An Enemy to the King Read online

  CHAPTER V.

  HOW LA TOURNOIRE ESCAPED FROM PARIS

  I heard the key turn in the lock, and the Queen of Navarre leave thecabinet. She took the key with her, so that a tiny beam of light camethrough the keyhole, giving my dark hiding-place its only illumination.

  I felt complete confidence both in Marguerite's show of willingness tosave me, and in her ability to do so. All I could do was to wait, andleave my future in her hands.

  After a long time, I heard steps in the cabinet outside the closet door,the beam of light from the keyhole was cut off, the key turned again, thedoor opened, and Marguerite again stood before me.

  "Monsieur," she said, "that we may talk without danger, remain in thecloset. I will leave the door slightly ajar, thus, and will sit here,near it, with my 'Book of Hours,' as if reading aloud to myself. Shouldany one come, I can lock your door again and hide the key. Hark! besilent, monsieur!"

  And as she spoke, she shut the door, locked it, drew out the key, andsat down. I listened to learn what had caused this act of precaution.

  "Madame," I heard some one say, "M. de l'Archant desires, by order of theKing, to search your apartments for a man who is to be arrested, and whois thought to have secreted himself somewhere in the palace."

  "Let him enter." said Marguerite. My heart stood still. Then I heard hersay, in a tone of pleasantry:

  "What, M. le Capitain, is there another St. Bartholomew, that peoplechoose my apartments for refuge?"

  "This time it is not certain that the fugitive is here," replied Captainde l'Archant, of the bodyguard. "He is known to have been in the palacethis morning, and no one answering his description has been seen to leaveby any of the gates. It was, indeed, a most sudden and mysteriousdisappearance; and it is thought that he has run to cover in some chamberor other. We are looking everywhere."

  "Who is the man?" asked Marguerite, in a tone of indifference.

  "M. de la Tournoire, of the French Guards."

  "Very well. Look where you please. If he came into my apartments, he musthave done so while I attended the _petite levee_ of the King; otherwise Ishould have seen him. What are you looking at? The door of that closet?He could not have gone there without my knowledge. One of the maidslocked it the other day, and the key has disappeared." Whereupon, shetried the door, herself, as if in proof of her assertion.

  "Then he cannot be there," said De L'Archant, deceived by her manner; andhe took his leave.

  For some minutes I heard nothing but the monotonous voice of Margueriteas she read aloud to herself from her "Book of Hours."

  Then she opened my door again. Through the tiny crack I saw a partof her head.

  "Monsieur," she said to me, keeping her eyes upon the book, and retainingthe same changeless tone of one reading aloud, "you see that you aresafe, for the present. No one in the palace, save one of my maids, isaware that I know you or have reason to take the slightest interest inyou. Your entrance to my apartments was made so naturally and openly thatit left no impression on those who saw you come in. I have since sentevery one of those persons on some errand, so that all who might happento remember your coming here will suppose that you left during theirabsence. It was well that I brought you here; had I merely told you toleave the palace, immediately, you would not have known exactly howmatters stood, and you would have been arrested at your lodgings, or onyour way to your place of duty. By this time, orders have gone to thecity gates to prevent your leaving Paris. Before noon, not only thebody-guard, the Provost of the palace, and the French and Scotch Guardswill be on the lookout for you, but also the gendarmes of the Provost ofParis. That is why we must be careful, and why stealth must be used inconveying you out of Paris."

  "They make a very important personage of me," I said, in a low tone.

  "Hush! When you speak imitate my tone, exactly, and be silent the instantI cough. Too many people are not to be trusted. That you may understandme, you must know precisely how matters stand. This morning my motherwent to see the King in his chamber before he had risen. They discussed amatter which required my presence, and I was sent for. After we hadfinished our family council, my mother and I remained for a few words, inprivate, with each other. While we were talking, M. de Quelus came in andspoke for a while to the King. I heard the King reply, 'Certainly, as hepreserved you to me, my friend.' De Quelus was about to leave the King'schamber, when the Duke of Guise was announced. De Quelus waited, out ofcuriosity, I suppose. M. de Guise was admitted. He immediately told theKing that one of his gentlemen, M. de Noyard, had been killed by theSieur de la Tournoire, one of the French Guards. I became interested, forI remembered your name as that of the gentleman who, according to mymaid, had stopped the spy from whom I had had so much to fear. Irecalled, also, that you had the esteem of my brother's faithful Bussyd'Amboise. My mother immediately expressed the greatest horror at DeNoyard's death, with the greatest sympathy for M. de Guise; and she urgedthe King to make an example of you."

