorant of the true rank of this early visitor, strictly -forbade that the sick man should be disturbed. No doubt -if Messire le Prince de Froidmont would present himself a -couple of hours later—the leech added suavely—Monseigneur -would be prepared to see him. -</p> - -<p> -It was in very truth a trial of patience, and I marvel -how Gilles' temper stood the strain. The fact that he was -a stranger in the city, without a friend, surrounded too by -a goodly number of enemies, may be accountable for his -exemplary patience. Certain it is that he did once again -return to his lodgings, anathematizing in his heart all these -stodgy and procrastinating Flemings, but otherwise calm -and, I repeat, wholly unsuspecting. -</p> - -<p> -At ten o'clock, a runner came to him with a message -that Monseigneur had been unexpectedly summoned to -the Town Hall, but, not wishing to disappoint M. le Prince -de Froidmont, he begged the latter to go forthwith to see -him there. So Gilles left horses and baggage in Maître -Julien's charge and, accompanied by Jehan, he proceeded -on foot to the Town Hall. He had much difficulty in forcing -his way through the crowd, which had become very dense, -especially in and about the Grand' Place. -</p> - -<p> -Gilles, indeed, could not help but notice the festive -appearance of the town, the flags, the flowers, the banners -of the guilds. Above all, the good-humour of the crowd -was in such strange contrast to their habitual surliness. -Instead of uttering insults against the masked stranger, -as he jostled them with his elbows and a rapid 'By your -leave!' they chaffed and teased him, laughed and joked -among themselves in perfect good-humour. -</p> - -<p> -In and about the Town Hall there was a large concourse -of people, city fathers and high dignitaries in official attire. -The perron steps were decorated with huge pots of Dutch -earthenware, placed at intervals all the way up as far as -the entrance doors and filled with sheaves of white Madonna -lilies, produced at great cost at this season of the year in -the hothouses of the Archiepiscopal Palace. Pots containing -the same priceless flowers could also be seen up on the -huge balcony above the entrance, and showing through the -interstices of the stonework of the splendid balustrade. -There was also a guard of honour—halbardiers in their -gorgeous attire—who lined the hall and the grand staircase -as far as the upper floor. -</p> - -<p> -When Gilles appeared outside the huge entrance gates, -an usher in sober black came forward from some hidden -corner of the hall, and approached him with marked -deference. Monseigneur the governor had given orders that -directly M. le Prince de Froidmont presented himself at -the Town Hall he was to be shown up to the Council Room. -</p> - -<p> -Gilles, having ordered Jehan to wait for him below, -followed the usher up the grand staircase, noting with -the first gleam of suspicious surprise that the guard -presented arms as he went by. -</p> - -<p> -But even then he did not guess. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -IV -</h4> - -<p> -The Council Room was crowded when Gilles entered. -At first he felt quite dazed. The whole scene was so -ununderstandable, so different to what he had expected. He had -thought of finding Monseigneur the governor alone in a -small apartment; and here he was ushered into a magnificent -hall, harmoniously ornamented with priceless Flemish -tapestry above the rich carving of the wainscoting. The -hall was crowded with men, some of whom he had vaguely -seen on the night of the banquet at the Archiepiscopal -Palace. There was the Chief Magistrate, a venerable old -man, gorgeously decorated with a massive gold chain and -other insignia of authority; there were the Mayors of the -City guilds, each recognizable by their robes of state and -the emblems of their trades; there were the Provosts and -the Captains of the guard and the Chiefs of the Guild of -Archers, with their crimson sashes, and there was also -Monseigneur the governor, looking more pompous and solemn -than he had ever done before. -</p> - -<p> -Gilles was once more deeply thankful for the mask which -covered his face, together with its expression of boundless -astonishment, amounting to consternation, which must -inevitably have betrayed him. Already he would have -retreated if he could; but even as the swift thought crossed -his mind, the ushers closed the doors behind him, the guard -fell in, and he was—there was no mistaking it—a virtual -prisoner. -</p> - -<p> -Dressed for the journey, booted and spurred, with leather -jerkin and heavy belt, he stood for a moment, isolated, at -the end of the room, a magnificent and picturesque figure, -mysterious and defiant—yes, defiant! For he knew in -one instant that he had been trapped and that he, the -gambler, had been set to play a losing game. -</p> - -<p> -His quick, keen glance swept over the dignified assembly. -Monseigneur, in the centre, was advancing to greet him, -bowing almost to the ground in the excess of his deference. -Every head was bared, the captains of the guard had drawn -their swords and held them up to the salute. Through the -wide-open, monumental windows, the pale April sun came -peeping in, throwing a glint of gold upon the rich robes of -the Provosts and the Mayors. A murmur of respectful -greeting went round the room, followed immediately by -loud and prolonged cheering; and Gilles—suddenly alive -to the whole situation—took his plumed hat from off his -head and, with a splendidly insolent gesture, made a sweeping -bow to the assembled dignitaries. His life, his honour, -his safety, were hanging by a thread. He stood like a -trapped beast before a number of men who anon would be -clamouring perhaps for his blood; but the whole situation -suddenly struck him as so boundlessly humorous, the -solemnity of all these worthy Flemings would presently -be so completely ruffled, that Gilles forgot the danger he -was in, the precariousness of the position in which he stood, -only to remember its entirely ludicrous aspect. -</p> - -<p> -'Long live His Highness le Duc d'Anjou et d'Alençon!' -came in rousing cheers, which woke the echoes of the old -Town Hall. -</p> - -<p> -And outside, on the Grand' Place, the people heard the -cheering. They did not know yet what it was about, but -they had come out on this fine April morning to enjoy -themselves, to forget their troubles, their danger, their -miseries; and when they heard the cheering, they responded -with full throat and heart, and acclaimed not what they -knew but what they hoped. -</p> - -<p> -'You have beaten me, Messire,' Gilles said in a -good-humoured whisper to Monseigneur the governor, as the -latter bent one knee to the ground and kissed the gracious -hand of the Valois Prince. 'Never was game so skilfully -trapped! All my compliments, Messire. You are a -born——' 'liar' he would have said, but checked himself -just in time and used the smoother word—'diplomatist.' -</p> - -<p> -'Your Highness will not grudge us our little ruse,' d'Inchy -riposted under his breath with a suave smile. 'It is all -for your glorification and the exaltation of our promised -union with France.' -</p> - -<p> -'Take care, Messire!' retorted Gilles, 'that your want -of trust in me doth not receive the punishment it -deserves.' -</p> - -<p> -He had still the thought that he might run away. The -only time in the whole course of his life that Gilles de Crohin -had the desire to show a clean pair of heels to the enemy! -If he could only have seen the slightest chance of getting -away, he would have taken it—through door or window, -up the chimney or the side of a house—any way, in fact, -out of this abominable trap which these astute Flemings -had so skilfully laid for him. And this, despite the fact -that he had spied his arch-enemy, de Landas, at the far -end of the room—de Landas, who was gazing on him, not -only in mockery but also in triumph. -</p> - -<p> -Nevertheless, Gilles was ready to turn his back even on -de Landas—anything, anything, in fact, to get away; for -the situation, besides being ludicrous, was tragic too, and -desperate. One false move on his part, one unconsidered -word, and the whole fabric of Madame la Reyne's schemes -would totter to the ground. He seemed to see her now, -with her gracious hand extended towards him and the tears -streaming down her cheeks, while she said with solemn -earnestness: 'When a prince of the house of Valois breaks -his word, the shame of it bears upon us all!' He seemed -to see himself with his hand upon the crosshilt of his sword, -swearing by all that he held most sacred and most dear -that he would see this business through to the end. Indeed, -the end was in sight, and he felt like a soldier who has -been left all alone to defend a citadel and ordered to hold -it at all costs. -</p> - -<p> -That citadel was the honour of France. -</p> - -<p> -And the soldier-nature in him not only refused to give -in, but at this supreme hour rejoiced in the task. He -<i>would</i> hold on at all costs for the honour of <i>Monsieur</i>, his -master; but, above all, for the honour of France. If -contumely, disgrace or shame was to fall, in consequence -of this gigantic hoax, then it must fall entirely on -him—Gilles de Crohin, the penniless adventurer—not upon a -Prince of the Royal House of France. Either he would be -able to extricate himself from this desperate position with -the mask still upon his face and <i>Monsieur's</i> secret still -inviolate before these assembled Flemings, or the whole -burden of knavery and imposture must fall upon him -alone—the shameless rogue who had impersonated his master -for some unavowable purpose, and perpetrated this impudent -fraud for the sake of some paltry gain. -</p> - -<p> -It only took him a few seconds thus to pass the whole -situation, present and future, in a brief review before his -mind. Having done it, he felt stronger and keener for the -fight and ready for any eventuality. The honour of -France!—and he left here to guard it! ... Ye gods! but he felt -prouder than any king! Contumely, disgrace, exposure, -an ignominious flight—mayhap a shameful death. Bah! what -mattered anything so long as the honour of France -and of her Royal House remained untarnished before the -world? -</p> - -<p> -Fortunately Jacqueline was not here! Perhaps she would -not come! Perhaps these wily fools, when they had set -their trap, had left her out of their reckoning. In which -case, all might be well; the chances of exposure remained -remote. A little more impudence, a brief half-hour still -of this abominable rôle, and the curtain must fall at last -upon the farcical tragedy and he, Gilles, would be free to -become an honest man once more. -</p> - -<p> -A little luck!! And, remember that he was a gambler, -and staking his all upon the last throw! -</p> - -<p> -And as, one by one, the city dignitaries came up to be -presented by the governor to His Highness, and as the -minutes sped away, hope once more knocked at the -gateway of the adventurer's heart. One by one they came, -these solemn Flemings. They bent the knee and kissed -the hand of the Prince who was to be their Sovereign Lord. -And some of them were old and others very rheumatic; -most of them appeared to Gilles highly ridiculous in this -homage rendered to an impostor. The desire to laugh aloud -became positive torture after awhile, and yet nothing but -self-possession <i>could</i> carry the day, now that every second -rendered Gilles' position more hopeful. -</p> - -<p> -For still Jacqueline did not come! Jacqueline! the only -person inside this city who could betray him, and she the -one being in the entire world before whom he would have -wished to remain deserving and unimpeached. She of a -truth would know him amongst a thousand; her loving, -searching eyes would laugh at masks and disguises! Her -finger alone could, at sight of him, point at him with scorn; -her voice, like that of an avenging angel, could be raised -against him, saying: -</p> - -<p> -'That man is a liar and a cheat! He is not the Duc -d'Anjou!' -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -V -</h4> - -<p> -Monseigneur the governor acted throughout as the Master -of Ceremonies. Obsequious and suave, he seemed to have -no wish save to please His Highness in all things, and to -make him forget the want of trust that the present ceremony -implied. He hovered round Gilles, executing a manoeuvre -which the latter was certainly too guileless to notice. It -was a case of: 'On this side, I entreat Your Highness!' -and 'Here is Messire de Haynin, who craves the honour...' -or 'If Your Highness would deign to speak with Messire -d'Anthoin.' All very subtle and unnoticeable, but it meant -that every time a city father came to kiss hands, Gilles, in -order to greet him, had to take a step or two forward, and -that each step brought him a trifle nearer to the open window. -That window gave directly on La Bretèque, the vast terrace-like -balcony which overlooked the Grand' Place and which -had so often been the scene of historic proclamations. -Suddenly Gilles found himself there, in the open, with a -huge concourse of people down below at his feet. -</p> - -<p> -He had Monseigneur the governor on his left, and the -company of city fathers and dignitaries had followed him -out on La Bretèque. They were standing in a compact -group around him; and all down the length of the balcony, -at the foot of the balustrade, there were huge pots filled with -those Madonna lilies, which seemed like the very emblem -of Jacqueline. -</p> - -<p> -Time had gone on; the crowd had cheered at sight of -him, and Gilles had gradually been lulled into a semblance -of security. Then suddenly, from the far end of the -balcony, some fifty paces away, there came the sound of an -usher's voice calling in stentorian tones: -</p> - -<p> -'Make room for Madame Jacqueline de Broyart, Duchesse -et Princesse de Ramèse, d'Espienne et de Wargny! Make -room!' -</p> - -<p> -And down the vista of the long terrace, he caught sight -of Jacqueline advancing towards him between the avenue -of lilies. She was dressed in a white satin gown, and she -had pearls round her neck and in her hair. The April -sun fell full upon her, and the soft breeze blew the tendrils -of her hair, like strands of gold, about her face. With a -sinking of the heart, Gilles saw that she walked with a weary -and listless step; but she held herself very erect, with head -slightly thrown back, looking straight out before her as -she came. A mask of black satin hid her face, but even -though he could not see those heavenly blue eyes of hers, -Gilles had realized in a moment that his beloved knew -everything. -</p> - -<p> -An access of wellnigh savage rage sent the hot blood -up to his head. For the space of one second everything -around him took on a blood-red hue, and he turned on -d'Inchy with convulsed fingers, prepared to grip him by -the throat. Already the cry 'You miserable scoundrel!' -hovered on his lips.... Then he checked himself. What -was the good? D'Inchy had acted rightly, in accordance -with his own lights. He wished to make sure that the -Valois Prince, who had broken so many promises in his -life, should at least on this one occasion be irrevocably -fettered. The assembled dignitaries, the crowd down below, -the whole city of Cambray should witness the solemn -plighting of his troth. And Jacqueline—the unfortunate, -innocent pawn in all these intrigues—should be the one whose -weak, small hands would hold him indissolubly to his bond. -</p> - -<p> -There was a moment of tense silence. Gilles could hear -his own heart beating in his breast. He had of a truth -ceased to feel and to think. The situation was so hopeless -now, so stupendous, that it was beyond human power to -grapple with. He hardly felt that he was alive; a kind -of greyish veil had interposed itself between his eyes and -that group of solemn Flemish worthies around him. And -through that veil he could see their podgy faces, red and -round, and grinning at him with great cavern-like mouths, -and eyes that darted fierce flames upon him. Of a truth, -he thought that he was going mad, had a wild desire to -throw back his head and to laugh—laugh loudly and long; -laugh for ever at the discomfiture of some fool who was -standing there in his—Gilles de Crohin's—shoes; at that -fool who had thought to carry through a long farce unchecked, -and who presently would be unmasked by the very woman -whom he loved, and driven forth under opprobrium and -ignominy into an outer world, where he could never look -an honest man in the face again. -</p> - -<p> -Perhaps he would have laughed—for the muscles round -his mouth were itching till they ached—only that, just -then, in the very midst of the crowd below, he caught sight -of de Landas' mocking glance—de Landas, who had been -in the Council Room awhile ago, and who apparently had -since mixed with the crowd for the sole purpose of -witnessing his successful rival's discomfiture. This seemed to -stiffen him suddenly, to drag him back from out that -whirlpool of wild sensations wherein he was floundering, and -which was bowling him along, straight to dementia. -</p> - -<p> -'No, my friend Gilles!' he said to himself. 'Since -you are to die dishonoured, at least die like a man. Not -before all these people; not before that man who hates -you, not before that woman who loves you, shall you flinch -in the face of Destiny. You have played many ignoble -parts these days; do not now play that of a coward!' -</p> - -<p> -And he stood quietly there, still picturesque and magnificent, -still defying Fate which had played him this last, -desperate trick, while Monseigneur advanced to Jacqueline, -took her hand and said aloud in measured tones of ceremony, -so that every one there might hear: -</p> - -<p> -'My dear Jacqueline, it is with inexpressible joy that -mine old eyes behold this happy hour. <i>Monsieur</i> Duc -d'Anjou et d'Alençon, Prince of the House of France, hath -asked your hand in marriage. We, your guardians, do -but await your consent to this union which we had planned -for the great good of our beloved country. Say the word, -my dear Jacqueline, and I myself will proclaim to our poor, -sorrowing people the joyful news that a Liberator hath come -to them at last, and that the United Provinces of the -Netherlands may look to him as their Sovereign Lord and -King.' -</p> - -<p> -Jacqueline had listened to Monseigneur's peroration with -perfect composure. She stood then not ten paces away -from Gilles—the only woman in the midst of all these men -who were gambling with her destiny. Through her mask -she was looking on Gilles, and on him only, feeling that -the whole abyss of loathing, which filled her soul for him, -would be conveyed to him through her look. -</p> - -<p> -She had believed in him so completely, trusted him so -implicitly, that now that she knew him to be both a liar -and a cheat, she felt that the very well-spring of her love -had turned to bitter hate. And hate in a strong and sensitive -nature is at least as potent as love. What the mystery -was wherewith he chose to surround himself, she did not -know. What the object of the hideous comedy which he -had played could be, she hardly cared. All that she knew -was that he had cheated her and played her false, stolen -her love from her to suit some political intrigue of which he -held the threads—helped in any case in a hideous and clumsy -deception which would leave her for ever shamed. -</p> - -<p> -But now she knew just what she had to do. She might -have unmasked the deception last night, told Monseigneur -the truth and opened his eyes to the stupid fraud that was -perpetrated upon him. What stopped her from doing that -she did not know. Perhaps she still hoped that something -would occur that would give a simple explanation of the -difficult puzzle. Perhaps she thought that when she would -be brought face to face with the man who was impersonating -the Duc d'Anjou, that man would prove to be some low -impostor, but not her knight—not the man who had held -her in his arms and sworn that his love for her was as -pure as that of the lark for the sun. And if, indeed, she -had been so hideously deceived, if her idol prove to have -not only feet of clay but heart of stone and soul of darkness, -then she would unmask him, publicly, daringly, before the -entire people of Cambray, humiliate him so utterly that his -very name would become a by-word for all that was -ignominious and base, and find some solace for her misery in -the satisfaction of seeing him brought to shame. -</p> - -<p> -Therefore Jacqueline had said nothing last night to -Monseigneur—nothing this morning. When requested by her -guardian to prepare for this day's ceremony, she had obeyed -without a word. Now she listened to his speech until the -end. After which, she said calmly: -</p> - -<p> -'Like yourself, Monseigneur, I am covered with confusion -at thought of the great honour which a Prince of the House -of France will do to our poor country. I would wish, with -your permission, to express my deep respect for him ere I -place my hand in his.' -</p> - -<p> -Whereupon Monseigneur stood a little to one side, so -that Jacqueline and Gilles remained directly facing one -another. Every one was watching the young pair, and -kindly murmurs of approval at the beauty of the girl, and -the martial bearing of the man, flew from mouth to mouth. -</p> - -<p> -Jacqueline, stately and dignified as was her wont, advanced -a step or two. Then she said slowly: -</p> - -<p> -'And is it of a truth <i>Monsieur</i> Duc d'Anjou et d'Alençon -who stands before me now?' -</p> - -<p> -She looked straight at him, and he in imagination saw -beneath the mask which hid the expression of her face—saw -those blue eyes which had looked on him yesterday -with such ineffable tenderness; saw those exquisite lips -which had murmured words of infinite love. An utter -loathing overcame him of the part which he had to play, -of the fraud which was to deliver his beloved into the -keeping of a worthless reprobate. He was conscious only -of a wild desire to throw himself at her feet in an agony -of remorse and repentance, to kiss her gown, the tips of -her velvet shoes; and then to proclaim the truth, to put -it for ever out of that profligate Prince's power to claim -this exquisite woman as his bride—to proclaim the truth, -and then to run away like a second Cain, from the scene -of an unforgivable crime; to flee like the treacherous -soldier who hath deserted the citadel; to flee, leaving behind -him the tattered rag of France's honour lying for ever soiled -in the dust, beneath the feet of a duped and credulous -nation. -</p> - -<p> -Just then she put out her hand—that perfect hand, -which he had held in his and which to his touch had seemed -like the petal of a flower, and she said, with the same solemn -deliberation: -</p> - -<p> -'Is it in truth to the Duc d'Anjou himself that I herewith -plight my troth?' -</p> - -<p> -The avowal was on Gilles' lips. -</p> - -<p> -'Madame——' he began, and looked unflinchingly, -straightforwardly at her. -</p> - -<p> -But before he could speak another word, a cry suddenly -rang out—shrill and terrifying—out of the crowd. -</p> - -<p> -'Do not touch him, Madame! Do not touch him! -He is not the Duc d'Anjou! He is an impostor and a liar! -A Spanish spy! Beware!!' -</p> - -<p> -Monseigneur, the city fathers, the Mayor—every one on -La Bretèque, in fact—gasped with horror. How dared -these abominable agitators mar the beauty of this affecting -ceremony? Monseigneur went forward, leaned over the -balustrade in order to try and ascertain who it was who -was trying to create a disturbance. He saw de Landas -down below in the midst of the throng, vaguely wondered -what the young commandant was doing there, when his -place was up on La Bretèque amongst those of his own -rank. Anyway, he spoke to de Landas, shouted himself -hoarse to make the young man hear, for an unpleasant -turmoil had followed that first cry of 'Spanish spy'—people -were shouting and gesticulating and the call 'Down with -him!' came repeatedly from several points in the rear of -the crowd. -</p> - -<p> -De Landas looked up, but he pretended not to hear, -laughed and shrugged his shoulders, as if the matter did -not concern him. And yet there was no mistaking the -persistence with which that ominous cry 'Spanish spy!' -was taken up again and again, nor the disturbing effect -which it had upon the crowd. -</p> - -<p> -Monseigneur then tried to harangue the mob, to point -out to them the evil of their ways. Had they forgotten -that they were out to enjoy themselves, to forget their -troubles, to forget the very fact that the words 'Spaniard' -and 'Spanish' existed in their lexicon. But Messire de -Landas' paid agents would not let him speak. They had -been paid to create a disturbance, not to let the people stand -about placidly, listening to windy harangues. -</p> - -<p> -So, the moment Monseigneur opened his mouth, the whole -gang of them took up the provocative cry: 'A Spanish -spy! Take care, Madame Jacqueline!' until it was -repeated over and over again by numberless voices, hoarse -with excitement and with spite. The crowd oscillated as -if driven by a sudden blast; ominous murmurs came from -those points where women and men stood in compact and -sullen groups. -</p> - -<p> -'Spanish spy! Beware!' rang out again and again. -</p> - -<p> -Monseigneur the governor was in a wild state of agitation. -He could not understand what it was that had set some -rowdy malcontents to disturb the peaceful serenity of this -eventful morning. Unable to make himself heard, he turned -in helpless bewilderment to Gilles. -</p> - -<p> -'Monseigneur,' he began, in a voice quivering with -consternation. 