EMORY UNIVERSITY
THE
DUKE'S MOTTO;
OK
THE LITTLE PARISIAN
Romance
BY PAUL FEYAL
TRANSLATED BY BERTHA BROWNE.
" I AM HERE !"
LONDON:
WARD AND LOCK, 158, FLEET STREET
MDCCCLXIII
TO
M. FECHTER,
op the theatre royal lyceum,
§ook is gebfrateb,
in recognition op his great dramatic genius,
AND
in acknowledgment op the fact that the production op
"THE DUKE'S MOTTO"
is solely to be attributed to his enterprise,
While the popularity op the drama is in a great measure
to be ascribed to his inimitable realisation
op the character op
ITugkrbm,
the hero op the story.
CONTENTS.
PEOLOGUE.
CHAPTER PAGE
i. the chateau oe caylus 1
ii. cocaedasse and passepoil 6
iii. the theee philips 11
iv. the little parisian 16
v. the thrust of nevers 18
vi. the lower window 21
vii. lagardere's vow 26
viii. the combat 31
i. the golden house 34
ii. two ghosts 37
iii. the auction 41
iv. the hunchback 46
v. the work of the avenger 50
vi. donna cruz 54
vii. gonzagues 57
viii. nevers' widow 60
ix. the pleading *. 63
Vi CONTENTS.
chapteb page
x. i am heee! 69
xi. in which the hunchback gets himself
invited to the ball 73
xii. the house with two entbances .... 78
xiii. golden days 82
xiv. the little gipsy 85
xv. tbeacheby 89
xvi. in which aueoea takes compassion on a
little maequis 92
xvii. suspicion 98
xviii. mastee louis 103
xix. two young giels 107
xx. the theee wishes HO
xxi. two dominos 114
xxii. undeb the tents 119
xxiii. the seceet intebview 125
xxiv. a game of caeds 131
xxv. souvenies of the theee philips .... 135
xxvi. the pink dominos 140
xxvii. the daughtee of the mississippi .... 147
xxviii. the elm-teee walk 154
xxix. anotheb tete-a-tete 161
xxx. in which the fete ends 167
xxxi. the ambuscade 174
xxxii. the mabbiage contbact 184
xxxiii. the bouese undee the eegency .... 191
xxxiv. the hunchback's capbicb 199
xxxv. gascon and noeman 206
xxxvi. the invitation 212
xxxvii. the deawing-eoom and the boudoie . . 220
contents. vll
chapter page
xxxviii. an empty place 226
xxxix. a peach and a bouquet 233
xl. the new move 239
xli. the hunchback's triumph 245
xlii. italian plowebs 252
xliii. fascination 259
xliv. the signing oe the contract 266
xlv. the regent's bedchamber 277
xlvi. the pleading 285
xlvii. three ploobs op dungeons 296
xlviii. old acquaintance 304
xlix. a mother's heart 311
l. condemned to death 318
li. the last interview 327
lii. gentlemen 335
liii. the dead speaks 343
liv. the testimony of the dead 352
THE DUKE'S MOTTO;
oe,
THE LITTLE PARISIAN.
CHAPTER I.
the chateau of caylus.
The Yale of Louron, once the city of Loire, with its pagan
temples, amphitheatres, and capitol, is now a desert where
the idle plough of the Gascon peasant often blunts itself
against the marble ruins of the past. A deep cleft in the
snowy Pyrenees makes a road for the Venasquean smugglers.
Some leagues off, Paris coughs, dances, jokes, and dreams
that it cures its incurable bronchitis at Bagneres de Luchon.
On the other side, rheumatic Paris hopes to leave its sciatica
in the sulphurous baths of Barege3 les Bains. Eaith saves
Paris, in spite of iron, magnesia, and sulphur.
The Yale of Louron, the farthest limit of Gascony, spreads
out like a fan between the forest of Ens and the fine woods
of Frechet. The forest borders a rocky hill, rising near the
centre of the valley, one precipitous side of which is watered
by the dark tide of the river Clarabides. On this hill are the
ruins of the ancient castle of Caylus. Tradition reports that
the Marquis of Caylus, its rich proprietor, raised the rampart
round the little village of Tarrides to protect his Huguenot
vassals after the abjuration of Henry the Fourth. At the
beginning of the eighteenth century, the family of Caylus-
Tarrides became extinct. Francois de Tarrides, the last of
his race, belongs to our story.
In 1690, the marquis was a man of about sixty, who in
his youth had followed, without much success, the court of
Louis XIY., and had retired discontented from the scene of
splendour and folly. He now lived on his estates with his
only daughter, the beautiful Aurora de Caylus. He was nick-
named Caylus the Gaoler, for the following reason.
2 THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
"When about forty, and a widower, he fell in love with the
beautiful daughter .of Soto Mayor, governor of Pampeluna.
Inez de Soto Mayor was a lovely Spanish girl of seventeen,
whose liquid dark eyes revealed her ardent nature. It was
said that the marquis had not rendered his first wife very
happy. He kept her always shut up in the old castle, and
she died at the age of twenty-five. She told her father that
she would never marry the marquis. But in Spain, what
account is made of a young girl's will P
One beautiful evening, Inez, hidden behind her Venetian
blinds, listened for the last time to the serenade of the Cor-
regidor's son. The next day she accompanied the marquis
to France; he took her without a dowry, and, moreover, gave
a large sum to her father.
When the marquis brought his young and lovely wife to
the castle, there was a great desire to see her, but in vain.
The beautiful Inez, confined like a prisoner within the fortress,
was unapproachable. In a few years death opened her prison-
house. She died of solitude and ennui, leaving an only
daughter. After the death of his second wife, the marquis
wished to marry again. But the governor of Pampeluna had
no more daughters, and the marquis's reputation as a gaoler
was so well established that the most intrepid of the young
ladies he sought dared not venture to listen to his prayers.
So he remained a widower, awaiting with impatience the time
when his daughter would need to be padlocked. The neigh-
bouring gentry did not like him, and he often, notwithstanding
his riches, lacked company. Ennui drove him forth from his
dungeon. Every year he went to Paris, where the young
courtiers borrowed his money and made game of him. During
his absence, Aurora was left in the charge of two or three
duennas and an old chaplain.
Aurora was as beautiful as her mother. When she was
seventeen, the villagers of Tarrides often, in the dark nights,
heard the dogs at Caylus bark. About this time, Philip of
Hevers, one of the most brilliant noblemen of the court, came
to reside at his castle of Buch, in the Juran^on. The moun-
tain air restored him, and he soon followed the chase as far as
the valley of Louron. The first time that the dogs of Caylus
barked, the young duke, overcome with fatigue, had sought
shelter in the woodman's cottage.
ISTevers remained one year at the castle of Buch. The
shepherds of Tarrides lauded his generosity, and related two
nocturnal adventures during his residence.
Once, at midnight, there were lights seen in the old chapel
of Caylus. The dogs had not barked, but a dark figure,
yhich the villagers had often seen before, passed through the
THE CHATEAU OP CAYLUS. 3
brushwood after nightfall. These old castles are full of
phantoms. Another time—also at night—Dame Martha, the
youngest of the Caylus duennas, rushed from the castle to
the woodman's cottage; and a litter soon after passed through
the woods of Ens. The next day, the woodman's cottage was
deserted, its master had gone no one knew whither, and Dame
Martha was no more seen at the castle of Caylus.
Eour years passed. Philip of Hevers was no longer at his
mansion of Buck.; but another Philip, not less noble and
brilliant, honoured the Yale of Louron with his presence—■
Philip Polixenes of Mantua, Prince of Gonzagues, to whom
the Marquis of Caylus intended to give his daughter Aurora
in marriage.
Gonzagues was about thirty years of age, with fine, though
rather effeminate features, and a noble presence. His dark
hair fell in heavy curls round his white forehead; his large,
brilliant eyes shone with Italian pride. He was tall, of an ele-
gant figure, and his gestures had almost theatrical majesty
and display. His birth was illustrious; for the house of
Gonzagues vied in nobility with the Bourbons and Mont-
morencys.
His friends were equally noble. One was a member of the
house of Lorraine, the other was a Bourbon. The Duke of
Chartres, nephew to Louis XIY.,t afterwards Duke of Orleans
and Begent of Prance, the Duke of He vers, and the Prince
of Gonzagues, were inseparable friends. They were called at
court the three Philips. Philip of Gonzagues was the eldest,
the future regent was in his twenty-fifth year, the Duke of
He vers a year younger.
One may well think how greatly the prospect of such a
son-in-law flattered the pride of the old marquis. Gonzagues
was said to have immense estates in Italy; moreover, he was
cousin-german and only heir of Hevers, who, everyone
thought, was destined for an early grave. Philip of Hevers
possessed one of the richest domains in Prance. Ho one,
certainly, suspected the Prince of Gonzagues of desiring his
friend's death; but it was out of his power to prevent it, and
that death would put him in possession of millions. The
"marquis and intended bridegroom had nearly settled the mat-
ter; as to Aurora, she had not even been consulted.
It was a beautiful day in autumn. Louis XIY. growing
old and tired of war, the peace of Byswick had been con-
eluded; still, skirmishes continued on the frontier, and the
Yale of Louron was not free from marauders. In the dining-
hall of the castle of Caylus, about half-a-dozen guests were
assembled round a well-spread table. The' marquis had his
faults, but at least he made a capital host. With the excep-
4 THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
tion of the marquis, Gonzagues, and Aurora, the other guests
were of middle rank, and dependents. Firstly, Don Bernard,
chaplain of Caylus, who had also spiritual charge of the little
village of Tarrides, and who kept in the sacristy of his chapel
the registry of births, deaths, and marriages. Next, Pey-
rolles, a gentleman in the suite of the Prince of Gonzagues.
This man plays an important part in our story, therefore
we must describe him. He was a middle-aged man, with a
thin, pale face and scanty hair, and a tall and rather stooping
figure. One can scarcely fancy such a man in our day without
spectacles; but at that time they were not in fashion. Efiron-
tery was the only expression of his insignificant features.
Gonzagues said that M. Peyrolles could make good use of the
sword that hung awkwardly at his side. It was to be observed,
that the prince always praised his devoted follower; he was,
no doubt, very useful to him.
Aurora de Caylus did the honours with a cold, reserved
dignity. In general, women—even the most beautiful—are
what their feelings make them. A woman may be adorable
to the one she loves, and almost displeasing to others. But
Aurora was one of those lovely creatures who please against
their will, and are admired in spite of themselves. She wore
the Spanish dress, and voluminous folds of lace fell over the
shining jet of her hair.
Although not yet twenty, the beautiful curves round her
mouth already bespoke sadness. But what loveliness would
a smile bring to those pure lips—what brilliancy to those soft
eyes, heavily shaded with their long silken lashes ! But, alas!
it was a long time since a smile had played over that sweet
face. Her father said to himself, ' It will all change when
she becomes Princess deGonzagues,'and took no further notice.
At the end of the second course, Aurora rose, and asked
permission to retire. Dame Isidore cast a longing look at
the pastry and sweetmeats; but it was her duty to follow her
young mistress.
As Aurora left the room, the marquis assumed a more
jaunty air. 'Prince,'he said,'you owe me my revenge at
chess—are you ready ?'
'Always at your service, dear marquis,' answered Gonzagues.*
Caylus ordered the chessmen to be brought. This was the
hundred and fiftieth game that Caylus and Gonzagues had
played during the fortnight that the prince had been at the
castle. At thirty, with his figure, wealth, and station, this
violent passion for chess upon the part of the Prince of Gon-
zagues denoted either an ardent attachment to Aurora—or to
her dowry.
Every day after dinner, as well as after supper, the chess-
THE CHATEAU OP CAYLUS.
5
"board was "brought. The Marquis of Caylus had the skill of
a lad of fourteen. Every day Gonzagues allowed himself to
lose a dozen games, after which the marquis triumphantly
fell asleep. Thus Gonzagues paid his court to Aurora.
At the end of the first game, Gonzagues made a sign to
Peyrolles, who went out; and the others shortly followed his
example.
'You did not finish, yesterday,' said Gonzagues, 'the story
of that gentleman who tried to get into the castle.'
' Ah, I see, you wish to distract my attention from the
game; but it wont do!' exclaimed the marquis, laughing.
' "Well, that gentleman had half-a-dozen sword-cuts in the
ditch yonder. This has happened more than once, so even
scandal could never assail the reputation of the ladies of Caylus.'
' And what you then did as a husband, would you now do
as a father ?' asked Gonzagues, negligently.
' Assuredly,' answered Caylus. ' I know no other means
of guarding Eve's daughters. Schah mato, prince, as the
Persians say (Schah mato means, you know, ' the king is
dead,' which phrase we have corrupted into checkmate). As
for women, believe me, good swords and strong walls—in
those are the essence of their virtue.'
After saying this, the marquis sank back in his easy chair,
and dropped asleep.
Gonzagues instantly left the dining-hall.
It was two hours after noon. Peyrolles was awaiting his
master in the corridor.
'Well, friend—our knaves?' inquired Gonzagues, as soon
as he perceived his follower.
' Six have arrived,' answered Peyrolles.
' Where are they P'
' At the Adam and Eve, on the other side of the valley.'
' Who are the two absent ?'
' Master Cocardasse, junior, of Tarbes, and Brother Passe-
poil, his assistant.'
' Two good swordsmen,! said the prince. ' And the other
affair ?'
' Donna Martha is now with Mademoiselle de Caylus.'
' With the child ?'
' With the child.'
'How did she enter?'
' By the cellar window, which looks into the trenches be-
neath the bridge.'
Gonzagues reflected a moment, then said—' Have you
questioned Don Bernard ?'
'He is mute,' answered Peyrolles.
' How much did you offer ?'
6
THE DUKES MOTTO.
' Five hundred pistoles.'
' Donna Martha must know where the register is. She
must not leave the castle.'
' Very well,' said Peyrolles.
Gonzagues paced rapidly to and fro. ' I wish to speak to
her myself,' he murmured; ' but are you quite sure that my
cousin Nevers received Aurora's message ?'
' Our German took it.'
' And Nevers will come ?'
' To-night.'
They were at the entrance of the prince's apartments. At
the castle of Caylus three passages crossed each other at right
angles, one down the centre, the other along the two wings.
The prince's apartments were situated in the western wing.
At the end of the corridor was the staircase leading to the
cellars.
A noise was heard in the centre gallery. Donna Martha
came.out of Mademoiselle de Caylus's apartments, and with a
furtive but rapid step passed along the passage. It was the
hour of repose; the Spanish fashion of the siesta had crossed
the Pyrenees. Every one was asleep in the castle. Donna
Martha had reason to believe that she would meet no one.
But as she passed before the door of the prince's apartments,
Peyrolles rushed out suddenly upon her, thrust a handker-
chief into her mouth to prevent her cries, and carried her,
half-fainting, into his master's room.
CHAPTEE II.
COCAEDASSE AND EASSEPOIL.
The first, bestriding a sorry cart-horse, carried himself
proudly. He wore a buff coat, and cuirass; large funnel-
shaped boots, after the fashion of Louis XIII.; he had, more-
over, a felt hat and an enormous sword. He was Master
Cocardasse, junior, native of Toulouse, formerly fencing-
master in Paris—lately established at Tarbes, with but indif-
ferent success.
The latter looked timid and humble. He was dressed in
shabby black; his cloth cap was pulled over his ears; and,
notwithstanding the sultry heat, he had on a pair of furred
boots, and sat sideways on a donkey.
Master Cocardasse rejoiced in large, fierce moustachios,
and hair as black as a negro's; while his companion, on the
contrary, had only, a few scanty locks, and two or three
bristles of a tawny yellow under his long nose. This peace-
COCARDASSE AND PASSEPOIL.
7
able-looking traveller was, nevertheless, assistant fencing-
master; and, on occasion, could handle vigorously the largo
unwieldy sword that knocked against his donkey's sides.
His name was Amable Passepoil, a native of Villedieu in
Normandy—as famous as Conde-sur-Noireau for its boon
companions. His friends called him Friar Passepoil, from his
clerical appearance. He was as ugly as sin, notwithstanding
the sentimental air he put on whenever a red serge petticoat
crossed his path; while, on the other hand, Cocardasse would
have passed everywhere for a fine-looking fellow.
Onward they toiled under a mid-day sun. Every stone in
the road made Cocardasse's nag stumble; and every now and
then a fit of obstinacy seized Passepoil's donkey.
4 Oh!' exclaimed Cocardasse, 4 I declare that for these two
hours we have had that confounded castle and its hill before
us, and it seems no nearer yet.'
4 Patience!' cried Passepoil; 4 we shall arrive soon enough
for what we get to do.'
4 Fire and fury!' said the Gascon, with a sigh; 4 if we had
only gone on better, with our talents, we might have chosen
our work.'
4 Just so, friend,' replied the Norman; 'our passions have
been our ruin. Gambling, drinking '
4 And the fair sex!' added Passepoil, looking upwards.
They were passing now the banks of the river in the valley
of Louron, ana the steep hill before them was crowned by the
lofty battlements of the castle of Caylus. Eight and left of
its two high towers extended deep trenches, formerly filled
with water. Outside of the northern wall were a few scattered
houses of the hamlet of Tarrides. Within arose the taper
spire of the chapel, with its pointed windows in the early
Norman style. The castle of Caylus was the wonder of the
Pyrenean valleys ; but Cocardasse and Passepoil had no taste
for the fine arts.
This Cocardasse was,.no doubt, a jolly fellow when his purse
was full; and his companion even had an air of stupid good-
humour: but to-day they were both sad, and with good
reason, too. Hungry stomachs, empty purses, and dangerous
work before them.
4 Oh!' exclaimed Cocardasse, 4 I'll never touch another card
or drink another glass.'
4 And I'll never fall in love,' sighed the tender Passepoil.
41 will buy a complete outfit,' cried Cooardasse, with en-
thusiasm, 'and join the company of the Little Parisian.'
41, too,' rejoined Passepoil, 'as soldier or surgeon's as-
sistant.'
4 Should not I make a hussar ?'
S THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
' The regiment that I entered might ensure being well bled.'
And then both continued, speaking one after the other, in a
traDsport of enthusiasm.
' We should see our Little Parisian again.'
'We would spare him a blow now and then.'
' He would call me his old Cocardasse.'
' And he would laugh at Friar Passepoil, as he used to do.'
' Yes, friend,' cried the Gascon, giving a kick to his tired
horse; ' we are down -in the world now, but I feel that with
the Little Parisian I should mend my ways.'
Passepoil shook his head sadly. ' Who knows if he would
recognise us nowP' he said, despondingly.
' Oh,' rejoined Cocardasse, 'he has some heart, that fellow.'
'What a fencer !' sighed Passepoil, 'andwhat readiness!'
' What a swordsman!—what action!'
'Do you recollect his back thrust in retreat?'
' And his three thrusts to the right ?'
' Oh, a splendid fellow!—lucky at cards, and able to drink
like a fish.'
'And handsome enough to turn the heads of half the women.'
At each reply the two friends grew warmer, and stopped to
give each other a hearty shake of the hand.
' By my honour and word,' cried Cocardasse,' we will be
his servants, if he wishes.'
'And we will make him a great lord,' added Passepoil; ' and
then Peyrolles' money will bring us good luck.'
So it was Monsieur Peyrolles, the confidential friend of
Philip de Gonzagues, who caused Master Cocardasse and Friar
Passepoil's journey.
They were well acquainted with Peyrolles, and still better
with his master; for they had kept a fencing-school at Paris,
and perhaps might have made a fortune—for all the Court
went to them—had it not been for the disorder that their
besetting sins too often caused in their affairs. Some sad
pranks had forced them to leave Paris. But let us be merciful,
and not expose them. In that day Parisian fencing-masters
were the familiar companions of the proudest nobles, and
often knew both sides of the cards better than the courtiers
themselves.
Leaving Tarbes, Passepoil had said, ' JNTevers is the first
swordsman in Europe after the Little Parisian. If it concerns
Hevers, they must be generous.'
And Cocardasse had heartily acquiesced.
It was two hours after mid-day when they reached Tarrides,
and were directed to the inn of Adam and Eve. On their
entrance, the lower room was already nearly full. A young
girl waited on six thirsty guests, who had come a long way
COCAKDASSE AND PASSEPOIL. 9
under a sultry sun. Six good swords and their belongings
hung against the wall. Each man had bully written in legible
characters on his bronzed face and fierce moustachios. At the
table next the door were three Spaniards, judging from their
faces. At the next table an Italian, with a scar right across
his face. Opposite to him was a sinister-looking German. The
third table was appropriated by a churl with long, rough hair,
with a strong Breton accent. The three Spaniards were called
Saldagne, Pinto, and Pepe, or the Bullfighter; the Italian's
name was GiuseppeFaenza; the German, Staupitz; the Breton,
Joel de Jugan. Peyrolles had assembled them all.
When Cocardasse and Passepoil entered, they started back
at the sight of this respectable company, who in rough voices
cried out—' Master Cocardasse!' ' Friar Passepoil!' with ap-
propriate oaths.
' Sure enough,' rejoined Cocardasse, 'allboon companions!'
' And old friends,' added Passepoil, in a trembling voice. He
was a coward by nature, whom want had made brave. Much
shaking of hands followed.
Before the arrival of our two friends, the three groups had
kept their distance. The Breton knew no one, the German
only talked to the Italian, and the three Spaniards held them-
selves proudly apart.
Cocardasse and Passepoil formed a connecting link which
united the three groups, so well fitted to understand and ap-
predate each other. The ice was broken, and introductions
made. Each knew the other by reputation.
It was frightful to think, that the six swords hanging against
the wall had killed more men than all the executioners of
France and Navarre. The Breton, had he been an Indian,
might have had three dozen scalps around his waist; the
Italian might have seen some twenty ghosts of his victims in
his dreams. The German had murdered noblemen of all
grades, worthy citizens, lawyers, doctors, and poets. But
these were nothing to the three Spaniards, who might have
bathed in the blood of their victims.
When the first drinking-bout was over, and the buzz of the
boasting voicea of these hired assassins a little calmed, Cocar-
dasse said—'Now, my friends, let's to business.'
More wine was called for, and the trembling girl dismissed.
Passepoil sighed.
'Now, my masters,' continued Cocardasse, 'we did not
expect to meet such good company here, so far from cities,
where your talents are best paid.'
' Alas !' cried the Italian,' where can we find work ?'
All shook their heads mournfully.
' Do you know why we are here P' asked one of the
Spaniards.
10
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
The Gascon was about to answer, when Passepoil touched
his foot. Cocardasse was accustomed to follow his lieutenant's
advice.
'I know,' he answered, 'we have been brought here; and
for ordinary cases, Passepoil and I are enough.'
' "What, senors ?' cried the Bullfighter. ' When I am in a
business, a second is not wanted!'
' Are we wanted to fight a whole army, then ?' demanded
Cocardasse.
' Ho,' answered the German; ' only one man.'
Staupitz, the German, was in the service of Peyrolles, the
confidential friend of Philip de Gonzagues.
A boisterous laugh followed this announcement. Cocar-
dasse and Passepoil laughed louder than the rest.
' And who is the giant who is to fight against eight ?' asked
Passepoil.
'Philip, Duke of Hevers,' Staupitz answered.
' But he is ill,' cried one.
' Consumptive !' cried a second.
' Dying!' added a third.
Cocardasse and Passepoil pushed back their glasses, and
were silent.
' What is the matter?' cried the others.
'It looks as if you would like to give up the game!' added
Paenza.
' And not far from the mark, my master, either,' replied
Cocardasse, gravely.
A thunder of voices followed.
' We hare seen Philip of He vers at Paris,' continued
Passepoil, gently. ' He's a dying man who may cut a few
heads off yet.'
The rest shrugged their shoulders with disdain.
' I see,' said Cocardasse, t' you have never heard of the
thrust of Hevers.'
All stared.
' The thrust of old Delapalme, which did for seven fencer?
between the Boule apd the Gate of St. Honors,' continued
the fencing-master.
All listened, and ceased laughing.
' It is well we are all here,' continued Cocardasse, solemnly.
' You talk of an army—for my part, I would rather meet one.
There is only one man in the world who could cross swords
with Philip of Heveis.'
'And who is that man?' cried six voices at once.
' The Little Parisian,' answered Cocardasse.
'Ah! he is the devil himself!' cried Passepoil, with enthu-
siasm.
the three philips.
11
4 The Little Parisian—what's his name ?' cried the rest.
4 A name which you all know, my friends. He calls himself
the Chevalier de Lagardere.'
All knew the name, and were silent.
4 I have never encountered him,' said Saldagne.
4 All the better for you,' returned the Gascon.
4 He is called the handsome Lagardere,' said Pinto.
4 He killed three Flemish soldiers under the walls of Senlis.'
4 It was he ' continued a third.
But Cocardasse interrupted him, saying emphatically—
4 There are not two Lagarderes.'
CHAPTER III.
the three philips.
The only window of the public room at the Adam and Eve
looked on to a sloping bank planted with beeches, which ex-
tended to the trenches of Caylus. A cart-road crossed the
wood, and ended in a wooden bridge thrown over these
trenches, which, no longer filled with water, bore a good crop
of hay, which had just been cut. There was only one entrance
to them, which was on the road before the inn. The ramparts
that bounded these trenches were pierced with numerous
gun-holes, but only one of them was large enough for a man
to pass through. This was a low window, well barred, near
the bridge.
It was now three o'clock; and the eight friends, having
recovered their spirits, resumed their talk, but had not yet
come to blows, when Staupitz cried, 4 Hush, comrades; here
is Peyrolles.'
The factotum of the Duke de Gonzagues had indeed arrived
on horseback at the door of the inn.
'Friends,' said Passepoil, quickly, 4 He vers and his secret
thrust are worth their price—what say you to making your
fortunes at qnce, my masters ?'
4 Who would say no ?' cried all at once.
'Well, then, leave matters to Cocardasse and me, and
whatever we say to Peyrolles, support us.'
4 Agreed!' answered all in chorus.
Peyrolles entered. Passepoil took off his hat respectfully;
the others did the same. Peyrolles had a heavy bag of gold
in his hand. He threw it on the table.
4 Here, my fine fellows,' he cried, 4 here is your pay!'
Then casting a rapid glance upon each member of the party, he
said, 'How, my lads, I will tell you in two words what you
have to do.'
12
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
'All attention, good Master Peyrolles,' said Cocardasse,
with his elbows on the table.
' All attention,' repeated the rest.
' This evening,' continued Peyrolles, ' about eight o'clock, a
man will come by that road that you see under the window;
he will be on horseback, and will fasten his horse by the
bridge, leap the ditch, and—do you.see that barred window
there ?'
' Certainly, Master Peyrolles,' answered Cocardasse, ' we
are not blind.'
' The man will go to that window.'
'And at that moment wTe are to accost him ?'
' Politely,' said Peyrolles with a sinister smile, ' and your
money is gained.'
'Fire and fury!' ciied Cocardasse, 'Master Peyrolles
always has his joke.'
' Is it agreed?'
' Certainly; but you wont leave us so soon ?'
' My friends, I am in a hurry,' said Peyrolles, retreating. #
'What!' cried Cocardasse, 'without telling us the name
of the man we are to accost ?'
' What matters the name ?'
Cocardasse gave a signal. A general murmur of discontent
arose.
' Without having even given us the name of our honourable
employer ?' repeated Cocardasse.
Peyrolles looked at him with alarm.
' What is that to you?' he replied, assuming a high tone.
' It is a great deal lo us, good Master Peyrolles.'
' I cannot see that it concerns you, since you are well paid?'
' Perhaps we are not paid enough.'
' What is it, friend ?'
Cocardasse arose; the rest followed his example.
' Fire and fury!' he cried; ' let's to the point; we arc all
gentlemen, and want to know how we stand.'
Passepoil pushed a chair towards Peyrolles; the others
applauded warmly.
' My friends, since you wish so much to know, could you
not easily have guessed ? To whom does this castle belong ?'
'To the Marquis of Caylus, whose wives die young; to
Caylus the Gaoler.'
' Well, then, you work for the marquis !'
'Do you believe this?' cried Cocardasse, insolently, to the
rest.
' No,' answered Passepoil.
'No,' echoed the rest.
Peyrolles' hollow cheeks reddened.
THE THREE PHILIPS.
13
'How, fellows?' lie cried.
4 Quite right; my friends object,' said the Gascon. 'Let us
discuss the thing calmly. If I understand you, this is how
the matter stands. The marquis has learnt that a fine hand-
some fellow visited his castle by night, and used to enter by
that lower window. Is that it ?'
Peyrolles assented.
4 He knows that his daughter loves this gentleman.'
4 The whole truth,' said the factotum.
4 Thus you explain our being here. This may seem plau-
sible to some, but it is not so to me. You have told us a lie,
Master Peyrolles.'
4 The devil!' cried the other, 4 this is too insolent!"
4 Go on, Cocardasse, go on!' cried the boon-companions,
with one voice.
4 Well,' said the Gascon, nothing loth, 4 my friends and I
all know that this nightly visitor recommended to our good
offices is nothing less than a prince!'
4 A prince!' said Peyrolles, shrugging his shoulders.
4 Yes, Philip of Lorraine, Duke of Hevers.'
4 You know more than I do, then,' said the factotum, with
pretended carelessness.
4 Indeed, but that is not all; there is another thing, which
perhaps my noble friends don't know. Aurora de Caylus is
not the mistress of the prince.'
4Oh!' cried Peyrolles.
4 She is his wife!' said the Gascon, resolutely.
Peyrolles turned pale, and muttered, 4 How did you know
that?'
41 know it for certain—it little matters how; but I have
not done yet. Four years ago a secret marriage took place in
the chapel of Caylus, and, if I am well informed, you and your
master were witnesses.'
Peyrolles did not deny this. 4 What are you driving at ?'
he stammered.
4 To find out,' replied the Gascon, 4 what noble master we
are to serve to-night.'
4 He vers has married the daughter without the father's con-
sent. What more natural than that the Marquis of Caylus
should revenge himself?'
'Hothing more natural, if the good gentleman knew of his
daughter's secret marriage—which he does not. He is not
such a fool as to reject the first nobleman in France for a
son-in-law. If the prince had said to him, 44 The king wants
me to marry the Princess of Savoy, but I have secretly married
your daughter," all might have been easily arranged. But the
reputation of the marquis made Philip de He vers fear for his
wife, whom he adores.'
14 TIIE DUKE'S MOTTO.
' "Well, tlie end of all tliis ?' interrupted Peyrolles.
' Is tliat we are not working for M. de Cay Ins.'
' It is clear,' said Passepoil.
' As day,' grumbled the chorus.
' Whom do you work for, then ?' asked Peyrolles, savagely.
' Ah, my friend, we are coming to that. Do you know the
story of the three Philips ? I'll tell it you in two words.
They are three noble gentlemen. One is Philip of Mantua,
Prince of Gonzagues—your master, Master Peyrolles, who is
ruined, and' gone to the devil j the second is Philip of Never3,
whom we are waiting for ; the third is Philip of Prance, duke
of Chartres. All three young, handsome, clever. The strongest
friendship unites the three Philips, it is said ; but leaving the
king's nephew out of the question, let us speak only of Nevers
and Gonzagues, Damon and Pythias.'
' Zounds!' cried Peyrolles, ' you wouldn'-t accuse Damon of
killing Pythias ?'
1 Oh, the real Damon was not ruined, and the real Pythias
had not six hundred thousand crowns a year.'
'Which our Pythias has, and ojir Damon would inherit,'
said Passepoil.
' And the true Pythias had not a lovely mistress like Aurora
Caylus, with whom Damon was in love,' added Cocardasse,
filling his glass. ' I drink to Damon, otherwise Gonzagues,
who would have a fine fortune, and perhaps the lady, if
Pythias, otherwise Nevers, happened to die to-night.'
' To Prince'Damon's health!' cried the rest.
' Well, what say you to that, Master Peyrolles ?' said
Cocardasse triumphantly.
' I say that you lie,' muttered the factotum. ' The Prince
of Gonzagues is too far above such an infamous slander to
need exculpation.'
' Passepoil,' cried Cocardasse, ' as Master Peyrolles wont
give in, it is your turn to tackle him now."
Blushing to the ears, and in a timid voice, Passepoil began—
' I only know that three years ago, while the three Philips
led so joyous a life at Paris, that the king threatened to send
his nephew away; I was in the service of an Italian doctor,
Pierre Garba '
'I knew the man,' interrupted Eaenza. ' He was a black-
hearted villain.'
Passepoil smiled.
' He- was very learned, and used to compose a certain potion
that he called the ' Elixir of Life.''
The bullies laughed.
' Go on,' cried Cocardasse.
Peyrolles wiped the perspiration from his forehead.
THE THREE PHILIPS.
15
4 Prince Philip de Gonzagues often came to see my master,
and about this time the young Nevers was taken ill.'
4 It is a base calumny,' cried Peyrolles.
4 Have I accused any one ?' said Passepoil, innocently.
The confidant bit his lip.
4 You must allow me to retire, if you please,' he said.
• 4 Assuredly,' cried the Gaseon, laughing, 4 and we'll escort
you to the castle, and speak to the marquis.'
Peyrolles turned livid, and threw himself in a chair.
4 Go on, Passepoil,' said Cocardasse.
4 They said the young duke was likely to die,' continued
Passepoil; 4 the king was uneasy; the Duke of Chartres in-
eonsolable.'
4 Gonzagues was still more inconsolable,' added the confi-
dant.
41 don't deny it,' said Passepoil; 4 in proof of his grief, he
came every evening to my master, disguised as a servant, and
always said, 4 It is very long, doctor—very long !''
Every man in the room was a murderer, yet all shuddered.
4 One night,' continued Passepoil, 4 the prince came earlier.
'Nevers fenced to-day, and can no longer hold a sword,' he
said. 'Then,' said the doctor, 4 the end is coming—perhaps
to-morrow.' But the very next day the Duke of Chartres
carried Nevers off with him to Touraine. As my master was
not there, Nevers got well, and afterwards went on to Naples.
Gonzagues came and asked my master to take a journey there,
and he was getting ready to start, when, unluckily, the alem-
bic burst, and my poor master died from inhaling his own
elixir. But to finish my story. After a year and a half,
Nevers returned, strong as a lion: and you all know that,
after Lagardere, he is the first swordsman in the world.'
4 So good a swordsman, that Gonzagues thinks it necessary
to employ eight swords against him,' said Cocardasse, with a
mocking laugh.
4 What do you want?' cried Peyrolles ; 4more money ?'
4 Much more,' answered Cocardasse ; 4 a father avenging
his daughter's honour pays much less than a gentleman who
wishes to inherit his friend's fortune without any unpleasant
delay.'
4 What do you require ?'
1Triple the sum in that canvas bag,' replied Cocardasse,
pointing to the bag of money which still lay on the table.
4 Agreed !' said Peyrolles ; 4 anything more ?'
'Yes; we shall require to be taken into your master's
service.'
4 Be it so !' said the faetotum.
4 And thirdly ' added Cocardasse,
16 the duke's motto.
' If you ask too much ' began Peyrolles.
e If the king's nephew should seek to avenge his friend—?'
' In that case,' said Peyrolles, ' we should all go into Italy.'
Cocardasse consulted Passepoil and the rest in hurried
whispers.
' It's a bargain,' he said, after this brief consultation.
Peyrolles held out his hand; the other touched his sword.
4 The bargain is struck,' he cried ; ' I answer for the fidelity
of my comrades; and now let us finish our wine!'
CHAPTER IY.
the little parisian.
Aetee Peyrolles' departure, the boon companions continued
their carouse.
'And who is the Little Parisian?' said Saldagne.
' Another glass, and I will tell you his history,' answered
Cocardasse ; ' though there's not much in it. By birth he is
as noble as the king, though no one ever knew his father
or mother. He was a boy of twelve when I first met him
in the Palais Royal, beset by a dozen vagabonds older than
himself, who wanted to rob a poor old woman who sold
cheesecakes. I asked him his name?—Little Lagardere.
His parents ?—He had none. Who took care of him?—No
one. Where did he live ?—In the ruined turret of the
ancient castle of Lagardere. How did he keep himself?—By
plunging for money off the bridge, and by playing all sorts of
antics. I think I can see him now, mimicking the old beadle of
St. Germains, who was humpbacked. I took a fancy to the
little fellow, and asked him if he would come with me. No,
he said, because he took care of Mother Bernard—a poor old
woman to whom he brought all his money. Then I told him
all the delights of a fencing-school; his eyes glistened, and
he said, with a sigh, ' When Mother Bernard dies, I'll come
to you.' I thought no more of it; but sure enough, three
years afterwards, he came. Some young noblemen made
game of him ; the Little Parisian soon floored them. He was
so supple and agile, but as hard as iron. At a year's end he
could cross swords with me. He became a soldier; he killed
his captain, and deserted. He enlisted again, and served a
campaign in Germany. At Breslau he went out alone,
against orders, and brought back four prisoners. General
Yillars made him a cornet—he killed his colonel, and was
dismissed. What a fellow he was ! The General liked him,
and sent him to tell the king the victory of Baden ; the Duke
THE LITTLE PARISIAN.
17
of Anjou saw him, and made him his page. The duchess's
ladies fell in love with him—he was dismissed. At last
fortune smiled on him, and he became one of the king's
guards. Fire and fury! I don't know why he quitted the
court. If for a woman, so much the better for her: if for a
man, his knell is tolled!'
Cocardasse was silent—Passepoil applauded.
The sun was going down behind the trees, and the friends
were already talking of retiring, when Saldagne, who was
sitting near the window, saw a boy slide furtively down the
slope below the castle. He was about thirteen or fourteen,
and wore the dress of a page. He had no badge, but a
courier's band round his waist.
4 Pardieu!' said Carrigue, 4 that's the second time we've
seen that fellow. I've a strong suspicion that he's a spy.
Suppose we go out and question him?'
All agreeing, they divided into two companies, and took
the only two roads to the ditch.
The "boy, seeing himself entrapped, did not attempt to
escape. 4 My good sirs,' he cried, 4 do not kill me—I have
nothing.'
4 Don't tell lies!' said Carrigue j 4 you passed over the hills
this morning.'
41!' said the page.
4 Oh! he comes straight from Argeles.'
4 Argeles !' repeated the boy.
'We won't hurt you, child,' said Cocardasse j 'but to
whom are you carrying that love-letter ?'
'Love-letter!' echoed the page.
4 Let us search him,' cried Carrigue.
4 Oh, no—don't search me!' said the boy, falling on his knees.
4 What's your name?' asked Cocardasse.
4 Berichon.'
4 Who's your master ?'
There was no answer.
The men grew angry. Saldagne seized the boy by the
collar. The page flung himself away from Saldagne, and
drew a dagger scarcely larger than a plaything. He rushed
between Faenza and Staupitz, and made off; but Passepoil
caught him. Still he fought valiantly with his little weapon;
he scratched Saldagne, and kicked Staupitz. But the odds
were too much against him; his persecutor's hands grasped
him tight, when a thunderbolt at once dispersed them. One
was thrown one way, one another; two or three measured
their lengths on the ground. One man alone had caused this
commotion, and he and the boy stood in the midst of the
circle of astonished bullies.
2
18 THE DUKE'S MOTTO."
' The rascal!' cried Cocardasse, getting up. But suddenly
a smile curved his moustache.'1
' The Little Parisian !' exclaimed Passepoil.
' Captain Lagardere,' added the rest.
CHAPTER Y.
THE THETTST OE NEVEBS.
It was Lagardere, the breaker of heads and the slayer of
hearts.
The eight swordsmen did not dare to draw upon a young
fellow of eighteen, who folded his arms and smiled. Hone
of these hired assassins were cowards, but this man was
Lagardere.
Cocardasse and Passepoil had not vaunted him too highly.
There he stood—noble, frank, valiant—brilliant in his youth-
ful manhood, his shining chesnut hair falling round his broad
white forehead. Dark eyebrows and eyelashes shaded his
brilliant yet soft brown eyes; and a frequent and joyous
smile played round his mouth, which was adorned by a soft
moustache. His figure was rather above middle height, and'
Was at once supple, graceful, and vigorous. He wore the
elegant dress of the Ring's Life Guards—a little faded and
worn, but relieved by a rich velvet mantle thrown negligently
over one shoulder. The red scarf fringed with gold round
his waist showed the rank he now held.
' Have you no shame,' he cried, disdainfully, ' that you can
ill-use a child ?'
' Captain ' began Saldagne.
' Be silpnt! Who are these swaggerers ?'
Cocardasse and Passepoil came to him, hat in hand.
' Oh! my two protectors !' he exclaimed. ' What brings
you so far from home ?' He held out his hand to them.
' And the others ? I have seen you somewhere,' he said,
turning to Staupitz.
'At Cologne—you pinked me once,' said the German,
humbly.
' Ah, ah!' cried Lagardere. ' And my two champions from
Madrid, and this honest fellow, whose skull I broke with a
stick! Gentlemen, we seem to have met before; but you
found me tougher to deal with than this poor boy. Come
here, child.'
Bericl.on obeyed.
Cocardasse wished to explain why they wanted to search
the page, but Lagardere imposed silence.
' What brought you here ?' he asked the child.
THE THRUST OE NEVERS.
19
' You are kind, and I Trill tell you/' answered the boy. ' I
brought a letter.'
' To whom ?'
Berichon hesitated, and looked towards the window,
' To you,' he answered.
' Give it me.'
* And I have another letter.'
'For whom?'
' For a lady.'
Lagardere threw him his purse.
' Go, boy,' he said; ' no one will interrupt you/
The page set off, and disappeared behind the rampart.
Lagardere opened his letter. e Bravo!' he cried. ' This
is what I call a gallant message. Nevers is a noble fellow!'
' Nevers!' they all cried. ' What is it ?'
Lagardere led the way back to the inn. ' Some wine,' he
said,' and I will tell you the story. Sit you here, Cocardasse
and Passepoil; the others where they can. I must tell you,
then, that I am exiled from France.'
'Wherefore?' cried several.
'You knew the Baron of Balisson? Well, he is dead.
The king had ennobled me, you know, that I might be in his
guard; and I promised to behave well, and for six months I
kept my word. But one night, that Balisson tried to frighten
a poor little cadet from the country, so I pulled his ears ; and
of course we fought, and he fell. There is justice for you!
I deserved a reward, and, instead, I am outlawed.'
All showed their sympathy, and agreed that the arts were
not encouraged.
'Well,' continued Lagardere, 'I obey orders, and depart;
but before I go, I have a fancy to fight a duel and have a
love adventure. Now, do you know the thrust of Nevers?"
Some said old Master Delapalme had sold to the duke a
method of being quite certain of pinking a man in the middle
of the forehead between the eyes.
' I thought nothing of secret thrusts,' Lagardere continued,
'before I encountered Nevers; and his confounded thrust
broke my rest. And then, every one said this Nevers was so
handsome, so brave ; they were always talking of his horses,
his arms, his luck at cards, and gallant adventures. All this
troubled me ; so I went and waited for his coming from the
Louvre, and I said—' Sir, relying on your great courtesy, I
have come to ask you to teach me your secret thrust.'
' ' Who are you ?' he said.
'' I am Lagardere, of the King's Life Guards, formerly
cornet of Ferte, lieutenant of Conti, captain in the regiment
of Navarre.'
2—2
20 THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
'' Ala!' he cried, getting off his horse. ' You are the hand-
some Lagardere. I am tired of hearing your praises!'
' We went down by the church of St. Germain.'
' If you do not think me of too low rank ?' I asked.
'His answer was a thrust so straight and prompt that,
without a leap, I might have fallen.
' ' That is my thrust,' he said.
' ' Another little lesson,' I cried.
' He pinked me right on the forehead that time.'
'You saw only fire, then, my Little Parisian?' insinuated
Cocardasse.
'I saw the feint, but not the parry,' answered Lagardere.
'Severs is so quick, and the watch came and parted us.'
' So Nevers will always have you at advantage,' cried
Cocardasse.
'Not so sure,' answered Lagardere.
' What! you know the secret ?'
' Pardieu! I studied it well.'
'Well?;
' Oh, it is nothing.'
The swordsmen drew breath.
'Sir knight,' said Cocardasse, very humbly, 'might I ask
you the greatest favour ?'
' Certainly.'
' Would you show me that thrust ?'
' With very great pleasure,' answered the Little Parisian.
Lagardere and Cocardasse put themselves on their guard.
The others made a circle round them.
' One, two, tierce, parry; to the.right; draw back, parry;
one, two, a pass under the sword, and forward,' cried Lagar-
dere, in sharp and rapid accents.
Cocardasse jumped aside.
' I see a thousand candles !'
'And the parry?' cried they all.
' Clear as daylight,' said Lagardere. ' Come ! tierce—draw
back, prime twice—parry—foil—the trick is done!'
' Have you caught it?' cried Cocardasse to the rest, wiping
his forehead. ' It might serve '
' It will serve at once,' said Lagardere, and he opened his
letter. ' Nevers promised me my revenge,' he said; ' I wrote
to him, and here is his answer. What a fine fellow he is!
When I am only his match I shall love him like a brother.
He agrees to meet me here, at dusk, in the trenches of
Caylus.'
A profound silence followed this announcement.
Passepoil put his finger on his lip.
' Why choose this place ?' asked Cocardasse.
THE LOWER WINDOW.
21
' Oh!' said Lagardere, laughing, ' I heard that the old
marquis here was the best gaoler in the world: and having
met his daughter Aurora at the village festival at Tarbos—by
my faith! she is adorably beautiful—after my little sally
with Nevers I wished to console the charming recluse.'
' Have you the key of the gaol, captain ?' demanded Co-
cardasse. <
' Oh, I shall enter somehow—by the door—by the window.
It wont be the first fortress I have taken by assault. Don't
you think it will be a delightful adventure?'
' Yery delightful,' answered Cocardasse; 'but may I ask
if you have spoken of the lady in your letter to Nevers?'
' Assuredly; I explained the whole matter. But how
grave you all look !'
' We are thinking that it is fortunate that we are here to
help you.'
Lagardere burst out laughing.
'You wont laugh when I tell you that it will be no plea-
sant trial of skill between you and Nevers to-night, but a
matter of life and death. Nevers is the lady's husband.'
Lagardere laughed the more.
' Bravo !' he cried ; ' a secret marriage—a Spanish ro-
mance! Capital! I did not expect such a splendid adven-
ture.'
'And that such a man should be outlawed !' said Passepoil,
with emotion.
CHAPTER YI.
the lower window.
The night was dark. The massive towers of the castle were
dimly visible in the obscurity.
' Come, sir,' said Cocardasse to Lagardere, who was girding
on his sword ; ' no false shame. Let us help you in this fight.'
' Or with the lady,' added Passepoil.
Lagardere shook his head.
' Another glass, and then leave me to settle my own busi-
ness; that is the greatest favour you can do me,' he said,
carelessly.
The Gascon took Lagardere aside.
' I would lay down my life for you, but we must not leave
this place.'
' Why ?'
' Because we are waiting for some one.'
'Who is it?'
' Don't be angry; that some one is Philip of Nevers.'
22
THE EUKE'lOrOTTO.
Lagardere shuddered.
' And why are you waiting for the duke ?'
' On the part of a worthy gentleman, who
He had no time to finish his speech; Lagardere grasped
him by the throat.
' Assassination!' cried the Parisian; ' and you dare tell
this to me ?'
' Allow me to say one word,' began Passepoil.^
' Silence, fellows ! I forbid you to touch a hair of his head.
If Nevers dies, it shall be by my hand, and in loyal combat;
not by yours, by all that's infernal, while I am alive!'
He drew himself up proudly; his voice did not tremble,
but vibrated with passion.
'And was it for this that you wanted to learn Nevers'
thrust ?—and I—bah! It is shame only to have been in the
company of such wretches.'
' That is a. hard word,' sighed Passepoil.
Cocardasse swore in true Gascon fashion.
' Off with you!' cried Lagardere, ' or, by my soul, you shall
have to do with me !' And he drew his sword. Cocardasse
and Passepoil kept back the other ruffians, who, trusting in
their numbers, were inclined to revolt.
' What harm is it to us,' insinuated Passepoil, ' if the
chevalier wants to do our work ?'
They all departed, forgetting to pay for their wine; but
Passepoil snatched a kiss from the girl who asked for her
money. Lagardere was left alone. He paid for all, and de-
sired the girl to close the house.
' Shut your shutters as close as you can,' he said, ' and bolt
your doors. Let every creature in this house sleep as soundly
as the dead themselves. Whatever you hear in the trenches
yonder, keep your thoughts to yourselves. It will not con-
cern you.' Having said this, the chevalier left the house.
'Eight against one—the wretches!' he murmured as he
took the path down the trenches.
He reached the drawbridge; his eyes had become used to
the darkness, and he could see the low-barred window. He
was at the foot of the high wall.
' Well,' he said to himself, for all his natural vivacity had
returned, ' what shall I say to that proud beauty ? Already
I can see the flash of her dark, angry eyes.'
He heard the sounds of footsteps approaching, and the ring
of silver spurs. Py the light of the dim torch at the top of
the drawbridge, Lagardere could see two men, wrapped in
large cloaks ; they were trying in the darkness to look down
tbe trench.
' I see no one.' said one. in a low voice.
THE LOWER WINDOW.
23
4 Yes, I see a man near the window,' answered the other j
and he called stealthily, 4 Cocardasse!'
No answer.
4 Faenza.! it is I, Master Peyrolles.'
4 I fancy I know that rascal,' thought the Parisian.
4 Staupitz, Passepoil!' cried Peyrolles again.
4 The man is not one of ours,' grumbled his companion.
4 Impossible,' answered Peyrolles. 41 told them to keep
watch. It is Saldagne; I recognise him. Saldagne!'
4 Here !' answered Lagardere, imitating at hazard the
Spanish accent.
4 Oh, I was sure,' cried Peyrolles; 4 let us go down the
steps.'
The two men descended. Peyrolles' companion was a tall
man of noble aspect, and Lagardere thought he detected the
Italian accent.
44 Speak low,' this man said, cautiously descending the steep,
narrow steps.
4 Useless, prince,' replied the factotum; 4 the rascals know
well who pays them. I did my best; but they would not
believe it was the Marquis of Caylus.'
4 A fine thing to know!' thought Lagardere; 'apparently
I have two precious rogues to deal with.'
4 You have been to the chapel?' asked the one who seemed
the master.
4 Yes ; but I was too late,' replied the other.
4 Fool!' cried the master, angrily.
41 did all I could, prince. I found the register in which
Don Bernard had inscribed the marriage of Aurora de Caylus
with the Duke of Nevers, and also the birth of their daughter.'
4 Well P'
4 The pages containing those registries had been torn out.'
Lagardere listened eagerly.
4 We have been forestalled,' said the master, with vexation;
4 but by whom ? Yes, it must be Aurora. She expects to see
Nevers to-night, and she wishes to give him the child and the
deeds which prove its birth. Dame Martha could not tefi. me
this, as she did not know it herself; but I guess it.'
'Well, what does it matter?' said Peyrolles. 'Nevers
once dead '
'Nevers dead, his estates go to his child.'
There was silence for a'few minutes.
4 And the child ?' whispered Peyrolles.
4 The child will disappear," interrupted the other. 41
would have avoided this extremity; but it shall not stop me.
What sort of man is Saldagne ?'
4 A finished rogue,'
u
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
4 Is lie to be trusted ?'
4 Y es, if he is well paid.'
The master pondered.
4 I should have wished to have trusted only to ourselves;
but neither of us have Nevers' figure.'
4 You are too tall, and I am too thin,' replied Peyrolles.
4 How dark it is !' said the master. 4 So Saldagne is, you
say, about the duke's height?'
4 He is.'
4 Call him hither.'
4 Saldagne!' cried Peyrolles.
4 Here,' answered the Parisian.
4 Come forward.'
Lagardere advanced. He had pulled up the collar of his
cloak, and the deep brim of his hat concealed his face.
4 Would you like to gain fifty crowns, besides your share of
the bounty ?' asked the master.
4 Fifty crowns !' asked Lagardere. 4 What must I do ?'
Whilst speaking, he tried to make out the stranger's fea-
tures ; but in vain.
4 Do you guess ?' said the master to Peyrolles.
4 Yes ; but the password ?'
4 Martha gave it me: it is Nevers' device—Adsum.'
4 Yes; but he does not say it in Latin. He says, simply,
41 am here!'
4 You will say those words softly under that window,' said
the Unknown. 4 The shutters will open, and a woman will
come forward. She will speak to you; but you must not
utter a word, but keep your fingers on your lips.'
4 To make it seem that we are watched. Yes; I understand.'
4 The fellow is sharp,' whispered the master; and then he
continued—' The woman will give you a bundle; you are to
take it in silence, and bring it to me.'
4 And you are to give me fifty crowns?'
4 Yes.'
4 Then I'm your man.'
4 Hush !' said Peyrolles.
They all listened. A distant noise was heard.
4 Let us leave,' said the master. 4 Where are your com-
rades ?'
Lagardere pointed to the other side of the trenches.
4 Good ! You remember the password ?'
4 41 am here !'' said Lagardere.
4 Eight. I shall expect you by and by.'
4 By and by,' repeated Lagardere, touching his hat.
Peyrolles and his companion mounted the steps. Lagar-
dere followed them with his eyes. B
THIS LOWER WINDOW.
25
* What an effort it was,' he said, wiping his face, 4 to keep
from striking those fellows ! But let's follow this adventure
to the end.'
The chevalier had quite forgotten his duel and his foolish
gallantry.
'What am I to do ?' he thought. 4 Carry off the child—
for the bundle must be it. But to whom can I trust it ? I
have no one here but these rascals. Fine guardians they
would make for a young lady! Still, I must get her, else
these wretches will kill her, as they hope to murder her
father.'
Much agitated, he walked between the haystacks, watching
the low window. Presently he heard a slight noise.
4 I am here,' said a sweet but trembling woman's voice.
4 I am here,' answered Lagardere.
4 Thank Heaven!' replied the voice from the window.
The shutters were thrown open. The night was very
dark; but the Parisian could still recognise Aurora, pale and
trembling, though still beautiful, leaning out of the window.
Had any one reminded Lagardere that he wished to enter that
lady's chamber, he would have given a positive denial. Per-
haps at that moment there awoke in him another and abetter
life.
Aurora looked around. 'I see nothing,' she murmured.
4 Where are you, Philip ?'
Lagardere held out his hand, which she pressed to her
heart. Lagardere shuddered, and tears arose to his eyes.
4 Philip, Philip!' cried the lady, 4 are you sure you have
not been followed ? I fear that we are betrayed 1'
' Take courage, madam,' muttered the Parisian.
4 Is, that you, Philip ?' she cried. 4 Good Heavens! am I
mad ? I no longer know your voice!' She held the bundle
that Peyrolles and his friend had mentioned. 41 have so
much to tell you; but where to begin '
'There is not time,' murmured Lagardere, ashamed to
trespass on her confidence; 4 we must make haste, madam.'
'Why that cold tone? Why don't you call me Aurora?
Are you angry with me ?'
4 Quick! quick, Aurora!'
41 obey, my dearest Philip. Here is our little darling : she
is no longer safe with me. My letter told you there is trea-
chery around us.' She held out the child, wrapped up in a
silk mantle.
Lagardere took it in silence.
4 Oh, let me embrace her once more!' cried the poor
mother, bursting into tears. 4 Oh, when shall I see her
again?' Her voice was almost choked by her sobs.
2g the duke's motto.
Lagardere perceived that she was holding to him something
white. * What is this ?'
' Oh, you know; but you are as troubled as I am. These
are the pages torn from the registry in the chapel. All our
child's future depends on their safe preservation.'
Lagardere took the papers in silence j he feared to speak.
At that moment the plaintive sound of a horn was heard at a
distance.
'That must be a signal!' cried Aurora, 'Save yourself—
save yourself, Philip!'
' Farewell!' cried Lagardere, playing his part to the last,
not to break the poor mother's heart. ' Fear nothing; your
child is safe!'
She drew his hand towards her and kissed it—then closed
the shutters and disappeared.
CHAPTEE VII.
lagaedebe's vow.
The horn was a signal.
The Duke of Hevers was approaching the castle of Caylus,
recalled by an entreating letter from his young wife, and also
by the insolent message of Lagardere.
On the road by which the duke travelled there were many
places where a murder might be committed with impunity ;
but Philip of Gonzague? wished that the assassination of his
kinsman should pass as an act of vengeance on the part of the
Lord of Caylus.
So here is the noble Lagardere—the incorrigible duellist,
the first swordsman in France, as wild and reckless as he is
brave—with a little girl of two years in his arms. He was,
one may be sure, rather embarrassed; he carried the child
awkwardly, and hushed it in his strong arms as he best could.
His only fear was to awaken the little thing.
' Hushaby, pretty one—hushaby!' he said, smiling, though
with tears in his eyes.
His old comrades, the troopers, could never have guessed
what this terrible fighter was about on his way to exile. He
was engrossed in his office of nurse.
He looked at the little Aurora, but was afraid of kissing
her. The infant was a pretty little creature, white and pink,
with long, dark eyelashes, like its mother's; a sweet, sleeping
angel. Lagardere felt its soft breath, as it calmly rested on
his arm.
' Poor babe! she sleeps," he murmured, ' while her mother
LAGARDERES VOW.
27
weeps for lier father, perhaps. Ah, what a change it has
made in me ! That hairbrained Lagardere has been entrusted
with a young child! Well—well, he will have now to protect
it. How sweetly it sleeps ! I wonder what those little crea-
tures dream ? And then there is a soul in that lovely casket
—a woman's soul, that will one day charm, love, and, alas!
suffer. How delightful, by cherishing and tenderness, to
gain the love of these little darlings—to watch the first smile
—to feel the first kiss! Oh, how easy—how pleasant to de-
vote one's whole life to the happiness of this beautiful and
innocent young creature!' And a thousand such thoughts
passed through Lagardere's brain, which many clever men
would never have dreamed of, but which a mother could well
understand. At last, with a sigh of deep contrition, he said—
* Alas ! I never before held a child in my arms.'
Another horn was heard, and Lagardere felt sure it could
only be He vers.
The duke had left his horse at the little inn, and was ap-
proaching on foot.
4 It is he!' muttered the Parisian.
The duke was approaching with a rapid footstep. Henri
de Lagardere could see him pass the light on the bridge, and
then heard him descend the steps. When Philip de Nevers
reached the bottom Of the trench, the Parisian heard him
draw his sword.
'A torch would not be amiss,' said Nevers, feeling his way
among the hayricks. 4 Does that devil of a Lagardere want
me to play at blindman's-buff?' he continued, impatiently.
e Halloa! Is there any one here ?'
4 I am here,' answered the Parisian, 4 and would to Heaven
I were alone!'
Nevers hastened towards the place whence the voice came.
4 To work, sir!' he said. 4 Let me only feel your sword, to
know where you are. I have little time to spare.'
The Parisian had still the child in his arms. The infant
slept as soundly as in its cradle.
'Listen to me first, Nevers !' cried Henri de Lagardere.
41 defy you to make me do that, after the message you
sent me this morning,' answered Philip de Nevers. 41 see
you now ; defend yourself!'
Lagardere had not even thought of drawing. His sword,
which usually jumped from the t scabbard, seemed as fast
asleep as the little angel in his arms.
4 When I sent you that message, I did not know what I
know now.'
4 Oh !' cried the duke, with a mocking accent; 4 we don't
like fighting in the dark !'
28
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
He raised Lis weapon. Lagardere drew His sword, crying,
' Listen to me, tlien.'
' That you may again insult Lady Aurora, I suppose ?' re-
turned the duke, angrily.
'No, upon°my honour. I want to tell you The
devil!'he continued. 'Take care!'
Hevers, in a rage, threw himself upon the Parisian, dealing
thrust after thrust, with all the ardour and speed which made
him so formidable an antagonist. Lagardere parried, and drew
back at every blow, calling out again and again—' Only hear
me—hear me!'
'Ho, no !' cried He vers, thrusting right and left.
At last the Parisian felt himself against the wall. ' You
see I can't draw back any further,' he said, in an accent of
distress.
' So much the better,' returned the other.
' By all that's infernal!' cried Lagardere, impatiently,
' must I cleave your skull, to keep you from killing your
own child ?'
These words struck like a thunderbolt upon the duke's ear;
the sword fell from his hand.
' My child!' he cried, 'in your arms!'
Lagardere had wrapped his precious charge in his cloak,
and He vers thought he was using his cloak for a shield—a
common practice amongst duellists. His blood ran cold when
he thought of the furious thrusts he had dealt. His sword
might have pierced the innocent heart of his own child.
' Chevalier,' he said, ' we are both fools, as well as others;
but you are honourable, brave, and valiant. Had I been told
that you had sold yourself to the Marquis of Caylus, I would
never have believed it.'
' Thanks !' said the Parisian, out of breath. ' What a storm
of blows!'
'Give me my child,' cried Hevers, attempting to raise the
cloak.
The Parisian pushed away his hand. ' Softly, or you will
wake her.'
' Tell me, at all events •'
'What a fellow it is!' exclaimed Lagardere. 'Three
minutes ago he would not let me speak; -and now he wants
whole histories! Embrace her, father'; but gently very
gently.'
Hevers did as he was told.
'Was there ever such a thing known?' asked Lagardere,
with artless pride; ' to parry an attack of Hevers—of Hevers
in anger—without striking a blow, and a child asleep on one's
arm!'
LAGARDilllE's VOW.
29
' In Heaven's name!' entreated tlie duke.
' Say, at least, tliat it was hard work,' said Lagardere.
' You wish to know how I came by this little treasure P No
more kisses, papa. We are already old friends, baby and me.
I would wager a hundred crowns, if I had them, that she
smiles on me when she awakes!'
He wrapped the little thing in his cloak, and laid it, with
all the care and tenderness of a nurse, on the hay under tho
bridge.
' Duke,' he said, in a serious, manly tone, ' whatever hap-
pens, I will defend your daughter with my life; and thus I
expiate the wrong of having spoken lightly of her mother,
who is a beautiful, a noble woman!'
'You will kill me !' grumbled Nevers. 'What! have you
seen Aurora ?'
• Yp<* '
' Where ?'
' At yonder window.'
'And she gave you the child?'
' She thought she was confiding it to its father.'
'I am bewildered!'
' Ah, sir! strange things have come to pass. If you want
fighting, Heaven knows you will have enough directly.'
'An attack?' asked Nevers.
The Parisian stooped, and put his ear to the ground.
' I thought they were coming,' he said.
' Who ?'
'Assassins, who are engaged to murder you,' answered
Lagardere.
He then related in a few words the conversation between
Peyrolles and the Unknown, and his interview with Aurora.
Nevers listened astounded. " Peyrolles,' he said at last,
' is the confidential friend of the Prince of Gonzagues—my
best friend, my brother!'
' I have not the honour of knowing him,' said Lagardere.
' I don't know that it was he.'
' Impossible !' cried Nevers. ' Peyrolles looks a scoundrel;
he may have been bought by the marquis.'
Lagardere polished his sword with the flap of his coat.
' It was not the marquis,' he said; ' it was a young man.
But let us not lose time in supposition. Whoever he is, he
is a clever rascal. He even knew your password; so I was
able to deceive Lady Aurora. Ah! she loves you well; and
I could have kissed the ground under her feet, to make
amends for my folly. You will find a sealed packet with the
child—the registry of her birth and your marriage ; and that
is all I have to tell you. Ah! my lady,' he continued, looking
30 THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
at his sword, 4 now our toilet is over. We have committed
follies enough, let us strike now for a good cause.'
4 Lagardere,' cried Hevers, much moved, 4 I did not know
you. You are a noble fellow
'I!' returned the other, laughing. 4 Why, I can think of
nothing hut getting married as fast as possible, that I may
have a little darling to kiss. But hush ! This time I am not
at fault—they are coming! Have you any one with you ?'
4 Only my page, Berichon.'
4 Will you call him ?'
He vers whistled—the page appeared on the rampart.
4 Jump !' said Lagardere, who caught him in his arms.
4 Make haste,' said the little fellow; ' they are coming from
above.'
4 I thought they were below,' said Lagardere.
4 Oh, they are on all sides.'
4 But only eight,' said the Parisian.
4 More than twenty,', answered Berichon.
4 Oh! what does it matter?' Returned Lagardere. 'You
must take horse, and gallop with all speed to Gau, my boy,
and fetch my men. Half-an-hour will take you there and
hack. Off with you. The deuce!' cried the Parisian; 44 we'll
hold out half-an-hour, at least. Let us only make our bar-
ricades.'
'Look!' exclaimed the young duke.
4 Oh! that is Passepoil—a fellow who never lets his blade
rust. Cocardasse is with him. Those two wont harm us.'
At the bottom of the ditch, besides the hayricks, there were
clumps of trees, branches, and a hay-cart. Lagardere and
H evers improvised a barricade in all haste, placing the child
in the centre. It was a poor defence ; still, in the darkness,
it might embarrass the besiegers. Whilst working hard at it,
He vers said—4 And you will fight for me ?'
'With all my heart, duke! A little for you, and im-
mensely for your little girl.'
'Chevalier,' said Hevers, 'never shall I forget this. Hence-
forth, we will live or die together.'
Lagardere held out his hand: the duke embraced him.
'Brother, if I live, we will share alike; if I die '
4 You will not die,' cried the Parisian.
4 If I die ' repeated Hevers.
4 Then, by my hope of Heaven, I will be a father to your
child!'answered Henri de Lagardere, with a solemn accent,
and extending his hand to the heaven above him. as he Spoke.
The two men held each other a moment in a close embrace.
4 To our weapons!' cried the Parisian. 4 They come!'
31
CHAPTER VIII.
the combat.
There were twenty at least. Sfcaupitz's party was reinforced
by the smugglers of Mialkat and a few highwaymen. Pey-
rolles had found his men in ambuscade, and had been much
astonished at seeing Saldagne.
An explanation ensued. When Peyrolles learnt to whom
he had committed himself, he was seized with terror, notwith-
standing he was told of the mortal enmity between Nevers
and Lagardere. He knew by instinct that the disclosure of
the meditated treachery would make them both fast friends.
He sent out Staupitz, Pinto, and Saldagne to recruit more
bullies, and took upon himself to warn his master and to
watch Aurora.
Cocardasse and Passepoil watched these arrangements with
sorrow. True, they were paid murderers, whose swords were
sold as much as the bully's dagger or the bandit's knife; still,
they loved their Little Parisian. The little orphan of the
ruined castle of Lagardere had touched the tenderest part of
their rough natures j they prided themselves on their noble
pupil, and willingly would have risked their lives in his de-
fence. To find themselves thus opposed to him grieved them
sorely.
When the assault began, Passepoil said with a sigh, 'We
must do our best.'
But Cocardasse answered, ' Impossible! Do as I do.'
He took from his pocket the steel knob or button that he
used in his school of arms, and put it on the point of his
sword; Passepoil did the same. Both weapons were thus
rendered useless for any deadly purpose.
The attack was made on all sides. Without the feeble
barricades, Nevers and Lagardere must have succumbed at
once; but the swordsmen, with their heavy armour and long
swords, little expecting the obstacles that blocked up their
pathway, got entangled among the hay and blocks of wood.
Two only reached our two champions, who fought close to-
gether, their backs against the wall. These two were wounded,
and the rest gave way.
Nevers and his ally now attacked in tin ir turn. Lagardere
laid a smuggler prostrate, disabled a robber, and knocked
down a third. This third man was Staupitz, who fell heavily.
He vers, too, cut and slashed away on all sides.
' I am Ik re! I am here!' they cried.
While fi ;hting vigorously, Nevers saw two shadows steal-
ing round by the bridge. * This way, Sir Knight!" he cried.
32 THE DUJKElHSroTTO.
Lagarddre stopped only to give a last Wow to Pinto, wliicli
cost him an ear.
' Good Heavens!' cried the Little Parisian, ' I had almost
forgotten the sleeping angel!'
A moment's silence reigned in the ditches: a quarter of an
hour had elapsed since the attack began.
' The rascals will soon be at it again, duke!' cried Lagardere.
' Are you wounded ?'
' Only a scratch on the forehead.'
The Parisian ground his teeth with vexation. This was the
effect of his lessons in fencing.
The attack was renewed this time resolutely, and with a
concentrated effort. The assailants came on in two lines, and
put aside the obstacles as they advanced.
'We must stand our ground firmly,' whispered Lagardcre.
' Only take care of yourself, duke; leave the child to me.'
A dark and silent circle with drawn swords hemmed in the
Parisian and He vers.
'I am here!' cried Lagardere, and dealt a blow.
The matador fell, and two smugglers stumbled over him.
The bullies drew back a moment.
'I am here!' cried Nevers, and brandished his weapon with
irresistible force.
'Come, Saldagne—come on, Faenza!' shouted the Parisian,
as the hired assassins recoiled. ' Why, to reach you, one
would need a spear as tall as a cathedral!'
He laid about him vigorously; already the smugglers gave
way, when two men appeared at the low window—Peyrolles
and his master.
' The cowardly wretches!' muttered the latter. ' Are they
not strong enough—ten to one ? Must I take part in it, too P'
' Have a care, prince!' cried the other.
In truth, the circle become larger—the assassins gave way.
It wanted now only a few minutes to the hall-hour. Lagar-
dere had not a scratch, Hevers only the one on his forehead.
But, flushed with success, they forgot prudence, and advanced
too precipitately on the assailants. Lagardere charged Joel,
Faenza, Cocardasse, and Passepoil; Hevers encountered the
three Spaniards.
Lagardere dealt a furious thrust at Joel and Faenza, and
disabled them; then, turning quickly, he gave a violent blow
on the head to the matador, who was closing with the duke.
The cry of ' Surrender!' was raised.
' Forward!' shouted the Parisian, furiously.
' Forward!' repeated the duke.
Everything gave way before Lagardere, who in a moment
was at the other end of the ditch. But the duke, walled in
THE COMBAT.
33
by swords, advanced more slowly. He was not a man to cry
out for help; he bravely fronted his foes, and had already
wounded Pinto and Saldagne.
At this moment the low window opened, and the two men
descended from it into the ditch. Both held drawn swords,
and the tallest had a mask over his face.
'Victory!' cried the Parisian.
Hovers answered with a cry of agony. The man with the
mask had stabbed him from behind. Hevers fell, wounded
mortally. His dying gaze was fixed on his murderer; an ex-
pression of bitter grief passed over his face.
' You—you!' he murmured, ' for whom I would have risked
my life a hundred times.'
' I only take yours once,' replied the other coldly.
' He is dead!' said Gonzagues. ' To the other.'
There was no need to seek the other. Lagardere, when he
heard the dying cry of the duke, rushed towards him, followed
closely by Cocardasse and Passepoil. As easily could a
furious lion have been stopped springing on his prey. The two
ruffians rolled on the grass.
The Parisian reached Nevers, who raised himself slightly,
and, with a dying voice, whispered—' Brother, remember—
avenge my death!'
' I swear by Heaven,' answered the Parisian, ' the assassins
of this night shall all die by my hand!'
The child uttered a faint scream, as if awakened by its
father's death-cry.
' On! on!' cried the man in the mask.
'You alone I do not know,' said Lagardere, rising; 'but
I have sworn to avenge Philip of Nevers, and I must keep
my oath when the time comes.'
Five swordsmen and Peyrolles were between the Little
Parisian and the masked man. The smugglers no longer
made any resistance. The Parisian seized for a shield a truss
of hay; he leaped into the centre of the circle, and had only
Saldagne and Peyrolles between him and the man he sought.
His sword, thrust between these two, inflicted a deep cut on
Gonzagues' head.
'You are marked for life, coward! 'cried Lagardere, retreat-
ing; for he had heard the cry of the awakened child. In.
three bounds he was under the bridge. The moon had now
risen above the tower. All saw him take a bundle in his arms.
' On—on!' cried the master in a rage. ' Hevers' child must
be ours at any cost!'
But the ruffians had lost heart, and Cocardasse intentionally
augmented their fear.
' The knave wants to finish us all!' he muttered.
3
34: the duke's motto.
To gain the steps Lagardere had only to brandish his blade.
All instinctively gave way. The gallop of a troop of horse-
men was heard approaching. Lagardere held up the child.
'Yes,' he cried, turning to the masked assassin, 'this is the
child of Philip de Hevers! Come, dastardly wretch, and
seek it at my hand—you, who planned the murder and your-
self dealt the treacherous death-blow! Whoever you are, I
have marked and shall remember you. And when the time
comes, if you seek not Lagardere, Lagardere swears to seek
you, at the hazard of his life!'
end oe peologue.
CHAPTER I.
the golden house.
Louis XIV. had been dead two years. He had outlived his
son and grandson, and the crown descended to his great-
grandson—a child. The great king's will and the family
council had been set aside without opposition, except some
ineffectual attempts from the Duke de Maine and his legiti-
mated children.
The Duke of Orleans, who had, like Brutus, played the
buffoon during his uncle's lifetime, threw down the mask, and
was declared regent.
It was a strange epoch, on which most writers cry shame.
Orgies and mammon reigned supreme.
It was the month of September, 1717, nineteen years after
the events recorded in the first part of our story. The cele-
brated Scottish speculator, John Law, was at the height of
his success and power. His bank, his Indian company, his
bank-notes, all made him the real minister of finance for the
kingdom of France, though Argenson held the office.