  I remembered, with a deep sigh, what De Rilly had told me,--thatCatherine, to prevent the Duke of Guise from laying the death of DeNoyard to her, would do her utmost to bring me to punishment.

  "The King looked at De Quelus," continued Marguerite. "That gentleman,seeing how things were, and, knowing that the King now wishes to seemfriendly to the Duke, promptly said, 'This is fortunate. La Tournoire isnow waiting for me in the red gallery; I suppose he wishes to beg myintercession. His presumption will be properly punished when the guardsarrest him there.'"

  I turned sick, at this revelation of treachery. This was the gentlemanwho owed his life to me, and, in the first outburst of gratitude, hadpromised to obtain for me a captaincy!

  "The King," Marguerite went on, "at once ordered two of the Scotch Guardsto arrest you. All this time, I had been standing at the window, lookingout, as if paying no attention. My mother stopped the guards to give themsome additional direction. No one was watching me. I passed carelesslyout, and you know what followed. At the _petite levee_, I learned whatwas thought of your disappearance,--that you had seen the Duke of Guiseenter the King's apartments, had guessed his purpose, and hadprecipitately fled."

  I did not dare tell his sister what I thought of a King who would,without hesitation or question, offer up one of his guards as a sacrificeto appease that King's greatest enemy.

  "And now, monsieur," said Marguerite, still seeming to read from herbook, "the King and the Queen, my mother, will make every effort to haveyou captured, lest it be thought that they are secretly protecting theslayer of M. de Noyard. To convince you that you may rely on me,thoroughly, I will confess that it is not solely gratitude for yourservice the other night that induces me to help you,--although mygratitude was great. I had seen the spy rise out of the moat and allnight I was in deadly fear that he had reached the guard-house andprevented my brother's flight, or, at least, betrayed me. When I becameconvinced that he had not done so, I thanked Heaven for the unknowncause that had hindered him. So you may imagine, when my maid told methat a friend of her lover's was that unknown cause, how I felt towardsthat friend."

  "Madame," I said, with emotion, "I ought to be content to die, having hadthe happiness of eliciting your gratitude!"

  "But I am not content that you should die, for I wish you to serve meonce more, this time as a messenger to my brother, the Duke of Anjou, whois at Angers; to M. Bussy d'Amboise, who is with him; and to my husband,the King of Navarre, who is at Nerac, in Gascony. Thus it is to my owninterest to procure your safe escape from Paris. And if you reach Nerac,monsieur, you cannot do better than to stay there. The King of Navarrewill give you some post more worthy of you than that of a mere soldier,which you hold here."

  "I enlisted in the French Guards," I hastened to explain, "because I wasunknown, and a Huguenot, and could expect no higher beginning."

  "For the very reason that you are a Huguenot, you can expect a great dealfrom the King of Navarre. His kingdom is little more than a toy kingdom,it is true, and his court is but the distant echo of th
e court of France,but believe me, monsieur,"--and here Marguerite's voice indicated aprofound conviction,--"there is a future before my husband, the King ofNavarre! They do not know him. Moreover, Paris will never be a safeplace for you as long as the Duke of Guise lives. He does not forget!"

  I knew that Marguerite had excellent means of knowing the Duke of Guise,and I did not dispute her assertion. Moreover, I was now quite willing togo from the city wherein I was to have achieved such great things. Myself-conceit had been shaken a little.

  "But if every exit is watched, how can I leave Paris?" I asked.