'I do entreat you...' -</p> - -<p> -But he got no further. Above this peroration, above -the shuffling and the mutterings of his friends on the -balcony, above the cries and murmurs down below, there had -suddenly resounded the dull boom of distant cannon. The -crowd gave one terrific, full-throated roar of terror: -</p> - -<p> -'The Spaniards! They are on us!' -</p> - -<p> -And in the seething mass of humanity on the Grand' -Place could be seen just that awful, ominous swaying which -precedes a stampede. Already the women screamed and -some men shouted: 'Sauve qui peut!' -</p> - -<p> -'The Spanish spy!' cried a voice. 'What did I tell -you, citizens? He hath taken advantage of this holiday -to bring the Spaniards about your ears!' -</p> - -<p> -Now the swaying of the crowd became like a tidal wave -upon the bosom of the ocean. Hundreds of men and women -and little children started to move, not in one direction -but in several, like frightened sheep who know not whither -to go. Yells and screams, some of rage others of terror, -rose in a wild tumult from below. And through it all a few -persistent voices—recognizable by the well-known guttural -tone peculiar to those of Spanish blood—shouted themselves -hoarse with the persistent cry: 'The Spaniards are on us! -We are betrayed!' -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -VI -</h4> - -<p> -Monseigneur the governor, unable to make himself heard, -helpless and gravely perturbed, hurried into the Council -Room, and after him trooped the city fathers like a flock -of scared hens. Confusion at once reigned inside the Town -Hall as much as out on the Place—a confusion that could -be felt rather than heard, a dull murmur of voices, a -scurrying and pattering of feet. -</p> - -<p> -Once more the cannon roared, and the weird sound was -followed by a prolonged volley of musket shot. -</p> - -<p> -'They are on us! Sauve qui peut!' -</p> - -<p> -Then, suddenly, far away in the direction of Cantimpré, -a huge column of smoke rose to the sky. It was immediately -followed by a stupendous report which literally shook the -ground beneath the feet of this terror-stricken mass of -humanity. A shower of broken glass fell at several points -with a loud clatter on to the pavements below, and in -absolutely wild and unreasoning terror, the crowd began to push -and to jostle, to drive, and shove, and batter anything or -any one that came in the way. Men and women in their -terror had become like a herd of stampeding beasts, tearing -at every obstacle, hurling maledictions and missiles, fighting, -pushing, to get back to their homes, hammering at doors -that had already been hastily barred and bolted, by those -who happened to have found shelter inside the houses close -by. -</p> - -<p> -'They are on us! Sauve qui peut!' -</p> - -<p> -This time it was a company of the city guard, who came -running helter-skelter from the direction of the Citadel, -halbertmen and pikemen, most of them unarmed, others -with their steel bonnets set awry upon their heads, not a -few leaving a trail of blood behind them as they ran. -</p> - -<p> -'Sauve qui peut!' The deathly call of the runaway -soldier, the most awesome sound the ear of man can hear. -And over from St. Géry came others running too, the archers -from Notre Dame, and on the right there were the gunners -from Seille. They were running; like hunted deer, swiftly, -panting, their jerkins torn, the slashings of their doublets -hanging on them in strips. -</p> - -<p> -They added the final horrible note of hopelessness to -the terror and the confusion. From every corner of the -city there rose cries of distress, shrill screams from women -and children, loud curses from the men. The very air -was filled with these dismal sounds, whilst the Unseen -which was happening somewhere upon the ramparts of -the city, appeared vastly more terrifying than the Seen. -</p> - -<p> -And, far away, the cannon still roared and columns of -fire and smoke rose with lurid significance to the sky. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -VII -</h4> - -<p> -And yet it had all occurred within a very few minutes. -Gilles and Jacqueline were left alone now on La Bretèque, -and neither of them had thought of fleeing. For each of -them the awesome moment was just a pause wherein their -minds faced the only important problem—how to help -and what to do, singly, against that terrible tide. -</p> - -<p> -It was just a moment—the space, perhaps, of a dozen -heart-beats. All around them the turbulent passions of -men—fear, enmity, greed—were raging in all their unbridled -frenzy. The cannons roared, the walls of the ancient city -tottered; but they stood in a world apart, he—the man -who unknowingly had played so ignominious a part—and -she, the woman whom he had so heinously wronged. He -tried to read her innermost thoughts behind that forbidding -mask, and a mad appeal to her for forgiveness rose, even -at this supreme instant, to his lips. -</p> - -<p> -But the appeal was never made. The man's feelings, -his grief, his shame were all swept aside by the stirring of -the soldier's soul. It was the moment when first the cannon -roared and the runaway guard came running through the -streets, Gilles saw them long before they had reached -the Grand' Place. He realized what it all meant, saw the -unutterable confusion and panic which would inevitably -render the city an easy prey to the invader. He gave a -cry of horror and dismay. -</p> - -<p> -'My God! but 'tis black treachery that has been at -work this day!' he exclaimed involuntarily. -</p> - -<p> -She had not yet seen the runaway guard, did not perhaps -for the moment realize the utter imminence of the peril. -Her mind was still busy with the difficult problem—how to -help, what to do. But his involuntary cry suddenly roused -her ire and her bitter disillusionment. -</p> - -<p> -'You should know Messire,' she retorted. 'You are -well versed in the art.' -</p> - -<p> -'God forgive me, I am!' he ejaculated ruefully. 'But -this!' he added with a smothered oath, and pointed down -to the panic-stricken soldiers. 'This! ... Oh, my God! -Your safety, your precious life at stake! You'll not believe, -Jacqueline,' he pleaded, 'that I had a hand in selling your -city to your enemies?' -</p> - -<p> -'In selling the city!' The words appeared to have -whipped up her spirit as with a lash. She looked at him, -wrathfully, boldly, with a still unspoken challenge lurking -in her eyes. 'You do not believe that——' -</p> - -<p> -'That traitors have engineered her perdition?' he broke -in rapidly. 'I do!' -</p> - -<p> -'But——' -</p> - -<p> -'The disturbance in the crowd ... the panic ... the -deserters ... those abominable agitators! In a few hours -the Spaniards will be inside the city—and Cambray lost!' -</p> - -<p> -'Cambray lost! Impossible!' -</p> - -<p> -'With no discipline, no leaders.... She cannot -resist——' -</p> - -<p> -'Then you must lead her,' she said firmly. -</p> - -<p> -'I?' -</p> - -<p> -'Yes! You!' -</p> - -<p> -She had taken the mask from off her face and confronted -him now with a glowing challenge in her eyes. -</p> - -<p> -'You!' she reiterated, speaking very rapidly. 'Whoever -you are, save Cambray ... defend her ... save -her! I know that you can.' -</p> - -<p> -In the look which she gave him he read something which -filled his very soul with rapture. He gave her back glance -for glance, worship for this trust. -</p> - -<p> -'I can at any rate die for her,' he said quietly. 'If -you, ma donna, will forgive.' -</p> - -<p> -'Save Cambray,' she reiterated with superb confidence, -'and I'll forgive everything!' -</p> - -<p> -'Then may God have you in His keeping,' he called to -her. And, before she could realize what was in his purpose, -he had climbed to the top of the tall balustrade, stood for -one moment there high above her, silhouetted against the -clear blue of the sky, like a living statue of youth and -enthusiasm and springtide, animated by that faith which -moveth mountains and sets out to conquer the world in -order to lay it at the loved one's feet. -</p> - -<p> -'Jehan!' he called. 'À moi!' -</p> - -<p> -Then, swinging himself with the easy grace of perfect -strength, he jumped down on to the perron below. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap23"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXIII -<br /><br /> -WHILE TRAITORS ARE AT WORK -</h3> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -I -</h4> - -<p> -And now, I pray you think of Jacqueline running to -the balustrade and, with glowing eyes looking over -the stonework upon the perron beneath her. Jehan has -caught his master as the latter touches the ground, and -for the space of two or three seconds the two men stand -at the top of the steps, locked in each other's arms, steadying -one another. During those few seconds Messire whispers -hurriedly in his faithful henchman's ears: -</p> - -<p> -'De Balagny's troops from La Fère ... at all costs.... -Understand?' -</p> - -<p> -Jehan nods. -</p> - -<p> -'Tell them to attack from the Bapaume Road, with as -much clatter and shouting as may be. We'll hold on till -they come. Go!' -</p> - -<p> -He waits another few seconds until he sees Jehan's burly -form disappear through the throng, then with a loud call, -'À moi! all you citizens of Cambray who are not cowards -and traitors!' he draws his sword and faces the crowd. -</p> - -<p> -He has a clear and resonant voice, which rises above the -tumult. The panic-stricken throng of men and women -pause mechanically in their unconsidered flight, to look -on that strange apparition on the perron steps—strange, -in truth; for towering up there, he looks preternaturally -tall, and the black mask on his face gives him an air of -mystery. -</p> - -<p> -'Citizens of Cambray,' he continues lustily. 'The -Spaniard is at your gate! Are you going to let the traitors -have their day?' -</p> - -<p> -The crowd sways towards him. Frightened as every one -is, there is a momentary lull in the wild stampede, while -scared, wide-eyed, pallid faces are turned towards the -stranger. The runaway soldiers, too, pause, in their -headlong rush. A company of pikemen stand in a compact -group on the edge of the crowd, some fifty paces away from -Gilles. Their captain, bonnetless, with tattered jerkin and -face streaming with sweat, is in their midst. Messire sees -him, and shouts to him with all his might. -</p> - -<p> -'Captain of the guard, Cambray is in peril! What are -you doing here?' -</p> - -<p> -The man evidently wavers; he looks shamed and overcome, -tries to hide himself behind his subordinates. But -some one close at his elbow—Jacqueline cannot see who it -is—appears to egg him on, and after an instant's hesitation -he says sullenly: -</p> - -<p> -'The Spaniards are on us, and——' -</p> - -<p> -'Then why are you not on the Spaniards?' retorts Gilles. -</p> - -<p> -'They have made a breach at Cantimpré.' -</p> - -<p> -'Then where are your counter-mines?' -</p> - -<p> -'Under the bastion.' -</p> - -<p> -'Did you fire them?' -</p> - -<p> -'No. The whole fort is crumbling already. It would -tumble about our ears.' -</p> - -<p> -'Then why are you not at the breach to make a rampart -of your body?' -</p> - -<p> -Again the man wavers. He is a soldier and a tried one, -appears bewildered at his own act of treachery. It seemed -at the time as if some one—some devil—had put cowardice -into his heart at the very moment when courage and presence -of mind were most urgently needed. The men, too, had -faltered, broken most unexpectedly at the first assault, -throwing down their arms. Even the gunners.... But -it wouldn't bear thinking of. In truth, some devil had -been at work, is at work now; for when the men and the -captain, already stirred by Gilles' enthusiasm, looking -ashamed and crestfallen, are on the point of cheering, a -peremptory voice, laden with spite, rises from somewhere -in the rear. -</p> - -<p> -'Captain of the guard! I forbid you to listen to this -man! He is a cheat and an impostor!' -</p> - -<p> -It is de Landas, who, hidden at the back of the crowd, -has seen Gilles jump down from the balcony, and scenting -danger to his infamous scheme, has been at pains to force -his way to the forefront of the mob. It has taken him some -time and vigorous play of the elbows, for the crowd has -become interested in the masked stranger—in the man whom -they had nearly murdered twenty-four hours ago, but whose -appearance and words to-day are distinctly inspiriting and -reassuring. -</p> - -<p> -De Landas has one of his favourite familiars with him—the -Fleming, Maarege—and together the two men stand -now, commanding and arrogant, in front of the soldiers -and their captain. And they, recognizing the chief -commandant of the garrison, are once more panic-stricken and -dumb. Vague ideas of discipline and punishment, to which -the young Spaniard had accustomed them, check their -enthusiasm for the stranger. -</p> - -<p> -Now de Landas has taken a step or two nearer to the -captain of the guard. His eyes are aflame with fury, and -his whole attitude is one of authority and of menace. -</p> - -<p> -'If you dare parley with this man,' he says savagely, -'you will answer for it with your life. The Spanish armies -are at your gates; in a few hours they will be in this city. -Your only hope of pardon for yourself, for your wife, your -children and your kindred, lies in complete and immediate -surrender to the will of His Majesty the King of Spain, my -master and yours!' -</p> - -<p> -'To hell with the King of Spain, your master!' Gilles' -stentorian voice breaks in from above. 'Soldiers of -Cambray!' he continues lustily, 'You have nothing to fear -from the King of Spain, or from any of his minions! 'Tis -you who will punish them for all their past insolence! You -who will dictate to them the terms of victory!' -</p> - -<p> -'You miserable varlet!' exclaims de Landas, and turns -on Gilles with unbridled savagery. 'How dare you raise -your voice when the King of Spain speaks through my -lips? How dare you speak to all these besotted fools of -victory, when in submission lies their only chance of safety? -Fools!' he goes on, and turns once more to the crowd. -'Self-deluded dupes! Do you not feel the might of Spain -closing in upon you? Surrender, I say! Submit! You -are wretched and starved and weak. You cannot defend -yourselves, and no one will come to your aid.' -</p> - -<p> -'Then do I proclaim you a liar, M. de Landas!' is -Gilles' firm retort. 'The armies of France are on their -way for the relief of Cambray, even at this hour.' -</p> - -<p> -'It is false!' -</p> - -<p> -'True as I live. True as that you are a miserable traitor! -True as there is a Heaven above us and as there are angels -who visit this earth. Citizens of Cambray, I swear to you -that the army of the King of France will be outside your -city before the April sun that smiles upon your valour has -sunk down to rest. So give a cheer for France, citizens of -Cambray! France, your deliverer and friend!' -</p> - -<p> -His sally is greeted with a gigantic outburst of -cheering. -</p> - -<p> -'France! France!' -</p> - -<p> -The crowd has listened spellbound while the masked -stranger bandied words with that bastard Spaniard, whom -they had all learned to loathe long ago. His cheery voice, -his confident bearing, his exultation, have already warmed -their hearts. Something of their terror has vanished; -they are no longer like a herd of awestruck beasts, driven -aimlessly along by senseless terror. There is nothing in the -world so infectious as fear, except courage and enthusiasm: -and Gilles' martial figure, the proud carriage of his head, -his vibrant voice and flashing sword, are there to infuse -valour even in the most abject. -</p> - -<p> -The captain of the guard and his men had winced before -de Landas' threats. Old habits of discipline could not all -in a moment be shaken off. But now they feel that the -crowd is at one with them in their enthusiasm for the -stranger, and also that they will be given a chance of -retrieving their shameful act of cowardice of awhile ago. So, -when the crowd cheers, the soldiers, despite de Landas' -black looks and his brutal menaces, following their captain's -lead, cheer too. They cheer until the very walls of the -ancient city reverberate with the sound. -</p> - -<p> -'France! France!' -</p> - -<p> -Then suddenly Gilles, at the top of the perron steps, -quick as lightning, runs to the nearest earthenware pot -which is filled with the Madonna lilies. He plucks out a -sheaf of the flowers, and with a loud cry: 'Soldiers of -Cambray, rally to the standard of France! To the -unconquered Flower o' the Lily!' he throws the flowers one -by one to the soldiers and their captain. The men seize -them as they fly through the air and fasten them to their -bonnets or their belts. The crowd acclaims the spirited deed: -</p> - -<p> -'Long live the flower o' the lily!' they shout. -</p> - -<p> -Now Gilles is running from pot to pot. He snatches -sheaf after sheaf of lilies and throws them to the crowd. -The flowers are caught up with ever growing ardour, whilst -every corner of the Place rings with the triumphant call: -'France! France!' -</p> - -<p> -Far away the cannon is roaring, the air is rent with the -sharp report of muskets and the crumbling of masonry. -The translucent April sky hath taken on a lurid hue. Around -the city walls the brutal enemy is already swarming; he -is battering at the gates, has climbed the fortifications, -run triumphantly to the assault. Awhile ago the crowd -had cowered at the sound, fled terrified at his approach. -Now every heart is thrilled with fervour, every soul responds -to the appeal of an enthusiast, and is glowing with the hope -of victory. -</p> - -<p> -And de Landas, blind with fury, sees the fruits of his -abominable treachery crumbling to dust before his eyes. -He glowers on every one around him like a stricken bull, -with rage and frenzy enkindled in his eyes. And suddenly, -before any one there can guess his purpose, he has laid savage -hands on the Captain of the guard, and drawing a pistol -from his belt he points it at the unfortunate man's breast. -</p> - -<p> -'If one of you dares to utter another sound, or to stir -from this spot,' he shrieks out in a shrill and husky voice, -'I'll shoot this dog where he stands.' -</p> - -<p> -At once the cheers immediately near him are stilled, a -groan of horror and of execration rises from an hundred -throats, and for the space of a few seconds the soldiers -stand quite still, holding their breath; for in truth it is -murder which gleams out of the young Spaniard's eyes. -</p> - -<p> -'Down on your knees, you miscreant!' shouts de Landas -fiercely. 'Maarege, à moi! Help me to make a clean -sweep of this herd of rebels. Down on your knees, every -one of you! You Flemish swine!' -</p> - -<p> -'Down on your knees, M. le Marquis!' Gilles' sonorous -voice rings out like a bronze bell beneath the clapper. -With that rapidity which characterizes his every action, -he runs down the perron steps, catches de Landas' right -arm from behind and gives it such a brutal wrench that -the pistol falls from the miscreant's hand and the Spaniard -himself, sick with the pain, comes down on one knee. -</p> - -<p> -'Out of the way, you hell-hound!' Gilles goes on -mercilessly. 'There is no room for traitors in Cambray.' -</p> - -<p> -He kicks the pistol on one side and throws de Landas, -semi-inert, from him, as if he were a bale of noisome goods. -Then he turns and, with an instantaneous gesture, has -gripped de Landas' familiar by the throat. -</p> - -<p> -'I'll kill every one of your gang with mine own hands,' -he says in a fierce and rapid whisper, 'unless you all slink -away at once like the curs that you are!' -</p> - -<p> -The words are hardly out of his mouth, and Maarege, -faint and sick, is bending under that powerful grip, when -from somewhere overhead there comes a sudden, -heart-rending cry of warning. -</p> - -<p> -'Take care!' -</p> - -<p> -But the warning has come just a second too late. De -Landas, recovering from semi-consciousness, has succeeded -in crawling on hands and knees and retaking possession of -his pistol. He points it straight at his hated rival. There -is a sharp report, followed by screams from the women. -For a second or two Gilles remains standing just where he -was, with his sinewy fingers round Maarege's throat. Then -his grip relaxes; Maarege totters back, panting and half -dead, whilst Gilles instinctively puts his hand to his shoulder. -His jerkin is already deeply stained with blood. -</p> - -<p> -De Landas gives an almost demoniacal shout of glee, -which, however, is but short-lived. The soldiers, who had -been cowed by his brutality a moment ago, are roused to -a passion of fury now at the dastardly assault on one who -has already become their idol. They fall on the recreant, -regardless of his rank and power. They drag him up from -the ground, wrench the pistol out of his hand and hold him -there, a panting, struggling, impotent beast, breathing -hatred and malediction. -</p> - -<p> -'Give the word, Monseigneur,' the Captain says coolly, -'and we'll kill the vermin.' He holds the pistol to de -Landas' breast, whilst his eyes are fixed on Gilles, waiting -for the order to fire. -</p> - -<p> -'Let the serpent be, captain,' Gilles replies quietly. -</p> - -<p> -'But you are hurt, Monseigneur,' the captain urges. -</p> - -<p> -'Nothing but a scratch—'tis healed already.' -</p> - -<p> -Far away the cannon thunders once more. Once more a -terrific explosion rends the air. Gilles, still upright, still -cheery, still brimful of enthusiasm, holds his sword up high -over his head, so that the April sun draws sparks of fire -from its shining blade. -</p> - -<p> -'To the breach, friends!' he cries. 'If breach there -be! À moi, soldiers of Cambray! Form into line and to -the ramparts! I'll be there before you! And you, proud -citizens of a valiant city, à moi! Pick up your staves and -your sticks, your chisels and your rakes! À moi! All of -you, with your fists and your knees and your hearts and your -minds! Remember Mons, and Mechlin and Gand! Remember -your hearths! your wives! your daughters! and -let the body of each one of you here be a living rampart -against the foe for the defence of your homes. À moi!' -</p> - -<p> -The captain gives the order, the men fall in, in straight, -orderly line. On their bonnets or in their belts the white -lily gleams like shining metal beneath the kiss of the April -sun. From the Town Hall the bodyguard comes trooping -down the perron steps. They are joined by the halberdiers -who had lined the Grand' Place, by the archers from -St. Géry and the musketeers from the citadel. The banners -of the city guilds flutter in the breeze; fair hands and -white kerchiefs are waved from windows and balconies -above, and a terrific cheer for France rends the air with -its triumphant echo, as the crowd begins to move slowly -in the wake of the soldiers. -</p> - -<p> -'Long live France!' -</p> - -<p> -'Long live the Defender of Cambray!' -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -II -</h4> - -<p> -For a moment Gilles stands quite still, almost isolated -where he is, a little dizzy with excitement and with loss of -blood. An uncomfortable veil is fast gathering in front of -his eyes. 