The regent, whose great natural talents had been blasted,
first by an effeminate education, afterwards by excesses of
every kind, was the dupe of this man Law, and a firm believer
in his golden dreams. At this time the shares in the new
Indian company, which were called filles (girls, or daughters),
to distinguish them from the old ones, called meres (mothers),
were five hundred per cent. Petites-Jilles (grand-daughters,)
created a little later, were held in equal repute. In three
years' time, these promissory-notes were waste-paper.
We will not attempt to paint the manners of the age. If a
great nation could be dishonoured, this regency would have
left an indelible stain on the honour of France.
It was morning, and workmen of all kinds passed up the
The golden house. 35
street St. i)enis, and turned the corner of the narrow street
St. Magloire, opposite the church of the same name, which at
that day was surrounded by a graveyard. They entered the
noble portal of the ancient castle of Loraine, which, since the
time of Louis XIII., had taken the title of Nevers, and was
now often called the palace of Gonzagues, from the name of
its present owner.
The Prince of Gonzagues had become, after the regent and
Law, the richest and most important man in France. He en-
joyed all Nevers' wealth, both as presumptive heir of the late
duke, and from his marriage with his widow, which marriage
also brought him the immense fortune of the Marquis of
Caylus, deceased.
Should the reader be surprised at this marriage, he must
remember that the castle of Caylus was in an isolated place,
and two young women had died there captives. Caylus the
gaoler was quite capable of using violence, and the Prince of
Gonzagues was little likely to be over-scrupulous.
For eighteen years the widow of Nevers had borne the
prince's name. She had never for one day quitted her weeds,
even to go to the altar; and on the evening of the marriage,
when Gonzagues sought her room, she motioned the prince
to the door with one hand, while with the other she held a
dagger pointed to her heart.
'I live,' she said, 'for Nevers' daughter; but human
sacrifice has its limits. Advance one step, and I rejoin my
husband!"
Gonzagues needed his wife's fortune; he bowed proudly,
and retired.
Since that night, never had the princess spoken to her
husband. He was courteous, engaging, tender; she remained
cold and silent. Every day, at the hour of meals, the prince
sent his butler to tell the princess. Each time, the first lady-
in-waiting of the princess replied that her lady was indisposed,
and begged to be excused.
Gonzagues often spoke affectionately of hi3 wife, and would
have had the world believe that he lived on the best and most
intimate terms with her; but no one was deceived. Gonzagues
was strong-minded, cool, calculating, and remarkably clever;
his manners were tinctured with the rather theatrical dignity
of his country; he lied with an effrontery almost heroic, and
though the most shameless libertine of the Court, his public
speeches were rigidly moral.
The regent called him his best friend, and every one ap-
plauded the efforts he made to find Nevers' child. The proofs
of this child's death, had they been forthcoming, would have
made Philip of Gonzagues heir to the duke's vast wealth; but
3—2
36
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
the widow of the latter, though yielding to paternal authority,
had shown herself inflexible in regard to her daughter's in-
terests. Towards the end of this summer there had been some
talk of a family council to regulate these matters; but Gon-
zagues was so busy, and so rich besides, that he had little
reason to be impatient.
All these workmen were assembled by order of Gonzagues
to make alterations in the fine old castle of Nevers, which the
duke, and afterwards Gonzagues, had spared no pains or cost
to embellish. Paris, indeed, possessed not a more princely
dwelling than this superb mansion, with its splendid porticos
and rich marble columns; its Italian arcades and immense
garden, peopled with magnificent trees and exquisite statues.
The interior vied with the outside in taste and magnificence.
Gonzagues must have had strong reasons for wishing to destroy
all this.
The regent, after supper, had granted to the Prince of
Carignan the right of turning his mansion into an immense
exchange, with the power of annulling the transfer of any
shares elsewhere. Gonzagues was jealous; to console him,
the regent, after another supper, granted him the monopoly
of the exchange of goods for shares; an astounding gift, worth
heaps of gold. Space was needed for this traffic, which was
to be dearly paid for; therefore an army of demolishers was
set to work. Statues and trees took room and paid no rent—
they were, therefore, to be removed and cut down.
To those who were astounded at, or ridiculed these altera-
tions, Gonzagues answered—' In five years I shall have two
or three millions, and can buy the Tuilleries from his Majesty
Louis XV., who by that time will be ruined.'
On this morning the work of devastation had been nearly
completed; a triple row of wooden cages had been erected
round the courtyard; the vestibules had been turned into
offices, and the court was already filled with buyers and sellers,
for it was the day for opening the traffic of what was already
called the Golden House.
The entrance to the mansion was almost public, for the
servants knew not whom to refuse. On the principal steps,
surrounded by a crowd of the chief merchants, stood a gen-
tleman clothed in velvet, silk, and lace, and dazzling with
jewellery. This was Peyrolles, confidant, counsellor, factotum
of the lord of the mansion. He did not look much older; he
»w-eyed, yet he had his flatterers,
Towards nine o'clock, when the calls of hunger had some-
what thinned the crowds, two men, who did not look exactly
like financiers, entered the great gate. They carried swords,
TWO GHOSTS. 37
those long swords 'which make one smell the bully three
miles off. But bullies were out of fashion now, the regent
discouraged them; so the great were contented to kill each
other by knavery.
Our two swordsmen mingled in the crowd—the one elbow-
ing his way, the other creeping along stealthily like a cat.
The first wore a Spanish hat pulled over his eyes, a buff coat
ragged at the elbows, and trowsers of which it would be diffi-
cult to divine the primitive colour; he came from Madrid.
The other, humble and timid, had a hat without a brim,
shaped like an extinguisher, an old doublet, leggings mended
in all parts, and large slouching boots; his sword, as humble
as himself, knocked against his heels.
Both having traversed the court, found themselves together
at the vestibule opposite. Each eyed the other with a sneer,
and thought—4 This fellow does not look as if he could buy
the Golden House!'
CHAPTEE II.
two ghosts.
They were both right.
4 What a miserable-looking fellow!' said one, aside. 4 The
poor wretch is evidently on his last legs.'
4 It is pitiable to see a swordsman in such a state. I at
least keep up appearances,' muttered the other to himself,
with a self-satisfied air.
4 At all events, I don't excite pity,' added the first.
An insolent-looking footman came forward. Both our
friends thought, 4 That unlucky fellow wont get in.'
4 What do you want?' said the footman.
41 come to buy you up, fool!' said the first, glancing at his
own sword.
4 Buy what ?' inquired the servant.
4 What I choose, knave ! I am a friend of your master,
with plenty of money.' He took the man by the ear, turned
him round, and entered.
The man made a pirouette, and faced round to the other,
who took off his extinguisher with great politeness.
4 My friend, I am a friend of the prince. I come on busi-
ness—financial business.'
The footman let him pass.
The first had entered a splendid saloon, and, looking around
disdainfully, said, 4 Not bad.'
The other echoed,4 The prince is well lodged here.'
38
THE- J>UKEg~5TUTT(}.
The two again met at the end of the room, and both laughed
derisively at the other being admitted,
' Perhaps,' thought one, ' this knave may have killed some
revenue officer, and have his pockets full. I'll get into con-
versation with him.'
'Who knows ?' reflected the other—'this fellow may have
done a stroke of work last night, and have lined that greasy
doublet with crowns. I should like to make his acquaintance.'
' Sir!' cried the first, with a stiff salute.
' Sir!' cried the other, bowing to the ground.
The sound of each voice struck the other.
The Breton accent, the Norman twang, betrayed the two
men to each other.
' By Jove !' cried one, ' it must be that knave Passepoil!'
'Cocardasse, junior,' cried the Norman, with tears in his
eyes.
' Flesh and bones, my dear fellow!' cried the Breton, with
a fierce embrace.
'After nineteen years!' blubbered Passepoil.
'Ah! nineteen years,' rejoined Cocardasse. 'We were
both young, then.'
' The time of love,' sighed Passepoil. ' But my heart has
not become cold.'
' And I love a tankard as well as ever.'
'Frankly, Master Cocardasse,' said Passepoil, 'years have
not improved you.'
'And they have made you uglier than ever, my old Passe-
poil,' rejoined Cocardasse.
Brother Passepoil, with a proud smile, murmured,' That is
not the ladies' opinion.'
' What the devil became of you, my fine fellow, after ?'
' That affair in the trenches of Caylus P' whispered Passe-
poil. ' Don't speak of it. I have always before my eyes the
fierce looks of our Little Parisian.'
' Ah! though it was dark, how his eyes glared! How he
fought!'
'Eightkilled in the trench, without counting the wounded!'
' Ah ! that was a sight! And when I think, if we had only
stood out like men, thrown the gold at Peyrolles' head, and
took part with our Little Parisian, Nevers would not have
been killed, and we should have made our fortune.'
'Ah!' cried Passepoil, with a sigh, 'that's what we ought
to have done.'
' What's done can't be undone,' rejoined Cocardasse. ' I
don't know how it may have fared with you, but it brought
me no luck. When Lagardere's knaves charged us with
their carbines, I made my way into the castle; but yog had
TWO GHOSTS.
39
disappeared. Instead of keeping his promise, that fellow
Peyrolles dismissed us the next morning. We left—I passed
the frontier, seeking you on my way. I went to Pampeluna,
thence to Madrid, Toledo, Castille—always, somehow, got
the police at my heels. Went to Venice—thunder and light-
ning! they sell good wine there !—I made my way to Tarra-
gona, Barcelona, where I found nothing hut empty purses
and long swords. Well, I repassed the Pyrenees—not a
maravedi left to bless myself with!' And he turned his
pocket inside out. ' And you, friend ?'
'I,' said the Norman, 'took refuge at Bagneres, and had a
mind to visit Spain, too, only a monk took me into his service.
He was gffing to Kehl, on the Bhine, to claim some property.
I relieved him of his trunk and—his money. I went to
Germany. Ah! what a country! You talk of Spanish
swords—they fight there with tankards! The wife of an inn-
keeper relieved me of the monk's ducats; she was charming,
and fell in love with me. Ah ! my dear fellow, what a thing
it is to be such a favourite with the fair sex J Ah! if it had
not been for them, I might have bought a country-house,
a garden, a meadow, and a mill. The tender passion is the
torment of one's life, and hinders a fellow from putting by
his superfluous cash. Well, I went to Frankfort, Vienna,
Berlin, and then I turned homesick, as well as you; and here
I am.'
'France—no place like France!' cried Cocardasse.
' N oble country—mother of loves !' returned the other.
' And a glorious country for wine!'
'Was it only poverty that brought you back?' asked
Passepoil.
' And was it the love of home alone that made you return ?'
rejoined his friend.
' One night, at the corner of a street in Barcelona, I met—
you know who.'
' I guess,' answered Passepoil. ' The same reason made
me quit Brussels. Have you heard,' he continued, timidly,
' the sad fate of our comrades in the trenches of Caylus ?'
' I have,' returned Cocardasse. ' Staupitz died under the
walls of his own manor at Nuremburg j Loraine at Naples—
both wounded in the forehead.'
' And Pinto had settled at Turin; Matador had opened a
school of arms in Scotland. One died at Turin, the other at
Glasgow, by the sword.'
'Ah! Nevers'thrust again—that dreadful thrust!' And
they were both silent.
After a time, Cocardasse said—'Faenza and Saldagne still
remain. Gonzagues did a great deal for them. Faenza is
40
THE DtTKE'S MOTTO.
made a knight, Saldagne a baron. Their turn will come, and
then, a little later perhaps, ours.'
Passepoil sighed heavily.
4 And when,' continued his friend, ' he has brought me to
the ground with that thrust between the eyebrows, I shall
only say, 4 Your hand, old fellow—forgive old Cocardasse.''
4 And I,' said Passepoil, 4 shall ask his forgiveness, only a
little sooner.'
4 In the meantime, he is exiled from Prance; so that we
are sure not to find him in Paris.'
4 Sure !' repeated the Norman, only half convinced.
4 "Well, it is the most likely place to avoid him ; that is the
reason I am here.'
4 And I also, as well as to recall myself to the Duke of
Gonzague's recollection.'
4 Saldagne and Paenza will help us on, till we get made
noble like themselves. A brave pair of gallants we should
make!'
The Gascon laughed ; the Norman answered, seriously—
4 Pull dress becomes me very well.'
4 When I went to see Paenza, I was told he was not
visible.'
4 And when I called on Saldagne, a big fellow eyed me,
and said, 4 The baron does not see company.''
4 Oh,' said Cocardasse, 4 how I should like a big footman!'
4 And I a housekeeper!' added his friend.
4 Have you seen Peyrolles ? They say he is worth thou-
sands.'
'Well, I am not proud—I would become a financier, if
they like.'
4 Sad falling off; but if one could really make a fortune by
4 Have you heard of the Hunchback of Quincampoix ?'
4 What! he who lends his back to serve as a writing-desk
for the endorsers of shares ? They say he has gained by it
in two years twenty thousand pounds.'
'Not possible,' cried the Gascon, laughing.
4 It is a fact; and he is going to marry a countess.'
4 Twenty thousand for a hunch only!' exclaimed Coear-
dasse, surveying himself from head to foot. 41 wish I had
not such an elegant figure.'
4 Ah! my friend, we have lost our time sadly. But we
have arrived here at last at a lucky moment. Paris is a very
gold-mine. Coming here, I saw some brats playing at toss-
penny with crowns.'
4 Well, what price would a good thrust, effectually done,
fetch now ?'
the auction. 41
' Not so.loud—somebody is coming! My notion is, tbat it
will fetch a good price still. And that is what I hope to
learn this very hour from the Prince of Gonzagues himself.'
CHAPTEE III.
the auction.
The saloon where our Norman and Gascon talked so quietly
was situated in the centre of the principal building. The
windows, hung with heavy Flanders tapestry, looked on to a
narrow strip of grass, enclosed by trellis-work, which was
henceforth to be called the private garden of the princess.
Workmen had not yet invaded this apartment, which alone
retained its primitive state.
Its rich, massive furniture suited well the state-room of a
palace. It looked more like a council-chamber than a ball-
room; for opposite the immense black marble chimney-piece
was raised a platform, covered with a Turkey carpet. Here,
in truth, had been often assembled the most illustrious mem-
bers of the noble houses of Loraine, Joyeuse, Aumale,
Mayenne, Guise, Nevers, in the time when the barons de-
cided the fate of the kingdom. It could only have been
through the general confusion that reigned around that our
two bravos could have gained admittance to this chamber.
But once there, they were less likely to be disturbed than
elsewhere.
A large family council was to be held this very day, which
was the reason that the state-room had remained hitherto
untouched.
' One word more about Lagardere,' said Cocardasse; ' was
he alone when you saw him at Brussels ?'
'No,' answered Passepoil. 'And when you met him at
Barcelona?'
' He had a beautiful young girl with him, with a face like
an angel. And in Flanders ?'
' There, also, he had a young girl with him, who looked
more like a handsome gitana, but who was about the age the
child would have been.'
'Well, and the other the same. Oh, it's not all over, de-
pend upon it. Peyrolles and the Prince of Gonzagues wont
be forgotten—their time will come.'
' He who lives longest will see,' said Passepoil, with a sigh.
A servant in livery entered, followed by two workmen with
carpenter's foot-rules in their hands.
42
THE DUKE S MOTTO.
They were too busy to notice our friends, who hid them-
selves in an embrasure of the window.
'Make haste,' said the servant; 'four feet square every-
where.'
While one workman measured, the other marked each
division with a number in chalk. The first was 927.
' What the deuce are they doing that for ?' said the Gascon.
' Oh, don't you know ?' answered his friend; ' these lines
mark the partitions for offices, and the number shows that
there are nearly a thousand such already in the prince's
palace.'
' And what are these offices for?'
' To make gold in.'
Cocardasse stared, and Passepoil tried to explain to him the
magnificent grant that Philip of Orleans had made to his
bosom friend.
'What!' said the Gascon, 'each of those boxes worth a
farm of a thousand acres ? Oh, famous! Let us stick like
leeches to such a worthy patron.'
'Number 942,' said the footman.
'Bad measure,' answered the workman; 'only two feet
and a half.'
' That must go to a thin buyer,' observed Cocardasse to his
friend.
' You will send the carpenters directly the assembly is over,'
said the servant.
'What assembly ?' muttered Passepoil.
'We must try and learn,' replied Cocardasse. ' When one
gets to know what is going on in a family, half the work is
done.'
The servant and measurers had scarcely departed, when a
chorus of voices cried out—' For me!—for me! My name
is down—no favour shown!'
' Silence there ! silence !' cried an imperious voice at the
entrance.
' Peyrolles himself! Let us hide ourselves,' said our two
friends. They concealed themselves completely behind the
drapery.
Peyrolles entered, followed by an anxious crowd. The
prince's factotum was sumptuously dressed, and held in his
jewelled hand an embroidered handkerchief.
' Come, gentlemen, keep your distance—proper respect, if
you please,' he said, as he waved his cane with a haughty
air. ^
' Oh, the knave! Is he not superb?' whispered Cocardasse.
' I am first! it is my turn !' cried a voice.
' Gentlemen,' began Peyrolles. There was a dead silence.
THE AUCTION,
43
' Gentlemen, I have the honour to represent in person the
Prince of Gonzagues, and I see some hats on,'
All heads were uncovered instantly.
Our friends could not help admiring the factotum's cool
impudence.
'Now, what I have to tell you, gentlemen, is, that these
offices will all be finished and entered upon to-morrow.'
' Bravo!' cried all.
' This is the only room that remains. The best places are
here; every other part of the house is let, except the private
apartments of the prince and princess.'
He bowed.
The chorus began again—' My turn!—my turn!—my
name is down!—I'll hold my rights !—don't push so !'
' What! You ill-use a woman ? Shame! shame!'
Por, alas! there were women there ; the grandmothers of
those ladies of forbidding aspect who may still be seen haunt-
ing the exchange about two p.m. Oaths, shrill cries, were
heard on all sides. But amidst this tumult the large doors
' A man worth a million!' added his friend.
Gonzagues entered, accompanied by two young noblemen.
He was handsome still, though nearly fifty; his tall figure
was supple, as in youth; his forehead unwrinkled, and his
raven hair fell in heavy curls over his simple black velvet coat.
His luxury resembled not that of Peyrolles ; the lace on his
shirt and ruffles might have cost a ransom, and the diamond
collar round his neck a fortune, but it only slightly showed
itself under his white satin waistcoat.
The two young noblemen who accompanied him—Chaverny,
a rakish cousin of Nevers, and the young Navailles—both
wore powder and patches. Both handsome young fellows,
rather effeminate looking, who had even at this early hour
stimulated their gaiety by a cup of champagne, and who wore
their silks and velvets with easy effrontery.
Navailles was about five-and-twenty; Chaverny scarcely
twenty. Both stopped to look at the crowd, and laughed
heartily.
' Gentlemen ! gentlemen!' cried Peyrolles, uncovering; ' a
little respect for the prince.'
The crowd, ready to come to blows, was silenced as if by
magic, and saluted Gonzagues, who negligently returned the
salute, and passed on, saying only—' Make haste, Peyrolles!
I want this chamber.'
' Oh, the droll creatures 1' cried the little Chaverny, looking
through his glass.
44 THE-DUKE'S MOTTO.
4 Oli, the droll creatures!' echoed Navailles, with another
burst of laughter.
Peyrolles approached his master.
f They are red-hot; they will pay anything now.'_
4 Put the stalls up to auction; it will be so amusing,' cried
Chaverny.
4 Hush!' cried Gonzagues; 4 we are not at table, foolish boy.'
But the idea pleased him, and he added—4 Well, let it be
an auction. What price shall we begin with ?'
4 Ten pounds a month for four feet square,' answered Ha-
vailles, joking.
4 Fifteen pounds a week,' said Chaverny.
4 Say twenty pounds,' said Gonzagues ; 4 go on, Peyrolles!'
4 Gentlemen,' continued the latter to the crowd, 4 as these
are the last places and the best, they will be ceded to the
highest bidder. Number 927, twenty pounds.'
A low murmur, but no one bid.
4 In faith, cousin,' cried Chaverny, 41 will give you a lift.
Twenty-one!'
4 Twenty-two !' cried Navailles, not to be outdone.
4 Twenty-three!' cried a stifled voice from the crowd.
4 Gone !' cried Peyrolles, hastily.
Gonzagues gave him a fierce look.
Peyrolles was narrow-minded; he feared to touch the depth
of human folly.
4 Number 928,' he continued.
4 Thirty pounds !' said Gonzagues, negligently.
4 But it is just like the other,' objected a seller of second-
hand clothes, whose niece had just married a count, with
a dowry of twenty thousand gained in the street called
Quincampoix.
41 take it,' said an apothecary.
4 I'll give thirty-five !' cried a tinman.
4 Thirty-eight!—forty I—forty-five !—fifty !'
'Gone!' said Peyrolles. 4929, sixty pounds,' having con-
suited Gonzagues' face; 4 going for sixty pounds !'
'Four feet square!' muttered Passepoil, bewildered.
4 Two-thirds of a grave!' added Cocardasse.
The auction went on, the fever of bidding rose to its height.
Number 929 was contended for as if it had been a fortune;
and when Gonzagues put the following number at a hundred
pounds, no one was astonished.
One of Peyrolles' secretaries received the money, paid at
once in gold or bank-notes ; the other entered the names of
the purchasers.
Navailles and Chaverny no longer laughed; they were lost
in admiration.
THE AUCTION.
45
' "What incredible folly!' said the little Marquis of Chaverny.
' Incredible if one did not see it,' rejoined Navailles.
Gonzagues added, with a sneering laugh—' Ah ! France is
a splendid country. But enough of this. All the others at
two hundred!'
* It is dirt cheap !' cried Chaverny.
'Ibid for it!—Ibid!' cried twenty voices in the crowd.
Men fought; women fell down fainting; but still crying, 'I
bid! Ibid!'
Then arose criesr of anger and of joy; gold pieces rolled
down the steps of the platform which served as a counter.
It was astounding to see with what alacrity the pockets and
purses were emptied. Those who had got their receipts
brandished them above their heads in triumph. Peyrolles
and his functionaries were at their wits' end. And, by the
time the last places were put up, blood was sprinkled on the
floor. At last, Number 942, only two feet and a half square,
was knocked down for five hundred, and shutting his pocket-
book, Peyrolles called out—' Gentlemen, the auction is over.'
' Gentlemen,' cried the little marquis, gravely, ' this is not
selling, but giving.'
Gonzagues beckoned Peyrolles towards him.
' Clear the room,' he said.
But at this moment another crowd appeared at the doors.
A crowd of courtiers, revenue officers, and gentlemen, come
to pay their respects to the Prince of Gonzagues. They
stopped, finding the room crowded.
' Come in, gentlemen,' cried the prince; ' we are going to
send away all these people.'
' Come in,' added Chaverny; ' these good folks will sell you
their purchases at a hundred per cent.'
'They would be very stupid, then,' returned Navailles.
' Good morning, Oriol.'
Oriol was a young financier of much promise; Albert
and Taranne were the same. The Baron de Batz was an
honest German, who had come to Paris to ruin himself.
The Viscount La Fare, Montaubert, Nocc, and Gironne,
were all fashionable rakes, distant connexions of Nevers,
who had been invited by Gonzagues to assist at the family
council.
' And this sale?' asked Oriol.
' Not successful,' answered Gonzagues, coldly.
'You, prince, unskilful in business? Impossible!' cried
Oriol.
'Well, you shall judge; I have sold my last offices, one
with the other, at a hundred and fifty.'
' For a year ?'
46 the duke's motto.
' No, for a week.'
The new comers were confounded.
' Madness!'
' Yes ; a perfect frenzy !'
' Cousin,' interrupted Chaverny,' I'll let you my bed-room
for the daytime.'
' When it came to the last few, the fever rose to its height,'
continued Gonzagues; ' and now I have nothing left but my
dog's kennel.'
' Ob, cousin! give these gentlemen the pleasure of one
more lot.'
The group of courtiers burst out laughing, but the buyers
took the matter seriously.
' I'll lay a wager,' cried the prince, ' I will make these good
people buy my kennel at five hundred pounds !'
The laughing became vociferous.
' Five hundred!' cried all the bidders.
A strange figure suddenly presented itself between
Chaverny and Navailles, and a shrill, cracked voice cried
out—' I bid for the kennel!' It was the little hunchback.
CHAPTER IV.
the hunchback.
He must have been a clever hunchback, notwithstanding his
present folly. He had an intelligent eye, and a well-formed
forehead under his grotesque wig; and a mocking, malicious
smile played around his mouth. His hump was very large,
and his legs dreadfully crushed, though not so thin as is usual
with deformed people. He wore a suit of black, with
muslin shirt-front, and ruffles of remarkable whiteness.
All eyes were fixed upon him, which disturbed him not the
least.
'Bravo! bravo, Monsieur iEsop!' cried Chaverny. 'You
are a bold speculator.'
' Bold P we shall see!'
His sharp voice tingled like a child's rattle.
Everyone cried—' Bravo, vEsop!'
Cocardasse and Passepoil were no longer astonished at
anything.
' Have we ever known a hunchback P' whispered one.
' Not that I remember,' returned the other.
'Yet I could almost lay a wager of all I possess, that I
have seen those eyes somewhere,' said Cocardasse.
Gonzagues looked at the hunchbackwith fixed attention.
THE HUNCHBACK. 47
' Friend,' he said,' the money is required to be paid at once,
you know ?'
* I know,' replied JEsop. The hunchback was not offended
by this nickname, and hencefirth he had no other name.
Chaverny was his godfather.
iEsop took out his pocket-book, and paid Peyrolles; and
having waited for his receipt, bowed to the company, and re-
tired. Everyone made way for him, and though the laughing
continued, a shudder passed through the crowd.
Gonzagues looked serious.
Peyrolles and his assistants busied themselves in dispersing
the crowd of buyers.
' Gentlemen,' said Gonzagues, ' while this room is set in
order, I pray you to follow1 me into my private chamber.'
' Come,' said Cocardasse; ' now or never.'
'I am afraid,' murmured Passepoil.
' Then I will go first,' returned his companion.
He advanced towards Gonzagues, hat in hand, dragging
Passepoil after him.
' Famous!' cried Chaverny ; ' my cousin has given us sport
this morning! The hunchback was fine; but this is the most
splendid pair of ruffians I ever saw.'
Cocardasse gave him a fierce.look.
' Have they never seen two gentlemen, that they stare at us
so much ?' he muttered, indignantly.
' Be prudent,' whispered Passepoil.
' Gonzagues shuddered on perceiving them.
'What is your business ?' he inquired.
Cocardasse bowed low and gracefully; Passepoil more
humbly. Then Cocardasse, looking disdainfully at the richly-
dressed crowd around, said in a loud, clear voice—
'This gentleman and myself, old acquaintances of the
prince, have come to pay him our respects.'
' If the prince is busy at present, we will return at any time
he may be pleased to appoint,' added the fencing-master, with
another profound bow.
'Peyrolles!' cried Gonzagues, 'do you remember these
fellows ? Take them away, give them something to eat, and
a new suit of clothes each, and let them wait my orders.'
The two friends drew back, bowing repeatedly, even
sweeping the ground with their rusty hats. But when they
faced the laughing crowd, Cocardasse put on his hat, and
walked majestically behind Peyrolles, Passepoil following,
and imitating him as he best might.
The gentlemen who remained with Gonzagues—nobles who
were nearly ruined, financiers who had compromised their
honour—were all bound to him in various ways. The prince
48 THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
was their lord and king ; the sequel of this story will show to
what use he intended to put his influence over them.
Chaverny, too light-headed to speculate, too careless to sell
himself, was the only one who retained any degree of in-
dependence.
' One hears of the mines of Peru, but the prince's mansion
would buy them all,' said Oriol, a stout financier, with a red,
fat face. This Oriol was a great frequenter of the opera-
house ; he had admission behind the scenes, where the young
ladies of the ballet consented to make • game of him
good-naturedly, when he was in funds, and in a generous
humour.
'By Jove!' answered Taranne, a thin, insipid stockbroker,
' this is El Dorado !'
' The house of gold, or rather diamonds,' added Montaubert.
' Ya!' cried the Baron Batz; 'why, a noble lord might live
a year on one week of the prince's revenue.'
' Yes, because the Prince Gonzagues is king over great
lords,' said Oriol.
' Pray, cousin,' cried Chaverny, ' stop this enthusiasm, or it
will last till to-morrow-'
' Gentlemen,' began Gonzagues, without noticing the little
marquis, ' you know that I have requested your company to-
day, not only to be present at a family council, but also at a
solemn assembly, where the Prince Regent will be represented
by three members of the privy council.'
' What!' cried Chaverny, ' is the succession to the throne
to be decided ?'
' Marquis/ said the prince, drily, ' we are talking seriously.
Now is the time, gentlemen, to prove to me your devotion.'
' We are ready,' they all cried.
The prince bowed.
'I have summoned you, Navailles, Gironne, Chaverny,
Montaubert, Choissy, as relations of the late Duke ofNevers;
you, Oriol, as a man of business of our cousin of Chatillon;
you, Taranne and Albert, as proxies for the two Chatillons.'
' Oh! then, if it is not the Bourbon succession, it is that of
Nevers,' interrupted Chaverny. ' But what the deuce, cousin,
can you want with Nevers' property, when you are gaining a
hundred an hour ?'
Gonzagues paused a moment.
' Am I alone ?' he said. ' Have I not all your interests to
look after—your fortunes to make ?'
A murmur of gratitude arose.
' You know you may count upon me,' said Navailles.
'And upon me—upon me!' cried almost every member of
the assembly.
TIIE HUNCHBACK.
49
' Upon me, too, said Cliaverny; ' only I slionld like to
know '
' You are too curious, cousin,' answered the prince. ' Those
on my side must follow my steps, whether the road be good
or bad, straight or crooked. I alone am responsible.'
' We only ask our illustrious cousin to show us the way,'
said Navailles.
'What is to be my task?' cried Cliaverny, with much
humility.
' Give me your vote, and be silent,' -answered Gonzagues.
' We will rally round you,' said Oriol, pompously.
' The prince never forgets his friends,' added Taranne.
Chaverny gave a mocking laugh.
' I like Taranne's devotion best,' said Gonzagues ; ' my dear
fellow, you shall have the farm of Epernay.'
'Oh, prince!' cried the financier.
'No thanks,' said Gonzagues. 'Gentlemen,' he continued,
' I have been to-day to the king's lev6e.'
'What can make you get up so_early, cousin?' yawned
Chaverny.
'Ungrateful boy, is it for myself? Gentlemen, the king is
a charming child; he knows all your names, and always asks
after my good friends. The regent was at his bedside, and
after giving him his hand, the young king turned to me, and
said, ' Good morning, prince; I saw you and all your com-
pany yesterday. You must really cede me Monsieur Gironne,
lie is such a rider; and Noce, iflso—how well he looked! and
the Count Saldagne—what a general he would make ?''
' Thrown away,' whispered Chaverny; ' Saldagne is not
here.'
' His majesty spoke to me of you, Montaubert: you,
Choissy, and of the others also.'
'And did his majesty deign to notice the gallant, noble
presence of Peyrolles ?' asked Chaverny.
' The king forgot no one but you,' said Gonzagues, drily.
'Your business about the mines, Albert, is known at court:
' And your friend, Oriol,' said the king: ' do you know, they
tell me he is richer than I am.''
All applauded.
' But these are only words,' continued Gonzagues, with a
subtle smile. ' Albert, your commission is signed ; you,
Oriol, have your patent of nobility.'
' Oh, Oriol!' cried Chaverny, ' now you are cousin to the
king—you, who are related to the whole street St. Denis.
Your arms shall be three bars of gule on a blue ground; your
crest a nightcap, with the device,' Useful and sweet.''
All laughed a little but Oriol and Gonzagues. Oriol was
50
the duke s motto.
born in a batter's shop in tbe street St. Denis. Had Chaverny
kept bis witticism till after dinner, it would bave been more
successful.
'You are to bave your pension, Navailles,' continued Gon-
zagues, 'and you your brevet, IVlontaubert; Noce, you bave
your appointment. I will tell you, Gironne, when w.e are
alone, what you are to bave.'
All rejoiced, especially Gironne. No one was forgotten.
' Come bere, marquis,' said Gonzagues.
' Ob, cousin, I know my fate! all the good boys bave got
prizes, and I am to be put on bread-and-water,' said Cbaverny,
dolorously.
' Fleury, tbe king's preceptor, was at tbe levee, and bad
beard of your tricks at Feulfantes.'
' Alas!' cried Navailles.
' Alas!' repeated tbe chorus.
' And you prevented my being exiled, cousin ?' said Cba-
verny.
' It was not a question of exile, but of tbe Bastile!' replied
tbe duke, sternly.
' And you saved me from that!—a thousand thanks !'
' I did more, cousin !'
' More still!—must I thank you on my knees ?'
' Your-estate of Cbancilles, which was confiscated under
tbe late king, is restored to you.'
'Ob! then I am yours, heart and soul!' cried Cbaverny,
holding out bis band. ' If evil times come, cousin, and others
leave you, depend upon it, I will not!'
CHAPTEE Y.
the woke oe the avexgeb.
The absence ofFaenza and Saldagne is easily explained. Tbe
prizes being distributed, Noce thought of bis dress for riding
-to-morrow with tbe king ; Oriol tried already to grub up some
ancestors in tbe time of St. Louis. Gonzagues, truly, bad
not lost bis time at tbe king's levee. All were satisfied, ex-
cept tbe little marquis.
' Cousin,' be said, ' Bois-Eose has persisted in refusing me
a ticket for this evening's fete at tbe Palais Eoyal. He says
they are all given.'
'No doubt!' said Oriol; 'they were at ten guineas pre-
mium this morning. Bois-Eose must bave made nearly sis
thousand pounds, half of which goes to tbe good Abbe Du-
bois.'
THE "WOKE OP THE AVENGER.
51
4 I saw one ticket sold for fifty guineas,' added Albert.
41 could not get one for sixty,' said Taranne; 4 by this time
they are invaluable.'
4 The fete will be splendid!' said Gonzagues; 4 a true brevet
of rank and fortune to all happy enough to be there. The
regent, no doubt, had little idea of selling his invitations; but
speculation is the besetting sin of our time, and i don't see
why Bois-Ros6 and the Abbe should not make a little profit
out of these trifles.'
4 How full the saloons of the regent will be to-night of
courtiers and merchants.'
4 Only the nobility of to-morrow,' added Gonzagues, care-
Chaverny touched Oriol's shoulder.
4 You, who are noble to-day, wont you look down on these
nobles of to-morrow ?'
One word of this fete, which had been set on foot by the
Scotchman Law, who was to bear its enormous expenses, and
who had persuaded the Duke of Orleans to lend him the state
rooms and gardens of the Palais Royal. Law had plaeed in-
credible sums in the regent's hands to defray the expenses.
The eyes of the guests were to be dazzled by an unheard-of
magnificence and display, and most especially by a wondrous
ballet and fireworks. The fireworks were to represent the
gigantic palace projected by Law, to be built on the banks of
the Mississippi. The ballet was to represent in allegory, ac-
cording to the taste of the age, Credit, as the guardian angel
of France,, placing her above all nations. Ho more famines,
nor misery, nor wars. Credit was to restore to the whole
world the delights of a reconquered Paradise.
The regent had fixed the number of guests at three.thou-
sand; Dubois had added a third more, Bois-Rose had slily
doubled it.
4 Peyrolles tells me he was offered three thousand pounds
for this packet,' continued Gonzagues; 4 but I kept them for
my friends.'
He took from his pocket-book a parcel of rose-coloured
tickets, embellished with lovely vignettes, and threw them on
the table. Many of these gentlemen had similar ones in their
pockets, still all took some for themselves and friends, except
Chaverny. Oriol must have had many friends, he took so
many.
Gonzagues looked on amused.
4 Pray, gentlemen,' he said, 'be kind enough to leave two
for Faenza and Saldagne. I am surprised not to see them
here. I am happy, friends, to have been able to procure you
this little nratification, and what I reauire from you is, that
4—2
52
TIIE DUKE'S MOTTO.
■wherever I go, you follow and rally round me like a battalion.
Your interest it is to follow me—mine to keep your heads
always above the crowd. If strange events come to pass,
never seek to unravel them, or to learn the reasons of ray
conduct. Blind obedience I exact from you ; and I give you
my word of honour it shall make your fortunes !'
'We will follow you,' cried Navailles.
' To the death!' added Gironne.
' Even to the infernal regions I' cried Oriol, gallantly.
A cry of admiration arose in the assembly. A beautiful
young girl, with a joyous, playful smile on her face, appeared
at the entrance of Gonzagues' chamber; she, no doubt, had
not expected to see so large a company. She hastily let down
her veil.
Gonzagues looked for a moment annoyed ; but he recovered
himself directly, and, going up to the beautiful unknown, took
her hand and kissed it with respect.
' It is the lovely recluse,' muttered Chaverny, his eyes still
upon her.
' The Spanish beauty, whom the prince hides in his villa
behind the church Magloire,' added Navailles.
' Gentlemen,' said the prince, ' I was going to-day to in-
troduee this dear child to you, for she is dear to me on more
accounts than one; but I cannot have that pleasure yet.
Await me here ; I shall want you soon.'
lie took the young girl's hand, and retired into the inner
apartment; and his bearded scholars took a holiday.
' How lovely she is!' cried Chaverny.
'An idea has just come into my head,' said Oriol; 'per-
haps this family council is about a divorce?'
All agreed it might be possible, for all knew the complete
disunion that existed between Gonzagues and his wife.
' Oh! the wily prince,' continued Taranne, ' is capable of
throwing off the wife, and keeping her fortune. It may be
for that he wants our votes.'
' But who knows anything of the young lady ?' asked
Gironne.
' Oh, nothing is known about her, except that Peyrolles,
who never tells anything, is the slave chosen to obey her
caprices; and that for the last fortnight the prince's villa has
been strictly guarded by Faenza and Saldagne.'
'Oh! a mystery! "Well, we must have patience; we
shall know all to-dav.'
' Hallo, Chaverny !'
The little marquis awoke up, as if out of a dream.
' What, Chaverny, you silent! you musing! Speak to us.
if only to tell us that you have fallen head over ears in love.'
THE WORK OF THE AVENGER.
53
'Gentlemen,' answered Chaverny, 'you risk your souls
many times a day for a few trumpery bank-notes. I would
risk mine once and for ever for that lovely face !'
When Peyrolles had installed Cocardasse and Passepoil
before an ample repast, he went out, and passing behind the
church Magloire, entered with a private key a garden with an
avenue of splendid elms. At the end of the avenue was a
beautiful pavilion in the Greek style, with its peristyle sur-
rounded by statues. It was a perfect gem of art. In the
vestibule were several servants.
' Where is the Baron Saldagne ?' asked Peyrolles.
' We have not seen the baron since yesterday.'
' And Count Faenza ?'
' The count has been away also.'
' What can be the reason ?' thought Peyrolles; but he only
asked the servants if their lady was visible. A lacquey soon
brought him word that the lady was ready to receive him in
her boudoir, and Peyrolles was ushered in.
' I have not slept a moment all last night,' she cried, the
moment she saw him. 'I wont stop another night in the
house ; the street by the side of the wall is a place for cut-
throats.'
It was the same beautiful young girl who had appeared
like an apparition in the mansion of the Prince Gonzagues,
and who looked still more charming in her morning dress.
Her raven tresses fell in rich luxuriance round her slender
though rounded figure; her little feet were cased in satin
slippers.
' Donna Cruz,' said Peyrolles, ' the prince desires to see you
to-day at his palace.'
'Wonderful!' cried the young girl. 'What! am I to
leave my prison ? Am I to go out ? Are you quite sure you
are not dreaming, Master Peyrolles?' She stared at him, and
then joyfully made a double pirouette.
' And the prince wishes you to go in full dress,' added the
impassible intendant.
' What! I to be in full dress! I don't believe a word you
say.'
'I am, nevertheless, quite in earnest; and you must be
ready in an hour. I am to conduct you there.'
'Madame Langlois! Angelique! Justine! How long
these Frenchwomen are coming !' she cried, impatiently.
Three Parisian lady's-maids entered.
' These two men shall not stay another night in the house;
thejr frighten me so,' said Donna Cruz.
' It is the prince's orders,' answered the phlegmatic Pey-
rolles.
54 THE DUKE'S-HOTTO.
' Am I a slave ?' cried tlie petulant girl. ' Did I wisli to
come here ? If I am a prisoner, I at least might he allowed
to choose my gaolers. "Without you promise me that those
men' (she meant Faenza and Saldagne) ' shall not return, I
wont go to the palace.'
Madame Langlois drew near to Peyrolles, and whispered a
few words. The intendant's pale face became livid with
fear.
' Have you seen ?'
' Yes; they have just been found.'
' Where ?'
c Outside the gate.'
' I don't choose to have whispering in my presence,' said
Donna Cruz, haughtily.
' Pardon, lady,' said Peyrolles, humbly; ' let it suffice you
to learn that you will not see those who displease you again.'
'Well, then, you may dress me,' said the young lady, who
gave herself up entirely to the delights of the toilet. Never
had she felt so joyous since her arrival in this great city, of
which she had only yet seen the dark narrow streets in a
gloomy autumnal evening.
'At last!' she cried, 'I shall see and be seen,and no longer
be cooped up in this pavilion, wTith its high-walled melan-
choly garden.' And, quite joyful, she escaped from the hands
of her attendants, and danced round the room like a child.
Peyrolles had gone to the end of the garden. There, under
the dark foliage upon a heap of dead leaves, lay two human
figures covered with their cloaks.
Peyrolles raised with a trembling hand first one cloak, then
the other. Tinder one lay Faenza, under the other Saldagne.
Both had a mortal wound between the eyes. Peyrolles' teeth
chattered. He let the cloaks fall.
CHAPTEB VI.
DONNA CEUZ.
There is a strange story current among novelists, which
may have been founded on fact, of a princess brought up by
gipsies; but whether our beautiful Donna Cruz was of noble
parentage or only a gipsy child, we will not decide; but cer-
tain it is she had passed her life among them, wandering
through towns and villages, and dancing in the market-places
for a maravedi. She will tell us in due time how she came to
leave her wild, free life, to take up her abode in the prince's
villa.
DOXNA CRUZ.
55
Half an hour after her toilet had been completed, we meet
her in Gonzagues' chamber, confused, notwithstanding her
boldness, at the eyes fixed upon her in the state chamber.
'Why did not Peyrolles accompany you?' asked Gon-
zagues.
' Oh! Peyrolles has taken leave of his senses. "While I
was dressing he took a turn in the garden, and came back
thunderstruck. But you did not bring me here to talk about
Peyrolles : is it so, prince ?' she said, caressingly.
' Ho !' answered Gonzagues, laughing. He looked at her
attentively; ' I have sought a long timeT* he thought, ' but
could I find a better ? She is really like her. It is no delu-
sion on my part.'
' Well!' said Donna Cruz, impatiently, ' shall I have to go
back to my prison?'
' Hot for long, dear child.'
'Ah!' said the young girl, sadly, 'must I go back? To-
day I have for the first time just seen a corner of the town in
the sunshine. How fine it is! My solitude will seem more
dismal now I have had a glimpse of this beautiful city.'
'We are not at Madrid,'objected Gonzagues: 'we must
be cautious.'
' But why ? what harm have I done ? Oh, I was so happy
at Madrid ! when I danced on the Plaza Santa all the people
crowded round and applauded me. Oh! I see in my dreams
those splendid orange-trees that scented the evening air. I
have lent my mandoline to many a Spanish noble. Oh!' she
continued, with tears in her eyes, ' that beautiful land of per-
fumes and serenades ! The shade of these trees is so dark
and cold, it makes one shudder. Do you remember the night
when I first saw you, and you said,' You are too handsome
to dance thus in the streets, come with me ;' and I followed
you willingly, for you looked and spoke so kindly, and the
next day you took me away from Madrid? Such a long,
tedious journey—alone in a carriage with the blinds down—
I longed already to be dancing again; but you told me how
happy I should be in Paris. And now I am so dull in that
house, all alone. I, who so love dancing, singing^ laughing;
I, who cannot live without sunshine, gaiety. Prince, I will
go back to Spain;' and she wept.
' Dear girl,' said Gonzagues, soothingly, and with a father's
caress,' does Peyrolles annoy you?'
' Oh! he treats me with all respect and attention. Still, I
am his prisoner.'
' Oh ! you mistake, Donna Cruz.'
' Ho, indeed! What cares the captive bird whether its cage
is gilded ? I am so unhappy here. I desire to be set free.'
56
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
Gonzagues only smiled.
' Why hide me from all eyes ? You are not in love with
me, therefore you cannot be jealous. Once I thought—when
you told me you were not married, and you gave me so many
masters to teach me all those accomplishments that French
ladies know—I thought perhaps you had fallen in love with
me, and wanted to make me your wife ; and I worked so hard,
I learnt so fast, with the hope of making myself more worthy.
But, prince, if you do not love me, why keep me here?'
' I wish to make you happy, •dear child.'
' Give me my freedom, then; I only ask for that! And
this Paris that you promised me; of what use are ray tine
dresses if I am mewed up in a cage ? Show me the opera,
take me to fetes, dances, and to all the grand places in this
splendid city, and I shall be as happy as the day is long!' and
she laughed.
' This evening,' answered Gonzagues, ' you shall put on
your richest apparel, and I will take you to the regent's ball.'
' Is that true ?' she said, in doubt.
' On my honour I will,' replied the prince.
'Oh, thanks! thanks!' she cried, enchanted; 'howkind
you are !' and she kissed the duke's hand, and then danced
about the room. ' How shall I dress ?'
' In court balls,' said Gonzagues, seriously, ' to adorn a
beautiful face, one thing is needed more even than dress.'
' What is that?' cried Donna Cruz, impatiently, ' and will
you give it me ?'
' It is a name; and fortunately, dear child, I can give yon
one. Your name is one of the most illustrious in France.
Your father was a duke.'
' Then he is dead ?'
Gonzagues bent his head.
' And my mother ?'
' Your mother is a princess.'
' Oh ! my mother lives, then! Pray tell me of my mother,'
cried the girl, with emotion.
Gonzagues put his finger on his lips. ' Hot yet,' he said.
The girl seized his hands. ' You shall talk to me of my
mother,' she cried, resolutely, ' you must tell me ! I know
she is good, she is beautiful. Yes, yes, I always dreamed I
was the daughter of a princess.'
Gonzagues smiled.
' Oh, I have seen my mother in my dreams! She had
beautiful black hair, and such a sweet smile, and a pearl neck-
lace, and diamond earrings. What is her name ?'
' I cannot tell it you yet, Donna Cruz.'
' Why not ?'
gonzagues.
57
'Because there is danger.'
' Oh, you need not fear,' she said, proudly, ' I would have
kept the secret.'
' I do not doubt it, dear child. But you will not have to
wait long. In a few hours I hope to make known your
mother; now, I can only tell you that your name is not
Donna Cruz.'
' Then my real name is Flora ?'
' No; you received in your cradle your mother's name,
which is Aurora.'
' Aurora!' she cried; ' how very strange!'
' How so ?'
' Because it is not a common name, and reminds me of '
' Of what ?' asked the duke, axiously.
' Of poor little Aurora. How good—how pretty she "was !
How I loved her!'
'You have known a young girl named Aurora, perhaps ?'
said Gonzagues, with affected, indifference.
'Yes.'
' How old was she ?'
' Her age was the same as mine; we were children toge-
ther. We loved each other so much, though she was well
off, and I was poor.'
' How long ago did all this occur?'
' Some years,' answered Donna Cruz. ' But you are inte-
rested, prince ?'
Gonzagues was seldom taken unawares. He took Donna
Cruz's hand, and answered, kindly, ' I am interested in every-
thing you love, my child. Tell me about this little Aurora.'
CHAPTER VII.
gonzagues.
Gonzagues was a man of letters, well versed in the literature
of Athens and of Borne, a subtle theologian when he chose,
and a deep philosopher. Had he been a man of honour,
nothing within human compass would have been too great for
him. But he was wanting in rectitude; and without that
anchor of the soul, his superior abilities only made him
deviate still more from the right path. Gonzagues was hand-
some, well-born, rich, brave, eloquent; his diplomatic talents
were highly appreciated at Court and in the world, and every
one recognised the charm of his manners and conversation.
But he knew no other law than his o wn will; and already the
demon of the Past tyrannized over the Present. To conceal
his former crimes, he was drawn into new ones. Nothing
58
THE JTJ KE S" HOTTO.
stopped him. After five-and-twenty years liis vigour was
unabated. He was great in evil, as he might have been in good.
He had chosen Donna Cruz as an instrument that he might
easily fashion to his will. After deep research he had fixed
upon her, because she was without family or friends, was of
the right age, and also possessed a style of beauty sufficiently
resembling the family type for strangers to find in it a family
likeness.
Hearing Donna Cruz speak of a young girl named Aurora,
had moved the duke so strangely, that, stoic as he was, he
could not hide his emotion from her; and taking advantage of
a noise that arose from the garden, he went to the window to
calm himself. The window looked on to the princess's apart-
ments, where the windows were all closed and the curtains
drawn. Gonzagues thought he recognised in the crowd the
little Hunchback, holding a prayer-book in his hand. One of
the princess's ladies came to him; he gave her the book,
spoke a few words, and retired, while she re-entered the apart-
ments of the princess.
Gonzagues returned to Donna Cruz.
' What were we talking about, dear child ?' he asked, care-
lessly.
'What! have you forgotten so soonP' she answered, ma-
lieiously.
' It was about a young girl whom you loved, called Aurora.'
' A beautiful young girl—an orphan like myself.'
'Indeed!' and you knew her at Madrid?'
' Yes! but she was French.'
'And who took care of her?'
'An old woman.'
' And who recompensed this old woman for her trouble ?
' A French gentleman.'
' Young or old P'
'Young and handsome. But why do you talk of these
things, prince ? You know neither the young girl nor the
gentleman. What makes you so curious ?'
' I am not curious, my child,' answered the duke ; 'hut I
have good reasons for my questions. What was the gentle-
man's name P'
' I have forgotten.'
' Try and remember P'
' It is useless ; I cannot remember," said Donna Cruz, re-
solutely.
'I am sorry,' said Gonzagues; 'for a French gentleman
living in Spain is probably an exile. Unfortunately, there are
many such. You have no companion of your own age, and
this young girl is your friend. I have credit at Court; I
GONZAGUES.
might obtain the gentleman's pardon; he would bring the
young girl back to France, and my dear child would no longer
be alone.'
There was such an accent of truth with these wor'ds, that
Donna Cruz was deeply moved.
' Oh! how good you are!' she cried. 'I should like it of
all things; but there is no need to have the gentleman's name,
nor to write to Spain, for I have seen my friend in this city.'
'When?'
'Oh! the day I came to Paris. I was disputing with
Master Peyrolles, who would keep the carriage blinds down,
and prevented me from seeing the Palais Eoyal. At the
corner of a court, where the carriage nearly touched the
houses, I heard singing, and recognised the voice. I broke
my fan over Master Peyrolles' head, and succeeded in lifting
the curtain. I saw my little Aurora sitting at a lower window;
I screamed, and wanted to get out of the carriage; I
struggled witjh Peyrolles, but '
' And the street was near the Palais Eoyal,' interrupted
Gonzagues.
' Oh! I asked the name ; it is called the Eue de Chantre;
but what are you writing there ?'
' Only what is necessary to be written, in order that you
may see your friend again,' answered the duke; ' and now,
my dear child, I must leave you for awhile. In half an hour,
at the furthest, you shall see your mother.'
' What can I say ?' cried Donna Cruz, with emotion.
Gonzagues raised a curtain, behind which was a boudoir.
'Enter there,' he said.
'Yes,' murmured the young girl, ' and I will pray for my
mother!'
Gonzagues remained alone, wrapped in thought. ' Is she
alone, or has he had the audacity to follow her ?' he mur-
mured. ' We must learn this at once.'
He rang, then called Peyrolles, but there was no answer.
The duke hastily entered the adjoining library, where
Peyrolles usually awaited his master's orders. He found a
note containing .these words—
' I have much to tell you. Strange things have happened
at the pavilion. The Cardinal Bissy is with the princess. I
am on the watch.'
' They will all tell her,' meditated the duke, ' that she must
attend the council in her own interests, or that of her child,
if that child lives. She will' refuse; she will not come-
then she dies! How proud she was—how superbly beautiful!
as gentle as an angel, yet with the firmness of a warrior.
The only woman I could have loved, if I could but have loved
one.'
60
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
A sneer passed over liis face.
' Well, every one for himself,' he cried. 'Is it my fault if,
to gain a certain height, I must tread upon heads and hearts ?
And this little girl, with her head full of jewels and fates—
how easy to make her believe her mother was a princess—a
little gipsy girl! If her true mother, some honest peasant
woman, were to come forward, the chit would not own her.
Well, it is all a play.'
Philip do Gonzagues poured out a glass of wine, and drank
it, then seated himself before his papers.
' Come, Philip—now, or never! Let us throw a veil over
the past. The treasures of Law's bank, like the golden
sequins in the " Thousand and One Nights," may turn into
dry leaves, but the immense domains of Nevers—those are
solid worth."
He' paused for a moment, and put his notes in order.
' It is of no use deceiving oneself: the vengeance of the
[Regent would be implacable, should he ever discover the
assassin of Philip of Nevers. He is fickle, forgetful; but he
remembers Nevers, whom he loved like a brother. Tears
came into his eyes when he saw my wife, Philip's widow, in
weeds. But what have I to fear? Nineteen years have
passed, and not a voice has been raised against me!' He drew
his handover his forehead, as if to chase away some harassing
thought. ' Well, I shall find the murderer; and when he is
punished, it will be all over, and I shall rest in peace. I would
give anything to know whether the mother has the register of
the birth, or if it exists; if so, it shall be mine. I don't
believe in the infallibility of a mother's instincts. If the
princess should open her arms to this little gipsy ? That would
be a victory indeed! Petes, rejoicings, welcomes to the
heiress of Nevers. Then, some time afterwards, the beautiful
young princess might die, as so many young girls do. Great
grief, general mourning, an archbishop to bury her. In that
case, the young princess would leave me heir to enormous
wealth, and I should have well gained it.'
Two o'clock struck on the great clock of Magloire. It was
the hour fixed for opening the family councih
CHAPTER VIII.
nevers' widow.
Aurora de Caylus, widow of the Duke of Nevers, wife of
the Prince Gonzagues, was seated in an apartment which, in
its gravity, more resembled a chapel than a lady's sitting-
room. Its arched roof had medallions painted in the severe
NEVERS3 WIDOW.
61
style of Leseur; the tapestries that covered the walls repre-
sented subjects of scripture, and between the windows was an
altar hung in black, as if the last service celebrated there had
been for the dead. Opposite the altar was a full-length
portrait of Philip of Nevers, around the frame of which was a
drapery of crape.
The Princess of Gonzagues was herself dressed in deep
mourning. She had yielded to force alone in marrying the
prince, of whom she knew nothing; for, during the eighteen
year3 that she had been his wife, she had steadfastly refused
to see or listen to him.
Gonzagues had used every means to obtain an interview,
but in vain. He had loved her—perhaps he loved her still,
after his fashion. Gonzagues thought so highly of his own
eloquence, his powers of persuasion, that he believed, if she
would only listen to him, she would have yielded to his
tenderness. Put she was inflexible, and would not be con-
soled.
The princess had no friend, no counsellor; she stood alone
in her proud sorrow. The memory of Nevers, and the pas-
sionate love of the child which she had scarcely known, were
the only companions of her desolate solitude. Maternal love
was the only feeling that still bound her to earth.
This morning many persons had called to pay their respects
to the princess—noble relations, who had been convened to
the grand family council that was to take place to-day. One
only had been admitted to the presence of the princess—this
was the Cardinal Bissy, who came on the part of the Duke of
Orleans, to assure his dear cousin that the memory of Nevers
was still dear to the regent, and that he would do everything
he could for his widow.
To the cardinal the princess maintained' the same reserve
and coldness that was habitual to her; and, after all his en-
deavours to excite her confidence, he quitted her with the
feeling that her husband's conduct had been lenient, and even
meritorious.
After the cardinal's departure, Madeleine Giraud, the first
lady's-maid of the princess — a widow, like herself, whose
gentleness and devotion had excited some slight interest in
her mistress, came forward and placed a prayer-book, which
she had concealed under her mantle, on the easy-chair near
the princess, and then stood beside her.
'Whence come you, Madeleine?'
' Prom my room.'
The princess, while saluting the cardinal, had seen Made-
leine among the crowd in the garden. This was sufficient to
awaken her suspicion.
G2
THE DUKE S MOTTO.
Madeleine had something to say to her mistress, and lacked
courage to speak it. She was tender-hearted, and felt sincere
and respectful pity for this profound sorrow.
* Will the princess permit me to say a few words to her?'
Her mistress smiled bitterly.
' Another paid to deceive me!' she thought. She had been
so often deceived. ' Speak!' she said, aloud.
' Lady,' began Madeleine, ' I have a child, who is very dear
to me. I would give everything in the world, except my child,
that you might be as happy a mother.'
The princess remained silent.
' I am very poor,' continued Madeleine ; ' and before I
came here, my little Charles oft&n wanted food. Oh! if I
could only repay you, dear lady, for all you have done for me.'
' Do you want anything, Madeleine ?'
' Oh, no,' cried the lady's-maid. ' It is not about myself,
dear lady, but you. You are concerned in this family
assembly.'
' I forbid you to speak of it, Madeleine.'
' Dear lady, even if you should dismiss me, at least let me
do my duty. Do you not wish to find your child again?'
The princess, trembling and pale, half rose, and let her
handkerchief fall. Madeleine stopped hastily to pick it up;
as she did so, some Spanish gold pieces fell on the floor.
'You have been bribed by the prince, who has just come
from Spain,' said the princess, in a severe tone. ' Leave me !'
Madeleine threw herself on her knees.
' In heaven's name! lady, listen to me first. He who gave
me the gold comes also from Spain.'
' Leave me!' cried the princess, still more imperiously. ' I
will hear nothing.'
When Madeleine had quitted the room, the lady sank back
in her chair, and covered her face with her hands.
' I could have loved that woman,' she murmured, with a
shudder. ' Oh, merciful Heaven! let me never trust in any
one again. My child ! my child !' she cried bitterly. ' Holy
Virgin! I wish she were dead, that I might meet her again
with thee. Holy Mother ! must I still endure this agony ?
Have I not suffered this martyrdom long enough? Oh, let
me die!' Her arms fell powerless by her sides, her eyelids
closed. The princess remained long in this dull torpor of
grief, as if Heaven in mercy had granted her prayer.
After a while she gradually revived, and stretched forth
her hand towards the prayer-book that Madeleine had placed
on the chair. At one place the book opened of itself—it was
at the psalm Miserere, which the princess was accustomed to
repeat many times a day. At first her wearv eves could
THE PLEADING.
G3
hardly see the words; then she started violently, and ex-
claimed, ' How is it possible ? The book has not been moved.'
Had she seen it in Madeleine's hand, she would have
known there was nothing miraculous in the matter; as it
was. she believed it a miracle.
Under the words, ' Have pity upon me, O Lord,' "was
written, in an unknown hand—
' Heaven will have pity, if you have faith, Have courage
to defend your child. Well or ill, go to the family council.
Eemember Nevers' devioe—the signal so many years ago—
I am here!'
The princess of Hovers drew herself up proudly.
'Courage!' she cried! 'I shall find courage—courage to
defend and protect my child!'
CHAPTEE IX.
the pleading.
The grand saloon,whichinthe morning had been dishonoured
by the ignoble auction, and would be polluted on the morrow
by the vilest gambling, shed at this moment its last ray of
splendour. Beneath its roof were now assembled the owners
of the most illustrious names in Erance—dukes, marquises,
counts, and gentlemen without number. This august as-
sembly divided itself naturally into two parts—those that
Gonzagues had bought, and those that were free. Among
the first were a duke, a prince, many marquises and counts,
and all the lesser folk: Gonzagues trusted to his eloquence
to win the rest. No one knew exactly why the meeting had
been convoked. Gonzagues had warm partisans. A few
honourable old nobles, and many chivalrous young ones, took
part with the princess; but the opinion now current, since
the cardinal's visit, was that the lady was slightly deranged.
The general belief was, therefore, that she would not attend ;
but Gonzagues insisted that she should be waited for, which
courteous forbearance made a stronger impression in his
favour.
At half-past two the meeting was opened. The president,
Lamoignon, wa3 in the chair, supported by Yilleroy and
Argenson, royal -commissioners and judges, representing the
'Duke of Orleans, who was prevented by state affairs from
presiding in person.
The court thus instituted was to decide without appeal on
all questions relative to the succession of the late l)uke of
Nevers, and the inheritance of his wealth and large estates.
A paper to that effect was read, which was listened to in pro-
found siience.
64
the duke's motto.
The question was about to be moved, as to who should
stand proxy for the Princess of Gonzagues; when suddenly
the large doors were thrown open, and the princess presented
herself, clad, as usual, in deep mourning, but so calm and
beautiful, that a murmur of admiration passed through the
assembly. No one had expected to gee her—least of all, to
see her thus.
' Gentlemen,' said the princess, in a sweet, though distinct
tone, £ no proxy is needed; I am here.'
Gonzagues went forward instantly to meet his wife, and,
with respectful gallantry, offered his hand to conduct her to
her seat. The lady did not refuse the courtesy, though his
touch made her shudder and change colour.
A seat on the right of the platform, close to the Cardinal
Bissy, had been placed for the princess. Behind her was a
door concealed by drapery.
The president again read the act of convocation. Gon-
zagues was plunged in deep reflection. No one knew—per-
haps hardly himself—whether he was glad or sorry at his
wife's arrival. When called upon by the president to set
forth hi3 wishes and his rights, he rose, bowed low to his
wife, then to the royal commissioners, lastly to the assembly.
Gonzagues was a fine orator, and his noble presence and
handsome face made a favourable impression.
' No one,' he began, in an almost timid voice, ' can think
that I have desired to convoke such an assembly from any
ordinary motives. But, before entering on a more serious
subject, I must express the diffidence I feel in appearing
before so many noble and illustrious persons, and express
my sincere thanks to all who have so greatly honoured our
family. First, I would thank his highness the regent, of
whom, not being present, one may be permitted to speak
openly—that noble, that illustrious prince, who is always
ready to do a good, a generous action.'
General applause followed this speech.
Oriol and his party clapped their hands vociferously.
' What a barrister our dear cousin would have been!' wins-
pered Chaverny to Choissy.
' Secondly,' continued Gonzagues, ' I would thank the
princess, who, notwithstanding her weak health and her love
of solitude, has forced herself to take part in our poor human
affairs. Thirdly, I would thank the noble dignitaries—sup-
porters of the greatest kingdom of the earth—who rule the
destinies of the nation; the glorious captain, whose victories
will form the theme of future Plutarchs; an illustrious prince
of the Church ; and those nobles worthy to sit on the steps of
the throne. Lastly, I thank you all, gentlemen, of whatever
THE PLEADING.
G5
rank you may be. My very soul is penetrated with gratitude,
and from my heart I earnestly and sincerely thank you all.'
This was said in the clear, sonorous tone peculiar to the
northern Italians. Inclining his head, after a moment's pause,
Gonzagues continued, with emotion—
' Philip of Loraine, Duke of Nevei's, was by birth my cousin
—in heart, my brother. Our youth had been passed toge-
ther—I may say, our souls were one, so entirely were our joys
and our sorrows mingled. He was a noble fellow ! Heaven
only knows what glories might have cast a halo of splendour
round his riper years. But lie, who holds in his hands the
destinies of nations and of men, stopped the young,eagle in
his glorious flight. Nevers died before he had attained the
age of five-and-twenty. In my life, which has known much
suffering, never have I felt so severe a blow. I speak here in
the name of all. Nineteen years have passed since that
fatal night, and yet those long years have not softened the
bitterness of our regret. His memory is there,' placing his
hand on his heart, c living, eternal, like the weeds of that
poor lady, who did not disdain to bear my name after that
of Nevers.'
All eyes turned on the princess, whose colour rose vio-
lently with her strong emotion.
'Speak not of that,' she murmured. 'Eighteen years I
have passed in solitude and tears.'
Those who were there to judge justly were moved at these
words. Gonzagues' partisans expressed their disapproval.
The Cardinal Bissy rose.
'I appeal to the president to command silence!' he ex-
claimed. ' The words of the princess should be listened to
with the same respect as those of the prince.'
' Silence!' cried Lamoignon, with so much severity as to
shame Gonzagues' imprudent friends.
Gonzagues continued, turning to the cardinal—
' Not with the same, but infinitely more respect, if it be
permitted me to contradict your eminence, should the prin-
cess, as the wife and widow of Nevers, be regarded; and I
am surprised that any here should for a moment forget the
profound respect due to the Princess of Gonzagues.'
Chaverny laughed to himself. ' If the devil only had saints,
I would plead at Borne that my cousin might be canonized,'
he said to himself.
' Philip of Nevers,' continued Gonzagues, ' died the victim
of vengeance, or of treason. I must pass over the mysteries
of that fearful night. The Marquis of Caylus, the father of
the princess, has been dead many years, and respect closes
my lips.'
GG .the duke's motto.
He saw that the princess was much agitated, and added—
4 If the princess has any communication to make, I will
give way.'
Aurora de Caylus made a vain effort to speak.
After waiting a few seconds, Gonzagues went on—
4 The death of the marquis—who could, no doubt, have
given valuable testimony—the great distance of the place
where the crime was committed, the flight of the murderers, and
other reasons with which most of you are acquainted* rendered
it impossible for justice to reach this dreadful deed. Sus-
pieion rested. But, gentlemen, Hevers had another and much
more powerful friend than myself. You all know him. That
friend is Philip of Orleans, Regent of Prance. Who, then,
dare say that the murdered Duke of Hevers had no avengers?'
There was a pause. Aurora de Caylus was silent—stifled
by her indignation. The assembly whispered a general assent.
Gonzagues continued—
41 come now,' he said, 4 to the facts which have caused this
convocation. It was in marrying me that the princess avowed
her secret but legitimate marriage with the late Duke of
He vers, and also legally attested the existence of a daughter,
the fruit of this secret union; Written proofs were wanting.
The parochial registry of the marriage and of the birth had
been torn out of the register, and the marquis, who could
alone have given the necessary information, was silent; and
who can now interrogate his tomb P The only witness is the
sacramental testimony of Don Bernard, who inscribed the
attestation of the first marriage, and of the birth of Hevers'
daughter, on the margin of the deed which gave my name to
the widow of Hevers. I wish that the princess would bear
witness to the truth of what I state.'
The cardinal leant towards her, then answered—
4 The princess contests nothing.'
Gonzagues bowed, and continued.
4 The child disappeared on the very night of the murder.
You know, gentlemen, what an inexhaustible treasury of
patience and of tenderness is a mother's heart. For eighteen
years, the only care, the only thought of the princess—tlio
employment of each day, each hour—has been to seek her
child. Hitherto, her endeavours have been totally in vain.
Hot a sign, not a trace has been discovered.'
Here Gonzagues looked towards his wife, in whose wet eye-
lids he sought in vain for that despair that his last words
should have awakened.
The princess's eyes were raised to heaven.
• Gonzagues continued, though not without apprehension—
4 How, gentlemen, I must speak to you, though most reluc-
THE PLEADING. 07
tantly, of myself. After my marriage, under tlie reign of the
late king, and at the instigation of the Duke of Elboeuf, the
parliament by act suspended indefinitely my rights to the
inheritance of He vers. This was to protect the interests of
the young princess, in case she were still alive, and I was far
from complaining of it. Still this act has been the cause of
my deepest sorrow.'
Every one was interested. A look from Gonzagues told
Oriol and his party that the critical moment had arrived.
' I was young,' continued Gonzagues, 'well received at court,
already rich, and of uncontested rank. I had a wife who was
in herself a treasure of beauty, wisdom, and goodness. But
how to escape the bitter shafts of envy ? On one point I, like
Achilles, was vulnerable. The act of parliament had placed
me in a false position, for to those degraded minds who make
interest the god of their idolatry, it seemed that I must desire
the death of Hevers' child.'
This speech was greeted with a burst of general indignation,
especially from Oriol and his party.
' Oh, gentlemen, such is the world! I had interest in the
death of this missing girl; therefore, perforce, must have an
evil design. Calumny had a fine mark; she could fasten her
most envenomed teeth in my very heart, blasting my honour
by her foul breath. I was suspected of the very worst inten-
tions; and coldness, distrust—almost hatred—separated me
from my wife. The living husband became the rival of the
dead. Oh, gentlemen, if you knew the tortures, the agony
the wicked can inflict!—if you knew the tears of blood that
are shed, invoking God's help in vain! Oh, how willingly
would I have given titles, rank, wealth, to have the happi-
ness granted to the poorest labourer—the blessing of a de-
voted wife and loving children, those holiest gifts of an all-
merciful heaven!'
The last words were pronounced with such deep emotion
as to penetrate the hearts of all the assembly. All felt not
only interest, but compassion, for a man who, with tears in
his voice and eyes, had thus laid bare the terrible wound of
his whole life. Two only in this vast assembly remained
unmoved. Those two were the princess and Chaverny.
The former retained her air of cold indifference; the latter
muttered—
' My illustrious cousin is a most consummate rascal!'
"With the rest, the coldness of the wife pleaded strongly in
the husband's favour.
' It is too much,' whispered Mortemart to the cardinal.
Oriol wept, the Baron de Batz sobbed aloud.
' What a heart!' cried Taranne.
5—2
G8
the duke's motto.
' What a noble heart!' amended Peyrolles, who had just
entered.
Gonzagues, pale with emotion, continued—
' Heaven is my witness, I bear no rancour, gentlemen,
towards this poor mother. Mothers are credulous, because
they love so passionately. If I have suffered, has she not also
endured cruel tortures ? The strongest mind is weakened by
such afflictions. She was told that I was the enemy of her
child—that vile interests swayed me, the richest man in
Prance except John Law — that I had agents in Prance,
Spain, and Italy. You were told this, madame?' he asked,
turning to the princess.
' I was told so,' she answered.
'You were also told, madame,' continued the duke, 'that
if you sought your daughter in vain, it was my hand that
secretly blasted all your efforts—is it not so?'
'I was told so.'
' You perceive, my judges and peers,' said Gonzagues.
'And were you not told one thing more, madame ?' he said,
turning once more to the princess : ' that perhaps your child
no longer lived—that she had perished by my perfidious hand
—that there were men vile enough to take a child's life ?'
The princess, pale as death, again answered—'I was
told so.'
' And you believed it, madame ?'
' I believed it,' she answered, coldly.
A cry of indignation arose on all sides.
'You condemn yourself, lady,' whispered the cardinal.
The president was about to speak, when Gonzagues inter-
rupted him.
'Allow me, monsieur,' he said. 'I have imposed on my-
self a painful duty—let me fulfil it unassisted. My chief
reason for desiring to call together this august assembly, was
to force the princess to hear me once in her life. During the
eighteen years that we have been married, never have I been
able to obtain this favour. I wanted to gain access to her—
I, her husband, whom she banished from her presence upon
our wedding-day. I wanted to show myself as I am to her
who knows nothing of me. Thanks to you, I have succeeded.
But do not interfere between us. I have a talisman that will
open her eyes.'
Then, addressing the princess amid the general silence,
Philip of Gonzagues said—
' You were told the truth, madame: I had agents in Prance,
Spain, and Italy; and while you believed these vile accusa-
tions against me, I was working for you, exerting my in-
fiuence, my wealth—working heart and soul for you. After
I AM HEKE!
G9
so many years' labour, to-day I*am rewarded. All! you
listen to me now! To-day I, who still love and honour you,
come to you, who despise and hate me, and say, 4 Open your
arms, happy mother—I have brought you your child!''
He turned to Peyrolles, and said—4 Bring in Aurora de
Hevers!'
CHAPTEE X.
I AM HEBE !
Gonzagues was a most consummate actor; all were carried
away with his touching eloquence. Even Oriol and his faction
whispered—
' To-morrow he may deceive, but he speaks truth now.'
And some of them added, 4 How can such nobleness of soul
be joined to such perversity ?'
The duke's peers and judges regretted that they had
doubted him. What raised him especially in their minds,
was his chivalric love of his wife, his magnanimous forgive-
ness of his wrongs. Every heart beat violently; Lamoignon
wiped away a tear, and Yilleroy, the old warrior, exclaimed,
4 By my honour, prince, you are a noble fellow !'
But the fullest testimony to the power of his words was the
extraordinary effect they had on the princess, and the con-
version of the sceptical Chaverny. Chaverny was hard to
convince, but at the prince's last words he remained con-
founded.
4 If he has done that,' he whispered to Choissy, 41 pardon
him all the rest.'
The princess rose, pale as a ghost, and trembling so
violently that the cardinal had to support her. Her eyes
were fixed on the door, hope and dread passing alternately
over her features. Was it possible that she should see her
child? The mysterious warning found in her prayer-book
bade her come—she had come! Should she have to defend
her child!
Whatever danger there might be, joy triumphed in the
mother's bosom. Her heart leaped forth to meet her child.
The tears of eighteen years would be repaid with one smile.
With what impatience she waited !
Peyrolles entered, leading Donna Cruz by the hand.
'How beautiful she is!' cried the faction, unanimously.
4 What a family likeness !'
But disinterested members not in the secret went still
further, and, gazing on her and the princess, said—4 She is
indeed, like her mother!'
70
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
But tile face of the princess wa3 again overcast vrith anxiety
and trouble. She regarded the beautiful young girl almost
with horror.