  "The exits were watched to prevent the going of my brother Anjou," saidMarguerite, "but he went. He crossed the Seine with his chamberlain,Simier, and his valet, Cange, and went to the Abbey of St. Genevieve, ofwhich the gardens are bounded by the city wall. The Abbot Foulon wassecretly with us. M. Bussy had returned to Paris, and was waiting at theAbbey for Monsieur. They left Paris by way of the Abbey garden. The Abbotis a cautious soul, and to protect himself, in case of discovery, he hadM. Bussy tie him to a chair, and after Monsieur and Bussy had joinedtheir gentlemen, outside, and galloped off toward Angers, the Abbot cameto the Louvre, and informed the King of Monsieur's escape. Now I supposewe shall have to make use of the same ingenious Foulon."

  "You know what is best, madame," I said.

  "But the Abbot of Saint Genevieve would not do for you, or even for me,what he would do for my brother Anjou. If he knew who you were, he mightgladly seize an opportunity to offset, by giving you up, the suspicionthat he had a hand in my brother's escape."

  "But if there is a suspicion of that, will they not watch the Abbey now,on my account?"

  "No; for you are not of my brother's party, and the Abbot would have noreason for aiding you. The question is how to make him serve us inthis. I must now think and act, monsieur, and I shall have to lock youup again."

  She rose and did so, and again I was left to meditate. It is astonishinghow unconcerned I had come to feel, how reliant on the ingenuity of thischarming princess with the small head, the high, broad forehead, theburning, black eyes the curly blonde hair, the quizzically discreteexpression of face.

  After some hours, during which I learned, again, the value of patience,the door was opened, and Marguerite thrust in some bread and cold meat,which she had brought with her own hand. I took it in silence, andstooped to kiss the hand, but it was too soon withdrawn, and the doorlocked again.

  When the door next opened, Marguerite stood before it with a candle inher hand. I therefore knew that it was night. In her other hand, she heldfour letters, three of them already sealed, the fourth open.

  "I have made all arrangements," she said, quickly. "This letter is to theAbbot Foulon. Read it."

  She handed it to me, and held the candle for me while I read:

  This gentleman bears private letters to Monsieur. As he was about todepart with them, I learned that the King had been informed of hisintended mission, and had given orders for his arrest at the gate. I callupon you to aid him to leave Paris, as you aided my brother Anjou. Hisarrest would result in a disclosure of how that matter was conducted.

  MARGUERITE.

  I smiled, when I had finished reading the letter.

  "That letter will frighten Brother Foulon into immediate action," saidMarguerite, "and he will be compelled to destroy it, as it incriminateshim. Take these others. You will first go to Angers, and deliver this tothe Duke of Anjou, this to M. de Bussy. Then proceed to Gascony withthis, for the King of Navarre."

  "And I am to start?"

  "To-night. I shall let you down into the moat, as Monsieur was let down.You cannot cross the bridges of the Seine, lest you be stopped by guardsat the entrances; therefore I have employed, in this matter, the same boywho served me the other night. Go immediately from the moat to that partof the quay which lies east of the Hotel de Bourbon. You will find himwaiting there in a boat. He will take you across the river to the Quay ofthe Augustines, and from there you will go alone to the Abbey. WhenFoulon knows that you come in my name, he will at once admit you. I amsorry that there is not time to have a horse waiting for you outside thefortifications."

  "Alas, I must leave my own horse in Paris! I must go forth as a deserterfrom the Guards!"

  "It is better than going to the executioner," said Marguerite, gaily."For the last time, monsieur, become a bird in a cage. I am about toretire. As soon as all my people are dismissed, and the palace is asleep,I shall come for you."

  The door closed again upon my prison of a day. I placed the letterswithin my doublet, and looked to the fastening of my clothes, as a manwho prepares for a race or contest. I straightened myself up in my placeof concealment, and stood ready to attempt my flight from this Paris ofwhich the King had made a cage to hold me.

  More waiting, and then came Marguerite, this time without a candle. Shestood in the darkness, in a white _robe de nuit_, like a ghost.

  "Now, monsieur," she whispered.

  I stepped forth without a word, and followed her through the cabinet intoa chamber which also dark. Three of Marguerite's maids stood there, insilence, one near the door, the other two at the window. One of thelatter held a stout stick, to the middle of which was fastened a rope,which dangled down to the floor and lay there in irregular coils. I sawthis by the little light that came through the window from the cloudednight sky.