'I shall have to see to this stupid scratch,' he -murmurs to himself. -</p> - -<p> -It had all occurred so quickly—within a brief quarter -of an hour. And yet the destinies of nations had been recast -during that time. Now the city fathers, the provosts, -Monseigneur himself, are crowding round the one man who -they feel might still save them from dishonour. -</p> - -<p> -'Your Highness, we look to you,' Monseigneur is saying. -</p> - -<p> -'Tell us what you wish done,' adds the Chief Magistrate. -</p> - -<p> -'The Provosts await your Highness' orders,' rejoins a -pompous dignitary, whilst yet another continues in the -same strain: 'We are body and soul at your Highness' -commands.' -</p> - -<p> -Their voices come to Gilles as if from somewhere far away. -They are drowned by the tumult of the beleaguered city -preparing for a last stand. But the instinct of the soldier -keeps him steadfast on his feet. He makes a violent effort -to keep his head clear and his voice firm. He gives orders -to the Chief Magistrate, the Provosts, the Mayors of the -Guilds. The forts must be visited at once, the men -encouraged, the officers admonished. Every hour, every minute -almost is now of priceless value. The troop brought -over by Messire de Balagany, encamped at La Fère -cannot be here before sundown. Until then the men must -stand. Oh! they must stand, Messires! Despite crumbling -walls and hecatombs of dead! Let the men know that -the existence of their country is hanging to-day by a thread! -</p> - -<p> -The Guild of Armourers must open up its stores: pikes, -lances, halberts, muskets, must be distributed to a -contingent of citizens, who, though untrained, will help to -strengthen the living wall. The Guild of Apothecaries -must be ready with ambulances and dressings, and -stretcher-bearers must work wonders so that the fighters are not -encumbered by the dead. -</p> - -<p> -The Chief Engineer of the city must see to barricading -the streets with double rows of hurdles, or boxes, or -furniture, or lumber of any sorts, with sacks filled with earth, -empty carts, wagons, clothing, anything and everything -that may be handy. The reservoirs of the city must be -patrolled, and if it be deemed necessary, they must be opened -and the water allowed to flood the low-lying streets by the -river, if the enemy succeed in obtaining a foothold there. -Countermines must be laid; every one must to his task, -and he who does not fight must think and work and endure. -</p> - -<p> -Every one obeys. One by one, the dignitaries file away -to execute the orders which have been given them. They -all accept the leadership of this man, whom they still believe -to be the Duc d'Anjou, their future Sovereign Lord. -</p> - -<p> -'Ah, Monseigneur!' exclaims d'Inchy warmly. 'I -thank God on my knees that you are with us to-day, and -that it is you who will defend our city—the most precious -pearl in your future inheritance.' -</p> - -<p> -'Your Highness must save yourself as much as possible,' -comes in cordial echo from M. de Lalain. 'We could ill -spare you now.' -</p> - -<p> -'What would we do if Monseigneur fell?' adds another. -</p> - -<p> -And then an angelic voice breaks in suddenly, saying -with sweet compassion: -</p> - -<p> -'Fie, Monsieur my guardian, to weary Monseigneur so! -Cannot you see that he is fainting?' -</p> - -<p> -But Gilles hardly hears. Tired nature is asserting her -rights over him at last. He sinks wearied upon the nearest -step. It seems to him as if soft arms are thrown around -him, whilst others—more powerful and insistent—busy -themselves dexterously with his jerkin. -</p> - -<p> -It is all very vague and infinitely sweet. Soft linen -is laid upon his wounded shoulder, something pungent and -sweet-smelling is held to his nostrils, whilst from very far -away, in the regions of dreams and of paradise, a soft voice -murmurs with angelic solicitude: -</p> - -<p> -'Think you it will heal?' -</p> - -<p> -'Very quickly, gracious lady,' a gruff voice replies. -''Tis only a flesh wound. Excitement hath brought on a -brief swoon. It is nothing.' -</p> - -<p> -After which Gilles remembers nothing more. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap24"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXIV -<br /><br /> -THE DEFENCE OF CAMBRAY -</h3> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -I -</h4> - -<p> -Of that terrible day in Cambray, that fourth of April, -1581, nothing has survived but a memory—a glowing -memory of fervour and enthusiasm, of reckless disregard -of danger and magnificent deeds of valour; a heartrending -memory of sorrow and misery and death. -</p> - -<p> -Five times in as many hours did the armies of the Duke -of Parma rush to the assault of the city. Five times did a -living rampart of intrepid bodies interpose itself between -the mighty hordes and the crumbling walls of Cambray—those -intrepid bodies more steadfast than the walls. At -one hour after noon the redoubt of Cantimpré is a black -mass of charred débris, the Château de Seille is in flames. -On the right bank of the Scheldt the walls have a breach -through which twenty men can pass, the moats and the -river are filled with dead. -</p> - -<p> -But the living rampart still stands. The walls of Cambray -are crumbling, but her citizens are steadfast. Halbertmen -and pikemen, archers and gunners, they all have a moment's -weakness to retrieve, and do it with deeds of indomitable -valour. And as they fall, and their numbers become thinned, -as that breathing, palpitating wall sustains shock after -shock of the most powerful engines of warfare the world -has ever known, its gaps are made good by other breasts -and other hearts, and with all the spirit which will not rest -until it has conquered. -</p> - -<p> -Outside and in, at this hour, all is confusion. A medley -of sights and sounds which the senses cannot wholly grasp, -dull roar of cannon, sharp retort of musketry, clash of pike -and lance and halbert, the terrified shrieks of women and -the groans of the wounded and the dying. Round about -the walls, in the narrow streets and up on the battlements, -a litter of broken steel and staves, of scrap-iron and -fragments of masonry and glass, torn jerkins cast aside; for -the April sun is hot and the smell of powder goes to the -head like wine. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -II -</h4> - -<p> -And from the tall steeples of Cambray's many churches -the tocsin sends its ominous call above the din. -</p> - -<p> -Cambray is fighting for her liberty, for her existence. -Her sons and daughters are giving their lives for her. And -not only for her, but for the Netherlands—the brave and -stricken country which has fought against such terrible odds -while the very centuries have rolled by. -</p> - -<p> -A last stand, this; for no mercy is to be expected from -the Spaniard if he enters the city in his numbers. Cambray -hath withstood the might of Philip II, hath rebelled against -his authority, hath dared to think that men are free to -think, to work and to worship, that children are not slaves -or women chattels. Cambray hath unfurled the flag of -liberty. If she fall, she becomes a prey to rapine and -brutality, to incendiaries and libertines. -</p> - -<p> -So Cambray to-day must conquer or die. -</p> - -<p> -Traitors have plotted against her, laid her open, -unsuspecting, to a surprise attack by an army which is -past-master in the art. Caught unawares in a holiday mood, -she has flinched. Worked upon by treachery, her sons -have wavered at first, panic seized hold of them—they all -but fell, shamed and destined to never-ending disgrace -and remorse. -</p> - -<p> -But the cowardice had been momentary, fostered by past -months of privations and misery, fomented by the insidious -voice of traitors. One man's voice hath rallied the sinking -spirits, one man's valour revived the dormant courage. -All they wanted was a leader—a man to tell them to -hope, a man to cheer and comfort them, to kindle in -their hearts the dying flame of indomitable will. So, in -the wake of that man they have followed in their hundreds -and their thousands; the soldiers have regained discipline; -the men, courage; the women, resignation. The masked -stranger whom they had been taught to hate, they have -already learned to worship. -</p> - -<p> -Heroic, splendid, indomitable, he is the bulwark which -strengthens every faltering heart, the prop which supports -every wavering spirit. From end to end of the ramparts -his sonorous voice vibrates and echoes, commanding, -helping, cheering. If courage fails, he is there to stiffen; -if an arm tires, his is there to take its place. Sword or -lance, or pike or halbert, culverine or musket or bow; every -weapon is familiar to his hand. At the breach with a pistol, -on the ramparts with falconet, on the bastion with the heavy -cannon; he is here, there and everywhere where danger is -most threatening, where Spanish arrows darken the sky -like a storm-cloud that is wind-driven, and deal death when -they find their goal. His jerkin is torn, the sleeve of his -doublet hangs tattered from his shoulder, his arm is bare, -his face black with powder and grime. Around him the -Provosts and Sheriffs and Captains of the Guard vainly -beg him not to expose himself to unnecessary peril. -</p> - -<p> -'The soldiers look to your Highness alone,' they cry in -desperation. 'If you fall, what should we do?' -</p> - -<p> -They still believe him to be the Duc d'Anjou, brother of -the King of France, and marvel that so degenerate a race -could breed such a magnificent soldier. He has said nothing -to disillusion them. The mire of battle masks him better -than a scrap of satin or velvet, and whilst fighting -to save Cambray, he is also redeeming the honour of -France. -</p> - -<p> -'If you fall, what should we do?' implores d'Inchy on -one occasion, during a lull in the attack. -</p> - -<p> -Gilles laughs, loudly and long. 'Do?' he exclaims gaily. -'Hold Cambray to the last man and turn the Spaniard from -her walls!' -</p> - -<p> -Unflinching and resolute, a pack of Flemish bourgeois -hold their ground against the might and main of the Duke -of Parma's magnificent army—clerks, some of them, others -shopkeepers or labourers, against the most powerful military -organization of the epoch! But it is not only Cambray -that is threatened now; it is the freedom of their province -and the honour of their women. And so they make a wall -of their bodies whilst the flower of the Duke of Parma's -hordes is hurled time after time against them. -</p> - -<p> -Musketeers and crossbowmen, lancers and halberdiers—up -they come to the charge like an irresistible tidal wave -against a mighty cliff. Like a torrent they rush over the -moat and on to the breach, or the bastions, or the ramparts; -attacking from every side, using every engine of warfare -which the mightiest kingdom of the age has devised for -the subjugation of rebellious cities. The sound of -metal-headed arrows against the masonry is like a shower of -hailstones upon glass; the battlements gleam with flashing -steel, with sparks from brandished swords and flame-spitting -falconets. -</p> - -<p> -Of a truth, the mind cannot grasp it all, eyes cannot -see nor ears perceive all the horrors, the misery and the -devotion. Men fighting and women working to soothe, -to comfort or to heal. Burghers' wives, humble maids, -great ladies, are all fighting with the men, fighting with -their hearts and their skilled hands, with clean bandages -and soothing potions, with words of comfort for the dying -and prayers for the dead. -</p> - -<p> -In the streets behind the ramparts, rough ambulances -have been set up, mattresses dragged under sheds or -outhouses, fresh straw laid, on which the wounded might find -momentary solace. The women, too, are doing their part. -Jacqueline de Broyart, one of the many, the most untiring -where all give of their best, the most selfless where all are -ready for sacrifice. From time to time during the lull -between terrific assaults, she sees Gilles hurrying past—her -knight, the defender of her beloved city. She bade him -go and save Cambray and sees him now, begrimed, in rags, -unheedful even of her, but cheerful and undaunted, certain -of victory. -</p> - -<p> -'You will be proud, my dear,' says d'Inchy to her, during -one of those nerve-racking lulls, 'to place your hand in that -so valiant a soldier, to plight your troth to Monsieur Duc -d'Anjou.' -</p> - -<p> -'I shall be proud,' she retorts simply, 'if, indeed, I might -plight my troth to the defender of Cambray.' -</p> - -<p> -'The defender of Cambray, my dear,' rejoins d'Inchy -lustily. 'The saviour of Cambray, you mean! 'Tis on -our knees we shall have to thank him and offer him all -that we have of the best!' -</p> - -<p> -A strange, elusive smile flits for a moment round Jacqueline's -mouth, and a look of infinite longing softens the light -of her blue eyes. -</p> - -<p> -'If only it could be!' she sighs, and returns to her task. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -III -</h4> - -<p> -Later in the afternoon, the picture becomes more clear. -We see the crumbling walls, the girdle around Cambray -falling away bit by bit; we see the breach at Cantimpré -wider by many feet now and a handful of men making a -last stand there, with muskets, crossbows, sticks—anything -that is ready to hand. We see the bastions a mass of -smouldering ruins and the ramparts around on the point -of giving way. -</p> - -<p> -And all about the city a mighty hecatomb—Spaniards -and Flemings, soldiers, burghers or churls, lie scattered -on the low-lying ground, in the moat, the ramparts or the -streets. Might and glory have claimed their victims as -well as valour and worship of liberty. -</p> - -<p> -Cambray's walls are falling. The breach becomes wider -and wider every hour, like a huge gaping wound through -which the life-blood of the stricken city is oozing out drop -by drop. -</p> - -<p> -But, guarding that breach, not yet yielding one foot of -the city which shelters his Jacqueline, Gilles de Crohin, -with that handful of men, still holds the ground. His -anxious eyes scan the low horizon far away where the April -sun is slowly sinking to rest. That way lies La Fère and -de Balagny's few picked men, whom Jehan has gone to -fetch, and who could even in this desperate hour turn Spanish -discomfiture into a rout. -</p> - -<p> -'My God! why does Jehan tarry?' he calls out with -smouldering impatience. -</p> - -<p> -Up on the battlements the guard stand firm; but the -Spaniards have succeeded in throwing several bridges of -pikes across the moat and one mine after another is laid -against the walls. Captains and officers run to Gilles for -instructions or orders. -</p> - -<p> -'There are no orders,' he says, 'save to hold out until -France comes to your aid.' -</p> - -<p> -And out in the open country, outside those city walls -which hold together so much heroism and such indomitable -courage, the Duke of Parma, angered, fierce, terrible, has -rallied the cream of his armies around him. The sixth -assault has just been repulsed, the breach cleared by a -terrific fusillade from that handful of men, whilst a -murderous shower from above, of granite and scrap-iron and -heavy stones, has scattered the attacking party. A -fragment of stone has hit the Duke on the forehead; blood -is streaming down his face. He sets spurs to his horse and -gallops to where a company of archers is scrambling -helter-skelter out of the moat. -</p> - -<p> -'Cowards!' he cries savagely. 'Will you flee before -such rabble?' -</p> - -<p> -He strikes at the soldiers with his sword, sets spurs to -his horse until the poor beast snorts with pain, rears and -paws the air with its hoofs, only to bring them down the -next moment, trampling and kicking half a dozen soldiers -to death in its mad and terrified struggle. -</p> - -<p> -'You know the guard has fled,' Alexander Farnese cries -to his officers. ''Tis only an undisciplined mob who is in -there now.' -</p> - -<p> -His nephew, Don Miguel de Salvado, a brave and experienced -captain, shrugs his shoulders and retorts: -</p> - -<p> -'A mob led by a man who has the whole art of warfare -at his finger-tips. Look at him now!' -</p> - -<p> -All eyes are turned in the direction to which Don Miguel -is pointing. There, in the midst of smouldering ruins of -charred débris and crumbling masonry, stands the defender -of Cambray; behind him the graceful steeples of St. Géry -and of St. Waast, the towers of Notre Dame and of the Town -Hall, are lit up by the honey-coloured rays of the sinking -sun. Superb in his tattered clothes, with chest and arms -bare, and ragged hose, he stands immovable, scanning the -western sky. -</p> - -<p> -De Landas laughs aloud. -</p> - -<p> -'He is still on the look-out for that promised help from -France,' he says, with a shrug of his shoulder. -</p> - -<p> -The traitor has made good his escape out of the city -which he has betrayed. What assistance he could render -to the Duke in the way of information, he has done. The -measure of his infamy is full to the brim, and yet his hatred -for the enemy who has shamed him is in no way assuaged. -</p> - -<p> -He, too, looks up and sees Gilles de Crohin, the man -whose invincible courage has caused the Spanish armies -so many valuable lives this day and such unforgettable -humiliation. -</p> - -<p> -'A hundred doubloons,' he cries aloud, 'to the first -man who lays that scoundrel low!' -</p> - -<p> -The word is passed from mouth to mouth. The archers -and musketeers set up a cheer. Parma adds, with an oath: -'And a captain's rank to boot!' -</p> - -<p> -An hundred doubloons and a captain's rank! 'Tis a -fortune for any man. It means retirement, a cottage in -sunny Spain, a home, a wife. The men take heart and look -to their arrows and their muskets! Every archer feels that -he has that fortune in his quiver now and every musketeer -has it in his powder horn. And with a loud cry of 'Long -live King Philip of Spain!' the infantry once more rush -for the breach. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -IV -</h4> - -<p> -Don Miguel de Salvado leads the attack this time. The -breach now looks like a gate which leads straight into the -heart of the city, where pillage and looting are to be the -reward of the conquerors; and the booty will be rich with -the precious belongings of a pack of overfed bourgeois. -</p> - -<p> -That open gate for the moment seems undefended. It is -encumbered with fallen masonry, and beyond this appear -piles of rubbish, overturned wagons, furniture, débris of -all sorts, evidently abandoned by the wretched inhabitants -when they fled from their homes. Of Gilles de Crohin and -his burghers there is for the moment no sign. -</p> - -<p> -Don Miguel has with him half a company of musketeers, -the finest known in Europe, and a company of lancers who -have been known to clear an entire city of rebels by their -irresistible onrush. -</p> - -<p> -'No falling back, remember!' he commands. 'The -first who gives ground is a dead man!' -</p> - -<p> -Up the lancers run on the slippery ground, clinging to -the wet earth with naked feet, to the coarse grass and loose -stones with their knees. The musketeers remain on the -hither side of the moat, three deep in a long battle array; -the front lying flat upon the ground, the second kneeling, -the third standing, with their muskets levelled against the -first enemy who dares to show his face. The pikemen have -reached the breach. There is silence on the other side. The -officer laughs lustily. -</p> - -<p> -'I told you 'twas but a rabble playing with firearms!' -</p> - -<p> -The words are hardly out of his mouth when a terrific -volley of musketry shakes the fast crumbling wall to its -foundation. It comes from somewhere behind all those -débris—and not only from there, but from some other -unknown point, with death-like precision and cold deliberation. -The Spanish officer is hit in the face; twelve pikemen -throw up their arms and come rolling down on the wet -ground. -</p> - -<p> -'What is this hell let loose?' cries the officer savagely, -ere he too, blinded with the flow of blood down his face, -beats a hasty retreat. -</p> - -<p> -Quick! a messenger to His Highness the Duke of Parma! -The breach is so wide now that twenty men could walk -easily through it. The enemy is not in sight—and yet, -from somewhere unseen, death-dealing musketry frustrates -every assault. -</p> - -<p> -'Return to the charge!' is the Duke of Parma's curt -command, and sends one of his ablest officers to lead a -fresh charge. He himself organizes a diversion, crosses the -small rivulet, which flows into the Schelde at the foot of -Cantimpré, and trains his artillery upon a vulnerable piece -of wall, between the bastion and the river bank. He has -the finest culverines known in Europe at this time, made -on a new pattern lately invented in England; his cannon -balls are the most powerful ever used in warfare, and some -of his musketeers know how to discharge ten shots in a -quarter of an hour—an accomplishment never excelled even -by the French. -</p> - -<p> -So, while one of his ablest officers is in charge of the -attacking party on the breach, His Highness himself directs -a new set of operations. Once more the roar of artillery -and of musketry rend the air with their portentous sound. -The Duke of Parma's picked men attack the last bastion -of Cantimpré, whilst from the roads of Arras, of Sailly and -Bapaume, the whole of the Spanish infantry rush like a -mighty wave to the charge. -</p> - -<p> -Pikemen and halberdiers, archers and lancers, once more -to the assault! Are ye indeed cowards, that a pack of -Flemish rabble can hold you at bay till you sink back -exhausted and beaten? Up, Bracamonte and Ribeiras! -Messar, with your musketeers! Salvado, with your -bow-men! Up, ye mighty Spanish armies, who have seen the -world at your feet! With Farnese himself to lead you, -the hero of an hundred sieges, the queller of an hundred -rebellions; are ye dolts and fools that you cannot crush -a handful of undisciplined rabble? -</p> - -<p> -And in close masses, shoulder to shoulder, they -come!—exhausted, but still obstinate, and with the hope of all -the rich booty to lure them on. Down the declivity of the -moat—no longer deep, now that it is filled with dead! -And up again to below the walls! The setting sun is behind -them and gleams on their breastplates and their bonnets, -and gilds the edges of the battlements with lines of flame. -</p> - -<p> -And, up on the crumbling battlements, the defenders -of Cambray—the clerks and shopkeepers and churls—hear -the tramp of many feet, feel the earth quivering beneath -this thunder of a last mighty assault. Sturdy, undaunted -hands grip lance and pike tighter still, and intrepid hearts -wait for this final charge, as they have waited for others -to-day, and will go on waiting till the last of them has -stilled its beating. -</p> - -<p> -And Gilles de Crohin in their midst, invincible and cool, -scours the battlements and the breach, the bastions and the -ramparts—always there where he is needed most, where -spirits want reviving or courage needs the impetus of praise. -He knows as well as they do that gunpowder is running -short, that arrows are few and thousands of weapons broken -with usage: he knows, better than they do, that if de -Balagny's troop tarries much longer all this heroic resistance -will have been in vain. -</p> - -<p> -So he keeps his own indomitable little army on the -leash, husbanding precious lives and no less precious -ammunition; keeping them back, well away from the parapets, -lest the sight of the enemy down below lead them on to -squander both. Thus, of all that goes on beneath the walls, -of the nature of the attack or the chances of a surprise, -the stout defenders can see nothing. Only Gilles, whilst -scouring the lines, can see; for he has crawled on his hands -and knees to the outermost edge of the crumbling parapet -and has gazed down upon the Duke of Parma's hordes. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -V -</h4> - -<p> -Now the Spanish halbertmen have reached the hither -side of the moat. The breach is before them, tantalizingly -open. The lancers are following over the improvised bridges, -and behind them the musketeers are sending a volley of -shot over their heads into the breach. It is all done with -much noise and clash of steel and thundering artillery and -cries of 'Long live King Philip!'