Oh! it was not thus that she had pictured to herself her
child. Her daughter could not be more beautiful than this
young girl, but she must be different. Another fear awoke
in the mother's heart. "What could have been the past life
of this lovely girl, whose eyes shone with such brilliancy,
whose whole person showed an air of freedom which the
restraints of education seldom permit a duke's daughter to
obtain?'
Chaverny expressed her feelings when he said—' She is
charming, but the name of Nevers does not fit her—it over-
whelms her.'
Gonzagues had not thought of this.
' Mademoiselle de He vers,' he said, 'go and embrace your
mother.'
Donna Cruz's joy was not feigned. She turned with
tenderness, and made a movement towards the princess, who
by a cold gesture stopped her.
'"What has become of Nevers' daughter?' she said.
' Heaven is my witness, that if she comes back to me dis-
graced—if for a moment she has forgotten herself—I re-
nounce her!'
'Oh, madamel' cried Gonzagues, 'is it thus your heart
speaks ? Your daughter is virtuous.'
' Unless you have good reason for doubting ' began the
cardinal.
'Beasons!' interrupted the princess, 'my heart remains
cold, my eyes tearless. Are those not reasons ?'
' If you have no other, I cannot in conscience, lady, combat
the unanimous opinion of this assembly.'
' Gentlemen,' cried the princess, ' have you already passed
judgment on me?'
'Beassure yourself, lady,' said the president; 'all here
respect and love you. Act according to your conscience, and
fear nothing. If in this matter you deceive yourself, it is
your misfortune, not your fault.'
' Oh! I have been often deceived,' said the lady. ' My
daughter ought to have the proof of her birth, the paper that
the prince spoke of: the paper which I myself tore from the
registry of the chapel of Caylus.'
'Your daughter shall have it, madame !' said Gonzagues.
' Then she has it not ?' cried the princess.
' Take me away !' murmured Donna Cruz, in tears.
The sorrowful Voice of the poor girl struck Madame de
Gonzagues.
I AM HJSKE I 71
4 Oh, heaven!' she cried, ' let me not be guilty of the crime
of thrusting my own child from me.'
A voice behind the curtain whispered—' I am here!'
The princess, overcome with emotion, leaned on the cardi-
nal's arm.
Gonzagues took advantage of her emotion.
' Oh! madame, your good angel now prompts this relent-
ing. Do not thrust aside the happiness offered you after so
many years of suffering so nobly borne. Forget the hand
that restores this treasure to you. I seek no reward. I only
ask one thing—look on your child; see, she is quite overcome
by your coldness. Look at her! Is she not your daughter ?'
The princess remained silent—the voice behind the curtain
answered, 'Ho.'
' Ho,' answered the princess, resolutely. She was no longer
afraid, she had faith in the mysterious counsellor, for he com-
bated Gonzagues. He had kept the silent promise contained
in the prayer-book; and he had spoken those well-remem-
bered words which composed the Duke's Motto. A thousand
exclamations arose on all sides; the indignation of Oriol and
his faction was immense.
' This is too much!' cried Gonzagues; ' human patience
has limits. You, madame, must give good, solid reasons for
repelling evident truth.'
'Ay!' cried the cardinal, 'my own words. Only when
ladies have taken a thing into their heads—'
'What reasons have you, madame?' said Gonzagues.
' There are deceivers in the world. The fortune of Hevers is
a fine prey. Has any other young girl been presented to you
by some base schemer, who said, ' This is your real daughter,
saved by me ?' '
The best politicians make mistakes. The president and other
grave personages looked at Gonzagues with astonishment.
' Hide your claws, tiger!' muttered Chaverny.
' She is living, madame,' cried Gonzagues between his
teeth; ' no doubt you have been told so, have you not ?'
' She is living!' repeated the princess after the voice
behind the curtain. 'Yes, living,' she cried again, 'by
Heaven's help, and in spite of all your efforts.'
Every member of the assembly rose in confusion.
' We have not heard all,' said the cardinal.
The voice behind the tapestry said, 'To-night, at the
Regent's ball, you will hear the Duke's Motto.'
'And I shall see my child!' cried the princess, nearly fainting.
Chaverny suspecting something, and with a woman's cu-
riosity slid behind the cardinal's chair. As he did so, the
slight noise of the shutting of a door was heard; he instantly
72
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
raised the curtain and opened the door. The landing outside
this door was dark, and no one was to be seen but the little
Hunchback humming a popular song with his cracked voice,
while he leisurely descended the stairs. Gonzagues mean-
while had recovered his composure, and said calmly—
' Gentlemen! decide, if you please, between the princess
and me.'
' Prince,' answered the president, ' there is no decision to
make. If Madame Gonzagues knows where her daughter is,
let her produce her. The prince will bring forward the one
lie declares to be the Duke of Severs' heiress. The written
proof spoken of by the prince and appealed to by the princess,
will decide the right. In the king's name, and with the con-
currence of my colleagues, I adjourn the council for three days.'
'I accept,' cried Gonzagues. 'At the end of those three
days I shall have the proof.'
' I shall have my daughter, and the paper. I accept,' said
the princess.
' As to you, poor child,' said the prince to Donna Cruz, as
he confided her to Peyronies' care, ' I have done what I could.
Heaven alone can turn your mother's heart towards you.'
Donna Cruz ran to the princess, and taking her hand and
kissing it, cried, 'Madame, whether you are my mother or
not, I love and honour you.'
The princess smiled and pressed her lips to the young girl's
forehead.
' You are not to blame, dear child!' she murmured gently.
' I also love you.'
Pcyrolles dragged off Donna Cruz.
The noble crowd had dispersed.
Gonzagues, who had accompanied the royal judges, re-
turned as his wife was leaving. He approached her and
kissed her hand. ' Madame,' he said, ' is it always to be war
between us ?'
' I never attack, I only defend myself,' replied the princess.
'Pray let us not discuss the matter,' said Gonzagues,
trying to hide under forced urbanity the rage that consumed
him. ' So, madame, you have mysterious protectors ?'
'I have Heaven's mercy,' answered the princess, 'the
support of mothers.'
Gonzagues smiled, doubtfully.
' Giraud,' said the princess, ' let my sedan-chair be ready.'
' Is there evening service, then, at St. Magloire ?' asked
the prince, astonished.
'I know not, but I am not going there,' the princess
replied, coldly; then, turning to one of her female attendants,
she said, ' Pelicite, put out my jewels.'
THE HUNCHBACK. GETS INVITED TO THE BALL. 73
'Your jewels, madame !' exclaimed the- prince. 'Will the
Court, which has regretted you so long, have at last the
pleasure of seeing you ?'
' I am going to the Eegent's ball.'
Gonzagues was stunned.
' You!' he muttered ; ' you!'
'I!'she replied, proudly. 'My mourning is over to-day,
prince. Do what you will, I no longer fear you.'
CHAPTER XI.
in which the hunchback gets himself invited
to the ball.
Gonzagues paused a moment, looking after his wife, who
traversed the gallery to her apartments.
'It is a resurrection!' he muttered. 'I played my game
well. How is it I have lost ? She must have a secret I have
not found out. However, we have not a moment to lose.
What can she want at the Palais Royal P To speak to the
Regent, perhaps. She evidently knows where her child is.
And I know it, too ; chance favoured me there.'
Gonzagues touched a bell, and desired Peyrolles might be
sent to him.
' She must have some fresh help. Some one must have
been hidden behind the curtain,' he muttered, while waiting
for his confidant.
'Prince !' cried Peyrolles, coming in, 'at last I can get a
word with you. Going away, the cardinal said to the royal
commissioners,' There is some mysterious crime behind all
this family disunion.''
'Never mind the cardinal,' said Gonzagues.
'Donna Cruz is in open revolt,'.continued Peyrolles. ' She
says she was made to play a wicked part. She wishes to
leave Paris.'
' Let Donna Cruz alone, and try to listen to me!' exclaimed
the prince, with impatience.
' Not before you hear the news. Lagardere is in Paris.'
' Bah ! I thought so ! Since when P'
' Since yesterday, at least,' replied Peyrolles. ' Saldagne
and Eaenza are dead!'
Gonzagues was evidently stunned. The muscles of his face
were convulsed; but he quickly recovered himself. Even by
the time Peyrolles raised his eyes, he had regained composure.
' Two at once !' he said. ' "What a devil the man is! Where
were the bodies found?'
74
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
' In the little street near your villa. Both the men liad
been killed by Nevers' thrust. Both had received their
death-wound between the eyes !'
' Well! Lagardere writes his name twice at my door,' cried
the prince, savagely. 'I am glad he is in Paris. We will
get him hung.'
' Oh, the cord to hang him ' began Peyrolles.
' Is not spun, you were going to say. I believe it is. In
faith, it is high time to look about U3, friend Peyrolles. There
are only four of us left.'
' Yes,' said the trembling factotum; ' it is, indeed, time. I
shudder when I think of whose turn may come next.'
' Two more mouthfuls," continued Gonzagues; ' we two,
and the two fellows yonder.'
' They are frightened enough at him.'
' Then they are like you, friend,' replied the prince. ' Never
mind; we have no choice left. Bring them here.'
Cocardasse and Passepoil had been making up for long
abstinence, and had made terrible havoc in the prince's
larder; they had been dining from noon till dusk.
' Come quickly,' said Peyrolles; ' the prince wants you,'
The two friends had lost all their humility in their wine-
cups ; besides, they were dressed afresh. They felt equal to
the proudest nobility of Prance.
' I believe that fellow spoke to us,' said Cocardasse.
'If I thought the rascal ' said Passepoil, seizing a
flagon with both hands.
' Be calm, friend,' answered the Gascon. ' Do what you
like with him, but don't break the glasses.' So saying, he
took Peyrolles by the ear, and thrust him towards Passepoil,
who pushed him back again to his friehd.
'You forgot, rascal, that you were speaking to gentlemen;
try to remember it in future.'
'The fellows are drunk!' murmured Peyrolles, rearranging
his dress.
'I verily believe the rascal spoke again!' cried the Gascon.
' I have a faint notion he did!' returned his friend.
Both approached Peyrolles with threatening gestures. The
factotum made his escape back to his master, to whom he did
not tell how he had been treated. The two friends followed
him, making a great clatter with their swords. As they stood
with their hats on one side, their dress in disorder, and spotted
with wine, bowing before the prince, he looked at them severely.
' Knough!' he said.
They stood motionless. Bravos take any treatment from
the man who pays them.
'Are you firm upon your legs?' asked Gonzagues.
THE HUNCHBACK GETS INVITED TO THE BALL. 75
'I have only drunk one cup to your highness's health,'
answered Cocardasse, with effrontery. ' For sobriety, I don't
know my equal.'
'He speaks truth, but I surpass him,' added Passcpoil,
timidly. ' I only took wine and water.'
'Friend,' said Cocardasse, with haughty severity, 'you
drank as much as I did; don't tell lies before me, they make
me sick.'
'Are your swords in good order?' asked Gonzagues.
' Better than good,' said the Gascon.
'At his highness's service,' added the Norman.
' That is well!' said Gonzagues.
The prince turned his back on the two fellows, who were
making low bows, and walked to the other end of the room
with Peyrolles, to whom he gave the paper on which he had
written the address given him by Donna Cruz. At this
moment the queer face of the hunchback appeared at the half-
open door. At the sight of the prince and his factotum talking
near the door he drew back and listened. He heard Peyrolles
say "these words—
'Bue de Chantre—a young girl named Aurora.'
A frightful expression came over the hunchback's face. A
dark fire shone in his eyes.
'You understand?.' said Gonzagues.
'Yes; what a chance it is!'
' Oh, people like myself have their lucky star!" returned
the prince.
' Where is the young girl to be taken ?'
' To the pavilion with Donna Cruz.'
'Must she simply be carried off?'
'Yes,'answered the prince; 'but no noise; we must not
bring curious eyes upon us just now. Address, cunning—that
is yo.ur forte, Peyrolles. If blows were to be struck, I should
not employ you. I would lay a wager our man lives there too.'
'Lagardere !' murmured the factotum, with terror.
' You wont confront him, I know,' said the prince, scorn-
fully. ' The first thing is to learn if he is out. If he is, you
are to take this card,' he added, giving Peyrolles one of the
two cards of invitation reserved for Saldagne and Faenza.
' You will then get a beautiful ball dress, like the one I have
ordered for Donna Cruz, and go to the house.'
' It is playing at toss-penny with one's life,' said Peyrolles.
' Come, come ! The sight alone of the dress and jewels will
drive the child wild. You will only have to say, 'LagardtSre
sends you these and expects you." '
'Bad plan!' cried the cracked voice of the Hunchback.
' The young girl wont come.'
76
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
Peyrolles jumped back.
Gonzagues laid bis hand on his sword.
' By Jove!' cried Cocardasse, ' there's a funny fellow.'
' All!' rejoined Passepoil; ' if Nature had treated me so ill
as to give me a hump like that man's, I should kill myself.'
Peyrolles laughed, like all cowards who have been frightened,
' iEsop the Second !' he cried.
' That fellow again!' said Gonzagues. ' Pray, do you think
that in buying my dog's place, you have acquired the right of
haunting my house? What do you want here?' he added,
turning angrily towards the intruder.
' And you, what do you want there?' asked the Hunchback,
with effrontery.
Here was an enemy after Gonzagues' heart.
' Master iEsop, we will soon teach you the danger of
meddling in other people's affairs,' he said, quietly. And he
looked towards the two bravos.
But at this moment the prince's attention was caught by the
extraordinary behaviour of the little man, who audaciously
snatched the card of invitation from Peyrolles' hand.
' What do you mean, fool!' cried Gonzagues.
'He is mad,' said Peyrolles.
' Not such a fool either," said iEsop the Second, who knelt
on one knee as conveniently as he could to write.
' Head,' he said, holding the card up triumphantly to Gon-
zagnes.
The prince read these words, which the Hunchback had
written on the back of the card :—
'Dear Child,—These adornments come from me. I
wished to surprise you. Put them on. A sedan and two
footmen will come to take you to the ball, where I shall
await you. Henri de Lagardere.'
Gonzagues was astounded.
' What is the meaning of this ?' he cried.
" It means that the youDg girl will trust that writing.'
' Then you guessed our intention ?"
" I guessed that you wanted the girl.'
. 'And do you know that it is dangerous to guess some
secrets?'
' One may make a fortune by it,' said the Hunchback,
rubbing his hands.
Gonzagues and Peyrolles exchanged signs.
' But the writing?' whispered Gonzagues.
'One of my little accomplishments,' replied iEsop. 'I
wairant the counterfeit exact, when once I know a man's
writing.'
' And this man ?"
THE HUNCHBACK GETS INVITED TO THE BALL. 77
' Oh, the man is too tall, and I am too sliort; I cannot
counterfeit him.'
f Do you know him ?'
'Yes.'
' How came you to know him ?'
' Business matters brought us together.'
' Can you give me some account of him ?'
' He struck two blows yesterday. He will strike two more
to-morrow.'
Peyrolles shuddered from head to foot.
' There are good prisons in my cellars,' said the prince, in a
threatening tone.
'Waste around,' cried the little Hunchback, contemp-
tuously. ' Make them into offices, and let them to wine-
merchants.'
' I have a notion that you are a spy employed by Lagardere,'
said Gonzagues, suspiciously.
' A poor notion. The mati in question has not a crown, and
you have millions. Come, shall I deliver him up to you ?"
Gonzagues opened his eyes with astonishment.
'Give me that card,' said the Hunchback, pointing to the
other invitation card, which Gonzagues still held.
' What will you do with it ?'
'I will make good use of it; I will give it to Henri de
Lagardere, and he will keep the promise that I have made in
his name. He will go to the Regent's ball.'
'By Jove!' cried Gonzagues, ' what an infernal rascal you
must be.'
' Ah !' said the Hunchback, modestly ; 'I am pretty well
in my way; but there are greater knaves than myself in the
world.'
' Why this anxiety to serve me ?' asked the prince.
' Oh, it is my way when people please me.'
'And I please you ?'
' Greatly.'
' And was it to testify your devotion that you paid six
thousand crowns for my dog-kennel ?'
' That was a speculation. JEsop the Eirst made his fortune
under an umbrella. I have my plan.'
Gonzagues made a sign to Cocardasse and Passepoil, who
came forward.
' Who are these ?' asked the Hunchback.
' Some of my people, who will follow you, if I accept your
services,' answered the prince.
The Hunchback bowed. 'My good friends,' he said,
'don't take the trouble to follow me; I don't want your
company.'
78
tiie duke's motto.
4 But ' said Gonzagues, with a menace.
4 You know the man as well as I do ; you know how blunt,
even rough he is. And if he saw these fellows behind
me "
4 Fellows, indeed 1' cried Cocardasse, indignantly.
4 How can one expect good manners from a hunchback?'
added Passepoil.
'I insist upon acting alone, or not at all,' said ZEsop,
peremptorily.
Gonzagues and Peyrolles consulted. •
4 Serve me faithfully,' said the prince, looking fixedly at
the Hunchback, 'and you shall be well rewarded. Other-
wise '
.ZEsop bowed profoundly. 4 The prince's confidence does
me honour,' he said. 4 To-night you shall hear from me.'
He again bowed and retired.
4 Quick!" said the prince to Peyrolles; 4 set a watch at once
over the house in the street Du Chantre, and let the rest be
done as agreed upon.'
The Hunchback went alone to the street Quincampoix,
which was deserted at this hour.
4 Funds were low,' he muttered. I1 By Jove! if I knew how
to get our cards of admission and the ball dress."
CHAPTER XII.
the house with two entrances.
At the angle of the streets St. Honor6 and Du Chantre was
a small, modest, clean-looking house, one entrance of which
was in the street Du Chantre. The family that for a few
days only had occupied this house had greatly excited the
curiosity of the neighbours. It consisted of a handsome
young man called Master Louis, a carver of sword-handles;
a beautiful young girl, whose name no one knew; an old
woman who never gossiped; and a lad of sixteen.
The young girl scarcely ever went out; and one might
have fancied her kept prisoner, had not her fresh, sweet voice
often been heard singing behind the curtain that shrouded
the old-fashioned casement of her chamber.
Master Louis went out very often, and returned late at
night. He never on those occasions entered by the street
Du Chantre; for the house had another entrance by the stair-
case of the next house from the street St. Honore, and he
entered by that.
Since they had been there, no stranger had crossed the
threshold except a little hunchback, who always entered by
THE HOUSE WITH TWO ENTRANCES.
79
tlie staircase. No doubt he was a particular friend of Master
Louis; for he had never been seen in the lower rooms, which
were occupied by the young girl, the old woman, and the
boy.
No one had ever before noticed this hunchback in the
neighbourhood; he therefore divided the general curiosity
with the handsome and silent carver.
The house consisted of a large dining-room, the young
girl's bed-room, with a window looking on to the street St.
Honore, a kitchen at the back, and two small rooms—one for
old Eran^oise Berichon, the other for her grandson, Jean
Marie Berichon. All this ground-floor had but one entrance
up some steps from the street Du Chantre ; but at the end of
the dining-room was a small staircase, which led up to the
floor above. This upper floor consisted of two rooms—one
was Master Louis' bed-room, opening on to the staircase of
the next house; the other room was unoccupied, and always
kept locked.
Neither old Fran9oise, nor Jean Marie, nor even the beau-
tiful young girl, had ever been permitted to enter this room.
One person alone shared with Master Louis the secret of this
chamber. The hunchback had been seen to enter; but what
appeared very extraordinary was, that whenever the hunch-
back entered this room, Master Louis quitted it, and when
he entered, the hunchback generally left. No one had ever
seen these two friends together.
On the» same day that the family council had taken place at
the Prince Gonzagues' mansion, the young girl in Master
Louis' house was alone in her room. It was a pretty cham-
ber, with its white-curtained bed and simple furniture. A
crucifix hung on the wall, with a few bookshelves, an em-
broidery frame, a guitar, and a birdcage, which was suspended
at the window. A few chairs, and a round table with papers
upon it—for the young girl was writing—completed the fur-
niture of the chamber.
The last rays of the sunset fell on this young girl's face, so
we shall describe her. She was one of those laughing, joyous
creatures, whose gaiety alone suffices to enliven a whole family.
Each feature- seemed radiant; but her dark blue eyes, with
long black lashes, were thoughtful. Had it not been for this
pensive look, one could hardly have fancied her of an age to
love. She was tall, almost too slender, and her movements
were modest and graceful. Her general expression was
sweet; still, there was a calm, pi'oud fire in her bright eyes
and pencilled eyebrows. The black hair, with a golden tint,
fell in luxuriant curls around her neek and shoulders, making
a frame and a glory round her lovely face.
80
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
Some women are loved ardently for a day; others are
cherished for year3 with calm tenderness. She was one to
be loved passionately and for ever. Her name, which the
neighbours had tried in vain to discover, and Francoise and
Jean Marie were forbidden to pronounce, was Aurora.
She was alone; and when the dim light no longer permitted
her to write, she sat with her head on her hand, thinking,
with her eyes raised to heaven.
A silent prayer gave a holy look to her face. A tear, like
a dewdrop, hung on her silken eyelid, then fell over her soft
cheek.
' How late he is !' she murmured.
She put together the papers scattered over the table, and
locked tliem in a little case behind her bed.
'Farewell till to-morrow,' she said, as if she were taking
leave of a friend.
She closed her window, took up her guitar, and struck a
few chords. To-day she had read over again all the pages in
the case ; they contained the history of lier life—at least, as
much as she knew of it—her feelings, her heart.
' I begin to write,' she said, ' of an evening, when I am
alone, after waiting all day. It is the first thing I have ever
done that I would not have him know. I should not like
him to see these pages, wherein I speak only of him. Happy
are they who have companions to whom they can confide all
their joy, all their grief. I am alone—I have only him.
When I see him, I am silent. What could I tell him ?'
' Still I would not write if I had not the hope of being
read—if not while I live, at least after my death. I think I
shall die young. I do not hope it; but God keep me from
fearing it. If I died, he would regret me; and I should
regret him, even in heaven. But perhaps there I might
know his heart. This thought would make me wish to die.
He has told me that my father is dead ; my mother may be
living. Dear mother, I write for you; my heart is all his,
yet it is all yours also. Have I, then, two hearts? I write for
you; I will conceal nothing from you—I would like you to
see the most hidden recesses of my soul. I once saw a child
on its knees before a gentle, beautiful woman. The child
wept, but the mother, smiling, leant forward, and kissed its
hair. Oh, mother! what divine happiness ! I fancy I feel
your kiss upon my forehead. You also must be gentle and
beautiful—your smile must comfort. Oh, dear mother! had
I only your love and his, Heaven could grant me no greater
happiness.
' Do you seek for me ? Do you regret me ? Do you re-
member me in your prayers ? Do you see me in your
THE HOUSE WITH TWO ENTRANCES.
81
dreams? I think so much about you, you must think of me.
Should Heaven ever grant me the happiness of seeing you,
my beloved mother, I will ask you if your heart never started
without a motive P I will say to you,4 It was the cry of my
soul that you heard, oh, my mother!''
41 know that I was born in France, and that I must be
about twenty. I have a vague remembrance of a sweet, an-
gelic face that smiled upon my cradle; but whether that dear
face was a dream or a reality, I know not.
4 "Was it you, dear mother ?
41 remember myself first dressed as a little boy in the
Pyrenees. I led the goats to pasture. My friend was ill,
and they said he would die : I called him then my father.
When I came back at nights, he bade me- kneel by his bed-
side, and said to me, in French-—4 Aurora, pray to Heaven
that I may live!'
4 One night a priest came to see him, and gave him the
sacrament, when he said—4 Here is my poor child, who will
be alone. Would it be a great crime to take her with me P'
4 Kill her!' cried the priest, frightened. 4 My son, you are
delirious.'
4 He shook his head, and did not answer. I crept up to
him, and said—
4 4 Dear father, I am not afraid to die, and be buried with
you.'
4 He took me in his feeble arms, and said, 4 To leave her
alone—quite alone!'
4 He went to sleep folding me in his arms. They wanted
to take me away, but I would not let them take me from him.
I thought—
4 4 If he dies, I will die with him.'
4 After some hours he awoke. I was bathed in his perspira-
tion.
4 41 am saved !' he said, and, seeing me, he pressed me to
him, and added, 4 Sweet little angel, you have saved me !'
4 After a time we quitted this place, and went farther into
the country. My friend had recovered his strength, and
worked in the fields.
41 learnt since, it was to feed me that he worked amongst
common farm-labourers.
4 We were at a rich farmer's, who also kept an inn. My
friend had forbidden me to leave the little enclosure where I
played with the farmer's children; but one day some noble-
men arrived from France, and I followed the children to look
at them. The chief called me to him, and caressed me ; he
whispered to another, and said—4To horse!' At the same
lime he threw a purse of gold to the innkeeper, and said to
82
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
me, 'Come to the fields, little one, and look for your
father.'
' I was delighted, and mounted bravely behind one of the
horsemen. I sang and laughed, and was as happy aa. a
queen. Presently I got frightened, and wished to get down;
but the horseman put his hand over my mouth. Then I
heard the sound of a horse behind me.
' My friend came along at a furious gallop. Our road led
by a wood bounded by a river. His horse had swam the
river, and leapt the hedge. I scarcely knew him; he was
terrible as a thundercloud. He had the lock of a plough in
his hand : he charged two of the servants, who fell bleeding.
The man who held me turned to fly; but my friend rushed at
him, and with one blow cleft him to the ground.
"I am here—I am here I Lagardere! Lagardere!' he
cried.
' I know not how long the fighting lasted. When it was
over, he took the horse of one of the party, and galloped
away, holding m6 in his arms. *
'We did not return to the inn. He said the master had
be' 1 1 " ' must hide ourselves in a town.
asked him how it was we were obliged to hide ourselves.
' He pressed me in his arms, and said—
"You shall know by and by.'
'Then he added, sadly, 'Are you tired of calling me
father?'
'You must not be jealous, dear mother. He was every-
thing to me—father, mother, in one. I cannot think of my
childhood without tears; he was so good—so gentle. Your
kisses, dear mother, could not have been more tender than
his; yet he was so brave—so terrible. Oh! if you saw him,
how you would love him!'
' I had never lived in a town ; and when we entered Pam-
peluna I was delighted with the fine people we saw.
' In the mountains—at the inn—I had fresh air, the sun,
the trees, and green fields ; I had also companions to play
with. But in the town, I was a prisoner within four walls,
and alono all day; for my friend went out in the morning,
and returned at night—tired, and his hands black.
'He was sad: my caresses alone made him smile. "We
were poor, and eat dry bread; but he sometimes managed to
I had never thought of that. I
CHAPTER XIII.
golden dats.
GOLDEN DAYS.
83
bring me cliocolate, or some other delicacy. Then he looked
happy.
"Aurora,' he said to me one day, $I am Don Luiz at
Pampeluna; and if you are asked your name, you must say
Mariquita.'
£ I only knew him by the name of Henri. Only by chance
did I learn that he was the Chevalier Lagardere, and all that
he had done for me. He* wishes, I think, to keep me ignorant
of all I owe him. He is so noble, so generous, so self-denying,
so brave, even to a fault. If you only saw him, dear mother,
you must love him almost as much as I do.
' One evening two gentlemen came, and asked me if Hon
Henri lived there.
' I said, ' There is no one here but Hon Luiz.'
' They said it was the person they wanted, and they would
wait for him.
' Henri returned soon after, and asked angrily what they
wanted.
' The elder one threw much gold on the table, then they
explained that they knew him to be the valiant, the invincible
Lagardere, and that they wanted a service of him, for which
they would pay handsomely. That service was, that he would
waylay and murder a gentleman who had insulted them.
' My friend refused their offer in such a manner as to make
them gather up the gold quickly and depart. "We had dry
bread alone for supper that night.
' I little knew then what renown there was in the name of
Lagardere. I have heard since how he had played with the
lives of men—the hearts of women.
' It made me very sad; but I did not love him less, when I
heard how much he had sinned. Oh, no! he needed my
prayers more: and what a change had come over him since he
became my adopted father! Mother, you must not think me
proud, but I fancied that for me he had become gentle, wise,
good; and I love to think that I have been a good element in
his life.
' At Pampeluna Henri began my education. He was very
poor, and gained little with very hard- work, and his master
treated him ill. And he, the impetuous, proud young man,
who drew his sword for a word, a look even, bore patiently
the reproaches and insults of a Spanish artisan.
' But he had a daughter. When he came home with a few
pence, hardly gained, in his pocket, he was as happy as a
king, for I smiled on him. You will smile, dear mother j
but Henri de Lagardere had but one book, an old treatise on
fencing. In this he taught me to read. I never had a sword
in my hand, but I know all the theory of swordsmanship. A
84
THE DUKE S MOTTO.
spelling-book only came when Henri had saved up five douros
to buy one. Ah! how happy I was learning to read, sitting
on Henri's lap, pointing with a straw to the letters. He was
so patient, so gentle ; and when I had read well, he kissed me.
Then we knelt down, and he repeated the evening prayer.
He was like a tender mother with a much-loved child. He
dressed me; he braided my hair; his own clothes were old,
but I had always good frocks.
' Once I saw him trying to mend my petticoat! Don't
laugh, mother; it was Lagardere, the famous swordsman,
whose renown was known through Europe.
' On Sundays, when he had arranged my curls, and fastened
my cloak, when he had polished the brass buttons of my little
bodice, till they shone like gold, and had fastened the little
steel cross—his first present—round my neck, he led me,
sm ' 1 1 ' 11 1 1
' After the mass, we took a walk in the country. How
delightful the fresh air, the joyous sunshine! We wandered
about; he entered into my games, and was more a child
than I was. In the heat of the day, when I was tired, we
hid ourselves in a v ood. Henri sat down under a tree, and
I fell asleep in his arms. He watched me the while, and beat
off the flies and gnats. Sometimes I pretended to sleep, and
looked at him through my half-closed eyelids. His eyes were
always on me, and he smiled while he rocked me to rest. If
I only shut my eyes, I can see him still—my friend, my
father! Do not you love him, too, sweet mother ?
' And then our dinner upon the grass !—a little black bread,
and some milk; but never, dear mother, were you at so joyful
a feast. Such heartfelt gaiety, such caresses, such songs,
such laughing ! And then to play again, for he wished me to
be strong and tall.
' Then, on our way home, such nice chats, interrupted now
and then to gather a flower, to run after a butterfly, or to
stroke a goat who bleated for a caress.
' In these conversations, these happy Sabbath holidays, he
formed my mind and my heart. He read secretly, in order
to teach me. He taught me to know and love God in all His
wonders, in heaven and on earth.
' Sometimes I wanted to ask Henri about my family. I
talked to him of you, dear mother, but he never answered my
questions. He only said—
' ' Aurora, I promise you one day you shall know your
mother.'
' This promise, made so long ago, will be fulfilled, I know;
fox Henri always tells the truth. And if I may believe my
the little gipsy.
85
heart, the time draws near. Oh, mother ! how I shall adore
you! But I must go on with my story. He taught me long
after we left Pampeluna; it was only when he became so
clever in carving, that every Spanish noble would pay its
weight in gold for a sword handle carved by him, that he said—
'' My dear child shall have a good education; there are
good schools at Madrid, where young ladies are taught all
that a young lady ought to know.'
£ 'I want you to teach me always, always,' I said.
' He smiled and said—'1 have taught you all I know, my
poor child!'
' Then I cried, ' I don't wish to know more.''
CHAPTEE XIV.
the little gipsy.
*1 often weep, dear mother, since I am grown up; but, like
a child, I smile away my tears. We were forced to quit
Pampeluna, when we became better off, and Henri had saved
a little. I was about ten, then.
' One evening, he came home sad, and I told him that a
man had been watching our house. Henri could not eat.
He put his arms in order, and dressed himself for a journey.
He put me on a cloth jacket, and laced my boots. He took
his sword and went out; how agitated ho looked. I trembled.
'"When he came back, he said—'We are going away,
Aurora.'
' 'For long ?' I asked.
' 'For ever!' he answered.
'' What! shall we leave our nice little home P'
'' Yes ; a poor man at the corner of the street will be our
heir; he is as happy as a prince.'
' We left.
' I must tell you, as we descended the steps of our house,
I saw a dark object in the deserted street, covered with a
cloak; I ran to it before Henri could stop me.
' It was the man who had been watching our house all day.
He was dead, and bathed in his blood. I fell down insensible.
' There had been a fight close by our home. Henri had
again risked his life for me. When I recovered my senses, it
was night; I was in a still poorer room than the one we had
left. I was lying on a bed with ragged hangings. The moon-
light shone brightly in at the unglazed windows. I heard
whisperings beneath. I called Henri. He came to my bed-
side, and made a sign to me to be quiet. He whispered to
me—' They have discovered our retreat; they are below.'
86
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
4 4 Who P'
44 The companions of the man under the cloak.'
* I trembled violently. Henri pressed my arm.
4 4 They came to the door,' he said, in a whisper; £ but I
put my arm into the rings instead of a bar ; they are gone
down to seek a crowbar to force it open, and will be back
directly.'
4 4 Oh, Henri! what do they want ?'
4 4 They are wolves, who want the prey that I have snatched
from them.'
4 Ah! I felt I was the cause of all, that but for me he might
have been happy, safe.
4 4 Father,' I cried, 'leave me here, and save yourself!'
4 4 Silly child!' answered Henri; 4 if I die, I shall be forced
to leave you; but they have not got me yet. Get up.'
41 heard afterwards that he had carried me in his arms
from Pampeluna, and come to this place to ask an asylum.
Henri was about to lie down and rest, when he heard the
trampling of horses approaching! he guessed at once what
they came for. He got up, and gently descended the stairs.
He heard our host say—41 am a gentleman, and will not give
up my guests.'
4 Then some gold was thrown on the table, and he said no
more. A voice which Henri recognised, said—4 To work,
then, at once!'
4 My friend rushed back and closed the door.
4 He guessed that from the window was our only means of
escape. There was a cork-tree nailed against the wall under-
neath, and a garden bordered by a hedge; beyond that there
was a meadow, and beyond the meadow flowed the river Arza.
4 4 You are very pale, dear,' said Henri, when I had risen;
4 but you have courage enough to help me.'
4 4 Oh, yes !' I cried, delighted at the thought of helping him.
4 4 Could you get down by that staircase P' he said, leading
me to the window.
4 4 Oh, yes, if you come too.'
4 41 pi'omise to join you, darling, very soon, or never,' he
answered. 4 "When you are down, you must throw a stone
up, and then you must glide by the hedge to the river.'
4 He raised me on the window-sill, then rushed to the door.
The men had already come back.
4 4 Make haste !' he cried, impatiently.
41 descended, and then threw a stone in at the window.
41 beard a crash, and the report of firearms, and I could
not stir.
4 In a moment Henri was on the window-sill, and in the
next instant he jumped out. He snatched me in his arms,
and fled.
THE LITTLE GIPSY.
87
44 Are you wounded P' I cried.
4 He leapt the hedge, and plunged into the river, which is
both deep and rapid there.
4 With one hand he held me above his head, and swam
across.
4 Our enemies consulted on the other side.
4 4 They are gone for the watch,' whispered Henri. 4 We
are not yet safe.'
4 He warmed me against his bosom; for I was wet through,
and my teeth chattered.
4 We soon heard their horses gallop off. They thought we
could not escape them long.
4 Henri then recrossed the water, and came back again to
the same place, *
4 4 How,' he said, 4 dry your clothes, dear Aurora, while I
dress my wound.'
4 41 knew you were wounded!' I cried.
4 4 Only a scratch. Come !'
4 We re-entered the house of the farmer who had betrayed
us, who, with his wife, was sitting over a large fire, talking
and laughing.
4 To throw them both on the ground and gag them, was for
Henri the work of a few moments.
4 4 Time was,' he said, 4 when I should have set fire to your
house; but here is the angel which saves you.'
4 His wound was on the shoulder, and bled profusely. I
made some lint, and bandaged it.
4 While my clothes dried, I was wrapped in his cloak.
4 At about three o'clock in the morning we left the house,
with our little baggage on an old mule that Henri found in
the stable, and for which he threw down two gold pieces.
4 4 If they come back,' he said to the old host and hostess,
4 tell them that Heaven protects the orphan, and that Lagar-
dere has no time now to waste on them; but their day will
come.'
4 The old mule was stronger than it looked. By daybreak
we reached Estella; we then went on in a cart to Burgos,
thence to Madrid—a long and toilsome journey. One adven-
ture alone I will relate to you.
4 We were both mounted on the same mule, and, as the sun*
was setting, had just entered the forest of Salamanca. We
met few people on the road; but here, dear mother, we first
met my little Flora—my first, my only friend. We have been
separated so many years, yet I am sure she remembers me.
Once since we have been in Paris, I thought I heard her voice
calling me. I was singing in the lower room, and rushed to
the window; but I could only see a grand carriage, with tfio
88
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
blinds down. But often since I have looked out of the win-
dow, hoping to see her light figure and bright eyes. I must
be mad ! How should Flora be in Paris ?
4 Our road led by a precipice, and by the side lay a little
girl, asleep. I begged Henri to stop the mule : I got down,
and knelt by her side. She was such a pretty little gipsy,
about my own age. If Flora is alive, what a beautiful girl
she must be ! I kissed her; she awoke, smiling, and kissed
me in return. But Henri frightened her.
"Do not fear,' I said; 'he is so kind. What is your
name ?'
*4 Flora,' she answered; 4 and yours ?'
*4 Aurora.'
4 4 Our old poet talks of A
hungry I am!'
* Henri gave her some bread and a little wine. She kissed
his hand.
4 4 Thanks, dear sir!' she said ; 4 you look as kind as you are
handsome. Do not leave me all night on the road.'
* Henri hesitated.
4' Gipsies are such subtle knaves. Leaving the child on the
road might only be a decoy,' he muttered, thoughtfully.
4 But I prayed him so earnestly, that at last he consented
to take the child with us. On the way, Flora told us her
history.
4 She belonged to a gang of gipsies that came from Leon,
and were on their road to Madrid. That morning—for what
reason I know not—the party had been pursued by the Holy
Brotherhood. Flora had hid herself among the bushes when
her companions fled. She wanted to rejoin them, but she
sought for them in vain. She walked, she ran, but she could
not find them.
4 Gipsies, after a journey, usually make a halt near a town.
Flora knew where to find her friends, but so far—so very
* I persuaded Henri to take her to the place; it was not far
out of our road.
4 Flora shared our meals and my bed. The poor mule had
to carry her, too. How gay we were! She was almost as
young as I was, but more clever. She could dance and sing,
and told us all her companions' tricks.
4 We asked her what God the gipsies prayed to ; she said a
pitcher. She told us, that in Leon a good friar had told her
about the Christian's God, and she wished to be christened.
4 She was eight days with us; and when we approached
Mount Baldoron, where we were to leave Flora, I became sad.
but I dare say you never
far off.
TREACHERY.
89
We had got used to each other, and chatted away so gaily.
She loved me, and I felt towards her like a sister.
' The weather was sultry, the sky overcast, as if a storm
were pending. Large drops of rain began to fall; Henri
wrapped us both in his. cloak. Flora had promised us the
most cordial hospitality from her tribe. The road was very
rough, and led up the side of the mountain. There was a
broad red glare towards the west.
' Flora was our guide.
"How odd the light is!' I cried.. 'I could fancy I saw
two men there, on the edge of that rock.'
" IN ot two, but ten at least,' answered Flora; ' and they are
armed.'
'' They are not, then, your brothers ?'
'' Oh, no !'
4' How long have they been watching us ?'
'' Since yesterday morning,' answered Flora. ' I thought
at first they were travellers. It is only since we have been
climbing the mountain that I suspected them; but I did not
mention it, because they are before us now, and have taken a
road where we are sure not to meet them.'
' This was true. As we ascended higher, the rocks, as far
as the eye could reach, were deserted, and no sound was heard
but the moaning of the wind among the trees.'
CHAPTEE XY.
TREACHERY.
'Night closed in; the rain had ceased, heavy clouds swept
over the sky. Still, from time to time the moon shed its silver
light down on the defile which we had now entered, and the
masses of rock on each side of us were here and there cut out
sharply against the heavens. At the end of the defile we came
upon a deep valley, at the opposite end of which was a road
cut through the rocks, like the one we had passed ; and at its
entrance was a group of gipsies, seated round a large fire,
their vigorous figures and sharp, peculiar features, being clearly
defined against the bright red blaze. They seemed to know
of our approach by instinct. They did not cease drinking,
laughing, and talking, but two of their party came towards us
with torches.
'Flora uttered a peculiar cry; they stopped, and at a
second cry returned, and took their places again round the
blaze.
'We were still at a distance from the fire, when I thought
90
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
I perceived some dark figures behind the gipsies, which, as we
approached, disappeared. Would to heaven I had spoken!
We were iu the middle of the valley, when a great fellow witli
a bronze face arose, and uttered some words of welcome in an
unknown tongue.
' Flora answered in the same language. He then said to
us, in Spanish—'Welcome! We give you bread and salt, for
our sister brings you.'
' Gipsies—even the most depraved—respect inviolably the
laws of hospitality. Once promised bread and salt, we believed
we had nothing to fear. We approached without distrust,
and were well received. Flora kissed the knees of the chief,
who put his hands solemnly on her head, and then very cere-
moniously presented Henri with some wine in a carved
wooden bowl.
'Henri drank. We all closed round the fire, and a young
girl came and danced in our midst.
'In ten minutes Henri cried out, in a stifled voice—
' Knaves ! what have you put into the wine !'
' He tried to rise, but his legs gave way beneath him, and
he fell heavily to the ground.
' My heart stopped beating. The gipsies laughed silently
round the fire. Behind them I saw arise four or five dark
figures, with black cloaks and hats slouched over their faces.
One of these men threw a heavy purse into the circle, and
said—' Make an end of it, and you shall have double.'
' The chief of the gipsies answered—'We must have time
and distance. Within twelve hours and twelve miles we
must not break the bond of hospitality.'
"Absurd fooleries!' said the man. 'Do the deed your-
selves, or let us ;' and he approached Henri lying insensible
on the ground.
' The gipsy stopped him.
' 'Until twelve hours are over andtwelve miles travelled,
we will defend our guest even against the king,'Jie said, in a
determined voice.
' All the gipsies at once surrounded Henri. Flora whis-
pered in my ear—
' ' I will save you both at the risk of my life,' she said.
' They put me on a bed of moss in the chief's tent, under
the charge of an old woman.
' I could not close my eyes. Soon every sound was
hushed, except the heavy tread of the sentinel. In a little
time that ceased, and I fancied I could hear a slight rustle
near me, and Flora's bright face peeped from under the
canvas; she drew it aside, and crept in.
' The noise she made nearly awoke the old woman, Flora
TREACHERY.
91
approached her, and made several passes before her face, until
she again slept soundly.
4 Flora made signs to me to rise and follow her. I did so,
and noiselessly we both left the tent. Flora had a lamp in
her hand, which she covered with her skirt.
44 I know where they have placed him,' she said. 4 ComO
with me.'
4 At a little distance was a group of men sleeping round the
embers of the fire; farther off Flora pointed to another tent.
44 There sleep the Christians,' she said.
'We went towards the north; Flora unfastened three ponies
which were tied to some trees. We took these ponies, and
entered the defile.
4 At a little distance we came to a cave, at the door of
which was a large stone. With great efforts we moved it
sufficiently to allow us to slip in, and by the light of Flora's
lamp we saw Henri in a dead sleep, lying propped up against
a skeleton.
44 The gipsies put him here,' cried Flora, ' because they
knew the Christians would be afraid to come, on account of
the dead man.' *
'I rushed to Henri and put my arms round his neck,
crying—4Awake! awake!'
4 Flora put her lamp on the ground, and took from under
her petticoat a small dagger, which she held in the flame.
44 Take off his sandals ! Quick, quick!' she cried.
4 I obeyed her as well as I was able. She touched with the
red-hot dagger the palms of his hands and the soles of his
feet, uttering a low song as she did so. Gradually Henri
opened his eyes and extended his limbs; my lips were upon
his forehead, when he awoke and smiled.
4' Make haste!' cried Flora.
4 Henry was already up. When he saw the skeleton against
which they had placed him, he coldly said—
4 4 Oh! that is the company I have been in. In a month
we should have been a pair.'
4 In all haste we mounted our ponies, and, guided by Flora,
took our way through the defile. By sunrise we were
approaching the Escurial; by the evening we had reached
Madrid.
4 How happy I was, for it was arranged that Flora should
stay with us. She wished to be instructed in the Christian
religion, and was baptized in the convent of the Incarnation,
by the name of Maria Delia Santa Cruz, and we were con-
finned together.
4 This went on very well for a time ; but the nuns who had
stood sponsors to my poor Flora were not satisfied with her.
,2 the duke's motto.
She tried to be good in ker way; but they wished for another
kind of goodness.
' One fine morning we saw her with her gipsy dress on.
Henri smiled, and said—c Pretty bird, do you wish to take
flight ?'
' I cried—dearest mother, I loved her so much! She cried,
too, when she kissed me; but her old habits were too strong.
She left us, promising to come back; but that same evening I
saw her singing and dancing on the Plaza Santa, among a
crowd of people who were applauding her.
* We lived in a quiet little street, at the back of which were
vast and beautiful gardens. We were no longer poor. Henri
took his place at once among the best carvers in Madrid,
although his fame was not then what it has become since. It
was a time of peaceful happiness. Flora came often to see
me, but when I entreated her to come back to live with us
once more, she smiled and shook her head. Henri once said
to me—' Aurora, she is not a proper friend for you.'
' I know not why, but Flora came less often after that.
After a time, the greatest grief that I had ever experienced
came. Henri was obliged to leave me. I knew that he was
going into Germany and Italy, but I could learn no more.
4 One morning, when I entered his room to put it in order,
I saw his desk open, which he always kept locked. On it
was a packet of papers, sealed with two seals, on which were
the motto I had heard from his mouth when he fought for
me at Venasque—' I am here.''
' It was the same paper to secure which we had recrossed
the Arza and returned to the house near Pampeluna.
' There was a list of names lying by the packet. I read it.
Forgive me, mother; I so longed to know why Henri quitted
me. There were seven names, with Naples, Turin, Nurem-
burg, Glasgow, and Paris marked against them. Then two
numbers were added without names.
CHAPTEE XVI.
in which aukoba takes compassion on a little
maequis.
f I was four long, long years without seeing my only friend,
Henri de Lagardere. I don't know how I could have lived
so long, for all my happiness fled with him. I passed those
four years in a convent, where the nuns were very kind to
me, and taught me many things ; but I did so long for him
to come back. And when that joyful time arrived, when my
AUKORA TAKES COMPASSION ON A LITTLE MARQUIS. 03
dear friend came, I was well repaid for all my tears. Words
could not express my happiness.
' After the first embrace, he looked at me and said—' You
are grown up now, Aurora, and you have grown more beau-
tiful even than I expected.'
' He thought me beautiful! You cannot think, dear
mother, how happy I felt. I was then about seventeen.
That same day I left the convent, and we went back to
our old home. But how changed! We were not to live
alone as before, Henri and I. I was a young lady
now. I found a good old woman, Francoise Berichon,
and her grandson Jean Marie, in our house. The old woman
looked strangely at me, and then said—' She is very like
him.'
'But whom was I like? This is one of the things I
never could learn. I thought Fransoise might have been an
old servant in the family, and had perhaps known my father,
perhaps you also, dear mother; but she, who is so ready to
chatter on other things, on certain subjects is dumb. As to
her grandson, he is younger than myself, and knows nothing.
' At the convent, I had not once seen Flora; but soon after
I left it, I saw her dancing on the Plaza Santa. I wanted to
seek her, but Henri said—' You must cease to see that poor
child. Bemember, there are certain things which those you
are bound to love would disapprove.'
' Whom am I bound to love ? You, above all, sweet
mother. But could you disapprove my showing gratitude to
one who served us in so great a danger ? Oh! I know you
would not.'
' My friend Henri thinks you severe, but I know you are
kind and good; and then, I love you so much, you could not
be severe.
' I was a young lady now, and was waited upon like a
duchess. Jean Marie was my page, and Francoise kept me
company.
' I was much less alone than formerly, but I was far from
being as happy.
' A change had come over Henri de Lagardere; his manners
now were always constrained and cold—sometimes even sad.
A barrier seemed to have grown up between us.
' An explanation with Henri had always been impossible;
he kept my secret even from me. I guessed that he suffered,
and consoled himself with work. His fame as a carver in
sword-handles was recognised everywhere. Ease, and even
luxury, was in our home. The favourite of the king had
said—( X have three swords—the first, with a gold hilt, which
I would give to my friend; the second, set with diamonds,
94 the duke's motto.
which I will make a present of to my lady-love ; the third is
in iron, but it is carved by Don Louis, and I will part with it
only to my king.'
' My chamber looked on to the beautiful gardens of the
Duke of Ossuna, who had been killed in a duel; therefore
the palace remained closed. One day, I saw the windows
open, and life stirring in the spacious mansion. Beautiful
new furniture was brought in, and the deserted gardens were
filled with statues and flowers. The palace had anew master,
and I heard his name was Philip of Mantua, Prince of Gon-
zagues.
' The next day, Henri had blinds fixed outside my windows,
and said—' I entreat you, Aurora, not to let yourself be seen
by anv persons who come to walk in the gardens.'
' I confess, dear mother, that I was very curious. I longed
to know about this Prince of Gonzagues; for I had seen
Henri's list since hie return to Madrid, and the two new
names added to that list were Peyrolles and Gonzagues.
Most of the other names had a red cross against them.
' It was not difficult to hear about the Prince of Gonzagues,
for everyone spoke of him. He was one of the richest men
in France, and a particular friend of the regent. He had
come to Madrid on a special mission, and held a court like an
ambassador.
'Every morning Jean Marie came, and related to me the
talk of the neighbours. How handsome the prince was, and
how generous, people said. The gossips said also that his
companions were sad young fellows, who climbed ladies' bal-
conies, broke windows, beat jealous guardians, and did all
kinds of mischief. One especially, named Chaverny, was the
worst of all. He was very young, they said, with a beardless
chin, laughing eyes, and a fresh complexion like a girl's. All
the ladies in Madrid were said to be in love with him.
' Through the openings of my blinds I sometimes saw an
elegant young man walking in the garden; but he looked so
modest and gentle, I thought he could not be Chaverny. Be-
sides, he generally had a book in hand, and walked early in
the morning. That terrible Chaverny never could get up so
early, or be so studious. Nevertheless, this little gentleman,
so gentle and studious, was the Marquis of Chaverny. He
was so handsome, so kind-looking, I could have fallen in love
with him, if Henri de Lagardere had not existed. Once my
blind was raised a little, and the young marquis saw me.
Afterwards, he was always in the garden, watching my
windows. One day he came with a long bamboo in his hand,
and, by a dexterous turn, slipped a little note between the
crevices of my sun-shades. It was such a charming little
AURORA TAKES COMPASSION ON A LITTLE MARQUIS. 95
note, dear mother. He said he wished to marry me, and that
I could save a soul from ruin, if I would consent to become
his wife. I felt such a wish to answer this note, for it would
have been a good deed. Bbt the thought of Henri stopped
me, and I gave not the slightest sign.
4 The poor little marquis waited a long time, and then re-
tired, looking very sad. I felt sad too. That same evening,
I was watching for Henri on the front balcony. Soon I saw
two dark figures approaching. Those two figures were Henri
and the little marquis.
"Do you know whom you are addressing, friend?' said
CI 11 'T 1 cousin to the Prince Gonzagues!'
Chaverny drew also.
'The combat seemed so unequal, I cried out—'Henri,
Henri! he is but a child!'
' Henri instantly lowered his sword. The marquis bowed
to me, and I heard him say—' Another time.'
' I scarcely knew Henri when he came in a moment after-
wards, he looked so discomposed; and, instead of speaking
to me, walked up and down the room.
'' Aurora,' he said ,at last, in an altered voice, ' I am not
your father.'
' I listened anxiously, but he only continued his walk, and
wiped his forehead.
'' What is the matter, dear Henri ?' I asked softly.
'' Do you know that gentleman ?' he said.
' I blushed a little in answering, ' Ho.' Still it was the truth.
"Aurora, I entreated you to keep your blinds down,' said
Henri. ' I did it for your sake, not mine.'
' I felt angry, and answered—' What crime have I com-1
mitted, that I must always hide myself?'
"Ah!' he cried, covering his face with his hands, 'I knew
that this must come. Heaven help me 1'
. ' I only understood that I had wounded him by my impa-
tient words, and tears covered my cheeks.
'' Henri—dear Henri, forgive me!'
'"What have I to forgive, Aurora?'
'' The uneasiness I have caused you. If yoii are sad, I
must be wrong.'
' He came and sat down by me. ^ .
"Speak frankly, Aurora, and fear nothing,' lie said, with
all his accustomed gentleness. ' I wish for one thing only in
the world—your happiness. Should you grieve to leave
sword leapt from the scabbard.
Madrid ?'
'' With you ?' I asked.
'' With .ne.'
96 THE^THTKE S MOTTO.
4 I looked at him steadily, and answered—4 I will go any*
wliere witli you, gladly. I only like Madrid because you are
here.'
4 He kissed my hand, and said with hesitation—4 But that
young man ?'
4 I placed my hand over his mouth, laughing, and said—
4 I forgive you, dear Henri, but not another word; and if you
wish it, let us go at once.'
4 His eyes filled with tears, and I thought he would have
embraced me. But he struggled against his emotion, and,
kissing my hand again, said gently, yet coldly—' Since you
have no objection, we will leave to-night.'
4 'And on my account, not yours!' I cried, angrily.
"Yes, on your account,' he answered, and left me.
4 I burst into tears. >
" Oh!' I cried,4 he does not love me yet!'
4 Our departure was fixed for ten that night. I was to go
in a postchaise with Francoise; Henri was to travel oii
horseback, with four guards. He was rich now.
4 While I packed my clothes, the gardens of Ossuna were
being lighted up. The Prince Philip of Gonzagues gave a
grand fete that night.
4 I was sad and unhappy, and longed for some distraction.
Do these bright scenes, dear mother, ease care and sorrow ?
4 I speak now, dear mother, of things quite recent. It is
only a few months since we left Madrid, yet the time has
seemed so long. Something has arisen between Henri
and me.
4 Oh, dear mother, if I could only pour out my heart to you!
4 We left Madrid as the orchestra under the great orange-
tree of the palace gave out its first note. Henri said to me—
44 Do you regret nothing, Aurora ?'
44 Only my former friend,' I answered; for I felt that my
adopted father was changed to me.
4 We went straight to Saragossa; thence over the Pyrenees
to Venasque, on to Bayonne, where we took ship for Ostend.
4 Henri wanted to stop in the Valley of Louron, between
Luz and Bagneres. He wished to see Don Bernard, an old
priest, who had been chaplain of Caylus under its last lord.
Once past the frontier, we left Framboise and Jean Marie in
a little village by the banks of the Clarabide. Then Henri
and I travelled alone on horseback to a bleak rock called the
Hachez, on which stands an old castle.
4 It was a dark, cold February morning, and the castle of
Caylus-Tarrides stood out like a heavy black Colossus against
the cloudy sky.
4 What tales it seemed to tell of the solemn, mournful past!
AURORA TAKES COMPASSION ON A LITTLE MARQUIS. 97
Its vastness, its grandeur, oppressed me. I felt that no one
could have been happy there.
4 And then there are such fearful stories told of the last lord,
who was called Caylus the Gaoler, and is reported to have
killed both his wives, and his daughter, and son-in-law.
4 The castle is now uninhabited, and is kept by an old man,
who is deaf and nearly blind. This old man said the present
lord had not been there for sixteen years. He is no other than
Prince Philip of Gonzagues.
4 Is it not strange P Dear mother, that name haunts me.
4 The old man told Henri that Don Bernard had been dead
some years. He would not let us into the castle, so I thought
we should return to the valley.
4 But these places seemed to have a mournful attraction for
Henri. We went to breakfast at a small inn close to the moat
of the castle.
4 We sat down to a humble table, and a woman of about
forty came to serve us.
4 '.Good woman,' said Henri, suddenly,4 you were here the
night of the murder !'
4 She let fall a flagon of wine, and looking at him distrust-
fully, said—
4 4 Were yoit there, then?'
'Perhaps,' replied Henri; -'but that does not concern you.
I want to know some things, and will pay for the information.
4 The woman shook her head.
4 4 We shut up our doors, and closed our windows,' she said.
4 It is best to see nothing in those matters.'
4 4 How many dead were found in the trenches next morn-
ing P'
4 4 Seven,' answered the woman; 4 seven, without counting
the young lord.'
. 4 4 And what was done ?'
4 4 Oh, it was said that the marquis was in the right, on ac-
count of that little window down there that was found open.'
4 41 understood that the young lord was accused of wanting
to enter the castle by that little window. But why ?'
4 The woman answered—4 Our young lady was beautiful
and rich.'
'What a sad history in a few words. How that little
window fascinated me!
41 pushed my plate from me ; Henri did the same, and we
went out.
4' It was there,' said the hostess, 4 on that bank, that the
young lord placed the child.'
4' Oh ! then there was a child !' I cried.
4 What a strange look Henri gave me! It seemed to say,
98 the duke's motto.
' That child was you!' hut he asked the woman—' What be-
came of the child ?'
'' Oh! it is dead,' she answered.
CHAPTER XVII.
suspicion".
' Henri looked around on the dismal landscape thoughtfully
and sadly; with his sword he traced lines on the ground. At
last he came to the place where I was standing, and said—
'' It must be there!'
' 'Yes,' said the hostess, 'it was there that the body of the
young lord was found.'
'' What was done with the body ?' asked Henri.
' I drew back trembling.
'' I heard it was taken to Pari^ and buried in the cemetery
of Magloire,' the woman replied.
'' Yes,' thought Henri, aloud, ' Magloire belongs to the
family of Loraine.'
' He went to the low window, and with the handle of his
sword tried its fastenings.
' The woman said, ' Oh, it is well secured, and has not
been opened since that night.'
'' What was heard that night ?' asked Henri.
'' Oh! good sir, the most fearful noises—the clashing of
swords, horrible oaths, and every now and then two brave
voices crying out,' I am here! I am here!''
'What strange thoughts awoke in me, dear mother! I
remembered this motto so well, since the first time I heard
Henri call it out, when I had been carried away from the inu.
The same motto was also on the mysterious paper.
' Henri must have mingled in this dreadful scelie. How,
he alone could tell me.
' The sun was setting as we left the place, and T often
turned to look again at the gaunt rock crowned with its
massive towers. That night I dreamt of a lady in black,
holding a child in her arms, hanging over a pale young man
with closed eyes. Was it you, dear mother ? The nest day
we went on board the vessel that was to convey us to Elanders,
and Henri said, ' Very soon, Aurora, you shall know all.
Heaven grant that it may make you happier.' His voice was
sad. ' Can it be that the knowledge of my family will bring
me sorrow ? If so, still, dear mother, I long to see you.'
' We landed at Ostend, and at Brussels Henri received a
large packet sealed with the royal arms of France. We set
01F the next day for Paris. It was alreadv dark wl>en we
suspicion. 99
entered tliat city. I was thoughtful, for my heart told me
that there, dear mother, I should see you. We passed down
a long, narrow street, and then into a lane, which brought us
to a church surrounded by a churchyard. I have since heard
it was the Church Magloire. Opposite was a grand mansion
belonging to the Prince of Gonzagues. We entered the
churchyard. A lamp gave a dim light around. Henri
stopped before a vault upon which was sculptured the figure
of a young man. He kissed its forehead, and murmured,
with emotion, ' Brother, I am come. Heaven is my witness,
I have done my best to keep my promise!'
'I heard a slight noise, and turned. Franpoise and Jean
Marie had followed us, and were kneeling at a little distance.
Henri also knelt and prayed for a long time. When he got
up he said, ' Hiss that statue, Aurora.' I obeyed, and then
asked wherefore. He hesitated a moment, and said, ' Because
the man whose stone effigy you see there was a noble fellow,
and I loved him.'
' I kissed the cold marble forehead again. Henri pressed
my hand to his heart. How tenderly he can love, dear
mother! Oh! why cannot he love me P
' A few minutes later, we reached the house in which I am
now writing. Since we entered, I have not once passed the
threshold. I am more alone than ever, for Henri is more
busy in Paris even than elsewhere. I am not allowed to go
out, and only cautiously may place myself at the window.
Oh! if all these precautions proved that he was jealous, I
should not mind them. How happy I should be to keep
myself hidden for him; but I remember those words at
Madrid—' Por your sake, not mine.'
' Hdt for his sake ! And love alone, dear mother, is jealous.
I am alone constantly. From underneath my drawn curtain
I can see the busy crowd. All these people are free. I see
the house opposite—a family on each storey—young women
with smiling, rosy children. How happy they look! I can
see as far as the windows of the Palais Boyal, often lighted
up of a night fpr the regent's fetes. The ladies of the court
pass sometimes in their sedan chairs, with handsome gentle-
men by the side, and I hear the gay music for dancing. It
keeps me awake all night sometimes; but one kiss, one kind
word from him, and I forget it all, and am happy. But do not
think, dear mother, that I have reason to complain. Oh, no!
Henri is most considerate and attentive; and though his
manner to me is co^d, is that a fault ? A thought has some-
times crossed my mind, dear mother. Knowing his scrupulous
delicacy and honour, I have sometimes fancied that perhaps
my rank is higher, my fortune greater than his. and that he
100 the duke's Motto.
fears to_love me. Oil! if it were only this, how willingly
would I renounce rank, fortune, everything for his love.
Could I love you, dear mother, less if you were poor P
4 Henri's only visitor is a hunchback, who comes very often
to Henri's room on the first floor, yet they are never seen
together, which makes all the neighbours wonder. The other
evening the hunchback came and stayed all night. The next
day Henri was sadder than usual, and said—
4 Men placed too high become giddy. What gratitude can
one expect from princes ? Besides, what service is requited
by such base coin? If the noble lady for whom I might
have risked my honour and my life, could not love me, be-
cause hke was at the top of the scale, I at the bottom, I would
fly so far away that I should never know whether she insulted
me with her gratitude.'
4 Mother, I am sure the hunchback had been talking of you.
4 Oh! it is indeed too true, he .has not only risked for mo
his honour and his life, but he has done much more. Has
he not devoted to me eighteen years of his proud manhood?
How can one pay such a debt ? How he is deceived, is he
not, sweet mother ?
4 You would love him; you would despise me if my whole
heart, except my love for you, were not his. But how dare I
tell him this? Oh, I feel so timid with him—much more
than when a child. It would not be ingratitude only, it would
be infamy not to love him who has done everything for me.
And what mother, were she even cousin to the king, would
not be proud to have Henri Lagardere for a son? Is he not
the handsomest, the bravest, the most noble of men ? If there
were among these nobles, these grand ladies, a wretch so
lost, so perverted as to say to me—4 Aurora, forget your
friend.'
4 The idea alone makes me shudder. But you, dear mother,
whom I have so loved, so cherished, you will kiss me and
smile on me.
4 However high Heaven may have placed you, you have
something better than your rank; it is your heart! Even
the suspicion wrongs you. Oh! forgive me that I have dared
to write of it. I have no longer light to write, and I close
my eyes that I may see your sweet face in my dreams. Come,
gentle mother!'
With these words closed Aurora's manuscript,
It was now dark, and Jean Marie entered softly. He was
the son of the nimble page who appears in the first chapters
of the story, bringing Hevers' letters to Lagardere. He had
died a soldier's death, and his old mother had now only a
grandson left.
SUSPICION.
101
Grandmother wishes to know, my lady, whether you will
sup here or in the other room,' the boy said, respectfully.
' What time is it?' asked Aurora, waking from her reverie.
' Supper-time, lady.'
' How late he is!' murmured Aurora; ' lay the supper here,'
she added, speaking to the boy.
Berichon brought the lamp and set it on the table.
* The curtains are not well closed, child,' cried his grand-
mother, from the kitchen.
Berichon shrugged his shoulders as he obeyed. 'One
would think,' he grumbled, ' we were afraid of the galleys.'
The boy was somewhat in Aurora's position. He was ig-
norant of everything, and very anxious to learn.
' You are sure he is not in his room?' asked Aurora.
' Sure ! are we ever sure of anything here ?' exclaimed the
boy; ' I heard the hunchback, and went to listen.'
' You did wrong,' said Aurora, severely ; ' but did you hear
anything ? Where can he have gone ?'
' Oh! only the hunchback knows that, my lady. It is very
odd that a gentleman so straight and upright as Chevalier—I
mean Master Louis—should take a fancy to a fellow as
crooked as a corkscrew, who comes and goes by the back
door.'
' Is he not the master ?—has he not a right to choose what
friends he likes ?' interrupted Aurora.
'Yes, of course he can do as he pleases; he can go out, and
come in, and shut himself up all day with his ape, if he
pleases. Nevertheless, it makes the neighbours talk, my lady.'
' You talk too much with the neighbours,' answered Aurora,
reproachfully.
' I!' cried the boy ; ' I talk! I say, grandmother, my young
lady says I am a chatterer now.'
' Oh! I have known that a long time, child,' replied the
old woman; ' and idle, top.'
Berrichon crossed his arms in an attitude of despair.
'Well!' he cried, 'I suppose, then, that I have every
fault. You'd better tell me that at once! I who never say
a word, but only listen; though it is not so easy to be silent
when asked so many questions.'
' What questions ?' •
' Oh, all sorts of things : where we came from ; where we
are going; the age of the Chevalier—I mean Master Louis ;
your age, Mademoiselle Aurora ; if we are French, and if we
are Catholics ; if you confess, mademoiselle, at St. Eustache
or St. Germain ; why you never go out ?—Madame Moyneret
laid a wager with La Guichard that you had but one leg.
Why Master Louis goes out go much ? Why the hunchback
102
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
comes so often P Oil! are they not curious about him ? They
say——'
'And you listen to all this nonsense, Berichon?' inter-
rupted Aurora.
'No, indeed, mademoiselle; I know better how to behave.
But only to hear them, especially the women! I can't step
out into the street but what my ears burn! ' Hollo, Beri-
chon!' cries the shopkeeper opposite ; ' come and taste my
new wine; it is so nice!' ' Oh, that dear boy would like a
tart!' calls out the pastrycook; and the woman who keeps
the buttershop, and the one at the side who mends old furs,
and even the lawyer's wife, all are after me. Just listen, ma-
demoiselle, how they go on; it is really fine fun! La Bala-
hault, the tall, dark woman with spectacles, says, ' How pretty
and graceful she is!' meaning you, mademoiselle. 'Sheis
about twenty, is she not, dear?' 'I don't know,' I answer
gruffly. ' She's a very sweet creature, but she does not look
like the niece of a carver of sword-handles. Is she his niece,
my love P' ' No,' I reply. ' His daughter, then, perhaps, my
child!' ' No !' and I try to pass on, and then they all make
a circle round me, crying out, ' If she is not his daughter, is
she his wife ? is she his sister P his niece ? or an orphan that
he has fished up somewhere ? And I scream out, ' No! no!
no!' with all my might.'
' You were wrong, Berichon,' said Aurora, sadly, ' to tell
an untruth. I am a poor child that he has brought up in
charity.'
' What an idea!' cried Jean Marie.
' The next time, tell them so,' returned Aurora ,• ' I am not
ashamed; and why hide his goodness?'
' How angry the master would be, if he heard of such a
thing!' cried the boy; ' charity, indeed!'
'Would to Heaven they said nothing worse in speaking
of us both.'
' Oh! you know, then ■ P'
' What ?'
'Oh, nothing, mademoiselle!'
' Speak, I desire—I command!' said Aurora, imperiously.
Berichon looked down, twiddling the napkin in his hand.
' Oh, you know, miss, only gossip. They say he is too young
to be your father, and since he is so careful of you, and is not
your husband '
' Go on!' murmured Aurora, her pale features cold and stern.
' Oh, mademoiselle, if he is neither the father, the uncle,
the brother, the husband, he must be '
Aurora covered her face with her hands.
103
CHAPTER XVIII.
mastee louis.
Bebichon already bitterly repented of what be bad said;
be saw ber sobbing, and tbougbt, ' If be were to come in
just now!'
' Wbile be, wbo is neither tbe father, the brother, nor the
husband of a poor forlorn child,' said Aurora, proudly, ' is
Henri Lagardere, be is ber friend, ber preserver, ber bene-
factor. Oh! even their calumnies show me bow high be is
above other meh. Since be is suspected, others must act dif-
ferently. I love him well—I shall learn to adore him soon—
tbe only creature in tbe world wbo has cherished, loved me.'
' And bow he does love you, miss! Grandmother and I
see it everyday. It is, 'How has she slept?' 'Was she
happy yesterday ?' ' Is there anything she wishes for ?' And
if we can only discover a wish, how pleased he is !'
' Yes,' said Aurora,' he loves me as if I were indeed his
child.'
'Hot exactly,' said Berichon, softly.
Aurora struck her head. She so dearly loved to speak of
Lagardere; she did not think of the age or condition of her
confidant. ' I am always alone,' she said, ' and he. comes in
so late ever since we have been in Paris.'
' Oh! I wager he is upstairs now!' cried Berrichon, ' if
you would not mind just calling him with your gentle voice.
I am afraid of going up, since he caught me once looking
through the keyhole of the locked-up room. And if only
you knew, miss, how much I wish supper to be over to-night,
that I may have a peep at all the grand doings at the Palais
Royal! Have you not seen, miss,' continued the chatterer,
' all the coaches, and the flowers and shrubs, the lamps, the
pastry, the ices? How jolly it must be I Wouldn't I like
to be there, that is all!'
' Go and help your grandmother,' said Aurora.
' Poor young lady!' thought the lad, going; ' but no doubt
she longs for a dance.'
' Oh, how long he stays every night,' said Aurora to herself.
' He forbids me to go out; this mystery always around, about
us—he hides his name. I know he is in danger. His ene-
mies, or rather mine, are powerful; for I know he does this
for me. As if he thought I could not read his joy, his sor-
row, his anxiety, in his face. He wishes me not to know his
dangers, his trials—as if their wretched uncertainty were not
far harder to bear than any troubles. If I might only share
his thoughts, his feelings '
104
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
A slight noise was heard above. She ran joyfully to meet
Lagardere, who, lighted by Jean Marie, descended the stairs.
Lagardere, whatever was his age, was still a young man.
Light curling hair played over a clear white forehead, and
his cheeks still retained the colour of youth, which would
have even given him an effeminate look were it not for the
brilliancy of his eyes, his well-marked eyebrows, and the firm
expression, of his mouth, which denoted both strength and
resolution. He was dressed in black velvet. From the top
of the stairs his eyes already sought Aurora, but he repressed
the feeling. An observer would have guessed at once that
his life was passed in continual restraint, and that the iron will
of a stoic repressed the movements of a tender affectionate
heart. ' You have been waiting for me, Aurora ?' he said.
Frangoise put out her red face from the kitchen, and said,
' As if it were right to make the poor child cry P'
Aurora threw her arms round his neck. ' Look, Henri, if
there are tears in my eyes ?'
' Nevertheless,' cried Frangoise, bringing in the principal
dish, 'that does not prevent our young lady from being
always alone, and that makes her sad.'
' Did I ask you to make any complaint ?' murmured
Aurora, red with vexation.,
They sat down to table opposite each other.
Deriekon stood behind Aurora. Supper was scarcely over
when Master Louis said to him, ' That will do—leave us.'
' Grandmother,' said Berichon, going into the kitchen,
'I wager something is going to happen; did you see how
concerned master looked ?'
' Go and wash up,' answered Fran^ise,' and don't meddle
with other people's business. Master is as strong and brave
as a lion, but our young lady is a match for him.'
' Oh! she does not look it,' cried Berichon, astonished.
' That is the very reason,' answered his grandmother.
'You are not happy, I fear, Aurora?' said Lagardere,
when they were alone.
' I see you so seldom.'
' And do you blame me, dear child ?'
' Oh, no, indeed; sometimes I cannot help being uneasy.
Children, you know, Henri, are frightened in the night, and
in the daytime forget their fear. It is the same with me;
when I see you, I feel happy again.'
'You have for me the tender affection of a daughter, and
I thank you,' said Lagardere, turning away his head.
'And you, do you love me as if you were my father,
Henri P' asked Aurora.
Master Louis got up and advanced towards her. Aurora
MASTER LOUIS.
105
placed him a chair, and said, joyfully, ' Oh, come, let us talk
as we used to do. Do you remember that happy time ?'
Henri answered sadly, ' That time is past.'
Aurora took his hand, and looked at him searchingly.
'You also suffer, Henri!'
He shook his head. ' Once,' he said,' I had so beautiful,
so glorious a dream, that it has taken away all my peace. It
was only a dream ; but now I am awake. I have sworn, and I
keep my word. I am old, darling child, to begin a new life.'
' Old!' cried Aurora, laughing.
Henri did not laugh. ' At my age,' he said, seriously,
' others have a wife, children.'
'And you have not,' interrupted Aurora. 'Henri, you
have only me.'
He made a movement as if to speak, and stopped. Au-
rora went on. ' You have only me, and I—I am an obstacle
to your happiness. Do you know what they say ? She is
not his daughter, his sister, his wife.'
'Aurora,' interrupted Master Louis, 'for eighteen years
you have been all my happiness.'