  Marguerite took the stick and held it across the window. It was longerthan the width of the window, and hence its ends overlapped the chamberwalls on either side.

  "Are you ready, monsieur?" asked Marguerite, in a whisper.

  "Ready, madame."

  Still holding the stick in position with one hand, she opened the windowwith the other, and looked out. She then drew in her head, and passed theloose end of the rope out of the window. Then she looked at me, and stooda little at one side, that I might have room to pass.

  Summoning a bold heart, I mounted the window-ledge, got on my knees withmy face towards the chamber, caught the rope in both hands, lowered myhead, and kissed one of the hands of the Queen of Navarre; then, restingmy weight on my elbows, dropped my legs out of the window. Two moremovements took my body after them, and presently I saw before me only thewall of the Louvre, and was descending the rope, hand after hand, theweight of my body keeping the stick above in position.

  When I was half-way down, I looked up. The wall of the palace seemed nowto lean over upon me, and now to draw back from me. Marguerite was gazingdown at me.

  At last, looking down, I saw the earth near, and dropped. I cast anotherglance upward. Marguerite was just drawing in her head, and immediatelythe rope's end flew out of my reach.

  "There's no going back the way I came!" I said, to myself, and strodealong the moat to find a place where I could most easily climb out of it.Such a place I found, and I was soon in the street, alone, near where Ihad been wont to watch under the window of Mlle. d'Arency. I took a lastlook at the window of Marguerite's chamber. It was closed, and the ropehad disappeared. My safety was no longer in the hands of the Queen ofNavarre. She had pointed out the way for me, and had brought me thus far;henceforth, I had to rely on myself.

  I shivered in the cold. I had left my large cloak beside the dead body ofM. de Noyard the previous night, and had worn to the Louvre, in themorning, only a light mantle by way of outer covering.

  "Blessings on the night for being so dark, and maledictions on it forbeing so cold!" I muttered, as I turned towards the river.

  I had reached the Hotel de Bourbon, when I heard, behind me, the soundof footsteps in accord. I looked back. It was a body of several armedmen, two of them bearing torches.

  Were they gendarmes of the watch, or were they guards of the King? Whatwere they doing on my track, and had they seen me?

  Probably they had not seen me, for they did not increase their gait,although they came steadily towards me. The torches, which illuminatedeverything near them, served to blind them to what was at a distancefrom them.

  For
tunately, I had reached the end of the street, and so I turnedeastward and proceeded along the quay, high walls on one side of me, theriver on the other. It had been impossible for Marguerite to indicate tome the exact place at which the boat was to be in waiting. I did notthink it best, therefore, to go to the edge of the quay and look for theboat while the soldiers were in the vicinity. They might come upon thequay at the moment of my embarking, and in that event, they wouldcertainly investigate. So I walked on along the quay.

  Presently I knew, by the sound of their steps, that they, too, hadreached the quay, and that they had turned in the direction that I hadtaken. I was still out of the range of their torchlight.

  "How far will I be made to walk by these meddlesome archers?" I askedmyself, annoyed at this interruption, and considering it an incident ofill omen. I looked ahead, to see whither my walking would lead me.

  I saw another body of gendarmes, likewise lighted by torches, justemerging from a street's end, some distance in front of me. They turnedand came towards me.

  I stopped, feeling for an instant as if all my blood, all power ofmotion, had left me. "Great God!" I thought, "I am caught between tworows of teeth."

  I must wait no longer to seek the boat. Would God grant that it might benear, that I might reach it before either troop should see me?

  I ran to the edge of the quay and looked over into the river. Of all theboats that lay at rest there, not one in sight was unmoored, not onecontained a boatman!

  The two bodies of men were approaching each other. In a few seconds thetwo areas of torchlight would merge together. On one side were walls,frowning and impenetrable; on the other was the river.