—all to cover the disposing -of scaling ladders against the walls. -</p> - -<p> -The pikemen are executing this surprise attack, one -in which they are adepts. The noisy onslaught, the roar -of artillery, the throwing of dust in the eyes of wearied -defenders; then the silent scaling of the walls, the rush -upon the battlements, wholesale panic and slaughter. -</p> - -<p> -Alexander Farnese hath oft employed these devices and -hath never known them to fail. So the men throw down -their pikes, carry pistols in their right hand and a short -dagger-like sword between their teeth. They fix their -ladders—five of them—and begin quite noiselessly to mount. -Ten on each ladder, which makes fifty all told, and they -the flower of the Duke of Parma's troops. Up they swarm -like human ants striving to reach a hillock. Now the -gunners have to cease firing, lest they hit those ladders -with their human freight. -</p> - -<p> -And while at the breach the men of Cambray make their -last desperate stand, the first of the Spanish pikemen has -reached the topmost rung of his ladder. The human ants -have come to the top of their hillock. Already the foremost -amongst them has begun to hoist himself up, with his -hands clinging to the uneven masonry. The next second -or two would have seen him with his leg over the parapet, -and already a cry of triumph has risen to his lips, when -suddenly, before his horror-stricken gaze, a man surges up, -as if out of the ground, stands there before him for one -second, which is as tense as it is terrifying. Then, with a -mighty blow from some heavy weapon which he holds, he -fells the pikeman down. The man loses his footing, gives -a loud cry of horror and falls headlong some forty feet. -In his fall he drags two or three of his comrades with him. -But the ladder still stands, and on it the human ants, -reinforced at once by others, resume their climb. Only for a -minute—no more! The next, a pair of hands with titanic -strength and a grip of iron seizes the ladder by the shafts, -holds it for one brief, agonizing moment, and then hurls -it down with the whole of its human freight into the depth -below. -</p> - -<p> -An awful cry rends the air, but is quickly drowned by -the roar of cannon and musketry. It has been a mere -incident. The Duke has not done more than mutter an -oath in his beard. He is watching the four other ladders -on which his human ants are climbing. But the oath dies -on his lips—even he becomes silent in face of the appalling -catastrophe which he sees. That man up there whom already -he has learned to fear, that man in the tattered doublet -and the ragged hose—he it is who has turned the tables -on Farnese's best <i>ruse de guerre</i>. With lightning rapidity -and wellnigh superhuman strength, he repeats his feat once -more. Once more a scaling ladder bearing its precious -human freight is hurled down into the depth. The man -now appears like a Titan. Ye gods! or ye devils! which -of you gave him that strength? Now he has reached the -third ladder. Just perhaps one second too late, for the -leading pikeman has already gained a foothold upon the -battlements, stands there on guard to shield the ladder; -for he has scented the danger which threatens him and his -comrades. His pistol is raised even as Gilles approaches. -The Duke of Parma feels as if his heart had stilled its -beating. Another second, and that daring rebel would be laid -low. -</p> - -<p> -But Gilles too has seen the danger—the danger to himself -and to the city which he is defending. No longer has he -the time to seize the ladder as he has done before, no longer -the chance of exerting that titanic strength which God hath -lent him so that he might save Cambray. One second—it -is the most precious one this threatened city hath yet known, -for in it Fate is holding the balance, and the life of her -defender is at stake. One second! -</p> - -<p> -The Spanish pikemen are swarming up dangerously near -now to the battlements. The next instant Gilles has picked -up a huge piece of masonry from the ground, holds it for -one moment with both hands above his head, then hurls -it with all his might against the ladder. The foremost -man is the first to fall. His pistol goes off in his hand with -a loud report. Immediately below him the weight of the -falling stone has made matchwood of the ladder and the -men are hurled to their death, almost without uttering a -groan. The Flemish halbertmen in the meanwhile have -rushed up to the battlements; seeing Gilles' manoeuvre, -they are eager to emulate it. There are two more ladders -propped against the falling walls and their leader's strength -must in truth be spent. And there are still more Spaniards -to come, more of those numberless hordes, before whom a -handful of untrained burghers are making their last and -desperate stand. -</p> - -<p> -Just then Gilles has paused in order to gaze once more -into the far-away west. Already the gold of the sun has -turned to rose and crimson, already the low-lying horizon -appears aflame with the setting glow. But now upon the -distant horizon line something appears to move, something -more swift and sudden and vivid than the swaying willows -by the river bank or the tall poplars nodding to the evening -breeze. Flames of fire dart and flash, a myriad specks of -dust gleam like lurid smoke and the earth shakes with the -tramp of many horses' hoofs. Far away on the Bapaume -road the forerunners of de Balagny's troops are seen -silhouetted against the glowing sky. -</p> - -<p> -Gilles has seen them. Aid has come at last. One more -stupendous effort, one more superhuman exertion of will, -and the day is won. He calls aloud to the depleted garrison, -to that handful of men who, brave and undaunted, stand -around him still. -</p> - -<p> -'At them, burghers of Cambray! France comes to your -aid! See her mighty army thundering down the road! -Down with the Spaniard! This is the hour of your -victory!' -</p> - -<p> -As many times before, his resonant voice puts heart into -them once again. Once again they grip halberds and lances -with the determination born of hope. They rush to the -battlements and with mighty hands hurl the Spanish scaling -ladders from their walls, pick up bits of stone, fragments of -granite and of iron, use these as missiles upon the heads -of the attacking party below. The archers on one knee shoot -with deadly precision. They have been given half a dozen -arrows each—the last—and every one of them finds its -mark. -</p> - -<p> -Surprised and confounded by this recrudescence of energy, -the Spaniards pause. An hundred of them lie dead or -dying at the foot of the wall. Their ranks are broken; -don Miguel tries to rally them. But he is hit by an arrow -in the throat, ere he succeeds. De Landas is close by, runs -to the rescue, tries to re-form the ranks, and sees Gilles de -Crohin standing firm upon the battlements and hears his -triumphant, encouraging cry: -</p> - -<p> -'Citizens of Cambray, France has come to your aid!' -</p> - -<p> -Confusion begins to wave her death-dealing wand. The -halbertmen at the breach stand for full five minutes almost -motionless under a hail of arrows and missiles, waiting for -the word of command. -</p> - -<p> -And on the Bapaume road, de Balagny and his troops -are quickly drawing nigh. Already the white banner with -the gold Fleur-de-Lys stands out clearly against the sky. -</p> - -<p> -Parma has seen it, and cursed with savage fury. He is -a great and mighty warrior and knows that the end has -come. The day has brought failure and disgrace; duty -now lies in saving a shred of honour and the remnants of -a scattered army. He cannot understand how it has all -happened, whence this French troop has come and by whose -orders. He is superstitious and mystical and fears to -see in this the vengeful finger of God. So he crosses himself -and mutters a quick prayer, even as a volley of musketry -fired insolently into the air, reverberates down the Bapaume -road. -</p> - -<p> -France is here with her great armies, her unconquered -generals: Condé, Turenne, have come to the rescue. -Parma's wearied troops cannot possibly stand the strain of -fighting in the rear whilst still pushing home the attack in -front. How numerous is the French advancing troop it -is impossible to guess. They come with mighty clatter -and many useless volleys of musketry, with jingling of harness -and breastplates and clatter of hoofs upon the road. They -come with a mighty shout of 'Valois! and Fleur-de-Lys!' They -wave their banners and strike their lances and pikes -together. They come! They come! -</p> - -<p> -And the half-exhausted Spanish army hears and sees -them too. The halbertmen pause and listen, the archers -halt halfway across the moat, whilst all around the whisper -goes from mouth to mouth: -</p> - -<p> -"The French are on us! Sauve qui peut!" -</p> - -<p> -Panic seizes the men. They turn and scurry back over -the declivity of the moat. The stampede has commenced: -first the cavalry, then the infantrymen, for the French are -in the rear and legions of unseen spirits have come to the -aid of Cambray. -</p> - -<p> -The Duke of Parma now looks like a broken wreck of his -former arrogant self. His fine accoutrements are torn, -the trappings of his charger are in tatters, his beard has -been singed with gunpowder, he has no hat, no cloak. Raging -fury is in his husky voice as he shouts orders and counter-orders -to men who no longer hear. He calls to his officers, -alternately adjures and insults them. But the French -troops draw nearer and nearer, and nothing but Death will -stop those running Spanish soldiers now. -</p> - -<p> -To right and left of the Bapaume road they run, leaving -that road free for the passage of de Balagny's small troop. -Out in the western sky, the sun is setting in a mantle of -vivid crimson, which is like the colour of human blood. The -last glow illumines the final disgrace of Parma's hitherto -unconquered hordes. The cavalry is galloping back to the -distant camp, with broken reins and stirrups hanging -loose, steel bonnets awry, swords, lances, broken or wilfully -thrown aside. Behind them, the infantry, the archers, -the pikemen, the halberdiers—all running and dragging -their officers away with them in their flight. -</p> - -<p> -Parma's unconquered army has ceased to be. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -VI -</h4> - -<p> -Then it is that Gilles de Crohin stands once again on the -very edge of the broken parapet and fronts the valiant -men of Cambray, who have known how to conquer and -how to die. The setting sun draws lines of glowing crimson -round his massive figure. His clothes are now mere tattered -rags; he is bleeding from several wounds; his face is -almost unrecognizable, coal-black with grime and powder; -but his eyes still sparkle with pride of victory. -</p> - -<p> -'Citizens of Cambray, you are free!' he cries. 'Long -live France! Long live the Flower o' the Lily!' -</p> - -<p> -And down in the plain below, where the remnants of a -disintegrated army are being slowly swallowed up by the -gathering dusk, the Duke of Parma has paused for one -moment before starting on his own headlong flight. He -sees the man who has beaten his mighty armies, the man -whose valour and indomitable will has inflicted untarnishable -humiliation upon the glory of Spain. With a loud -curse, he cries: -</p> - -<p> -'Will no one rid me of that insolent rebel?' -</p> - -<p> -De Landas is near him just then. He too had paused -to look once again on the city which had been his home -and which he had so basely betrayed, and once again on -the man whom he hated with an intensity of passion which -this day of glory and infamy had for ever rendered futile. -</p> - -<p> -'If I do,' he retorts exultantly, 'what will your Highness -give me?' -</p> - -<p> -'Cambray and all it contains,' replies the Duke fiercely. -</p> - -<p> -De Landas gives a cry of prescient triumph. A lancer -is galloping by. The young man, with a swift, powerful -gesture, seizes the horse by the bridle, forces it back on its -haunches till it rears and throws its rider down into the -mud. De Landas swings himself into the saddle, rides -back to within a hundred paces of the city walls. Here -confusion is still holding sway; belated runaways are -darting aimlessly hither and thither like helpless sheep; the -wounded and the maimed are making pitiable efforts to -find a corner wherein to hide. The ground is littered with -the dead and the dying, with abandoned cannon and spent -arrows, with pikes and halberts and broken swords and -lances. -</p> - -<p> -De Landas halts, jumps down from his horse, looks about -him for a crossbow and a quiver, and finds what he wants. -Then he selects his position carefully, well under cover and -just near enough to get a straight hit at the man whom he -hates more than anything else in the world. Opportunity -seems to favour him. Gilles is standing well forward on the -broken parapet, his throat and chest are bare, his broad -figure stands out clear-cut against the distant sky. He is -gazing out towards the west, straight in the direction where -de Landas is cowering—a small, unperceived unit in the -inextricable confusion which reigns around. -</p> - -<p> -He has found the place which best suits his purpose, -has placed his stock in position and adjusted his arrow. -Being a Spanish gentleman, he is well versed in the use of -every weapon necessary for war. He takes careful aim, for -he is in no hurry and is determined not to miss. -</p> - -<p> -'Cambray and all it contains!' the Duke of Parma has -promised him if he succeeds in his purpose. -</p> - -<p> -One second, and the deed is done. The arrow has whizzed -through the air. The next instant, Gilles de Crohin has -thrown up his arms. -</p> - -<p> -'Citizens of Cambray, wait for France!' he cries, and -before any of his friends can get to him, he has given one -turn and then fallen backwards into the depth below. -</p> - -<p> -De Landas has already thrown down his crossbow, -recaptured his horse and galloped back at break-neck speed -in the wake of the flying army. -</p> - -<p> -And even then the joy-bells of Cambray begin to ring -their merry peal. Balagny's troops have entered the city -through the open breach in her walls, whilst down there -in the moat, on a pile of dying and dead, her defender and -saviour lies with a murderous arrow in his breast. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -VII -</h4> - -<p> -De Landas rides like one possessed away from the scene -of his dastardly deed; nor does he draw rein till he has -come up once more with the Duke of Parma. -</p> - -<p> -'At any rate, we are rid of him,' he says curtly. 'And -next time we attack, it will only be with an undisciplined -mob that we shall have to deal.' -</p> - -<p> -All around him the mighty army of Parma is melting -like snow under the first kiss of a warm sun. Every man -who hath limbs left wherewith to run, flies panic-stricken -down the roads, across fields and rivulets and morasses, -throwing down arms, overturning everything that comes -in his way, not heeding the cries of the helpless and trampling -on the dead. -</p> - -<p> -Less than an hour has gone by since France's battle-cry -first resounded on the Bapaume road, and now there is -not one Spanish soldier left around the walls of Cambray, -save the wounded and the slain. These lie about scattered -everywhere, like pawns upon an abandoned chess-board. -The moat below the breach is full of them. Maître Jehan -le Bègue has not far to seek for the master and comrade -whom he loves so dearly. He has seen him fall from the -parapet, struck by the cowardly hand of an assassin in the -very hour of victory. So, whilst de Balagny's chief captains -enter Cambray in triumph, Jehan seeks in the moat for the -friend whom he has lost. -</p> - -<p> -He finds him lying there with de Landas' arrow still -sticking in the wound in his breast. Maître Jehan lifts -him as tenderly as a mother would lift her sick child, hoists -him across his broad shoulders, and then slowly wends his -way along the road back to La Fère. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap25"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXV -<br /><br /> -HOW CAMBRAY STARVED AND ENDURED -</h3> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -I -</h4> - -<p> -As for the rest, 'tis in the domain of history. Not only -Maître Manuchet, but Le Carpentier in his splendid -<i>History of Cambray</i>, has told us how the Duke of Parma's -armies, demoralized by that day of disasters, took as many -weeks to recuperate and to rally as did the valiant city to -recover from her wounds. -</p> - -<p> -Too late did Parma discover that he had been hoaxed, -that the massed French troops, who had terrified his armies, -consisted of a handful of men, who had been made to shout -and to make much noise, so as to scare those whom they -could not have hoped to conquer in open fight. It was too -late now for the great general to retrieve his blunder; but -not too late to prepare a fresh line of action, wait for -reinforcements, reorganize the forces at his command and then -to resume the siege of Cambray, with the added hope of -inflicting material punishment upon the rebel city for the -humiliation which she had caused him to endure. -</p> - -<p> -The French armies were still very far away. Parma's -numerous spies soon brought him news that Monsieur -Duc d'Anjou, was only now busy in collecting and training -a force which eventually might hope to vie in strength -and equipment with the invincible Spanish troops, whilst -the King of France would apparently have nothing to do -with the affair and openly disapproved of his brother's -intervention in the business of the Netherlands. -</p> - -<p> -The moment therefore was all in favour of the Spanish -commander; but even so he did not again try to take -Cambray by storm. Many historians have averred that a -nameless superstition was holding him back, that he had seen -in the almost supernatural resistance of the city, the warning -finger of God. Be that as it may, he became, after the day -of disaster, content to invest the approaches to the French -frontier, and after awhile, when his reinforcements had -arrived, he formed with his armies a girdle around Cambray -with a view to reducing her by starvation. -</p> - -<p> -A less glorious victory mayhap, but a more assured one! -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -II -</h4> - -<p> -So Cambray starved and endured. -</p> - -<p> -For four months her citizens waited, confident that the -promised help from France would come in the end. They -had hoped and trusted on that never-to-be-forgotten day -four months ago when they covered themselves with glory, -and their trust had not been misplaced. The masked -stranger whom they had followed unto death and victory, -the man who had rallied them and cheered them, who had -shown them the example of intrepid valour and heroic -self-sacrifice, had promised them help from France on that day, -and that help had come just as he had promised. Now -that he was gone from them, the burghers and the soldiers, -the poor and the rich alike—aye! even the women and the -children—would have felt themselves eternally disgraced -if they had surrendered their city which he had so -magnificently defended. -</p> - -<p> -So they tightened their belts and starved, and waited -with stoicism and patience for the hour of their deliverance. -</p> - -<p> -And every evening when the setting sun threw a shaft -of crimson light through the stately windows of Notre -Dame, and the gathering dusk drew long shadows around -the walls, the people of Cambray would meet on the Place -d'Armes inside the citadel, and pray for the return of the -hero who had fought for their liberty. Men and women -with pale, gaunt faces, on which hunger and privations -had already drawn indelible lines; men and women, some -of whom had perhaps never before turned their thoughts -to anything but material cares and material pleasures, -flocked now to pray beneath the blue vault of heaven and -to think of the man who had saved them from ruin and -disgrace. -</p> - -<p> -Nobody believed that he was dead; though many had -seen him fall, they felt that he would return. God Himself -had given Cambray her defender in the hour of her greatest -peril: God had not merely given in order to take away -again. Vague rumours were afloat that the mysterious hero -was none other than the Duc d'Anjou, own brother of the -King of France, who one day would be Sovereign Lord over -all the United Provinces; but as to that, no one cared. -He who was gone was the Defender of Cambray: as such, -he was enshrined in thousands of hearts, as such he would -return one day to receive the gratitude and the love of the -people who worshipped him. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -III -</h4> - -<p> -Le Carpentier draws a kindly veil over the sufferings of -the unfortunate city. With pathetic exactitude, he tells -us that a cow during the siege fetched as much as three -hundred francs—an enormous sum these days—a sheep -fifty francs, an egg forty sols and an ounce of salt eight -sols; but he altogether omits to tell us what happened -to the poor people, who had neither fifty francs nor yet -forty sols to spend. -</p> - -<p> -Maître Manuchet, on the other hand, assures us that at -one time bread was entirely unobtainable and that rats -and mice formed a part of the daily menu of the rich. He -is more crude in his statements than Le Carpentier, and -even lifts for our discreet gaze just one corner of that veil, -wherewith history has chosen to conceal for ever the anguish -of a suffering city. He shows us three distinct pictures, -only sketched in in mere outline, but with boldness and an -obvious regard for truth. -</p> - -<p> -One of these pictures is of Jacqueline de Broyart, the -wealthy heiress who shared with the departed hero the -worship of the citizens of Cambray. Manuchet speaks of -her as of an angel of charity, healing and soothing with words -and hands and heart, as of a vision of paradise in the midst -of a torturing hell—her courage and endurance a prop for -drooping spirits; her voice a sweet, insistent sound above -the cries of pain, the curses and the groans. Wide-eyed -and pale, but with a cheering smile upon her lips, she flits -through the deserted streets of Cambray, bringing the solace -of her presence, the help that can be given, the food that -can be shared, to many a suffering home. -</p> - -<p> -Of the man who hath possession of her heart, she never -speaks with those in authority; but when in a humble -home there is talk of the hero who has gone and of his -probable return, she listens in silence, and when conjectures -fly around her as to his identity, she even tries to smile. -But in her heart she knows that her knight—the man whom -the people worship—will never come back. France will -send troops and aid and protection anon; a puissant Prince -will enter Cambray mayhap at the head of his troops and -be acclaimed as the saviour of Cambray. She would no -doubt in the fullness of time plight her troth to that man, -and the people would be told that this was indeed the Duc -d'Anjou et d'Alençon, who had once before stood upon the -ramparts of Cambray and shouted his defiant cry: 'À -moi, citizens; and let the body of each one of you here be -a living rampart for the defence of your homes!' -</p> - -<p> -But she would know that the man who spoke those inspiring -words had gone from her for ever. Who he was, where -he came from, what had brought him to Cambray under a -disguise and an assumed name, she would perhaps never -know. Nor did she care. He was the man she loved: the -man whose passionate ardour had thrilled her to the soul, -whose touch had been as magic, whose voice had been -perfect music set in perfect time. He was the man she -loved—her knight. Throughout that day upon the ramparts -she had seen him undaunted, intrepid, unconquered—rallying -those who quaked, cheering those who needed -help, regardless of danger, devoted even unto death. So -what cared she what was his name? Whoever he was, he -was worthy of her love. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -IV -</h4> - -<p> -The second picture which the historian shows us is more -dispiriting and more grim. It is a picture of Cambray in -the last days of July. The Spanish armies have invested -the city completely for over eight weeks, and Cambray has -been thrown entirely on her own resources and the activities -of a few bold spirits for the barest necessities of life. -Starvation—grim and unrelenting—is taking her toll of the -exhausted population; disease begins to haunt the abodes -of squalor and of misery. -</p> - -<p> -France has promised aid and France still tarries. -</p> - -<p> -Mayhap France has forgotten long ago. -</p> - -<p> -In Cambray now a vast silence reigns—the silence of -impending doom. The streets are deserted during the day, -the church bells are silent. Only at evening, in the gloom, -weird and melancholy sounds fill the air, groans and husky -voices, and at times the wild shriek of some demented brain. -</p> - -<p> -Cambray has fought for her liberty; now she is enduring -for it—and enduring it with a fortitude and determination, -which is one Of the most glorious entries in the book of the -recording angel. Every morning at dawn the heralds of -the Spanish commander mount the redoubt on the Bapaume -road, and with a loud flourish of brass trumpets they demand -in the name of His Majesty the King of Spain the surrender -of the rebel city. And every day the summons is answered -by a grim and defiant silence. After which, Cambray settles -down to another day of suffering. -</p> - -<p> -The city fathers have worked wonders in organization. -From the first, the distribution of accumulated provisions -has been systematic and rigidly fair. But those distributions, -from being scanty have become wholly insufficient, -and lives that before flickered feebly, have gone out -altogether, while others continue a mere struggle for existence, -which would be degrading were its object not so sublime. -</p> - -<p> -Cambray will not surrender! She would sooner starve -and rot and be consumed by fire, but with her integrity -whole, her courage undoubted, the honour of her women -unsullied. Disease may haunt her streets, famine knock -at every door; but at least while her citizens have one -spark of life left in their bodies, while their emaciated hands -have a vestige of power wherewith to grasp a musket, no -Spanish soldier shall defile her pavements, no Spanish -commander work his tyrannical will with her. -</p> - -<p> -Cambray will not surrender! She believes in her defender -and her saviour!