' You are generous. I thank you,' murmured Aurora, and
after a short pause, added, ' 1 know nothing of your thoughts
or your actions, Henri; but when I am alone it makes me
very sad to think that without me a beloved wife would have
cheered your solitude, without me you would have needed no
concealment, no disguise; you might have been free and
happy. Henri, you have been more to me than a kind
father—for me you have smothered your love, crushed your
heart's affections.'
' Dear child,' said Master Louis, turning from her, ' you
deceive yourself;' then he added, with emotion, ' Aurora,
when you no longer see me, will you remember me ?'
The poor girl turned pale; had Master Louis turned he
must have seen her agitation.
' Are you going to leave me again ?' she murmured.
'Ho—I don't know—perhaps,' he answered, in a trembling
voice.
' Oh! I entreat you, I entreat you, have pity upon me.
If you go, take me with you.'
He did not answer, and she continued, with tears in her
eyes, ' You are angry because I am exacting, unjust. I will
never be so again. Oh, Henri, I am happy when I see you
every day. Oh! you do not answer me, Henri—listen to
me!'
In a childlike way she turned his face towards her; her
eyes were full of tears.
She knelt beside him and said, 'Henri, dear friend, father!
106 THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
Were you happy, your happiness should be your own j but I
will share your tears.'
He drew her towards him; then his arms relaxed, and lie
said, in a bitter voice, 'We are both fools, Aurora, to go on
thus.'
4 Oh, Henri, how changed you are since the day you told
me you were not my father.'
'Yes, the day you asked me to spare the Marquis of
Chaverny—I remember it well. The marquis has come back
to Paris.'
She did not answer, but he could read her thoughts in her
eloquent features. He kissed her hand, and rose to leave.
She held him fast. 4 Stop,' she said; ' I see I am a trouble
and care to you; I will go—oh ! I know not whither; but
at least you shall be delivered from a charge that has become
too heavy.'
4 To leave me, Aurora, you need not fly,' murmured Henri.
4 Then you will send me away ?' cried the poor girl, deeply
affected. She was still kneeling, with her head upon his
knee. 4 Oh! Henri,' she cried, bursting into tears,' so little
would make me happy, so little. How happy and joyful I
used to run to meet you.' He- gently stroked her beautiful
hair. 4 Oh, be as you were then, I ask no more,' she con-
tinued; 4 tell me when you are happy, that I may rejoice
with you; but, above all, tell me when you are in trouble,
that all your sorrow may pass into my heart. Oh! it would
do you good. Had you a daughter, a dearly-loved daughter,
would you not do so to her ?'
4 A daughter!' he repeated, and his face became sad.
4 Oh! i know that I am nothing to you: but never tell me
again.'
He passed his hand over his eyes. 'Aurora,' he said,
calmly, 4 there is a life of pleasure, however, richer, that you
know nothing of, dear child.'
4 And why need I know it?'
41 wish you to know it; perhaps,' he added, lowering his
voice,4 you will have to choose—to choose rightly, you must
know.' He got up. There was an expression of thought and
resolution on his noble features as he said, 4 Aurora, it is your
last day of doubt and ignorance, and perhaps my last day of
youth and hope.'
4 Oh! explain yourself, Henri, for heaven's sake !'
41 have acted,' he cried, looking up—'heaven is my wit-
ness—I have acted according to my conscience. Pare well,
Aurora ; consider, reflect to-night, consult your reason rather
than your heart. I will not say anything to bias you. I
wish your choice to be free, Bemember only—whatever may
TWO YOUNG GIRLS. 107
happen to-night—I have only your good in view, and take
comfort, if I do not soon return, in the thought that near or
at a distance I watch over you.'
He kissed her hand and departed. Her eyes followed him
as hq mounted the stairs, and he kissed his hand to her again
before he entered his room.
CHAPTEE XIX.
two young girls.
Aurora was alone. The conversation she had had with
Henri left her confounded, almost stupified—her thoughts
wandering, while her heart was sorely wounded. She dreaded
what might happen that night. Although she had in her
short life passed through many adventures, his arm had
always protected, supported her. She felt that whatever
might come upon her now she must bear alone. Had he not
told her to think, to choose for herself? A fearful dread
came over her that she might have to decide to choose be-
tween her mother and Henri; for in regard to riches, rank,
and name, had she not already made her choice ? Would she
not willingly sacrifice all for him ?
She opened her window, and leant out to cool her burning
brow. Many persons were passing, a crowd had assembled
round the Palais Eoyal, which was brilliantly lighted up.
Already sedans and litters were bending their way thither
between a double line of curious spectators. A strong desire
to make one of that brilliant assembly came over Aurora. In
the kitchen, Jean Marie played tempter to his grandmother.
After they had finished their own supper, and put away, the
page went for a few minutes to the door, and returned with
such a vivid account of the lights, the decorations, the ladies
in diamonds, and other splendours, that Franfoise was
tempted to venture into the street to look at them, leaving
the street door open. Once there, the gossiping neighbours
made her for once forget her charge. Aurora remained
alone. The young girl heard a slight noise, turned, and
uttered a scream on seeing before her a stranger in a pink
domino. Her scream was answered by a joyful laugh, and
the visitor pulling off her mask, discovered the playful face
of Donna Cruz.
' Flora!' cried Aurora, ' is it indeed you ?'
The young girls embraced each other.
'How happy I am to see you, but how could you get in ?
I am forbidden to see any one.'
108
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
'Well, your prison is well guarded—tlie door wide open,
No one to say, be off.'
Aurora passed quickly through tbe otlier room into the
kitclien, calling Fran^oise and Jean Marie, but receiving no
answer, and perceiving tbe street door wide open, went and
closed it without locking it; then returned to her friend.
' How much you are grown, and how handsome,' cried
Donna Cruz.
' And you, too,' returned Aurora. And they regarded each
other with joyful admiration.
' And this dress,' said Aurora. ' Oh! I guess you are going
to act to-night.'
' No, indeed,' returned the other,- ' I am going to the ball.'
'What ball?'
' To the regent's, of course,' answered Donna Cruz, draw-
ing herself up. ' I am going to be presented to his royal
highness by the Princess Palatine. I dare say you are sur-
prised, so am I myself; but such strange things have come
to pass—I will tell you all about it.'
' But how did you find out where I lived ?'
' Oh! I knew, and was coming to see you to-morrow. I
had permission, for I am kept a prisoner like yourself, only
my cage is far prettier than yours. When, behold, this
evening, just as I had finished dressing, a knock came at my
door, and a little hunchback presented himself, and bowing
very low, said, ' If you please I will conduct you where you
wish to go.' The notion tickled my fancy, and I consented
at once. He led me out by a back way into a carriage,
jumped in himself, and in no time we were at your door. I
turned to thank him, and he had vanished.'
' But why are you to be presented to the regent, Flora ?'
' Oh! my dear,' returned her friend, throwing herself into
an easy chair, ' it i3 all a mistake, a dream, an illusion, my
being a gipsy. I am the noble daughter of a princess, that
is all.'
'You!' cried Aurora.
'Yes, I,' said the other, complacently. ' Gipsies, you know,
do such pdd things ; they get down chimneys—after the fires
are out, of course—and so introduce themselves into palaces,
and carry off some valuables, and among the rest the young
heiress in her cradle.'
'Delightful!' cried Aurora, pleased with her friend's good
fortune. ' And what is your name ?'
' The Princess of Nevers.'
'Nevers!' repeated Aurora—' one of the highest names in
France.'
' Yes, my love, it appears that we are cousins to the king.'
TWO YOUNG GIRLS.
109
4 But liow ?'
4 On tliat point, my dear, I am as ignorant as you are ; but
I am to know soon, at least, my guardian the Prince
Gonzagues.'
' Gonzagues!' echoed Aurora, shuddering.
'Yes, the prince is the husband-of the Princess of Nevers,
my mother.'
Aurora remembered her visit to the castle of Caylus. The
child then spoken of was Flora.
' What are you thinking of?' asked Donna Cruz.
' I was thinking of that name Gonzagues. Do you love
your guardian—your mother's husband ?'
' Oh, Caramba!' cried the young princess, forgetting her
dignity, 41 have seen my mother, and have a great respect for
her, for she has suffered so much; and I love her, too, only
not as one ought to love a mother; and as for the prince,
her husband, you need have no fear to tell me anything
about him.'
'Well, then,' said Aurora, 'that name of Gonzagues has
been mingled with all my terrors as a child and my unhqppi-
ness since. The first time my friend risked his life for me, I
heard that name; I heard it again when we were attacked at
Pampeluna; also on that night that you saved our lives; at
Madrid, Gonzagues again; and once more at the castle of
Caylus.'
Donna Cruz was silent for a few moments; then she said—
4 Did Don Luis ever tell you that you were the daughter of
some great personage ?'
'No—never!'
4 Oh, I can't bear thinking,' cried Donna Cruz, ' but it
seems to me that you look more like a princess than I do.
But of what use is puzzling one's brains ? It is best to take
things as they come, as my former friends the gipsies used to say,
who consoled themselves for everything by saying it was fate.
But what I cannot understand is, that the Prince Gonzagues
should be a robber, a murderer. Oh, it is impossible. Per-
haps there are many Gonzagues. Besides, if the prince were
really your persecutor, is it likely Don Louis would have brought
you to Paris, where he lives ?'
' Ah,' said Aurora,4 but such precautions are taken. I am
forbidden to go out; even to show myself at the window.'
' Oh, he is jealous!' cried Donna Cruz.
' Oh, Flora !' cried Aurora, reproachfully.
Donna Cruz executed a pirouette. ' Oh, yes, your Master
Louis,your handsomeLagardere, your knight-errant, isjcalous.
Don't I know that lovers already measure the height of your
windows ?'
110 the duke's motto.
Aurora blushed crimson, but remained silent.
' And is he still as handsome, as proud, as gentle as ever ?
And tell me, dear—whisper it in my ear—do you love him?'
4 "Why should I not own aloud that I love him,' answered
Aurora, proudly.
' And are you happy—very happy?'
'Yes, when he is here.'
'Oh, capital!' cried Donna Cruzj looking around rather
contemptuously. ' True love in a cottage. But I begin to
think that Master Louis must be a sorcerer, do you know.
Once I loved, or thought I loved some one, and he put his
hand on my forehead, and said: ' Elora, he can never love
you.' And I was cured.'
' And who was it that you loved P' cried Aurora, anxiously.
•' Oh, I am sure it was himself! You, my rival?'
CHAPTER XX.
the theee wishes.
' Oh ! so he loves you only!' cried Donna Cruz, embracing
her friend warmly.
' And you P'
' Oh, I am cured of my folly. Besides, I am sure he is a
sorcerer. Do, now, just wish for something, and see if it will
not come true. How, don't you wish to go to the regent's
ball to-night P'
'But I have no dress, no ornaments,' objected Aurora,
though laughing at her friend's earnestness.
'IN"ever mind, only wish one, two, three,' answered Donna
Cruz, seriously, for she believed in magic, and it must be
owned rather feared it; but what was her astonishment when
Berichon suddenly thrust open the door, crying out—
' Here is all sorts of finery for our young lady—such a
number of bows, dresses, and flowers, and I know not what.
Come in—this is Master Lagardere's house.'
' Oh, what do you say ?' cried Aurora, frightened.
'Don't be alarmed, miss—I know what I am about5 ho
more hiding—no more mystery.'
Eive or six young girls now entered, followed by men
carrying bandboxes and parcels. Donna Cruz was lost in
astonishment.
' Oh, he is a sorcerer,' she muttered—' I knew he was.'
' Come in, ladies ; come in, gentlemen,' called out Berichon,
much excited. ' There is a blessing on our house now. I
will go and fetch Madame Balahault, who is dying with
THE THREE WISHES. Ill
curiosity to know how we live. I never tasted anything so
delicious as her angelica!'
All entered the dining-room, and placed their bandboxes
on the large table. Behind them came a page dressed very
plainly, who saluted Aurora respectfully, and presented her
with a note enveloped in silk. He again bowed and retired.
' At all events wait for the answer,' cried Berichon, running
after him.
But the page was already at the other end of the street,
where he was joined by a gentleman wrapped in a large
cloak, whom the reader might recognise by his long chin, the
rest of his face being hidden, to be Peyrolles.
' Is it done P' he asked. ' And where have you left
our men?'
' Close by, with the two sedans.'
'"What, two ? There must be some mistake. Go back to
the palace at your best speed, and tell those two fellows who
have been about all day—Cocardasse and Passepoil—that
their work is all cut out for them, and bring them to that
house, but be sure not to tell them whom it belongs to; and
if they ask, say only women live there.'
The page set off full speed, and Peyrolles disappeared in
the crowd.
In the house Aurora opened her note, and cried—' It is his
handwriting!'
' And,' said Donna Cruz,'here is a card of invitation to
the ball, just like mine.' And she held it in her fingers, as if
afraid to touch it.
Aurora read the note, which was the same the hunchback
had written, and passed it to Donna Cruz.
' Do you believe it P' cried the latter.
'Oh, yes,' answered her friend, with a confident smile,
'I have good reason for not being asto'nished at anything
to-night.'
The bandbox and parcels now displayed their ravishing
contents on the table, and Donna Cruz gave up the idea that
they would turn into dry leaves. They consisted of a very
elegant ball-dress of rich white silk embroidered in silver with
coral and pearls; around the sleeve, the' boddice, and the
skirt was a trimming of humming-bird's plumage. It was the
last fashion.
The Marchioness d'Aubignac had just made herself a repu-
tation at court by a similar costume which Mr. Law had made
her a present of. Besides the dress, there was magnificent
lace, and a fan of unknown value. Donna Cruz admired and
wondered, and still had an indistinct notion that all these
things would suddenly turn into shavings or leaves.
112 THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
But there was one, and not the least curious spectator, that
no one dreamt of. It was the little man who had brought
Donna Cruz, who had forged .Lagardere's name, and liad
hired Mcdor's witch, the little hunchback, iEsop the Second.
He had hidden behind the door of the upper chamber, which
door being partly opened gave him, over the heads of the assis-
tants, a good view of what was passing below.
' In faith,' he muttered with an inward chuckle, ' the prince
does things in style, and the rascal Peyrolles has decided
taste.'
At the sight of all these elegant things, Aurora's heart heat
with delight; it never occurred to her, as it did to her friend,
how much they must have cost. Lagardere sent them, that
was enough. Her only embarrassment w as she had no lady's
maid. Two of the young girls, as if they had guessed her
though! s, came forward and offered then* services; while the
rest withdrew.
1 What! you are not going to put yourself into the hands
of those creatures P' whispered Donna Cruz in alarm.
' Why should I not ?'
' Do you really think of putting on that dress ?'
' Certainly.'
' You are courageous !' murmured the gipsy, 'but you are
right; it is a demon of exquisite taste, and why not adorn
yourself with his gifts P'
They all retired into the bedroom except Fran^oise and
her grandson; the former took out her knitting, and began
her reflections.
' Who is that bold girl ?'
' What, the young lady in the pink domino; whose eyes
sparkle so ?'
' Yes j did you let her in P'
'No; she was here before I came back.'
'I tell you what, little one,'said Framboise, gravely, 'there's
something about all this that does not please me at all. I
like to see things clearly.'
' Oh! grandmother, it is as simple as can be. Our young
lady wanted to go to the ball, so master went out and bought
her a ticket, for they are to be sold, I can tell you, in the
Eue Quincampoix ; and then as a pleasant surprise he sent
home all this finery.'
' But this finery must have cost an enormous sum.'
'How green you are, grandmother; only old satin anl
frippery.'
Then a knock was heard at the street door.
' Who is coming now ?' said Franfoise, crossly; ' put up
the bar,'
THE THREE WISHES.
113
£ Ok! there is no need now; we are no longer playing at
hide and seek.'
A louder knock.
* If it should be thieves !' muttered Borrichon, who was not
brave.
' Thieves ! nonsense, when the street is lighted up, and full
of people.'
'Nevertheless, I will put up the bar.'
But it was too late; the door was gently opened, and the
figure of a man, with an enormous pair of mustachios, pre-
sented itself. He east a rapid glance around, and said, ' By
Jove! this must be the dove's nest,' and, turning to the door,
'Pray come in, friend, there is here only a respectable
duenna and her chick.'
He then advanced majestically, shaking his cloak, one hand
on his hip, and a parcel under his arm. The friend who now
advanced carried also a parcel; he was thin and short, and,
though also armed, was of much less formidable appearance.
How bitterly did Jean Marie now regret he had not put up
the bar; he now stepped behind his grandmother, who, by
far the bravest of the two, asked, ' Pray what is your busi-
ness here ?'
Coeardasse, for it was he, with his usual noble courtesy,
touched his hat, then winked at his companion, who winked
in return. The dove, as Coeardasse thought, must be in the
room under the door of which streamed a ray of light; on the
other side was a door half open leading into the kitchen, with
a key on the outside.
'Venerable dame,' began Coeardasse, 'our business is of
consequence : is it not here that lives '
'No, it is not here,' shouted Jean Marie from behind his
grandmother.
'What a clever youth to know beforehand whom I wanted;
is not he, Passepoil P'
'We live by ourselves here,' said Franijoise, drily.
' Passepoil!' cried Coeardasse, ' would you have thought
such a respectable person could have told such a fib ?'
'No, on my honour,' said his friend, sadly.
' Come, come, no more words,' exclaimed Dame Fran<?oise;
' get along with you ; a fine time of night to disturb people so.'
' The lady is in the right,' continued Coeardasse; ' still we
cannot leave without an answer.'
' That is the fact,' insisted his companion, who coming now
clearly forward, said, ' Get out your handkerchief, I have
mine; you take the boy, I'll take the lady in hand.'
On grand occasions Passepoil came out strongly, sometimes
even stronger than Coeardasse himself. He now made his
8
114 the duke's MOTTO.
way towards tlie kitchen, and the intrepid Franchise rushed
forward to stop him. Berichon tried to make his way into
the street to call for help ; but Cocardasse seized him by the
ear, and'whispered, 'If you make a noise I'll strangle you.'
The terrified boy was silent. Cocardasse tied his handler-
chief over his mouth.
In the meanwhile Passepoil, at the cost of a few scratches
and a handful of hair, had gagged Dame Pranpoise, and
carried her into the kitchen, wThither Cocardasse also carried
Berichon. They fastened them both securely to the dresser,
then double locked the door upon them.
Cocardasse and Passepoil remained absolute masters of the
field.
CHAPTER XXL
two dominos.
In the Rue du Chantre the shops were closed, and most of
tlie people gone to augment the crowd at the gates of the
Palais Royal. But our gossips did not scramble in the dirt, or
brave the anger of porters and coachmen, to see the splendid
toilets of the ladies, or to gaze on grand nobles and princes.
By this time presidents were thought nothing of; ministers
were hardly noticed; ambassadors even were at a discount.
Still the crowd pressed forward, increasing every minute,
showing an anxiety that even the regent, or the young king
himself, would not have excited.
"Whom could they expect ?
The Scotchman Law, the mammon-god, who was to make
them a nation of millionaires. Mr. Law of Lauriston,now their
idol, their benefactor, whose horses worked no longer, for men
were harnessing themselves in their stead. The crowd would
have patiently waited all night to get a sight of the man,
whom a few months, later, in the same place, the populace
strove to strangle.
The Rue du Chantre was dark and deserted, and seemed
asleep, though so near the crowd and lights. Opposite the
house of Lagardere, in a dark .passage, stood immovable and
silent six men, with their eyes fixed on the door that Cocardasse
and Passepoil had entered. Two sedan-chairs were close by.
The two, after they had so happily disposed of Prancoise
and Jean Marie, looked at each other with mutual admiration.
'Well, child, you have not forgotten your trade,' said
Cocardasse.
•Nor you either,'rejoined his friend; 'we have only lost
our handkerchiefs.'
TWO DOMINOS.
115
If we have often to blame Passepoil, we must not forget bis
good points.
'Well,' said the Gascon, 'the work is over. When there
is no Lagardere in the way everything runs on wheels.'
' Thank goodness, Lagardere is far away off, sixty leagues
to the frontiers, alone.'
'Don't let us lose time; here are two other doors,' showing
the one on the landing above, and the one leading into Aurora's
room.
Passepoil stroked his chin. ' I will just put my eye to the
keyhole,' said he, going towards the latter apartment.
A terrible look from Cocardasse stopped him. ' By my soul,
I sha'n't allow it, the little beauty is at her toilet; respect
propriety.'
'Ah!' said Passepoil with a sigh, 'my noble friend, what
fine sentiments!' «
' Oh, that is my way, and you may be sure, friend, that my
society will at last cure you. The true philosopher has to
conquer his passion.'
' I am the slave of mine,' muttered Passepoil, humbly.
'A victory that costs nothing is no triumph,' exclaimed
the Gascon; 'just step up there and look round.'
Passepoil obeyed. ' Locked,' he said, as he tried Master
Louis's door.
' And the keyhole here, it is allowable.'
' Dark as pitch.'
'Well, let us consider the Prince Gonzagues' instructions.'
' He has promised us each fifty pistoles on certain con-
ditions,' and they each of them took up the parcel he had
brought. ' I wonder whether the first is absolute P' pondered
Cocardasse, in a vexed voice.
The formality rejoiced his friend. They placed their
parcels on the table. While they were speaking, the hunch-
back had opened the upper door without noise, and stood
listening to them.
' In the second place,' continued Cocardasse, ' the prince
said, " You will be sure that the sedan waits in the street." '
'Just so,' rejoined Passepoil.
'Yes,' said the Gascon, scratching his ear, 'but there are
two sedans; what do you think of that ?'
' Abundance harms not,' decided Passepoil. ' I have never
•been in a sedan.'
' Nor I; we will ride in it by turns, returning to the palace,'
' Thirdly, you will get into the house.'
'Why, here we are.'
'In the house there is a young girl.'
'Ah !' cried Passepoil, sentimentally.
8—2
116 THE DUKE'a MOTTO.
'My friend,' cried Cocardasse, sententiously, 'everyone
lias little weaknesses, but if you talk any more romance I'll
cut your ears off.'
' You .would not let me see if tlie young girl is there.'
' She is there safe enough, can't you hear ?'
A joyous laugh came from the next room.
' You will take the young girl,' went on Cocardasse, reciting
his lesson, ' or rather you will politely beg her to get into the
sedan, and have her conducted to the pavilion.'
' That is it; and I think fifty pistoles each will pay us
well for our trouble.'
The noise in the next room increased. The two comrades
started at the sound of a sharp, cracked voice close behind
them, saying,' Now is the time.' Both turned round quickly;
the little hunchback was close to the table undoing their
parcels ; he held out a suit of Jivery to Cocardasse, another
to Passepoil, saying impetuously, though in a low voice, 'Make
haste.'
They hesitated, the Gascon especially repudiated the putting
on a footman's dress, 'Capedebion!' he cried, 'whatis it toyouf
' Hush,' whispered the hunchback ; ' make haste.'
Donna Cruz's voice was now heard, saying, 'Howyou are
quite ready and only want a sedan.'
' Make haste,' repeated imperiously the little man, who at
the same moment extiftguished the lamp.
The door of Aurora's room opened, throwing a glimmer of
light over the dining-room. Cocardasse and Passepoil retired
under the stairs, to make their toilet with all speed. The
hunchback opened one of the windows, and ordered one of
the sedans to be brought up to the door. The two ladies'-maide
now passed through the room, the hunchback opening the door
for them. 'Are you ready ?' he whispered to the two swordsmen,
' Yes,' answered both.
' Then to your task.'
Donna Cruz came from the next room, saying, 'I must find
a chair, the gallant demon has forgotten that.' The hunch-
back shut the door quickly behind her ; she heard movements
near her, and called out, ' Aurora ! open the door; light me.'
Charming Donna Cruz, fearless as she was of men, had a
great dread of ghosts; she tried to return, but two rough
hairy hands prevented herj she tried to scream, but fear
choked her voice; she rushed to the other door, where two
hands less hairy but still rough stopped her again. She cried
out, but the noise in the street, which had been redoubled by
the approach of Mr. Law, prevented her screams from reach-
ing Aurora, who, like a true coquette, was admiring herself
before the glass.
TWO DOMINOS.
117
Hedged in by Cocardasse and Passepoil, poor Donna Cruz
could only escape by the street door, which opened suddenly,
a man on the outside threw a cloak over her head, and put her
into the sedan, overcome with fright.
' To the villa behind the Church Magloire,' ordered
Cocardasse. The sedan disappeared.
The friends came back, Passepoil murmuring, ' How lovely
she is ; what a happy man is Gonzagues!'
' Capedebion!' cried the Gascon,' I hope we managed that
business to a T.'
' What a sweet little hand she has,' rejoined the Norman ;
' and her waist!'
' The fifty pistoles are ours. Oh, it is all right when there
is no Lagarddre in the case,' and he looked around as if not
fully assured of what he advanced. 4 Now let us set the old
woman and the boy at liberty,' and he approached the kitchen,
when the voice of the hunchback stopped him.
'Nevermind that,' he said. 'I am pretty well satisfied
with you, my fine fellows, but your work is not over yet.'
' What a sharp voice he has,' grumbled Cocardasse; ' but it
strikes me I have heard it somewhere.'
The hunchback relighted the lamp.
'What else have we to do, Master iEsop?' asked the
Gascon ; ' that is your name, I think ?'
'iEsop, Jonas, and some others—but pay attention to my
orders.'
'Salute his Excellency, Passepoil; orders indeed!' He bowed
low, Passepoil did the same, saying with mock deference,
We wait his Excellency's commands.'
' And you do well,' said the hunchback, drily. He took
down two lanterns such as were carried of a night before
sedan chairs, and lighting them, presented one to each.
' What is this for ?' asked Cocardasse, angrily; ' we could
not overtake the chair.'
The hunchback insisted—they each of them took a lantern.
The hunchback pointed to the bedroom, ' There is a young
lady there who is finishing dressing.'
' Another ?' cried both,' the second sedan.'
' She will come forth ; you are to address her openly and
respectfully, and say, " We are here to conduct you to a ball
at the palace." '
' There was not a word of that in our instructions,' observed
Passepoil.
'And will the young lady believe us ?' asked his friend.
' She will believe you if you tell her who sent you.'
' The Prince Gonzagues ?'
' No! And add that your master will expect her at twelve
lis the duke's motto.
precisely—remember that, in the palace gardens by the statue
of Diana.'
4 Have we then two masters ? Pardieu!' cried Cocardasse.
' No, you have but one,' answered the hunchback, calmly;
' but his name is not Gonzagues.'
'And pray what is his name?' interrupted the Gascon;
' iEsop the Second ?'
' Called Jonas,' muttered the Norman.
The hunchback, who had mounted the stairs, looked at them
sternly, and saying, ' Your master is called Henry Lagardere,
and take care you do your duty,' he disappeared.
'Oh, gracious!' murmured Passepoil, ' we have seen a ghost.
Let us do our duty, noble friend.'
' Capedebion,'rejoined Cocardasse. ' No more tricks. Do
you know, I thought I recognised "
' "What, the Little Parisian ?'
'No, the young lady we put into the sedan; she is the same
I saw on his arm in Spain.'
Passepoil uttered a cry. Aurora's door was opened. ' Oh,
the young lady I saw in Flanders.'
Both comrades were awe-stricken, and lost in admiration,
as Aurora came forward, saying, ' Flora, where are you? Has
the giddy girl gone without me ?'
Cocardasse and Passepoil intent on their duty approached,
lantern in hand, bowing low, saying, ' Without you.'
Aurora gave her fan to Passepoil, her nosegay to Cocardasse;
one would have thought she had had footmen all her life.
' I am ready,' she said; ' let us go. Did he say where I
was to meet him ?'
' By the statue of Diana,' murmured Cocardasse, softly.
' At midnight,' added Passepoil.
They set off, Cocardasse and Passepoil preceding the sedan
lantern in hand.
A few minutes later a little man in black came down from
Lagardere's apartment, and crossed-the street St. Honore.
The crowd made game of his hump, but paying not the slightest
attention to their jeers, he passed round the Palais Eoyal,
and entered the Court of Fountains. In the street De Valois
was a small door which gave access to the Duke of Orleans'
private apartments. It was here that the regent transacted
business. The hunchback gave a particular knock. The door
was instantly opened, and a harsh voice called out, ' Is that
you, hunchy ? Go up at once, you are expected.'
119
CHAPTER XXII.
under the tents.
Stones have their destinies. Walls last long and see many
generations pass away. How many histories they might
disclose! How many dramas, tragedies, and comedies in real
life, have been acted within them! Little events and great
ones—smiles and tears.
A tragedy founded the Palais Royal. Armand Duplessis,
Cardinal Richelieu, a famous statesman, and infamous poet,
bought the ancient mansions of Rambouillet and Mercoeur,
and gave orders to Lemercier to build him a palace worthy of
his high fortunes. The castle of Sillery was sacrificed to
make a space in front of the noble entrance, over which were
the armorial bearings of the Duplessis, crowned by a cardinal's
hat, and a fine road was made to enable his eminence to visit
in his carriage his farm of Grange Bateliere.
The street retains its name of Richelieu, but his palace at
his death took the still higher title of the royal palace.
How this formidable priest loved theatres—he built three—
though one might have quite sufficed to represent his dear
tragedy, the idolized offspring of his own muse.
' Mirame' was acted before three thousand of the nobility,
who applauded the powerful poet who had brought about the
death of the Constable Montmorency. The next day there
was a perfect shower of madrigals and verses of all kinds in
honour of the statesman-poet, and then the cowardly applause
was hushed, and a young poet was talked about—his name was
Corneille.
Richelieu, while following the tyrannic policy of Tarquin,
and systematically cutting off heads that dared to raise them-
selves above the crowd, occupied himself with the decorations
and costumes of his three theatres. To him is given the
honour of inventing the mimic water, the gauze clouds, and
other triumphs of the scenic art; and it is said that lie
thought more of these lesser talents, including that of dressing,
than of his political renown.
Nero prided himself on his talent on the flute.
Anne of Austria and her son, Louis XIV., took possession
of the cardinal's palace much in the same manner that Henry
VIII. appropriated Hampton Court.
Mazarin, Richelieu's successor, heard under the windows of
the still new palace the fierce cries of the Eronde, and the
murmurs of the discontented populace, and he trembled
He had the east wing of the building that was afterwards
120 THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
inhabited by tbe regent Duke of Orleans, whose wife,
Henrietta of England, held a brilliant court there.
Under this regency, tbe mournful ghost of' Mirame' might
have blushed at the famous little suppers of tbe duke, to which,
as St. Simon says, very queer company was admitted; ladies
of little virtue, gentlemen of less, but noted for their wit and
debauchery. But St. Simon loved not the regent. If history
cannot hide the much-to-be-regretted weaknesses of this prince,
at least it discloses noble qualities, that even his excesses
failed to stifle. Perhaps he might have been a great man,
had it not been for the examples and counsels that poisoned
his youth.
The garden of the Palais Eoyal was in those days far more
extensive than it is at present. Then long rows of trees, cut
into the shapes of Italian porticos, surrounded the bowers,
the flower gardens, and buildings. The splendid row of
chosnut trees, planted by tbe cardinal poet, and the last of
which the tree of Cracow existed at the beginning of the
present century, was in full beauty. Two avenues of beeches
bordered the other sides. In the centre was a semicircle
enclosing a fountain; on the right and left towards the
palace were the circles of Mercury and Diana. Behind
the fountain was a hedge of linden trees, between two large
grass-plots.
The eastern wing of the palace was terminated by a gable
end, which had five windows towards the garden; these
windows looked towards the circle of Diana. The regent's
rooms were here. The palace properly so-called, besides the
state apartments, contained those of the Princess Palatine,
duchess dowager of Orleans, those of the Duchess of Orleans,
the regent's wife, and those of the Duke of Chartres. The
garden was not at this time open to tbe public, and was, as
all writers agree, a most delightful place; in which our an-
ccstors had greatly the advantage over us, as no one could
call delightful the present large square, bordered by sickly
elms, and crowded by nurses and children. Our Palais
Boyal is a fine court, but nothing of a garden. This night it
was an enchantment—a fairy palace : the regent, who had not
much taste for display, contrary to his custom, had ordered
magnificent preparations. True, it was said that good Mr.
Law paid for tbe fete. But what did it matter P How many
people think the result is everything. If Mr. Law paid the
tiddlers on his own account, he understood publicity well, and
deserved to live in our days, when a writer buys up the tour-
teen first editions of his own work, and thus succeeds in puffing
off the fifteenth; when a dentist, to gain a thousand pounds,
spends five hundred in advertisements; and a manager puts
UNDER THE TENTS.
121
three or four hundred humble friends in his theatre, to prove
to half that number of true visitors that enthusiasm is not
dead in France. The fete was his, and its aim and end was
to do honour to-his system and himself. To throw powder
into dazzled eyes, one must throw it from above. Mr. Law
sought a pedestal from which he could throw his.
We shall not speak of the saloons, decorated with unheard-
of luxury; the fete was especially in the garden, notwith-
standing the season. It was entirely under cover, and its
general decoration represented an encampment in Louisiana,
on the bank of the Mississippi, that golden river. All the
hot-houses in Paris had been laid under contribution for
exotic shrubs, tropical flowers, and fruits of this terrestrial
paradise. The lamps that hung in profusion from the trees
and columns were Indian lanterns, only the Indian tents that
were scattered about were voted too pretty.
But Law's friends went about saying, 'You have no idea
how civilized the aborigines have become.'
The rather fantastic style of the tents being allowed for,
everything else was perfection. There were distant views,
forests of canvas, terrible looking pasteboard mountains, and
cascades which foamed like soapsuds. The centre basin was
surmounted by an allegorical statue of the Mississippi, bearing
a slight resemblance to Mr. Law himself. The river-god held
an urn, from which flowed a stream of water. In the basin
itself was a construction intended to represent the dwellings
that the beavers build in the streams of North America. It
was around this statue of the Mississippi that the most famous
dancers of the time, La Nivelle, Duphant, Hernoun, &c.,
besides five hundred of inferior note, were to dance the Indian
ballet. The intimate friends of the regent had laughed at
this ; it had amused the duke also, but no one had made such
game of it as Mr. Law himself. The saloons were already
crowded; Bressac had opened the ball with the Marchioness
of Toulouse, the gardens were full, and gambling was going
on under ail the Indian tents. Notwithstanding the pickets
of guards, under the guise of savages, posted at all the doors
of the neighbouring houses, many a suspicious looking domino
had slipped in.
There was an immense clamour, a moving, joyful crowd
bent on amusement. Still the kings of the fSte had not yet
appeared-r-neither the regent, the princesses, nor Mr. Law.
Expectation was at its acme.
In a wigwam of crimson velvet ornamented with gold
fringes, where the chiefs of the great river would -willingly
have smoked the pipe of peace, were several card-tables.
This wigwam was near the circle of Diana, almost under the
122
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
windows of the regent's apartments. Here a large party Lad
assembled. Around a marble table covered with net-work,
noisy gaming was going on. * Gold was thrown about in hand-
fuls, amid much mirth and laughter. At this table were
grouped the handsome little Marquis Chaverny, Choissy,
Navailles, and others, also Master Pey rolles, who was gaining, it
was a habit he had, although his cards were always watched:
but under the regent cheating at cards as well as in other things
was considered no great crime. ' Fifty louis,' ' a hundred,'
' two hundred,' three hundred,' resounded on all sides, also not
a few oaths from the losers mingled with the triumphant
laughter of those who had won. IS ear the tables, of course all
faces were uncovered, while in the walks, on the contrary,
there were many masks and dominos.
At a little distance from this noisy group, a few old gentle-
men were having a quiet game.
' Are you gaining, Chaverny?' said a little blue domino,
who put her hooded head into the entrance of the tent.
Chaverny threw the few pieces remaining in his purse on
the table.
' Cidalise, nymph of the forests, come to our aid!' cried
Gironne.
Another domino appeared behind- the first—' What do you
wish ?'
' Nothing personal, my dear, we are gambling away forests.'
'Well, then,' said the dancer, Debois Duphant, coming in.
Cidalise gave her purse to Gironne.
One of the old gentlemen at the whist-table gave a look of
disgust.
' It was so in our time, Baron Brabanchois,' said his neigh-
' bour.
' Everything now-a-days, Mr. La Hunaudaye, is spoilt, per-
verted, abused, degenerated, ruined, polluted.'
Then they sang in chorus—' WThat are we coming to,
baron ? WThat are we coming to ?'
The Baron of Brabanchois seized one of the agate buttons
on the coat of his friend, the Baron of La Hunaudaye, and
whispered, 'Who are these people?'
' I was going to ask you, sir.'
'Your game, Taranne!' cried out Montaubert.
' Taranne,' muttered the Baron of Brabanchois, ' is not the
name of a man but of a street. Your turn Aow, Albret.'
' Why, that is the name of Henry IY.'s mother,' said the
Baron La Hunaudaye. ' Where do they fish their names
from, I wonder?'
' Where Bichon, the baroness's spaniel, got his,' answered
Brabanchois, taking out his snuff-box.
UNDER THE TENTS.
123
Cidalise, who was passing, impudently thrust in her two
fingers—' It is very good,' said the opera-dancer.
' Madam,' returned the baron, gravely, ' I do not like
mingling, he so good as to accept the box.'
Cidalise, so very abashed, took the box, and touched with a
caressing air the chin of the indignant old gentleman. Then
she pirouetted away.
'What are we doming to?' repeated Brabanchois, suffb-
eating with rage. ' What would the late king say, if he were
to know of such things V
' Lost again, Chaverny, lost again!'
' Never mind, I have got back my estate Chaneilles.'
'His father was a noble soldier,' said Brabanchois. 'Who
does he belong to ?'
' To the Prince of Gonzagues.'
' Heaven keep us from Italians! Are the Germans any
better ?—a Count de Horn broken on the wheel for murder.'
' A relation of his royal highness—What are we coming to ?'
' I tell you, baron, we shall finish by murders in the street
in mid-day.'
' Oh, sir, we have that already. Have you not heard the
news P Yesterday a woman murdered near the temple.'
' This morning a clerk of the Treasury taken out of the
Seine at the Bridge Notre Dame, for having spoken against
that vile Scotchman,' said Brabanchois, in a low voice.
' Hush!' cried LaHunaudaye, 'that is the eleventh in eight
days.'
' Oriol! Oriol! to the rescue,' cried all the gamblers.
The stout little stockbroker appeared at the entrance of the
tent. He wore a mask, and his costume was grotesquely
splendid; his dancing had excited much laughter at the ball.
'How wonderful!' he said; ' everybody knows me.'
'There are not two Oriols,' criedNavailles.
'These ladies find one enough,' added Noce.
'Jealous,' cried all, laughing.
' Gentlemen, have you seen Nivelle?' asked Oriol.
' Our poor friend has solicited for eight months in vain the
post of buffoon and treasurer to our dear Nivelle,' declaimed
Gironne.
' Have you been to the herald's office, Oriol ?'
' Have you got your parchments yet ?'
' Oriol! have you decided which ancestor you shall send to
the crusades ?'
And bursts of laughter arose on all sides. Brabanchois held
up his hands.
' To think of gentlemen making a mockery of such sacred
things, baron !' cried his friend. ' What are we coming to ?'
124
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
' Peyrolles!' said Oriol, advancing to the table, ' I wager you
fifty louis, but turn up your sleeves.'
' What do you say V answered Gonzagues' factotum. ' I
only joke with my equals, my little gentleman !'
Chaverny pointed to the footmen on the steps before the
palace—' Those knaves look rather tired there ; go and fetch
them, Taranne, that honest Master Peyrolles may have some
one to joke with.'
The factotum turned a deaf ear, and contented himself with
gaining Oriol's fifty louis.
' And nothing but paper-money,' said the old Brabanchois.
' Our pensions also are paid in notes, even our rents.'
' Gold is getting scarce; I warn you, baron, some ca-
tastrophe is near.'
' Yes, my friend, that is certain—the baroness says so.'
' Do you know the news—the grand news ?' cried Oriol, in
a loud voice.
' No. What is it ?—what is it ?'
' if you guessed a thousand things, you would never hit it.'
' Mr. Law has turned Catholic,' cried one; ' The Duchess
of Berri drinks water,' said another; ' The Duke of Maine
has accepted an invitation to the regent's fete," and a hun-
drcd other impossibilities were guessed.
' You are wrong, all wrong, my friends—you will never
guess. The Princess of Gonzagues, the inconsolable widow,
Artemisa, devoted to eternal mourning '
At the name of the princess the old gentlemen listened
attentively.
' Well,' continued Oriol, ' this Artemisa of modern times
has drank up all her tears for Mausoleus, and is here at the
ball to-night.'
All cried out, 'Impossible!'
' I have seen her,' persisted Oriol, ' sitting with the Princess
Palatine. But I have seen something more extraordinary
still.'
' What can it be ?' cried every one.
Oriol cleared his throat. It was his turn now. ' I saw—
and I am wide awake and in my right senses—I saw, I say,
the Prince Gonzagues refused admittance to the regent.'
A dead silence. All around the gambling-table were inte-
rested, for all expected their fortunes from Gonzagues.
' What is there surprising in that ?' asked Peyrolles; ' the
affairs of state '
' At this time of day the regent is not busy in state affairs.'
'Nevertheless, if an ambassador '
' His highness was not with an ambassador.'
' If some new fancy '
THE SECRET INTERVIEW.
125
' His highness was not with a lady.'
General curiosity increased.
' But who was with his royal highness ?'
' That is what every one asked,' continued Oriol. ' Gon-
zagues himself was not in the best of humours.'
'And what was the answer?' asked Navailles.
' All a mystery, gentlemen. The regent has looked dull
ever since he received a certain paper from Spain; and he
gave orders to-day that a person should be admitted whom
none of his servants, except Blondeau, ever remember to
have seen before—a little man in black, a hunchback.'
4 A hunchback !' cried they all—' there is nothing but
hunchbacks.'
' The regent shut himself up with him, and Lafare, Brissac
—even theDuchess of Phalaris herself—found the door closed.'
Another silence. Through the opening of the tent could
be seen the regent's windows lighted up. Oriol happened to
look in that direction. ' Look, look!' he said—'there they
are together still!'
All eyes were turned towards the pavilion. On the white
curtains could be seen distinctly the shadow of the regent.
He was walking. Another shadow, indistinctly marked,
seemed to accompany him. It was only for an instant thq
two shadows had passed the window. As they returned, the
regent's shadow was vague; that of his companion was
clearly defined—a hunchback, who gesticulated vehemently.
CHAPTER XXIII.
the secret interview.
The two shadows were not again visible on the curtains.
The prince had seated himself; the hunchback stood before
him in a respectful yet firm attitude. There were two en-
trances into the regent's apartments, one public into the
large anteroom, the two others private, one of which was kept
by an old lady who had been an opera-singer, the other by
Le Breant, who had been groom to the regent, whose voice
we heard at the end of the dark passage when the hunchback
entered by the Court of Fountains.
It was expected the regent was alone and uneasy.
The regent was still in his dressing-gown, though the fete
had been a long time begun. His hair, which was rich and
abundant, was still in curl-papers, and he wore a particular
kind of gloves to preserve the whiteness of his hands. His
mother, in her Memoirs, says he inherited this excessive
126
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
care of his person from his father, who was even to his latter
years as particular as any coquette.
The regent was about five-and-forty, hut looked older from
the worn expression of his features. He was handsome not-
withstanding; his features were noble and engaging, his eyes
were of feminine softness, and showed kindness almost to a
fault; his figure slightly stooping, except in company. His
lips and cheeks had the effeminacy peculiar to the Orleans
family. The Princess Palatine, his mother, had imparted to
him some of her German good-humour and ready wit, but
she had kept the best part herself.
Upon certain constitutions debauchery leaves few traces.
Men of iron may drink with impunity. Louis of Orleans was
not of the number, and his face and figure already bore traces
of his intemperance, and one could easily prognosticate that
death lurked not far distant in a bottle of champagne.
The hunchback was introduced.
'"Was it you who wrote to me from Spain?' asked the
regent, eyeing him from head to foot.
' No, sire,' replied the hunchback, respectfully.
' And from Brussels ?'
'No.' '
' Nor from Paris ?'
' Neither.'
The regent looked at him again. ' It struck me as curious
you should be Lagardere.'
The hunchback bowed with a deprecating smile.
' I did not allude to what you imagined. I have never
seen Lagardere,' said the regent, with kind seriousness.
' Sire,' replied the hunchback, still smiling, 'he was called
handsome Lagardere when he was in the light cavalry of your
royal uncle. I could never have been handsome, or in tie
light cavalry.'
' What is your name ?'
' Master Louis, at home; abroad, people like myself have
generally a nickname.'
' Where do you live ?'
' At a distance.'
' That is to say, you would rather not tell ?'
'Yes, your highness.'
Philip of Orleans looked at him severely. 'I have a clever
police who can easily learn.'
'As your highness makes a point of knowing, I live in tie
palace of the Prince G-onzagues.'
' In his palace ?' repeated the regent, astonished.
The hunchback bowed.
' It is a verv long time ago that I first heard Lagardere
THE SECRET INTERVIEW.
127
spoken of,' said the regent, thoughtfully; 'he used to he an
impudent bully.'
' He has done his best to expiate his follies.'
' What are you to him ?'
'Nothing—yet all: he has no friends.'
' Why did he not come himself?'
' Because he could make use of me,'
' If I wished to see him, where should I find him ?'
' I cannot answer your highness's question. Nevertheless,
you, sir, have a clever police—try.'
'Do you say that in defiance, sirP'
' Only, your royal highness, as a threat. An hour hence,
Lagardere can be out of your reach, and the step he has now
taken he will never renew.'
' He has taken it now, then, against his will ?'
' Yes, sir, unwillingly.'
' Why ?'
' Because the happiness of his whole life is staked on this
step, which he need not have taken.'
' And what forced him to take it ?'
'An oath.'
'Made to whom?'
' To a dying man.'
'And this man was called '
'You knew him well, your highness. It was Philip, Duke
of Nevers.'
The regent covered his face. ' It is nearly twenty years,'
he murmured in a mournful tone, ' but I have never forgotten
him. How dearly I loved him! Since his death I have never
clasped the hand of a true friend.'
The hunchback looked at him with emotion.
The duke recovered himself, and said, calmly—' I was a
near relation of the Duke of Nevers. As prince and as his
cousin, I owe protection to his widow, who is besides the wife
of one of my dearest friends. If her daughter yet lives, I
promise that she shall be a rich heiress, and marry a prince
if she likes. In regard to the murder of my poor Philip,
when I heard of his death, I took an oath, and I will keep it,
though it is said that I have but one virtue, that of forgetting
injuries; and now that I govern the State, vengeance will be
no more than simple justice.'
The hunchback bowed in silence.
The duke continued—' There are still several things that I
wish to learn. How is it that Lagardere was so long before
he addressed himself to me ?'
' Because he wished, before he gave up his guardianship,
that his ward should be grown up, and able to know her friends
from her foes.'
128
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
' He lias proofs of what lie states ?'
' He Las, all except one.'
'"Whatis that ?'
' The proof that could confound the murderer.'
' Then he knows the murderer ?'
' He believes he knows him, he has a mark by which he
could verify his suspicions.'
' And this mark would be proof?'
' Your highness shall judge shortly. In regard to the birth,
and identity of the young lady, everything is complete.'
The regent considered a moment, then said, ' What oath
had Lagardere taken ?'
' To be a father to the child.' ^
'Then he must have been present at his death?'
' He was. Hevers in his last moments confided to him the
guardianship of his child.'
' Hid Lagardere draw his sword to defend Nevers ?'
' He did what he could. After the duke's death he carped
off the child, though twenty swords were against him.'
' I know that he is a famous swordsman; but your answers
are very mysterious. How can it be, as you say, that he only
suspects the murderer ?'
' It was a dark night, and he was masked; he struck from
behind.'
' Then it was the master himself who dealt the death-blow?'
' It was the master; the duke fell, crying out to him—
" Friend, avenge my death." '
' It was not, then, the Marquis of Caylus p'
' The marquis has been dead many years,' replied the hunch-
back ; ' FTevers' assassin still lives. Your highness has only to
say the word, and Lagardere promises to show him to you to-
night.'
* Then,' said the regent quickly, 'Lagardere is in Paris?'
The hunchback bit his lip.
'If he is in Paris, he is mine.' He rang. 'Desire Mon-
sieur Machault to come to me at once.'
The hunchback recovered himself, and said, looking at his
watch—' Sir, Lagardere is now waiting for me outside of
Taris ; where, I will not say, if you put me on the rack. It
is now eleven ; if he does not receive a message from me in
half an hour, he will set off for the frontiers—your police will
not be able to catch him.'
'You shall be hostage for him, then,' cried the regent.
' Oh! as regards me, sir,' said the hunchback, smiling, 'if
you desire to keep me prisoner, I am in your power,' and he
crossed his arms over his bosom.
The superintendent of police entered. He was dim-sighted,
THE SECRET INTERVIEW.
129
and not observing tbe hunchback, began before he was ques-
tioned—-'There is something new, your royal highness ; you
can no longer show clemency in the case. I hold the -proof
of their secret concert with Alberoni. There are Cellamare,
Villeroy, Villars, all in the plot with the Duke and Duchess
of Maine.'
'Silence!' cried the regent, who did not speak for several
minutes, but secretly observed the hunchback, u ho stood firm
and composed. ' Machault,' he said at last, ' it was precisely
about Cellamare and the others that I wished to speak to you.
"Wait for me, if you please, in the next room.'
Machault looked through his glass with evident curiosity at
the hunchback; as he left the room, the duke added—
' I request you to send me a pass, ready sealed and signed.'
The superintendent again examined the hunchback.
The prince could no longer keep serious—' Why the devil
do they put blind people at the head of the police ?' Then
added, ' This Lagardere makes treaties with me; he has pro-
bably some interested motive in view.'
'Your highness is mistaken, Lagardere requires nothing;
it would not be in the power even of the regent of France to
reward him.'
' Indeed!'said the duke. 'We really must see this ro-
mantic personage; he will have famous success at court, and
set the fashion again of knight-errantry. How long shall we
have to wait ?'
' Two hours.'
'All the better; he will form an interlude between the
Indian ballet and the supper, though he Is not in the pro-
gramme.'
A servant entered, bringing the pass signed by the Minister
Le Blanc and Machault.
The regent himself filled up the paper—' Monsieur de
Lagardere,' he said, ' has not committed unpardonable crimes.
The late king was severe upon duelling, and he was right.
But, fortunately, manners have altered since then, and
swords keep better in their scabbards now. Lagardere's
pardon shall be registered to-morrow, and here is his safe-
conduct. You will warn your friend that any violence on his
part will cancel the efficiency of this parchment.'
' The time of violence is past,' said the hunchback, solemnly.
' What do you mean, sir ?'
' That two days since Lagardere could not have accepted
this clause.'
' Wherefore ?' said the duke, hastily.
' Because he had sworn to avenge Heveis.'
' Go on,' said the regent.
9
130
THE DUKE S MOTTO.
' Lagardere,' said the hunchback, slowly, ' when he carried
off the child, said to the murderers, " You shall all die by my
hand." He knew seven of them, those are dead.'
' By*his hand ?' said the duke, turning pale.
The hunchback bowed.
* And the two others ?' asked the regent.
The hunchback paused, then replied, 'There are some
heads so high, your highness, that kings and governors do not
like them to fall on the scaffold. The noise that their fall
makes shakes the State. Lagardere gives your highness the
choice, he desired me to tell you so. The eighth murderer is
only a servant, the ninth is the master—that man must die. If
your highness object to the headsman, let this man and La-
gardere draw their swords on each other.'
' The cause is just,' said the regent, offering the parchment.
' I do this in memory of my dear Philip, and if Lagardere
needs help——'
'Lagardere,' answered the hunchback, 'desires only one
thing from your highness.'
'What is thatP'
' Secrecy—one word might be fatal.'
' I shall be mute.'
The hunchback bowed profoundly and withdrew.
'Did you get what you wanted, little friend?' said Le
Breant, when he saw him return.
' Yes; but now I want to see the fete,' and he slid a louis
into his hand.
' My goodness, what a famous dancer,' cried the other.
' Moreover,' said the hunchback, ' I want the key of your
lodge in the garden,' and he slid a double louis into his hand.
' What strange fancies the little fellow has. Here is
the key.'
'And I want you, besides, to carry into your lodge the
parcel that I left with you this morning.'
' And will there be another double louis for that ?'
' Yes, two.'
'Bravo! what a generous little fellow. It must be for an
assignation.'
' Perhaps,' answered the hunchback, smiling.
' If I were a woman I should love you in spite of your
hump, you are so generous. But,' said the old man, 'you
must have a card to get in, those guards on duty don't under-
stand a joke.'
' I have mine in my pocket, only bring me the parcel.'
' Directly, my little friend. Take that passage, turn to the
right, the landing is lighted, and go down the steps. Amuse
j'ourself, and good-luck to you,'
131
CHAPTER XXIV.
A GAME OF CARDS.
In the garden the crowd was still increasing. It was espe-
cially great near the statue of Diana, which bordered on the
prince regent's apartments. Every one wished to know why
he kept people waiting. "We will not waste much time on
conspiracies. The intrigues of the Duke and Duchess of
Maine, of Villeroy, and the Spanish embassy, though fer-
tile in dramatic incidents, belong not to our story. It is
sufficient to remark in passing, that the regent was sur-
rounded with enemies. The Parliament both hated and
despised him, the clergy were generally hostile to him, the
old generals of the army felt only disdain for his good-
humoured policy, and even from certain members of his own
council he met with continual opposition.
Still one must allow that the financial display of late had
been of immense advantage in turning away from him general
animadversion. Personally none but Madame de Monte-
span's children, whom Louis XIV. had legitimized, could
have any strong feeling against a prince of the neuter gender,
who had not a grain of wickedness in his disposition, but
whose kindness bordered upon indifference. One only de-
tests those for whom one might have felt a strong affection.
Philip of Orleans had many boon companions, but no friends.
Law's bank bought the favour of princes. It is a hard word
to say, but history confirms the fact. The princes once
bought, the duke followed, and Madame de Montespan's
children, who had been legitimized, remained alone. Among
the number of writers who condemn, probably on too just
grounds, the regent, Duclos, in'his secret memoirs, speaks of
him with the greatest impartiality, and it is evidently his
opinion that the duke could never have kept his position had
it not been for Law's bank.
The young Xing Louis XV. was adored. His education
was confided to people who were hostile to the regent; for
even the indifferent public trusted little to the probity of
the duke, and feared that the great-grandchild of Louis XIV.
might die prematurely, as his father and grandfather had done.
At first the Duke of Orleans treated all attacks against
him with carelessness and disdain. Soft earth makes the
best resistance to cannon, and a mattress a better defence
than a metal shield. The duke slept behind his mattress.
When he was forced to show himself he did so, and there
being little courage or firmness among his enemies, his pre-
sence alone intimidated them.
9—2
132 the dxjke's motto.
At this time of our story the regent still remained quiet,
though clamours were heard on all sides against him, even
under his window and in his owp palace ; and it is too true
he gave but too much cause for scandal. His private life was
detestable. Under his government France was a large dis-
masted ship towed by another vessel. That other vessel was
England.
If this night in the gardens of the Palais Royal there was
some enthusiasm, founded on the apparent success of Law's
bank, still there was much discontent among politicians,
financiers, moralists, and old people. In this last class, com-
posed of those who had been young and brilliant under
Louis XIV., were the barons of La Hunaudaye and Braban-
chois, who consoled themselves with the reflection that in their
day ladies were more beautiful, men more witty, the sky of a
finer blue, the wind less cold, wine far better, servants more
faithful, and chimneys less given to smoking. Still at this
fete the gay, brilliant crowd thought little of politics. The
grand people were now beginning to assemble. The Duke of
Bourbon led in the Princess of Conti, the Chancellor d'Agues-
seau the Princess Palatine, and the Abbe Dubois was paying
his court to the English ambassador, Lord Stairs.
A rumour now arose which for a moment caused to be for-
gotten even the delay of the regent and the absence of Mr.
Law himself. It was the arrival of Peter the Great of Russia,
under the charge of the Eield-Marshal Tesse and a guard of
thirty men, who were charged never to leave him. No easy
task, as the Muscovite emperor's movements were rapid and
his freaks sudden. He had come to France to learn the art
of government, and other things.
The regent, who- no doubt would fain have avoided this
terrible visit, yet treated him with splendid courtesy. But
Parisian curiosity, highly excited by the arrival of the bar-
barous monarch, had not yet had time to appease itself, for
the hing brooked no interference, and when the people
crowded round his palace, ordered his guards to-charge them.
The poor field marshal would rather have made ten campaigns
than undertake such a charge. The regent had wished to
dazzle the czar by the magnificence of his hospitality, but the
czar would not be dazzled. In the splendid bedroom that
had been prepared for him he ordered a camp bedstead to be
brought, and slept thereon. He entered the shops and talked
familiarly with the people; but he was incognito, and Pari-
sian curiosity was at fault. The privileged few who had
seen him said that he was tall, well made, rather thin, dark,
with large vivacious eyes, piercing and sometimes savage.
Occasionally a nervous convulsion passed over his features,
A GAME OP CARDS.
133
altering entirely tlieir expression. This peculiarity was attri-
huted to the poison that the groom-in-waiting, Zoubow, had
given him in his childhood. When he chose, it is said, his
deportment was gracious, even agreeable.
When it was known that the czar was at the ball, there
was great crowding to get sight of him ; but this excitement
little troubled our gamblers under the Indian tent; not one
had given up gold, and banknotes continued to change hands.
Peyrolles held a splendid hand, and also the pool. Chaverny,
rather pale, still tried to laugh.
4 Ten thousand crowns!' cried out Peyrolles.
4 I accept,' answered Chaverny.
4 With what ?' asked Navailles.
4 On my note of hand.'
4 That is not the way to play at the regent's,' said the Duke of
Tresmes; and he added, disdainfully,4 a real gambling-house.'
4 On which you have no tithe, duke,' answered Chaverny,
with a bow.
A general laugh arose at the expense of Monsieur de Tresmes,
who, being governor of Paris, had a tenth of the profits on all
gambling-houses, and was said to hold one himself—nothing
derogatory at that time, when the palace of the Princess
Carignan was said to be the most dangerous hell in Paris.
'Ten thousand crowns !' repeated Peyrolles.
41 take it,' cried a rough voice in the crowd, and a shower
of notes fell on the table. No one knew the voice, and turned
to look at the speaker. He was a bold, tall fellow, with a
round unpowdered wig, and plain linen collar and ruffles. His
dress contrasted strangely with the rich elegance of his neigh-
hours. He wore a doublet of thick maroon cloth, with grey
trousers, and large clumsy boots of greasy leather. Around
his waist was a band which held a seaman's cutlass. He
looked a true corsair.
In one deal Peyrolles had gained the ten thousand crowns.
4 Double,' cried the stranger.
A fresh shower of notes. Some corsairs have heavy purses.
Peyrolles gained again.
4 Double,' cried his antagonist, angrily.
Peyrolles accepted, and was again successful.
4 Double,' still called out the corsair.
4 You must be very rich, sir,' said Peyrolles.
The man with the cutlass answered not, but threw the
money on the table.
4 Peyrolles has gained again,' cried all around.
4 Double still,' persisted the stranger.
4 Bravo!' cried Chaverny; 4 he is a bold player.'
The stranger unceremoniously thrust aside those near him,
134
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
and placed himself at tlie table close to Peyrolles. The
factotum was again successful.
' Enough,' cried the man with the cutlass; and added,
coldly, e Mate way there,' at the same moment drawing his
sword, and seizing Peyrolles by the ear.
' "VYhat are you about ?' cried all around.
'Don't you perceive,' replied the stranger, coolly, 'the
man is a knave ?'
Peyrolles tried to draw his sword. He was as pale as death.
The man with the cutlass was no trifler, and knew how to
use .his weapon. A well-executed and rapid thrust made the
spectators draw back. A sharp, well-directed blow broke
Peyrolles' sword in two.
' If you stir I'll not answer for your life; if you are still, I
shall only cut 3rour cars off.'
Peyrolles uttered stifled cries, and offered to give back the
money. A crowd encompassed them. The stranger, using
his weapon as a razor, was about calmly to begin the surgical
operation, when a great tumult was heard at the entrance of
the tent.
The Prince Kourakine, Eussian ambassador at the Prench
court, rushed impetuously into the tent, his face bathed in
perspiration, his hair and clothes in disorder. Behind him
Eieh[-Marshal Tess6, followed by his thirty guards.
' Your highness, stop—in Leaven's name stop!' cried out the
general and the prince at once.
The stranger calmly turned round, while the general threw
himself between him and his victim, but he did not touch
him, only bowed profoundly.
Then people were aware that the tall fellow with the
maroon doublet was no other than the Emperor of Eussia.
He slightly knitted his brow, and said to Tesse,' "What do
you want with me ? I am only doing justice.'
Prince Kourakine whispered a few words in his ear.
He let go of Peyrolles, slightly reddened, and said with a
smile, ' Yon are right. I am not at home here. I had for-
gotten.' He saluted with his hand the wonder-struck crowd
with a haughty grace that did not sit ill upon him, and left
the tent followed by his guards. They were accustomed to
his tricks, and passed all their time in running after him.
Those not interested in the gambling followed the czar,
wbo soon escaped from them, and leaving the palace at once,
and jumping into the first carriage he could find, went off
to his three bottles at a sitting.
Havailles took the cards out of Peyrolles' hands, and gently
pushed him out of the circle.
' Gentlemen,' cried JNTocA arriving in violent haste, ' leave
SOUVENIRS OF THE THREE PHILIPS.
135
your cards ; you are playing over a volcano. Tlie chief of
the police has discovered three dozen conspiracies that would
shame Catiline's. The regent, alarmed, has been shut up
with a little man in black to be told his fortune.'
' Oh, then, the little man in black is a fortune-teller ?'
'Yes, indeed. He predicted to the regent that Mr. Law
would be drowned in the Mississippi, and that the Duchess
de Berri would marry that fool Riom.'
' Hush, hush!' cried the most prudent. The others
laughed.
'Oh, everybody talks of it,' continued Noce, 'and the
little black man also predicted that Dubois would be made
a cardinal.'
' A likely thing,' said Peyrolles.
'And that Master Peyrolles,' added Noce, 'would become
an honest man before he dies.'
An explosion of laughter. Every one left the table, and
crowded to the entrance of the tent, for Noc'e had cried out,
' Look, look! the little man himself.'
Every one saw him slowly descend the steps of the pavilion.
The guards stopped him at the bottom. The little hunch-
back showed his card, smiled, and passed on.
The hunchback had an eyeglass in his hand, and looked at the
decorations of the f§te like a true amateur. He bowed with
much politeness to the ladies, and seemed to chuckle to him-
self. He had on a black velvet mask. As he advanced, our
gamblers eyed him with great attention; but the one who
ob Dlles.
like——'
' Who ?' said Oriol, who was short-sighted.
' Oh, the man of ten thousand crowns, who took the dog's
corner.'
' Impossible!' cried Oriol. ' Such a fellow with the regent!'
The little man continued to advance. He looked through
his glass ; he smiled; he bowed. Never was a more polite,
or better-tempered hunchback. As he drew nearer they
could hear him muttering to himself, ' Charming, delight ul!
No one but his royal highness could do such things. Ah! I
am pleased to have seen all this, very pleased.'
In the interior of the tent voices were heard. Another
CHAPTER XXV.
souvenirs of the three philips.
Chaverny. 'But it looks
136
the duke s motto.
party had taken the places of our gamblers. These latter
were older, graver, and of higher title. One of them said,
'What has happened I know not, but I have just seea
Bonnivet, who was doubling the patrol by the regent's order.'
' And the regent is not to be spoken to ?'
' Machault is gone distracted.'
' The Prince Gonzagues himself could not get a word from
him.'
Our gamblers continued to listen, but the new comers
lowered their voices.
' Something is going to happen,' cried Chaverny; ' I hare
a presentiment.'
e Ask the fortune-teller,' said Noce.
The little man bowed amiably, and asked, 'What? some-
thing going to happen—something extraordinary ! He! he!
he !' and, giving to his cracked voice an almost unearthly
tone, he continued, ' I am come from a very hot place, gen-
tleinen; I shiver with cold. Pray allow me to enter the tent.'
There was a slight shudder. All eyes were fixed on the
hunchback, who slid into the tent with many bows. When
he saw the noblemen now seated round the table, he shook his
head, and with a pleased air.
' Yes, something is wrong. The regent looks anxious, the
guard is doubled, but no one knows what it is—not the
governor of Paris, not even the superintendent of police.'
'Do you know, Count de Eohan? Or you, Baron de
Senneterre?'
No one answered. Both gentlemen took off their masks,
always intended as the most polite manner of requesting a
stranger to unmask.
The hunchback bowed, and laughingly said, ' Gentlemen,
it would be useless—}tou have never seen me. Gentlemen,
you might guess for ever, but you could never find out. It
has nothing to do with the affairs that occupy your public
interests or your private thoughts. It concerns not the secret
machinations of Spain or the troubles of France, neither the
ill-humour of the parliament, or the eclipses that Mr. Law
has so much faith in. Nevertheless, the regent is anxious,
the guard is doubled.'
' What is it about, then, beau mask ?' asked the Count de
Eohan.
The hunchback paused a moment, then answered, ' Do you
believe in ghosts ? Of winter evenings, in the old hall of an
ancient castle, when the windows rattle in the storm, and the
heavy old panelings and dark gilt frames absorb the light
around the large, old-fashioned hearth, it is easy to scare
peoplo. The castle itself has, without doubt, some mysterious,
SOUVENIRS OF THE THREE PHILIPS.
137
awful legend connected witli it. Every one knows that along
such a passage the old count, dead a hundred years ago, still
drags his chain, and enters such a chamber as the clock strikes
twelve, and sits"shivering by the tireless hearth. But here,
in the Palais Eoyal, under the Indian tent, in the midst of
the fete of Mammon, surrounded by gaiety and laughter,
close to the gambling-table—is this a place for those vague
terrors that sometimes seize upon the bravest, the strongest
minds?'
Nevertheless, a cold shiver was felt by all who heard that
cracked, shrill voice, notwithstanding the joyous buzz of the
gardens, the brilliant lights, and the soft harmony that filled
the air.
'He! he!' continued the hunchback, 'who believes in
ghosts at noon and in the streets P But at midnight, in the
solitary chamber, especially if the night-light be gone out.
There is a flower that opens in the night—conscience is that
flower of the stars. Do not alarm yourselves, gentlemen—I
am not a ghost.'
' Will you be so good as to explain yourself—yes or no,
beau mask ?' said the Duke deBohan, rising.
'We are neither of us handsome, duke, so a truce to com-
pliments. He ! he! This belongs to another world—a dead
man, who after twenty years reveals the mysteries of the
tomb. He was a gallant gentleman, a noble prince, young,
brave, rich, happy, beloved—an angel's face with the figure
of a hero.''
' Whom can he mean ?' cried Chaverny.
' I do not address you, marquis,' replied the little man;
'you were too young to know anything of events that hap-
pened twenty years ago. I speak to men with grey hairs—•
to you, Count La Hunaudaye, who would have now been
lying in your grave in Flanders, had he not cleft the skull
of the soldier who was upon you!'
The old baron was too much astonished to say a word.
' I address you, Count Marillac, whose daughter took the
veil on his account. You, Duke de Eohan, who on his
arrival had your castle of Senneterre barricaded. You, Mon-
sieur Yauguyon, who cannot have forgotten that "cut on the
right shoulder.'
'Nevers !' cried twenty voices at once.
The hunchback took off his hat, and pronounced solemnly
—'Yes, Philip of Lorraine, Duke of Nevers, assassinated
under the walls of the castle of Caylus the 21st of November,
1697.'
' Stabbed from behind, as it is said,' murmured Monsieur
de Yauguyon.
138
THIJ DUKE'S MOTTO.
' In ambush,' added La Ferte.
4 And if I am not mistaken,5 said the Luke de Bohan, 'the
Marquis of Caylus, the father of the Princess Gonzagues,
was suspected.'
'I have heard my father mention that,' said Navailles.
4 My father was the Luke of Nevers' intimate friend,' added
Chaverny.
Peyrolles listened, but tried to elude observation.
The hunchback continued in a severe tone, ' Stabbed in a
most cowardly manner, from behind, in ambush—that is all
true ; but the murderer was not the Marquis of Caylus.'
4 "Who was it, then ?' asked many voices.
Put the little man answered not. He continued in his
sneering tone, ' It made a great noise at the time, gentlemen.
For a week nothing else was spoken of; but by the end of a
month, the name of Hevers was almost forgotten.'
* His royal highness,' interrupted the Duke de Fohan—
4 yes, his royal highness, one of the three Philips, did all he
could to avenge his best friend. But what could he do ? The
castle of Caylus is so far off. That dreadful night kept the
fearful secret. Of course the Prince Gonzagues But
is there not here a worthy dependent of the prince, named
Peyrolles ?'
Oriol and Nocd stood aside to allow the disconcerted Pey-
rolles to be seen.
* I was going to add,' continued the hunchback, 4 that of
course the Prince Gonzagues, also one of the three Philips,
moved heaven and earth to avenge his friend. Still all was
useless. Ho proof—not the slightest clue. So, perforce, it
was left to time, or rather to heaven, to discover the
murderer.'
Peyrolles had but one desire—to slip away to warn Gon-
zagues — still he remained to see how far the hunchback
would carry his audacity. On hearing the events of that
night again brought forward, Peyrolles felt as if he were
being strangled.
The hunchback was right. The court has no memory. A
man dead for twenty years is twenty times forgotten. Still
this was an exceptional case, and to see the interest awakened
in every countenance, one might have fancied the murder had
been committed only yesterday. Had it been the desire of
the little man to reawaken an interest in this sad and mys-
terious drama, he had succeeded perfectly.
4 He! he!' he cried, giving a piercing and rapid glance
around; 4 trust to Heaven as a last resource. Yet many
wise men have done so. In heaven there are better eyes
eyen than those of the police. Heaven is patient. Some-
SOUVENIRS OF THE THREE PHILIPS.
139
times days, months, years pass; but when the time
comes '
He stopped. His voice vibrated strangely, and the menace
implied in his sharp words was felt by each of his hearers as
if directed against himself. One alone was guilty—Peyrolles
—yet all Gonzagues' allies, though too young to have been
even suspected, trembled.
' When the hour is come,' continued the hunchback—' and
come it will, sooner or later—a man, like a messenger from
the tomb, comes. If he is strong, he^ strikes; if his arm, like
mine, is too weak to hold the sword, he creeps, he crawls,
until his humble voice can reach the ear of princes ; then at
the given hour the avenger hears the name of the assassin.'
'What name?' asked the Duke of Eohan.
* Do we know him?' cried Chaverny and Navailles.
The hunchback seemed excited by his own words—' What
matters it if you know him or not ? The name of the as-
sassin would astound you. But even now a voice as if from
the clouds has said, '' Prince, in that gilded crowd is the
assassin; he sat at your table yesterday, perhaps he will sit
there again to-morrow. Prince, every night and morning
the assassin offers you his bloody hand;" and the prince said.,
" By Heaven! justice shall be done." '
It was strange, but all the most distinguished nobles looked
distrustfully at each other.
' This is the reason, gentlemen,' continued the sharp voice
of the hunchback, ' that the regent of France looks sad to-
day, and the guard is doubled.'
He bowed as if about to leave.
'But the name?' cried out Chaverny.
'"Don't you see the fool has only been laughing at you ?' said
Peyrolles.
The hunchback stopped at the entrance of the tent, and
looked at his hearers through his glass.
'He! he!' he cried, coming back; 'you all look askance
at each other, as if each thought his neighbour the mur-
derer. Touching effect of mutual esteem ! Gentlemen, the
times are changed ; it is no longer in fashion, thank Heaven!
Assassins are rare at court. Don'tf be uneasy; the assassin
is not here. We don't kill now-a-days with such brutal arms
as pistols and swords ; we ruin a man—we kill him by inches;'
and turning to the young men, he said, ' Why, what long
faces you all have; let us talk no more of horrible things.
Comedy is in fashion now. Mine is a good-humoured ghost,
who is interested in present as well as past events, therefore
he has come to the fete, and with his finger will point out to
the regent the clever men who cheat at the famous game of
140
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
lansquenet, in which Mr. Law holds the bank—to point out
to him the jugglers on the Stock Exchange, the mountebanks
of the street Quincampoix. The regent is a good, easy prince,
but easily prejudiced. Still,if he knew everything, he would
be ashamed.'
Some of his hearers left.
' That is ike fact.' assented the Duke de Rohan, graciously.
' Bravo!' applauded the Barons Brabanchois and La Hu-
naudaye.
' Is it so, gentlemen ?' continued the little man. ' Truths
are often best spoken in jest. These youngsters don't like my
plain words—noble youths whose nobility is just a little faded
mix with the unwashed vulgar like diverse colours in the same
woof of cloth. Don't be angry, my masters, we are at a
masked ball; some fetes have no to-morrow, and I am only a
poor hunchback.'
Chaverny took Navailles' arm. ' Let us be off,' he said.
The old nobles laughed heartily. ' And then,' continued the
hunchback, ' having pointed out to the regent the tricksters
and jugglers, and whole army of mountebanks of the Gon-
zagues palace—I would point out to the regent disappointed
ambition, envenomed rancour, envious caballers, grey-headed
fools, who would bring back the miseries of the Fronde, ad-
herents of the Duchess of Maine, odious conspirators, who
would willingly drag their country into an ominous war only
to satisfy their own ambition.'