  I took off my sword and dagger, on account of their weight, and droppedthem with their sheathes into the river. I started to undo the fasteningof my mantle, but the knot held; my fingers became clumsy, and timepressed. So I gave up that attempt, threw away my hat, let myself overthe edge of the quay, and slid quietly into the icy water. I immediatelydived, and presently came to the surface at some distance from theshore. I then swam for the middle of the river. God knows what powerswithin me awoke to my necessity. I endured the cold, and found strengthto swim in spite of the clothes that impeded my movements and addedimmensely to my weight.

  Without looking back, I could tell, presently, from the talking on thequay that the two detachments of gendarmes had met and were standingstill. Had either one descried me, there would have been loud or hurriedwords, but there were none. After a while, during which I continued toswim, the voices ceased, and I looked back. Two torches remained on thequay. The others were moving away, along the river. I then made a guess,which afterward was confirmed as truth. The boy sent by Marguerite hadbeen discovered in his boat, had been taken to the guard-house, and hadgiven such answers as led to the suspicion that he was waiting to aidthe flight of some one. The captain of the Guard, thinking so to catchthe person for whom the boatman waited, had sent two bodies of men out,one to occupy the spot near which the boy had been found, the other topatrol the river bank in search of questionable persons. I had arrivedon the quay in the interval between the boy's capture and the arrivalof the guards.

  My first intention was to reach the left bank and proceed to the Abbey ofSt. Genevieve. But it occurred to me that, although a boat could not passdown the river, out of Paris, at night, because of the chain stretchedacross the river from the Tour du Coin to the Tour de Nesle, yet aswimmer might pass under or over that chain and then make, through thefaubourg outside the walls, for the open country. Neither Marguerite norI had thought of this way of leaving Paris, because of the seemingimpossibility of a man's surviving a swim through the icy Seine, and aflight in wet clothes through the February night. Moreover, there was thenecessity of leaving my sword behind, and the danger of being seen by themen on guard at the towers on either side of the river. But now thatnecessity had driven me into the river, I chose this shorter route tofreedom, and swam with the current of the Seine. In front of me lay adark mass upon the water in the middle of the river. This was the bargemoored there to support the chain which stretched, from either side,across the surface of the water, up the bank and to the Tour de Nesle onthe left side, and to the Tour du Coin on the right. I might pass eitherto the right or to the left of this barge. Naturally, I chose to avoidthe side nearest the bank from which I had just fled, and to take theleft side, which lay in the shadow of the frowning Tour de Nesle.

  By swimming close to the left bank of the river, I might pass theboundary without diving under the chain, for the chain ascended obliquelyfrom the water to the tower, leaving a small part of the river's surfaceentirely free. But this part was at the very foot of the tower, and if Itried passage there I should probably attract the attention of the guard.I was just looking ahead, to choose a spot midway between the barge andthe left bank, when suddenly the blackness went from the face of things,a pale yellow light took its place, and I knew that the moon had comefrom behind the clouds. A moment later, I heard a cry from the right bankof the river, and knew that I was discovered. The shout came from thesoldiers whom I had so narrowly eluded.

  I knew that it was a race for life now. The soldiers would know that anyman swimming the Seine on a February night was a man whom they ought tostop. I did not look back,--the one thing to do was to pass the Tour deNesle before the guards there should be put on the alert by the criesfrom the right bank. So on I swam, urging every muscle to its utmost.

  Presently came the crack of an arquebus, and spattering sounds behind metold me where the shot had struck the water. I turned to swim upon myleft side, and so I got a glimpse of the quay that I had left. By thehurried movement of torches, I saw that the body that had gone to patrolthe river bank was returning to rejoin the other force. Of the latter,several men were unmooring and manning a large boat. I turned on my backto have a look at the sky. I saw that very soon a heavy mass of blackcloud would obscure the moon. At once I turned, and made towards the leftbank, as if not intending to pass the chain. I could hear the men in theboat speaking rapidly at this, as if commenting on my change of course.Again looking back, I saw that the boat had pushed off, and was makingtowards that point on the left bank for which I seemed to be aiming. Andnow I had something else to claim my attention: the sound of voices camefrom the Tour de Nesle. I cast a glance thither. A troop of the watch wasout at last, having taken the alarm from the movements on the right bank.This troop from the Tour de Nesle was moving towards the place for whichI seemed to be making; hence it was giving its attention solely to thatpart of the left bank which was inside the fortifications. I felt athrill of exultation. The moon passed under the clouds. I changed mycourse, and struck out for the chain. The light of the torches did notreach me. Both the boat from the right bank and the watch from the Tourde Nesle continued to move towards the same point. I approached thechain, took a long breath, dived, felt the stifling embrace of the watersfor a season, rose to the surface, breathed the air of heaven again, andcast a look behind. The chain stretched between me and the distant boatand torches. I was out of Paris.