—in his words that France will presently -come with invincible might and powerful armies, when -all her sufferings will be turned to relief and to joy. And -every evening when lights are put out and darkness settles -down upon the stricken city, wrapping under her beneficent -mantle all the misery, the terrors and the heroism, men -and women lay themselves down to their broken rest with -a last murmur of hope, a last invocation to God for the -return of the hero in whom lies their trust. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -V -</h4> - -<p> -And in the Town Hall the city fathers sit in Council, -with Messire de Balagny there, and Monseigneur d'Inchy -presiding. They, too, appear grimly resolved to endure -and to hold out; the fire of patriotism and of enthusiasm -burns in their hearts, as it does in the heart of every burgher, -noble or churl in the city. But, side by side with enthusiasm, -stalks the grim shadow of prescience—knowledge of the -resources which go, diminishing bit by bit, until the inevitable -hour when hands and mouths will still be stretched out -for food and there will be nothing left to give. -</p> - -<p> -Even now, it is less than bare subsistence which can be -doled out day by day; and in more than one face assembled -this day around the Council Board, there is limned the grim -line of nascent despair. -</p> - -<p> -It is only d'Inchy who has not lost one particle of his -faith, one particle of self-confidence and of belief in ultimate -triumph. -</p> - -<p> -'If ye begin to doubt,' he exclaims with tragic directness, -'how will ye infuse trust in the hearts of your people?' -</p> - -<p> -The Chief Magistrate shakes his head; the Provosts -are silent. More than one man wipes a surreptitious tear. -</p> - -<p> -'We must give the people something to hearten them,' -has been the persistent call from those in authority. -</p> - -<p> -De Balagny interposes: -</p> - -<p> -'Our spies have succeeded in evading the Spanish lines -more than once. One of them returned yesterday from La -Fère. He says the Duc d'Anjou is wellnigh ready. The -next month should see the end of our miseries.' -</p> - -<p> -'A month!' sighs the Chief Magistrate. 'The people -cannot hold out another month. They are on the verge of -despair.' -</p> - -<p> -'They begin to murmur,' adds one of the Provosts glumly. -</p> - -<p> -'And some demand that we surrender the city,' concludes -de Lalain. -</p> - -<p> -'Surrender the city!' exclaimed d'Inchy vehemently. 'Never!' -</p> - -<p> -'Then can Monseigneur suggest something?' riposts -the Chief Magistrate dryly, 'that will restore confidence to -a starving population?' -</p> - -<p> -'The help from France almost within sight,' urges -Monseigneur. -</p> - -<p> -The Provosts shrug their shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -'So long delayed,' one of them says. 'The people have -ceased to believe in it.' -</p> - -<p> -'Many declare the Duke is dead,' urges another. -</p> - -<p> -'But ye know better than that, Messires,' retorts d'Inchy -sternly. -</p> - -<p> -Again one or two of the older men shrug their shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -'I saw him fall from the ramparts,' asserts one. -</p> - -<p> -'He was struck full in the breast by an arrow,' says -another, 'shot by an unseen hand—some abominable -assassin. His Highness gave one turn and fell into the -moat below.' -</p> - -<p> -'And was immediately found and picked up by some of -my men,' retorts de Balagny hotly. 'Mine oath on it! -Our spies have seen him—spoken with him. The Duc -d'Anjou is alive and on his way to Cambray. I'd stake on -it the salvation of my soul!' -</p> - -<p> -The others sigh, some of them dubiously, others with -renewed hope. From their talk we gather that not one -of them has any doubt in his mind as to the identity of the -brave defender of Cambray. Nothing had in truth happened -to shake their faith in him, and de Balagny had said nothing -to shake that faith. On that fateful day in April they had -been convened to witness the betrothal of Madame Jacqueline -de Broyart to <i>Monsieur</i> Duc d'Anjou, had been presented -to His Highness and kissed his hands. Then suddenly -all had been confusion—the panic, the surprise attack, the -runaway soldiers, and finally the one man who rallied every -quaking spirit and defended the city with heart and mind, -with counsel and strength of arm, until he fell by an unseen -assassin's hand: he, the Duc d'Anjou, of the princely House -of France—the future Sovereign Lord of a United Netherlands. -</p> - -<p> -For awhile there is absolute stillness in the Council room. -No one speaks; hardly does any one stir. Only the massive -clock over the monumental hearth ticks out every succeeding -second with relentless monotony. Monseigneur is -buried in thought. The others wait, respectfully silent. -Then suddenly d'Inchy looks up and gazes determinedly -on the faces round him. -</p> - -<p> -'Madame Jacqueline must help us,' he says firmly. -</p> - -<p> -'Madame Jacqueline?' the Chief Magistrate exclaims. 'How?' -</p> - -<p> -'On the Place d'Armes—one evening—during the intercession,' -Monseigneur goes on, speaking rapidly and with -unhesitating resolve. 'She will make a solemn declaration -before the assembled people—plight her troth to the Duc -d'Anjou, who, though still absent, has sent her a token of -his immediate arrival.' -</p> - -<p> -'Sent her a token?' most of them murmur, astonished. -And even de Balagny frowns in puzzlement. -</p> - -<p> -'Yes,' rejoins d'Inchy impatiently. 'Cannot you see? -You say the people no longer believe in the coming of His -Highness. Our spies and the news they bring no longer -carry weight. But if we say that the Duke hath sent a -token....' -</p> - -<p> -'I understand,' murmurs the Chief Magistrate, and the -others nod in comprehension. -</p> - -<p> -'Madame Jacqueline will not demur,' d'Inchy continues -insistently. 'She will accept the assurance from me that -one of our spies has come in contact with <i>Monsieur</i> and -brought back a fresh token of his promise to her ... a -ring, for instance. We have many valuable ones in our -city treasury. One of them will serve our purpose.' Then, -as the city dignitaries are still silent, somewhat perturbed -at all that sophistry—''Tis for the sake of our city, Messires,' -d'Inchy urges with a note of pleading in his usually -commanding voice. 'A little deception, when so much good -may come of it! what is it? Surely you can reconcile it -with your consciences!' -</p> - -<p> -To him the matter seems trivial. One deception more -or less—hitherto the path had been so easy. He frowns, -seeing that this tiresome pack of old men hesitate, when -to acquiesce might even now save their city. Anyhow, he -is the governor. His word is law. For the nonce he chooses -to argue and to persuade, but anon he commands. -</p> - -<p> -The city dignitaries—the old men for the most part, and -with impaired health after weeks of privation—have but -little real resistance in them. D'Inchy was always a man -of arbitrary will and persuasive eloquence. De Balagny is -soon won over. He ranges himself on the side of the -governor, and helps in the work of demolishing the bulwark -of the Magistrate's opposition. The latter yields—reluctantly, -perhaps—but still he yields. After all, there -is no harm whatever in the deception. No one could -possibly suffer in consequence. Madame Jacqueline has always -expressed herself ready to marry the Duc d'Anjou—a -hero and a doughty knight, if ever there was one!—and in -any case it were an inestimable boon to put fresh heart -into the starving population. -</p> - -<p> -So gradually the others yield, and Monseigneur is satisfied. -He elaborates his plan, his mind full of details to -make the result more sure. A public ceremony: Jacqueline -once more publicly betrothed to the Duc d'Anjou—dedicated, -in fact, like a worshipper to some patron saint. -Then the people made to realize that the Duc d'Anjou -is already known to them as their hero, their defender and -their saviour; that he is not dead, but coming back to -them very soon at the head of his armies this time, to save -them once for all from the Spaniards, whilst he remains -with them to the end of his days as their chosen Sovereign -Lord and King. -</p> - -<p> -Monseigneur has worked himself up to a high pitch of -enthusiasm, carries the others with him now, until they -cast aside all foreboding and gloom and hope springs afresh -in their hearts. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -VI -</h4> - -<p> -Thus we see the third and last picture which Enguerrand -de Manuchet shows us of Cambray in her agony. It is a -picture that is even more vivid than the others, more alive -in the intensity of its pathos. We see inside the citadel -on the last day of July, 1581. And of all the episodes -connected with the memorable siege of Cambray and with its -heroic defence, not one perhaps is more moving than that -of this huge concourse of people—men, women and tiny -children—assembled here and for such a purpose, under -the blue dome of the sky. -</p> - -<p> -The grim walls of the ancient castle around them are -hung with worn and tattered flags; they are like the interior -of a church, decked out with all the solemnity of a marriage -ceremony and all the pathos of a De Profundis. -</p> - -<p> -Jacqueline, indifferent to everything save to the welfare -of the city, has accepted without resistance or doubt -Monseigneur's story of the spy, the Duc d'Anjou and the token. -The ring, borrowed for the occasion from the city treasury, -she has taken without any misgiving, as coming straight -from the man whom she is destined to marry. She had -promised long ago to wed <i>Monsieur</i> Duc d'Anjou, because -the weal of her country was, it seems, wrapped up in that -union. All those who worked for the glorious future of -Flanders had assured her that much of it depended in her -acquiescence to this alliance with France. -</p> - -<p> -With her heart for ever buried beneath the ramparts -of Cambray, side by side with the gallant knight who had -given his life for the beloved city, she cared little, if at all, -what became of her. The Duc d'Anjou or another—what -did it matter?—but preferably the Duc d'Anjou if her -country's welfare demands that he should be the man. -</p> - -<p> -No wonder that this last picture stirs even the heart of -the dry-as-dust old historian to enthusiasm. Noble and -churl, burghers and dignitaries and soldiers, toilers and -ragamuffins, all are there—those who can walk or stand or -crawl. Those who are hale drag or support those that are -sick, bring tattered mattresses along or a litter of straw for -them to lie on. But they all come to see a woman make -a solemn profession of faith in the man who is to bring -deliverance to the agonizing city. -</p> - -<p> -They come in their thousands; but thousands more are -unable to find room upon the Place or within the Citadel. -Even so, they line the streets all the way to the Archiepiscopal -Palace, whilst all those who are so privileged watch -Madame Jacqueline's progress through the streets from their -windows or their balconies. Fortunately the day has been -brilliantly fine ever since morning, and the sun shines radiant -upon this one day which is almost a happy one. -</p> - -<p> -For many hours before that fixed for the ceremony, the -streets seethe with the crowd—a pathetic crowd, in truth: -gaunt, feeble, weary, in tattered clothes, some scarce able -to drag themselves along, others sick and emaciated, clinging -to the posts at the corners of the streets, just to get -one peep at what has come to be regarded as a tangible -ray of hope. A silent, moveless crowd, whose husky voice -has scarce a cheer in it; as Jacqueline passes by, walking -between Monseigneur the governor and the Chief Magistrate, -bare arms are waved here and there, in a feeble attempt -at jubilation. But there is no music, no beating of drums -or waving of banners; there is no alms-giving, no largesse! -All that the rich and the prosperous possessed in the past -has been shared and distributed long ago. -</p> - -<p> -In spite of the brilliant weather, the scene is dark and -dreary. The weary, begrimed faces do not respond to the -joyous kiss of the sun; the smile of hope has not the power -to dry every tear. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -VII -</h4> - -<p> -And now Jacqueline stands, like a white Madonna lily, -in the centre of the Place d'Armes. Monseigneur the -governor is beside her and around her are grouped the high -dignitaries of the city, standing or sitting upon low -velvet-covered stools. The Chief Magistrate and Messire de -Balagny are in the forefront, and behind them are the -members of the States General and of the Town, the Provosts -and Captains of the City Guard. The picture is sombre -still, despite the banners of the guilds and the flags of various -provinces which hang along the walls of the Citadel. The -russets and browns, the blacks and dull reds, absorb the -evening light without throwing back any golden reflections. -The shadows are long and dense. -</p> - -<p> -The white satin of Jacqueline's gown is the one bright -note of colour against the dull and drab background; its -stiff folds gleam with honey-coloured lights in the slowly -sinking sun. She has allowed old Nicolle to deck her out -in all her finery, the gown which she wore on that -night—oh! so very long ago—at the banquet, the one with the -pale green underdress which Messire declared made her -look so like a lily; the pearls in her hair; the velvet -shoes on her feet. -</p> - -<p> -'I will plight my troth publicly to the Defender of -Cambray!' she had said to her guardian, when Monseigneur -had first spoken of the proposed ceremony. -</p> - -<p> -'To Monsieur Duc d'Anjou et d'Alençon, my child,' -Monseigneur had insisted, and frowned slightly at what he -called his ward's romantic fancies. -</p> - -<p> -''Tis to the Defender of Cambray that I will dedicate -my faith,' she had continued obstinately. -</p> - -<p> -'Let the child be!' de Lalain had interposed, seeing -that d'Inchy was about to lose his temper. 'After all, -what does it matter, seeing that the Defender of Cambray -and Monsieur Duc d'Anjou are one and the same?' -</p> - -<p> -D'Inchy gave in. It did not really matter. If Jacqueline -still harboured a doubt as to the identity of the masked -stranger, it would soon be dispelled when Monsieur entered -Cambray and came to claim her openly. Women were apt -to have strange fancies; and this one, on Jacqueline's part, -was harmless enough. -</p> - -<p> -In any case, she appeared satisfied, and henceforth was -quite submissive. In the midst of her sorrow, she felt a -sweet, sad consolation in the thought that she would -publicly plight her troth to the man whom she loved, proclaim -before the whole world—her world that is, the only one -that mattered—that she was for ever affianced to the brave -man who had given his life, that Cambray might be saved. -</p> - -<p> -In an inward vision she could see him still, as she saw -him on that day upon the ramparts, with the April sun -gilding his close-cropped head, with the light of enthusiasm -dancing in his eyes, his arms bare, his clothes torn, his -vibrant voice resounding from wall to wall and from bastion -to bastion, till something of his own fire was communicated -to all those who fought under his command. -</p> - -<p> -To Jacqueline he was still so marvellously, so powerfully -alive, even though his body lay stark and still at the foot -of those walls which he had so bravely defended. He seemed -to be smiling down on her from the clear blue of the sky, -to nod at her with those banners which he had helped to -keep unsullied before the foe. She heard his voice through -the lengthy perorations of Monseigneur, the murmured -approbation of the Provosts, through the cheers of the people. -She felt his presence now as she had felt it through the -past four weary months, while Cambray suffered and -starved, and bore starvation and misery with that -fortitude which he had infused into her. -</p> - -<p> -And while Monseigneur the governor spoke his preliminary -harangue, to which the people listened in silence, she -stood firm and ready to speak the words which, in accordance -with the quaint and ancient Flemish custom, would -betroth her irrevocably to the man chosen for her by her -guardians, even though he happened to be absent at the -moment. For her, those words, the solemn act, would -only register the vow which she had made long ago, the -vow which bound her soul for ever to the hero who had -gone. -</p> - -<p> -'It is my purpose,' Monseigneur said solemnly, 'to plight -this my lawful ward, Jacqueline, Dame de Broyart et de -Morchipont, Duchesse et Princesse de Ramèse, d'Espienne -et de Wargny, unto His Royal Highness, Hercule François -de Valois, Duc d'Alençon et d'Anjou, and I hereby desire -to ask the members of my Council to give their consent to -this decree.' -</p> - -<p> -And the Chief Magistrate, speaking in the name of the -States General and of the City and Provincial Council, -then gave answer: -</p> - -<p> -'Before acceding to your request, Monseigneur, we -demand to know whether Hercule François of Valois, Duc -d'Alençon et d'Anjou, is an honourable man, and possessed -of sufficient goods to ensure that Madame Jacqueline de -Broyart et de Morchipont, Duchesse et Princesse de Ramèse, -d'Espienne et de Wargny, continue to live as she hath done -hitherto and in a manner befitting her rank.' -</p> - -<p> -Whereupon Messire de Balagny made reply: -</p> - -<p> -'His Royal Highness is a prince of the House of France; -he defended our city in the hour of her gravest peril and -saved her from destruction and from the fury of our Spanish -foe. He is in every way worthy to have our ward for -wife.' -</p> - -<p> -'Wherefore, most honourable seigneurs,' continued the -governor solemnly, 'I do desire by your favour to grant -the hand of Madame Jacqueline to him in marriage.' -</p> - -<p> -'This request we would grant you, Monseigneur,' rejoined -the Chief Magistrate, 'but would ask you first how it comes -that the bridegroom himself is not here to claim his bride.' -</p> - -<p> -'The bridegroom,' replied d'Inchy, slowly and loudly, -so that his voice could be heard, clear and distinct, in every -corner of the great courtyard. 'The bridegroom is even at -this hour within sight of our beleaguered city. He is at -the head of his armies and only waits a favourable -opportunity for demanding from the Spanish commander that the -latter do give him battle. The bridegroom, I say, hath -sent us a token of his goodwill and an assurance that he -will not tarry. He hath asked that Madame Jacqueline -do plight her troth to him before the assembled people of -Cambray, so that they may know that he is true and -faithful unto them and take heart of courage against his speedy -coming for their deliverance.' -</p> - -<p> -A murmur—it could not be called a cheer, for voices -were hoarse and spent—went the round of the crowd. There -were nods of approval; and a gleam of hope, almost of -joy, lit up many a wan face and many a sunken eye. After -so many deceptions, so much weary waiting and hope -deferred, this was at least something tangible, something -to cling to, whilst battling against the demons of hunger -and disease which so insidiously called for surrender. -</p> - -<p> -The Chief Magistrate, who together with Monseigneur -had been chiefly instrumental in engineering the present -situation, waited for a moment or two, giving time for the -governor's cheering words to soak well into the minds of -the people. He was a tall, venerable-looking old burgher, -with a white beard clipped close to his long, thin face, and -a black velvet bonnet, now faded to a greenish hue by -exposure to all weathers, set upon his scanty hair. He drew -up his bent shoulders and threw back his head with a gesture -expressive both of confidence and of determination, and -he allowed his deep-set eyes beneath their bushy brows to -wander over the populace, as if to say: 'See how right I -was to bid you hope! Here you have an actual proof that -the end of your sufferings is in sight, that the deliverance -for which you pray is already at your gate!' After which, -he turned once again to d'Inchy and said loftily: -</p> - -<p> -'Monseigneur the governor! the people of Cambray here -assembled have heard with profound respect the declaration -which you have deigned to make, as to the intentions of -His Royal Highness the Duc d'Anjou et d'Alençon. On -their behalf and on the behalf of the States of this Town -and Province whom I represent, I hereby affirm most -solemnly that we have the weal of our city at heart; that -we will resist the armies of the Duke of Parma with the -whole might of our arms and our will, awaiting tranquilly -and with fortitude the hour of our deliverance. We trust -and believe that he who defended us so valiantly four months -ago will soon return to us, and rid us once and for ever -from the menace of our foe.' -</p> - -<p> -Once more a murmur of approval went round the Place. -Wearied, aching heads nodded approval; firm lips, thin -and pale, were set with a recrudescence of energy. All -the stoicism of this heroic race was expressed in their -simple acceptance of this fresh term of endurance imposed -upon them, in their willingness to hope on again, to wait -and to submit, and in their mute adhesion to the profession -of faith loudly proclaimed by their Chief dignitary: -'awaiting tranquilly and with fortitude the hour of our -deliverance.' -</p> - -<p> -'And now, Monseigneur,' concluded the Magistrate -impressively, 'in the name of your Council, I herewith make -acceptance of His Royal Highness, Hercule François of -Valois, Duc d'Alençon et d'Anjou, prince of the House of -France, defender and saviour of Cambray, to be the future -husband and guardian of Madame Jacqueline de Broyart, -our ward.' -</p> - -<p> -Monseigneur the governor now drew his sword, held it -upright and placed on it a hat and round his arm a mantle; -then he took the ring, which had been borrowed from the -city treasury for the occasion, and hung it on a projecting -ornament of his sword-hilt. After which he said, with -great solemnity: -</p> - -<p> -'With these emblems I hereby entrust to His Royal -Highness Hercule François de Valois, Duc d'Anjou et -d'Alençon, prince of the House of France, the defender and -saviour of Cambray in the hour of her gravest peril, the -custody of my ward Jacqueline, Dame de Broyart et de -Morchipont, Duchesse et Princesse de Ramèse, d'Espienne -et de Wargny; and as I have been her faithful custodian -in the past, so do I desire him to become her guardian and -protector henceforth, taking charge of her worldly possessions -and duly administering them faithfully and loyally.' -</p> - -<p> -After which he lowered his sword, put down the hat and -the mantle and presented the ring to Jacqueline, together -with seven gloves, saying the while: -</p> - -<p> -'Jacqueline, take these in exchange for the emblems of -marital authority which I herewith hold for and on behalf -of your future lord, and in the presence of all the people -of Cambray here assembled, I demand that you do plight -your troth to him and that you swear to be true and faithful -unto him, to love and cherish him with your heart and -your body, to obey and serve him loyally as his wife and -helpmate, until death.' -</p> - -<p> -Jacqueline, by all the canons of this quaint custom, -should have held the ring and the gloves in her left hand -and taken the solemn oath with her right raised above her -head. Instead of which, Manuchet assures us that she laid -down the ring and the gloves upon the chair nearest to her, -and clasped her two hands together as if in prayer. She -raised her small head and looked out upon the sky—there -where the setting sun hid its glory behind a filmy veil of -rose-tinted clouds. -</p> - -<p> -'In the name of the living God who made me,' she said, -with solemn and earnest fervour, 'I do hereby plight my -troth to my lord, the noble and puissant hero who defended -Cambray in the hour of her gravest peril, who saved her -from destruction and taught her citizens how to conquer -and to endure, and I swear upon my life and upon my every -hope of salvation that I will be true and faithful unto him, -that I will love and cherish him with my heart and with -my body and will serve him loyally and unswervingly now -and alway until our souls meet in the presence of God.' -</p> - -<p> -A great hush had fallen on the vast courtyard while -Jacqueline de Broyart made her profession of faith; nor did -a sound mar the perfect stillness which lay over the heavy-laden -city. This was a time of great silences—silence of -sorrow, of anxiety and pain. The women frankly gave -way to tears; but they were tears that fell soundlessly -from hollow eyes. The men did not weep—they just -set their teeth, and culled in that one woman's fervour fresh -power for their own endurance. -</p> - -<p> -The city dignitaries crowded round Jacqueline, kissing -and pressing her hands. Monseigneur the governor was -looking greatly relieved. From the tower of Notre Dame, -the bells set forth a joyous peal—the first that had been -heard for many months. And that peal was presently -taken up, first by one church tower and then another, from -St. Waast to St. Martin, Ste. Croix to St. Géry. The happy -sound echoed and reverberated along the city walls, broke -with its insidious melody the gloomy silence which had -lain over the streets like a pall. -</p> - -<p> -Far away in the west the sun was slowly sinking in a -haze of translucent crimson, and tipped every church spire, -every bastion and redoubt with rose and orange and gold. -For the space of a few more minutes the citadel with -its breathless and fervid crowd, with its waving banners -and grey walls, was suffused as with a flush of life and hope. -Then the shadows lengthened—longer and longer they grew, -deeper and more dense, like great, drab arms that enfold -and conceal and smother. Slowly the crimson glow faded -out of the sky. -</p> - -<p> -Now the group in the centre appeared only like a sombre -mass of dull and lifeless colours; Jacqueline's white satin -gown took on a leaden hue; the brilliance of the sky had -become like a presage of storm. The women shivered -beneath their ragged kerchiefs; some of the children started -to cry. -</p> - -<p> -Then, one by one, the crowd began to disperse. Walking, -halting, crawling, they wended their way back to their -dreary homes,—there to wait again, to suffer and to endure; -there to conceal all the heroism of this patient resignation, -all the stoicism of a race which no power could conquer, -no tyranny force into submission. -</p> - -<p> -And once more silence descended on the hapless city, -and the mantle of night lay mercifully upon her grievous -wounds. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -VIII -</h4> - -<p> -And far away in the Spanish camps, the soldiers and their -captains marvelled how joy-bells could be ringing in a city -which was in the throes of her death agony. But the Duke -of Parma knew what it meant, as did the members of his -staff—del Fuente, his second in command, de Salvado, -Bracamonte, de Landas and the others. More than one -of their wily spies had succeeded before now in swimming -across the Schelde and in scaling the tumble-down walls -of the heroic city, and had brought back the news of what -was doing in there, in the midst of a starving and obstinate -population. -</p> - -<p> -'The public betrothal to a fickle Prince who will never -come,' said the Duke grimly, between his teeth. 'At any -rate, not before we have worked our will with those mulish -rebels.' -</p> - -<p> -'We could take their pestilent town by storm to-morrow,' -remarked de Landas, with a note of fierce hatred in his -voice, 'if your Highness would but give the order.' -</p> - -<p> -'Bah!' retorted the Duke. 'Let them rot! Why -should we waste valuable lives and precious powder, when -the next few days must see the final surrender of that peccant -rat-hole?' -</p> - -<p> -He gave a coarse laugh and shrugged his shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -'I believe,' he said to de Landas, 'that I once promised -you Cambray and all that it contains—what?' -</p> - -<p> -'For ridding your Highness of the abominable rebel -who organized the defence last April,' assented de Landas. -'Yes! Cambray and all that it contains was to be my -reward.' -</p> - -<p> -'You killed the miscreant, I believe?' -</p> - -<p> -'I shot him through the heart. He lies rotting now -beneath the walls.' -</p> - -<p> -'Well!' riposted the Duke. 'You earned your reward -easily enough. There will be plenty left in Cambray, -even after I have had my first pick of its treasures.' -</p> - -<p> -De Landas made no protest. It would have been not -only useless, but also impolitic to remind His Highness -that, at the moment when he offered Cambray and all its -contents to the man who would rid him of a valiant foe, -he had made no proviso that he himself should fill his pockets -first. There was no honour among these thieves and no -probity in these savage tyrants—brute beasts, most of them, -who destroyed and outraged whatever resisted their might. -So de Landas held his tongue; for even so, he was not -dissatisfied. The Duke, being rid of the rebel whom he feared, -might easily have repudiated the ignoble bargain in its -entirety, and de Landas would have had no redress. -</p> - -<p> -As it was, there was always Jacqueline. The Spanish -commanders were wont to make short shrift of Flemish -heiresses who happened to be in a city which they entered -as conquerors. By decree of His Highness, Jacqueline de -Broyart would certainly be allocated to him—de Landas—if -he chose to claim her. Of a truth, she was still well -worth having—more so than ever, perhaps; for her spirit -now would be chastened by bodily privations, broken by -humiliation at the hands of the faithless Valois and by the -death of her mysterious lover. -</p> - -<p> -'So long as the heiress is there for me,' he said carelessly -to the Duke, 'I am satisfied to let every other treasure -go.' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh! you shall have the heiress,' riposted His Highness -hilariously. 'Rumour hath described her as passing fair. -You lucky devil! Methinks you were even betrothed to -her once.' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh! long ago, your Highness. Since then the oily -promises of the Duc d'Anjou have helped to erase my image -from the tablets of Madame Jacqueline's heart.' -</p> - -<p> -'Then she'll be all the more ready to fall back into your -arms, now that she has discovered the value of a Valois -prince's faith.' -</p> - -<p> -After which pronouncement, the Duke of Parma dismissed -the matter from his mind and turned his attention -to the table, richly spread with every kind of delicacy, -which had been laid for him in his tent. He invited the -gentlemen of his staff to sit, and as he dug his fork into -the nearest succulent dish, he said complacently: -</p> - -<p> -'Those pestiferous rebels out there cannot have as much -as a mouse between the lot of them, to fill their Flemish -paunches. Messeigneurs, here is to Cambray!' he added, -as he lifted his silver goblet filled to the brim with Rhenish -wine. 'To Cambray, when we march through her streets, -ransack her houses and share her gold! To Cambray, and -the pretty Flemish wenches, if so be they have an ounce -of flesh left upon their bones! To de Landas' buxom heiress -and his forthcoming marriage with her! To you all, and -the spoils which these many months of weary waiting will -help you to enjoy! To Cambray, all ye gallant seigneurs!' -</p> - -<p> -His lusty toast was greeted with loud laughter. Metal -goblets clicked one against the other, every one drank to -the downfall of the rebellious city. De Landas accepted -the jocose congratulations of his boon-companions. He, -too, raised his goblet aloft, and having shouted: 'To -Jacqueline!' drained it to its last drop. -</p> - -<p> -But when he set the goblet down, his hand was shaking -perceptibly. Cain-like, he had seen a vision of the man -whom he had so foully murdered. Accidentally he knocked -over a bottle of red Burgundy, which stood on the table -close by, and the linen cloth all around him was spread -over with a dark crimson stain, which to the assassin -appeared like the colour of blood. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap26"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXVI -<br /><br /> -WHAT VALUE A VALOIS PRINCE SET UPON HIS WORD -</h3> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -I -</h4> - -<p> -To Gilles de Crohin, when he woke to consciousness one -morning in his former lodging in La Fère, the whole -of the past few weeks appeared indeed like a long dream. -</p> - -<p> -Cambray—Jacqueline—his mask—his deceit—that last -day upon the ramparts—were they not all the creations of -his fevered brain? Surely a whole lifetime could not be -crowded into so short a space of time. No man could have -lived through so much, loved so passionately, have lost and -fought and conquered so strenuously, all within a few weeks. -</p> - -<p> -And when, after many days' enforced rest and a good -deal of attention from a skilful leech backed by Maître -Jehan's unwavering care, he was once more on his feet and -was able to relate to Madame la Reyne de Navarre the many -vicissitudes of his perilous adventure, it seemed to him as -if he were recounting to a child, fairy tales and dream stories -which had never been. -</p> - -<p> -It was only at evening, when he wandered round the little -Dutch garden at the back of the house where he lodged, -that Jacqueline came to him, aglow with life—a living, -breathing, exquisite reality. For the Madonna lilies were -all abloom in that garden just then: tall, stately white -lilies, which bordered one of the narrow paths. They had -slender, pale green stems, their fragrance filled the evening -air and the soft breeze stirred their delicate crowns. Then -it would seem to Gilles as if his Jacqueline were walking -down the path beside him, that the breeze blew the tendrils -of her fair hair against his nostrils and that her voice filled -his ear with its sweet, melodious sound. A big heartache -would make the rough soldier sigh with longing then. -Unseen by any one, alone with his thoughts of her, he would -stretch out his arms to that tantalizing vision which seemed -so real and was yet so far, so very far away. -</p> - -<p> -Madame la Reyne would at times chaff him about his -moodiness, and he himself was ready to laugh aloud at his -own folly. What right had he—the uncouth soldier of -fortune, the homeless adventurer—to think of the great -and noble lady, who was as far removed from him as were -the stars? What right indeed? Even though Marguerite -de Navarre, lavish in her gratitude, had already showered -honours and wealth upon the man who had served her so -faithfully. -</p> - -<p> -'Monseigneur le Prince de Froidmont,' she had said to -him with solemn earnestness, on the day when first she had -realized how completely he had worked out her own schemes; -'the lands of Froide Monte, which are some of the richest -in Acquitaine, were a part of my dowry when I married. -They are yours now, as they once were the property of -your forebears. They are yours, with their forests, their -streams and their castles. Take them as a poor token of -my lifelong gratitude.' And when Gilles demurred, -half-indifferent even to so princely a gift, she added with her -habitual impatience: 'Pardieu, Messire, why should you -be too proud to accept a gift from me, seeing that I was -not too proud to ask so signal a service of you?' -</p> - -<p> -Even so, that gift—so graciously offered, so welcome to -the man's pride of ancestry—had but little value in his -sight, since he could not do with it the one thing that -mattered, which was to lay it at Jacqueline's feet. -</p> - -<p> -'Do not look so morose, Messire,' Marguerite de Navarre -said teasingly. 'I vow that you have left your heart -captive in Cambray.' Then as Gilles, after this straight -hit, remained silent and absorbed, she added gaily: 'Have -no fear, Messire! When <i>Monsieur</i> is Lord of the Netherlands, -he will force the lady of your choice into granting -you her favours. Remember!' she said more seriously, -'that the Prince de Froidmont can now aspire to the hand -of the richest and most exalted lady in the land.' -</p> - -<p> -'Monseigneur is still far from being Lord of the Netherlands,' -Gilles said dryly, chiefly with a view to inducing a -fresh train of thought in the royal lady's mind. -</p> - -<p> -Marguerite shrugged her pretty shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -'He still procrastinates,' she admitted. 'He should be -at La Fère by now, with five thousand troops. Everything -was ready when I left Paris.' -</p> - -<p> -'He has found something else to distract him,' rejoined -Gilles, with unconscious bitterness. 'Perhaps Mme. de -Marquette has resumed her sway over him, the while -Cambray waits and starves.' -</p> - -<p> -'Chien sabe?' allowed Madame la Reyne with an -impatient sigh. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -II -</h4> - -<p> -The while Cambray waits and starves! That was indeed -the deathly sting which poisoned Gilles de Crohin's very -life during those four dreary months, while <i>Monsieur</i> Duc -d'Anjou was ostensibly making preparations for his expedition -for the relief of the beleaguered city. Ostensibly in -truth, for very soon his fond sister had to realize that, -now as always, that fickle brother of hers was playing his -favourite game of procrastination and faithlessness. With -him, in fact, faithlessness had become an obsession. It -seemed as if he could not act or think straight, as if he -could not keep his word. Now, while he was supposed to -recruit his troops, to consult with his officers, to provide -for engines and munitions of war, he actually deputed his -long-suffering and still faithful friend, Gilles de Crohin, -to do the work for him. His own thoughts had once more -turned to a possible marriage—not with Jacqueline de -Broyart, to whom he was bound by every conceivable tie -of honour and of loyalty—but with Elizabeth of England, -whom he coveted because of her wealth, and the power -which so brilliant an alliance would place in his hands. -</p> - -<p> -But of these thoughts he did not dare to speak even to -the adoring sister, who most certainly would have turned -her back on him for ever had she known that he harboured -such dishonourable projects. He did not dare to speak of -them even to Gilles, for he felt that this would strain his -friend's loyalty to breaking point. He entered outwardly -into the spirit of the proposed expedition with all the zest -which he could muster, but the moment he was no longer -under Marguerite de Navarre's own eyes he did not lift -another finger in its organization. -</p> - -<p> -'Turenne and la Voute are quite capable of going to the -relief of Cambray without me,' he said to Gilles with a yawn -and a lazy stretch of his long, loose limbs. 'I have never -been counted a good commander, and Parma is always a -difficult problem to tackle. Let Turenne go, I say. My -brother Henri lauds him as the greatest general of the day, -and the rogue hath fought on the Spanish side before now, -so he hath all their tricks at his fingers' ends.' -</p> - -<p> -<i>Monsieur</i> was in Paris then, and Marguerite de Navarre, -wellnigh distraught, had entreated Gilles to stir him into -immediate activity. -</p> - -<p> -'Cambray will fall before that indolent brother of mine -gets there, Messire,' she had pleaded, with tears of impotent -anger in her eyes. -</p> - -<p> -Gilles had gone. He needed no goad even for so -distasteful a task. 'Cambray might fall!' The thought -drove him into a fever, from which he could find no solace -save in breathless activity. He found <i>Monsieur</i> in his -Palace in Paris, surrounded by the usual crowd of effeminate -youngsters and idle women, decked out in new-fangled, -impossible clothes, the creations of his own fancy, indolent, -vicious, incorrigible. Just now, when Gilles had come to -speak to him of matters that meant life or death, honour -or shame, the future welfare or downfall of a nation, he was -lounging in a huge armchair, his feet resting on a pile of -cushions. He was wearing one of his favourite satin suits, -with slashed doublet all covered with tags and ribbons; -he had gold earrings in his ears and was nursing a litter -of tiny hairless puppies, whom he was teasing with the -elaborate insignia of the Order of the Holy Ghost, wrought -in gold and set with diamonds, which he wore on a blue -ribband round his neck. -</p> - -<p> -Gilles looked down on him with a contempt that was -no longer good-humoured. Cambray was waiting and -starving whilst this miserable coxcomb idled away the -hours! Two months had gone by and practically nothing -had been done. There were no troops, no munitions, no -arms; and Cambray was waiting and starving! God -alone knew what miseries were being endured by those -valiant burghers over there, whom Gilles' own voice had -so easily rallied once to a stubborn and heroic defence! -God alone knew what his exquisite Jacqueline was being -made to suffer! At the thought, his very soul writhed in -torment. He could have raised his hands in measureless -anger against that effeminate nincompoop, and crushed the -last spark of a profligate and useless life out of him. As -it was, he had to entreat, to argue, almost to kneel, pleading -the cause of Cambray and of his proud Jacqueline—his -perfect and unapproachable lily, whom this miserable rag -of manhood was casting aside and spurning with a careless -wave of the hand. -</p> - -<p> -Ye gods! That he, of all men, should have been assigned -such a rôle! That Fate should have destined him to plead -for the very honour and safety of the woman whom he -worshipped, with a man whom he despised! And yet he -argued and he entreated because Madame la Reyne herself -vowed that no one could keep her brother in the path of -integrity now, except his friend Gilles de Crohin. She had -begged him not to leave Monsieur, not for a day, not if -possible for an hour! -</p> - -<p> -'He will give us the slip again,' she begged most earnestly; -'and be off to England after his wild-goose chase. -Elizabeth will never marry him—never! And we shall remain -before the world, uselessly discredited and shamed.' -</p> - -<p> -Alas! much precious time had in the meanwhile been -lost. News had come through that the Duke of Parma -had given up the thought of taking Cambray by storm and -had left del Fuente in temporary command with orders -to reduce her by starvation. -</p> - -<p> -But this was two months ago. -</p> - -<p> -Marguerite de Navarre, wearied to death, harassed by -<i>Monsieur's</i> inactivity, obstructed by the King of France, -was on the verge of despair. Cambray, according to the -most haphazard calculations, must be on the point of -surrender. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -III -</h4> - -<p> -Early in July, <i>Monsieur</i>, stung into a semblance of -activity by perpetual nagging from his sister and constant -goading from Gilles, did send M. de Turenne with an -insufficient force, ill-equipped and ill-found, to effect a -surprise attack against the Spanish army. -</p> - -<p> -We know how signally that failed. The blame naturally -was lavishly distributed. M. de Turenne, ignorant of his -ground, had, it was averred, employed guides who led him -astray. Spies and traitors amongst his troops were also -supposed to have got wind of his plans and to have betrayed -them to the Spanish commander. Certain it is that Turenne's -small force was surprised, cut up, Turenne himself taken -prisoner and that la Voute, his second, only escaped a like -fate by disguising himself as a woman and running with -the best of them back to La Fère. -</p> - -<p> -The blow had fallen, sudden, swift and terrible. When -the news was brought to Marguerite of Navarre she was -seized with so awful an attack of choler, that she fell into -unconsciousness and had to take to her bed. -</p> - -<p> -She sent for Gilles, who was eating out his heart in Paris, -playing the watch-dog over a dissolute Prince. At her -command he proceeded at once to La Fère. -</p> - -<p> -'All is not lost, Messire,' she said to him, as soon as his -calm, trust-inspiring presence had infused some semblance -of hope into her heart. 'But we must not allow <i>Monsieur</i> -to exert himself any more in the matter. His incapacity -alone matches his indolence.' -</p> - -<p> -She felt so ashamed and so humiliated, that Gilles wellnigh -forgot the grudge, which he really owed her for that -pitiable adventure into which she had thrust him, and -which was even now ending in disaster. -</p> - -<p> -'My spirit is wellnigh broken,' she continued, with -pathetic self-depreciation. 'If only, out of all this misery, -we could save one shred of our honour!' -</p> - -<p> -'Will your Majesty let me try?' Gilles said simply. -</p> - -<p> -'What do you mean?' she riposted. -</p> - -<p> -'Let me gather an army together. Let me do battle -against the Duke of Parma. Monseigneur hath proved -himself unwilling. We court disaster by allowing him thus -to fritter away both time and men. It was Turenne -yesterday; it will be Condé to-morrow, or Montmorency or -Bussy—anybody, any unfortunate or incompetent who is -willing to serve him! In God's name, Madame la Reyne,' -urged Gilles, with a tone of bitter reproach, 'do not let us -procrastinate any longer! Cambray is in her death-agony. -Let <i>me</i> go to her aid!' -</p> - -<p> -She made a final, half-hearted protest. -</p> - -<p> -'No! No!' she said. 'You cannot, must not leave -your post. If you do not keep watch over <i>Monsieur</i>, we -shall lose him altogether.' -</p> - -<p> -'Better that,' he retorted grimly, 'than that we should -lose Cambray.' -</p> - -<p> -'There you are right, Messire. Cambray now is bound -up with our honour.' -</p> - -<p> -She had become like a child—so different to her former -self-assured, almost arrogant self. Gilles, whose firm -purpose gave him the strength, had little ado to mould her -to his will. She had become malleable, yielding, humble -in her helplessness. Marguerite de Navarre was actually -ready to listen to advice, to let another think for her and -scheme. She accepted counsel with a blindness and -submissiveness which were truly pathetic. And Gilles—with -the vision before him of Jacqueline enduring all the horrors -of a protracted siege—was experiencing a semblance of -happiness at thought that at last he would have the power -of working for her. So he set to with a will, to make the -harassed Queen see eye to eye with him, to make her enter -into his ideas and his plans. -</p> - -<p> -'Your Majesty,' he said, 'has offered me the richest -lands in Aquitaine. I entreat you to take them back and -to give me their worth in money, and I'll gather together -an army that will know how to fight. Then, when we are -sure of victory, <i>Monsieur</i> can come and himself take -command. But in the meanwhile, we will beat the Duke of -Parma and relieve Cambray. This I swear to you by the -living God!' -</p> - -<p> -Marguerite was soon swept off her feet by his determination -and his enthusiasm. With naïve surrender, she laid -down her burden and left Gilles to shoulder it. Now at -last he could work for his Jacqueline! He could fight for -her, die for her when the time came! He could drive the -foe from her gates and bequeath to her, ere he fell, the -freedom of the country she loved so well. -</p> - -<p> -Night and day he toiled, not only with heart and will -but with the frenzy of despair; while Marguerite, ever -hopeful, ever deluded where that contemptible brother -of hers was concerned, flew to Paris to keep a watch over -him, then back to La Fère to concert with Gilles—hoping -against hope that all would still be well, ready to forgive -Monsieur even for the seventy times seventh time, confident -that she would still see him entering Cambray and marching -thence from city to city, the chosen Lord of the -Netherlands, more puissant than any King. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -IV -</h4> - -<p> -On the last day of July, Gilles de Crohin had his forces -ready, equipped, armed, provisioned, at La Fère, where -Marguerite de Navarre came herself in order to wish him -and the expedition God speed. -</p> - -<p> -But <i>Monsieur</i>—who had promised, nay sworn, he would -come too, in order to take command in person at the last, -when victory was assured—<i>Monsieur</i> had not arrived. -</p> - -<p> -For two sennights the devoted sister and the faithful -friend waited for him; but he did not come. Marguerite -sent courier upon courier after him to Paris, but he evaded -them all, and at one time nobody knew where he had hidden -himself. To his other vices and failings, this descendant -of a once noble race had added the supreme act of a coward. -What that final weary waiting meant for Gilles, not even a -veracious chronicler can describe. With Cambray almost in -sight, with the Spanish armies not two leagues away, with -his Jacqueline enduring every horror and every misery -which the aching heart of an absent lover can conjure up -before his tortured mind, he was forced to remain in -idleness, eating out his heart in regret, remorse and longing, -doubtful as to what the future might bring, tortured even -with the fear that, mayhap, in Cambray only a flower-covered -mound of earth would mark the spot where his -Jacqueline slept the last sleep of eternal rest. -</p> - -<p> -Then at last, upon the fourteenth day of August, a letter -came by runner from <i>Monsieur</i>, for the Queen of Navarre. -It had been written in Paris more than a week ago, and -obviously had been purposely delayed. It began with -many protestations of good-will, of love for his sister and -of confidence in his friend. Then the letter went on in a -kind of peevish strain: -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p class="quote"> -'I am quite convinced, My dear sister, that I am altogether -unfit for the kind of attack which the present Situation -demands. Now Gilles has a great deal more Energy than I -have, and a great deal more Knowledge. As you know, I -never had any longing for military Glory, and feel absolutely -no desire to make a State Entry into Cambray with a swarm -of starved or diseased Flemings hanging to my -stirrup-leathers. Let Gilles to all that. He seems to have had a -liking for that unsavoury Crowd. Then, by and by, if the -Spaniards, in the meanwhile, do not frustrate his Designs by -giving him a beating, I shall be ready to take up once more -the negotiations for my proposed Sovereignty of the -Netherlands. But understand, My dear Sister, that this happy -Event must come to pass without the co-operation of a -Flemish bride. Frankly, I have no liking for the Race, and -would be jeopardising My whole Future, by selling Myself -to the first Dutch wench that an untoward Fate would throw -in My way. Entre nous, Elizabeth of England has not been -so haughty with Me of late. Get Me that Kingdom of the -Netherlands by all means, My dear. I verily believe that -this accrued Dignity would ensure the favourable Acceptance -of My suit by the English Queen.' -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<p> -Marguerite had never made any secret before Gilles of -her brother's perfidy. Even this infamous letter she placed -loyally before him now. When he had finished reading -it and she saw the look of measureless contempt which flashed -through his eyes, she could have cried with shame and -misery. -</p> - -<p> -'What to do, Messire?' she exclaimed piteously. 'Oh, -my God! what to do?' -</p> - -<p> -'Relieve Cambray first and foremost, Madame,' he -replied firmly. 'After that, we shall see.' -</p> - -<p> -'But the Flemish lords!' she rejoined. 'Their anger! -Their contempt! I could not bear it, Messire! The shame -of it all will kill me!' -</p> - -<p> -'It has got to be borne, Madame! Cambray has suffered -enough. It is our turn now.' -</p> - -<p> -Nor would he discuss the matter any further, even with -her. The expedition had been entrusted to his hands, -and nothing would delay him now. Cambray was waiting -and starving, every hour might mean her final surrender. -The Spanish commander—apprised of <i>Monsieur</i> le Duc -d'Anjou's arrival with a strong force—had already offered -battle. Gilles was only too eager to accept the issue. -</p> - -<p> -On the fifteenth day of August, 1581, that battle was -fought on the plains outside Cambray. The issue was never -in doubt for one moment. Le Carpentier asserts that the -Duke of Parma, after six hours' stubborn fighting, surrendered -his position and all his forts and retired in great haste -in the direction of Valenciennes. -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<p><a id="chap27"></a></p> - -<h3> -CHAPTER XXVII -<br /><br /> -AND THIS IS THE END OF MY STORY -</h3> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -I -</h4> - -<p> -And into the silent desolation of Cambray's deserted -streets, there penetrated once again the sounds of -that life which was teeming outside her walls. From the -north and the south, from the east and the west, rumour, -like a wily sprite, flew over the crumbling walls and -murmured into ears that scarcely heard, that the promise given -long ago was being redeemed at last. Anxiety, sorrow and -suffering were coming to an end, so the elf averred. The -hero who fought and conquered once, had returned to -conquer again. -</p> - -<p> -Whereupon, those who had enough strength left in them -to drag themselves along, found their way to the ramparts, -from whence they could watch the approach of the man -who would bring them liberty if he succeeded, or bequeath -them an heroic death if he failed. There was no other -issue possible. The sands of Cambray's endurance had -run down; she had no more resistance left in her, scarcely -the power to suffer any longer. If the relieving army failed -to-day, the setting sun would see the Spanish soldiery, -drunk with victory, swarming over the lonely streets, -destroying all that famine and disease had left whole, all -that a dying population had no longer the strength to defend. -</p> - -<p> -Little could be seen of what went on in the distant plain, -and hollow eyes, wearied with weeping and anxiety, scanned -in vain the horizon far away. But those who had come -to watch remained to pray, while their minds, rendered -super-sensitive by bodily want, conjured up visions of -that grim fight which was going on beyond their range of -vision. -</p> - -<p> -The history of this heroic people has no more poignant -page than that which tells of this long watch by a crowd -of miserable, half-starved people, the while, out there upon -the plain, brave men fought and died for their sake. -</p> - -<p> -Not only for their sake, but for the honour of France. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -II -</h4> - -<p> -Once more the roar of artillery and of musketry fills the -air with its awe-inspiring sound. It is early morning, and -the sky heavily overcast. To the anxious watchers, that -grim struggle out there is only a dimly-perceived confusion, -a medley of sights and sounds, a clash of arms, the dull -thunder of culverines and sharp report of musketry. And, -as the grey light of day begins to pick out with crude -precision the more distant objects, a kaleidoscope of colour -vies in brilliancy with the flash of steel, and tears asunder -the drab mist which lies upon the bosom of the plain. -</p> - -<p> -The yellow and red of the Spaniards becomes easily -distinguishable, then the white and blue and gold of the -French, the green of the arquebusiers, the black of the -archers, and even that tiny moving speck, more brilliant -even than the gleam of metal, the white banner of France, -sown with her Fleur de Lys. -</p> - -<p> -But the watchers up on the ramparts vainly strain their -hollow eyes to see the man who has come to save Cambray. -They can only guess that he is there, where the fight is -fiercest, where death stands most grim and most relentless. -They have a knowledge of his presence keener than sight -can give, and though voices at this hour are spent and -hoarse with pain, yet to every roar of cannon, to every -volley of musketry, there comes, like an answering murmur, -the triumphant call, which now sounds like a prayer and -which their hero taught them four months ago: 'Fleur de -Lys and Liberty!' -</p> - -<p> -The French lancers and halberdiers rush the Spanish -forts. The arquebusiers are fighting foot by foot; the -musketeers and archers stand firm—a living wall, which -deals death and remains unmoved, despite furious onslaughts -from a foe who appears to be desperate. The plain around -is already strewn with dead. -</p> - -<p> -The French have fought valiantly for close on six hours, -have repelled nine assaults against their positions, and now, -at one hour after noon, they still stand or crouch or kneel -on one knee, crossbow in hand or musket, they fire, fall -out, reform and fire again. Shaken, battered, decimated, -they still shoot with coolness and precision, under the eye -of one who never tires. Their ranks are still unbroken, -but the Spaniards are giving ground at last. -</p> - -<p> -'This time we are undone!' Parma cries in the excess -of his rage. -</p> - -<p> -He himself has been twice wounded; four of his young -officers have been killed. The French musketeers, the -finest the world has ever seen, work relentlessly upon his -finest positions. And he feels—this great captain, who -hitherto hath not known defeat—he feels that now at -last he has met his match. Not a great leader like himself, -perhaps, not the victorious general in an hundred fights; -but a man whose stubbornness and daring, whose blind -disregard of danger and sublime defiance of evil fortune, -gives strength to the weakest and valour to the least bold. -</p> - -<p> -'I thought you had rid me once of that pestilential -rebel!' he exclaims to de Landas, pointing to where -Gilles de Crohin's tall figure towers above the pressing -mass of Spanish halberdiers. -</p> - -<p> -De Landas murmurs an imprecation, crosses himself in -an access of superstitious fear. -</p> - -<p> -'My God!' he says under his breath. 'He hath risen -from the dead!' -</p> - -<p> -In truth, Gilles appears endowed at this hour with -superhuman strength. His doublet and jerkin are torn, his -breastplate riddled with arrow-shot, he bleeds profusely -from the hand, his face is unrecognizable under a coating -of smoke and grime. Enthusiasm and obstinacy have -given him the power of giants; his hatred of the foe is -supreme; his contempt of death sublime. De Landas sees -in him the incarnation of his own retributive destiny. -'Oh, that God's thunder would smite him where he -stands!' he mutters fervently. -</p> - -<p> -''Tis too late now,' retorts Parma, with ferocious spite. -'Too late to call to God to help you. You should have -bargained with the devil four months ago, when you missed -your aim. Risen from the dead, forsooth!' he adds, -purple with fury. 'Very much alive now, meseems, and -with the strength of Satan in his arm.' -</p> - -<p> -He strikes at de Landas with his sword, would have -killed him with his own hand, so enraged is he with the -man for his failure to murder an enemy whom he loathes -and fears. -</p> - -<p> -'Unless those cowards rally,' he calls savagely, and -points to where, in the heart of the <i>mêlée</i>, confusion and -disorder wield their grisly sceptres, 'we shall have to -retreat.' -</p> - -<p> -But de Landas does not stop to hear. The fear of the -supernatural which had for the moment paralysed his -thinking faculties, is soon merged in that boundless hatred -which he feels for the rival whom he had thought dead -long ago. In the heart of that confusion he has spied -Gilles, fighting, pursuing; slashing, hitting—intrepid and -superb, the centre and the life of the victorious army. De -Landas sets spurs to his horse and, calling to his own troop -of swordsmen to follow, dashes into the <i>mêlée</i>. -</p> - -<p> -The battle now is at its fiercest. A proud army, superior -in numbers, in arms, in knowledge, feels itself weakening -before an enemy whose greatest power is his valour. The -retreat has not yet sounded, but the Spanish captains all -know that the humiliating end is in sight. Already their -pikemen have thrown down their cumbersome weapons. -Pursued by the French lancers, they turn and fight with -hands and fists, some of them; whilst others scatter in -every direction. The ranks of their archers are broken, -and the fire of their musketeers has become intermittent -and weak. Even the horsemen, the flower of Parma's -army, gentlemen all, are breaking in the centre. With -reins loose, stirrup-leathers flapping, swords cast away and -mantles flying loose, they are making a stand which is -obviously the last, and which within the next few minutes -will with equal certainty turn into rout. -</p> - -<p> -Here it is that Gilles is holding his own with a small -troop of French horsemen. His steel bonnet has been -knocked off, his wounded arm roughly bandaged, the sleeves -of his jerkin fly behind him like a pair of wings, his invincible -sword strikes and flashes and gleams in the grey afternoon -light. -</p> - -<p> -For a few seconds, while the distance between himself -and his enemy grows rapidly less, de Landas sees and hears -nothing. The blood is beating in his temples, with a weird -thumping which drowns the din of battle. His eyes are -blinded by a crimson veil; his hand, stiff and convulsed, -can scarcely grasp the pistol. The next instant he is in -the very thick of the turmoil. -</p> - -<p> -'For Spain and Our Lady!' he cries, and empties his -pistol into the seething mass of Spanish horsemen who bar -the way twixt him and his enemy. The horsemen are -scattered. Already on the verge of a stampede, they are -scared by this unexpected onslaught from the rear. They -fear to be taken between cross-fires, are seized with panic, -turn and flee to right and left. Two of them fall, hit by -that madman's pistol. All is now tumult and a whirling -ferment. The air is thick with smoke and powder, horses, -maddened with terror, snort and struggle and beat the air -with their hoofs. De Landas' own troop join in the <i>mêlée</i>; -the French horsemen dash in pursuit; there is a scrimmage, -a stampede; men fight and tear and hit and slash, for dear -life and for safety. -</p> - -<p> -But de Landas does not care, is past caring now. Another -disaster more or less, another scare, final humiliation, -what matters? The day is lost anyhow, and all his own -hopes finally dashed to the ground by the relief of Cambray -and the irrevocable loss to him of Jacqueline and her fortune. -Already he has thrown aside his smoking pistol, seized -another from the hand of his nearest follower, and points -it straight at Gilles. -</p> - -<p> -'For Spain and Our Lady!' -</p> - -<p> -'Fleur de Lys and Liberty!' -</p> - -<p> -The two cries rang out simultaneously—then the report -of de Landas' pistol, and Gilles' horse hit in the neck, -suddenly swerves, rears and paws the air, and would have -thrown its rider had not the latter jumped clean out of -the saddle. -</p> - -<p> -To de Landas' maddened gaze the smoke around appears -to be the colour of blood. Blindly he gropes for another -pistol. His henchman is near him, thrusts a weapon into -the young Spaniard's trembling hand. For the fraction of -a second, destiny, waiting, stays her hand. Gilles is free -of his struggling horse, he has his sword in his hand; but -de Landas once more points a pistol straight at him. -</p> - -<p> -'Satan! guide thou my hand this time!' he calls out, -in a passion of fury. -</p> - -<p> -Then suddenly a raucous cry rises above the din; there -is a double, sharp report, a loud curse, a final groan of -despair and of rage, and de Landas, struck in the breast -by an almost savage blow from a lance, throws up his arms, -falls, first on his knees, then backwards on the soft earth, -would have been buried then and there under a seething -mass of struggling men and beasts, had not Gilles rushed -to him with one bound, caught him by the shoulders and -dragged his now lifeless body to comparative shelter a few -paces away. Now Gilles picks up a fallen cloak from the -ground and lays it reverently over his fallen foe. -</p> - -<p> -'Because Jacqueline loved you once,' he murmurs under -his breath. -</p> - -<p> -Then he turns to his faithful Jehan. 'You were just in -time,' he says simply. -</p> - -<p> -Jehan has been glancing down with mingled rage and -contempt on the man whom in his loyal heart he hated -in life with a wellnigh ferocious intensity. Now he looks -at his master—his friend whom he loves—sees him on one -knee by the side of that abominable murderer, trying to -struggle back to his feet, but evidently weak and dizzy. -</p> - -<p> -With a cry like an enraged tiger, Jehan casts his still -streaming lance away, is already kneeling beside Gilles, -supporting him in his arms as gently as a mother would -shelter her child. -</p> - -<p> -'H-h-h-hurt?' he stammers laconically. 'That d-d-d-devil -hit you?' -</p> - -<p> -'Only in the thigh,' replies Gilles. 'You diverted his -aim right enough, my dear Jehan! And once more I owe -my life to you. Just help me to get up,' he adds with his -wonted impatience. 'Do not let me miss another second -of the glorious spectacle of our victory!' -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -III -</h4> - -<p> -Out in the western sky, a vivid band of blue and gold -breaks the bosom of the clouds. The afternoon sun illumines -with its glowing rays the final rout of the Spanish army. -Le Carpentier's laconic words tell us more than any lengthy -chronicle could do. -</p> - -<p> -'The Duke of Parma,' he says curtly, 'abandoned his -forts and retired in haste to Valenciennes.' -</p> - -<p> -So much that was mighty and great and invincible has -succumbed before the power which comes from a sense -of justice, from valour and enthusiasm and the decrees of -God. God has decided that Cambray has suffered enough; -He has broken the might of Parma and set an end to the -miseries of an heroic people. And when, like a tidal wave -of steel, the Spanish troops begin to oscillate toward the -north, where lies Valenciennes and safety, up on the -ramparts of Cambray hundreds of men and women and children -fall on their knees, and thank God with fervour for their -freedom and for victory. -</p> - -<p> -They are too weak to shout, too weak even to raise their -arms. The pikemen lean upon their arms, the musketeers -upon their muskets, the gunners lie half-exhausted upon -their culverines. Of the twenty-five thousand citizens -of Cambray, scarce fifteen thousand have remained to bid -the returning hero welcome. -</p> - -<p> -Up in the fort of Cantimpré, the city guard—what is left -of it—wait for the entry of the victorious army. The -bridge is lowered, the men stand as if on parade. The city -fathers are there too, and amongst them stands Monseigneur -the governor. -</p> - -<p> -Gaunt and careworn they all look. Their ranks too have -been rudely thinned. Monseigneur's hair is now -snow-white; the hand with which he leans upon a stick is -emaciated almost to the bone. His other arm rests on that of -Jacqueline de Broyart, whose pale, wan face hath a curious -air of mystery and of detachment. -</p> - -<p> -'Here they come!' Monseigneur says at last, as on the -horizon far away a glowing speck begins to move, to gather -shape as it draws nearer, catching, reflecting and throwing -back the roseate flashes of the setting sun. -</p> - -<p> -The whole city now is watching; her very soul is in the -eyes of her expectant children. A curious, nervous thrill -has taken the place of bodily exhaustion. Only Jacqueline -stands quite silent and impassive. Boundless gratitude -fills her heart for the deliverance of the city; but the -overwhelming joy which she feels is drowned in the immensity -of her sorrow. For her, in truth, life is gone, happiness -lies buried beneath the city walls. She can rejoice at the -coming of the man whom the people believe to be their -hero, but for her he is the stranger. The real defender -of Cambray—her brave and spotless knight—gave his -precious life for her city all these weary months ago. -</p> - -<p> -People crowd more insistently round her. The speck -on the horizon has become a moving multitude. Steel and -gold flash in the evening light, banners wave in the gentle, -summer breeze. The French army, glorious after victory, -wends its way to the city which it has saved. -</p> - -<p> -In the forefront march the halberdiers, with their blue -hose and huge, unwieldy trunks, small bonnets on their -heads and a cloak about their shoulders. Then the pikemen, -in striped doublets, their enormous hats slung behind -their backs, and the musketeers with tall boots which reach -half-way up their thighs. Immediately behind them comes -a long train of carts and waggons—the provisions collected -together for the starving city. The Master of the Camp -is in charge of these. He is mounted on a black charger, -surrounded by his staff. The ends of his blue silk scarf -are smothered in dust, as are his boots and his plumed -hat. Some way behind the waggons, the archers come, -marching three abreast, and then the foot-soldiers, with -huge steel gauntlets covering their hands, their heavy -lances borne upon their shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -Nearer and nearer the procession comes, and as it approaches, -a strange exultation born of weakness and of fever, -rises in the hearts of the watchers. It seems as if an -unendurable weight were lifted from their shoulders, as if -they themselves had in a mysterious manner been dead -for weeks and months, and now had risen again in order -to gaze into the setting sun, from whence their liberator -had come to them again. -</p> - -<p> -The streets are no longer deserted now. Furtive forms, -gaunt and haggard, stand under doorways or congregate -upon the open places. Women in ragged kirtles with -children clinging to their skirts, sick and maimed and halt -from disease and want, crawl out of the squalid houses to -watch the entry of the French troops. Many, at sight of -those brave men all covered with smoke and powder and -dust, fall down on their knees and a long-forgotten prayer -rises to their lips. -</p> - -<p> -Anon down the Bapaume road it is quite easy to perceive -the white banner sown with the gold Fleur de Lys. It is -borne by a herald who sits upon a cream charger, and -immediately behind him a man rides alone. He is hatless; -but he holds his head erect and looks straight out towards -the city. He has the reins of his horse in one hand, the -other is hidden under his cloak. Some little way behind -him ride a number of cavaliers in brilliant multi-coloured -doublets and hose, with drawn swords in their hands, -which flash and gleam in the setting sun. They are still -close on half a league away, but adown the long, flat road -Monseigneur's keen eyes have already perceived them. -</p> - -<p> -'It is His Highness the Duc d'Anjou!' he exclaims. -</p> - -<p> -But, with a strange instinct which has for ever remained -inexplicable, Messire de Balagny retorts: -</p> - -<p> -'It is the saviour of Cambray!' -</p> - -<p> -And while he goes at once to transmit the governor's -orders that all the church bells in the city shall at once -begin to ring, Jacqueline de Broyart's gaze is fixed upon -the road which lies like a winding ribbon down below, -stretching as far as the glowing horizon far away. The -sky is suffused with a joy-blush of crimson and orange -and gold, the sinking sun illumines with a roseate hue -that distant group of cavaliers, in the forefront of whom -rides the defender of Cambray. -</p> - -<p> -After the turmoil of battle, an immense silence reigns -over the bosom of the plain. Even the tramp of thousands -of men, the clatter of horses' hoofs and of arms, seem like -an integral part of that great and solemn silence, which has -its birth in the stricken city. The victorious army has -entered Cambray, not with music and with cheering, not -with shouts of joy. Joy is in every heart, but an abundance -of sorrow has stilled its outward expression. The plain -itself is strewn with dead and wounded; hundreds of -valiant lives have been freely given for the deliverance of -Cambray. Those that remain—some five thousand of -them—cross the bridge at the foot of Cantimpré, marching -three abreast. It takes an hour for the first portion of the -victorious army to enter the city. The service men bring -provision waggons in plenty, together with news that -more will follow as quickly as may be. By nightfall there -would not be one hungry mouth left in Cambray. -</p> - -<p> -Relief, content, the shadow of happiness, are too poignant -to find expression in words—perhaps they have come -just a little too late. But gratitude is immense. Soon the -streets of Cambray are encumbered with train and equipment, -with carts and waggons and barrows, horses loosely -tethered, litters of straw for the wounded and the ailing. -The distribution of the food is the most pressing need. -Everywhere men in faded, ragged clothing, with gaunt -faces and hollow eyes, hurry to the Grand' Place and to -the Marche aux Bois, where the food waggons are set up -under the eye of the Master of the Camp. -</p> - -<p> -A pathetic procession of eager, half-starved shadows—women -and children too—with the humble, deprecating -air of the desperately indigent, crowd around the waggons. -Fifteen thousand mouths gaping for food. There is only -a very little for everybody at first. More will come -to-night. More again to-morrow. France, who has saved, -will also provide. Of order there is none. People push -and scamper as the hungry are wont to do, but all are too -feeble to do one another much harm. The soldiers, flushed -with victory, are patient and good-natured. My God! the -very aspect of the streets is enough to make any staunch -heart quake with horror! Some of the men have wife -and family in far-off Artois or Provence. They can hardly -restrain their tears as wee, grimy hands, thin to the bone, -are stretched out to them in pitiable eagerness. They -are as lavish as they can be, giving up their own supper -to feed these unfortunates: generous now as they were -brave out there, when they fought under the eye of the -staunchest man they had ever seen in battle. -</p> - -<p> -''Tis a fine candle you folk of Cambray owe to Monseigneur -de Froidmont!' the Master of the Camp says to a group -of burghers who, self-restrained and stoical, are giving help -in the distribution, waiting till all the poor and the ignorant -are fed before they themselves receive their share. -</p> - -<p> -'Monseigneur de Froidmont?' one of them exclaims. -'Why, who is he?' -</p> - -<p> -'Who is he?' retorts the Master of the Camp. 