The hunchback had not one listener left. He gave an in-
ward chuckle, and drew a parchment from his pocket sealed
with the royal seal, and sat down to read it quietly at the now
empty gambling-table. At the top of the parchment were
these words: ' Louis, by the grace of God King of France
and Navarre.' At the bottom was the signature of the
regent, the secretary of state, and superintendent of police.
' This is famous,' criecbtke little man, after having read it
through; ' now for the first time for eighteen years Lagar-
dere can hold his head up, look people in the face, and dare
avow his name.'
CHAPTER XXVI.
THE PINK DOMINOS.
The parchment contained a pass in form, and gave full per-
mission to the knight Lagardere to go to any part of France
under the guarantee of royal authority, and in all security to
leave the country whenever he chose, and whatever might
hflnnfin
THE PINK DOMINOS.
141
' "Whatever might happen,' repeated the hunchback again
and again; ' the regent may have his faults, still he is a man
of his word. Whatever may happen, Lagardere has with
this carte blanche. He has begun well; God grant he may
bring things to a prosperous issue.'
The Indian tent had two entrances. A few steps from the
second was a little path which led through a shrubbery to the
rustic lodge of Le Breant. It was lighted up by lamps placed
among the foliage. As the hunchback left the tent, he saw
the whole army of Gonzagues' partisans assembled there
after their defeat. They were evidently talking of him, and
making a joke of it; only Chaverny was silent. The
hunchback apparently had no time to lose, for he went
straight to the regent, hi3 glass to his eye, and cried out,—
' Only the regent can do such things—delightful, delightful!'
The gamblers moved to let him pass.
' Ah! gentlemen.' The others fled also. ' He! he! the
charming freedom of a masked ball.'
All left him except Chaverny, which caused a laugh among
his friends.
' Chaverny wished to have his fortune told,' cried Oriol.
' Chaverny has found his master,' added Navailles, ' some-
one even more caustic than himself.'
The little marquis stopped the hunchback, and said,—
'Did those words "Some fetes have no to-morrow" apply
personally to me ?'
' Personally to you.'
' Be so good as to translate them, then.'
' Marquis, I have not time.'
' If I force you ?'
'I defy you. The Marquis Chaverny killing in single
combat the tenant of the Prince Gonzagues' dog-kennel would
scarcely add to your fame.'
Chaverny held out his hand to stop him. The hunchback
took it, and pressed it forcibly in his.
'Marquis,' he said, in a low voice, 'you are better than
your deeds. In Spain, where we have both been, I once saw
a noble war-horse taken by some Jewish merchants and
laced among the baggage mules. It was at Oviedo. When
passed again the charger was dead. Marquis, you are not
in your proper place, and will die young, because it costs you
so much to become a knave.'
He bowed and passed on. Chaverny remained deep in
thought.
'At last he is gone,' cried Oriol.
'He is the devil in person,' added Havailles. 'How
thoughtful Chaverny looks!'
142
THE DUKE S "MOTTO.
Music was heard in the hall-rooms; it was an interlude
between two minuets. The Prince Gonzagues, tired of
waiting in the prince regent's ante-room, had entered the
ball-rooms: his politeness and ready wit made him a great
favourite with the ladies, who thought, even as a poor petty
noble, Philip Gonzagues an accomplished cavalier. Al-
though he lived in intimacy with the regent, his manaers
possessed none of the presumption and arrogance that was
then so much in fashion. His manners were courteous and
reserved. The Duchess of Orleans held him in high esteem,
and the good Abb6 Dubois, who extended his favour to few,
thought him almost a saint. What had passed to-day at the
palace Gonzagues had been variously reported. The ladies in
general considered Gonzagues' conduct in regard to his
wife as superhuman. He was a martyr—eighteen years of
patient endurance, and gentleness opposed to rigorous disdain.
The princesses were already acquainted with the prince's
very eloquent speech in the family council. The good-
natured Princess Palatine had offered him her fat hand; the
Duchess of Orleans had paid him a compliment; the beautiful
little Abbess of Chelles had spoken kindly to him; and the
Duchess of Berri said he was a sublime fool. In respect of
the poor Princess Gonzagues, they would have had her stoned
for causing the unhappiness of such a worthy man.
Gon/, i Hies, in the midst of his triumph, saw suddenly in
the embrasure of a window the long face of Peyrolles,
which, never of the gayest, was at this moment a living
signal of distress. He looked scared, and wiped the per-
spiration from his forehead. Gonzagues called him. Peyrolles
approached with trepidation, and whispered a few words in
his master's ear. Gonzagues rose quickly, and with a pre-
sence of mind that belongs only to knaves on the south side
of the Alps, said,—
' The Princess de Gonzagues has just entered the ball: I go
to meet her.'
Even Peyrolles was astonished.
' Where shall I find her?' asked Gonzagues.
Peyrolles assuredly did not know, so he bowed and led the
way.
' Some men are really too good,' cried the Princess Pala-
tine, with a pretty Bavarian oath.
The other princesses looked after him with compassion, and
sighed, ' Poor fellow!'
c What do you want ?' asked Gonzagues, as soon as they
were alone.
' The hunchback is at the ball!' replied the factotum.
' Of course I know that, for I gave him a card.'
THE PINK DOMINOS.
143
' You know nothing of him ?'
'How should I know anything ?'—' I distrust him.'
'Distrust him as much as you like; but is that allP'
' He had an interview this evening with the regent of half
an hour.'
'The regent!' repeated the prince, rather taken aback, but
recovering himself at what he said.
'Ho doubt, then, he had many things to say to him.'
The factotum then related the scene in the Indian tent.
When he had ended, Gonzagues laughed disdainfully, and
said,—
' All hunchbacks have wit, but a wit as distorted as their
bodies; they are for ever making silly scenes. The fellow
who burnt the temple of Ephesus to make himself famous
must have been a hunchback.'
'And that is all you think of it?' cried Peyrolles.
' Unless,' answered Gonzagues, after a moment's reflection,
' the hunchback wishes to sell himself at a high price.'
' He is betraying us, prince !' said Peyrolles, with emphasis.
' My poor fellow!' murmured his master, ' we shall have
trouble yet to make anything of you. Can't you see that the
hunchback is zealous in our interests ?'
'No, really, sir, I nevefc guessed that.'
' I don't like zeal; the hunchback shall be checked, but it's
certain he gave us a capital idea.'
' If the prince deigned to explain to me !'
They were among the shrubs. Gonzagues took familiarly
his factotum's arm.
' Tell me first,' he said, ' what was done in the street
Du Chantre ?'
' Your orders were punctually executed ; I only returned
to the palace after having seen the litter on its way towards
Magloire.'
'And Donna Cruz—Mademoiselle de Nevers ?'
' She must be here.'
' You must seek her, the princesses expect her. ^ I have ar-
ranged everything. She will make quite a sensation, and be
greatly admired. Now let us talk of the hunchback. What
could he say to the regent?'
' That is what we do not know.'
'I have, or at least I guess that he has, told the regent
that the assassin of Nevers is alive.'
'Hush!' cried involuntarily Peyrolles, who trembled from
head to foot.
' He has done well,' continued Gonzagues, calmly. 'Nevers'
murderer does exist; what interest have I, the husband of his
widow, in concealing it ? I should like the whole court to
hear me.'
144
THE DUKE S MOTTO.
Peyrolles was in consternation.
4 And since he lives,' continued Gonzagues; 4 by Jove! we
will find him.'
He stopped to look his factotum seriously in the face.
Peyrolles trembled violently, and nervous twitchings
agitated his face.
4 Do you comprehend ?' cried his master.
41 comprehend that it is playing with fire, prince.'
4 That was the hunchback's notion,' added Gonzagues,
lowering his voice; 4 it is not a bad one, in faith! Only how
did he get it; and what right has he to be wider awake
than we are? We shall find that out. Those who are so
clever are devoted to an early death.'
Peyrolles raised his head quickly. At last he could under-
stand.
4 Is it to'be to-night?' he murmured.
Gonzagues and Peyrolles had now reached the end of the
walk.
A lady in a court dress, covered with a large black domino
and a mask on, came from the other side. She was on the
arm of an old gentleman. The lady and gentleman passed
the end of the walk.
4 Did you recognise her ?' asked Gonzagues, who had pushed
his factotum and withdrawn himself into the shade.
4 No,' answered Peyrolles.
4 My dear president,' said the lady, at this moment, 41 beg
of you not to accompany me further.'
4 Shall you again need my services to-night ?' asked the old
gentleman. 4 Would you meet me here in an hour?'
4 It is the President Lamoignon,' whispered Peyrolles.
Gonzagues said—4 The lady looks as if she had not yet
found what she seeks ; let us not lose sight of her.'
The masked lady, who was no other than the Princess
Gonzagues, hid her face in the hood of her domino, and took
her way towards the fountain of the Mississippi.
The crowd was again in a fever of excitement. The arrival
of the regent and of good Mr. Law, the second personage in
the kingdom, was announced.
4 The young king did not count on any one as yet.'
4 You did not tell me, prince,' said Peyrolles, 4 whether the
hunchback was to be got rid of to-night.'
4 What! are you so much afraid of the hunchback ?'
4 If you had heard him as I did.'
4 What! talk of gaping tombs and ghosts and divine
vengeance. Oh! I know all that rigmarole. I wish to
talk to him. It will not be to-night. To-night we will
follow the road he pointed out. Listen to me, and try to
THE PINK DOMINOS.
145
comprehend. This night, if he keeps the promise that he
made—and he will keep it, I answer for him—we will keep the
promise that he made the regent in my name. A man is
coming to the fete, the tprrible enemy of my whole life. He
who makes you all tremble like leaves.'
'Lagardere,' murmured Peyrolles.
In the brilliantly-lighted room, amid the excited crowd
already expecting some great event, we will snatch oft' his
mask and proclaim him the ' assassin of Nevers.'
4 Did you see ?' asked Navailles.
' By my faith!' answered Gironne, ' it must be the princess
herself.'
'Alone, without a gentleman or a page,' said Choisy.
' She is "looking for some one.'
'By Jove! what a beautiful creature!' cried Chaverny,
awakened out of his melancholy.
' Where ? that pink domino ? Yenus herself!'
' It is Mademoiselle Clermont, who is looking for me,' said
Noc6.
' The fool!' cried Chaverny; ' don't you see it is the lady'
of General Tesse seeking me while her husband is running
after the Czar.'
' Fifty louis it is Mademoiselle Clermont!'
' A hundred it is Madame Tesse!'
' Let us go and ask her if she is Mademoiselle Clermont or
Madame Tesse.'
The two giddy pates were rushing towards her when they
for the first time perceived that the beautiful stranger was
followed at a little distance by two fellows with long 3words.
' What a bore!' said they both at once; 'it is neither Made-
moiselle Clermont nor the general's lady; it is an adventure.'
They were all assembled round the fountain. A visit to
the buffets covered with delicacies and wines had put them
again in good humour.
Oriol, the new esquire, longed to perform some brilliant
deed and gain his spurs.
' Gentlemen !' he cried, ' don't you think it is more likely
Mademoiselle Nivelle ?'
They played him the trick of never answering when he
spoke of the actress with whom he was in love.
The beautiful unknown looked very much out of place in
the midst of this assembly. Her mask even could not hide
her embarrassment.
The two attendants walked side by side ten or twelve paces
behind her.
'Let us do our duty, brother Passepoil.'
' Cocardasse, my noble friend, let us do our duty.'
10
146 the duke's motto.
It was no time for joking, the hunchback had threatened
them in Lagard&re's name ; they believed that the severe eye
of a vigilant master was upon them. They were as grave
and stiff as soldiers on duty. To be able to enter the ball
they had been back to the Bue Du Chantre, changed their
clothes, and taken the opportunity" of releasing Franchise and
Berichon.
Poor Aurora! lost in the crowd, had for more than an hour
been seeking Lagardere. She passed the Princess Gonzagues,
and was on the point of speaking to her, for the looks of these
silly young fellows frightened her. But what could she say
to obtain the protection of one of these noble ladies who were
at home. She had not courage. Besides, she was in haste
to reach the statue of Diana, which was the place of meeting.
'Gentlemen,' said Chaverny, 'it is neither Mademoiselle
Clermont, nor the general's lady, nor Nivelle, nor any one
that we know. She is a young beauty, quite fresh. A trades-
man's daughter would not have that queenly presence; a
mere country girl could never attain that enchanting grace;
a court lady could never affect that charming embarrassment.
I have a proposition to make.'
The circle of young scapegraces crowded round Chaverny.
' She is seeking some one,' he continued; ' is she not?'
' That is evident,' said Noce.
'Well, gentlemen, that somebody is a happy fellow.'
' Granted ; but that is no proposition.'
'It is not right,' went on the little marquis, 'that such a
treasure should be monopolized by a fellow who does not
belong to our worthy brotherhood ; therefore I propose that
the dear creature should not find the person she seeks.'
'Bravo !' was echoed from all. ' Chaverny is himself again.'
' Secondly, that instead of that person, she should find one
of us.'
' But which of us p' cried JNavailles.
' Me—me !' cried every one at once.
Even Oriol forgot his duty to Mademoiselle JNivelle.
Chaverny by a gesture besought silence.
'Gentlemen,' he said, 'these debates are premature; when
we have taken the lovely girl out of the charge of her grim
guardian we will play honourably at thimble-rig, at pharo, or
at straws for the honour of being her attendant.'
Such a wise proposal was secure of general approbation.
' To the assault, then !' cried JNavailles.
' One moment, gentlemen!' said the little marquis; ' I claim
the honour of directing the expedition.'
' Granted—granted ! to the assault I'
Chavernv looked around him.
THE DAUGHTER OP THE MISSISSIPPI.
147
'The question,' he said, 'is not to mate a noise. The
garden is full of soldiers, and it would not be pleasant to get
ourselves expelled before supper. We must use stratagem.
Can those among you who have good eyes see any wear a
pink domino ?'
'Mademoiselle Xivelle has one,' slipped out Oriol.
' Oh! here are two, three, four.'
' I mean a pink domino of our acquaintance.'
'There's Mademoiselle Desbois !' cried Havailles.
' There's Cidalise !' cried Taranne.
'We only want one. I choose Cidalise, because she is
about the height and figure of our beauty. Bring Cidalise
to me.'
Cidalise was brought.
' My dear,' said the little marquis, ' Oriol, who is an esquire
now, will give you a hundred crowns if you will serve us
adroitly. We want to put those two dogs yonder off their
scent, and you must do it for us.'
'And will it be a good joke ?' asked Cidalise.
' Oh! famous,' answered Chaverny.
CHAPTER XXVII.
the daughter of the mississippi.
Oeiol did not object to the promise of a hundred crowns,
because he had been called an esquire. Cidalise was willing,
if, as she said, there was a good joke in it. Her instructions
were quickly given—she had only to glide from group to
group, until unperceived she could take her place between
Aurora and her two followers. In the meantime, a detach-
ment sent off by G-eneral Chaverny skirmished against Cocar-
dasse and Passepoil, whilst a second detachment manoeuvred
to cut off Aurora. Cocardasse first was elbowed; he swore
a terrible capedebion, and put his hand to his sword. Passe-
poil whispered, ' Our duty—let us behave ourselves.' Passe-
poil then received a good cuff which made him stumble.
Cocardasse saw his eye glisten, and murmured, ' Let us be-
have ourselves.' A heavy heel came upon the Gascon's
instep, whilst the Norman stumbled a second time, for some-
body's scabbard had got between his legs—' Let us behave
ourselves!' Taranne gave Passepoil a violent push, and
called him a coward ; Gironne jostled Cocardasse, and called
him a scoundrel: ' Let us behave ourselves—let us behave
ourselves!' But their ears burned.
' My friend,' murmured Cocardasse, at the fourth offence,
10-2
148 the duke's motto.
and looking piteously at Passepoil, ' I am afraid I am getting
angry.'
Passepoil puffed like a whale, hut did not answer. When
Taranne returned to the charge, he received a violent box on
the ear. Cocardasse drew breath, as if greatly relieved ho
had not been the first. With one blow of his fist he sent
Gironne and innocent Oriol rolling in the dust.
They were off their guard. It was only for a moment, yet
another party, led by Chaverny in person, had the time to
surround Aurora and turn her in another direction. Cocar-
dasse and Passepoil, having got rid of their tormentors,
looked straight before them. They saw the pink domino
still in advance ; it was Cidalise, who was earning her hun-
dred crowns. Cocardasse and Passepoil, happy in having re-
venged themselves with impunity, renewed their guard over
Cidalise, repeating triumphantly, ' Let us behave ourselves!'
In the meanwhile, Aurora, having lost her way, and no
longer seeing her two protectors behind her, was forced to
follow the movements of those around her. These made
believe to give way to the crowd, and gradually approached
the clump of trees between the sheet of water and the statue
of Diana. In the middle of this shrubbery was the lodge of
Le Bryant. The narrow paths through it were serpentine,
after the English fashion, now just introduced. The crowd
followed the great avenues, and left these paths almost de-
serted. Close to the lodge, especially, there was a hidden
and isolated bower. Thither poor Aurora was drawn. Cha-
verny put his hand up to her mask; she screamed aloud, for
she recognised the young gentleman at Madrid. At her cry
the door of the lodge opened, a tall man, masked, and entirely
covered with a large black domino, appeared on the threshold.
He had a naked sword in his hand.
' Don't be frightened, charming creature,' said the little
marquis, 'these gentlemen and myself are your devoted
admirers.'
Saying this, he tried to pass his arm round Aurora's waist,
who screamed out for help. Albret slid behind her, and
slipped a silk handkerchief over her mouth. The black
domino seized Chaverny by the nape of the neck, and threw
him ten feet off. Albret had the same fate. Several swords
were drawn. The black domino disarmed Gironne and Noce,
seeing which, and forgetting his wished-for spurs, Oriol took
to flight, crying out, ' Help! help!' Montaubert and
Choissy charged; the first fell from a violent blow on the
ear, the latter had a cut across the face. The guard came
up at the clashing of swords—our adventurers dispersed like
a flock of starlings. The soldiers found no one in the bower,
THE. DAUGHTER OF THE MISSISSIPPI.
149
for the black domino and the young girl had also disappeared.
They only heard the door of the lodge shut.
' By Jove!' said Chaverny, meeting Navailles in the crowd,
' what a push ! I must find that fellow out if only to compli-
ment him on his fist.'
G-ironne and Noce arrived crestfallen; Choissy was in a
corner, holding a handkerchief to his bleeding cheek; Mon-
taubert did his best to hide his wounded ear; Oriol alone
was unhurt. The brave little Oriol! They all looked
ashamed the jest had failed, and each one among them won-
dered who their rough swordsman could be. They knew by
heart every one at the fencing-school at Pciris. These places
did not flourish now as they had done formerly—people had
not leisure. No one among the present virtuosi of the sword
could rout seven or eight swordsmen so easily. The black
domino had not even got entangled in his long drapery; he had
only dealt three or four good thrusts, but they were dealt
with a master hand, and were effectual. It must be a stranger—
in the fencing-school no one, not even the teachers themselves,
had such marvellous skill.
Just now the Duke of Nevers, killed in the flower of his
youth, had been spoken of. His memory still lived in all
fencing-schools—his sword flashed like lightning, his foot
was as firm as iron, his eye as quick as that of the lynx. But
he was dead, and certainly all here could testify that the
black domino was no ghost. There had been a man in
Nevers' time equal, if not superior, to Nevers himself, whose
name was Henri Lagardere. But what mattered the name
of this terrible swordsman ? One thing was certain—our rakes
were not in luck to-night. The hunchback had beaten them
with his tongue, the black domino with the sword—of both
they had to take their revenge.
' The ballet! the ballet!' His Boyal Highness the Regent!
the princesses! Mr. Law, this way, with Lord Stairs, the
English ambassador from the court of Queen Anne. Don't
push so ! there is room for every one ! Awkward! insolent!
ruffian! and all the other delights of a crowd, ribs squeezed,
feet trampled on, women smothered. Erom the midst of the
crowd piercing cries were heard. Little women have a pas-
sion for drowning themselves in a crowd; they see nothing,
they suffer martyrdom, still they cannot resist the attraction.
Mr. Law; see, he is ascending the steps before the palace.
That domino of light grey is Madame Parabere. That lady
in a puce domino is the Duchess of Phalaris. How red Mr.
Law looks! he must have dined well. How pale the Regent
is ! [he must have had bad news from Spain. Hush! hush !
the ballet!
150 THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
The orchestra placed round the basin gave forth its first
notes. The platform for the audience "was on the side towards
the palace. It was a slope of dazzling splendour and beauty.
Opposite, the curtain rose slowly by invisible mechanism,
and discovered a well-represented view in Louisiana, where
the gigantic trees of the virgin forest nearly touched the
clouds, and vast prairies lost themselves in the distance,
through which passed the great father of waters, the mag-
nificent, golden river Mississippi. On the banks were smiling
views, and everywhere that bright green so dear to the
painters of that age. Mossy caves, picturesque grottoes, and
delicious arbours, were scattered about. Young Indian girls
wandered amid all this loveliness, young mothers hung their
babies' cradles on the graceful boughs of the sassafras; war-
riors amused themselves with shooting and throwing the
hatchet, whilst old men smoked around the fire of council.
At the moment the curtain drew up, several pieces of scenery
rose round the basin, so that the statue of Mississippi placed
in its centre appeared framed in a lovely landscape, Prom
the platform, and from one end of the garden to the other,
there was one universal burst of applause.
Oriol was beside himself. JNIvelle, who played the principal
character in the ballet, that of the daughter of the Mississippi,
came forward. ' "Well!' he cried, nudging his two neighbours,
who happened to be the two Barons Brabanchois and La
Hvnaudaye, ' is not that good?'
The two barons looked down on him disdainfully.
' How light! how graceful! how brilliant!' cried the fat
little stockbroker, unabashed. ' The skirt alone cost me a
hundred and fifty, the wings eighty pounds more, the girdle
sixty, and the diadem a whole share in the stocks. Bravo!
adorable creature, bravo!'
The barons looked at each other significantly over his head.
' Such a splendid creature V said Brabanchois.
' To get her toilet from such a fellow 1' added his friend.
'"What are we coming to, baron—what are we coming to?'
A thunder of applause followed. Oriol's Hivellq was charm-
ing, and her dance on the borders of the river among the
brilliant flowers and tropical foliage was thought delicious.
All honour to Mr. Law who had devised such a delightful
treat. Every one smiled on him, and the ladies fell in love
with him. Still there were two men who could not partake
of (he general joy.
Cocardasse and Passepoil had for ten minutes most atten-
tively followed Cidalise in her pink domino, when suddenly
she disappeared as if swallowed up by an earthquake. This
was behind the fountain at the entrance of a tent of palm*
THE DAUGHTER OF THE MISSISSIPPI. 151
leaves. When Cocardasse and Passepoil wished to follow
her, two sentinels barred their passage. The tent belonged
to the ladies of the ballet.
' By Jove! comrades,' cried Cocardasse.
' Be off!' cried the sentinels.
' My brave friends,' began Passepoil.
'Be off!' was his only answer.
They looked at each other piteously; they had suffered the
bird confided to their care to escape—all was lost!
'Well, we have done all we could,' said Cocardasse, with
a deep sigh.
' But luck was against us,' added Passepoil, weeping. ' I
will only entreat him to dispatch me with a thrust in the
heart; it wont make much difference to him.'
' What should you do that for ?' asked the Gascon.
Passepoil's eyes, red and full of tears, did not embellish
him j and his friend owned he had seldom seen so ugly a
physiognomy.
' I wish, my noble friend, that my face should not be dis-
figured. I, who have all my life been used to please the fair
sex, should grieve to think that I might displease any after
my death.'
'Pecaire !' muttered Cocardasse, but he could not laugh.
The ballet entitled the ' Daughter of the Mississippi' was
strikingly original. The maiden of the great river, in the
pretty person of JNivelle, after having fluttered among the
flowers and foliage to general satisfaction, gracefully called
her companions, who came forward, garlands in hand, and
executed a dance, which was greeted with much applause.
The maiden's companions, of course, consisted of Cidalise,
Dubois, La Peun, and other dancing celebrities of the time.
All at once a band of Indian savages, whose only dress con-
sisted of a crown of feathers, rushed from the woods, and with
horrid grimaces and gestures approached the young girls, and
struck at them with their hatchets, evidently with the inten-
tion of making a feast of them. Then murderers and victims
danced a minuet, which was encored. That at the moment
when the maidens were about to be devoured, a flourish of
trumpets was heard at a distance, and a troop of French
sailors jumped on shore, vigorously dancing a hornpipe. The
savages, Btill dancing, shook their fists at them, while the
maidens held out their arms imploring their help. A battle-
dance ensued, during which the French captain and Indian
chief executed a famous pas cle deux. The victory of the French
was declared by a general twirl, the defeat of the savages by
a flying leap. Then followed the garland dance, representing
the dawn of civilization in those barbarous lands. But the
152 the duke's motto.
prettiest of all was the last scene, which proved its author
ineontestably a man of genius. The river maiden, dancing
with unabated agility, threw away her garland, and took up a
golden cup. With graceful twirls aud pirouettes she ascended
the steep path which led up to the statue of the river-god.
There, balancing herself admirably on one toe, she filled her
cup from the fountain of the Mississippi, and in a crowning
pirouette sprinkled abundantly the Frenchmen still dancing
below her. But, wonder upon wonders !—it was not water that
fell from that golden cup, but a real shower of gold. How
stupid must those be who could not understand so delicate
and well-imagined a conceit. The success was immense.
When the dancers disappeared behind the shrubs, three or
four thousand voices cried out, ' Long live Mr. Law !' But it
was not yet finished: there was to be a song, and who was to
sing"? Verily, and in truth, the statue of the river-god.
Signor Angelini, first tenor at the opera, took the part of the
statue. The song, which was, if possible, more ingenious
than the ballet, consisted of several verses; one in honour of
the young king, another of the regent, a third immortalizing
Mr. Law as Caledonia's glorious son, sent by the gods to the
Gallic shores, bringing peace and riches in his hand. In fact,
every one must be gratified. When the god had finished his
song, he was taken off his pedestal, and the ball went on.
The Prince Gonzagues had been obliged to fill his place on
the platform during the performance. His conscience made
him dread some change in the regent's manners towards him-
self, but his reception had been as favourable as ever. Before
taking his place, he had set Peyrolles to watch the princess,
and to let him know if any stranger accosted her. He had
received no message. Everything progressed satisfactorily.
After the performance, Gonzagues joined his factotum under
the Indian tent, near the statue of Diana. The Princess G-on-
zagues was alone in one of the side halls, evidently expecting
some one. Just as Gonzagues was about to retire, not to
risk frightening the game that he wished to snare, our troop
of silly young rakes rushed into the tent, laughing with
all their might. They had already forgotten their mishaps,
and were making all sorts of fun of the ballet and the song.
Chaverny imitated the growling of the savages ; Noce was
singing with fearful shakes the verse about Caledonia's glo-
rious son.
'Was not she splendid?' cried Oriol. 'What bursts of
applause ! The dress has something to do with it.'
'And you, too!' cried all his companions. 'A crown for
Oriol! Let us do homage to Oriol, the glorious son of the
stocks!' .
THE DAUGHTER OP THE MISSISSIPPI.
153
The sight of Gonzagues hushed all this clamour; and each
one, except Chaverny, resumed his demeanour of courtier,
and paid his respects.
'At last we find you, cousin,' said Navailles. 'We were
uneasy.'
'There is no fete without this dear prince,' cried Oriol.
'Ah, cousin!' said Chaverny, seriously; 'do you know
what happened?'
' Many things happen,' replied Gonzagues.
' But,' asked Chaverny, ' did you hear what happened here
a little while since ?'
'I told his highness,' interrupted Peyrolles.
' What did he tell you of the man with the cutlass ?' asked
Noce.
' We can laugh afterwards,' said Chaverny. ' The regent's
favour is my last patrimony, and I only have it secondhand.
I have need that my illustrious cousin should remain well at
court, if he could assist the regent in his researches."'
' We are all at the prince's orders,' said the rakes.
' Besides,' continued Chaverny, ' this affair of Nevers, which
is brought forward again after so many years, interests me,
like most touching romances. Come, cousin, have you any
suspicion ?'
'No,' answered Gonzagues; ' nothing that might give you
a clue.'
' Yes,' interrupted the prince, as if an idea suddenly struck
him; ' there is one man.'
' What man ?'
' You are too young; you could not know him. That man,'
continued Gonzagues, as if thinking aloud, ' could tell what
hand struck my poor Philip of Nevers.'
' His name ?' cried several vocies.
' Henri de Lagardere.'
' He is here!' cried Chaverny, heedlessly; ' then he must
he our black domino.'
What!' asked Gonzagues, anxiously; ' you have seen him ?'
' A stupid affair; we do not know Lagardere from Adam,
cousin. But if he happened to be at the ball '
' If he were at the ball,' interrupted the Prince Gonzagues,
' I would undertake to show his royal highness the assassin of
Nevers.'
' I am here!' pronounced firmly a man's voice behind him.
This voice made Gonzagues start so violently, that Noce
took hold of him.
At the sound of this voice the Princess Gonzagues got up
greatly agitated.
154:
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
CHAPTEE XXVIII.
THE El'M-TBEE WALK.
A few moments passed before the prince could recover him-
self. The others remained wondering and confounded.
Chaverny knit his brows. 'Is this the man called
Lagardere ?' he asked, putting his hand on his sword.
Gonzagues turned and looked towards the man who had
pronounced the words 'I am here,' and still stood silent,
immovable, with his arms crossed over his breast.
Gonzagues said in a low voice—' It is he !'
The princess listened anxiously, but dared not come
forward; that man held her happiness in his hand.
Lagardere wore a court dress of white satin, embroidered
with silver; he was still the handsome Lagardere—pterhaps,
at this moment, more so than ever. His figure, without
losing its elasticity, had gained in strength and majesty.
Manly intelligence and honour beamed in his face, chastened
by an expression of gentleness and sadness. Suffering does
good to great minds. His was a noble soul, and it had
suffered much, but his body was of bronze. As the wind, the
rain, the snow, and the storm glide off the brow of the statue,
leaving it smooth as before, so time, fatigue, sorrow, joy had
passed over that lofty forehead, and left no trace behind. He
was handsome, he was young. The darker shade that the
sun of Spain had given to his face, contrasted with his light
hair, only made him look more soldierlike. There were many
dresses richer and handsomer than his, but none were worn
with the same dignity and grace. Lagardere looked a king.
Lagardere glanced towards the Princess Gonzagues, as if to
say, ' Wait for me.' Then he seized Gonzagues by the arm,
and drew him aside.
Gonzagues mode no resistance.
Peyrolies said, in a low voice, ' Gentlemen, hold yourselves
in readiness.'
Swords were drawn.
The princess came and placed herself between the allies
and her husband, conferring with Lagardere.
As the latter did not speak, Gonzagues asked, ' What do
you want with me ?'
They stood under a lamp, their features fully revealed to
each other; both were pale, and their eyes flashed.
In a few seconds Gonzagues' eyes fell under the stern gaze
of Lagardere. He stamped angrily, and tried to draw away
his arm, saying again, 'What do you want with me, sir?'
An iron hand held him fast. Hot only was he unable to
THE ELM-TREE WALK.
155
release his hand, but Lagardere squeezed it so hard that a
cry of pain escaped him, and his fingers unbent.
'Shall we suffer this, gentlemen?' cried Chaverny, ad-
vancing with his sword raised.
' Tell your people to be quiet,' ordered LagardSre.
Gonzagues turned towards them, and said, ' Gentlemen, I
beg you will not interfere.'
Lagardere, still holding Gonzagues' right hand grasped in
his, drew the glove off, and pointing to a long scar extending
from the wrist to the fingers, said, with, deep emotion, ' It
was I who gave you that.'
'Yes, it was you,' muttered Gonzagues between his teeth.
' I remember it well. Why need you bring it to my memory ?'
' This is the first time, Prince Gonzagues,' answered Henri,
slowly, ' that we meet face to face, but it will not be the last.
Before, I only suspected, now I have the assurance—you are
the assassin of He vers.'
Gonzagues laughed convulsively. ' I am Prince Gonzagues,'
he said, raising his head, ' sufficiently wealthy and powerful
to buy up all the justice that remains on earth. With me
you have but one resource, your sword. Draw, and defend
yourself!' He glanced towards his friends.
' Prince,' answered Lagarddre, ' your hour has not yet come.
I will choose my own time and place. I told you once, if you
did not seek Lagardere, Lagardere would seek you. I am
here. Heaven is just; Philip of Nevers shall be avenged.'
He let go Gonzagues' wrist and turned towards the princess.
'Madame) I wait your commands.'
The princess rushed towards her husband, and whispered to
him—'If you plot against this man, you will find me in your
way.' Then she joined Lagarddre, and offered him her
hand.
Gonzagues had sufficient power over himself to hide the rage
that boiled within him; and said carelessly, as he rejoined his
friends, ' That fellow wants at one blow to blast your fortunes
and your future; but he is a fool, and fate gives him into our
hands. Follow me.' He walked at once to the flight of steps
leading to the regent's apartments, and entered there.
Supper had just been announced in the palace, and under
the*rich tents in the courts. The garden was deserted, and no
one remained in the shubbery; only a few late guests were
hastening along the great avenues. Among these were our
two barons of La Hunaudaye and Brabanchois, who hobbled
along, still saying, ' Where are we going to, baron ?—where
are we going to ?'
' To supper,' answered Cidalise, who passed them on the
arm of a musqueteer.
156
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
Lagardere and the Princess G-onzagues were soon alone in
the elm avenue by the side of the street Richelieu.
4 Sir,' said the princess, whose voice trembled with emotion;
'your voice has awakened in me poignant regrets. It was
you—I know it was you—who received my child in your
arms in the castle of Caylus.
' It was I,' answered Lagardere.
' Why did you deceive me, then ? Answer me frankly, I
entreat you.'
' Because a merciful Heaven inspired me. But it is a long
story; you shall hear the particulars another time. I de-
fended your husband ; I had his last words. I have saved
your child. Heed you more, madam, to believe in me?'
The princess looked at him. ' God has placed honour on
your brow,' she said; ' but I know not, I have been so often
deceived.'
Lagardere was cold, this speech made him almost hostile.
' I have the proofs of your daughter's birth,' he said.
' But those words that you pronounced, " I am here ?"'
' I did not learn it from your husband, but from his mur-
derers.'
'You spoke it years ago in the moat at Caylus.'
' Yes, and by so doing saved the life of your child.'
' Who, then, pronounced it to-day close to me in the council-
chamber ?'
' My messenger, my second self.'
The princess reflected. Truly the meeting between this
preserver and the mother ought to have been an ardent ex-
pression of feeling, it resembled in reality more a diplomatic
contest which might end in mortal enmity. Wherefore?
Because there was a treasure between them of which each was
equally jealous—the preserver had his rights, the mother hers.
The mother, poor woman, bowed down by suffering and
hardened by solitude, was proud and suspicious. The pre-
server, in face of this womap, who would not show her heart,
felt also fear and distrust.
'Madame,' asked Lagardere, coldly, 'have you any doubt
concerning the identity of your daughter ?'
' Ho,' answered the princess, ' something tells me that my
daughter, my own daughter, is really in your hands. What
reward do you expect for this immense benefit; do not fear
to raise your hopes too high, I would give you half my life.'
The mother showed herself in these words, but the recluse
also. She wounded unintentionally—she had not studied other
people's feelings.
Lagardere kept back a bitter retort, and only bowed in
silence.
THE ELM-TREE WALK.
157
' Where is my daughter ?' ashed the princess.
'You must first consent to listen to me,' answered Henri.
' I understand you, sir ; hut I have already told you.'
'Ho, madame, you do not understand me,' interrupted he,
in a severe tone, ' and I much fear you never can.'
' What do you mean ?'
' That your daughter is not here.'
' She is at your house ?' answered the princ.ess, in a vexed
tone ; hut recovering herself added, ' Of course that is only
natural; you have watched over her since childhood. Ho
doubt you have servants ?'
' When, two years since, I took your daughter from the
Spanish convent where she was educated, and where I watched
over her with jealous care, I took into my house an old and
faithful servant of your late husband, Dame Franpoise '
'Franpoise Berichon!' cried the princess, eagerly; then
taking Lagardere's hand, she added, ' this was a noble act, and
I thank you.'
These words seemed to Henri like an insult. Too much
excited to notice their effect upon her companion, the princess
cried out, ' Take me to my daughter—I am ready to follow
you.'
' But I am not ready,' replied Lagardere.
The princess drew back her hand from under his arm; all
her distrust rekindled, 'You not ready!' She gazed at him
almost with dread.
' Madame, many dangers surround us.'
' Surround my daughter! I am here,'I will protect her.'
' You, madame ?' cried Lagardere, with bitter irony. ' You!'
his eyes flashed with anger, but lowering them with an effort,
and in a calmer voice he added, 'Have you never asked
yourself the question so natural in a mother, " Why has this
man delayed so long to bring me back my child?" 5
' Yes, I have.'
' How is it you did not make it to me ?'
' My happiness is in your hands,' she said, deprecatingly.
' And you are afraid of me,'
The princess was silent; Henri smiled sadly. ' If you had
asked me this question,' he said, gently yet firmly, ' I should
have answered you frankly as far as respect and courtesy
would allow.'
' I ask it you now, putting aside, if you please, respect and
courtesy.'
' If, madam, I delayed so many years -bringing back your
daughter, it was because that in my distant exile a strange and
incredible account which, at first, I refused to believe, reached
me—Hevers' widow had become the Princess G-onzagues.'
1G8
the duke's motto.
in Iiis eyes, ' Oil! I am blest, I am blest!' Then, a cloud came
over bis face.
Aurora saw it, and asked petulantly, ' Wbat is it now?'
'If ever you felt regret,' whispered Henri, kissing her hair.
' What can I regret if you are with me ?'
'Listen, dearest. I wished to-night to raise a little the
curtain that hides from you all the splendours of the great
world. You have seen the court, its luxury, its magnificence;
you have heard the joyful sounds of the fete. What think
you of the court ?'.
' The court is splendid; but I have not seen it all, have I ?'
'Do you feel that you should like this life? Your eyes
glisten: you would like the great world!'
' With you, yes.'
' But without me ?'
'Nothing without you.'
Lagardere pressed her hands to his lips. 'Did you see the
ladies looked smiling ?'
' They seemed happy,' said Aurora, ' and very beautiful.'
' Those ladies are happy, in truth, they have splendid
mansions.'
' When you are at home, Henri, I like our house better
than a palace.'
' They have friends.'
' But have I not you?'
' They have kindred.'
'You are mine.'
Aurora made all these answers with a frank smile on her
lips. Her heart spoke. Still Lagarddre desired the proof
1 ' 3, and summoning all his courage, said, ' They have a
Aurora turned pale, a tear glistened on her eyelid. Henri
let go her hands, which she folded over her bosom.
' A mother,' she said : ' oh ! I am often with my mother.
After you, Henri, she fills most my thoughts.'
Her beautiful eyes beamed with tenderness. ' Oh! if I had
only my mother and you, Henri; and if I could hear her call
you her son, Heaven could grant me no greater happiness; but
had I to choose between my mother and you ' Her heart
beat with violence. A shade of deep melancholy passed over
her lovely features. Lagardere waited, anxious, breathless.
She could say no more, but fell, overcome with emotion, into
Henri's arms, murmuring, in a sobbing tone, ' Oh! I love
you, I love you!'
With one hand Lagardere held her pressed to his bosom,
the other he raised towards heaven. 'God!' he cried with
fervour, ' God who sees and judges us gives her to me, I
IN WHICH THE FJjITE ENDS.
169
take her as Heaven's greatest blessing, and I swear that she
shall be happy."
Aurora half opened her eyes and smiled faintly.
' Thanks ! thanks !' cried Lagard^re, kissing her forehead.
' See how happy you make me. I laugh, I weep, 1 am mad
with joy. Oh! then you are mine, all mine. But what did I
say just now ? not that I was young ? that is not true, dearest!
Oh! I feel my youth, my strength, my life passing away.
Certain it is that those of my age are older than I am. Shall
I tell you why, darling ? Others do what I did before I found
your cradle on my path; they exhaust the treasures of their
youth in follies and often in crime. You came to me, Aurora,
to be my better angel; you filled my heart; I love you with
the ardour of youth and the force of manhood. You listen
and smile. Do you think me mad ? Oh! I am indeed beside
myself, darling, with happiness. What long years have I
passed in watching you grow and bloom like a lovely flower,
in seeing your mind expand, and in seeking all my joy in your
smile. Oh! we will be all in all to each other; you are my
own, my very own. We will go into some distant retreat very
far from here, where we can live unknown. Our life shall be
henceforth love, all love. But speak, Aurora darling, speak!'
He listened in ecstasy.
'Love,' she murmured, as in a happy dream: ' love for ever.'
* * * # *
'For certain,' muttered Cocardasse, who was carrying the
Baron de Brabanchois's feet, ' this old gentleman is no feather,
comrade.'
Passepoil held the head of the baron, who, though thoroughly
disgusted with the regent's orgies, was at this moment as
perfectly intoxicated as half-a-dozen Czars visiting Paris.
Cocardasse and Passepoil had been commissioned by the
Baron de Hunaudaye to convey his friend home. They were
now crossing the darkened and deserted garden.
'Well, comrade,' said the Gascon, a hundred yards from
the tent where they had supped, ' supposing we rest a little.'
'I agree,' answered the Horman; 'the old fellow is heavy,
and the payment is light.'
They laid the baron on the grass, who, beginning to revive
with the fresh air, hummed his favourite song—' Where are
we going ? oh! where are we going ?'
' The devil take me if I know,' said Cocardasse.
' How droll the old drunkard is!' said Passepoil, quietly
taking out his pipe and lighting it.
They both seated themselves on a bench.
'Well, our supper was good, if it was our last.'
' Excellent,' agreed Cocardasse; ' I ate a fowl and a half.'
170
THE DUKE S MOTTO.
'Ah !' rejoined Passepoil,' that little girl that sat opposite
me with the light hair and a little foot not bigger than the
hollow of my hand.'
' Capital!' cried Cocardasse; ' and snch famous stuffing.'
' And her waist; did you notice her waist, that you might
span ?'
' I like mine the best,' answered Cocardasse, gravely.
' Yours indeed ! why, she had red hair, and squinted,' cried
Passepoil, referring of course to his friend's neighbour at
supper.
The Gascon seized him by the nape of the neck, and held
him up. ' Comrade!' he cried; ' I wont have my supper
abused ; ask my pardon, or I'll smash you without mercy.'
They had both drunk to drive away their grief twice as much
as the Baron of Brabanchois.
Passepoil, tired of the tyranny of his noble friend, would
not make excuses. They drew their swords and made dread-
ful passes at each other without effect. Then they seized and
pulled each other's hair, and ended by falling over the un-
lucky baron, who awoke again to hum—' Where are we going ?
where are we going ?'
' Oh! I kadi forgotten the old fellow,' said Cocardasse.
' Let us carry him off,' added Passepoil.
But before taking up their load, they hugged each other
cordially, shedding abundance of tears. It would have been
exceedingly unlike them to have forgotten to carry off a bottle
of wine a-piece; they took each a good draught and resumed
their load.
The good old baron was dreaming that he was at the fete of
Yaux le Yicomte, given by Fouquet to the young king Louis the
Fourteenth, and that he had fallen under the table after supper.
' Other times, other manners,' is a false proverb in this case.
' And you could not catch sight of her ?' asked Cocardasse.
' Who ? my neighbour.'
' No; our pink domino.'
' Not a glimpse, and I searched all the tents.'
'Nor I either, and I ventured even into the palace, where
they stared at me, I promise you. There were pink dominos
in plenty, but not ours. I tried to speak to one of them, who
gave me a fillip on the nose, and called me old scarecrow.
Pecaire, our illustrious friend the regent's company is not the
most select.'
' And him, did you meet him ?' asked Passepoil.
Cocardasse lowered his voice. 'No,' he answered ; ' but I
heard him spoken of. The regent did not sup, but was shut
up a whole hour with our prince ; the sequel of what we saw
in the palace this morning. Pardieu! if they had half the
IN WHICH THE FETE ENDS.
171
courage they pretend to, our poor Little Parisian will have to
mind his p's and q's.'
' I am afraid,' sighed Passepoil, ' they will rid ns of him.'
Cocardasse came to a dead stop, which elicited a murmur
from the Baron of Brabanchois. 'You may take my oath
for it, friend! the little devil will get out of this scrape, as he
has from so many others.'
' The pitcher may go once too often to the well,' murmured
Passepoil. He had hardly finished his proverb when footsteps
were heard near the fountain. Our two bravos, from mere
habit, got behind the trees; their first idea was always to
hide themselves. The footsteps approached—a troop of armed
men—and at their head marched the famous swordsman,
Bonnivet, groom-in-waiting to the Duchess of Berri. As this
patrol passed through each walk, the lamps were put out.
Cocardasse and Passepoil heard the men talk as they passed.
' He must be in the garden,' said a sergeant; ' for I have
asked all the sentries at the gates ; no one has seen him go
out, and his dress would be easily recognised.'
' Oh!' cried another, ' no mistaking him. I saw him shake
the Prince Gonzagues just as you would an apple-tree to get
the apples down.'
* That good fellow must be a countryman of mine,' said
Passepoil, moved by the Norman metaphor.
'Silence there!' cried out Bonnivetj 'we have rather a
difficult customer to deal with.' They passed on.
Another party traversed the walks close to the palace, and
a third searched in another direction. It seemed as if in this
frivolous abode of pleasure some dark deed was about to be
executed.
' Comrade,' said Cocardasse, ' they are looking for him.'
' And no mistake,' added Passepoil. ' I heard in the palace
that he had roughly handled the Prince Gonzagues.'
'And to look for him they put out the lights!'
' Not to look for him, but to attack him.'
' Well,' said Passepoil, ' they are fifty to one, and if they
miss him now '
' They will miss him, friend, never fear! why, there's the
devil in the rogue. Let us go and look for him and offer
him our services.'
Passepoil was prudent, and little relished the proposal. ' It
is not the moment.'
' What! do you dare thwart me ?' cried the passionate
Cocardasse. ' Now is the very nick of time. Why, if he did
not need us, would we not be in danger of a thrust. Be-
member, we are in fault.'
' True,' sighed Passepoil, ' we are in fault, yet somehow I
don't like it.'
172 the duke's motto.
Thus it happened that the Baron of Brabanchois did not
sleep in his bed this night. He was comfortably laid on the
ground, and continued his doze. The end of this story will
disclose how and where he awoke.
Cocardasse and Passepoil began their search. The night
was very dark, scarcely any lights were to be seen in the garden,
except round the Indian tent. Lights shone in the regent's
apartments, a window on the first floor opened, and the regent
himself came out on the balcony, and said to his invisible
guards—' I charge you on your obedience to take him alive.'
' "Well,' grumbled Bonnivet, who with his party were by
the statue of Diana—' if the knave only heard that!'
We must confess that the guards had no heart in their work.
Lagardere had such a terrible reputation as a swordsman that
each man would willingly have made his will. Bonnivet him-
self would rather have encountered a score of country youths
—thrashers as they were called in the Paris gambling-houses,
where they were fleeced without mercy.
Lagardere and Aurora had come to the resolution to fly.
Lagardere did not guess what was going on in the garden.
He hoped to be able to pass with his companion by the
door where Le Breant was stationed. He had put on his
black domino, and Aurora's face was hidden by her mask;
they left the lodge. Two men were on their knees at the
threshold.
'We did our very best, sir,'cried Cocardasse and Passe-
poil, who had finished their bottle to keep up their courage.
' Do forgive us.'
' That pink domino is a true will-o'-the-wisp.'
' By Jove!' cried Passepoil, ' here she is.'
Cocardasse rubbed his eyes.
' Get up,' said Lagardere. Then seeing the muskets of the
watch at the end of the walk, he added—'What is the
meaning of this ?'
'It means, my poor boy,' said Passepoil, 'that you are
beset.' His bottle had given him this freedom of speech.
Lagardere asked no further explanation, he guessed every-
thing. The fete was over, that alarmed him most. Hours
had flown like minutes. He had not thought of the time, and
he was too late. The hurry alone of the fete would have fa-
voured their flight.
' Will you take my part heartily, and in truth ?' he asked.
'To the death,' answered the bravos, earnestly.
And thdy meant what they said. The sight of their Little
Parisian, together with the wine they had drunk, had intoxi-
cated them entirely.
Aurora trembled for Lagardere, and thought not of herself,
IN WHICH THE FElTE ENDS.
173
4 Are tlie sentries still posted at tlie gates ?' asked Henri.
4 They are doubled,' answered Cocardasse. 4 You will have
a hard bout for it.'
Lagardere reflected, then he said—4 Do you happen to know
Le Bryant, one of the porters here ?'
4 Well,' answered both.
'Then he will not let you out,' said Lagardere, in dis-
gust.
Our bravos assented. Those only who did not know them
were likely to open th,e door for them. A confused noise was
heard among the foliage around them. They could discern
nothing, for where they were had rather more light than the
neighbouring walks, and the shrubberies were in perfect
darkness.
'Listen,'said Lagardere. 'We are come to such a pass
that everything must be risked. Don't trouble about me. I
have here a disguise which will blind my enemies. Take
charge of this young lady. You will conduct her under the
portico of the regent's apartments ; Le Breant's door is at the
end of the first passage: you will pass masked and say—4 We
come from him who is in your lodge in the garden.' He will
open the door for you, and you will go and wait for me by
the oratory at the Louvre.'
4 We will do it,' said Cocardasse.
4 One word more. Are you men to defend with your lives
this young lady in case you are attacked?'
4 Body and soul! we'll cut our way through, never fear,'
answered the Gascon.
4 Let them beware who oppose us,' rejoined Passepoil, with
a pride not his own.
Both added—4 You shall be satisfied with us this time.'
Lagardere kissed Aurora's hand, and whispered, 4 Courage
—this is our last trial.'
She departed, escorted by our two swordsmen. They were
obliged to pass the fountain of Diana.
4 Oh!' cried a soldier; 4 here is a lady who has taken a long
time to find her way back.'
4 My friend,' said Cocardasse, 4 one of the ladies of the
ballet.' He pushed aside those nearest him, and added—4 His
royal highness expects us.'
The soldiers laughed and gave way.
But under the shade of the orange-trees in tubs, at the
angle of the pavilion, were two men on the watch—the Prince
Gonzagues and his factotum. They were watching for Lagar-
d£re, whom they were expecting every moment to appear.
Gonzagues whispered a few words to Peyrolles, who, with
two or three armed followers hastened after Aurora and her
174 the duke's motto.
escort. Le Ere ant opened liis gate once as Lagardere Lad
expected for the first party, and again for the second.
Ligardere had watched his betrothed reach the pavilion
without hindrance. When he sought to return to the lodge a
party of soldiers stopped him.
4 Holloa, sir!' cried the leader, with slight hesitation.
'Make no resistance, I beg; you are surrounded on all sides.'
It was too true, the shrubberies resounded with the clank
of arms.
4 What do you want with me ?' asked Lagardere, who did
not even draw his sword.
The valiant Bonnivet advanced stealthily behind and seized
his arm.
Lagardere made no resistance, only asked again—4 "What do
you want with me ?'
4 By Jove, you will soon see, friend!' answered the Marquis
Bonnivet. 4 Forward there, to the palace. You will bear
me witness that I made this important capture entirely
myself.'
There were about fifty who surrounded Henri, and bore
rather than led him to the regent's apartments. The gate
was then closed, and no living soul remained in the garden
except the good Baron de Brabanchois, snoring on the damp
grass.
CHATTEE XXXI.
the ambuscade.
What we called the council chamber of the regent was a vast
apartment, where he gave audience to the ministers, ambas-
sadors, &c. There was a round table in the centre, an arm-
chair for the regent, another for the Duke of Bourbon, seats
for the council, and benches for the secretaries. Over the
principal entrance were the arms of France with the crest of
Orleans appended. The business of the State was carried on
here daily, in no decorous manner, it must be confessed, after
dinner. The regent dined late, and the opera began early.
Beally there was not time to attend to business properly.
Wrhen Lagardere entered, the room was nearly full. La-
moignon, De Tennier, and De Michault were by the side of the
regent. The Dukes St. Simon, Luxembourg, and Harcourt
stood by the fire-place. There were guards at the doors, and
the triumphant Bonnivet wiped the perspiration from his fore-
head.
4 We had much trouble,' he murmured, half aloud,4 but have
got him at last. Oh! what a fellow he is.'
THE AMBUSCADE.
175
'Did lie make much, resistance,' asked Michault, chief of
the police.
' Had I not been there, I don't know what might not have
happened.'
In the embrasures of the windows were the Cardinal Bissy,
the venerable Villeroi, Yoyer d'Argenson, &c. Some of G-oii-
zagues' followers had forced their way in—Navailles, Choisy,
Oriol. Chaverny was talking to Count de Brissac, who was
sleeping on his feet, from having passed three nights running
over the bottle. A dozen men armed to the teeth stood behind
LagarAjre. One lady alone was present—the Princess Gon-
zagues, who was seated by the regent.
' Sir,' said the latter, abruptly, as soon as he saw Lagardere,
' we did not include in our conditions that you might come
and trouble our fete, and insult in our palace one of the
highest nobles in the kingdom. You are accused of drawing
your sword within the precincts of the Palais Boyal. You
make us repent too soon our clemency towards you.'
Since his capture, Lagarddre's face seemed of stone. Coldly
yet respectfully, he answered, ' I have no fear, your highness,
that the conversation between the Prince Gonzagues and
myself should be repeated. In regard to the second accusa-
tion, it is true I drew my sword, but it was in a lady's defence.
Some here could bear me witness.'
No one answered but Chaverny, who said, ' Sir, you have
told the truth.'
Henri looked at him with astonishment, and saw that his
companions found fault with him. The regent was too tired
to regard trifles. ' Sir,' he continued, ' that might have been
overlooked, but there is one thing which cannot be pardoned.
You promised to return the Princess Gonzagues her daughter.
Is this true?'
' Yes, your highness, I promised.'
'You sent me a messenger, who made the same promise in
your name. Do you know him ?'
' Yes, your highness.'
'You know, of course, that you are before a tribunal.
Ordinary courts cannot recognise the crime that you are
accused of, but by my faith, justice shall be done if you are
guilty. Where is Mademoiselle deNevers?'
' I know not,' answered Lagardere.
'It is false,' cried the princess, impetuously.
'No, madame; I promised more than was in my power—
t hat was all.'
A murmur of disapprobation arose in the assembly.
The prisoner looked around, and in a louder tone added—
I know not Mademoiselle de Nevers.'
176 the duke's motto.
'What impudence!' said the Duke de Tresmes.
All Gonzagues' party echoed,' What impudence!'
De Michault, well versed in the rigour of the police, ad-
vised that they should at once administer the question to the
prisoner. What was the use of mincing matters.
The regent looked severely at Lagardere, and said, 'Eeflect
well, sir, upon what you are saying.'
'Your highness, reflection adds nothing and takes away
nothing from truth. I have spoken the truth.'
' Will your highness suffer this ?' cried the princess, scarcely
able to restrain her emotion. ' On my honour, on my life he
speaks false. He knows where my daughter is, for he told
me so himself just now in the garden.'
' Answer!' commanded the regent.
' Then as now, I spoke the truth,' answered Lagardere—
' then I hoped to keep my promise.'
' And now ?' cried the princess, beside herself.
' How I have no longer that hope.'
The princess fell back in her chair.
The serious part of the assembly, the ministers, the magis-
trates, looked eagerly at the prisoner—the famous swordsman,
the handsome Lagardere. Some tried to find out what there
was behind that impassible calmness. They could perceive
nothing but a melancholy resolution and calmness. Gon-
zagues' allies felt themselves too small to make much fuss in
such an august assembly—they were waiting for their patron,
who came not.
The regent continued—'And was it with vague hopes that
you wrote to the Eegent of France, saying, ' Your friend's
daughter shall be returned to you?''
'I hoped to have done so.'
'You hoped?'
'A man may be mistaken.'
'But, your highness,' cried the princess, wringing her
hands, ' do you not see he robs me of my child P I swear he
has her—he keeps her concealed. It was to him I confided
her the night of my husband's murder. I swear it!'
' You hear, sir ?' said the regent.
A slight agitation passed over the prisoner's brow, but still
with a calm voice he answered, ' The princess is mistaken.'
' Oh! cried she, madly, ' if I could only confound this
man!'
' One witness would suffice,' began the regent. He stopped,
because the prisoner had drawn himself up and stood con-
fronting Gonzagues, who just appeared at the door.
' Let the witness appear, then,' said Henri, boldly,' and
dare to confront me.'
THE AMBUSCADE.
177
Gonzagues' eyes fell before the stern glance of Lagardere.
Every one noticed it. Gonzagues tried to smile. A deep
silence reigned, in the chamber. A slight movement was per-
ceptible near the door. The yellow face of Peyrolles was
visible. Gonzagues approached.
' She is ours,' whispered the factotum,' and the papers too.'
The blood rushed into Gonzagues' cheeks with delight.
'By Heaven! that hunchback is worth his weight in gold!'
' My faith! I did him wrong,' said Peyrolles.
'No one answers, you see, your highness,' said Lagardere.
' You are judge—be just. There is before you only a poor
man deceived like yourself in his hope. I wished to do right.
I thought I might rely on a feeling the purest and most
ardent of all. I promised with the rashness of a man who
hopes for his reward. For I thought I deserved a reward,'
he added in a choked voice, his eyes fixed on the ground.
'What is there in the fellow?' asked Villeroy of Argenson.
The chancellor answered,' He is either a noble fellow or
a great rascal.'
Lagardere made a strong effort, and continued, ' Fate was
against me, your highness; that is my only crime. What I
thought I held has escaped me. I punish myself, and return
to exile.'
' That is convenient,' said Navailles.
' Michault,' whispered the regent.
' I throw myself at your highness's feet,' cried the princess.
' Forbear, madam,' interrupted the regent, who, with an
imperious gesture, commanded silence. ' Sir,' he said, ad-
dressing Lagardere, ' you are a gentleman—at least you say
so. What you have done is unworthy of the name you bear.
Let your own shame be your punishment. Your sword, sir.'
Lagardere wiped the perspiration from his brow. As he
unclasped his sword, a tear fell on his cheek.
' By Heaven!' cried Chaverny, who was in a fever, ' I would
rather they killed him.'
At the moment Lagardere gave up his sword to the Mar-
quis de Bonnivet, Chaverny turned away his head.
'We are no longer in the age when the spurs of a knight
were broken for felony; but honour still exists, thank Heaven,
and degradation is the severest punishment to a soldier. Sir,
you have no longer the right to wear a sword. Make way,
gentlemen, and let him pass; he is no longer worthy to
breathe the same air as you do.'
For a moment Lagardere looked as if, like Samson, he
could hurl down the columns of the roof upon the assembly.
His resolute features expressed such fierceness, that those
near him drew back more in fear than at the regent's desire.
12
178
THE DUKE S MOTTO.
But goon resolution succeeded to passion, and. bowing proudly,
lie said, 'I accept your bigliness's judgment without appeal.'
A distant solitude with Aurora passed before his eyes.
He moved towards the door.
The regent whispered to the princess, ' Calm yourself; he
shall be followed.'
In the middle of the room Lagardere encountered, the
Prince Gonzagucs.
' Your highness,' said the latter, 'I stop this man.'
Chaverny was in a dreadful agitation; he longed to throw
himself upon Gonzagues.
Taranne nudged Oriol. ' The little marquis is mad,' he said.
' Why do you stop this man?' asked the regent.
' Because your royal highness has been deceived. Degra-
dation is not the punishment for assassins.'
Great excitement prevailed in the assembly. The regent
rose.
' The fellow is an assassin,' said Gonzagues, laying his
naked sword on Lagardere's shoulder.
In the midst of the general confusion Gonzagues' allies
made pretence of charging.
Lagardere laughed scornfully, and seizing Gonzagues'wrist
lie drew him towards the table, crying out, ' My mark! my
mark!'
The regent's face was clouded. All stopped their breath.
4 Gonzagucs is lost,' murmured Chaverny.
Gonzagues' audacity was superb. 'Your highness,'he
said,' that mark I received eighteen years ago in defending
jNevers.'
Lagardere's arm fell, and he stood an instant astounded,
while a loud cry arose in the chamber.
'JNevers' murderer!' cried all,
JNavaillcs, JNToce, and Choisi added, ' That infernal little
hunchback told us so.'
The princess hid her face in her hands, and remained as
if transfixed. She had fainted.
Lagardere roused himself, wlien the archers, with Bon-
nivet at their head, at a sign from the regent, surrounded him.
'Infamous!' he murmured,'most infamous!' Then thrust-
ing aside with violence Bonnivct, who was about to seize him
by the collar, ' Away!' he cried, in a voice of thunder; ' touch
me at your peril!' Turning to Philip of Orleans, he added,
' Your highness, I am sacred. I liave your royal highriess's
safe-conduct.' Saying which, he drew from his pocket a
parchment and unfolded it. 'Free, whatever may happen!'
he read aloud. 'You wrote it and signed it.'
'Under false pretences,' Gonzagues tried to say.
THE AMBUSCADE.
179
' There is treachery,' began De Tresmes and Machault.
The regent by a gesture imposed silence. ' Would you
justify,' he cried,' those who say that Philip of Orleans' word
is not to be trusted ? It is written, it is signed. This man is
free. Forty-eight hours are granted him to pass the frontier.'
Lagardere moved not.
' You have heard me, sir,' said the regent, severely. 'De-
part.'
Lagardere began deliberately to tear up the parchment, and
threw the pieces at the regent's feet. ' Your highness,' he
said, ' does not know me. I give you back your promise of
that freedom which you offer me, and which is my right. I
need only twenty-four hours; that time will suffice me to
unmask a traitor, and to make a righteous cause triumph.
I have suffered sufficient humiliation as it is. On my honour,
that of Henri de Lagardere, which is as sacred, gentlemen, as
any of yours, I promise, and I swear, that by this hour - to-
morrow the princess shall have her daughter, and Severs
shall he revenged, or I will yield myself prisoner to your
highness and await my judgment.' He bowed to the regent,
and pushing aside those in his path, he said, ' Make way, I
take my right.'
Gonzagues had already disappeared.
' Give place, gentlemen,' said Philip of Orleans ; ' and you,
sir, at this hour to-morrow shall appear before your judges,
and, by Heaven! justice shall be done.'
Gonzagues' allies glided towards the door. Their part was
ended in that place.
The regent remained an instant deep in thought, then
said, ' Gentlemen, this is a most extraordinary affair.'
' A bold villain,' murmured the superintendent of police.
' Or a knight-errant of the olden time,' thought the regent,
aloud. ' To-morrow we shall se,e which.'
Lagardere, alone and without arms, descended the grand
staircase of the pavilion. In the vestibule were assembled,
Peyrolles, Taranne, Montaubert, Gironne—all those among
Gonzagues' allies who had engaged to go all lengths with him.
Three sentinels guarded the door that led to Le Brdant's
staircase. Gonzagues stood in the middle of the vestibule,
a drawn sword in his hand. The great entrance towards the
garden had been left open. All this greatly threatened an'
ambush. Lagardere paid no heed to these things; he had
the great fault of valour—that of thinking himself invulner-
able. He walked straight to the Prince Gonzagues, who
crossed his sword before him.
4 Don't be in such haste, Lagardere,' said the prince; ' we
have something to settle, All the suite are closed; no one
12—2
180
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
listens to us except those devoted friends our other selves, so
that we can talk freely.' He laughed a mocking, fiendish
laugh. Lagardere stopped, and folded his arms over his breast.
' The regent opens the doors for you,' continued Gon-
zagues, 'but I close them on you. I was Hevers' friend as
well as the regent, and I have as good a right to avenge his
death. Don't call me infamous, it is spending your breath
in vain ; lovers always find fault. Shall I tell you one thing
that will ease your, conscience greatly ? You thought it was
a falsehood, a great falsehood, you uttered in saying that
Aurora was in your power.'
A change came over Henri's face.
' Well,' continued Gonzagues, cruelly rejoicing in his
triumph, ' if you had only said, ' Aurora is no longer in my
power.'
4 If I thought,' began Lagardere, clenching his fists—'but
you lie; I know you.'
' It you had said that,' persisted Gonzagues, quietly, 'it
would have been the exact truth.'
Lagardere raised his arm as if about to fall upon Gon-
zagues, who pointed his sword between his eyes, and mur-
inured, ' Attention, all of you.' Then he continued, still
sneering, ' Well, we have gained the game nicely, Aurora is
in our power.'
' Aurora!' cried Lagardere, in a stifled voice.
' Yes, Aurora, and certain things besides.' He fell heavily
to the ground. In one bound, Lagardere had passed over his
body into the garden. Gonzagues arose, smiling.
' JNTo exit ?' lie asked Peyrolles, who was on the doorstep.
' Hone whatever. How many are there ?'
* Five,' answered Peyrolles, who listened attentively.
' Well, it is enough ; he has no sword.'
They both went out to listen nearer. The allies, pale and
aghast, listened also. They had made some way since the
previous day. Hitherto gold alone has soiled their hands;
Gonzagues wished to accustom them to the smell of blood.
The path they were descending was very slippery.
Gonzagues and Peyrolles stopped at the foot of the steps.
' What a time they are !' murmured Gonzagues.
'Time seems long,' answered Peyrolles; 'they are there
behind the tent.'
The garden was in utter darkness ; the only sound heard
was the flapping of the tents in the autumnal breeze.
' Where found you the young girl ?' asked Gonzagues, as
if he spoke to assuage his impatience.
* At the street Du Chantre, close to her own door.'
* Was she well defended P'
THE AMBUSCADE.
181
' Two sturdy swords; but they fled when we told them
that Lagard^re was in trouble.'
' You did not see their faces ?'
'No; they were able to keep on their masks all through.'
' And the papers, where were they ?'
Peyrolles had not time to answer. A cry of agony came
from behind the Indian tent, close to Le Breant's lodge.
Gonzagues' hair stood on end.
'Perhaps it is one of ours,' murmured Peyrolles, trem-
bling.
' No,' said the prince; ' I recognise his voice.'
At the same instant five dark shadows emerged from the
circle of Diana.
' Who is the chief?' asked Gonzagues.
' Gendry,' 'answered the factotum.
Gendry was a tall fellow, who had been a corporal.
' It is done,' he said. ' A stretcher and two men, and we
will carry him off.'
These words were heard in the vestibule. Our gamblers
and rakes had not a drop of blood in their veins. Oriol's
teeth chattered as if they would break.
' Oriol,' cried Gonzagues ; ' Montaubert.'
They both came forward.
' You will carry the stretcher,' said Gonzagues. As they
hesitated, he added, 'We have all killed him, as his death
benefits all.'
It was necessary to hasten before the regent dismissed his
company. Although they usually left by the grand entrance,
still some one accustomed to the palace might wish to go out
by the Court of Fountains. Oriol with a feeling heart, and
Montaubert indignant, took the stretcher; Gendry preceded
them.
' What!' cried the latter, when they got behind the Indian
tent. ' The rascal was certainly killed.'
Oriol and Montaubert were on the point of fleeing.
Montaubert, who was somewhat of a gentleman, capable of
many peccadillos, had never conceived the thought of a crime.
Oriol, a coward and a very good-natured fellow, had a perfect
horror of blood. There they were both, nevertheless ; whilst
the others—Taranne, Choisy, Albret, Gironne —waited. Gon-
zagues thought thus to secure their discretion. They had
given themselves up to him ; they only existed through him.
To draw back was to lose everything ; and, moreover, to
incur the vengeance of a man who stopped at nothing.
If they had been told at first, ' You will come to this,' no
one, perhaps, among them would have made the first step.
But the first step was made; the second also. Many a man
182 THE dtjke's motto.
at that time found -what a thin partition separated immorality
from crime. They could no longer draw "back; that is always
the fatal excuse. Gonzagues had said, ' "Who is not with me
is against me.' The evil was that they were no longer in that
enviable state of common honesty and justice in which a man
fears his own conscience far more than his fellow-man. Yice
silences the conscience, and crime kills it; hut its resurrec-
tion is indeed fearful. Assuredly they would have repulsed
with horror the thought of committing a murder with their
own hands ; but they lacked moral courage to protest openly
against a crime committed by another.
Gendry said,' He must have dragged himself a few paces
farther off to die.' He felt on the ground all round the tent
on his hands and knees. About twenty paces off he stopped,
saying,' He is here.'
Oriol and Montauhert joined him with their stretcher.
' After all,' said Montauhert, 'the blow is struck. "We do no
harm.'
Oriol's tongue was paralysed.
They helped Gendry to place on the stretcher a bodylyiDg
on the ground under some shrubs. ' He is quite warm still,'
said the corporal. * Go.'
Oriol and Montauhert lifted their burden, and conveyed it
to the pavilion. The remainder of Gonzagues' allies were
then permitted to leave.
Something had frightened them. Passing before the rustic
lodge of Le Bryant, they had heard a crushing of dried leaves,
and since then they could Lave sworn that short and uncer-
tain footsteps had followed them. In fact, the hunchback
was on their heels as they mounted the steps. He was ex-
tremely pale and walked with difficulty; hut he laughed his
sharp mocking laugh. Had it not been for Gonzagues, he
would have been ill received. He said to Gonzagues, who
noted not the change in his voice—'Well. Did he come?'
He pointed with a trembling finger to the corpse, over which
Gendry had thrown a cloak.
Gonzagues touched him on the shoulder. The hunchback
staggered and was nearly falling.
'He is drunk,' they said.
All the party entered the ball. Le Breant was too discreet
to ask the name of the gentleman that was thus carried be-
cause he had supped too well. At the Palais Boyal every
one was tolerant and discreet.
It was now four o'clock in the morning, the lamps smoked
and burned dim. The crowd of night-breakers had dispersed.
Gonzagues and Peyrolles went home. Oriol, Montauhert,
and Gendry were commissioned to throw the body into the
THE AMBUSCADE.
183
Seine. They took the street Pierre Leseot. Arrived there,
the courage of our two rakes failed entirely. Bribed with a
crown from each, Gendry suffered them to deposit their burden
on a heap of rubbish. He took the cloak; again the stretcher
was carried a few paces further, and every one retired to bed.
Thus it happened that the Baron Brabanchois, innocent as
a baby of all that had been done, awoke, and found himself
in the gutter of the street Pierre Lescot in a state that it is
needless to describe. He was the corpse that Oriol and
Montaubert had carried. The baron never vaunted himself
of this adventure, it only increased his hatred of the regent.
Twenty times at least under the late king, he had fallen under
the supper-table, yet nothing of the kind had ever happened
to him before. When he returned home, the baroness being
no doubt very uneasy about him, he said,' What manners, to
use a man of my rank thus ! I say, what must vte be coming
toF'
The hunchback went out last by the side entrance that Le
Breant guarded. He was a long time crossing the court
from thence to the street St. Honors j he had to rest often
against the houses, and a moan frequently escaped him. It
was a mistake about the hunchback being intoxicated. Had
the Prince Gonzagues not been so preoccupied with other
matters, he must have perceived that the hunchback's mirth
this night was not genuine. There were not more than ten
steps from the corner of the palace to the street Du Chantre,
yet it took him ten minutes to reach Master Louis' dwelling.
He was quite overcome, and it was only by dragging himself
up on his hands and knees that he ascended the stairs leading
to Master Louis' own room. In passing he had seen that the
Street-door had been forced open. Master Louis' chamber
had also been forced open; he passed through, and found the
door of the secret chamber forced in; on his knees he dragged
himself to the cabinet which contained the paper sealed with
three seals that we have so often described. The cabinet had
been broken open, and the sealed papers stolen. The hunch-
back threw himself on the ground in an agony of despair.
Pive o'clock struck; the first dawn of day appeared.
Slowly, very slowly, the hunchback raised himself on his
hands ; he succeeded after some time in unbuttoning his black
cloth coat, and took from under it a coat of white satin hor-
ribly soaked in blood. One might have guessed that this
brilliant dress, tumbled and creased, had served to stanch a
severe wound. Moaning, he dragged himself to a washstand,
where he found towel and water. At all events he could wash
the wound that had so stained the satin coat. The coat be-
longed to Lagardere; the wound was on the hunchback's
184 the duke's motto.
shoulder. He dressed it as hest he might, and drank some
water. Then he crouched down a little relieved.
' Nothing left!' he murmured ; ' they have deprived me of
my sword and my heart.' His head fell heavily upon liis
hands. "When he raised it, he murmured in a voice broken
by sobs—' Help me, oh my God 1 I have four-and-twenty
hours to begin again my task of eighteen years.'
CHAPTER XXXII.
the marriage contract.
Workmen had been busy all night in Gonzagues' mansion.
The offices were large. Betimes each merchant had come in
the morning to furnish his four feet square. Even the council
chamber itself had its new compartment, and the pungent
odour of new deal pervaded every place. The gardens had
undex'gone the same transmogrification. Nothing remained
of its former grandeur. A few trees reared their dishonoured
heads here and there; a few statues divided the long rows of
wooden offices which now replaced the flower gardens. In
the centre of a little court, not far from Medor's old abode,
and facing the steps of the grand entrance, was a mutilated
statue of Modesty. All parts had been crowded since day-
break. There was no lack of brokers. Buying, selling, bar-
gaining, struggling, cheating, stealing, went on prosperously.