  I swam on, past the mouth of the Paris moat, and then made for the leftbank. Exhaustion seized me as I laid hold of the earth, but I hadstrength to clamber up. I fell into a sitting posture and rested my tiredarms and legs. What pains of cold and heat I felt I cannot describe.Presently, with returning breath, came the strength to walk,--a strengthof which I would have to avail myself, not only that I might put distancebetween myself and Paris, but also to keep my wet clothes from freezing.I rose and started.

  Choosing not to follow the left bank of the Seine, which was unknownterritory to me, I turned southeastward, in the hope of finding the roadby which I had entered Paris. To reach this, I had but to traverse theFaubourg St. Germaine, along the line of the wall of Paris. I had alreadygone some distance along the outer edge of the moat, with the sleepingfaubourg on my right, when I heard, behind me, the sound of men treadinga bridge. I looked back. The bridge was that which crossed the moat fromthe Tour de Nesl
e.

  Had the guards at last discovered my way of eluding pursuit, and was Inow being sought outside the walls? It appeared so, for, after crossingthe moat, the troop divided into two bodies, one of which went toward theleft bank below the chain, where I had landed, while the other came alongthe moat after me. I began to run. The moon came out again.

  "Look! he is there!" cried one of my pursuers. I heard their footsteps onthe frozen earth,--they, too, were running. But I had the advantage inone respect: I had no weapons to impede me. The coming out of the moondid not throw me into despair; it only increased my determination to makegood the escape I had carried so far. Though nature, herself, became theally of the King of France and the Duke of Guise against me, I wouldelude them. I was filled with hate and resolution.

  Suddenly, as I ran, it occurred to me that I was a fool to keep so nearthe fortifications, for, at any of the gates, guards might emerge,alarmed by the shouts of my pursuers; and even as I thought this, Ilooked ahead and saw a number of halberdiers coming from the Porte St.Germaine. My situation was now as it had been on the quay, with thisdisadvantage, that I was seen by my enemies, and this advantage, that Ihad a way of retreat open on my right; and I turned and sped along astreet of the Faubourg St. Germaine, towards the country.

  It matters not how many pursue you, if you can run faster and longerthan the best of them all. Gradually, as I went, panting and plunging,onward, heedless of every obstacle, I increased the distance between meand the cries behind. Soon I was out of the faubourg, but I did not stop.I do not know what ground I went over, save that I went southward, orwhat village I presently went through, save that it was silent andasleep. I came upon a good road, at last, and followed it, still running,though a pain in my side warned me that soon I must halt. All my huntershad abandoned the chase now but one. Every time I half turned for abackward look, I saw this one coming after me. He had dropped hisweapons, and so had enabled himself to keep up the chase. Not beingweakened by a previous swim in the Seine, he was in better form than I,and I knew that he would catch me in time. And what then? He was a largefellow, but since the struggle must come, I would better let it come ereI should be utterly exhausted. So I pretended to stagger and lurchforward, and presently came to my knees and then prone upon the ground.With a grunt of triumph, the man rushed up to me, caught me by the collarof my doublet, and raised me from the ground. Hanging limp, andapparently senseless, I put him quite off his guard.

  "Stand up!" he cried. "Stomach of the Pope! Have I come so far only totake a dead man back?"

  While he was trying to make me stand, I suddenly gathered all my energyinto my right arm and gave him a quick blow in the pit of the stomach.With a fearful howl, he let me go and fell upon his knees. A blow in theface then made him drop as limp as I had pretended to be; and I resumedmy flight, this time at a more leisurely pace.