'Nay, -by the Mass! He is above all the most doughty knight -who hath ever wielded a sword. He it is who has saved -your city for you, my friends. If the Spanish soldiery is -not inside your walls this night, 'tis to him that ye owe -it, remember!' -</p> - -<p> -Most of the burghers look gravely puzzled. Their -spokesman ventures on the remark: -</p> - -<p> -'To His Highness the Duc d'Anjou, surely!' -</p> - -<p> -The Master of the Camp shrugs his shoulders. -</p> - -<p> -'That is as it may be,' he says dryly. 'But you might -all have rotted inside your walls but for the valour of -Monseigneur de Froidmont.' -</p> - -<p> -'But the Duc d'Anjou...' hazards some one timidly. -</p> - -<p> -'A murrain on the Duc d'Anjou!' breaks in the Master -of the Camp good-humouredly. ''Tis of the defender of -your city you should think at this hour. Ah!' he exclaims, -with a sigh of satisfaction, ''tis good to hear that your -city fathers at the least are giving him a rousing welcome!' -</p> - -<p> -He himself sets up a cheer, which is taken up by his -soldiers; for just then the bells of Notre Dame have begun -their joyous peal. Soon Ste. Croix follows suit and -St. Géry from the heights toward the north. Peal after -peal resounds, till the whole air vibrates with that most -inspiriting sound, chasing away with its melody the very -shadow of silence and desolation. -</p> - -<p> -The last rays of the sun have now sunk in the west. -Twilight is slowly fading into dusk. Out beyond Cantimpré, -the herald upon his charger has halted at the foot of -the bridge, the white banner of France, gay with its golden -Fleur de Lys, is gently stirred by the evening breeze. The -group of cavaliers has halted too, while the defender of -Cambray rides slowly into the city. -</p> - -<p><br /></p> - -<h4> -IV -</h4> - -<p> -Monseigneur the governor awaited the victor in the courtyard -of the citadel. He stood in the midst of his Sheriffs -and his Provosts and the other dignitaries of the city, -all of them still dignified and imposing, despite the faded -appearance of their clothes and the gaunt, hungry look in -their wan faces. All around the courtyard was lined with -troops, the mere remnants of the garrison who had fought -so valorously on that never-to-be-forgotten day in April, -a little over four months ago, and of the small body of -French troops who had come to their assistance then. -</p> - -<p> -Gilles dismounted at the bridge-head, disdaining, despite -his wounds, the aid of his faithful henchman's arm. Only -limping very slightly, the bandage on his hand hidden in -the folds of his cloak, he passed in on foot and alone under -the gateway. For the space of one heart-beat he paused -just inside the courtyard, when he saw before him this -large concourse of people who, at his appearance, had -slowly dropped on their knees. They were for the most -part faces which had been familiar to him all those months -ago—faces which even now wore an expression of deference -and of awed respect. -</p> - -<p> -A bitter sigh rose to Gilles' lips. For him, despite the -grandeur of his victory, this was a bitter hour. Within -the next few moments these proud and brave people would -have to be told that a prince of the House of France had -proved himself to be both fickle and base. Messire de -Balagny was not there; and at first he did not see -Jacqueline. She had retired into the guard-room at the desire -of her guardians. 'It were seemly,' they had said, 'that we, -your protectors, should first receive His Highness and pay -him our respects. Then he will ask for his future bride, -and ours shall be the honour of bringing you to him!' -</p> - -<p> -So she was not there for the moment, and Gilles felt -freer in her absence—even caught himself hoping that he -would not be put to the torture of seeing her again. It -were best for him and best for her that she should not hear -that awful confession from his lips, that a Valois prince -had broken his word to her, and in his wanton infamy had -repudiated the perfect gift of God which had been offered -to him. -</p> - -<p> -'Do not tarry one moment, Messire,' Marguerite de -Navarre had entreated of him at the last. 'Take advantage -of the moment of boundless relief and gratitude when your -victorious troops enter Cambray to release <i>Monsieur</i> of his -promise to wed the Flemish heiress. Do not enter the city -till you have made it clear to the Flemish lords that the -Duc d'Anjou will accept the Sovereignty of the Netherlands, -and in exchange will give the support of France, of -her wealth and of her armies; but that he will not enter -into personal alliance with one of his future subjects.' -</p> - -<p> -So now, when at Gilles' approach the governor and the -city fathers all bent the knee before him, he said at once, -directly and simply: -</p> - -<p> -'I entreat you, Messeigneurs, not to kneel to me. That -honour belongs by right only to the puissant Prince whom I -represent.' -</p> - -<p> -'Your Highness——' began d'Inchy humbly. -</p> - -<p> -'I am no Highness, Monseigneur,' he rejoined firmly. -'Only the servant of the Duc d'Anjou, who will be here -as soon as may be, to claim from you that gratitude which -you owe to him and not to me.' -</p> - -<p> -D'Inchy and the others did not move. Their limbs were -paralysed, their lips dumb. Their ears refused to convey -to their over-tired brains that which they had just heard. -It all seemed like a dream; the gathering dusk made everything -appear unreal—the ringing of the joy-bells, the far-away -crowd of soldiers and cavaliers, who filled the very -air with clatter and jingle of spurs and accoutrements, -with creaking of waggons, snorting of horses and snatches -of songs and laughter. And in the centre of the courtyard, -this tall figure of a man, with the tattered doublet and the -bleeding hand, and the voice which seemed as if it rose -straight out of a glorious grave. -</p> - -<p> -'Do not look so puzzled, Messeigneurs,' Gilles went on -with a smile, half-sad, wholly good-humoured. 'The Duc -d'Anjou will not tarry, my word on it. He bids me say -that he accepts the Sovereignty of the Netherlands, and -will place at the disposal of her people the might and the -armies of France, his own power, wealth and influence.' -</p> - -<p> -Still as in a dream, d'Inchy and the Sheriffs and the -Provosts staggered to their feet. The mystery, in truth, -was greater than their enfeebled minds could grasp. They -were for the most part chiefly conscious of a great feeling -of disappointment. -</p> - -<p> -Here stood before them, tall and magnificent even beneath -rags and grime, the man whom they revered above all -others, the hero whose personality was enshrined in the -very hearts of the people of Cambray. What the mystery -was which clung round him they did not know, nor did -they care: he was the man of their choice, the saviour of -Cambray now, as he had been their defender in the hour -of their gravest peril. The victor of this glorious day was -the hero of the ramparts on that memorable April day, the -man who four months ago had defended them with heart -and will and undaunted courage then, and to whom they -owed their freedom, the honour of their wives and daughters -and the future of their race. -</p> - -<p> -To think of him as other than the Duc d'Anjou, their -chosen Sovereign Lord, the husband of Jacqueline de -Broyart, was positive pain. Most of them even now refused -to believe, stared at Gilles as if he were a wraith set to -mock them in their weakness and their dependence. -</p> - -<p> -'Not the Duc d'Anjou?' the Chief Magistrate murmured. -'Impossible!' -</p> - -<p> -Gilles could not help but smile at the farcical aspect of -his own tragedy. -</p> - -<p> -'It is not only possible, Messeigneurs,' he said, 'but -is e'en a positive fact. Messire de Balagny would soon -tell you so: and His Highness the Duc d'Anjou himself -will be here on the morrow to prove to you that I am but -an humble substitute, a representative of His Graciousness.' -</p> - -<p> -'But,' stammered d'Inchy, still in a state of complete -bewilderment, 'that day in April ... your—you, -Monseigneur ... in the Town Hall ... Madame Jacqueline...' -</p> - -<p> -With a quick gesture, Gilles put up his hand. -</p> - -<p> -'I entreat you, Monseigneur,' he said earnestly, 'to -wait awhile ere you probe further into His Highness' secrets. -For the moment, will you not be content to rejoice with -me at your deliverance? His Highness accepts from you -the Sovereignty of the Netherlands. To-morrow he will -be here, ready to receive the acclamations and the welcome -of his people. He hath proved himself not only ready, -but able, to defend you against all your enemies. He -hath this day gained a signal victory over the powerful -armies of the King of Spain. Henceforth the whole might -of France will stand between you and the relentless foe -who threatens your lives and your liberties. Join me, -Messeigneurs,' he concluded earnestly, 'in acclaiming His -Highness the Duc d'Anjou et d'Alençon, prince of the -House of France, as your Sovereign Lord!' -</p> - -<p> -His inspiring words were received in silence. Not one -voice was raised in response to his loyal call. Gilles frowned, -feeling that the supreme hour had come. A moment or -two longer, and the inevitable question would be put -'And what of Madame Jacqueline, Monseigneur? What -of the lady whom His Highness has sworn to wed?' -</p> - -<p> -Already he had steeled himself to give answer, though -the answer could only proclaim dishonour, both for himself -and for the Valois prince whom he was trying so faithfully -to serve unto the end. He saw the frown of puzzlement -which gathered on d'Inchy's brow. The governor, in truth, -was the first to recover his presence of mind. Leaning upon -his stick, with back bent, but his whole attitude one of -supreme dignity, he came nearer to Gilles and fixed a stern -gaze upon his face. -</p> - -<p> -'If you are not the Duc d'Anjou, Monseigneur,' he said -slowly, 'will you tell us who it was who defended Cambray -with such indomitable valour four months ago? Will -you tell us who it is that saved Cambray to-day? For, -of a truth, my friends and I are bewildered, and the mystery -before us is one which we cannot fathom. Therefore I -dare ask you once again in all respect—I may say in all -affection: if you are not the Duc d'Anjou, who is it that -stands before me now?' -</p> - -<p> -'The saviour of Cambray!' came in a clear, ringing -voice from the further end of the courtyard. 'My promised -Lord and King!' -</p> - -<p> -The sound of Jacqueline's voice sent a spark of living -flame through those minds, atrophied by all this mystery. -All eyes were at once turned to where she stood, dimly -outlined in the gathering gloom. She was clad in a sombre -gown and wore a dark veil over her fair hair. Her young, -girlish figure, free from the hideous trammels of hoops or -farthingale, appeared ethereal against the background of -grim, frowning walls. Only the last lingering grey light -in the west brought into bold relief her pale face and -graceful shoulders, smooth like ivory. Just for a minute or two -she stood quite still, like an exquisitely graven image, -rigidly still yet pulsating with life. Then she advanced -slowly towards Gilles. Her eyes held his and he scarcely -dared to breathe, for fear that perfect vision should vanish -into the skies, whence, of a truth, it must have descended. -He could not have uttered a word then, if his very existence -had depended on it. It seemed to him as if his very heart -had stopped in its beating, as if life and time and the whole -universe was stilled while Jacqueline's blue eyes sought his -own, and she came, with hands extended as if in entreaty, -to him. -</p> - -<p> -Was it a minute or a cycle of years! He himself could -not tell you. He saw nothing of what went on around; -the city walls had fallen away, the men in their sombre -clothes become mere shadows, the very sky overhead had -receded into the realm of nothingness. -</p> - -<p> -And through that state of semi-consciousness, her exquisite -voice came to him as from another world. -</p> - -<p> -'Nay! my dear Lord,' she said, with her enchanting -smile, 'you'll not refuse me the joy of paying something -of my country's eternal debt of gratitude to you.' -</p> - -<p> -He still stood half-dazed and silent. Then suddenly he -took her hands and slowly bent the knee, and buried his -battle-stained face in her sweet-scented palms. -</p> - -<p> -It had all occurred within half a dozen seconds. The -governor, the Chief Magistrate, the city fathers, gazed on -uncomprehending, silent and puzzled at what they saw. -After awhile, d'Inchy murmured vaguely: -</p> - -<p> -'Madame Jacqueline ... we ... that is...' -</p> - -<p> -But quickly now she turned and faced them all, while -Gilles still knelt and rested his hot forehead against her -cool white hand. Through the gloom they could just discern -her face, white and serene and withal defiant and firm, -and irradiated with an enormous happiness. -</p> - -<p> -'Messeigneurs,' she said with solemn earnestness, 'you -heard, two sennights ago, the profession of faith which I -made publicly before the assembled people of Cambray. -There I swore by the living God Who made me that I would -cherish and serve, loyally and faithfully, even until death, -the noble and valorous hero who defended our city in the -hour of her gravest peril. That dauntless hero is before -you now. Once again he has saved our city from destruction, -our sisters from dishonour, our men from shame. To -him did I plight my troth, to him alone will I be true!' -</p> - -<p> -Then, as all the men around her remained silent, moved -to the depth of their hearts by the sublime note of passion -which rang through her avowal, she continued, and this -time with a note of unswerving defiance and magnificent -challenge in her voice: -</p> - -<p> -'Ask the people of Cambray, Messeigneurs! Let them -be the arbiters of my fate and their own. Ask them to -whom they would have me turn now—to the mighty Prince -who would only use me and them and our valiant race as -stepping stones to his own ambition, or to the hero who -has offered his life for us all.' -</p> - -<p> -A low murmur went round the assembly. Grave heads -were shaken, toil-worn hands were raised to wipe a furtive -tear. The evening gloom descended upon this strange -scene, upon the reverend seigneurs and the stolid soldiers, -upon the man who was kneeling and the woman—a mere -girl—who stood there, commanding and defiant, secure in -her love, proud of her surrender, ready to fight for her -happiness. -</p> - -<p> -'Ask the people of Cambray, Messeigneurs,' she reiterated -boldly, 'if you have a doubt!' -</p> - -<p> -She let her eyes wander slowly over the crowd. One -by one, she looked these grave seigneurs in the face, these -men who arrogated the right to rule over her destiny. -They were her friends, had been her daily companions in -the past four months of horror and of misery. They had -trembled with her over Cambray's danger, had wept with -her over Cambray's woes. With her they had acclaimed -the hero who had defended them, had wept when they saw -him fall; and to-day, again to-day, had been ready to -deify him as their hero and her knight. -</p> - -<p> -'Messeigneurs,' she pleaded, 'ask the people of Cambray.' -</p> - -<p> -She knew what would be the people's answer. Now that -the hour of their liberty had struck, now that the Spaniard -no longer thundered at their gates, they were ready to -carry their Liberator shoulder-high and give him the universe -in their gratitude, if they had it to give. What cared -they if their Liberator was a Duc d'Anjou or a nameless -knight? He was the man whom they worshipped, the -man who had made them free. -</p> - -<p> -And now, when she still saw doubt, hesitation, embarrassment, -upon the face of all these grave dignitaries, she frowned -with wounded pride and with impatience. -</p> - -<p> -'Messeigneurs,' she said boldly, 'Heaven forgive me, -but ye seem to hesitate! The man to whom you owe your -life, your future, the honour of your name, asks nothing -more of your gratitude. But I, who am privileged to read -in his heart, know that it is in my power to repay him in -full for all that he hath done. And yet you hesitate! I -am content to make appeal to the people of Cambray. But -I know too what goes on in your minds. Ye think that ye -are pledged to <i>Monsieur</i> Duc d'Anjou! that Jacqueline -de Broyart, if she refuse to wed him, would sully your honour -and, what were infinitely worse, would besmirch the fair -fame of Flanders. Isn't that so, Messeigneurs?' -</p> - -<p> -Their silence had become eloquent. -</p> - -<p> -'The honour of Flanders——' Monseigneur began, then -paused. A premonition of something which he could not -put into words caused him to remain silent too, and to -let the girl plead her cause without any interruption from -him. -</p> - -<p> -'The honour of Flanders, as you say, Monseigneur,' -Jacqueline went on firmly, 'demands above all things that -you and I and the guardians of our city do keep our word. -Therefore, even before we make appeal to the people of -Cambray, we will ask Monseigneur de Froidmont, who is -here on behalf of His Highness, the Duc d'Anjou, to renew -in His Highness' name the demand of my hand in marriage. -On his answer should depend our future conduct. Is that -not so, Messeigneurs?' she asked once again, and let her -calm gaze wander from one solemn face to the other, search -serenely every troubled eye. -</p> - -<p> -D'Inchy this time realized that he must be the spokesman -for all these representatives, his city and of his -province. Vaguely troubled still by the mystery which -surrounded the man to whom Cambray owed her deliverance, -he thought once for all, by a straight question, to put an -end to the many doubts and fears which assailed him and -his friends. Jacqueline already had turned once more to -Gilles; with a slight pressure of her hand she asked him to -rise. This he did, feeling strangely elated, just as if Destiny, -tired of buffeting him, was smiling encouragingly to him -from afar. In the midst of the many confused impressions -which had struck his wearied mind during the past quarter -of an hour, one thought stood out with heavenly clearness: -Jacqueline loved him! Her love had neither faltered nor -tired through these weary months. She was as steadfast -and true to him at this hour as she had been when in the -clematis-covered arbour she had lain against his breast. -Now her woman's quick wit had divined the truth and come -to the aid of her love. Even when she challenged those -grave seigneurs to ask him the straight and momentous -question, she knew what his answer would be. -</p> - -<p> -The task which lay before him no longer seemed irksome -and humiliating. He still blushed for the shame which -rested on the fickle Prince whom he served, but already in -his heart he had registered the vow that, God helping as -He had done hitherto, the honour of France should shine -forth before these heroic people, in all its brightness and -glory, through the glorious deeds of her sons. -</p> - -<p> -'Monseigneur,' began d'Inchy tentatively, 'you have -heard what Madame Jacqueline de Broyart hath said. We -have all passed through much sorrow, have witnessed the -miseries and the patience of our people. The hour of victory -has come, but found us weak in body and tortured in mind. -We place our faith with complete confidence in the honour -and integrity of France. We are prepared to receive His -Highness, the Duc d'Anjou with open hearts and to acclaim -him as our Sovereign Lord. Will he in exchange keep faith -with us, and wed our ward, Madame Jacqueline de Broyart, -to whom he hath akeady plighted his troth?' -</p> - -<p> -Even while the governor spoke, the city dignitaries all -tried to read the expression on Gilles' face through the -fast-gathering gloom, and anxious eyes scanned those war-worn -features which they had learned to love. Even through -the darkness they could see him, standing there in his rags -and his battered breastplate, hatless and begrimed, splendid -in his valour and his pride, and with Jacqueline's hand held -tightly in his own—splendid still, now that he stood silent -and shamed before them all. -</p> - -<p> -To Monseigneur's peremptory question he had given no -reply, remained almost motionless, while Jacqueline, proud -in the face of the crying insult which a faithless Prince had -put upon her, threw back her head and gave a deep sigh -of content. -</p> - -<p> -Monseigneur the governor had received his answer in -Gilles de Crohin's obstinate silence. A bitter cry of -unbridled anger rose to his lips, his emaciated hand trembled -visibly upon the stick which he held. -</p> - -<p> -Then, just as suddenly, his wrath gave way. It almost -seemed as if an angel of reconciliation and of love had -whispered into his ear, and had, with cool and gentle fingers, -smoothed away the angry frown upon his brow. All that -was fine and noble in the heroic race from which he sprang -clamoured for the only possible solution of the present -difficulty, a solution which would ensure the happiness of -a brave and proud woman, and the dignity of the country -which he represented. -</p> - -<p> -One last second of hesitation, one final regretful sigh -for the ambitious personal schemes which he saw crumbling -into ashes at his feet, then Monseigneur d'Inchy, governor -of Cambray, sank slowly down on his knees. -</p> - -<p> -'Monseigneur,' he said slowly and impressively, 'Madame -Jacqueline de Broyart has spoken and shown us the path -of our duty. To-morrow we will acclaim His Highness the -Duc d'Anjou et d'Alençon as our Sovereign Lord; but -to-day we welcome you as the saviour of our city. -Whatever your wishes are, they are a law unto us. You have -heard what Madame Jacqueline has said. Will you -in your turn plight your troth to her? Will you love and -cherish her and serve her faithfully and loyally as her liege -lord, until death?' -</p> - -<p> -'And beyond!' Gilles murmured softly. -</p> - -<p> -The last streak of grey light was still lingering in the -sky. Everything in the enclosure of the tall, grim walls -became mysterious and shadowy; darkness drew her -kindly mantle over the scene. She hid from prying eyes -what went on under the immediate shadow of the great -gate, where for one brief moment Jacqueline lay against -her loved one's heart. -</p> - -<p> -From the towers of the city's churches the bells were -still sending their happy carillon through the evening air. -A group of pikemen brought torches into the courtyard. -A wild shout of delight—the first which Cambray had heard, -for many months—sent its joyous sound through the evening -air. -</p> - -<p> -And in the homes which all these months of misery had -devastated, the sick and the weary roused themselves for -a moment, marvelling what these shouts of joy might mean. -And those who had suffered for so long and who were now -comforted, those who had been hungry and were now fed, -ran into the houses of sickness and of sorrow, in order to -bring the gladsome, the great, the wonderful news. -</p> - -<p> -'The Duc d'Anjou, brother of the King of France, is to -be Sovereign Lord of the Netherlands. He will enter -Cambray to-morrow, with his great army. He will be proclaimed -Protector of the Liberties of Cambray and Sovereign of -the Cambrésis!' -</p> - -<p> -'And he will wed Madame Jacqueline de Broyart, the -great heiress?—our Jacqueline?' -</p> - -<p> -'Oh, no! The Duc d'Anjou will be our Sovereign Lord. -But Madame Jacqueline will wed the saviour of Cambray.' -</p> - -<p><br /><br /></p> - -<p class="t4"> -<i>Printed in Great Britain by</i> Butler & Tanner <i>Frome and London</i> -</p> - -<p><br /><br /><br /><br /></p> - -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FLOWER O' THE LILY ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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