Much business was done.
The windows of the Princess Gonzagues' apartments,
which looked towards the garden, were closed by thick shut-
ters, whilst those of the prince had only curtains over them,
bordered with gold. Daylight had not yet penetrated into
the prince's or the princess's chambers.
Master Peyrolles, whoSb apartment was at the top of the
palace, was in bed, but not asleep. He had just counted his
yesterday's gains, and added them to the contents of a coffer
already pretty well lined, that stood at the head of his bed.
This faithful Peyrolles was rich. He was miserly, or rather
avaricious ; for, if he loved money passionately, it was for the
good things which money procures. Perhaps he had his pre-
judices; still he received at all hands, and counted upon being
a great lord in his old age. Peyrolles bore the same relation
to the Prince Gonzagues that the Abb6 Dubois did to the
regent. Dubois wished to be a cardinal; we know not what
was the especial ambition of the discreet Peyrolles, except to
be a millionaire. Gendry was making his report, relating how
our two devoted conscripts, Oriol and Montauberl, had carried
THE MARRIAGE CONTRACT.
185
the body of Lagardere as far as the Marion arch, and there
thrown it into the river.
Peyrolles always shared half the profits of the miscreants
employed by Gonzagues. He paid Gendry, and dismissed
him; but the latter, before leaving, said—' Good swords are
scarce nowadays. There is now under your window an old
soldier of my company who on occasion could deal a good
blow.'
' His name ?'
' La Baleine. He is as strong and stupid as an ox.'
'-Engage him; but merely as a precaution, for I sincerely
hope we have done with all violent deeds.'
'I trust not,' answered Gendry; 'but I will engage La
Baleine.'
He descended to the garden, where La Baleine was exer-
cising his calling, trying in vain to compete with his successful
rival the hunchback, JEsop the Second. Peyrolles got up
and went to his master, where he learnt with astonishment
that others had already preceded him. The Prince Gonzagues,
in truth, was giving audience to our twro friends Cocardasse
and Passepoil; both in full feather, notwithstanding the
earliness of the hour-, brushed and fresh, having already paid
a visit to the larder.
' My fine fellows,' began Master Peyrolles, as soon as he
saw them, ' what did you do yesterday at the feteP'
Passepoil shrugged his shoulders, and Cocardasse turned
his back. ' Great as is the honour to me to serve so illustrious
a master as yourself,' said the eloquent Gascon, ' so great is
the degradation' to have anything to do with that person. Is
it not so, comrade P'
' My friend reads my own thoughts,' rejoined the Norman. -
' You have heard me,' said Gonzagues, who looked fatigued;
' you must this very morning get positive information—actual
proofs. I will learn whether he is living or dead.'
Cocardasse and Passepoil bowed in that graceful style
which distinguished them above all the ruffians in Europe.
They passed Peyrolles without deigning the slightest notice,
and went out.
' May I be permitted to ask you, prince,' said Peyrolles,
already quite pale, ' of whom you were talking as being living
or dead?'
' I was speaking of Lagardere,' answered Gonzagues, rest-
ing his tired head again on the pillow.
' But why ?' asked Peyrolles, confounded by this doubt.
' I have just paid Gendry.'
' Gendry is a knave, and you are an old dotard, Peyrolles.
"We are badly served. I have already been at work this
186 the duke's motto.
morning; I have seen Oriol and Moptaubert. "Why did not
our men accompany them to the Seine?'
' The work was done. You, yourself, prince, obliged two
of your friends '
' Friends!' echoed Gonzagues, with such disdain that Pey-
rolles stood aghast. ' I did well, and you are right,' con-
tinued the prince; ' they are my friends—at all events they
must think themselves so. Of whom should one make use
but of one's friends. I want to checkmate them. Can you
guess why ? I want to bind them even with chains. Had
the Prince de Horn only had a hundred chatterers at his
back the regent would have stopped his ears. The regent
above everything loved quiet. Hot that I fear the sad fate of
that prince.'
He broke off suddenly, seeing that Peyrolles's eyes were
stedfastly fixed upon him—' Heaven help me!' he cried, with
a constrained laugh, ' here is one already in a fright.'
'Have you anything to fear from the regent ?' asked Pey-
rolles.
' Listen,' replied Gonzagues, raising himself on his elbow.
' I swear by Heaven, that if I fall you shall be hung.'
Peyrolles drew back in terror, his eyes almost starting out
of his head.
Gonzagues burst out laughing—' Xing of tremblers, never
in my life have I been so well at court, but one never knows
what may happen. In case of attack I choose to be on my
guard; I choose to have around me not friends, there are no
friends, but slaves, not bought slaves, but slaves in chains,
living on my breath, so to speak, and fully aware themselves
that my death must prove fatal to them.'
' In regard to myself,' muttered Peyrolles, ' there was no
need.'
' Quite right; I have held you long—but the rest ? Do you
know there are fine names in my band ? Do you know that
such a party is a shield ? Havailles is cousin to a duke, Mont-
aubert is related to the Moles, the powerful lords of the
law, Choissy is of the family of Mortemart, Moce is allied to
Lauzun, Gironne to Cellamare, Ckaverny to the Princes of
Soubice.'
' Oh, Chaverny!' interrupted Peyrolles.
' He, as well as the rest,' continued Gonzagues; ' one must
find a chain to curb him, that is all. If we find not one, so
much the worse for him. But let us finish our list. Taranne
is protected by law himself; that absurd Oriol is own nephew
to the secretary of state, Leblanc; even that thick-headed
Baron de Batz has his entree to the Princess Palatine, the
regent's mother. I have not chosen my allies haphazard,
THE MARRIAGE CONTRACT.
187
you may rely on it. Vauxmenil gives rue the Duchess of
Berri. By all that is treacherous, I know that they would
throw me over for a hundred crowns, hut since yesterday they
are in my hand, and to-morrow they shall be under my feet.'
He threw off the clothes, and jumped out of bed—' My
slippers.'
Peyrolles knelt down and put them on with the best grace
in the world. Then he helped Gonzagues to put on his
dressing-gown. He was always ready for anything.
' I tell you this, friend Peyrolles, because you are my friend.'
' Oh, sir! would you confound me with those ?'
'Hot at all, no one has merited that,' interrupted the
prince, with a bitter smile ; ' but I hold you so tight, my good
Peyrolles, that I can talk to you as if you were my confessor.
One must open one's heart to some one. We were saying,
then, that they must be bound hand and foot. The cord is
only once round their necks, but we shall tighten it. You
may judge what need there is ; we have been betrayed this
very night.'
' Betrayed !' cried Peyrolles. ' By whom ?'
' By Gendry, Oriol, and Montaubert.'
'Is it possible?'
' Everything is possible, if the cord is not tight enough to
strangle them.'
'And how, sir, did you know ?' asked Peyrolles, anxiously.
' I know nothing, except that the knaves neglected their
duty.'
' Gendry has just told me that they carried the body to the
Seine.'
'Gendry lied. I know nothing, still I can hardly renounce
the hope of being at last delivered from that fiend, Lagardere.'
' But whence these doubts ?'
Gonzagues toek from beneath his pillow a paper and opened
it—'I don't know any one,' he muttered, 'who would dare
to mock me; rather a dangerous game with the Prince
Gonzagues.'
Peyrolles waited for an explanation with the greatest im-
patience.
'And on the other hand,' continued Gonzagues, 'Gendry
is a sure hand; besides, we heard his scream of agony.'
' What do you find there, prince ?' asked Peyrolles, dread-
fully uneasy, pointing to the paper.
Gonzagues placed it in his hand. It contained a list of
names: Captain Lorrain, Naples; El Matador, Glascow;
Staupitz, Nuremburg; Joel de Jugan, Morlaix; Pinto, Turin ;
Eaenza, Paris; Saldagne, Paris ; Peyrolles;—Philip of
Mantua, Prince Gonzagues.—'
188
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
The two last names were written in red ink, or in blood;
the first seven names were written in black, with a red cross
to each. Gonzagues and Peyrolles could not be ignorant of
what that mark signified.
Peyrolles held the paper in his hand, and trembled like a
leaf. ' How did you receive this?' he muttered at last.
' Early this morning ; but not before the doors were open;
for I already heard the infernal din of all those fools within
and without. In fact, the noise was deafening.' (Experience
had not yet taught him to regulate an exchange, or how to give
even to a gambling-place an air of decent propriety.) ' Every
one screamed out at once, and the concert of noises sounded
like a riot.'
Peyrolles heeded it not. ' How did you receive this ?' he
said.
Gonzagues pointed to the window that wa3 opposite his
bed, one pane of which was broken.
Peyrolles understood at once, and sought on the carpet,
where he now discovered a large stone among the broken
glass.
' It was that that awakened me,' observed Gonzagues,' and
the idea at once struck me that Lagardere might have escaped.'
Peyrolles bent his head.
' Unless,' continued Gonzagues, ' this audacious act has
been perpetrated by some ally ignorant of his master's fate.'
' Let us hope so,' murmured Peyrolles.
' At all events, I sent at once for Montaubert and Oriol.
I feigned to be ignorant of everything ; I joked, I pushed
them on. At last they owned that they had laid the body on
a heap of rubbish in the street Pierre Lescot.'
Peyrolles struck his hand on his knee with vexation. ' No-
thing more is needed,' he cried; 'a wounded man may recover.'
' We shall soon learn the truth of the matter; Cocardasse
and Passepoil are gone about it.'
' Do you trust those renegades, prince ?'
' I trust no one, friend Peyrolles, not even you. If I could
do everything myself, I would make use of no one. They com-
mitted themselves last night—stronger reason that they should
do their duty to-day. I sent for them, and ordered them to
find the two men who last night defended the young adven-
turess who takes the name of Aurora of ISTevers.' He smiled
significantly as he pronounced these words. Peyrolles re-
mained as dismal as a mute. ' And to move heaven and
earth,' continued Gonzagues, 'to find out if Lagardere had
again escaped us.' He rang, and a servant entered. 'Let
my chair be ready. Peyrolles,' he said, ' you will go as usual
to the princess's apartments and make my respects. Make
THE MARRIAGE CONTRACT.
189
good use of your eyes, and tell me if there are any alterations
in the anteroom, and if her lady's-maid answers you at once.'
'Where shall I find you, sir?'
' I am going first to the pavilion. I want to see our young
adventuress of the street St. Honore. It seems that she and
that foolish Donna Cruz are sworn friends. Afterwards I
shall go to Mr. Law's, who neglects me. Then I shall show
myself at the Palais Poyal, where my absence may do harm.
Who knows what calumny might be ventilated about me ?
All this will take a long time : but it will soon be despatched,
for I long to see our good friends. This day will not be an
idle one, rely upon it; and I have some idea of having a little
supper this evening; but we will talk of that.' He approached
the window and took up the stone.
' Before I leave you, prince, allow me to caution you about
those two fellows, Cocardasse and Passepoil.'
'I know they used you ill, my poor Peyrolles.'
' That does not matter; but something persuades me that
they betray us. They were in that affair in the moat at
Caylus, and still their names are not upon the list.'
Gonzagues hastily unrolled the paper. ' It is true,' he said ;
' their names are wanting here; but if they were in league with
Lagardere, he would have put their names first, to throw us off
our guard, that is, supposing it was he who made out the list.'
' You refine too much, prince. One cannot be too careful
in a combat for life or death. Since yesterday you stake on
the unknown. This creature—this hunchback, who, with-
out your consent, has entered into your affairs '
'You remind me of him. I must have all I can out of that
fellow.'
He looked out of the window. The hunchback was in front
of his box, and cast a piercing glance towards Gonzagues'
window. At sight of the latter, the hunchback cast down his
eyes, and bowed respectfully.
'We shall soon learn,' said Gonzagues. ' Take my word
for it, the day will be as eventful as the night, friend Pey-
rolles ; so good-bye for the present.'
The prince got into his chair to visit Donna Cruz. Peyrolles,
as he walked along the passage to the princess's apartments,
thought to himself, ' I have not that absurd love of France
that some people have. With money one can make a home
anywhere. My purse is pretty well filled, and in four-and-
twenty hours I can put my hand in the prince's coffer. The
prince is on the decline. If affairs do not look better to-
morrow, I buckle on my valise and depart in search of a more
healthy air. Surely the mine cannot burst before to-morrow.'
Cocardasse and Passepoil had promised to use their best
190 THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
endeavours to allay tlie uneasiness and. uncertainty of the
Prince Gonzagues. They were men of their word, and we
find them not far off in a public-house, eating and drinking to
their hearts' content, right merrily.
' He is not dead!' said Cocardasse, holding out his glass.
Passepoil filled, echoing ' He is not dead!' and both drank
to the health of the Chevalier Henri de Lagardere.
' Oh, zounds 1' said Cocardasse, ' do not we deserve his
sword laid about our shoulders for all the blunders that we
have committed since yesterday ?'
'We were drunk, my noble friend,' answered Passepoil;
'drunkenness is credulous! Besides, weleft him in such a strait.'
' Oh! there are no means of quieting that rogue!' said Cocar-
dasse, enthusiastically. ' If I saw him spitted and basted like a
fowl, I should only say zounds! he will get out of it somehow.'
' The fact is,' rejoined Passepoil, drinking complacently, 'he
is a fine fellow, and it does me credit to have helped on his
education.'
' Comrade, you have expressed my sentiments to a T. Let
him do what he likes to us; I am his, body and soul.'
' My noble friend,' answered Passepoil, putting his glass
on the table, ' allow me to observe that your intentions are
excellent; but your fatal love of the bottle ■'
' By Jove!' interrupted the Gascon, ' you were three times
as drunk as I was.'
'Well, well, since you take.it in that light—ho! there's
another hot tie.' He tried to clasp in his bony, thin fingers
the servant's hand as she put the wine on the table.
Cocardasse looked on him with contemptuous pity. 'My
poor friend,' he said, ' look at home.'
That morn1'ng at daybreak the two friends had been to the
house in tfie Eue du ChaDtre, and finding the door forced
open, they had felt convinced, before they reached Gonzagues'
palace, of Lagarddre's violent death. The ground floor was
unoccupied. The neighbours knew not what had become of
the beautiful young lady, Jean Marie, or Pran^oise. On the
front floor, close to the secretaire, the lock of which had been
forced, was a pool of blood. It was a fact, the rascals who
had carried off the lady in the pink domino that they were
ordered to defend, had said the truth. Lagardere was dead.
But Gonzagues himself had relieved their hopes by the com-
mission that he had. given them : he desired them to find the
body of his mortal enemy. Gonzagues, no doubt, had good
reasons for his fear. Nothing more was needed to make our
two friends merrily drink to Lagardere's health. In respect
to their second commission, to. find the fellows that had de-
fended Aurora, that was already done.
THE BOURSE UNDER THE REGENCY. 191
Cocardasse, again filling liis glass, said, '"We must invent
some story.'
' Two,' rejoined Passepoil: ' one for me, one for you.'
'Oh!' said the Gascon, 'stories cost me nothing.'
' I am a Norrnand,' said his friend. ' We shall see who can
make up the best story.'
' Do you dare challenge me ?'
'In a friendly way, my noble comrade. A little trial of
skill; we have only to remember that the corpse of the little
Parisian must be found.'
Cocardasse shrugged his shoulders. 'Zounds!' he grum-
bled, draining the last drop from the second bottle, ' my
friend would teach his master.'
It was too early to return to the palace. They must take
time for thg search. The two friends began each to make up
his story. We shall see later who succeeded best. In the
meanwhile they fell asleep, their heads on the table, and
snored in concert.
CHAPTEE XXXIII.
the bourse under the regency.
The hunchback was one of the first that entered Gonzagues'
palace as soon as the door was open ; he made his appearance
with a boy, who carried a chair, a box, a pillow, and a mat-
tress. The hunchback furnished his niche, and intended
evidently to live there, as he had the right to do by his lease.
He had inherited Medor's rights, and Medor slept in his
niche. The tenants of the little offices in Gonzagues' garden
would have liked days of four-and-twenty hours. Their ap-
petite for business was insatiable. They transacted business
on their way to and from their offices ; they dined together,
that they might eat and do business at the same time. Only
the hours of sleep were lost.
Was it not humiliating that man should be so much a
slave to material wants that he could not do any stockjobbing
in his sleep ? Stocks were on the rise. The fete at the Palais
Poyal had done wonders. It is true, none of these puny
speculators had been there; still some of them, from the
terraces of adjoining houses, had seen the ballet, which
had produced its full effect. The daughter of the Mississippi
taking from her father's well, water that changed into gold !
"What a delightful allegory, and so decidedly French—was it
not worthy of the people who later had the honour of invent-
ing the vaudeville P
At supper, between the cheese and the dessert, the
192 THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
creation of new shares had been granted. These were called
granddaughters. They were already at a premium of ten
per cent, before they were printed. The shares called
mothers were white, those named daughters were yellow, and
the granddaughters were to be blue, the colour of the sky
—distance, hope, and dreams!
In general, the shops at the corners of these streets of
wooden huts were taken by wine-merchants and publicans,
who sold ratafia with one hand while they gambled with the
other. There was a great deal of drinking going forward—it
gave zest to business. Every moment lucky speculators were
treating the sentinels that were posted at the different avenues.
Continually porters and carriers brought loads of merchandise,
which was placed in the offices, or outside in the midst of the
path. The carriage was paid enormously dear. The charges
at San Francisco can alone in our days compete with the ex-
travagant charges at the street Quincampoix, where, it is
said, two dollars are charged for blacking a pair of boots.
The street Quincampoix bore a strong resemblance to Cali-
fornia. Our age has only copied the extravagance of former
ages. It was neither gold, nor silver, nor merchandise that
was in such great demand—the all-prevailing passion was for
scrip. The white, the yellow, the mother, the daughter, and
lastly, those dear little angels that had not yet made their
entrance into the world, the granddaughters—these were
what every one wanted, cried for, scrambled after. It was
truly a scrip fever amounting to delirium. Now, a louis is
worth the same number of pence yesterday, to-day, or to-
morrow; but a granddaughter of a thous'and pence may be
worth only five hundred to-day, and two thousand to-morrow.
Down with money—heavy, old, and unchangeable. Hurrah!
for paper, light, precious, magical, which, even safely locked
up in a pocket-book, multiplies itself in so astonishing a
manner! A statue to good Mr. Law—a statue as high as the
Colossus at Kkodes.
iEsop the Second profited by this infatuation. His back,
that commodious desk that Nature had kindly endowed him
with, had not a moment's rest. Five-franc pieces rained into
his bag, but his gains gave him no pleasure; he was already
a hardened trafficker. He was not cheerful; this morning he
looked ill. To those who inquired about his health, he an-
swered—f I fatigued myself too much at the regent's ball.'
His questioners laughed, signed, paid. About ten in the
morning there was immense, terrible, extended, long accla-
mation, which shook the windows of Gonzagues' palace. The
cannon which announces the birth of a prince heir-apparent
to the crown produced not so astounding a sensation, such
THE BOURSE AND THE REGENCY.
193
clapping of hands, such hurrahing, such waving of hats, such
stamping of feet, such convulsions of joy.
The blue shares—the granddaughters—had come forth in
all their virgin bloom out of the royal printing-office. Now
rose cries of ten, fifteen, twenty premium! Twenty-five, paid
in Berri wool, in Indian spices—in silk—in wine!
'Don't press so, mother! for shame, at your age !'
' Oh, the horrid man to ill-use a woman! Are you not
ashamed ?'
' Make way—a lot of Rouen bottles!'
' Make way—cloth from Quentin, thirty premium !'
Cries of frightened women, of little men half smothered;
screeching of te nors, gro wlings of bass voices, thum pings in right
good style. The blue shares had a most marvellous success.
Oriol and Montaubert descended the slope of the palace.
They had just had their interview with Gonzagues, who had
reproved them sharply. They were silent and abashed.
'It is not a protector,' said Montaubert, as he reached
the garden, 'it is. a master, who drives where we have no
will to follow. I have a great mind to '
' And I, also,' interrupted Montaubert.
A servant in Gonzagues' livery came to them, and gave to
each a small sealed packet. They broke the seal; each con-
tained a bundle of blue shares. Oriol and Montaubert looked
at each other.
'By Jove!' said the little stockbroker, already quite
cheered, stroking the frill of his shirt, ' I call that a delicate
attention.'
' Re has a way with him,' said Montaubert, much moved,
' that is irresistible.'
They counted the granddaughters, which were sufficiently
numerous.
'Let us go shares,' cried Montaubert.
Oriol accepted. Scruples had already vanished, and gaiety
reinstalled.
All the party descended the steps, Navailles, Taranne,
Choissy, Noce, Gironne, and the rest. Each had found on
his arrival a remedy for remorse and a consolation. They
clustered together in a group.
' Gentlemen,' said Albret, ' here are some fellows who are
loaded with crowns, even in their boots. Let us go partners,
we can hold the market and do some business. A thought
has struck me.'
All echoed, ' Let us go partners.'
' May I be one ?' cried a little sharp voice, close to the
Baron de Batz.
They all turned round. The hunchback was there, lending
13
194
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
liia I)act to a hardware man, who gave all his goods for a
dozen bits of paper, and rejoiced at the exchange.
'To the devil!' cried Navailles, drawing back; 'I don't
like the fellow.'
' Be off!' ordered Gironne, brutally.
' Gentlemen, X am your servant,' returned the hunchback,
politely ; ' I rent my niche, and the garden is as much mine
as yours.'
' When I think that that creature who puzzled us so last
night is nothing but a walking desk.'
'Thinking—listening—speaking,' pronounced the hunch-
back, accentuating each word. He bowed, smiled, and went
about his business.
Navailles followed him with his eyes.
'Yesterday,' he murmured, 'I was not afraid of that
fellow.'
'Because yesterday,' whispered Montaubert, 'we could
still choose our road.'
' Your project, Albret, your project!' cried several voices.
They crowded round Albret, who spoke earnestly for a
few minutes.
' It is capital,' cried Gironne; ' I understand.'
' It is capital,' echoed the Baron de Batz; ' I understand.
But explain it to me again.'
' Ah!' cried Noce, ' never mind; let us to work in an hour,
it must be set goiDg.'
They eventually dispersed. Half of them went out at the
court by the street Magloire, to take the usual road to the
street Quincampoix. The rest walked about alone, or in
little groups, talking over the news of the day. About a
quarter of an hour later, Taranne and Choissy entered by the
gate that led to the street Quincampoix. They elbowed
their way vigorously, calling out to Oriol, who was quietly
chatting to Gironne—
' A perfect rage—a madness! They are up thirty and
thirty-five at the Venice Coffee-house ; forty and even fifty at
Banton's. In an hour they will be cent, per cent. Buy! buy!'
The hunchback laughed in his corner.
' You will have a bone to pick, my little fellow,' whispered
Noce to him; ' be wise.'
'Thanks, worthy sir,' answered iEsop, humbly; 'that is
all I want.'
The report had already got abroad that the blues would he
up cent, per cent, before night. Buyers rushed forward in
crowds. Albret, who had the shares of all the party, sold
them at once at fifty premium for ready money; he also en-
gaged for a large amount at the same price for two o'clock.
THE BOURSE AND THE REGENCY.
195
Then there entered by the same gate from the street Quin-
campoix, Oriol and Montaubert, with dreadfully long faces.
' Gentlemen,' replied Oriol to those who inquired the rea-
son of consternation, 'it is useless to repeat the fatal nevVs.'
' The stocks would go down. It will always be time enough
for bad news,' added Montaubert, with a deep sigh.
' A trick! a trick !' cried a fat tradesman, his pocket full of
granddaughters.
' Silence, Oriol,' cried Montaubert, ' you see to what you
expose yourself.'
Oriol and Montaubert remained as silent as fishes; but an
eager group of listeners crowded round them.
' Say, gentlemen, what you know,' echoed on all sides ; ' it
is your duty.'
Still Oriol and Montaubert kept silence.
' I saw the drawing,' said the Baron de Batz; ' such a break
up.'
' Break up ! why P All a trick, I tell you.'
' Peace you, there. Why a break up P'
' I don't know,' said the baron, seriously; ' down fifty per
cent.'
' Fifty per cent.! Impossible!'
' Yes, in ten minutes.'
'In ten minutes P that is a fall, indeed!'
' Oh ! truly a fall, a disaster, ruin!'
' Gentlemen,' cried Montaubert, ' have patience; don't let
us exaggerate anything.'
' Twenty blues, at fifteen premium,'was already shouted near.
' Fifteen blues at ten, and time given.'
' Twenty-five at par.'
' Gentlemen, this is madness! The carrying off of the
young king is not officially announced yet.'
' There is nothing to prove that Mr. Law has fled,' added
Oriol.
' Or that the regent is a prisoner in the Palais Boyal,' con-
eluded Montaubert, with a most disconsolate air.
There was a horrified silence. Then a thousand voices rose
in clamour, 'The young king carried off!' 'Law fled!'
' The regent prisoner,' resounded on all sides. ' Thirty shares
at fifty loss.' ' Eighty blues at sixty loss,' 'At a hundred.'
'At a hundred and fifty.'
' Gentlemen,' cried Oriol, ' don't be so hasty.'
'I will sell mine at three hundred loss,' cried Navailles,
who had not one left, 'who bags?' Oriol refused with em-
pkasis. The blues fell three hundred.
Montaubert continued. ' The Du Maine's were not
watched as narrowly as they ought to have been. They had
13—2
196 the duke's motto.
their partisans. _ The Chancellor Aguesseau is in the plot, so
are Cardinal Bissy, de Villeroy, and the Marshal Villars.
They had money from the Prince of Cellamare, Malestroit,
the Marquis of Poncallec, the richest men in Bretagne, seized
the young king on his road to Versailles, and carried him to
Nantes. The King of Spain is now passing the Pyrenees
•with an army of three hundred thousand men ; that is a fact,
unfortunately, authenticated.'
4 Sixty blues at five hundred loss!' was cried out in the
crowd, always increasing.
4 Gentlemen, don't be in such a hurry. It takes time to
bring an army from the Pyrenees to Paris. Besides, it may
be only a rumour.'
4 A rumour 1' cried the Baron de Batz. 41 have only one
share more; I let it go for five hundred francs—there.'
No one wished for the baron's share, and bids were made
with much clamour.
4 All the worse,' said Oriol, 4 if Mr. Law has not fled.'
4 But,' it was asked, 4 who keeps the regent prisoner ?'
4 Well, my good friends, you ask more than I can tell. I
am neither buying or selling, thank heaven. The Duke of
Bourbon was discontented, it seems. The clergy is spoken of
in State matters. And some pretend that the Czar is mixed
up with it all, and wants to get himself proclaimed King of
Prance.'
There was a cry of dismay. The Baron de Batz offered
his share at a hundred. At this moment of universal panic,
Albret, Taranne, Gironne, and Nocd, who had the joint funds,
made a small purchase, and were instantly marked out.
They were pointed at as madmen, they bought. In the
twinkle of an eye they were surrounded, besieged, smothered.
4 Don't tell them your name,' was whispered to Oriol and
Montaubert. The little stockbroker could hardly keep from
laughing.
4 The fools ! fools!' he murmured, with an accent of pity,
pointing to his accomplices. Then he added, addressing the
crowd, 41 am a gentleman, my friends. I have told you my
news disinterested!}'; make what use of it you please. I
wash my hands of the matter.'
Moptaubert, carrying complacency still further, cried out,
4 Buy, my friends, buy; if the intelligence is falss you will have
done a fine stroke of business.' They signed two at a time
on the hunchback's shoulders. He received on all hands, and
would not take anything but gold. Selling was the uni-
versal cry. What was called par for the blue scrip was five
thousand francs at the rate they came out at, though their
universal value was only one thousand. In twenty minutes
TIIE BOURSE AND THE REGENCY.
197
they fell some hundreds. Taranne and his allies bought im-
mensely. Their pocket-books were as puffed out as the
hunchback's bag, who laughed to himself and lent his back
for these feverish transactions. The trick was played.
Oriol and Montaubert disappeared. Very soon people ar-
riyed on all sides out of breath. Mr. Law was in his house,
the young king safe in the Tuileries, and the regent was
quietly taking his breakfast.
'A trick! a trick !'
' A trick! a vile trick !' echoed the Earon de Batz. ' I told
you it was a trick.'
Some committed suicide. About two, Albret came forward
to give up his share sold at the rate of five hundred and fifty
premium. Notwithstanding the suicides, and those who
wei;e ruined contenting themselves with tearing their hair,
Albret realized a fabulous sum. Signing the last, therefore,
on the hunchback's shoulder, Albret slid a purse into his hand.
' Come here, La Baleine,' cried the hunchback. The old
soldier came, because he had seen the purse—the hunchback
threw it at him.
Those of our readers who may wonder at the stratagem of
Oriol, Montaubert and company as too elementary, need only
read the notes of Berger upon the secret memoirs of the
Abb6 de Choisy. They will there see much grosser tricks
crowned with complete success. The history of these ras-
calities amused the popular mind. One acquired reputation
as a man of wit as well as greatly increased one's fortune by
such audacious knavery. It was good fun to every one ex-
cept the losers.
"Whilst our clever friends were dividing their gains, the
Prince Gonzagues and his faithful Pevrolles descended the
steps of the palace. The king honoured his vassals with a
visit. Business on change was as rife as ever. Gambling
went on a fresh. Other news, more or less accurate, circu-
lated. The Golden House, for a moment shaken by a spasm,
was now as hearty as ever. The Prince of Gonzagues held
in his hand a large envelope, to which hung three seals
fastened by silken cords. When the hunchback perceived
this paper his eyes opened wide, and the blood mounted to
his pale cheeks. He did not stir, but continued his employ-
ment; still his eyes were fastened on Gonzagues and Peyrolles.
' How is the princess ?' asked the former.
' The princess did not close her eyes all night, and the
lady's-maid heard her often murmur if it were in truth
Nevers' child.'
' Thank Heaven!' muttered Gonzagues. ' If she has already
come to that, itwould be all over if she once saw the young lady.'
198
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
' There is a likeness ?' asked Peyrolles.
' Like two raindrops. Do you remember Nevers ?'
' Yes,' replied Peyrolles ; ' he was a fine young man.'
' His daughter is as beautiful as an angel—the same look,
the same smile.'
' What 1 can she smile already ?'
' She is with Donna Cruz, who consoles her; they knew
each other previously. The sight of that child moved me.
If I had a daughter like her, friend Peyrolles, I think
Put what madness! of what should I repent. Have I done
evil for evil's sake ? I have my end in view, and walk to-
wards it. If there are obstacles '
4 So much the worse for the obstacles,' murmured Peyrolles,
smiling.
Gonzagues passed his hand over his forehead.
Peyrolles touched the sealed envelope.
' Do you think, prince, that we have hit the mark?'
' Undoubtedly,' answered Gonzagues ; ' the seal of Nevers
and the great seal of the parochial chapel of Caylus Tar-
rides.'
' You think it contains the pages torn from the registry?'
' I am sure of it. Your highness could assure yourself by
opening the envelope.'
' Don't think of it!' cried Gonzagues; 'break those seals!
Why, man, each of those seals is worth a dozen witnesses!
We will break the seals, friend, at the right moment, when
at the family council we shall present the real heiress of
Nevers.'
' The real!' repeated the factotum, involuntarily.
' She who is the real one to us, and the evidence will speak
for itself.'
Peyrolles bowed. The hunchback looked on.
' Put what shall we do with the other young girl, prince ?'
asked Peyrolles.
' Confounded hunchback!' cried a dealer, who was just
writing on iEsop's back. 'What do you stir for?'
The hunchback had in fact made an involuntary movement
to approach Gonzagues.
The latter reflected. ' I have thought of that,' he said,
talking to himself.
' What would you do with the girl, friend Peyrolles, were
you in my place ?'
A sinister smile passed over the factotum's face.
Gonzagues understood it, for he said—' No, no! I don't
choose; I have another project. Tell me which of our satel-
lite's is the most lost—ruined ?'
'Chavernvl' replied Peyrolles, without hesitation-
THE HUNCHBACK'S CAPRICE.
199
' Be still, hunchback !' cried a fresh endorser.
4 Chaverny,' repeated Gonzagues, whose face cleared again.
'I like the fellow, but he is in my way, and it will rid me of
him.'
CHAPTER XXXIY.
the hunchback's caprice.
Our fortunate speculators, Taranne, Albret, and company,
haying finished their partition, showed themselves again in
the crowd. They had grown some inches taller, and were
looked upon with much respect.
4 Where is, then, dear Chaverny ?' asked Gonzagues.
Just as Peyrolles was about to reply, a great tumult arose
in the crowd. Every one rushed to the steps towards which
some soldiers were dragging an unfortunate man by the hair.
4 It is a false one—a false one!' they cried. 4 Oh! whac a
shame! to counterfeit the nation's credit!' 4 Profane the
symbol of public credit!' 4 Fetter business ! ruin commerce!
To the water with the forger—the wretch!'
The fat little stock-jobber, Oriol, and the others cried
louder than the rest.
The poor wretch, terrified and half dead, was brought before
Gonzagues. His crime was having made a white share blue
for the sake of the little advantage gained by the most fashion-
able colour.
'Pardon! pardon!' he cried; 41 did not comprehend the
enormity of my crime !'
4 Prince,' said Peyrolles, 4 there are so many forgers now.'
'Prince,' added Montaubert, 'make an example of him.'
And the crowd cried—4A forger! a counterfeiter! No
pardon ! the wretch!'
4 Take him away,' said Gonzagues, turning away his head.
The crowd actually seized the poor fellow, crying out—4 To
the river with him!'
It was five o'clock in the evening. The first stroke of the
bell for closing was heard from the street Quincampoix. The
terrible accidents that occurred daily had determined the
authorities to forbid the transfer of shares after dusk. It was
always at the last moment that the delirium of gambling
reached its height. One might have taken it for an affray.
The noises increased until they all made one mighty roar.
The hunchback had enough to do, but his eyes never quitted
Gonzagues. He had heard Chaverny's name.
4 They are going to close! They close! Make haste!' cried
the impatient crowd.
200
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
If JEsop the Second had had a dozen humps what a fortune
it would have been.
'What were you going to say about the Marquis of
Chaverny, prince ?' asked Peyrolles.
Gonzagues was just bowing to his allies in a haughty,
patronizing way. He had truly increased in importance since
last night, because they had diminished.
' Chaverny,' he said, absently,' yes, Chaverny; remind me
presently that I speak to the hunchback.'
' And the young lady; is it not dangerous to leave her at
the Pavilion P'
'Very dangerous; she shall not stay long. And whilst I
think of it, we will sup with Donna Cruz to-night—a select
party of friends. Let everything be in readiness.'
He added a few words in Peyrolles' ear, who bowed, and
said—'Enough, your highness.'
'Now then, hunchback,' cried an angry endorser, 'you
stagger like a little idiot! Eriends! we shall have to take
Baleine again.'
Peyrolles took leave. The prince called him back.
' Pind me Chaverny,' he said; ' dead or alive, I must have
Chaverny.'
The hunchback shook his back just as some one was signing.
' I am tired,' he said, ' and need repose—that is the bell.'
The last bell was rung, and the porters passed, clinking
their keys. In a few minutes nothing was heard but the
noise of fastening the padlocks. Each proprietor had his
key, and the unsold or the unchanged merchandize was locked
in the offices. The keepers hurried the tardy. Our allied
speculators approached Gonzagues, whom they surrounded,
hat in hand. Gonzagues had his eye fixed on the hunchback,
who, seated on the pavement close to his niche, did not look
at all disposed to leave. He was quietly counting the con-
tents of liis large leathern bag, and had in appearance much
pleasure in so doing.
' We came this morning to see how you were, cousin,' said
Navailies.
'And we were happy to find,' added Noce, ' that you had
not suffered too much fatigue from last night's fete.'
' There is one thing much more fatiguing than pleasure,'
answered Gonzagues ; 'it is anxiety.'
' The fact is,' said Oriol, determined at all ventures to put
in a word ; ' the truth is, that anxiety .... I am just the
same,—uhen one is anxious.'
Generally Gonzagues was a good-natured prince, and came
to the aid of his courtiers who muddled themselves; but now
he allowed Oriol to flounder.
THE HUNCHBACK'S CAPRICE.
201
The hunchback laughed to himself. When he had finished
counting his money he fastened up his bag securely, and was
about to enter his hut.
' Come, Jona,' cried a porter; ' do you think of sleeping
here P'
'Yes, friend, I have brought my bed.'
The porter burst out laughing. The gentlemen followed
suit except the prince.
' Come—come!' said the porter; ' no joking, my little man j
be off, and quickly too!'
The hunchback slammed the door in his face.
As the porter kicked lustily at the door, the hunchback
showed his head out of the little skylight on the low roof.
'Justice! your highness; justice!' he cried.
' Justice !' repeated the gentlemen, in jest.
' It is a pity Chaverny is not here,' added Navailles 5 ' he
could have delivered judgment in this serious matter.'
Gonzagues commanded silence with a gesture. ' Every one
must leave at the sound of the bell,' he said; ' that is the rule.'
' Prince,' replied JEsop, with the precise air of a lawyer
who gives forth his arguments, ' I beg you to consider that I
am not in the position of every one. Every one has not
rented your dog's place.'
'Weil argued !' cried some.
Others said—' But what does that prove P'
'Was Medor,' continued the hunchback, 'in the habit of
sleeping in his niche—yes or no ?'
' Well proven! well proven!'
' If M6aor was used, as I can prove, to sleep in his niche, I
who, on the payment of thirty thousand francs, have succeeded
to the rights and privileges of Medor, I desire to do the
same, unless I am violently expelled?'
Gonzagues smiled, and expressed his approbation by a nod.
The porter retired.
' Come here,' "said the prince.
Jona came directly out of his niche. He approached and
bowed.
' Why do you wish to live there P' asked Gonzagues.
'Because the place is mine, and I have a good deal of money.'
' Then you made a good bargain in your niche P'
' A golden one, your highness ; I knew I should.'
Gonzagues put his hand on his shoulder, the hunchback
uttered a cry of pain. The same had happened to him the
evening before in the vestibule of the regent.
' What is the matter ?' cried the prince, astonished.
'A souvenir of the ball, sir; a sprain.'
'Erom dancing too much,' cried the party.
202
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
Gonzagues turned his face disdainfully towards them.
'You are disposed to jest, gentlemen,' he said; 'and I
might feel the same. But we should be- much in the wrong,
for he has much greater reason to laugh at us.'
'Ah, prince,' cried Jona, modestly.
' I say it because I think it, gentlemen,' replied Gonzagues.
' Here is your master; he was more useful to me yesterday
than all of you together. He promised Lagardere should
come to the regent's ball, and Lagardere came.'
' If the prince had pleased to have charged us ' began
Oriol.
' Gentlemen,' said Gonzagues,' it is not so easy fro control
Lagardere. I hope we may never have further proof of
that fact.'
They all cast questioning looks on each other.
' "\Ye may talk openly, for I intend to attach that fellow to
me. I trust him.'
The hunchback bridled at these words.
The prince continued, ' I trust him, and I would say
before him as I would before you, gentlemen, ' If Lagardere
is not dead, all our lives are in danger.'
There was a deep silence. The hunchback looked more
astonished than any one. 'Did you let him escape?' he
murmured.
' I have not; my men are late. I am uneasy. I would
give much to know what to think.'
Around him financiers and gentlemen tried to look at their
ease; some of them were brave; Navailles, Choisy, Noce,
Gironne, had given proofs of valour. But the three stock-
brokers were very pale, especially Oriol, and the Baron de
Batz looked almost green.
'We are, thank Heaven! pretty numerous and pretty
strong,' began Navailles.
' You speak without knowing,' interrupted Gonzagues.
' I wish no one trembled more than I do, -if at least we have
to deal the blow.'
' By Heaven! we are yours to the backbone,' cried all.
' Gentlemen,' said the prince, drily, ' I know it. I so
arranged it.'
If any were discontented no one showed it.
'In the meanwhile,'continued Gonzagues, 'let me settle
your account. You rendered me a great service, friend.'
' How, prince ?'
' No false modesty, I beg. You did your work well; ask
for your reward.'
' Eeally,' he muttered, ' it is not worth ' The hunch-
back had his sash in his hand, and played with the string.
THE HUNCHBACK'S CAPRICE.
203
'By Jove!' criedTIonzagues, ryou wish some very great
reward.'
The hunchback fixed his eyes on him, but did not answer.
'I told you before,' said the prince, beginning to get
impatient, 'I accept nothing for nothing. All gratuitous
service is too dear for me, for it hides treachery. Ask your
reward, I command.'
' Come, Jona,' cried the allies,' wish for something ; here
is the king of the genii.'
' Since his highness wishes it,' began the hunchback, with
increased embarrassment. ' But how can I dare to make the
request ?' He cast down his eyes, and twiddled his leg. His
highness will laugh.'
'I lay a hundred our friend is in love,' cried Navailles.
All burst out laughing; Gonzagues and the hunchback
alone maintained their gravity.
Gonzagues knew that he should have further need of the
hunchback. Gonzagues was avaricious, but not penurious.
Money was nothing to him; on fitting occasions he could
dispense it liberally. At this moment he wished for two
things—to win this mysterious being, and to know him;
therefore, he manoeuvred to effect his double purpose.
Far from hindering him, his courtiers only made more
evident his good feeling towards the little man.
'Wherefore,' he asked, severely, 'should he not be in
love ? And if it depends on me, I swear that he shall be
happy. There are some services which money cannot
purchase.'
'Prince,' cried the hunchback, 'I thank you. Love,
ambition, curiosity; I know not how to name the passion that
devours me. These gentlemen laugh, they are right—but I
suffer.'
Gonzagues held out his hand.
The hunchback kissed it, but his lips trembled. He con-
tinued in so impressive a tone that our rakes lost their gaiety:
'Curiosity, ambition, love—what matters the name—death
is death, whether it comes with fever, poison, or the sword.
Man is little, but he moves the world. Have you sometimes
seen the sea raging in its fury ? Have you seen its mighty
waves dashing up the spray towards the dark sky ? Have you
heard its deep roaring waves, louder even than the thunder ?
Nothing resists its force; even the granite rocks on its shores
are wasted by its ceaseless tides. Well, there is a frail log of
wood floating over its stormy waves. And what is there on
the log ?—a being still more fragile than itself, that looks no
bigger than a bird—but the bird has wings, which the frail
being has not. It is a man—he trembles not. What magic
204 the duke's motto.
power supports liis weakness ; comes it from heaven, or from
hell ? Man (this dwarf naked and without talons, wool, or
wings) has said, 41 will; and the ocean itself was conquered ?''
All listened. The hunchback's face seemed changed.
4 Have you seen a fire, the flames and thick pillars of smoke
rising up into the burnished sky ? It is night, still the distant
buildings come forth from darkness, lighted up by the fearful
glare. It is a grand sight, still it makes one shudder; the
building itself looks ghastly with open doors and frameless
windows ; and then behind, the warring element raging in its
fury like hell itself. It is as grand and furious as the storm,
or menacing as the sea. How useless to strive against fire;
it reduces marble to dust, the sturdy oak to a heap of ashes;
iron melts before it. Well, upon this ghastly wall, among
the flame, destroying all around, is a small dark object, an
insect, an atom. It is a man ; he fears not fire more than
the raging ocean. He is king; he says I will, and the power-
less fire feeds on itself, and dies.' The hunchback cast a
sly look around, and laughed his dry, grating laugh. 4 Oh,
I have led a miserable life hitherto. I am little—but I am
a man. Why should not I be in love ? Why not ambitious?
Answer. I am no longer young, but what was youth to me ?
You think me ugly, do you not ? Oh, I was more ugly once;
time effaces ugliness as well as beauty. You lose, I gain;
in the grave we shall all be equal.' He laughed again, re-
garding Gonzagues' allies one after the other. 4 There is some-
thing worse than ugliness—it is poverty. I am poor, without
parents. I think my father and mother must have shuddered
at me at my birth, and thrust my cradle out of doors. Ily
infant eyes opened on misery and want, my first sensation was
pain. What woman nursed me ? Oh! how I could have loved
her. If any one prays for me in heaven it is she. My child-
hood was one long curse, my bed was the pavement, my food
the scraps thrown to the dogs, my education labour. A good
school, gentlemen. If you knew how hardened I am to
injuries; but kindness intoxicates me, as wine gets into the
head of one who never drinks anything but water.'
4 You must hate well, friend,' murmured Gonzagues.
4 Your highness is in the right. I have heard people regret
their childhood ; but not I. Even as a child anger raged in
my heart. What, think you, excited it ? The joys of others.
Others were handsome, had fathers and mothers. Did this
give them pity for the solitary and deserted one ? Ho; so
much the better. What made me what I am—what har-
dened my mind and tempered it to evil was raillery and
disdain. It kills sometimes, but it did not kill me. Evil re-
vealed to me my strength. Once strong, was I revengeful ?
THE HUNCHBACK'S CAPRICE.
205
My masters, those who were my enemies are not there to
say so.'
There was something at once so_strange and so minute in
these words that every one was silent. Our scoffers had lost
their mocking laugh. Gonzagues listened attentively and
surprised.
' As soon as I was strong,' continued the hunchback, ' I
longed to be rich. For ten years I worked on in the midst
of sneers and execrations. The first penny was difficult to
gain, the second less so, the third came of itself. What
efforts I made to earn my first louis d'or ! I kept it; when
I am discouraged I look at it, the sight kindles my pride—
pride is man's strength. Little by little I scraped together.
I stinted myself in food ; I was clothed in rags, and I slept
on the floor; but my treasure increased. I craved still.'
' Then you are covetous ?' said Gonzagues, quickly, as if
the discovery gave him pleasure.
'Would to Heaven 'I were!' answered the hunchback.
'Would that I could love my poor crowns as the lover loves
his mistress. Oh, it is much to have something to love!
What is happiness if it is not an object in life, something to
live for P I wish I could love money, but I cannot.' He
heaved a heavy sigh. ' I was happy one day, only one day.
I concealed my treasure, and found it twice as much as I
expected. In my delight I repeated, I am rich, I am rich;
I will buy happiness. I looked around me—no one. I took
a mirror. Wrinkled, and white hair already, and but yester-
day I was a child. I crushed the glass. A voice cried,
'Well done; thus should be treated all truth-tellers in this
world.' And the same voice added—' Gold is good, gold is
power. Sow gold, hunchback, and you will reap youth and
beauty.' I felt I was mad, prince. I wandered through the
streets seeking one kind face that would smile on me.
' Hunchback,' said the men, to whom I held out my hand.
'Hunchback,' echoed the women, whose sympathy I so
longed'for. All mocked me. Oh, it is false that gold rules
the world.'
'You ought to have shown your gold,' cried Navailles.
'I showed it,' continued Jona, ' and hands were held out,
not to take mine in friendship, but to pick my pockets. I
wished to draw towards my fireside a mistress, I found only
thieves. You smile, perhaps ; I shed tears of blood. But it
was only one night. Friendship, love, follies ! For me plea-
sure such as can be bought by any one.'
' Friend,' interrupted Gonzagues, ' shall I learn at last what
you want of me ?'
' I am coming to it, prince,' replied Jona, changing his
206 THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
tone once more. 4 I came forth from my retreat, timid but
ardent, the passion to enjoy awoke strongly in me. I tried
to discover the secret longing—to discover whence came this
breeze of hitherto unknown enjoyment.'
'Well?' said Gonzagues.
4 The breeze came from your palace!'
CHAPTER XXXV.
gascon and noeman.
The last words were said with a cheerful voice. Gonzagues'
allies, even Gonzagues himself, so serious before, began to
laugh. The hunchback seemed to have the secret of regu-
lating the general humour.
4 Oh,' said the prince, 4 the breeze came from my palace ?'
4 Yes, prince ; even on the threshold I found I was in the
right place. I know not what celestial perfume entered my
brain ; it intoxicated me—I long for it."
4 Sir iEsop is not fastidious,' cried Navailles.
4 Quite a connoisseur,' added Oriol.
The hunchback looked at him fixedly.
'You who carry burdens of a night,' he said, 'you will
understand what efforts one will make to satisfy a wish.'
Oriol turned pale.
Montaubert cried—4 "What can he mean ?'
4 Explain yourself, friend,' commanded Gonzagues.
'Prince,' replied the hunchback, quietly, 4 that is soon
done. I had the honour, you know, to leave the Palais Eoyal
tl|e same time that you did. I saw two gentlemen harnessed
to a barrow. It is unusual, I thought; they must be well
paid for it.'
4 Does he know ?' asked Oriol, in alarm.
4 What there was in the litter ?" interrupted the hunchback.
4 Certainly. There was a tipsy old gentleman, who took my
arm to help him home.'
'And do you know what became of Lagardere?' asked
Gonzagues, in a low voice.
'Eh! eh! Gendry is a good sword,'answered the hunch-
back; 41 was close to him when he struck. It was well
done, I answer for it. Those that you have sent to find out
will tell you the rest.'
4 They'delay.'
4 Oh, it takes time. Coeardasse and Passepoil '
'You know them, then?' interrupted Gonzagues, bewil-
dered.
GASCON AND NOEMAN.
207
4 I know every one, your highness.'
4 By all the accursed fiends! I don't like those who know
so many people and so many things.'
4 It may be dangerous, I own, sir,' replied the hunchback,
quietly; 4 but it is sometimes useful. Be just—had I not
known this Lagardthe '
f The deuce! if I would have anything to do with that fel-
low,' murmured Navailles behind Gonzagues.
He thought, he had not been heard, but the hunchback an-
ewered—4 There you would be in the wrong.'
Every one else agreed with Navailles. Gonzagues alone
hesitated.
The hunchback continued, as if he played with Gonzagues'
irresolution—' I was going to say, that when I reached your
threshold, I hesitated—I doubted. This was the paradise I
coveted, not that of the church, but that of Mahomet—beau-
tiful women, good wine, nymphs crowned with flowers, water
sparkling in the glass. I was ready to do anything to gain
admittance into this voluptuous Eden. To hide my nothing-
ness under your princely mantle—before entering, I asked
myself that.'
4 Because you were ready to do anything P' interrupted
Gonzagues.
4 Everything,' answered the hunchback, resolutely.
4 By Heaven! a furious longing after pleasure and nobility.'
4 Eor forty years I have dreamt—my longings have brought
grey hairs.'
'Listen!' said the prince; 4 nobility can be bought. Ask
Oriol.'
41 do not wish for purchased rank.'
4 Ask him if a name weighs heavy.'
4 A name, a hunch—two burdens that crush only poor
spirits. I am too little to be compared to a great financier
like Mr. Oriol. If his name is a burden, so much the worse
for him. My hump is no inconvenience to me. The Mar6-
chal of Luxembourg has a hunch—did the enemy see it at the
battle of Herwinde. Tirtee was lame and hunchbacked; so
was Yulcan, the forger of thunder. iEsop, whose name you
honour me with, had a hunch, which was wisdom. Atlas's
hunch was the world. Hot to place mine on a par with those
illustrious hunches, I may say at least that it is worth to me
fifty thousand crowns. What should I be without it ? It is
my treasure!'
4 So it is, friend! there is some sense in it. I promise
that you shall be a gentleman.'
4 Thanks, sir; but when P'
4 How impatient he is!' cried the party.
208
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
' We must have time,' answered Gonzagues.
' They say true, I am impatient,' answered iEsop. ' Pardon
me, prince; you have just told me that you do not like gra-
tuitous service; that emboldens me to ask my reward at
once.'
' At once,' cried Gonzagues, ' it is impossible.'
He drew near and said in an insinuating tone, ' One need
not be a gentleman, for example, to sit next Mr. Oriol at the
little supper to-night.'
Every one burst out laughing except Oriol and the prince.
' You know that,' said the latter, knitting his brows.
' Only two words uttered by chance,' answered the hunch-
back, humbly.
The other cried, ' Then there is a supper.'
' Oh! prince,' cried .ZEsop, ' it is the torture of Tantalus I
suffer; a pavilion with its secret entrance, its shady garden,
its delicate boudoir where the light penetrates through silken
curtains ; pictures on the ceilings, nymphs and lovers, butter-
flies and roses. A gilded drawing-room, all smiles. I see the
lights which dazzle me;' he put his hand before his face.
' I see the flowers and breathe their perfume, and then the
exquisite wine sparkling in the cup whilst a bevy of lovely
women '
' He is intoxicated before he is invited,' cried Havailles.
' It is true,' cried the hunchback, whose eyes sparkled.
' If the prince wishes, I will invite Nivelle.'
' She is invited,' answered Gonzagues, and as if he wished to
exalt the extravagant caprice of the hunchback, he said,' This
supper is not an ordinary supper.'
' What will there be P—shall we see the czar ?'
' Guess.'
' A comedy, Mr. Law. The monkeys from St. Germains.'
' Better than that, gentlemen; do you give it up ? There
will be a marriage.'
The hunchback shuddered, but it was placed to the account
of his delight. ' A wedding,' he said, joining his hands, 'after
a supper.'
' Yes,' said Gonzagues,' a real wedding with all ceremony.'
' But who is to be married?' cried they all. ~
The hunchback held his breath.
As Gonzagues was about to answer, Peyrolles appeared on
the steps, and cried,' Good news; our men have come back.'
Cocardasse and Passepoil were behind him, with that proud
calmness on their faces that becomes men who know their
own value.
' Eriend,' said Gonzagues,' we have not finished yet; don't
go away.'
GASCON AND NORMAN. 209
'I am at your orders.' And iEsop the Second turned
towards his niche; he had much to think of. "When he
had entered his abode and thrown himself on the mattress,
he muttered to himself, 4 A marriage, a scandal; but it cannot
be a useless parody. Gonzagues does nothing without an
end in view. What can there be under this plot ? His aim
escapes me, and time is precious. Oh, whether he will or no
I will, by Heaven, be at that supper.'
'Well, what now?' cried the curious courtiers, already
personally interested in Lagardere's fate.
4 The fellows will only speak to his highness,' said Peyrolles.
Cocardasse and Passepoil, rested by a long sleep on the
coffee-house table, were as fresh as roses., They proudly
passed by the rakes of inferior note, and marched straight
up to Gonzagues, whom they saluted with the calm dignity of
fencing masters.
4 Come,' said the prince,' speak quickly.'
Cocardasse and Passepoil turned one towards the other.
4 You begin, my noble friend,' said the Norman.
'Not so, my friend; you speak first.'
' By all that's sacred 1 Ho you keep us in suspense ?' cried
Gonzagues.
They began both together in a loud tone and with much
volubility,4 Prince, to merit your honourable trust '
'Peace,' cried the prince; 4 speak each in turn.'
New struggle of politeness. Then Passepoil said, 'Being
the youngest, and also of lower rank, I obey my noble friend,
and begin. I have luckily succeeded in my mission. If I
have been more fortunate than my noble friend, it is not from
my own merit.'
Cocardasse smiled proudly and stroked his moustache.
We must not forget there was a challenge of skill between
these amiable rascals. Before giving their proofs of eloquence
we must mention that they were not easy in their minds ;
they had been twice to the street Du Chantre, but could
obtain no news of Lagardere. What could have become of
him ? On this subject they were totally ignorant.
4 Be brief,' ordered Gonzagues.
'Concise and precise,'added Navailles.
' This is the matter in two words,' said Passepoil. ' Truth is
seldom long in'telling, that is my opinion, and I have had some
experience; but to the point. I went out this morning
according to the prince's orders. My noble friend and I said,
Two chances are better than one. Let us each follow our
scent. Therefore we separated at the Market of the Innocents.
"What my friend did, I know not. I betook myself to the
Palais Boyal, where the workmen were taking down the
210 THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
decorations of tlie fete. They talked of but one tiling; they
had found a pool of blood between the Indian tent and old
Le Breant's lodge. So far, so good; I was sure a blow had
been struck. I looked at the pool of blood and marked the
trace. Ah, it required good eyes to see it from the Indian
tent to the Btreet of St. Honore. Passing the regent's
pavilion, the servants asked me what I was looking for. I
answered, The portrait of my lady-love <; and they laughed,
stupid fools as they were. If I had the portraits of all my
lady-loves I should have a heavy rent to pay for walls to hang
them on.'
' Make haste,' said Gonzagues.
' Prince, I will do my best. So many carts and carriages
pass the street St. Honore, I lost the trace. I went straight
to the river.'
' Which way ?'
' By the street of the Oratoire,' answered Passepoil.
Gonzagues and his allies exchanged a glance.
If Passepoil had spoken of the street Pierre Lescot, the
silly adventure of Oriol and Montaubert being known, he
would not have been believed. But Lagardere might have
passed the street of the Oratoire.
Passepoil continued ingenuously. 'I speak to you as. to my
confessor. The traces began again there, and I followed
them to the river's brink. There were boatmen talking; one
of them, a Picard, said, 4 There were three. The gentleman
was wounded, and after having taken his purse, they threw
him off the bank into the Seine.' 'My friends,' I said,
' did you see the gentleman ?' At first they would not answer,
thinking I was a spy of the police, but I said I was of the
household of M. St. Saurin, a gentleman and a Christian.
'God take his soul,' they said, 'we saw it.' 'How was
he dressed, my friends ?' ' He had a black mask on and a
white satin coat.'
There was a murmur of approbation. Signs were ex-
changed; Gonzagues nodded approvingly. Cocardasse alone
smiled derisively. He said,' My friend is a clever Norman,
but my turn will come.'
' So far so good,' said Passepoil, encouraged by his success.
' If I do not talk like a man of letters it is that the sword
is my weapon, besides, the prince's presence makes me
diffident. I am too frank to hide anything. Truth is truth,—
speak the truth, and shame the devil. I followed the river
by the Tuileries, the Cours la Heine to Passy, then on past
the Pont du Jour to Sevres. Then I came to the bridge at
St. Cloud.'
' The water,' murmured Oriol;
GASCON AND NORMAN. 211
4 The water; the gentleman has put his finger on it.'
'Not bad,' said Cocardasse ; 41 shall be able to make some-
thing of that fellow.'
4 And what did you find in the water?' asked Gonzagues,
doubtfully.
Passepoil unbuttoned his coat. Cocardasse opened his
eyes; he had not expected this. What Passepoil took from
under his coat he had not found in the water at St. Cloud,
which he had never seen, and might have been then as they are
to-day, a popular fallacy. What Passepoil took out, he had
found in Lagarddre's apartment on his first visit. He had
taken it without any especial motive, only from the good habit
of letting nothing be lost. Cocardasse had not even per-
ceived it. It was nothing' less than the white satin coat
Lagarddre had worn at the regent's ball. Passepoil had
dipped it in a tub of of water at the coffee-house : he held
it towards the, prince, who drew back with horror. Every
one felt the same, for all recognised Lagardere's clothes.
4 Sir, the corpse was too heavy—I could not bring that,' said
Passepoil, modestly.
4 Afi,' thought Cocardasse,41 must mind my p's and q's.'
4 And you saw the body, friend ?' asked Peyrolles.
'Hot so much familiarity,' replied Passepoil, proudly; 4 did
we keep our father's sheep together, that you should call me
friend ?'
4 Answer the question,' said Gonzagues.
4 The water was thick and deep,' replied Passepoil; 4 let me
not affirm what I am not certain of.'
4 Ah!' cried Cocardasse,41 have him there. If my comrade
had lied, I would never have seen his face again.' He ap-
proached the Norman and gave him a chivalric hug. 4 You
told the truth, my brave fellow, for how could the body be at
St. Cloud, since I have just seen it two good leagues off?'
All eyes were turned towards Cocardasse.
' My friend,' continued he, addressing Passepoil,4 the prince
will allow me to bear witness of your sincerity. Such men as
you are rare, and I am proud of being your brother in arms.'
4 Come,' said Gonzagues, 41 want to ask the fellow a
question. What news of the two bravos who defended the
lady in the pink domino ?'
41 own, sir, I gave all my time to the other matter.'
44 You must not expect more of a poor fellow than he can
do,' began Cocardasse, shrugging his shoulders. 4 My comi^de
did what he could. I am satisfied with you, Passepoil—I
approve you highly—still, I will confess you have not yet
reached my height.'
'You have done better?' asked Gonzagues, suspiciously.
14—-2
212 the duke's motto.
' Improve, as they say in Florence. When Cocardasse looks
for a thing, sandieou, he finds something better than a wet rag.'
'Well, what have you done P'
' First, prince, I have talked with those fellows ; secondly,
I have seen the body.'
' You are sure?' cried Gonzagues.
* Speak, speak,' added the others.
Cocardasse put his hand on his lips. ' Let us proceed in
order. I love my office, and those who think one can succeed
in it at once, are fools. It requires natural and acquired
talents, instinct, a quick eye, a fine ear, a firm foot, a strong
arm, a bold heart. Thank Heaven, we have all. Quitting my
comrade at the Market of the Innocents, I said to myself,
' Cocardasse, my fine fellow, reflect a little—where are swords-
men to be found P In a tavern—good!' I sought from door
to door ; I put my nose in everywhere. Do you know the
Negro's Head in the street St. Thomas: it is always full of
these gentry. ' Good day, countrymen,' I said; ' Eh, good
day, Cocardasse.' I knew them as well as father and mother.
I just took them to the bank by the side of St. Germain
l'Auxerrois. We had a little talk of prime, tierce, and so on:
they wont defend any one again, night or day.'
' You wounded themP' asked Gonzagues, who did not com-
prehend.
Cocardasse made two thrusts, and then stood grave and
proud. ' They were only two—I have done greater things
than that.'
CHAPTER XXXVI.
the invitation.
Fassepoil looked at his noble friend with admiration, even
tenderness. Scarcely had Cocardasse begun the story than
Passepoil owned himself vanquished. His was a gentle
nature, as commendable for its humble virtues as Cocardasse
for his more brilliant qualities.
Gonzagues' allies exchanged astonished glances and
whispered to each other. Cocardasse proudly pointed up
the ends of his immense mustachios. ' The prince,' he said,
' gave me two commissions ; I will say no more of the one,
the other I will relate. On leaving, my comrade, I said
to myself, ' Cocardasse, answer frankly, where can one
find bodies?' 'Along by the water!' Well, I walked
down by the Seine; one must be early to find any thing there,
there was nothing left but water. I had lost my chance.
It was not altogether my fault, but there was no help for it;
THIS INVITATION. 213
so I said to myself, ' Cocardasse, my line fellow, you would
die of shame to appear before the prince like a fool, without
having fulfilled his instructions.' Well, when one had the
thread, means were not wanting. I walked with my hands
behind my back, and I said to myself,' How well the statue of
Henry the Fourth looks from here!' I went up to the
Faubourg St. Jacques. Passepoil!'
'Well! Cocardasse P'
'Do you remember the little provincial, the red-headed
Massabiou, who dragged off cloaks at the turnstile of Notre
DameP'
' He was hung ?'
'No, indeed; Massabiou gains a living by selling fresh
bodies to the surgeons.'
' Go on,' cried Gonzagues.
_' Eh, your highness, it ia not a bad trade, but if I abuse your
highness's patience, I will be as silent as a pike.'
'Come to the point,' ordered the prince.
' The fact is, I met little Massabiou, who was coming down
the faubourg towards the street des Mathurins. ' Good day,
little Massabiou,' I said. 'Good day, Cocardasse,' he
answered, ' how are you ?' ' Well; and you P' ' The same;
where are you coming from P' ' From the hospital, where I
have been taking some merchandize.' Cocardasse paused.
Gonzagues turned towards him. Every one listened atten-
tively. Passepoil could have adored him. ' You hear,' con-
tinued Cocardasse, aware of the sensation he had made. ' The
fellow was coming from the hospital, and still had a large bag
over his shoulder. ' Well, good-bye, friend,' I said, and while
Massabiou went on his way, I went straight to Yal de Grace.'
' And then what did you find ?'
' I found Master Jean Petit, the king's surgeon, who was
dissecting, for the instruction of his pupils, the body that
Massabiou had sold to him.'
' And you saw it ?'
' With both my eyes.'
' Lagardere P'
'Yes, himself; his light hair, his figure, his face, only the
dissecting-knife had spoilt that; but the cut on the shoulder
was conclusive,' he added, seeing doubt on some faces.
' Wounds with me are as recognisable as faces.'
'Itis true,' cried Gonzagues. That was enough—a joyful
murmur arose from all.
Gonzagues gave along sigh of relief, and said,' Dead at last.'
He threw his purse to Cocardasse, who was surrounded,
questioned, cheered.
' Here is something for a bottle of chamuagne,' cried Oriol.
214 the duke's motto.
Every one gave something to the hero Cocardasse, who,
notwithstanding his pride, received at all hands.
A valet came down the steps ; he held a candle in one hand,
for it was already dark, in the other a silver salver, on which
was a letter. 4 Eor the prince,' said the servant.
The courtiers gave way. Gonzagues took and opened the
letter. The expression of his face changed, then composed
itself quickly. He cast a sharp glance at Cocardasse, which
made Passepoil's flesh creep. 4 Can you read ?' asked the
prince with a bitter smile. And whilst Cocardasse spelt it
out, Gonzagues said,4 Gentlemen, here is fresh news.?
4 News of the dead ?' cried Navailles.
4 What says the defunct P' cried Oriol, strong-minded for
once.
4 Listen, and you shall hear. Eead aloud, provost.'
They made a circle. Cocardasse was no man of letters,
still he could read if you gave him time. Nevertheless, on this
occasion, he needed the help of Passepoil, who was not more
learned than himself.
4 Here, friend, my eyes are dazzled.'
Passepoil approached, and looked at the letter. He red-
dened, it seemed with pleasure. It also seemed that Cocar-
dasse had a difficulty in keeping himself from laughing. It
was instantaneous, they nudged each other's elbow. They
understood each other. 4 This is a tale,' cried the truthful
Passepoil.
4 One must see it to believe it,' added Cocardasse, with
concern.
4 What is it ?' resounded on all sides.
4 Eead, Passepoil; my voice fails me. I call that a miracle.'
4 Eead, Cocardasse; my flesh creeps.'
Gonzagues stamped his foot. Cocardasse recovered himself,
and read in a distinct voice—
'Monsieur le Prince, to settle our accounts at once, I
invite myself to your supper at nine o'clock.'
4 The signature ?' cried ten voices at once.
4 Chevalier Henri de Lagardere.'
Every one repeated the name which was now a bugbear.
There was a long silence. In the envelope of the letter was
something which Gonzagues had taken. No one besides him-
self knew what it was. It was a glove—the glove that Lagar-
d£re had snatched from Gonzagues at the regent's fete.
Gonzagues took the letter from the hands of Cocardasse.
Peyrolles wished to speak to him ; he repulsed him.
4 Well,' he said to the two swordsmen, 4 what think you
of that ?'
41 say,' replied Passepoil, srentlv. 'that man is often
THE INVITATION.
215
deceived; I faithfully related the truth, the coat is sufficient
testimony.'
' But the letter; do you deny that ?'
'For me,' cried Cocardasse, ' the little knave Massabiou can
bear witness. I met him in the street St. Jacques. Let him
come forward. Is Jean Petit surgeon to the king, yes or no?'
' But this letter ?' said G-onzagues, whose brows were bent.
' These fellows have deceived you a long time,' whispered
Peyrolles in his ear.
Gonzagues' courtiers whispered anxiously'.
' He is a magician,' said Oriol.
'He is the devil himself," said Navailles.
Cocardasse said aside, ' He is a man !'
Passepoil squeezed his hand, and added,' He is Lagardere.'
'Gentlemen,' said Gonzagues, his voice slightly altered,
'there is something incomprehensible in this. We are
deceived—'
'Oh, your highness,' protested at once Cocardasse and
Passepoil.
' Silence. The defiance which is sent me, I accept.'
'Bravo!' cried Navailles, feebly.
'Bravo !' cried the rest against their will.
' If the prince would permit me to advise,' said Peyrolles,
' instead of the intended supper—'
' By Heaven, we will sup,' interrupted Gonzagues, who drew
himself up proudly.
' Then with closed doors ?'
' With open doors; wide open.'
'All right,' said Navailles.
They were good swordsmen except the financier.
* You all carry swords, gentlemen ?' said Gonzagues.
' We also,' murmured Cocardasse, giving a look to Passepoil.
'You will know how to use them when the occasion serves ?'
'If this man come alone?' asked Navailles, not caring to
hide his disgust.
' Prince! prince!' cried Peyrolles, ' this is a matter for
Gendry and his fellows.'
Gonzagues looked at his allies, his brow knitted, and his lips
trembling. ,
' On my life, they shall come to it. I will have them my
slaves.'
' Do as I do,' whispered Cocardasse to Passepoil. ' It is
now or never.'
They solemnly approached, and fell on their knees before
Gonzagues.
'Prince,' said Cocardasse, 'thirty years of honourable, I
may say chivalric conduct, speak in favour of two men
216 the duke's motto.
whom present appearances seem to accuse. Not in one day
does one banish the glory of a whole lifetime. Look at us.
Heaven marks on each face honesty or rascality. Look at
us and at Master Peyrolles, our accuser.'
Cocardasse was superb; his Gascon accent gave effect to his
eloquent appeal. Passepoil looked the picture of modesty
and frankness. The unhappy Peyrolles seemed always a
butt. His chronic paleness in the last four-and-twenty
hours had turned almost to green. He looked a type of
those cowards who strike in trembling.
Gonzagues reflected.
Cocardasse continued—* Sir, you who are so great, so
powerful, you can judge. It is not lately that (pou made
acquaintance with your faithful servants. Do you remember
the moat at Caylus, where we were together P*
'Hush!' cried Peyrolles, frightened.
Gonzagues, without showing emotion, said, looking towards
his friends, 'These gentlemen have already guessed. If they
should wish to know further, they shall be informed. They
count upon us, as we count upon them. There is between us
reciprocity of knowledge, and of indulgence—we know each
other.'
Gonzagues laid stress on these last words. Was there
one of those rakes who had not something on his conscience ?
Some of them had needed Gonzagues' help in certain in-
fringements of the law; besides, they had all been accom-
plices this last night. Oriol felt himself fainting; Navailles,
Choissy, and the rest, cast their eyes down. Had one pro-
tested, the others would have followed suite. Luckily for
Gonzagues, the little marquis was absent.
Chaverny, whatever his faults, was not one of those that
can be forced to silence—Gonzagues intended to get rid of
him this night, and for a long time.
' I wish only to say, prince,' continued Cocardasse,' that
old servants like us ought not to be condemned on slight
grounds. We have numerous enemies, like all people of merit.
This is the opinion that I submit to your highness, with my
usual frankness: One of two things has happened; either
Henri de Lagardere is resuscitated, or this letter is fabricated
by a rascal, to bring two poor fellows into trouble. I have
said my say.'
'And I have not a word to add,' said Passepoil, 'so elo-
quently has my friend expressed my sentiments.'
' You shall not be punished,' said Gonzagues; ' go away.'
They did not move.
' Your highness^ did not understand us; we did not de-
serve to be thus misunderstood.'
THE INVITATION.
217
'You shall be paid,' cried Gonzagues, impatiently.
'"What we desire,' continued Cocardasse, and his voice
trembled, 'what we desire is the complete and entire proof ot
our innocence. You do not know, prince, with whom you
have to do.'
'No,'murmured Passepoil, with tears in his eyes; 'you
don't know us. What we wish is a perfect and striking
!)roof of our innocence ; and this is what I propose. The
etter says that Lagardere will come and brave you to-night
in your own house ; while we contend that he is dead. Let
the event show which is right. We give ourselves up
prisoners; if we have deceived you, and Lagardere comes, we
are willing to die. Is it not so, Passepoil ?'
'With joy,' answered the Norman, dissolving into tears.
' If, on the contrary, Lagardere should not come, it is a
reparation of honour—your highness will permit two poor
fellows to serve you as heretofore.'
'.Be it so,' said Gonzagues; ' follow me to the pavilion; the
event shall decide.'
' Heaven's justice,' they said, ' be done!' and they looked
like two Romans.
But at this moment, taking little note of them, Gon-
zagues' attention was fixed on the behaviour of his friends.
'I desired that Chaverny might be present,' he said,
turning to Peyrolles, who went out at once.
' Well, gentlemen, what is the matter? By Jove, you look
as pale and silent as ghosts.'
' The fact is,' said Cocardasse, 'they don't look very joyful.'
'Are you afraid?' continued Gonzagues.
' Take care, prince !'
' If you are not afraid, what is your repugnance to follow me?'
They were silent.
' Take care of yourselves, gentlemen. Remember what I
told you yesterday in the Council-chamber — passive obe-
dience. I am the head; you are the arms. There is a
compact between us.'
'No one thinka of breaking that,' said Taranne; 'but '
'No buts, I command. Think of what I told you, that which
I tell you now—you have my secret. To-day, whoever is not
with me is against me. If one fails at the call to-night '
'Oh,' said Navailles, 'no one will fail.'
' So much the better; we are near the end. You think me
enchained: since yesterday my power has doubled; you
are rich without knowing it; ay, as rich as dukes. I want
my fete complete.'
' It shall be so, prince,' said Montaubert, who was among
the most guilty.
218 THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
The promise contained in Gonzagues' last words had reani-
mated the wavering.
' I wish it to he joyful.'
* It shall be so.'
'1,' said Oriol, whose blood ran cold with fright, ' I feel
quite gay ; how we shall laugh!'
'"We shall have good fun,' cried the rest, assuming their
part bravely.
At this moment Peyrolles ushered in Chaverny.
' Not a word of what has passed, gentlemen.'