  And now all my physical powers seemed to be leaving me. Pains racked myhead, and I seemed at one time to freeze and burn all over, at anothertime to freeze in one part and burn in another. I ached in my muscles, mybones, my stomach. At every step, I felt that it was vastly difficult totake another, that it would be ineffably sweet to sink down upon theearth and rest. Yet I knew that one taste of that sweetness meant death,and I was determined not to lose a life that had been saved from so greatperil by so great effort. Despite all the soldiers at their command, theKing of France and the Duke of Guise should not have their will with me.At last,--I know not how far from Paris,--I came to an inn. There werestill a few crowns in my pocket. Forgetting the danger from which I hadfled, not thinking that it might overtake me here, feeling only the needof immediate shelter and rest, I pounded on the door until I gotadmittance. I have never had any but the vaguest recollection of myinstallation at that inn, so near to insensibility I was when I fellagainst its door. I have a dim memory of having exchanged a few wordswith a sleepy, stolid host; of being glad of the darkness of the night,for it prevented him from noticing my wet, frozen, begrimed, bedraggled,half-dead condition; of my bargaining for the sole occupancy of a room;of his leading me up a winding stairway to a chamber; of my plunging fromthe threshold to the bed as soon as the door was opened. I slept forseveral hours. When I awoke, it was about noon, and I was very hungry andthirsty. My clothes had dried upon me, and I essayed to put them into afairly presentable condition. I found within my doublet the four letters,which had been first soaked and then stiffened. The now useless oneaddressed to the Abbot Foulon, I destroyed; then I went down to thekitchen, and saw, with relief, that it was empty. I ate and drankhurriedly but ravenously. Again the fear of capture, the impulse to putParis further and further behind, awoke in me. I bought a peasant's capfrom the landlord, telling him that the wind had blown my hat into theriver the previous night, and set forth. It was my intention to walk toLa Tournoire, that my money might last. Afoot I could the better turnfrom the road and conceal myself in woods or fields, at any intimationof pursuit. At La Tournoire, I would newly equip myself with clothes,weapons, horse, and money; and thence I would ride to Angers, and finallyaway, southward, to Nerac.

  It was a fine, sunlit day when I stepped from the inn to take the roadgoing southward. I had not gone four steps when I heard horses comingfrom the north. I sought the shelter of a shed at the side of the inn.There was a crack between two boards of this shed, through which I couldlook. The horses came into sight, ten of them. The riders werebrown-faced men, all armed with swords and pistols, and most of themhaving arquebusses slung over their backs. Their leader was a large,broad, black-bearded man, with a very ugly red face, deeply scarred onthe forehead, and with fierce black eyes. He and his men rode up to theinn, beat on the door, and, when the host came, ordered each astirrup-cup. When the landlord brought the wine, the leader asked himsome questions in a low tone. The landlord answered stupidly, shaking hishead, and the horsemen turned to resume their journey. Just as they didso, there rode up, from the south, a merry-looking young cavalierfollowed by two mounted servants. This newcomer gaily hailed theill-looking leader of the troop from the north with the words:

  "Ah, M. Barbemouche, whither bound, with your back towards Paris?"

  "For Anjou, M. de Berquin," growled the leader.

  "What!" said the other, with a grin. "Have you left the Duke of Guise totake service with the Duke of Anjou?"

  "No, M. le Vicomte," said the leader. "It is neither for nor against theDuke of Anjou that we go into his province. It is to catch a rascal whomay be now on the way to hide on his estate there, and whom my master,the Duke of Guise, would like to see back in Paris."

  "Indeed? Who is it that has given the Duke of Guise so great a desire forhis company?"

  "The Sieur de la Tournoire," replied Barbemouche. "Have you met him onthe road?"

  "I have never heard of him, before," said the young cavalier,indifferently; and he rode on northward, while Barbemouche and his mensilently took the opposite direction.

  He had never heard of me, as he said, nor I of him; yet he was to knowmuch of me at a time to come, was the Vicomte de Berquin; and so wasBarbemouche, the scowling man who was now riding towards Anjou insearch of me.