' Chaverny! Chaverny !' cried they all, affecting a pleasant
gaiety ; ' come, you have been expected.'
At the name, the hunchback who had remained motionless
in his niche, appeared to awake, he put his head out of his
skylight, and looked out.
Cocardasse and Passepoil perceived him at once.
' Attention!' said the Gascon.
' We know our duty,' answered the Norman.
' Here I am,' cried Chaverny.
'Whence come youP' asked Navailles.
' Not far off; the other side of the church. Ah, cousin,
must you have two odalisques at once P'
Gonzagues turned pale.
The hunchback put back his head; he stationed himself
behind his door, trying to stay the violent beating of his
heart. This word seemed to strike him like a thunderbolt.
'Fool! incorrigible fool!' cried Gonzagues, almost gaily.
' In truth, the indiscretion was not great. I simply scaled
the garden wall to take a walk with Armida, and behold there
are two Armidas, but without one B6naud.'
They were surprised to find the prince so calm at this in-
solent speech.
'And do they please you P' said he, laughing.
' Oh, I adore them both. But what is it, cousin ? Why
did you send for me ?'
' Because you are to be at the wedding to-night.'
'Ah, la, there's to be a wedding! And who is to be
married P'
' A marriage portion of fifty thousand crowns.'
' Beady money P'
' Beady money ! What fine eyes the coffer has !'
• But with whom P' He looked around thecircle. ' Here
are many wedding faces P'
' Guess,' answered Gonzagues, still laughing.
' I cannot guess, there are too many; perhaps myself.'
'Just so,' said Gonzagues ; the other burst out laughing.
The hunchback opened softly his door and stood on the
THE INVITATION.
219
threshold. His face had quite another expression, it was no
longer that sad look of deep thought, but the personification
of a sneer.
'And the wedding-portionP' asked Chaverny.
'Is here,'continued Gonzagues, taking from his pocket a
bundle of papers: ' it is ready.'
Chaverny hesitated a moment. The rest jokingly wished
him joy. The hunchback advanced slowly and presented his
hunch to Gonzagues, having given him a pen dipped in ink,
and the bond.
'You accept P' asked Gonzagues, before endorsing the paper.
' In faith, yes,' cried the little marquis; ' one must become
steady.'
Gonzagues signed. While writing, he said to the hunch-
back,' Well, friend, have you still the same fancy ?'
' More than ever,' your highness.'
'Why?' asked Gonzagues.
' Because I know the name of the bridegroom.'
' What does it matter to you P'
Cocardasse and Passepoil were looking on with their mouths
open.
' I could not tell you. There are things one cannot explain.
How could I explain to you, for example, the strong convic-
tion I was Under that without me that boasting Lagardere
could not keep his promise P'
' Then you heard?'
'My niche is quite close. I served you once, prince.'
'Serve me again, and you shall have nothing more to
wish for.'
' That depends on your highness.'
' Here, Chaverny,' said Gonzagues, holding out the papers
to him. Then turning towards the hunchback: 'You shall
be at the wedding—I invite you.'
They all clapped their hands and shouted, whilst Cocar-
dasse exchanged a rapid glance with Passepoil.
' The wolf in the fold, Capediviou! they are right—we
shall laugh.'
All the allies surrounded the hunchback, who divided the
congratulations with the bridegroom.
' Sir,' he said, bowing his thanks to Gonzagues, ' I trust
not to render myself unworthy of your favour. In regard to
these gentlemen, we have already had a tilt in words. They
are witty—but not so witty as I am. He ! he! with all
respect to his highness, I shall make you laugh. At table
the hunchback is thought good company. You will see.'
220
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
CHAPTEE, XXXVII.
THE DEAWING-EOOM: AND THE BOUDOIB.
Theee still existed under Louis Philippe, in the street Polie
jMericourt, a remnant of that fanciful architecture of the
first years of the regency. It was a medley—a little Greek,
a little Chinese, a little mixed. They were sweetmeat-boxes
in the true sense of the word. Gonzagues' pavilion looked
like a kiosk disguised as a temple. The powdered Venus of
the eighteenth century would have chosen it for her altar.
A little white peristyle flanked by two little galleries, whose
Corinthian columns supported a first floor hidden behind a
balcony, the second story breaking forth from the square
proportions of the lower part, rose in a belvidere of six sides,
surmounted by a roof like a Chinese hat.
The possessors of certain delightful villas near Paris vaunt
themselves on having invented this fancy style. They are
mistaken : the Chinese hat and the belvidere date from the
infancy of Louis XV.; only the profusion of riches gave to
the construction of that time an aspect which our economical
villas, though delusive, do not possess.
The Prince Gonzagues, richer than most of the great lords,
had followed the sumptuous taste of the time, and his villa
passed for a wonder. It was a large hexagon chamber, whose
six sides formed the sides of the belvidere. Four doors
opened into four chambers or boudoirs; two other doors,
which were also windows, opened upon terraces covered with
flowers.
The Duke d'Antin had himself made the design of this
pretty St. Andrew's cross for the supplementary folly he
had built in the hamlet Mirom6nil. In the drawing-room
of the Folie-Gonzagues, the ceiling and the friezes were by
De Vanloo the elder and his son Jean-Baptiste. Two young
fellows, only fifteen, had painted the panels. The latter had
gained celebrity at once by his Snare of Vulcan and the Birth
of Venus. The four boudoirs were ornamented with copies
of Albane and Primatice. It was princely in the'full sense of
the word. Two terraces in white marble had ancient statues,
and the staircase, also of marble, was cited as the chef-d'oeuvre
of Oppenort.
It was about eight in the evening that the promised supper
was to take place. The drawing-room was filled with lights
and flowers. The table shone under the brilliant lamp, and the
disarrangement of the eatables showed that the business of
the table had already begun.
TEE DRAWING-ROOM AND THE BOUDOIR. 221
The guests were all our raltes, among whom the little
Marquis Chaverny distinguished himself by premature signs
of intoxication. It was only the second course, and yet he
had almost lost his reason. Choisy, Navailles, Montaubert,
and the rest had stronger heads, for they held themselves up-
right, and kept a check upon their tongues. The Baron de
Batz, silent and stiff, seemed only to have been drinking water.
There were ladies, and it must be owned most of the
ladies belonged to the opera. There was Mademoiselle
Fleury, for whom the prince had a kindness; then Made-
moiselle Nivelle, the daughter of Mississippi; the stout
Cidalise, good-tempered, of a spongy nature, absorbing
madrigals and sentiment and returning them in absurdities;
Desbois, Dorbigny, and five or six others equally enemies to
restraint and prejudice. They were all handsome, young,
gay, bold, ready to laugh even when they were inclined to
weep. Such is the requirement of their office. One takes
not an advocate who cannot plead. A sad dancer is an
anomaly. Some people think that the saddest part of their
sad lives, which are passed in fluttering about in pink gauze
like fish in a pan, is that they have no right to weep.
Gonzagues was absent. He had been sent for to the Palais
Royal. Besides his seat, there were three other seats empty.
First that of Donna Cruz, who had escaped when Gonzagues
left. Donna Cruz had bewitched all round the table, and per-
taps she had prevented that high tone which was so often
reached in suppers under the regent, even at the first course.
It could not be quite ascertained whether the prince had
insisted on Donna Cruz being present, or whether that
charming madcap had insisted upon coming. What was
certain was, that she had dazzled every one. All adored her
except Oriol, who remained the faithful slave of Nivelle.
At this moment Chaverny, abusing his victory—he had just
defeated iEsop II. in drinking champagne—heaped cloaks,
great-coats, ladies' mantles, over the unfortunate hunchback,
seated on an immense bergere. The hunchback, perfectly in-
toxicated, did not complain. He was completely hidden by
his coverings, and ran the risk of being stifled. For the rest,
the hunchback, deserved it—he had not kept his promise, but
was silent, grumbling, and distrait. What could this walking
desk be thinking of?
Down with the hunchback! it would be the last time he
would be admitted to such a fete. The question that every
one had asked himself before he got intoxicated was, how
came Donna Cruz there ?
Gonzagues never did anything without a motive.
Until now he had hidden Donna Cruz as jealously as if he
222 THE DTJKE'S^OTTO.
had been a Spanish guardian, and now he let her sup with a
dozen worthy fellows. It was certainly very strange.
Chaverny had asked if she were to be his bride; Gonzagues
had shaken his head. He had wished to know where his be-
trothed was ; he had been desired to have patience.
What could be Gonzagues' motive in thus treating a young
lady whom he wished to introduce at court as Mademoiselle
deNevers? This was his secret.
Gonzagues told what it pleased him to tell—not a word
more. They had all drunk moderately. All the ladies were
gay, except Nivelle, whom wine rendered melancholy. Ci-
dalise and Desbois sang. La Fleury made herself hoarse
asking for a dance. Oriol, as round as a ball, recited his late
adventures, which no one believed. The rest drank, laughed,
cried, sang; the wine was exquisite, the dishes delicious; no
one thought of the ill omen which hung over this feast of
Belshazzar.
Master Peyrolles alone kept his doleful look. The gaiety,
whether genuine or not, had no effect on him.
'Is there no one who will have the charity to mate M.
Oriol silent P' asked Nivelle, in a tired, vexed voice.
'Peace, Oriol!' they cried.
' I don't talk so loud as Chaverny,' he answered. ' Nivelle
is jealous. I shall tell her no more of my tricks.'
' Innocent,' murmured Nivelle, refreshing herself with a
glass of champagne.
' How many did he give you P' asked Cidalise of Pleury.
' Three, my dear.'
'Blue?'
' No; two blue and a white.'
' And you will see him again.'
'Never j he has no more.'
' Ladies, I denounce to you the little Mailly, who wishes to
be loved for himself.'
' What a shame !' cyied all the ladies at once.
Chaverny had returned to his seat. ' If that knave of au
iEsop gets up, I'll drown him.' His heavy eyes looked round
the table. ' I no longer,' he said, ' see the divinity of our
Olympus. I need her presence to explain to you my position.'
' Pray, no explanation, in Heaven's name!'
' I must,' said Chaverny; ' it is an affair of delicacy. Fifty
thousand crowns,' he said, wriggling about in his chair, 'is
not Peru, if I were not in love.'
' In love with whom ?' cried Navailles; 'you have not seen
your bride-elect.'
' You are mistaken; I will explain my position.'
' No—no—no. Yes—yes—yes,' was echoed in chorus.
THE DRAWING-ROOM AND THE BOUDOIR. 223
'A delightful little blonde,' related Oriol to Choisy, who
was asleep; ' she followed me like a shadow; impossible to
be rid of her. You see I was afraid that Nivelle might see
us together. She is as jealous as a tiger, Yivelle.'
' Then if you wont let me speak, tell me where, is Donna
Cruz. I want Donna Cruz.'
' Donna Cruz!' cried they all; ' we want Donna Cruz.'
'You might say Mademoiselle de Nevers,' said Peyrolles,
drily.
A long laugh followed these words. All cried 'Mademoiselle
de Nevers.' They rose tumultuously.
' My position,' began Chaverny.
Everyone got away from him, and ran to the door where
Donna Cruz had disappeared.
' Oriol,' cried Nivelle, ' come here at once.' The little stock-
broker had not to be told twice. He only wished everyone
to remark the familiarity. ' Sit near me, and tell me the story
of the Peau d'Ane. I am sleepy,' cried Nivelle, gaping.
' Once upon a time,' began the docile Oriol.
' Did you play to-day ?' asked Cidalise of Desbois.
'Don't speak of it; without Lafleur, my servant, I should
have been forced to sell my diamonds.'
'Lafleur? How?'
' Lafleur is worth thousands since yesterday, and protects
me to-day.'
' I have seen him; he has very good appearance. He has
bought the carriages of the Marquis of Eellegarde, who has
fled. He has the house of Vicomte Villedieu, who hung him-
self. He has good success.'
' I believe you. He did one thing that was delicious. To-
day his carriage waited for him as he came out of the Golden
House; the habit was so strong that he got up behind it.'
' Donna Cruz! Donna Cruz !' cried the gentlemen.
Chaverny knocked at the door by which the charming
Spanish girl had disappeared.
' If you don't come, we lay siege.'
'Yes, a siege! a siege !'
' Gentlemen!' cried Peyrolles.
Chaverny seized him by the collar. 'If you don't hold your
tongue, owl, we will make use of you as a battering-ram to
burst open the door.'
Donna Cruz was not in the boudoir, which she had locked
ia going out; the boudoir communicated with the ground-
floor by a secret staircase. Donna Cruz had gone down to
the ground-floor where was her bedroom. On the sofa lay
poor Aurora, trembling, and her eyes tired out with tears.
■Fifteen hours she had been in this house. Without Donna
224 THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
Cruz she would have died of grief and fear. Donna Cruz
had come down to see her since the commencement of supper.
* What news ?' asked Aurora in a feeble voice.
4 The prince has just been sent for to the palace,' answered
Donna Cruz. 4 You were wrong to frighten yourself, my dear
Aurora; there is nothing very terrible going on above, and if
I did not know you were here, uneasy, sad, overcome, I should
amuse myself well.'
4 What are they doing in the drawing-room F The noise
reaches even here.'
'Tollies; they laugh heartily; the champagne flows; the
gentlemen are gay, witty, amusing, especially one named Cha-
verny.'
Aurora pressed her hand over her forehead as if to remem-
ber something. 4 Chaverny,' she repeated.
4 Quite, quite brilliant; bold as a lion. But I must not think
too much of him; he is betrothed.'
4 Ah!' said Aurora, sighing.
4 But guess to whom, little sister?'
41 know not; what can it matter to me ?'
4 But it does matter a great deal.'
4 Why, it is to you that the little marquis is betrothed.'
Aurora raised her head, and smiled sadly.
'I am not joking,' insisted Donna Cruz.
4 But of him ?' murmured Aurora; 4 my sister, my little
Flora, do you bring me no news of him P'
41 have nothing, absolutely nothing.'
Aurora's beautiful head fell on her bosom, as she said,
weeping, 4 Those men said yesterday, when they attacked us,
that Lagardere was dead.'
4 As to that,' answered Donna Cruz, 41 am sure he is not
dead.'
4 What makes you think so ?' asked Aurora, earnestly.
4 Two things. First, they are still afraid of him above;
second, that lady, she whom they said was my mother '
4 His enemy; she whom I saw that night at the Palais
Hoyal ?'
* Yes, his enemy. I recognise her after your description.
Well, the second reason I was saying is, that that lady seeks
him still; her inveteracy has not lessened. When I went to-
day to the prince's house, to complain of the usage I had
received in the street Pierre Lescot, I saw the lady, and I
heard her. She said to a white-haired gentleman who was
leaving her apartments, 4 It concerns me—it is my duty and
my right. I have my eyes open—he shall not escape me;
and when the four-and-twenty hours are over he shall be
taken. Must I take him with my own hands ?''
THE DRAWING-ROOM AND THE BOUDOIR,
225
* Oil! it must be tbe same person. I recognise her by
her hatred, and more than once the thought has struck
me '
'What thought?' asked Donna Cruz.
' Oh! nothing. I know not—I am mad.'
'I have one thing to tell you,' said Donna Cruz; 'it is
almost a message that I bring you. The prince has been
kind to me, but I have no longer confidence in him. You
I love more and more, my little Aurora.' She sat down on
the sofa close to her friend, and continued, ' The prince told
it me, assuredly, that I might repeat it to you.'
' What did he say ?' asked Aurora.
'Just now, when you interrupted me to talk of your hand-
some Lagardere, I was telling you that they wished to marry
you to the Marquis Chaverny.'
' But what right have they to marry me ?'
' I know not; but I don't fancy they trouble themselves
much whether they have a right or not. Gonzagues entered
into conversation with me, in the course of which he said
these words: " If she shows herself obedient, she will save
from a great danger what she holds most dear in the world.'"
'Lagardere!' cried Aurora.
' I think he meant to speak of Lagardere,' answered the
gipsy-
Aurora hid her head in her hands. ' There's a dark cloud
over my mind. Oh, heaven! have pity on me.'
Donna Cruz drew her to her bosom. 'Oh! has not God
placed me near you, little sister ?' she said, gently. ' I am but
a, woman; but I am strong, and am not afraid of death. If
they attacked you, Aurora, there would be some one to de-
fend you.' Aurora returned her embrace.
The tumultuous voices of those who called for Donna Cruz
were now heard.
' I must go away.' Then feeling Aurora tremble in her
arms, she said,' Door dear! how pale you are.'
' I am afraid here when I am all alone,' murmured Aurora;
'these servants frighten me.'
'You have nothing to fear; these servants know that I
love you, and believe that my power is great with Gonzagues;'
she stopped, and reflected a moment—' and sometimes it
seems to me that Gonzagues has tired of me.'
On the storey above the noise redoubled.
Donna Cruz got up, and took up a glass of champagne that
she had placed on the table.
' Advise me—guide,' said Aurora.
'Nothing is lost if lie really wants me,' cried Donna Cruz;
'hut we must gain time.'
15
226 the duke's motto.
' But this marriage—I would prefer death, alrandred times.'
' It is always time enough, to die, dear little sister.'
She made a movement to depart. Aurora clung to her.
' Will you leave me so soon ?'
' Don't you hear them call me ? But did I speak to you
of the hunchback?'
' No,' said Aurora; ' what hunchback ?'
' He who took me out yesterday evening by ways that I
did not know myself—he who conducted me to your door—
he is here.'
' At the supper P'
' Yes; as I remembered what you told me of that strange
personage, who alone is admitted into Lagardere's retreat.'
' It must be the same.'
' I could swear it; when I approached him to tell him that
if anything happened he might count upon me '
' Well ?'
' Oh, he is the most absurd hunchback that ever abused
the right of caprice. He seemed not to know me; it was
impossible to get a word out of him; he was so occupied
with three ladies, who amused themselves with him, and made
him drink furiously, so that he fell under the table.'
' Then there are ladies there ?' asked Aurora.
' Oh, yes.'
' What sort of ladies P'
* Oh, great ladies,' said the gipsy, innocently. ' Those are
the Parisian ladies I dreamt of in Madrid—ladies of the
court, who sing, laugh, drink, and swear like troopers.'
' Are you quite sure they are court ladies P'
Donna Cruz was almost offended.
'I should like to see them,' said Aurora, 'but without be-
ing seen,' she added, blushing.
' And would you not like to see that nice little Marquis
Chaverny P' asked Donna Cruz, laughing.
' Yes, I should like to see him,' answered Aurora, simply.
The gipsy, without giving her time for reflection, seized
her by the arm, and laughingly dragged her towards the
secret staircase. There the two girls were only separated
from the fete by the thickness of the wall. A thousand
voices rose amid the clinking of glasses and bursts of laughter.
' Let us besiege the boudoir—to the attack.'
CHAPTEE XXXVIII.
ak empty place.
Mastee Peykolles, the ill-accredited representative of Gon*
zagues, saw his authority completely put aside. Chaverny
AN EMPTY PLACE.
✓
227
and two or three others had asked him after his ears. He
was quite powerless to quell the tumult.
On the other side of the door Aurora, more dead than
alive, regretted bitterly that she had quitted her retreat.
Donna Cruz laughed boldly and sprightly ; it would have
required something very different to frighten her. She blew
out the light, not on her own account, but lest any in the
drawing-room should see her companion. ' Look,' she said,
pointing to the keyhole.
But Aurora's curiosity was gone.
'Are you going to leave us long for this young lady?'
asked Cidalise.
'It is well worth the trouble,' added Hesbois.
'Oh! the marchionesses are jealous,' thought Donna Cruz,
aloud.
Aurora put her eye to the keyhole. ' Are those marchio-
nesses P' she asked, doubtingly.
Donna Cruz shrugged her shoulders with an air of superi-
ority.
' Oh, you do not know the court.'
'Donna Cruz—We want Donna Cruz.'
The gipsy smiled proudly. ' They will have me,' she said.
They struck the door violently. Aurora drew back fright-
ened.
Donna Cruz put her eye to the keyhole. ' Oh, oh!' she
cried, laughing,' what a figure they have made of that poor
Peyrolles.'
'The door resists,' cried Navailles.
'I heard voices,' cried Noce.
'A lever—a crowbar !'
'Why not cannon ?' said Nivelle, half asleep.
Oriol was ready to faint.
' I have something better than that,' cried Chaverny, ' a
Serenade.'
' With an accompaniment of glasses, knives, bottles, plates,'
added Oriol, looking at Nivelle, who had fallen asleep again.
' The little marquis is charming,' murmured Donna Cruz.
' Which is he ?' said Aurora, going towards the door.
' But I don't see the hunchback,' said the gipsy, instead of
answering.
' Are you ready ?' cried Chaverny at this moment.
They had all got up; the ladies also. Each held in his
band his instrument of accompaniment. Cidalise had a hot
plate, on which Desbois thumped. The confusion was so
great that Aurora failed to recognise her gallant of Madrid.
'Which is he ?' she asked.
' The most intoxicated of all,' answered Donna Cruz.
15—2
228 tile duke's motto.
'We are ready,' cried the class of assistants.
It wi.3 a fearful noise even before the song commenced.
Peyrolles having essayed a timid observation, had been
seized by Havailles and Gironne, and fastened to a cloak
Peg-
' Who is it—who is to sing ?'
' Chaverny I Chaverny
And the little marquis, pushed from hand to hand, was
thrown against the door.
Aurora recognised him now, and drew back in disgust.
' Bah!' cried Donna Cruz, ' because he is rather intoxi-
cated ; it is the fashion. He is charming.'
Chaverny besought silence by a drunken gesture.
'Gentlemen and ladies, I must first explain to you my
position.' A perfect tempest of hisses.—" Ho talking; sing,
or be silent."—• My position is simple, though at first it may
seem otherwise.'
' Down with Chaverny—a forfeit; hang him up with
Peyrolles.'
' The reason I desire to explain my position,' persisted the
little marquis, with drunken obstinacy, ' is because of the
novel '
' Down with the novel!'
' And circumstance '
' Down with circumstance!'
Cidalise, Desbois, and La Fleury were like three wolves
around him.
' If you wont sing, give me a speech out of a tragedy.'
Here there were violent protestations.
'If you sing you shall explain your position,' said Hoc&
' Do you swear it P.' asked Chaverny.
' W# swear! We swear 1'
' Come, let me explain my position first.'
Donna Cruz held her sides with laughing; but the crowd
in the drawing-room got angry, they talked of hanging
Chaverny by the feet outside the window. The eighteenth
century had many such agreeable jokes.
' It will not be long; in fact, my position is very clear. I
don't know my wife, therefore I cannot detest her. I love
women in general, therefore it is a love match.'
Twenty voices, like a clap of thunder, cried out all at once,
'Sing! sing! sing!'
Chaverny took a knife and plate from Taranne. 'They
are verses composed by a young man."
' Sing! sing!' they repeated.
And he sang the first verse of a bacchanalian ditty,
' Hot bad! not bad!' cried the critics.
AN EMPTY PLACE,
229
'Whowill give me something to drinkP' cried Nivelle,
starting up.
' How do you like that, my charmer?'
' Oh, very stupid.'
'Bravo! bravo!'
' But don't be frightened,' said Donna Cruz to poor Aurora,
who held her in her arms. ' The second verse, Chaverny.'
'A la banque du bon regent, rieu ne manque sinon l'argent.'
At this irreverent beginning Peyrolles made so violent
an effort that he upset himself and fell on the floor. ' Gen-
tlemen, in the name of the Prince Gonzagues ' he ex-
claimed, getting up.
But they would not listen to him.
' It is false!' cried some.
'Vile calumny !' cried others.
' Mr. Law has all the treasures of Peru in his cellar.'
'Ho politics!'
'Yes!'
'No!'
' Hurrah, Chaverny!'
' Down with Chaverny!'
'Gag him!'
'Let him go on!'
And the ladies pensively broke the plates and glasses.
' Chaverny, come and kiss me,' cried Nivelle.
' What an idea!' protested the little stockbroker.
'He makes us rise in the stocks. The little marquis is
delightful.'
' He says that women are beyond all price in Paris; but
that is not dear enough. When I see a man keep a crown in
his pocket it makes me angry.'
In the boudoir Aurora hid her face in her hands, and said
in a trembling voice, ' Oh, I shudder—I shudder that they
should give me to such a man.'
'Bah!' said Donna Cruz; 'I would undertake to make
him as gentle as a lamb. Don't you think him charming?'
' Come, take me away. I will pass the rest of the night in
prayer.' She tottered. Donna Cruz supported her in her
arms.
The gipsy was the best-heaxded girl in the world, but she
did not partake of her friend's repugnance.
This was the Peru of her dream. ' Come,' she said; whilst
Chaverny, taking advantage of a strict silence, entreated,
with tears in his eyes, that lie might explain his position.
Descending the stairs, Donna Cruz said, ' Little sister, let
230
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
us gain time; ^eem to obey; believe me, ratber than leave
you in embarrassment I would marry Cbaverny myself.'
'You could do so for me,' cried Aurora, with grateful
delight.
' Yes, yes; come, pray, if that will console you, and as
soon as I can get away I will come to you again.'
She mounted the stairs, a glass in her hand. ' Truly to
oblige her,' she said to herself; 'and with Chaverny one
might pass one's time in laughing. What can one do better ?'
Arriving at the door, she stopped to listen.
Chaverny exclaimed, angrily,' Have you promised, yes op
no, that I should explain my position?'
'Never, Chaverny, abuse your position.'
'Decidedly, gentlemen, we must lay siege ; the young lady
laughs at us.'
Donna Cruz seized this moment to open the door.
She appeared on the threshold smiling and gay, holding
her glass above her head. There was a burst of applause.
' Come, gentlemen,' she said; ' a little spirit. Do you
think you made a noise P'
' We tried to,' said Oriol.
' Oh, you are bad serenaders,' she said, holding out her
glass to be replenished; 'you were scarcely heard on the
other side of the door.'
' Keally,' cried our rakes, nimbly, ' we thought we were
strong enough to keep Paris awake.'
Chaverny looked at Donna Cruz with admiration.
' Charming,' he said, ' adorable.' Oriol wished to repeat
these words, which he thought appropriate and pretty; but
Nivelle awoke in time to give him a severe pinch.
' Will you hold your tongue?' she said.
'Yes, my charmer,' cried the docile Oriol. He wished to
get away, but she held him by the sleeve.
'A forfeit,' she said, 'a blue.'
Oriol took out his pocket-book, and gave ft quite new
share; whilst Nivelle sang—
' Car aujourd'liui le femme est hors de prix a Paris.'
Donna Cruz looked round for the hunchback. Her instinct
told her that this man, notwithstanding her rebuffs, was a secret
ally. But there was no one that she could ask a question.
She said, only to learn whether the hunchback had gone out
with Gonzagues, ' Where is the prince ?'
' The carriage is back,' said Peyrolles, who just entered;
' the prince gives some orders.'
' For the violins ?' asked Cidalise,
AN EMPTY PLACE. 231
' Shall we really have, a dance ?' asked the gipsy, blushing
already with delight.
Desbois and Le Fleury gave her a disdainful look.
'I remember the time,' said Nivelle, 'that when we came
here we always found something under our plates.' She took
up her plate", and continued, ' Nothing, not a grain of wheat.
Oh! my friends, the regency decreases.'
' The regency gets old,' added Cidalise.
' The regency decays. Supposing we had had two or three
blues for a dessert, would the Prince Gonzagues have been
any the poorer ?'
' What are blues ?' asked Donna Cruz.
How to paint the general stupefaction P The innocence of
Donna Cruz seemed incredible.
Chaverny took his bundle of shares from his pocket, and
gave a dozen to Donna Cruz.
' Thanks,' she said; ' the prince will repay you.' Then she
distributed them between Nivelle and the other ladies, saying,*
' Ladies, here is your dessert.'
The ladies took the shares, and protested that the young
lady was detestable.
' Come, come,' cried Donna Cruz; ' Gonzagues must not
find us asleep. To the health of the Marquis Chaverny.
Your glass, sir.'
He held out his glass, and gave a deep sigh.
' If you knew,' he said—' if I might tell you.'
He drank, and Navailles said, ' Take care he does not ex-
plain his position.'
'Not to you,' cried Chaverny; 'only to the charming
Donna Cruz. You are not worthy to comprehend me.
' Nevertheless,' said Nivelle, ' it is very simple, your position
is that of a tipsy man.'
Every one burst out laughing.
'By Jove!' cried the marquis, breaking his glass against
the table. 'Is there any one here bold enough to make
game of me, Donna Cruz P I am in earnest. You are here
like a star from heaven lost among the lanterns of earth.'
A noisy protestation from the ladies.
' He goes too far,' cried Oriol.
' Hold your tongue,' cried Chaverny ; ' the comparison can
only wound the lanterns ; besides, I am not speaking to you.
I appeal to Peyrolles to stop your vociferations, and I add that
he only pleased me once in his life, that was when he was
hanging to the cloak-peg.'
He was quite overcome, and added, with tears in his eyes
—' Ah! that was very good—but to return to my position,'
taking both Donna Cruz's hands.
232
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
' Oh, I know it by heart,' cried the gipsy; ' you marry to-
night a charming young lady.'
' Charming?' asked the choir.
' Charming,' repeated Donna Cruz, ' young, clever, good,
and loving; not the slightest idea of blues. You get into a
post-chaise, and carry off your wife.'
'Ah! if it were you, adorable creature,' cried the little
marquis.
Donna Cruz filled his glass.
' Gentlemen,' said Chaverny, 'Donna Cruz has just ex-
plained my position, it is romantic.'
' Drink,' said the gipsy, laughing.
' Allow me, for some time I have had an idea.'
' Come, let us have Chaverny's idea.'
' Gentlemen, here are several places empty. That one he-
longs to my cousin Gonzagues, that one to the hunchback;
they have both been occupied.'
But the one he pointed to was immediately opposite
Gonzagues', in which, since the commencement of supper, no
one had been seated.
' This is my idea,' said Chaverny; ' I want that seat to
be filled; I want the bride to be placed there.'
'Bight, quite right; Chaverny's idea is just. "Where is
the bride ?'
Donna Cruz tried to take the little marquis's arm, but
nothing could divert him from his wish.
' The devil!' he cried, holding by the table, his hair all
over his face. ' I am not drunk.'
' Drink, and be silent,' whispered Donna Cruz.
' I am ready to drink, but I will not hold my tongue. My
idea is just; it arises from my position. I demand the bride.
Listen to me, all of you.'
' Listen, he is as handsome as the god of eloquence.' It
was JNTivelle who awoke to say this.
Chaverny struck his fist on the table, crying louder, ' I say
it is absurd.'
'Bravo, Chaverny!'
' I say it is absurd to leave an empty place.'
The whole party applauded.
The little marquis made extraordinary efforts to seize his
thoughts—' To leave an empty place unless some one is
expected.'
At the moment when a salvo of bravos saluted this la-
borious conclusion, Gonzagues appeared at the door of the
gallery.
233
CHAPTER XXXIX.
a peach and a bouquet.
The prince's face looked, every one thought, severe and
anxious; they put down their glasses, and the smiles vanished.
' Cousin,' cried Chaverny, falling back in his chair, ' I
was waiting for you to tell you about my position.'
Gonzagues came to the table and took the glass that he
was carrying to his lips, ' Drink no more,' he said, drily.
' What an idea!' protested Chaverny.
Gonzagues threw the glass from the window, and repeated,
' Drink no more.'
Chaverny looked at him with astonishment. The guests
sat down. Paleness had already replaced on more than one
face the rosy hue of incipient drunkenness. There was one
thought that had been laid aside during the fete, but it was
still hanging over them. Gonzagues' anxious countenance
brought it back again.
Peyrolles tried to glide towards his master, Donna Cruz
stopped him—' One word, prince, if you please.'
Gonzagues kissed her hand and led her aside.
' What is the meaning of that P' murmured Nivelle.
'It cannot be a lover's play,' said Desbois ; ' Gonzagues is
too rich.'
' Such strange things happen,' said Nivelle.
The gentlemen said nothing, but had their eyes fixed on
the tablecloth. Chaverny alone sang some slang song, and
did not observe the uneasiness that had at once taken posses-
sion of his companions.
Oriol grumbled to Peyrolles, ' Has there been bad news P'
The factotum turned his back.
' Oriol,' cried Nivelle, ' when the prince has finished with
Donna Cruz, go and tell him we wish to dance.'
'But,' objected Oriol.
' Silence ! I choose you to go.'
The prince continued apart, and the longer the silence lasted
the more evident became the expression of constraint and
sadness. No real gaiety had reigned in this orgie.s If our
readers think that our party diverted themselves heartily,
we have succeeded ill in our portraits. They had done what
they could. The wine had raised the tone of the voice and
reddened the faces, but uneasiness had not one moment
ceased to be felt in spite of the bursts of laughter and feigned
joy. And to make all their cheerfulness fall at once Gon-
zagues' answer had alone sufficed. What Oriol had said all
thought, there was bad news.
234
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
Gonzagues kissed Donna Cruz's hand again—' Have you
confidence in me ?' he said, with a fatherly accent.
' Certainly, prince ; but she is my only friend, my sister.'
' I cannot refuse you anything, dear child. In an hour,
whatever may happen, she shall have her liberty.'
'Is it indeed trueP Let me tell the good news,' cried
Donna Cruz, joyfully; ' let me announce to her so great a
happiness.'
4 No; remain. Did you tell her my wish P'
'This marriage. Yes, of course. But she had strong ob*
jections.'
'Peace!' cried Oriol, whom an imperious sign of Nivelle
had put in movement; ' pardon me if I interrupt you. These
ladies wish to dance.'
' Go away,' said Gonzagues, pushing her aside.
' There is one thing,' murmured Nivelle.
Gonzagues pressed Donna Cruz's hands.
' I say no more—I wished to save him whom she loves.'
' But, prince, if you would explain to me how this mar-
riage can benefit Lagardere, I would take your words to poor
Aurora.'
' It is a fact. I can add nothing to my declaration. Bo
you think I am master of events ? At all events, I promise
you there shall be no constraint.'
He wished to leave her. Donna Cruz held him back.
' I entreat you, give me permission to return to her. Your
silence frightens me.'
' For a moment I need you.'
' Me,' repeated the gipsy, astonished.
' Some words will have to be spoken that these ladies must
not hear. You are at home. Do your duty as mistress of
the house. Take these ladies into the chamber of Mars.'
' I will obey you, prince.'
Gonzagues thanked her, and went back to the table.
Chaverny tried to read his countenance. He' made a siga to
Nivelle, who approached him. 'You see that child,' he said,
pointing to Donna Cruz, who remained pensive at the other
end of the room; ' try to amuse her, and see that she does not
pay attention to what passes here.'
'You send me away?'
' You shall come back soon. She is in the other drawing-
room a corbeille de mariage'
' I understood so. You give me Oriol P'
' No, not even Oriol.'
' My dear friends, here is Donna Cruz, who will like me to
see a corbeille de mariage.'
The ladies at once arose, and. entered, preceded by Donna
A PEACH AND A BOUQUET.
235
Cruz, the drawing-room of Mars, which was opposite the
boudoir where Aurora and the gipsy were. There was in
truth a corbeille de mariage there. The ladies sur-
rounded it.
Gonzagues looked at Peyrolles, who shut the door behind
them. No sooner was the door closed, than Donna Cruz
approached it, but Nivelle ran to her and brought her back.
' It is for you to show me this,' she said, ' my dear, and we
cannot let you go,'
In the drawing-room there were only men. Gonzagues
took his seat amid profound silence.
The silence awoke the little marquis, who said, '"Well,
where are the ladies ?'
No one answered.
'I remember,' he murmured to himself, 'seeing two
charming creatures in the garden; but am I to marry one of
them, or is it a dream P By my faith I don't know. Cousin,'
he began abruptly, ' it is very dull here—I shall go to the
ladies.'
'Eemain!' commanded Gonzagues.
Then looking round on the assembly, he said: ' Are we
all quite cool P'
' By Jove, it was you, cousin, who made us drunk.'
He was right; the word coolness here had quite a relative
sense. Gonzagues needed heated heads and strong arms.
Except Chaverny, all were in the desired condition. Gon-
zagues had already looked at the little marquis with a vexed
air. He consulted the clock, and added: 'We have yet
half-an-hour to talk. A truce to nonsense. I speak for you,
marquis.'
He, when Gonzagues had ordered him to remain, had seated
himself not on his chair, but on the table. ' Don't be uneasy
about me, cousin,' he said, witfi all the gravity of drunken-
ness; ' wish only that no one here be more tipsy than I am.
I am occupied about my position, that is all.'
' Gentlemen,' said Gonzagues, ' we will do without him, if
necessary. Here is the fact. At this moment a young girl
is in our way—in our way, you understand, for our interests
are much more closely united than you are aware of. One
may say your fortune is mine, and I have taken means that
the tie that binds us should be a true chain.'
' We cannot be too near the prince,' said Montaubert.
' Certainly, certainly,' was the general response.
Still there was no heartiness in it.
' The young girl ' continued Gonzagues.
' Since circumstances,' said Navailles,' become more serious,
we have a right to seek further. This von no- girl carried off
236 the duke's motto.
yesterday by your men, is sbe tbe same who was spoken of
at the Palais Royal?'
4 She whom Lagardbre promised to conduct to the Palais
Royal?' added Choissy.
4 Mademoiselle Nevers, in fact,' concluded K"oc6.
Ckaverny changed countenance, and was heard to repeat to
himself4 Mademoiselle de Nevers.'
Gonzagues bent his brow. 4 What matter her name ?' he
said; 4 she is in our way—she must be removed.'
There was silence. Chaverny took his glass, but set it
down without drinking.
Gonzagues continued: 41 have a horror of blood,' he said,
4 perhaps still more than yourselves. The sword never be-
friended me. In consequence, I don't want the sword. I
seek for gentleness. Chaverny, I expend fifty thousand
crowns and the expense of your journey for the peace of my
conscience.'
4 It is dear,' grumbled Peyrolles.
41 don't understand,' said Chaverny.
4 You well understand. I leave a chance to this beautiful
girl.'
4 Is it Mademoiselle de JSTevers ?' asked the little marquis,
taking up his glass.
4 If she likes you ' began Gonzagues.
4 In regard to that, I shall please her.'
4 So much the better—then she will marry you willingly.'
41 don't choose otherwise,' said Chaverny.
'Nor I,' said Gonzagues, with an equivocal smile on his
lips. 4 Once married, you will take your wife into some
distant province, and there you will make your honeymoon
last for ever, unless you prefer returning alone after a proper
lapse of time.'
4 If she refuse ?' asked the little marquis.
4 If she refuses, my conscience will not reproach me; she
will be free.' Gonzagues looked down in spite of himself
in pronouncing these words. a
4 You said that she had but one chance,' said Chaverny.
4 If she accepts, my lord, she lives; if she refuses, she is free.
I do not understand.'
'Because you are intoxicated,' said Gonzagues, drily.
The rest kept profound silence. Under those brilliant
chandeliers which lighted up the smiling pictures on the walls
and ceiling, among those empty bottles and faded flowers, an
evil influence was at work. Prom time to time was heard
the laughing of the ladies in the next room. This laughing
grated on the ear. Gonzagues alone held his forehead high
and seemed joyful. 4 You, gentlemen, I am sure you under-
stand me.'
A PEACH AND A BOUQUET. 237
No one answered, not even that knave Peyrolles.
' Then I mu3t explain,' continued Gonzagues, smiling. ' I
shall not he long, for we have not time. I must consider
the situation, the existence of this girl's name in root and
branch. Don't look so sceptical—it is a fact. If to-morrow
I lost the inheritance of Nevers, the next day we should
have to fly.'
'We?' cried all.
'Yes, you, my masters, without* exception. It does not
concern now your ancient peccadilloes. The Prince Gon-
zagues has followed the fashion; he has his hooks as well as
the meanest tradesman. Peyrolles understands admirably
how to arrange all that. My bankruptcy would bring on
you certain ruin.'
All looks were turned towards Peyrolles, who did not stir.
' Besides,' said the prince, ' after what passed yesterday—
But no threat; you are bound fast, that is all, and you will
follow me in adversity like faithful friends. It only remains
to know if you are in a hurry to give me that proof of your
devotion.'
No answer. Gonzagues' smile became more openly sneering.
'You see you understood me. Was I wrong to count on
your intelligence? The young girl shall be free. I have
it, I maintain it—free to go anywhere—to go where she
pleases. Yes, gentlemen, does that surprise you P'
All looked at him stupefied. Chaverny drank slowly, and
with a gloomy air.
There was another silence. Gonzagues for the first time
filled his glass, and those of his neighbours. ' I have often,
my friends, told you of the excellent customs, good manners,
splendid poetry, and exquisite perfumes that come to me
from Italy. People do not study Italy enough. Listen, and
try to profit.' He tasted his champagne, then continued,
' Here is an anecdote of my youth—those bright years that
never return:—
' The Count Annabel Canozza, one of the princes Amalfi,
was my cousin—a gay young fellow. We got into one or two
scrapes together. He was rich, very rich. You shall judge.
My cousin Annabel had three mansions on the Tiber, twenty
farms in Lombardy, two palaces at Plorence, two at Milan,
two at Home, and all the famous gold plate of the Cardinal
Allaria, our uncle. I was the only heir of my cousin Ca-
nozza; but he was only seven-and-twenty, and promised to
live a century. I never knew a better constitution than his—
finer health—you seem cold, gentlemen—drink. I try to
keep up your spirits.'
They obeyed; they had need of wine.
238 THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
* One evening,' said Gonzagues, ' I invited my cousin to
my vineyard at Spileto, a charming place—such, clustering
vines. We passed the evening on the terrace, inhaling the
perfumed breeze and talking. I believe in the immortality
of the soul; Canozza was a stoic, except in regard to wine
and women. He left me fresh and well on a lovely moon-
light night. I think I see him now in his carriage. Assuredly
he was free to go where he pleased—to a ball, to a supper—
there is all that in Italy—to see his ladylove—but free also
to remain.' He finished his glass; and as all eyes ques-
tioned him, he said, ' The Count Canozza, my cousin, did the
latter—he remained.'
A movement was perceptible among the guests. Chaverny
grasped his glass convulsively. 'He remained,' he repeated.
Gonzagues took a peach from a basket of fruit, and threw
it to the little marquis. It remained on his knees.
' Study Italy, cousin.' Then sitting down, he said,' Cha-
verny is too tipsy to understand me; perhaps it is better
to study Italy, gentlemen.' Thus speaking, Gonzagues threw
peaches to all of them, then added, ' I had forgotten to men-
tion one slight circumstance before leaving me. My cousin
Canozza had divided a peach with me.'
Each guest put down hurriedly the peach he held in his hand.
Gonzagues again filled his glass. All did the same. ' Study
Italy,' he repeated for the third time. ' There alone one
knows how to live. A hundred years ago they made use of
the absurd dagger. But of what use is violence ? In Italy
you wish to get rid of a young girl—she is an obstacle in
your path; you find some gallant who is willing to marry
her and take her away. Very well; it is exactly our case.
If she accepts, it is all right; if she refuses, then you bow
to the earth and ask pardon for the great liberty. You con-
duct her home with great respect. On the way, out of pure
respect, you beg her to accept a bouquet.' Saying this, Gon-
zagues took a nosegay of natural flowers which ornamented
the table. ' Can one refuse a bouquet ?' continued he, ar-
ranging the flowers. ' She goes away free, assuredly, like
my cousin Annabel; free to go where she likes—to meet her
lover, her friend—free also to remain.'
He offered the flowers. Every one drew back, shuddering.
' She remains,' said Chaverny, between his teeth.
' She remains,' repeated Gonzagues, looking at him steadily.
Chaverny got up. ' Those flowers are poisoned,' he said.
' Sit down, you are drunk,' cried Gonzagues, laughing.
Chaverny passed his hand over his forehead, which was
covered with perspiration. 'Yes, I must be drunk; other-
wise ' He tottered—his head was giddy.
239
CHAPTER XL.
the new hoye.
Gonzagues looked at the guests with the air of a master.
'He is quite lost/ he murmured; ' I excuse him, hut if one
of you '
' She will accept/ muttered Navailles, as a salve to his con-
science—' she will accept Chaverny's hand.' This was a very
ill-timed protest; it was but little, but the act did not even
do that.
The fear of ruin had carried the day. Shame is like the
dead of Burger, who travel fast. And it is especially in the
age of traffic that the fall is rapid and great.
Gonzagues replaced the bouquet. ' Bah! enough of this,'
he said, ' we are agreed. There is something more serious.
It is just on the stroke of nine.' Gonzagues knew that he
might dare everything now all were his accomplices j he had
an army.
' Has your highness heard anything new ?' asked Peyrolles.
'Nothing; I have only made all my arrangements; all the
doors of the pavilion are guarded. Gendry, with five men,
guard the entrance into the lane. La Baleine and two men are
outside, at the garden gate. Lavergne and five men are iri the
garden. Inside we have the servants all armed.'
'And the two bravosF' asked Navailles.
' I have not given them a post; they rest as we do; they
are there.' He pointed to the entrance to the gallery, where,
since his return, the lights had been extinguished. The door
of the gallery was also wide open.
' Whom do they expect ? and whom do we expect ?' asked
Chaverny, whose dim eyes had still a spark of intelligence.
' You were not there when I received the letter.'
' No! whom do you expect ?'
' Some one to fill that chair,' answered the prince, pointing
to the one that had remained empty since the beginning of
"the supper.
' The lane, the gardens, the hall, are full of armed men,'
pronounced Chaverny, disdainfully; ' all for one man.'
' That man is called Lagardere,' said Gonzagues, with em-
phasis.
Then, as if speaking to himself, Chaverny said—'Lagar-
dbre! I hate him 5 but he had me in his power and spared me.'
Gonzagues leant forward to hear him better, and shook his
head. Then he raised himself up. ' Gentlemen, do you
think the precautions taken sufficient ?'
Chaverny shrugged his shoulders and laughed.
240 the duke's motto.
4 One against twenty,' said Navailles,4 is pretty well.'
' By Jove 1' cried Oriol, reassured by numbers,4 we are not
afraid.'
4 Do you tbink tbat twenty men to wait for bim, to lie in
ambusb, and to seize bim, living or dead, is enough ?'
4 Too many, prince, too many.'
4 Tben you will answer for it beforehand, tbat no one will
accuse me of want of prudence.'
41 will answer for that,' cried Cbaverny;4 what is wanting
is not prudence.'
' I needed this testimony,' said Gonzagues;4 and now shall
I tell you my opinion ?'
* Let us have it, prince.' They bad filled their glasses again.
4 My opinion is,' said Gonzagues, slowly and gravely,4 that
nothing will come of it. I know the man. Lagardere said
—" At nine I shall be with youat nine we shall see Lagar-
dere face to face. I know it. I could swear it. No army
could prevent Lagardere keeping his appointment. Whether
he will descend from the chimney, or jump in by the window,
or rise up from the floor, I know not; but, at the given hour,
we shall see him seated at this table.'
4 By all the saints 1' cried Chaverny,4 let me meet him, but
man to man.'
4 Hold your tongue!' cried Gonzagues, harshly. 'I don't
like combats between giants and dwarfs, except at fairs. This
conviction is so strong in me, gentlemen,' he added, turning
to the other,4 that I felt the blade of my rapier.' He drew
and bent his supple, shining blade. 4 The hour approaches;
do as I do. I advise you strongly to trust only to your good
swords.' All eyes followed him to the magnificent clock that
grumbled in its rosewood case. The hand was upon the stroke
of nine. The guests rose to take up their swords, lying here
and there upon the furniture.
4 Give him to me,' cried Chaverny; 4 man to man.'
'Where are you going?' asked Gonzagues of Peyrolles,
who hastened towards the door.
4 To shut the door,' answered the prudent factotum.
4 Let the door be open; I said it should be open, and it
shall. It is a signal, gentlemen. If the two folds shut, re-
joice; it is a sign that the enemy has fallen, Jbut so long as
they are open, watch.'
Peyrolles placed himself in the last row with Oriol, Taranne,
and the rest of the financiers. Near Gonzagues were Choisy,
Navailles, Nocd, Gironne, all gentlemen. Chaverny was on
the other side, nearest the table. They had all their drawn
swords in their hands. All eyes were earnestly fixed on the
dark gallery. This solemn, uneasy expectation gave a great
THE NEW MOVE.
241
idea of tlie man who was expected. The clock made the
grumbling which clocks always make previous to striking.
' You are ready, gentlemen ?' said Gonzagues, his eye on the
doorway.
'We are,'all answered around. They had counted their
number. Numbers often give courage.
Gonzagues, who had his sword-point stuck into the floor,
took up his glass, and with a defiant air, just at the moment
the clock began to strike, he said—' To Lagardere's health.
The glass in one hand, the sword in the other!' He seized
his glass.
The rest repeated after him—' The glass in one hand, the
sword in the other!' Then all remained silent, their glasses
filled, clasping their weapons. They waited, eyes and ears on
the watch. During this deep silence, a noise of swords was
heard outside. The clock struck slowly; it seemed to make
a long pause between each stroke, so anxious were the lis-
teners. At the eighth stroke the noise outside ceased, and the
two flaps of the door shut suddenly. There was a loud hurrah.
Swords were lowered.
' Is Lagadere dead ?' cried Gonzagues.
'Is Lagardere dead?' said the guests, emptying their
glasses at a gulp.
Chaverny alone did not move, and remained silent. But
for a moment Gonzagues was seen to shudder, as he lifted
his glass to his lips. In the middle of the room the cloaks
and coverings heaped on the hunchback moved and were
raised. Gonzagues had thought no more of the hunchback ;
besides, he was ignorant of his strange position.
Gonzagues had said, ' I know not whether he will jump in
by the window, fall from the chimney, or arise from the
floor 5 but at the appointed time he will be among us.'
At the sight of this moving mass he stopped, crouching,
and put himself on guard. A sharp, dry laugh came from
under the cloaks.
' Let me be of the party; here I am, here I am,' cried a
feeble voice. It was not Lagadere.
Gonzagues began to laugh, and said, ' Our friend the
hunchback.'
The latter jumped on his feet, seized a glass, and joining
the drinkers, said,' To Lagadere. The coward must have known
I was here, and dared not come.'
' To the hunchback's health! Long live the hunchback 1'
cried the choir, laughing.
'Well, gentlemen, those who don't know your courage
as well as I do would say, from your joy, that you had been
alarmed. But what do these two swordsmen want?' He
16
242
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
pointed to the door next to the gallery, where stood, motion-
less, Coeardasse and Passepoil, who looked triumphant.
4 We bring our two heads,' said the Gascon, hypocritically.
4 Strike, and send two souls to heaven,' added Passepoil.
4 Separation of honour, cried Gonzagues, gaily; 4 give a
glass of win© to the two swordsmen, and let them drink
with us.'
Chaverny looked at them with the disgust inspired by a
hangman. He moved from the table as they approached.
4 On my faith,' he whispered to Choisy, who was near
him, 4 had Lagadere come I should have taken his part.'
4 Hush !' cried Choisy.
The hunchback, who had heard, pointed out Chaverny to
Gonzagues, saying, 4 Are you sure of that gentleman, prince ?'
4 No,' answered the prince.
Coeardasse and Passepoil touched glasses with the gentle-
men. Chaverny, no longer tipsy, listened to them. Passepoil
spoke of the white coat covered with blood. Coeardasse
related the story of the lecture-room at Yal de Grace.
* But all that is dreadful, infamous !' said Chaverny, going
straight to Gonzagues; 4 they must be talking of some one
who has been murdered.'
4 Oh!' cried the hunchback, pretending to be much sur-
prised; 'whence comes this person?'
Coeardasse, insolent and derisive, held up his glass to
Chaverny, who turned away with disgust.
'Palsambleu!' saidiEsop the Second;4 that gentleman seems
to have strange dislikes.'
The other guests were silent. Gonzagues put his hand on
Chaverny's shoulder—4 Take care, cousin; you have drunk too
much.'
'On the contrary, your highness,' said JEsop the Second in
his ear; 'I think the cousin has not drunk enough. Believe
me, I am right.'
Gonzagues fixed on him a suspicious look. The hunchback
laughed, and shook his head like a man who was sure of what
he affirmed.
4 Well!' said Gonzagues, 'you maybe right; I give him
up to you.'
4 Thanks, prince,' he replied.
Then approaching the little marquis, glass in hand, he said,
4 Will you also disdain to drink with me ?'
Chaverny laughed and held out his glass.
4 To your nuptials, handsome bridegroom,' cried the hunch-
back.
They sat down opposite each other, surrounded by their
bottleholdcrs and judges of the strife. The duel of Bacchus
THE NEW MOVE.
243
commenced between tbem. In this chamber where convi-
viality had hitherto missed fire, a great load seemed taken off
every one. Lagard^re was dead since he had missed his own
boasting appointment. Gonzagues no longer was in doubt ;
and if he ordered Peyrolles to make the round and inspect
tbe guard, it was only an excess of Italian caution. Precau-
tion does no harm. The sentinels posted outside were paid
by tbe night, it cost no more to leave them at their posts.
The greater the former fear, the greater the present enjoy-
ment. It was the true beginning of the f6te. Appetite returned,
thirst also. Gaiety shone on every face. The gentlemen re-
membered not how they had trembled; the financieres were as
brave as ever. Still, for every folly as for every sin, a scape-
goat is demanded. The poor stout Oriol expiated the general
cowardice. He was harassed, he was pillaged; all the
shudders, the turning pale, the faintings, were laid on his de-
voted head. Oriol alone had trembled, so said his friends.
He defended himself as best he might, and offered to fight
everybody. 4 The ladies! the ladies!' cried all;4 why not bring
back the ladies P'
At a sign from Gonzagues, Noce went and opened the door
of the boudoir. It was like a flight of birds from an aviary.
They entered talking all together, complaining of having
been kept out so long, laughing, crying, grimacing.
Nivelle said to Gonzagues, pointing to Donna Cruz, 4 Here
is a curious young lady; I snatched her away a dozen times
from the keyhole.'
'Oh, what could she have seen?' said Gonzagues, innocently.
4"We sent you away, charmers, for your own benefit; you
do not like to hear discussions on business.'
4 Have we been brought back for something?' asked Desbois,
4 Is it at last the marriage P' asked Le Fleury.
And Cidalise, seizing Cocardasse's chin with one hand and
Passepoil's with the other, said, 4 And are you the musicians ?'
'Capedieu! my fine lady,' replied Cocardasse, 4 we are
gentlefolks.'
Passepoil trembled at the contact of that soft, white hand;
he wished to speak but could not.
4 Ladies,' said Gonzagues, who kissed Donna Cruz's fingers,
'we do not wish to have secrets from you. If we deprived
ourselves for an instant of your presence, it was to arrange the
preliminaries of the marriage, which is to take place to-night.'
' It is, then, true we are going to have a farce.'
Gonzagues protested. ' It is. a real wedding,' he said,
seriously, as if the place itself and the persons did not give
the he to his assertion. He bent towards Donna Cruz and
said, 4 It is time to prepare your friend.'
16—3
244 the duke's motto.
Donna Cruz looted at him uneasily, 'You promised me,
prince,' she murmured.
'.All that I have promised I will fulfil,' he answered. Then
conducting Donna Cruz to the door, he added, ' She can
refuse. I keep to my word ; hut for herself and for another's
sake, whom I will not name, I hope that she may accept.'
Donna Cruz did not know Lagardere's fate and Gonzagues
counted upon that. She could not fathom the deep hypocrisy
of that pagan Tartuffe. Still on the threshold she hesitated.
' Prince,' she said, entreatingly, ' I do not doubt that you act
from noble and worthy motives, but such strange things have
happened since yesterday. "We are here two poor girls, who
have no experience for guessing riddles. In friendship for
me, in pity for that poor girl, whom I love and who is so un-
happy, tell me one word, one word that explains and might
be an argument against her opposition. I should be so strong
if I could tell her how this marriage can benefit him whom
she loves.'
Gonzagues interrupted her. ' Have you no confidence in
me, Donna CruzP and has she not confidence in youP I
afiirm, you believe me; you affirm, she believes you; and be
quick,' he added in an imperious tone; ' I am waiting for you.'
He bowed: Donna Cruz retired.
At this moment there was much noise in the drawing-room
—clamorous and joyful bursts of laughter.
'Bravo! Chaverny,'cried they all.
'Courage, hunchback,'criedsome. Chaverny'sglass was fallen.
' No cheating; it is a deadly combat. And the ladies!'
' Oh! they will kill themselves! they are mad; the little
hunehback is a devil.'
'If he has as many blue shares as it is reported,' murmured
Nivelle. ' I myself always had a fancy for hunchbacks.'
' But see how they drink !'
'Yes; there are two funnels, two sponges, two gulps;
bravo, Chaverny!'
' Courage! hunchback; two abysses, by my faith.'
There they were opposite one another, iEsop the Second and
the little marquis, surrounded by a circle that was always
increasing. The invasion of English manners at this period
had set the fashion of these tournaments of the bottle. Beside
them a dozen empty bottles testified the brilliant blows given,
or rather swallowed, by each combatant. Chaverny was
deathly pale, his eyes already bloodshot, looking almost
starting from his head, but he was used to such trials of skill.
Notwithstanding the elegance of his figure he was a formidable
toper, his exploits were innumerable. The hunchback, on the
other hand, had a rosy complexion : his eyes shone with ex-
the hunchback's triumph.
545
traordinary brilliancy. He moved about, be talked; wbich,
as everybody knows, is a bad sign. Talking intoxicates
almost as much as wine. Every champion of the bottle ought
to be as silent as fishes. The odds seemed to be for Chaverny.
'A hundred pistoles for the little marquis,' cried Navailles ;
' the hunchback will have to return under the cloaks.'
' I accept,' said the hunchback, who reeled on his chair.
' My pocket-book for the marquis,' said Navailles, who saw
this.
' How much in it ?' cried iEsop, between two hiccups.
'Five blues! all my fortune, alas !'
'I bet two to one,' cried the hunchback ; ' pass the wine.'
'Which do you like the best ?' murmured Passepoil to his
friend. Tie was looking by turns at Cidalise, Nivelle, Fleury,
Desbois.
' The fellow will drown himself,' cried Cocardasse, who
could not take his eyes off the hunchback ; ' I have seen but
one man drink like that.'
iEsop the Second quitted his seat; they thought he would
have fallen, but he only seated himself upon the table, looking
round with his cynical smile. ' Have you no larger glasses ?'
he cried, throwing his away with the nutshells ; ' we may go
on till to-morrow.'
CHAPTER XLI.
the hunchback's triumph.
It js still the same room on the ground floor where we saw
Aurora and Donna Cruz, the early part of the evening.
Aurora was on her knees, but not praying. The noise which
came from the room above was redoubled. It was the
singular combat between Chaverny and the hunchback.
Aurora paid no attention. She was thinking. Her beautiful
eyes, heavy with weeping, were gazing on nothing. She did
not heed, so deep was her reverie, the noise that Donna Cruz
made coming into the room. The latter came forward on
tiptoe, and kissed her hair behind. Aurora turned her head
slowly. The gipsy's heart bled when she saw the poor pale
cheeks and the eyes almost blinded with tears.
' I am ready,' replied Aurora.
' I come to see you.'
'Donna Cruz did not expect this. You have reflected
since I was here.'
' I have been praying; prayer makes dark things clear.'
Donna Cruz approached eagerly. ' Tell me what you have
found out?' she asked. There was in the question more
affectionate interest than curiosity.
246
THE DUKE S MOTTO.
4 I am ready,' said Aurora,4 ready to die!'
4 But it is not a question of dying, dear'little sister.
4 I have had this thought a long time,' interrupted Aurora,
in a tone of despair. It is I who am his misfortune; it is I
who am the danger which threatens him on all sides—I who
am his evil angel. "Without me he would he free—he would
he at peace—he would he happy.'
Donna Cruz listened, but could not understand.
• Oh! why did I not do yesterday what I meditated to-day ?
Why did I not fly from his house ?—why did I not die ?'
4 What do you mean ?' cried the gipsy.
4 X"ou cannot know, Flor, my darling sister, what a differ-
ence there is between yesterday and to-day. I saw opened
before me a paradise—a whole life of holy joys and sacred
' Had I known it sooner, God only knows, he had never
suffered the needless dangers of the journey. I doubted—I
was afraid. Oh! how foolish we are, sister. We ought to
tremble and not rejoice when great happiness is offered to us,
and it brings the joys of heaven down to earth. But it can-
not be! There is no happiness here on earth!'
' But what have you resolved to do?' asked the gipsy, who
understood nothing of mysticism.
4 Obey, in order to save him.'
Donna Cruz was delighted- 4 Let us go, the prince awaits
us.' Then she added, suddenly, while a slight shade passed over
her face, ' Do you know, I pass my life in doing heroic de&ds
for you. I do not love as you do, but I love after my way;
and you arc always in my path.' Aurora looked astonished.
4 Do not be uneasy,' cried Donna Cruz, smiling. 41 shall not
die, I promise you. I dare say I shall love some one else as
well; but it is certain without you I should not haVe re-
nounced the king of all knights-errant, the handsome Lagar-
dere. It is certain that after Lagard^re, the only man that
has at all pleased me has been that tipsy Chaverny.'
4 What P' cried Aurora.
41 know—I know his behaviour may seem light, but I
cannot help it. Except Lagardere, I detest saints, and this
stupid little marquis will come into my thoughts.'
Aurora took her hand, smiling. 4 Little sister, your heart
is better than your words ; but why, besides, should you have
those proud refinements of exalted birth?'
Donna Cruz pinched her lips. 4 You think yourself, then,
of high birth P'
41 am Mademoiselle de Nevers I'
Cruz.
yesterday ?' asked Donna
THE HUNCHBACK'S TRIUMPH.
247
'Lagard^re told you?' asked Donna Cruz, without even
dreaming of raising any objection; she was not ambitious.
4 No!' said Aurora: 4 and this is the only wrong that I have
to reproach him with. If he had told me '
4 But if not he, who then ?' asked Donna Cruz.
4 No one; I know it, that is all. Since yesterdayj^all that
has happened since my childhood has for me a ne\t*:«£e£ming.
I remembered, I have compared ; the meaning hafe' become
clear of itself. The child who slept in the trenches'-dffCaylus
while its father was murdered, was myself! I can still see
the strange expression of his face as we reached that dreadful
place. Did not he make me kiss the forehead of Nevers'
statue in the cemetery Magloire? And this Gonzagues,
whose name has persecuted me from infancy, is he hot the
same Gonzagues who dealt this last blow to-day, is he not the
husband of Nevers' widow ?'
4 Since it was he who wished to give me to my mother,'
added the gipsy.
4 My poor Flor, we cannot explain it all, I know. • We arc
but children, and God has kept our hearts pure ; how can we
fathom the abyss of evil? And wherefore? What Gon-
zagues wishes to do with you I know not, but^you^are an
instrument in his hands. Since yesterday I have s^een that,
and since I have been talking to you, you see it your'shlf^-,;
'It is true,' murmured Donna Cruz, whose eyelids"were
half closed and her brows knitted.
4 Only yesterday,' continued Aurora, 4 Henri vowed that he
loved me.'
4 Only yesterday ?' cried the gipsy, astonished.
4 Why, there were obstacles between us, and what could
these obstacles be, but the scrupulous and fastidious honour
of the most loyal man on earth. It Was the greatness of my
birth, and the riches I ought to have inherited, that kept him
from me.'
Donna Cruz smiled. Aurora looked at her steadily,'and
her charming countenance took an expression of proud severity.
4 Must I have cause to repent speaking to you as I have
done ?' murmured Aurora.
4 Do not reprove me,' said the gipsy, throwing her arms
round her neck. 41 smiled because I should never have
guessed that obstacle—I who am not a princess.'
4 Would to God I were not one,' cried Aurora, weeping.
'Grandeur has its joys and its sufferings. I who shall die at
twenty, I shall have only known its tears.' She shut with a
caressing gesture the lips of Donna Cruz, who was going to
protest, and added,41 am calm; I have faith in God's goodness,
who does not extend our sufferings beyond this world. If I
248 TDK duke's motto.
speak of dying, tliink not tliat I shall hasten my last hour.
No ; suicide is a crime which shuts the gate of heaven ! If I
did not go to heaven, how could I meet him? No; others
will take upon themselves the trouble of my deliverance.
This I do not guess—I know.'
Donna Cruz turned pale. 'What do you mean?' she
asked, eagerly.
' I was here quite alone,' answered Aurora, slowly. * I
reflected on what I have told you, and on other things besides.
Proofs abound. It is because I am Mademoiselle de Nevers
that I was carried off yesterday; it is because I am Made-
moiselle de Nevers that the Princess Gonzagues persecuted
with so much hatred Henri, my friend. And do you know,
Flor, my sister, it is that that has taken away all my courage.
The thought of being between him and my mother, both
enemies, has pierced my heart like a dagger. The hour
would have come when I should have been forced to choose.
Since I have learnt my father's name, I have imbibed my
father's spirit. The call of duty seems to me as imperious as
happiness itself. Yesterday I knew nothing that could keep
me from Henri, and to-day '
' To-day,' repeated Donna Cruz, seeing she had stopped.
Aurora turned away her head to wipe her tears. Donna
Cruz looked at her with emotion. Donna Cruz gave up all
the brilliant hopes that Gonzagues had inspired her with
without an effort and without regret. She was like a child
who, awaking, smiled at the golden charms of a stveet dream.
' My little sister,' she said, ' you are Aurora de Nevers. I
believe it: not many duchesses have daughters like you. But
just now you said something that frightens me and makes me
uneasy.'
' What ?' asked Aurora.
' You said others will charge themselves with your deliver-
ance.'
' I forgot,' said Aurora. ' I was here quite alone, my head
throbbing and heated, fever, gave me courage. I left this
room ; I took the way you showed me ; I mounted the secret
staircase, and I found myself in the boudoir, where we were
both a little while ago. I approached the door, behind which
the men were calling for you. The voice had ceased. Hooked
through the keyhole, there were only men.'
' They sent us away,' said Donna Cruz.
'Do you know wherefore, my little Flor?'
' Gonzagues told us '
' Ah!' said Aurora, shuddering, ' that man who appeared to
command the rest, he was, then, Gonzagues ?'
' The Prince Gonzagues.'
THE HUNCHBACK'S TRIUMPH.
249
4 I know what he told you; hut he spoke false!'
4 Why do you think that, little sister?'
'Because, had he said the truth, you would not have come
to fetch me, my little Flor.'
4 What is the truth ? you make me mad.'
There was a long silence; during which Aurora seemed to
reflect, her head leaning on her friend's shoulder. 4 Did you
remark,' she said afterwards, 4 the bouquets of flowers which
adorn the table ?'
4 Yes ; beautiful flowers !'
'And did not Gonzagues say, if she refuses she shall be
4 His very words.'
4 Well, then, Gonzagues was speaking when I looked through
the keyhole. The guests listened, motionless, pale, silent. I
put my ear to the hole, and I heard '
A voice was heard by the door, and the sallow, fawning
face of Peyrolles appeared on the threshold, 4 Ladies ! you
are waited for.'
Aurora arose at once. 41 am ready,' she said.
Ascending the stairs Donna Cruz approached her, and
whispered, 4 Tell me, what were you saying about flowers ?'
Aurora pressed her hand, and answered, with a sweet smile,
'Beautiful flowers ! You told me the Prince Gonzagues is a
gallant and noble gentleman. If I refuse, I shall not only be
free, but I shall have bouquets of beautiful flowers.'
Donna Cruz looked at her earnestly; she felt that these
words had some fearful meaning, but she could not divine
what.
4 Bravo! hunchback. You shall be elected king of topers.'
4 Hold steady, Chaverny—steady, steady. Chaverny has
thrown half a glassful over his shirt front; that is cheating.'
The two large glasses called for by the hunchback were
brought. There was a burst of merriment. They were two
Bohemian vidercomes, used in summer for iced drinks : they
he" 1 * '
The little marquis tried to imitate him, but his hand trembled.
4 Will you make me lose my five little granddaughters ?
cried Hive lie.
4 How well Nivelle would have pronounced the 44 let him
die,"' said Havailles.
4 Oh, one has trouble enough to get one's money,' cried
Hivelle.
There were a number of bets made, and everyone bowed to
Navailles' opinion.
La Pleury, who was no gambler, having risked the pro-
free ?'
bottle of champagne.
250
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
posal, that it was time to put a stop to it, met with a general
cry of disapproval.
'We are only at the beginning,' said the hunchback,
laughing; 'help the marquis to fill his glass.'
Noce, Choisy, Gironne, Oriol, were around Chaverny;
they filled his glass to the brim.
' Ah,' sighed Cocardasse 3 ' it is always heaven's grand
gift.'
' As to Passepoil, he admired by turns Nivelle, Le Pleury,
Desbois, and the other ladies.
' To your healths,' said the hunchback, raising his large
glass.
' Your health,' muttered Chaverny.
Gironne and Noce supported his trembling hand.
The hunchback continued, bowing all round,' This bumper
must be drunk all at once.'
'What a jewel the fellow is!' cried Cocardasse, enthu-
siastically.
' You will kill him,' cried out some of the ladies.
'Steady, marquis, steady,' said Nivelle, anxious for her
share.
The hunchback put the glass to his lip», and drank slowly,
but in one gulp.
A great clapping of hands.
Chaverny, supported by seconds, drank also his vidercome,
but it was evidently his last effort.
'Another .''cried the hunchback, gaily, holding out his glass.
' Ten more,' cried Chaverny, recovering.
'Hold steady, marquis,' cried the gamblers 3 ' don't look at
the chandelier.' ^
He gave an idiot laugh. ' Be quiet,' he muttered; ' stop the
swing, and keep the lamp from turning.'
Nivelle made her decision 3 she was brave. 'Little
treasure,' she said to the hunchback, 'I was only in joke.
They might strangle me sooner than I would bet against
you.' She put her pocket-book into her pocket, and passed,
overwhelming Chaverny with a look.
'Come, come,' said the hunchback, 'something to drink;
I am thirsty.'
' Some more wine,' cried Chaverny; ' stdp the pendulum.'
The glasses were filled ; the hunchback took his with a
steady hand. ' To the health of these ladies,' he cried.
'To the health of these ladies,' whispered Passepoil to
Nivelle.
Chaverny made a last effort to raise his glass; the full
vidercome fell from his hand, to the great indignation of
Cocardasse.
THE HtJNCHBACK'S TBlUMPH.
251
'Really, those ought to be put in prison who waste good
wine.'
' Begin again,' cried Chaverny's seconds.
The hunchback gallantly offered his glass ; it was filled.
But Chaverny's eyelids quivered like the wings of the
butterflies that thoughtless children fasten on pins. It was
the end.
' You lose, Chaverny,' cried Oriol.
'You get pale,' added Navailles. ' Chaverny, you totter—
Chaverny, you are lost.'
' Hurrah! for the little man. Hurrah,* iEsop the Second,
Let us carry the hunchback in triumph.'
There was a great tumult, then silence. They had ceased
to support Chaverny. He rocked backwards and forwards
on his chair, his powerless hands seeking in vain some support.
' They did not say that the house was going to fall,' he
muttered; ' the house looked strong, it is not a plaything.'
Chaverny gave way, lost his balance, and slid under the
table. Fresh applause.
The hunchback, in triumph, raised the glass that had been
just filled for the vanquished to his lips, and swallowed it,
standing on the table. He stood as firm as a rock.
The room shook with applause.
' What is it ?' asked Gonzagues, who approached.
iEsop the Second jumped nimbly off the table. 'You
give him to me, prince,' he said.
' Where's Chaverny ?' i
The hunchback pointed with his foot. ' Chavetny lies
here,' he said.
Gonzagues knitted his brows and said, ' Dead drunk; it is
too bad; and we had need of him.'
'For the betrothment, prince ?' asked the hunchback, who
smoothed his shirt frill with the importance of a great lord
bowing with his hat under his arm.
'Yes, for the betrothment,' answered Gonzagues.
'By Jove, one lost, one gained. Such as I am, prince, I
should not be sorry to be married ; and I offer myself to do
your bidding.'
A burst of laughter greeted the unexpected proposal.
Gonzagues looked attentively at the hunchback, who had
placed himself before him, his vidercome in his hand.
'Do you know what you must do, to replace him who lies
there ?' asked Gonzagues, pointing to Chaverny.
' Yes; I know what must be done.'
' And you feel the courage, the strength ?'
iEsop the Second gave a proud, cruel sneer. 'You don't
know me, prince,' he said. ' I have done more than that.'
252
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
CHAPTER XLII.
ITALIAN UIOWEKS.
Every one surrounded the table ; drinking bad recommenced.
' A capital notion,' cried all. ' Let us marry the hunchback
instead of Chaverny ; it will be far more amusing. The
hunchback will make a famous husband. And Chaverny's
face when he shall awake, and find himself a widower!'
Oriol fraternized with Passepoil at the command of Nivelle,
who had taken that trembling novice under her gracious
protection. They no longer observed those absurd distinctions.
Cocardasse drank with every one. He took it as a matter
of course, and did not pride himself upon it. He always
comported himself with a dignity beyond all praise. Even
staid Oriol, who treated him too familiarly, was repulsed
severely.
The prince and the hunchback were a little apart from the
rest. The prince still considered the little man attentively,
and seemed to read his secret thoughts under the sneering
mask that distorted his face.
'Prince,' he said, ' what guarantee do you require?'
' I wish first to know what you have guessed ?'
'I guessed nothing. I was there; I heard the parable
of the peach, the story of the flowers, and the panegyric on
Italy.'
Gonzagues followed his finger, pointing to the chair and
cloaks and coats still heaped upon it.
' It is just,' he said; 'you were there. Bah! why this fool's
play ?'
' I wished to know, and I wished to think Chaverny was
not your man.'
' It is true; but I had a weakness for him.'
'"Weakness is always an evil, because it always creates
danger. Chaverny sleeps now, but he will awake.'
'It may be,' murmured Gonzagues. 'But no more of
Chaverny. What think you of the parable of the peach?'
'Pretty, but too strong for your cowards.'
' And the story of the flowers ?'
' Graceful, but too strong; they were afraid.'
' I don't speak of those gentlemen. I know them better
than you.'
' To be proved,' interrupted the hunchback.
Gonzagues looked at him, and smiled. 'Answer for
yourself.'
' Everything from Italy pleases me. I never heard a more
delightful anecdote than that of the Count of Canozza at the
ITALIAN FLOWERS.
253
vineyard of Spoletto; but I would not have related it to
these gentlemen.'
' You think yourself, then, much stronger than they?'
iEsop smiled significantly, and deigned no further reply.
'Well,' asked Navailles, from a distance; 'is the marriage
arranged ?'
Gonzagues motioned him to be silent.
Nivelle said, ' That little fellow has, I dare say, a bundle
of blues as big as himself. I would marry him.'
'You be MadameiEsop the Second!' cried Oriol, evidently
piqued.
'Nonsense,' said Nivelle, pointing to Cocardasse ; 'you see
that fellow talking : with a little Mississippi powder, I would
undertake to make a courtier of him.'
Cocardasse bridled, and said to Passepoil, ' The damsel has
good taste.'
' What have you more than Chaverny ?' asked Gonzagues
of the hunchback.
'Precedents: I have been married before.'
'Ah!' cried Gonzagues, whose look became more piercing.
iEsop the Second stroked his chin, and did not shun his
gaze.
'I have been married, and I am a widower.'
The face of the hunchback became a shade darker.
'My wife was beautiful,' he said, lowering his voice,
'very beautiful.'
'And young ?' echoed Gonzagues.
' Quite young; her father was poor.'
' I understand. Did you love her ?'
' Passionately; but our union was short.'
The face of the hunchback became still darker.
' How long did it last ?' interrogated Gonzagues.
' A day and a half,' answered iEsop.
' I don't understand you. Explain.'
The little man forced a laugh.
' Why explain, if you understand ?'
' I don't comprehend,' said the prince.
The hunchback looked down, and seemed to hesitate.
' After all,' he said, ' perhaps I was mistaken, and you only
needed a Chaverny.'
'Explain, I tell you,' repeated Gonzagues, imperiously.
' Did you explain the history of the Count Canozza ?'
The prince put his hand on his shoulder.
'The day after the wedding I gave her four-and-twenty
hours to reflect and accustom herself to my appearance. She
could not.'
' And after ?' said Gonzagues, who looked at him greedily.
25 4
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
The hunchback took a glass off the table and looked the
prince steadily in the face. Their eyes met; those of the
hunchback expressed such implacable cruelty, that the prince
murmured, ' So young, so beautiful, and you had no pity.'
The hunchback crushed the glass with a convulsive move-
ment. ' I choose to be loved,' he said, with an accent of real
ferocity; ' so much the worse for her who could not love me.'
Gonzagues remained a moment silent; the hunchback re-
gained his cold, sneering expression.
' Hollo! gentlemen,' cried the prince, suddenly, who pushed
with his foot the sleeping Chaverny. ' Take away this man.'
iEsop drew his breath. He made an effort to conceal his
triumph. Navailles, Choisy, all the little marquis's friends,
made a last effort in his favour. They shook him, they called
him. Oriol threw a decanter of water over him. The ladies
had the kindness to pinch him hard. And all cried eagerly,
' Awake ! awake ! Chaverny; your wife is being carried off!'
' And you will be obliged to give back the marriage-portion!'
added Nivelle, always thinking of the main chance. Vain
efforts ! Cocardasse and Passepoil taking the vanquished on
their shoulders, carried him off into outer darkness.
Gonzagues had made a sign to them. When they passed
JEsop the Second, he said to them in a low voice, 'Not a hair
of his head. On your life! Carry the letter to its address.'
Cocardasse and Passepoil retired with their burden.
' We did all we could,' said Navailles.
' We have been faithful friends to the last. But, in truth,
the hunchback's marriage is much the drollest,' decided Koce.
' Let us marry the hunchback! let us marry the hunch-
back !' cried the ladies.
iEsop the Second jumped with one bound on to the table.
' Silence!' cried all;' iEsop the Second is going to make a
speech.'
' Ladies and gentlemen,' began the hunchback, gesticulating
like a barrister in full court, ' I am deeply affected by the
flattering interest that you deign to take in me. Truly, the
consciousness of my want of merit ought to make me silent.'
' Capital!' cried Navailles ; ' he talks like a book.'
'Jona,' said Nivelle, 'your diffidence still more exalts
your talents.'
' Bravo ! iEsop; bravo !'
' Thanks, ladies and gentlemen, thanks ; your indulgence
gives me courage to strive to make myself worthy of it, and
also of the kindness of the illustrious prince to whom I shall
owe my wife.'
' Very well, iEsop ! Bravo! a little louder. Some gestures
with the left liaud,' asked JNavailies.
ITALIAN FLOWERS.
2 55
4 A few verses on the occasion!' cried Desbois.
4 A minuet on the tablecloth! A hornpipe from your ros-
trum!'
' If you are not ungrateful,' said Noce, earnestly, 4 give us
the scene between Achilles and Agamemnon.'
4 Ladies and gentlemen,' answered iEsop, gravely, 4 those
are antiquated. I propose to testify my gratitude by some-
thing better. I intend to give you a new farce, the first time
of being acted—the works of Jona Bravissimo.'
4 Capital! he has written a farce.'
4 Ladies and gentlemen, I am at least going to make one.
It will be an impromptu. I propose to show you the art of
seduction, stronger even than nature itself.'
For once the windows shook ; the applause was astound-
ing. 4 He is going to give us a lesson,5 they cried. 4 The art
of pleasing, by JEsop the Second, called Jona.'
4 He has the girdle of Venus in his pocket.'
4 The gambols, the smiles, the graces, and the arrows of
youthful Cupid.'
4 Bravo! hunchback, you are splendid.'
He bowed all round, and concluded smiling.
4 Let my young wife be brought, and I will do my best to
amuse the company.'
41 will get you engaged at the opera, if you will!' cried
FTivelle, with enthusiasm: 4 they are in want of pantaloons.'
'The hunchback's wife! bring the hunchback's wife !' cried
the gentlemen.
At this moment the door of the boudoir opened, and Gon-
zagues commanded silence. Donna Cruz entered, supporting
Aurora, trembling and as pale as death. Master Peyrolles
followed. At sight of Aurora there was a long murmur of
admiration. At first the gentlemen forgot all the absurd
merriment that they had promised themselves. The hunch-
back had no response when he said, in a cynical tone, his
eyeglass in his eye, 4 Corbleu! my wife is handsome.' In the
depth of their hearts, rather perverted than wicked, a feeling
of compassion arose. For an instant, the ladies themselves
felt pity, so much deep grief and soft resignation appeared on
Aurora's lovely countenance.
Gonzagues frowned when he looked at his army, Ta-
ranne, Montaubert, and Albret, the most hardened of them,
were ashamed of their emotion, and said, 'What a happy
devil the hunchback is !' This was also the opinion of Passe-
poil, who entered in company of his noble friend. But
the first feeling of envy gave place to astonishment when he,
as well as Cocardasse, recognised the two young girls of the
street du Chantre—the young girl that the Gascon had seen
256 the duke's motto.
on Lagardere's arm at Barcelona, and the young girl that
brother Passepoil had seen with Lagarddre at Brussels.
They were neither of them in the secret of the play : what
was going to happen was a mystery to them, hut they knew
it would he something extraordinary. They touched each
other's elbow with a look which meant, Attention. They
did not need to try their swords to know that they did not
stick to the scabbards.
To a glance of the hunchback's, Cocardasse answered by a
nod.
' I wager,' he grumbled to Passepoil, ' he wants to know
whether his letter has been delivered: we had not so far to
go-'
Donna Cruz looked round for Chaverny. ' Perhaps,' she
whispered to her companion, 'the prince has changed his
mind ; I do not see the marquis.'
Aurora did not raise her eyes, but shook her head sadly.
Evidently she expected no pity. "When Gonzagues turned
towards her, Donna Cruz took her hand and led her forward.
.Gonzagues was very pale, but he forced a smile. The
hunchback, too, was beside him, doing his best to assume a
gallant attitude, and smoothing his shirt frill with a vie-
torious air. The eyes of Donna Cruz met his: she sought to
read his thoughts, but the hunchback looked imperturbable.
' My dear child,' said Gonzagues, whose voice showed
some emotion, ' has Mademoiselle de Nevers told you what
we expect from you ?'
Aurora answered without lifting her eyes, but with her
head erect, and in a firm tone, *'I am Mademoiselle de
JNevers.'
The hunchback shuddered so violently, that his emotion
was remarked even in the midst of the general surprise.
' Palsambleu !' he cried, recovering himself in an instant,
' my wife comes of a good family.'
' His wife !' repeated Donna Cruz.
There was a general whisper. The ladies had not, towards
the new comer, the same jealousy as they had lately testified
to the gipsy. On that innocent brow, lovely in its pride, the
name of Nevers seemed well placed.
Gonzagues turned to Donna Cruz and said, angrily—' Have
you put this falsehood into the head of this poor child ?'
' Ah !' said the hunchback, disappointed ; ' it is false, then.
I should have liked to have been allied to the house of Nevers.'
Some laughed, but there was a general coldness.
Peyrolles was as gloomy as a beadle at a funeral.
' It was not I,' answered Donna Cruz, little frightened by
the prince's anger; ' but if it were true ?'
ITALIAN FLOWERS. 257
Gonzagues shrugged liis shoulders in disdain.
'Where is the Marquis Chaverny? and what is the
meaning of this man's words ?'
She pointed to the hunchback, who preserved a calm de-
meanour in the midst of the courtiers.
'Mademoiselle de Nevers,' answered Gonzagues, 'your
part in all this is done. If you are disposed to desert your
rights, I am here, thank Heaven! to protect them. I am your
guardian. Those who surround you all belong to the family
council which assembled yesterday at my house; in fact, they
are almost the majority. Had I followed the general advice
I might perhaps have shown less clemency towards so impu-
dent an imposture; but I judge according to the kindness of
my own heart and the tranquil delight of my life. I did not
wish to give tragical importance to things which are rather
ridiculous than serious.'
He stopped; Donna Cruz did not understand him. To her
liis words were vain sounds. Perhaps Aurora understood
them better, for a bitter smile played on her lips. Gonzagues
looked round the assembly. All eyes were on the ground,
except the ladies', who listened with curiosity, and the hunch-
back's who appeared to be waiting impatiently the end of this
homily.
'I speak here for you alone, Mademoiselle de Nevers,'
continued Gonzagues, ' for you alone have need to be per-
suaded. My noble friends and councillors partake my senti-
meats, and my mouth expresses their opinions.' No one
objected. Gonzagues continued. 'What I said just now about
my intention of not taking things in a serious light explains
to you the presence of my lovely friends. If a punishment
adequate to the offence was contemplated, they would not be
here.'
'But what fault?' asked Nivelle. 'We are all anxiety, prince.'
'What fault!' interrupted Gonzagues, apparently repressing
a feeling of indignation > ' it is assuredly a very great fault—
the law calls it a crime—to introduce oneself fraudulently into
an illustrious family to usurp a place vacant through absence
or death!'
'But poor Aurora has done nothing !' cried Donna Cruz.
'Silence!' interrupted Gonzagues. 'A stop must be put
to the course of this daring adventuress. Heaven is my
witness! I wish her no" harm; and give a large sum to
unravel her odyssee. I marry her.'
* At last!' saidiEsop the Second, 'we have got to the end.'
'And I say to her,' continued Gonzagues, taking the
hunchback's hand, ' Here is an honest man who loves you,
and aspires to the honour of being your husband.'
258 the duke's motto.
' Bat you have deceived me, prince!' cried Donna Cruz, red
with anger; ' this is not the one. Is it possible to marry such
a creature ?'
' If he has many blues,' reflected Nivelle.
' Not flattering, not at all flattering,' murmured iEsop the
Second; 'but I hope the young lady will soon change her
opinion.'
' You!' cried Donna Cruz; ' I know you now. It is
you who have done all this mischief! you who betrayed
Aurora's retreat!'
*Eh! eh!' Baid the hunchback, with a self-satisfied air.
' Eh! eh! I am very capable of doing so. Prince, this young
lady is too talkative, she prevents my wife from answering.'
' Had it been the Marquis Chaverny,' began Donna Cruz.
'Hush! little sister,' said Aurora, in the steady frozen
tone she had assumed from the beginning. ' Had it been M.
de Chaverny,I should have refused him as I refuse this person.'
The hunchback appeared not the least disconcerted.
' My angel, this is not your final determination ?'
The gipsy placed herself between him and Aurora. She
longed to fight with some one. Gonzagues had resumed his
careless, proud air.
'No answerP' said the hunchback, advancing a step, his
hat under his arm, his hand on his heart; ' it is because you
do not know me, my beautiful one; I could pass all my life
at your feet.'
' As for that, that is too much,' said Nivelle.
The other ladies listened and waited. There is in women
a peculiar instinct that resembles second sight. They felt
there was some fearful tragedy masked by this farce, which,
notwithstanding the efforts of the principal actor, flagged so
painfully. The gentlemen who were better informed pre-
tended gaiety. But gaiety comes not at every call. Eebellious
merriment kept aloof. When the hunchback spoke, his sharp
voice grated on every ear. When the hunchback spoke not,
the silence was awful.
'Well, gentlemen!' cried Gonzagues, suddenly, 'why do
you not drink ?'
The glasses were filled languidly, no one was thirsty.
' Listen to me, lovely being!' said the hunchback ? ' I will
be your little husband—your lover—your slave!'
' Oh! it is a fearful dream,' cried Donna Cruz; ' for my
part I would rather die.'
Gonzagues stamped with anger, his looks menaced his
protegee.
'Prince!' said Aurora, with the calm of despair, 'do not
prolong this j X know that Henri de Lagardere is dead.'
fascination.
259
For the second lime the hunchback started as if he had
received some sudden shock. He was silent. A profound
stillness reigned in the room.
'But who then has told you, mademoiselle ?' asked Gon-
zagues, with grave courtesy.
' Do not ask me, sir ! Let us go on to the end, which is
already decided on. I accept it. I desire it.'
Gonzagues seemed to hesitate. He little expected that
lie should be asked for the Italian bouquet. Aurora's hand
moved perceptibly towards the flowers. Gonzagues looked
at this being, so young and beautiful!
' Do you prefer some one else ?' he asked, in a low voice.
'You wished me to be told, prince, that if I refused I
should be free. I claim the fulfilment of your promise.'
'And you know ' whispered Gonzagues.
' I know all,' interrupted Aurora, raising her heavenly
eyes j ' and I wish you to offer me some flowers.'
CHAPTER XLIII.
fascination.
These were only Donna Cruz and the ladies who saw nothing
dreadful in the matter. Eor the male part of the assembly,
financiers and gentlemen, their blood ran cold. Cocardasse
and Passepoil kept their eyes fixed on the hunchback like
two dogs at fault.
In thepresence of these women, astonished, uneasy, curious j
in the presence of these men, enervated by disgust, but with-
out sufficient energy to break their chain, Aurora alone was
calm. She had that soft yet radiant beauty, that deep yet
resigned sadness of a saint who suffers martyrdom on earth,
still looking hopefully, trustfully towards heaven. Gonzagues
had put out his hand towards the flowers, but his hand fell.
This came on him too suddenly, he was taken aback. He
expected some opposition, at the end of which these flowers,
given ostensibly to the young girl, might have sealed the
participation of his adherents. But in face of this beautiful
and gentle creature Gonzagues' perversity forsook him.
What of feeling still lurked in the inward recesses of his heart
revolted. The Count Canozza was a man. The hunchback's
eyes glared. Three o'clock struck. In the midst of this
profound silence a voice whispered behihd Gonzagues—
' The family tribunal sits to-morrow!'
It was the wretched Peyrolles, whose shrivelled heart was
dead to every human feeling.
17—2
260
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
' Do what you will!' murmured Gonzagues, turning away
his head.
Instantly Peyrolles took the bouquet of flowers designated
by Gonzagues.
Donna Cruz, seized with a vague terror, cried out, ' What
did you tell me about flowers ?'
' Mademoiselle!' pronounced at this moment Peyrolles,
' you are free! All these ladies have bouquets, allow me to
present you one.'
He did it awkwardly. His face looked ghastly with in-
famy. Still Aurora held out her hand for the flowers.
' Capedebion!' cried Cocardasse; ' there is some treachery
at work!'
Donna Cruz, who looked eagerly at Peyrolles, instinctively
started forward; but another hand had forestalled her.
Peyrolles, roughly repulsed, retreated to the wall. The
nosegay fell from his hand, and the hunchback coolly trod it
under foot. All became relieved from a load.
* What is the meaning of this ?' cried Peyrolles, putting his
hand on his sword.
Gonzagues looked suspiciously at the hunchback.
'Ho flowers,' said the latter; 'I alone in future have the
right of making such presents to my wife. Why, the deuce!
how concerned you look, as if a thunderbolt had fallen among
Jrou. Nothing has fallen but a nosegay of faded flowers. I
et things go so far to have all the merit of the victory. Put
up your sword, friend, and quickly,' he said, to Peyrolles.
' Prince, command this knight of the rueful countenance not
to trouble our pleasures. In good faith, I admire you—you
that throw the handle after the hatchet—you break compacts.
Permit me not to give up so easily,'
' Ho is right! he is right!' was echoed around.
Every one snatched at this means of escaping from the
gloom which continually arose to chase away all gaiety from
Gonzagues' feast.
; It may be supposed that Gonzagues ,hoped nothing from
the hunchback's experiment. Still, it gave him a few minutes
for reflection—that was something.
' I am right, of course,' said 2Esop the Second; ' did I not
promise you a lesson in love-tilting ? And you are going
to act without me, and do not let me put in a word. This
young girl pleases me—I wish for her, and she shall be
mine.'
' That is speaking to some purpose,' cried Navailles.
'Let us see,' said the stout little financier, pompously, 'if
you are as strong in love assaults as you are in bacchanalian
combats.'
FASCINATION.
261
'We will be judged—enter tbe lists.'
The hunchback looked at Aurora, then at the circle around
her. Aurora, overcome by the last effort she had made, had
sunk into the arms of Donna Cruz. Cocardasse wheeled an
armchair towards her; Aurora let herself fall into it.
' Appearances are against poor iEsop,' murmured Noce.
As Gonzagues did not smile, they remained serious.
The ladies busied themselves with Aurora except Nivelle,
who thought, ' I have a notion that the little man is a real
Croesus.'
' Prince, permit me to make you a request. You are too
highly placed to have intended to make game of me. If one
tells a man to run, one must not begin by tying his legs.
The first condition of success is solitude. When did you
ever see a woman moved to tenderness surrounded by curious
looks F Be just—it is impossible!'
'He is right again!' cried the choir.
' So many people frighten her. I myself lose part of my
power, for in love, the tender, the impassioned, the capti-
rating, always border on the ridiculous. How is it possible,
in such sneering company, to find those accents, those ex-
pressions, which intoxicate feeble womankind ?'
The little fellow was really comic, pronouncing his dis-
course with a vain, foppish air, one hand on his hip, the other
in his bosom. Had it not been for the sinister wind that
blew to-night in Gonzagues' pavilion, this speech would have
caused much merriment; as it was, they laughed a little.
Navailles said to Gonzagues—'Grant his request, prince.'
' What does he want ?' said Gonzagues; ' answer, and
speak.'
'That we may be left alone, my betrothed and me,' an-
swered the hunchback, ' and I promise in five minutes to
silence the repugnance of this young lady.'
'Pive minutes !' cried all; ' what a pace he keeps ! You
cannot refuse him that, prince.'
Gonzagues was silent.
The hunchback approached him, and whispered in his ear—
' Prince, you are observed. You would punish with death
any one who betrayed you as you betray yourself.'
' Thanks, friend,' answered the prince, whose face changed ;
' the advice is good. We shall certainly have a long account
to settle together. I think you will be a great lord before
you die. Gentlemen,' he said, ' I was thinking of you.
We have to-night gained a great victory. To-morrow, ac-
cording to all appearances, we shall be at the end of all our
difficulties—but we must not founder coming into port.
Pardon my distraction, and follow me.'
262
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
He assumed a smiling countenance. All faces cheered.
' Don't let us go too' far off,' said tlie ladies ; ' let us enjoy
tlie sight.'
'In the gallery,'proposed Noce ; 'we can leave the door
half open.'
' To work, Jonas, the field is open to you.'
' Surpass yourself, hunchback; we give you ten minutes
instead of five, watch in hand.'
' Gentlemen,' cried Qriol, ' bets are open.'
There was betting on everything and every occasion.
The bets were a hundred to one against the hunchback.
In passing Cocardasse and Passepoil, Gonzagues said—' For
a good sum, would you return to Spain ?'
'We would do everything to obey your highness.'
' Do not leave, then,' said the prince, joining the group of
allies.
When every one had left the room, the hunchback turned
towards the door of the gallery, where was a triple row of
heads.
'Well,' he said, with a sprightly air, 'very well 5 there,
you do not inconvenience me at all. Do not bet too much
against me, and look at your watches. But I have for-
gotten one thing.' He traversed the room, and approached
the gallery—' Where is the prince?'
' Here,' answered Gonzagues ; ' what is it ?'
'Ilavc you a notary ready P' asked the hunchback, with
magnificent gravity.
For once it was irresistible, a burst of laughter resounded
from the gallery.
' He laughs best who laughs the last,' murmured iEsop.
Gonzagues answered rather impatiently, ' Make your mind
easy, friend; make haste. There is a royal notary in my
room.'
The hunchback bowed, and returned to the two girls.
Donna Cruz saw him approach with horror. Aurora's
eyes were still cast down. The hunchback fell on his knees
before Aurora's chair.
Gonzagues, instead of looking on the scene that was so
attractive to his friends, walked apart on the arm of Peyrolles.
They went and leant against the other end of tho gallery.
' From Spain they may return!' said Peyrolles.
' They die in.Spain as well as in Paris,' replied his master.
There was a moment's silence.
' Here! it has failed—these women would guess, Donna
Cruz would speak.'
' Chaverny P' asked Peyrolles.
' He will be silent,' interrupted Gonzagues.
FASCINATION.
263
They exchanged a glance in the shade, Peyrolles asked no
farther explanation.
' She must,' continued Gonzagues, ' when leaving here, be
free, absolutely free, until the turn of the street.'
Peyrolles leant forward to listen.
'It is the watch passing,' said Gonzagues.
There was a great noise of arms, which was stifled by the
immense shouting from the gallery.
'It is astounding!' they cried, ' really prodigious!'
' Are our eyes deceived ? What can he be saying ?'
'Nonsense!' cried Nivelle, 'it is not difficult to guess.
He is telling her how many shares he has.'
'Badluck!' cried Navailles, who had bet a hundred to
one.
'No one,' answered Oriol; ' I would not take fifty to one,
nor even five-and-twenty. No, indeed! Look! look!'
The hunchback was still on his knees before Aurora's chair.
Donna Cruz wished to place herself between them. The
hunchback put her aside, saying, ' Allow me!' He spoke
low, his voice was so strangely altered, that Donna Cruz
drew back and opened her eyes wide. Instead of the sharp,
discordant tones that usually proceeded from his lips, it was
a soft, harmonious, manly voice. This voice pronounced the
name of Aurora. Donna Cruz felt her young companion
tremble feebly in her arms, then she murmured, 'It is a
dream!'
' Aurora,' repeated the hunchback, still on his knees.
The young girl hid her face in her hands. Large tears made
their way between her fingers, which trembled. Those who
looked at Donna Cruz from the half-opened door thought that
they witnessed a species of fascination. Donna Cruz was up-
right, her head thrown back, her mouth open, her eyes fixed.
' By Heaven!' cried Navailles,' it is marvellous!'
' Hush! hush! the other seems attracted by some in-
evitable power. The hunchback has some talisman, some
charm.'
Nivelle alone gave a name to the charm. This pretty
creature, immovable in her opinion, had a superstitious belief
in blue shares. What they said behind the door was true.
Aurora leant towards the voice that called her.
' I am dreaming!' she murmured; ' it is dreadful—I know
that he is dead.'
' Aurora,' repeated the voice, a third time, and as Donna
Cruz was about to speak, he, with an impatient gesture,
obliged her to be silent.
' Do not turn your head,' he said, very softly ; ' we are oh
the brink of a precipice; a movement, a word, and all is lost.'
2 g4 the duke's motto.
Donna Cruz was obliged to seat herself by Aurora; her
limbs trembled.
4 I would give twenty louis to know what he has said to
them,' said iNavailles.
4 In faith,' cried Oriol, 4 I begin to believe—and yet be
has given her nothing to drink.'
4 A hundred pistoles on the hunchback, even bets,'proposed
Noce.
The hunchback continued—'You do not dream, Aurora;
your heart did not deceive you ; it is I.'
4 You!' murmured the young girl; 41 dare not open my
ej'es. Flora, my sister, look.'
Donna Cruz kissed her forehead, to whisper to her nearer,
4 It is lie.'
Aurora half opened her fingers which shaded her eyes,
and gave one look. Her heart bounded in her bosom,
but she succeeded in stifling her first cry. She remained
motionless.
4 These men, who believe not in Heaven,' said the hunch-
back, after casting a glance towards the door,4 believe in hell;
they are easy to deceive, provided one feigns evil. Obey
not your heart, Aurora, my beloved, but some magical in-
iluence, which, according to their creed, is the work of a
demon; be, as it were, fascinated by this hand which mes-
merizes you.'
He made some passes before Aurora's face, who leant to-
wards him obedient^.
4 She yields,' cried INavailles, stupified.
4 She yields,'cried all the chorus; and Oriol, rushing up
to the balustrade out of breath, said—
4 You are losing the best part of the fun, prince; by Jove,
it is worth seeing.' Gonzagues let himself be led towards
the door.
4 Hush! hush ! don't let us disturb them,' said they all,
as the prince came up. They made room for him; he
remained struck with astonishment.
The hunchback continued his passes; Aurora, enchanted,
captivated, leant more and more towards him.
The hunchback was right. These men, who believed not
in God, put great faith in the trash that came from Italy;
philters, charms, and magic.
Gonzagues, Gonzagues the strong-minded, murmured,
4 That man possesses some witchcraft.'
Passcpoil, who was near him, crossed himself, and Cocar-
dasse muttered, 4 The rascal has some strange charm,
depend upon it.'
' Your hand,' whispered the hunchback to Aurora; 'slowly,
FASCINATION.
265
very slowly, as if some invisible power forced you to give it
to me against your will."
Aurora took lier hand from her face, and slowly moved it
towards him, as if she had been an automaton. If the people
in the gallery could have seen her adorable smile! What
they saw was her evident agitation, and her lovely head
thrown hack in the masses of her hair. They looked at the
hunchback with a sort of horror.
4 Capedebion!' cried Cocardasse,4 she gives him her hand,
the gipsy.'
Tho others repeated in amazement—'He makes her do
what he likes, the demon.'
4 In truth,' said Cocardasse, glancing at Passcpoil, 4 one
must see these things to believe them.'
4 When I see them,' rejoined Peyrolles, who was behind
Gonzagues, 41 don't believe theto.'
4 Oh!' protested every one, 4 one cannot deny the evidence
of one's own senses.'
Peyrolles shook his head with a vexed air.
'Let us neglect nothing,' said the hunchback, who, no
doubt, had his reasons for trusting Donna Cruz; 4 Gonzagues
and his evil genius are there now. We must deceive them
also; when your hand touches mine, Aurora, you must
shudder, and look round as if stupified. Good.'
41 have played that in the Beauty and the Beast, at the
Opera,' said Nivelle, who shrugged her shoulders. 41 was
more wonderstruck than she is. Was I not, Oriol?'
4 Oh! you were charming, as you always are,' said the
little stockbroker; 4 but what a shock the poor child had when
their hands met.'
4 A proof of antipathy and diabolical influence,' pronounced
Taranne, gravely.
The Baron de Batz, who was not an ignoramus, pro-
nounced 'demoniacal influence.'
'How,' said the hunchback, 'turn towards me, slowly!
slowly!'
He rose, and dominated her with a look. 4 Pise,' he con-
tinued, 'like an automaton; look at me ; make one step; let
yourself fall into my arms.'
Aurora obeyed. Donna Cruz remained as motionless as a
statue. There was behind the door, which was thrown open,
a thunder of applause. Aurora's lovely head reclined on the
bosom of iEsop, called Jonas.
4 Just five minutes !' cried Havailles, watch in hand.
'Has he changed the pretty little lady into a statue of
salt?' asked Noc6.
The crowd of spectators rushed into the room. The
266
tiie duke's motto.
hunchback laughed his dry, sharp laugh, and said to
Gonzagues—
' Prince, it is not more difficult than that.'
' Prince,' said Peyrolles,' this is really incomprehensible;
the fellow must be a clever juggler.'
' Are you afraid he should juggle your head off?' asked
Gonzagues ; then he added, turning to Jonas,' Bravo, friend,
will you give me your receipt?'
' It is to be sold, prince,' replied the hunchback.
' And it will hold out till the marriage !'
'Yes, till the marriage, not beyond.'
' How much do you ask for your talisman, hunchback ?'
cried Oriol.
'Not much; but to make use of it, one needs something
that is rather dear.'
' What is that ?' asked the stout little broker.
' Mind: will my little gentleman go to the market for it?'
Oriol dived into the crowd. They clapped heartily. Noce,
Choisy, and Navailles surrounded Donna Cruz, and ques-
tioned her eagerly.
' What did he say ? Did he speak Latin ? Had he a phial in
his hand ?'
' He spoke Hebrew,' answered the gitana, who was coming
to herself again.
' And this pretty girl understood him ?'
' Perfectly; he put his left hand into his pocket and took
out something which resembled, what shall I say?'
'A goat's horn? A magic mirror? A conjuring book?'
suggested they.
' Or rather a bundle of shares,' said Nivelle, in amendment.
* It looked like a pocket handkerchief,' said the gipsy,
turning her back.
* By Jove! you are a clever fellow, friend,' said Gonzagues,
putting his hand on his shoulder; ' I admire you.'
' Not so bad for a beginner, is it, prince P' said iEsop, with
a modest smile. ' But,' interrupted he, ' beg these gentle-
men to keep a little further off; you must not intimidate her.
I have had trouble enough. Where is the notary ?'
' Bring in the notary,' ordered Gonzagues.
CHAPTER XLIV.
the signing of the conteact.
The Princess Gonzagues had passed all the preceding day
in her room, but numerous visitors had broken in upon the
solitude to which Nevers' widow had condemned herself for
so many years.
THE SIGNING OF TIIE CONTRACT. 2GT
Iii the morning she had -written several letters. Tlie visi-
tors in liaste brought back tlieir own answers. It was then
that she received the Cardinal de Bissy, the Duke of Tresmes,
Governor of Paris, M. Machault, the President Lamoignon,
and Vice-Chancellor d'Argenson. Prom all she asked assis-
tance and defence against Lagarderq, that false man who had
carried off her daughter. To all she related her interview
with Lagardere, who, enraged at not obtaining the extrava-
gant reward that he had dreamed of, had taken refuge behind
impudent falsehoods. She was enraged against Lagard&re,
and, in truth, not without reason.
The wisest among the princess's counsellors were of opinion
that Lagardere's promise to bring forward Mademoiselle de
Nevers was a vile imposture; still it was best to be sure.
Notwithstanding the respect with which every one pre-
tended to surround the name of Gonzagues, it is certain that
yesterday's meeting had left in every mind an unpleasant im-
pression against him. There was in all this some wicked
mystery which troubled every one's brains. In such zeal
there is always a large alloy of curiosity. The Cardinal de
Bissy had at first scented out some prodigious scandal. The
scent communicated itself gradually to the rest, and as soon
as the track was discovered the chase was resolutely com-
menced. All these gentlemen swore that find it out they
would. They advised, firstly, the princess to go to the
Palais Boyal, to make the prince regent thoroughly ac-
quainted with the facts. They advised hep especially not to
accuse her husband.
She got into her sedan towards the middle of the day, and
went to the Palais Boyal, where she was immediately received.
The regent expected her. She had an unusually long audi-
ence. She did not accuse her husband. But the regent
questioned her, which he was not able to do during the tumult
of the ball. But the regent, in whom the remembrance of
Philip of Nevers, his best friend and brother, had been
violently awakened during the last two days, remembered
naturally the long course of years, and spoke of the sad event
at Caylus, which had always remained a mystery to him.
It was the first time that he thus talked Ute-a-Ute with
the widow of his friend. The princess did not accuse
her husband, but at the conclusion of the interview the
regent remained sad and pensive. Nevertheless, the regent,
who twice in that day received the Prince Gonzagues, had no
explanation with him. Por those who knew Philip of Orleans
this fact needs no commentary. Mistrust had arisen in the
regent's mind.
On her return from the Palais Boyal the princess found
2GS the duke's motto.
her retrea,t full of visitors. All the persons who had advised
her not to accuse the prince, asked what the regent had said
in respect to him.
Gonzagues, who had an instinctive feeling of an approach-
ing storm, had, nevertheless, not the slightest idea of all these
clouds which gathered themselves around his horizon, and
the story of this night related the next day might have been
so easily denied. They would have laughed at the story of
the poisoned flowers, it would have done in the time of Brin-
villiers ; they would have laughed at the tragic comic mar-
riage, and if any one had maintained that JEsop the Second
had the commission to murder his young wife, people would
have held their sides with laughing. Stories to dream over.
In this age they only murdered each other for their old split-
up pocket-books. The storm blew not from thence, the
storm came from the palace of Gonzagues. This long, sad
drama of eighteen years of wretched married life would at
last, perhaps, have an end. Something moved behind the
black draperies of the palace, where Nevers' widow had the
service for the dead repeated daily. In the midst of this
unexampled mourning a phantom was rising.
The present crime would not have been believed on account
even of the crowd of witnesses—all accomplices. But crime
past, however deeply it may have been buried, ends almost al-
■ways by breaking at last through its worm-eaten coffin. The
princess acquainted her illustrious visitors that the regent
had asked all the particulars of her marriage, and the circum-
stances that preceded it. She added that the regent had
promised to make Lagardere speak, even if it were necessary
to use torture. They threw themselves on Lagardere, with
the secret hope that light would come from him, for every one
knew, or at least suspected, that Lagardere had been mixed
up in that nocturnal scene which, eighteen years before, had
begun such a long long tragedy. M. de Machault promised
his alguazils, the Duke of Taranne his guards, the presidents
their agents. We know not what a cardinal can promise in
these circumstances; however, his eminence promised what he
could. It only remained for Lagardere to be on his guard.
Towards five o'clock Madeleine Girond went to her mis-
tress, who was alone, and gave her a note from the head of
the police. This note informed the princess that Lagardere
had been murdered the preceding night leaving the Palais
Itoyal. The letter ended with these words, which became
sacred, ' Do not accuse your husband.' The princess passed
the rest of the evening in tears and in prayer. Between nine
and ten Madeleine came back with another note. It was in
an unknown hand, and had been brought by two men, of for-
THE SIGNING OF THE CONTRACT. 269
bidding appearance, one tall and insolent, the other short and
insinuating. The note reminded the princess that the delay
accorded by the regent to Lagardere expired this night at four
o'clock. It informed the princess that Lagardere at that hour
would be in the pavilion of the Prince Gonzagues. Lagar-
dere with the prince! Why ? How ? And the letter from M.
Machault announcing his death.
The princess ordered her carriage, and went to the square
St. Antoine, to Lamoignon's house. An hour after, twenty
guards, commanded by a captain, bivouacked in the court of
Lamoignon's house.
We have not forgotten that the fete given by the Prince
Gonzagues in his pavilion behind St. Magloire had for pre-
text the marriage of Chaverny with a young unknown, to
whom the prince gave a wedding portion of fifty thousand
crowns. The marquis had accepted, and we know that Gon-
zagues thought he had good reasons not to fear the refusal of
the young lady. It was natural, then, that the prince should
have taken measures that nothing should retard the projected
union. A royal notary had been called in. Moreover, a
priest — a real priest — was waiting in the church St.
Magloire. It was no pretended marriage. It was a real
marriage that Gonzagues required—a marriage which would
give a husband power over the wife; so that the husband's
will might make the exile of the wife of indefinite length.
Gonzagues had said truth, he did not love blood ; only when
other means failed, blood never made Gonzagues draw back.
For an instant the events of this night had gone wrong. So
much the worse for Chaverny; but since the hunchback had
come forward, things bore a new and brighter appearance.
The hunchback was evidently one of those men of whom one
can ask anything. Gonzagues had seen through him at once:
lie was one of those beings who willingly pay back to humanity
the bitterness of their own misery, and who bear an ill-will to
men for the cross that God has, like a burden, placed upon
their shoulders. Most hunchbacks are vindictive and cruel,
thought Gonzagues; they avenge themselves. Hunchbacks
have often hard hearts and strong minds, because in this
world they are in an enemy's country. Hunchbacks have no
pity—they have not received any. Chaverny was useless for
the work required; Chaverny was only a fool. Wine made him
frank, generous, brave. Chaverny might have loved his wife,
and gone on his knees to her after having beaten her. Hot
bo the hunchback. The hunchback would only bite once; he
was positively a treasure. When Gonzagues called for the
notary, each one was zealous in tho cause. Oriol, Albret,
MontaUbert, rushed towards the gallery, outrunning Cocar-
270 the duke's motto.
dasse and Passepoil. The two latter found themselves for a
momeht utider the peristyle.
' Comrade! the night past and without rain,' said the Gascon.
* Blows !' interrupted Passepoil; ' the weathercock is veer-
ing. Truly my hand itches—and you ? Deuce! it is a long
time since I have danced, friend!'
Instead of entering the lower apartments, they opened the
outside door and descended into the garden. There was no
longer any trace of the ambush placed by Gonzagues' order
before the house to intercept Lagardere. Our two friends
pushed on to the shrubbery, where Peyrolles—the perverse
dog—had found the bodies of Saldagne and Faenza. No one
in the shrubbery! What seemed to them very strange was,
that the small door into the lane was wide open. No one in
the lane! Our two friends looked at each other.
' It cannot be that little rascal, the Parisian, who has done
that, for he has- been upstairs all the evening.'
' Can one tell what he is capable of?' rejoined Passepoil.
They heard a confused noise towards the church.
' Stay there,' said the Gascon; ' I will go and see.' He
scaled the wall of the garden, whilst Passepoil kept guard at
the door. At the end of the garden was the cemetery of St.
Magloire. Cocardasse saw that the cemetery was full of
soldiers.
'Well, comrade,' he said, returning, 'if we dance we shall
have music.'
During this time, Oriol and his companions rushed into
Gonzagues' room, where the royal notary slept peaceably on
a sofa, near a table containing the remains of an excellent
supper.
I know not why our age is bitter against notaries. They
are generally neat, fresh, well-fed, men of gentle manners,
fond of family jokes, and playing a good hand at whist.
They behave well at table, chivalric courtesy has taken
refuge among them. They are gallant to rich old ladies; and
certainly few Frenchmen bear with so much dignity the white
cravat, which agrees so well with golden spectacles. The
time approaches when a reaction will take place, and the
world will beforced to admit that a young notary, with light hair
and rosy cheeks, grave and soft in his manners, and who has
not yet acquired too much embonpoint, is one of the prettiest
flowers of our civilization. Master Griveau, notary royal of
the Chatelet, had the honour besides of being a devoted
servant of the Prince Gonzagues. He was a fine man, of
about forty, stout, fresh, smiling, and pleasant to look upon.
Oriol took him by one arm, Cidalise by the other, and both
dragged him up to the first floor. The sight of a notary always
xjijfi signing of the contract. 271
caused emotion in Mvelle; does he not rectify and render
valid gifts among the living P
Master Griveau, used to good society,, saluted the prince,
the ladies, and gentlemen with perfect politeness. He had
with him the minute of the contract, prepared Beforehand,
only the name of Chaverny was at the top. He must rectify
that. At the invitation of Peyrolles, Master Griveau sat
down at a little table, took from his pocket pen, ink, and pen-
knife, and set to work. Gonzagues and the principal guests
remained near the hunchback.
4 Will it take long?' said the latter, addressing the notary.
4 Master Griveau,' said the prince, laughing, 4 you under-
stand the natural impatience of fhese young people/
41 require five minutes, prince.'
iEsop the Second stroked his frill with one hand, and with
the other stroked Aurora's beautiful hair. Just the time to
fascinate a woman.
4 Let us drink,' said Gonzagues, 4 since we have leisure—
let us drink to the happy marriage !'
Fresh bottles of champagne were opened. This time merri-
ment seemed at last to be genuine. Uneasiness had vanished;
every one felt joyful. Donna Cruz herself filled Gonzagues'
glass. ' To their happiness!' she cried, touching his glass
gaily-
4To their happiness!' cried the circle, laughing, and
drinking.
4 By-the-by,' said iEsop, 4 is there not some clever poet
here to compose my epithalamium ?'
4 A poet—a poet!' cried all.
Master Griveau put his pen behind his ear. 4 One cannot
do everything at once,' he said, in a soft, discreet voice;4 when
I have finished the contract, I will compose two or three im-
promptu verses.'
The hunchback thanked him with a noble gesture.
'Poetry of the Chatelet!' said Navailles, 4 madrigals by a
notary. Deny now that this is the golden age.'
'Who seeks to deny it?' said Noce. 4 The fountains will
flow with milk of almonds and sparkling wine; thistles now
will bring forth roses !'
4 Since notaries make verses,' the hunchback nodded, and
said, with proud satisfaction, 4 what does not my wedding
bring forth ? But shall we continue thus ? For the bride
is in dishabille j and, in faith, I am ashamed of myself, my
hair is in disorder, my ruffles tumbled!'
4 The toilet of the bridegroom!—the toilet of the bride-
groom!' cried the ladies.
4 And the bride's too, by Jove! Did I not hear speak of a
corbeille ?'
272 THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
Nivelle and Cidalise were already in tlie adjoining room.
They soon appeared "basket in hand. Donna Cruz took the
direction of the bride's toilet. 'And quick,' she said; 'it is
late, and we want time to have a dance.' In a moment the
contents of the basket were displayed, as Donna Cruz and her
companions drew Aurora into the boudoir.
' If they should awake her, hunchback ?' said Navailles.
' Dear creature,' he said to Desbois, instead of answering,
' arrange my hair for me behind.' Then turning to Navailles,
he said, ' She belongs to me as much as yon belong to the
Prince Gonzagues, my good friends, or rather to your own
ambition. She belongs to me as much as dear Mr. Oriol be-
longs to his pride, pretty Nivelle to her avarice, and you all
to your favourite sin. My lovely Fleury, tie the bow of my
cravat.'
'Now,' said Master Griveau, 'it is ready to sign.'
' Have you written the names of the bride and bridegroom?'
' I don't know them!'
'Your name, friend?' asked the prince.
' Sign, if you please, prince,' said ./Esop the Second, in a
light tone. ' Sign also, gentlemen, for I hope you will all do
me that honour. I will write my name myself; it is a droll
name, and will make you laugh.'
'In truth, what can his name beP' said Navailles.
' Sign! sign, prince! I should like your ruffles for a wed-
ding present.'
Gonzagues took off his ruffles at once, and threw them to
him; then he approached the table to sign. The gentlemen
puzzled themselves to find a name for the hunchback.
' Don't try,' he said, putting on Gonzagues' ruffles; ' you
will'never guess. M. Navailles, you have a handsome hand-
kerchief!'
Navailles gave him his handkerchief. Each wished to add
something to his toilet—a pin, a buckle, a bow of ribbon. He
let them do it, and admired himself in his looking-glass. The
gentlemen all signed one after another; Gonzagues' signature
was at the top.
' Go and see if my wife is ready,' said the hunchback to
Choisy, who was fastening on a lace cravat.
' The bride! the bride!' they cried out.
Aurora appeared on the threshold, habited in the white
costume of a bride, and wearing in her hair the symbolical
orange blossoms. She was very beautiful, but her pale
features had that strange rigidity which made her resemble a
marble statue. She was still bewitched.
There was a long murmur of admiration at her appearance.
When the eyes of the party turned from her to the huncli-
THE SIGNING OF THE CONTRACT.
273
back, every one had a painful feeling. The hunchback
clapped his hands in transport.
'Well, I have a handsome wife. It is our turn now, my
charmer, to sign.'
He took her hand from Donna Cruz, who supported her.
They expected some sign of repugnance, but Aurora followed
with perfect docility. In turning to go to the table where
Master Griveau stood, the hunchback's eyes met those of
Cocardasse, who just entered with PassepoiL He made a
sign, and slightly touched his side.
Cocardasse comprehended, for he barred his'passage, saying
—'Capedebion! there is something wanting in the toilet.'
' What is it ? what is it?' resounded on all sides.
' What is it ?' said the hunchback, innocently.
'Truly,' rejoined the Gascon, ' did you ever see a gentle-
man married without a sword ?'
There was but one cry in the assembly.
' True, true; a sword for the hunchback. He is not suffi-
ciently droll as he is.'
Navailles with his eye measured the swords, whilst the
hunchback excused himself, saying—' I am not used to it; it
will restrain my movements.'
Among these dress-swords there was one long, strong
rapier. It belonged to good Master Peyrolles, who never
joked. Navailles, whether he would or not, unfastened
Peyrolles' sword.
' No need, no need!' repeated iEsop.
They girded on the sword in fun. Cocardasse and Passe-
poil remarked, in touching the handle, his hand clasped it
involuntarily. When it was girded on, the hunchback no
longer protested. It was finished with; but the weapon
seemed to increase his vanity. He began to strut about so
absurdly, that it excited universal merriment. They rushed
upon him to embrace him; they turned him round and round
like a doll. His success was complete—he let them do what
they liked. Having reached the table, he said—' Ha ! ha!
you tumble me. Don't squeeze my wife so much, I beg; and
give me time, my good friends, that we may sign the con-
tract.'
Master Griveau was still seated before the table. He
held the pen in readiness over the contract.
' Your name, if you please,—Christian name, titles, birth-
place.'
The hunchback gave a little push to the chair of the
notary. The latter turned round to look.
' Have you signed ?' said the hunchback.
' Certainly,' said the notary.
18
274 THE duke's motto.
' Then go in peace, my good man,' said the hunchback,
who pushed him aside. He gravely seated himself in the
notary's chair. All that the hunchback did now was a sub-
ject of merriment.
' Why the deuce! will he write his name himselfP' asked
Navailles.
Peyrolles talked low with G-onzagues, who shrugged his
shoulders. Peyrolles saw in all that passed a subject of
uneasiness; Gonzagues laughed at him, and called him
trembler.
' You will see,' said the hunchback, in answer to Navailles,
and added, with his little dry laugh—'You will be asto-
nished, you will see ; drink in the meanwhile.'
The advice was followed—the glasses were filled. The
hunchback began to fill up the blanks in a large text-hand.
' The devil take the sword,' he said, trying to place it in a
less uncomfortable position.
A fresh burst of laughter. The hunchback became more
and more embarrassed with his warlike accoutrement—the
long sword seemed to him an instrument of torture. ' He will
write,' said some. 'Pie will not write,' said others. The
hunchback, out of all patience, drew the sword from the
scabbard and laid it on the table beside him. Another
laugh. Cocardasse squeezed Passepoil's arm.
' Sandieu! the fiddle-string is ready,' he said.
' Let the fiddler take care,' answered Passepoil.
The hand of the clock almost touched four.
' Sign, if you please,' said the hunchback, holding out the
pen to Aurora.
She hesitated—he looked at her.
* Sign—your real name, since you know it.'
Aurora leant forward to sign. Donna Cruz, who leant
over her shoulder, made a movement of surprise.
' Is it done ? is it done ?' asked the others, who were
anxious to know.
' It is done—come and see; it will astonish you!'
Every one rushed forward. The hunchback had thrown
down the pen to take up the sword.
'Attention!' cried Cocardasse.
' Here !' answered Passepoil, resolutely.
Gonzagues and Peyrolles were the first in seeing the signa-
ture. They drew back suddenly.
' What is it P what is it ?' cried those behind.
The hunchback had promised to astonish them, and he had
kept his word. That moment they saw his distorted limbs
become straight, his back lengthen, and the sword grasped
in his hand.
THE SIGNING OP THE CONTRACT.
275
'Truly,' grumbled Cocardasse, 'the rascal played many
other games in Fountain-court when he was little.'
The hunchback, in drawing himself up, had thrown back
his hair. His body, straight, robust, elegant, supported a
handsome and noble head.
'Come and read the name,' he said, glancing at tjie
stupefied crowd with kindling eyes, whilst he pricked the
signature with the point of his sword.
All eyes followed this movement. An immense shouting
of one name filled the room.
' Lagardere ! Lagardere !'
' Lagardere,' he said, quietly, * who never misses a rendez-
vous once given.'
In the first moment of stupor, perhaps, he might have
escaped ; but he did not move. In one hand he held Aurora,
trembling, to his bosom; in the other he held his raised
sword. Cocardasse and Passepoil, who had drawn their
swords, stood in readiness behind him. Gonzagues drew in
his turn, and all his allies followed his example. In number
they were ten to one.
Donna Cruz wished to throw herself between the two
parties. Peyrolles seized her by the arm and carried her oil'.
'This man must not leave the room, gentlemen,' cried
Gonzagues, his lips pale and his teeth closed. ' Forward !'
Navailles, Noce, Choisy, Gironne, and the other gentle-
men charged impetuously. Lagardere had not even put the
table between him and his enemies. Without leaving go of
Aurora's hand, he covered her, and put himself in a posture
of defence. Cocardasse and Passepoil supported him right
and left.
'All right, my brave master, we have fasted this six
months; forward.'
' I am here! I am here!' cried Lagardere, making his first
thrust.
After a few seconds, Gonzagues' people drew back. Gi-
ronne and Albret had fallen, and lay in a pool of blood.
Lagardere and his two friends, unwounded, motionless as
statues, awaited the second assault.
' Prince Gonzagues,' said Lagardere, ' you wished to make
a parody of the marriage—the marriage is good; it has your'
own signature.'
' Forward!' cried the prince, who foamed with rage.
This time be advanced in front of his allies<
Four o'clock struck. A great noise was heard without,
and thundering blows resounded on the outer door, while a
voice cried, ' In the king's name!'
What a strange aspect had the room «-Td"h bore every-
18—2
27G the duke's motto.
where traces of the night's orgies. The table, was still strewn
with the remains of supper and half-empty bottles; glasses
here and there thrown over, mingled stains of wine with the
awful evidence of the combat. At the end, the closet, where
was lately the wedding basket, served now as a refuge to
[Master Griveau, more dead than alive. The group formed
by Lagardere, Aurora, and the two bravos, stood firm and
silent. In the middle of the room, Gonzagues and his allies,
stopped in their onset by the cry, 4 In the king's name!'
looked with terror towards the door. The women, overcome
with fright, hid themselves in corners. [Between the two
groups lay two bodies in a pool of blood.
Those who knocked at such an untimely hour at the
prince's door no doubt did not expect that it would be
opened at once. They were the guards from the Chatelet,
who had been posted first at Lamoignon's house, afterwards
in the cemetery of St. ATagloire. Measures had been taken
beforehand. After the third summons, the outer door was burst
open. In the room they could hear the soldiers' footsteps.
Gonzagues' blood ran cold. Had justice at last found him
out ? 4 Gentlemen,' he said, 4 there is no resisting the king's
orders.' [But he added, in a lower tone,4 we shall meet later.'
Baudon de Boisguiller, captain of the guard, appeared on
the threshold, and repeated—4 In the king's name !' Then he
saluted Gonzagues, coldly, and turned aside for the soldiers to
enter. A long file of them lined the room.
4 What is the meaning of this, sir ?' cried Gonzagues.
Boisguiller looked at the two men lying dead, then at the
group composed of Lagardere and his two supporters, who
all held their swords in their hands. 4 By all the saints,' he
murmured, 4 he was said to be a famous soldier. Prince,' he
added, turning to Gonzagues, 4 to-night I obey the orders of
the princess, your wife.'
41 hen it is my wife,' cried Gonzagues, furiously.
He stopped short, for the widow of He vers appeared on
the threshold. She was dressed in deep mourning.
At the sight of these women, of the characteristic pictures
which adorned the walls, of these mingled remains of de-
baucheryand of strife, the princess drewherveil over herface. 'I
do not come for you,' she said to her husband. Then advancing
towards Lagardere, 4 The twenty-four hours are passed,' she
continued ; 4 your judges are assembled—give up your sword.'
4 And this lady is my mother!' sobbed Aurora, covering her
face with her hands.
4 Gentlemen,' continued the princess, 'do your duty.'
Lagardere threw his sword at Boisguiller's feet.
Gonzagues and his party neither moved ndr spoke,
the regent's bedchamber. 277
When Boisguiller pointed Lagarddre to tlie door, the
latter advanced towards the Princess de Gonzagues, holding
still Aurora by the hand.
' Madam,' he said,' I was aboutto give my life for your child.'
' My child!' cried the princess, her voice trembling.
'He lies!' cried Gonzagues.
Lagardere did not protest. ' I asked for twenty-four hours
to bring to you Mademoiselle de Nevers,' he said, slowly, his
head proudly raised above soldiers and courtiers ; ' the last
hour has passed : here is Mademoiselle de Nevers.'
The cold hands of mother and daughter met. The princess
opened her arms. Aurora fell on her bosom weeping.
A tear came to Lagardbre's eyes. 'Protect her, madam,'
he said, with a violent effort conquering his agony. ' Love
her; she has only you.'
Aurora snatched herself from her mother's arms to run
towards him.
He repulsed her gently. ' Farewell, Aurora,' he said ;
'our betrothal will have no morrow. Keep the contract
which makes you my wife before man, as you Avere
yesterday before God. The princess will forgive you this
unworthy marriage with the dead.' He again kissed, for the
last time, Aurora's hand, bowed to the princess, and, turning
to the soldiers, said,' Take me before my judges.'
CHAPTEE XLY.
the regent's bedchamber.
It was about eight in the morning. The Marquis de Cosse,
the Duke of Brissac, the poet Lafare, and three ladies, among
whom Le Breant thought he could recognise the Duchess de
Berri, had just left the little entrance which we have several
times mentioned.
The regent was in his bedroom with the Abbe Dubois; and
in presence of the future cardinal, made preparations to go to
bed. There had been a supper at the Palais Eoyal, as well as
at Gonzagues' pavilion; it was the fashion. But the supper
at the Palais Eoyal ended more gaily.
In our days, very meritorious writers have, under various
pretexts, endeavoured to give a different colouring to the
memory of the good abbe, because, as they say, the pope
made him a cardinal; but the pope could not always choose
his cardinals. Also, in the second place, because the eloquent
and virtuous Massillon was his friend. This reason would be
stronger if it could be proved that virtuous men never were
infatuated by scamps. Besides, if the Abbe Dubois was
really a little saint, he must deserve a high place in the next
278
THE DUKES MOTTO.
world, for in tliis never was a man the martyr of so many
calumnies.
The prince was sleepy with wine; and this morning, while
his valet undressed him, and Dubois, half intoxicated (at least
in appearance), praised English manners to the skies, he slept
standing. The regent loved the English much, but he was
too sleepy to listen, and hastened his valet. ' Go to bed,
friend Dubois,' he said, ' and don't din my ears.'
'1 will go to bed presently,' replied the abbe; ' but do you
see the difference there is "between your Mississippi and the
Ganges?—between your small squadron and their fleet?—
between the huts of your Louisiana and the palaces of their
Bengal? Do you know that your part of India is a fable,
and that theirs is the true country of the thousand and one
nights; the country of inexhaustible treasures—a land of
perfume—a sea of pearls—mountains producing diamonds?'
'You have taken too much wine, Dubois, my venerated
preceptor.'
'Your highness has drunk wine,' answered the abbe,
laughing. ' I have only one word more to say—Study England;
draw closer the ties.'
'By Jove!' cried the prince, 'you have done all, and more
than was needed, to have gained the pension of which Lord
Stair so faithfully pays you the arrears beforehand. Abbe,
go to bed.'
Dubois took his hat, grumbling, and went to the door.
The door opened as he was going out, and a valet announced
the superintendent of police.
'At noon, M. Machault,' said the regent, vexed. 'These
people think nothing of my health; they will kill me.'
'M. Machault,' insisted the valet, 'has important com-
munications.'
'I know them,'answered the regent. 'He wants to tell
me that Cellamare intrigues; that the King of Poland is not
merry; that Alberoni wishes to be pope; and the Duchess
of Maine regent. At noon, or rather one o'clock. I am ill-
disposed.'
The valet wpnt out.
Dubois returned to the middle of the room. ' Whilst you
have the support of England, all these little vile intrigues—'
'Get away! move! be off!' cried the regent.
Dubois was not scandalized. He again approached the
door, and again the door opened.
' The secretary of state, Le Blanc,' announced the valet.
'To the devil!' cried his royal highness, stepping into bed.
The valet half closed the door; but added, putting his
mouth to the opening, 'The secretary of state has im-
portant communications.'
THE REGENT'S BEDCHAMBER.
279
' They all have important communications,' said the regent,
laying his head on his laced pillow: ' it amuses them to feign
a great fear of Alberoni and of Maine. They think to make
themselves necessary; they only make themselves trouble-
some, that is all. At one o'clock, M. le Blanc, with M.
Machault, or rather at two. I feel I shall sleep till then.'
The valet went out.
Philip d'Orleans shut his eyes. ' Is the abbe still here ?'
' I am going, I am going,' said the abbe, quickly.
'No; come here, you will send me to sleep. Is it not
strange that I cannot get an hour for repose ? They come
the very moment I am going to bed. I am dying with
fatigue, but that is nothing to them.'
' Would your royal highness like me to read ?'
'No; on reflection, you may go. Excuse me politely to
these gentlemen. I have passed the night at work—you un-
derstand—and I have always the headache writing by lamp-
light.' He gave, then, a heavy sigh, and continued—' All
this positively kills me. And the king will call for me at his
levee; and Fleury will pinch his lips, and look as prim as an
old countess. But with the best will in the world one cannot
do all; by Jove, it is not an idle office to govern France.'
His head made a -deeper hole in the pillow, and his deep
breathing soon proved him to be asleep.
The abbe exchanged a look with the valet; they both
began to laugh. When the regent was in a good humour he
called Dubois knave.
There was a great deal of the footman in the budding
Excellency.
Dubois went out. Machault and Le Blanc were in the
ante-room. ' About three his highness will receive you. His
highness has supped late, and is tired.'
Dubois' entrance had interrupted the conversation of
M. Machault and the secretary of state.
' That impudent rascal,' said the superintendent of police,
as soon as the abbe had left, ' does not even throw a veil over
his master's weaknesses.'
' His highness likes such people. But do you know the
truth about that affair at the Prince Gonzagues' pavilion?'
'Ionly know what my men brought me word: two men
killed, the cadet Gironne and the commissioner Albret; three
men taken: the late guardsman Lagardere, and the two cut-
throats, whose names are of no consequence. The princess
entering forcibly, and in the king's name, into her husband's
house; two young girls—but this is a secret, a riddle, that
would need the penetration of a sphinx.'
' One of these young ladies is certainly the heiress of Nevers.'
280 THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
4No one knows: one is brought forward by the Prince
Gonzagues, the other by Lagarddre.'
4 Does the regent know of these events ?'
4 You have just heard the abbe : the regent retired at eight
in the morning.'
4 When the matter comes to his knowledge, the Prince
Gonzagues must take care of himself.'
The superintendent of police shrugged his shoulders.
4 It must be one thing or the other—the Prince Gonzagues
must have kept his favour, or he must have lost it.'
4 Nevertheless, his highness showed himself without pity
in the affair of Le Horn.'
4 It concerned the credit of the bank: the street Quincam-
poix needed an example.'
'Then we have equally high interests at stake; Nevers'
widow!'
4 Doubtless, but Gonzagues has been the regent's friend for
fiye-and-twenty years.'
4 The council of the Inquisition has been summoned for to-
night.'
4 For Lagardere, and at the instance of the Princess Gon-
zagues.'
4 You think his royal highness is determined to cover the
prince ?'
41 am decided,' interrupted peremptorily M. Machault,
4 not to think anything until I know whether Gonzagues has
lost favour or not.'
As he finished, the door of the anteroom opened and the
Princo Gonzagues entered alone and without attendance.
Ceremonious greetings passed between the three gentlemen.
4 Is not his royal highness visible yet ?'
4 We have just been refused admittance,' answered Le
Blanc and Machault.
'Then,' said Gonzagues, hastily, 41 am sure no one is
admitted.'
'Brdon !' cried the superintendent of the police. A servant
approached. 4 Go,' saiu Machault, 4 and announce to his
royal highness that Prince Gonzagues is here.'
Gonzagues looked at the superintendent with suspicion,
which did not escape the two ministers.
4 Are there especial orders about me?' asked the prince.
There was evident uneasiness in the question. The sccre-
tary and superintendent both bowed, smiling.
4 It is quite natural,' answered Machault, 4 that his royal
highness, whose door is closed to his ministers, may only find
pleasure and relief in the society ofliis best friend.'
Breon returned, and said in a loud voice—4 His royal high-
ness will see the Prince Gonzasrues.' ■
THE REGENT'S BEDCHAMBER.
281
Equal surprise, though arising from different motives, ap-
peared in the faces of the three geiltlemen. Gonzagues was
affected ; he saluted the two gentlemen in silence, and followed
Breon,
'His royal highness will always be the same—pleasure
before business.'
'From the same fact,' answered Machault, with a smile,
'different inferences may be drawn.'
'What one cannot deny is that the favour of the Prince
Gonzagues '
' Threatens a downfall,' interrupted Machault.
The secretary looked at him in astonishment.
' At least,' continued the superintendent, ' unless his favour
is at its zenith.'
'Pray explain yourself, sir. You have such subtle reason-
ings.'
' Yesterday,' answered Machault, simply, ' the regent and
the Prince Gonzagues were good friends, still he waited an
hour with us in the ante-room.'
'And you conclude?'
'Heaven keep me from conclusions! Only during the
regency the Inquisition has as yet done nothing but upon
paper; it has laid aside its sword to take up the slate and
pencil. But now it has this Lagardere thrown to it to feed
upon. It is the first step. Farewell for the present; we shall
meet again. I shall return about three.'
In the passage which separated the ante-room from the
regent's chamber Gonzagues had but a moment for reflection.
The meeting with Le Blanc and Machault had greatly modified
his plan of conduct. These gentlemen had said nothing, still
Gonzagues was well aware that a storm threatened his horizon.
Perhaps he feared something worse.
The regent held out his hand. Gonzagues, instead of
carrying it to his lips as some of the courtiers did, pressed it
in both his, and sat down at the foot of the bed. The regent
had still his head on the pillow, and his eyes half closed, yet
Gonzagues felt that he was observed with attention.
' Well, Philip,' said the regent, in affected good nature,
'thisis the way everything is discovered.'
Gonzagues was shaken, but he concealed his feelings.
' You were unhappy, and you did not tell me; that, at
least, was a want of confidence.'
' It was want of courage, prince,' pronounced Gonzagues, in
a low voice.
' I understand; one does not like to disclose family wounds.
The princess is—one may say it—heart-sore '
' Your highness must know,' interrupted Gonzagues, 'the
immense power of calumny,'
282
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
The regent raised himself on his elbow and looked earnestly
at his oldest friend. A cloud passed over his forehead, already
covered by precocious wrinkles.
* Calumny,' he replied, ' has poisoned my happiness, touched
my honour and my family affections, everything that is dear
to man; but I know pot, Philip, why you should remind me
of what my friends try to make me forget.'
' Prince, I entreat your highness's forgiveness! Suffering
makes one selfish. I thought of myself, not of your royal
highness.'
' I forgive you, Philip, on condition that you tell me your
cause of suffering.'
Gonzagues shook his head, and said, so low that the regent
could scarcely hear him—
'You and I, prince, are accustomed to ridicule certain
sentiments. I have no right to complain, but there are some
feelings '
'Well—well! Philip,' interrupted the regent; 'you are
in love with your wife; she is a beautiful and noble woman.
"We make fun of that sometimes when we are in our cups.
We also deride the Almighty '
'We are wrong, prince! Heaven avenges itself!' interrupted
Gonzagues.
' IIow you take it! Have you anything to tell me ?'
' Many things, your highness. Two murders have been
committed this night in my pavilion.'
' The Chevalier de Lagardere, I wager!' cried Philip of
Orleans, raising himself on his pillow, 'you have done wrong
if you have done that, Philip! You have confirmed suspi-
cions!'
He was 110 longer sleepy. His brows were bent whilst he
looked at Gonzagues.
The latter raised his head proudly, then added in a thrilling
voice—' You, prince, have, then, had suspicions against me?'
' Well—yes !' answered the regent, after a short silence; ' I
have had suspicions. Your presence removes them, for you
look like an honourable man. Try that your words may
dispel them entirely. I listen.'
' Will y our highness have the goodness to tell what sus-
picions ?'
' There are old ones—there are fresh ones.'
' The old ones, if your highness pleases.'
'Hevers' widow was rich—you were poor. Hevers was
our brother.'
' And I ought not to have married jNTevers' widow ?'
The regent laid his head on his hand and did not answer.
' Prince!' replied Gonzagues, who bent his eyes on the
THE REGENT'S BEDCHAMBER.
283
ground; 'I have told you we have joked too much. These
feelings of the heart sound strangely from us !'
' What do you mean ? Explain.'
'I mean to say, that if one action of my life does me
honour, it is that one. Our dearly loved JSTevers died in my
arms, you know, as I have told you. You know also that I
was at the Castle of Caylus to endeavour to soften the blind
obstinacy of the old marquis, exasperated against Philip for
having taken his daughter. The chamber of the Inquisition,
of which I will speak to you later, has already taken my
evidence.'
'Ah! tell me,' said the regent, ' what sentence the judges
have given. This Lagardere, then, was not killed at your
house P'
'If your highness would have allowed me to have re-
lated '
' Go on! go on ! I seek for truth, but I warn you, nothing
but truth!'
* Gonzagues bowed coldly.
' Also I speak to your highness no longer as my friend, but
as my ju'dge. Lagardere was not killed at my house last
night; it is Lagardere who killed the commissioner Albret
and the cadet Gironne.'
' Ah!' said the regent; ' and how came Lagardere at your
house ?'
'I think that the princess could inform you,' answered
Gonzagues.
' Take care, that woman is a saint!'
' That woman detests her husband !' pronounced Gonzagues
with emphasis. ' I have no faith in the saints that your high-
ness canonises.'
He could make a point, for the regent smiled.
' Come—come ! my poor Philip,' said the regent; ' perhaps
I have been too harsh, but you know there is a scandal. You
are among the chief nobility. Scandals from so high shake
the throne ; I sit near enough to it to know that. But let us
return. You say that your marriage with Aurora de Caylus
was a good action—prove it.'
' Is it a good action to fulfil the last request of a dying man ?'
The regent gazed at him with his mouth wide open. A
long silence ensued.
' You dared not speak falsely on such a subject to me,' said
at last Philip of Orleans. ' I believe you.'
' Prince, you treat me in such a manner that this interview
will.be the last between us. Our family are not used to be
thus spoken to even by princes of the royal blood. Let me
confound the accusations raised against me, and I will say an
284 the duke's motto.
eternal farewell to the friend of my youth, who repulsed me
when I was unhappy. You helieve me—it is well; that is
enough.'
' Philip!' murmured the regent, whose voice betrayed his
agitation; ' prove your innocence, and on my honour you
shall see if I love you.'
' Then,' said Gonzagues,' I am accused ?'
As the Duke of Orleans kept silence, he said with a dignity
which he knew so well how to assume—
' Let your royal highness question me, and I will answer.'
The regent thought a moment, then he said—' You were
present at that fatal tragedy that was enacted in the trenches
at Caylus ?'
' Yes,' said Gonzagues; ' I defended my friend and yours
at the risk of my life—it was my duty.'
' It was your duty. And you received his last sigh ?'
' With his last words ; yes, your highness.'
' I wish to know what he said to you.'
' It was not my intention to hide it from your highness.
Our unhappy friend said,—I repeat his own words,—' Be the
husband of my wife, that you may be a father to my child.''
Gonzagues' voice did not tremble when he uttered this
impious falsehood.
The regent was lost in thought. On his intelligent and
pensive face the expression of fatigue remained, but all traces
of intoxication had vanished.
' You did well to fulfil the request of a dying man; but
why conceal this circumstance to my ears ?'
' I love my wife,' answered the prince; ' I have already
said so.'
' And wherefore should your love make you silent ?'
Gonzagues looked down, and contrived to blush.
' It would have been necessary to accuse my wife's father,'
he murmured.
'Ah!' cried the regent, ' then the assassin was the Marquis
of Caylus.'
Gonzagues bent his head, and sighed deeply. Philip of
Orleans fixed on him an earnest and piercing gaze.
' If the assassin was the Marquis of Caylus,' he asked,
' why do you accuse Lagardere ?'
' We in Italy accuse the assassin whose sword is bought to
perpetrate a murder.'
' The Marquis of Caylus had bought Lagardere's sword ?'
' Yes, your highness. But this subaltern position continued
but a day; Lagardere exchanged it for that active part which
he played on his own account, and persisted in for eighteen
years. Lagardere took away Aurora's child and the proof of
her birth '
THE PLEADING. 2 85
' What did you, then, pretend yesterday before the family
council ?' interrupted the regent.
'Prince!' replied Gonzagues, continuing to smile bitterly,
' I thank Heaven that it has permitted this ordeal. I thought
myself above such questions; this was my misfortune. One
can only fight with the enemy who shows himself. The
enemy appears, the accusation is made ; so much the better.
You have forced rne to light the torch of truth in these dark
regions, which my love for my wife kept secret. Y'ou will
now force me to discover the good side of my life—the side
that was noble, Christian, humbly devoted. I have returned
good for evil, patiently, resolutely, and this for nearly twenty
years. I have worked day and night; I have risked my life ;
I have expended my fortune—a large fortune; I have silenced
the voice of my own ambition; 1 have given what remained
to me of strength and youth; I have given myblood——'
The regent made a gesture of impatience.
Gonzagues continued—' You think I praise myself—do you
not ? Listen, then, to my history, prince—you who were my
friend and brother, as you were friend and brother to He vers.
Listen to me impartially, conscientiously. I choose you for my
judge—not against the princess : Heaven keep me from that;
I have nothing to reproach her with ;—not between me and
Lagardere, for I hold myself too high to put myself in a ba-
lance with him;—but between us two, prince; the two sur-
vivors of the three Philips;—between you, Philip of
Orleans, regent of France, holding in your hand the royal
power of avenging the father, of protecting the child; and
me, Philip of Gonzagues, a simple gentleman, having for this
double and sacred mission nothing but my heart and my
sword. I take you for a witness, and when I shall have
finished, I will ask you, whether it is on you or on me that in
heaven Philip of Nevers looks down with a smile of ap-
probation ?'
CHAPTER XLVI.
THE PLEADING.
It was a bold stroke—a stroke well dealt, and it hit the
mark. The regent of France bent down his eyes to escape
the severe glance of Gonzagues. The latter, having entered
the lists in eloquence, had foreseen the effect of his words.
The recital that he was about to make was no improvisation.
' Dare you to say," answered the regent, ' that I have been
wanting in the duties of friendship?'
' No, your highness. Forced as I am to defend myself, I
28G the duke's motto.
only wished to compare my conduct with yours. We are
alone; your highness will not have to blush.5
Philip of Orleans has regained his composure.
'TVe have known each other long ; you presume upon it.
But take care.5
' "Will you avenge,5 asked Gonzagues, looking at him
steadily, ' the affection that I have shown for our brother
after his death ?' *
'If you have been wronged,5 answered the prince, 'you
shall have justice. Speak.5
The calmness of the regent made Gonzagues lo3e a fine
burst of eloquence ; he had expected more anger.
' To my friend Philip of Orleans, whom I loved, I should
yesterday have related my story in other words. On the
terms on which your royal highness and I are, it must be a
succinct and clear account. The first thing that I must
tell you is, that Lagarddre is not only a most dangerous
swordsman, a species of hero among bravos, but also an in-
telligent, cunning man, capable of following up an idea of
ambition for years, and never giving way before any obstacle
that opposes his design. I do not believe that he had at first
the design of marrying Nevers5 daughter. Eor that, when he
first passed the frontier, he must have waited fifteen or six-
teen years. His first plan, no doubt, was to be paid an enor-
mous ransom. He knew that Nevers and Caylus were rich.
I, who have followed him up without intermission since the
night of his crime, know all his actions. He had simply
counted on the possession of the child—the hope of a large for-
tune. He must have understood by the way I opposed him
that any disloyal transaction would be impossible. I passed
the frontier shortly after him, and I reached him in the little
town of Venasque in Navarre. Notwithstanding the supe-
riority of our numbers, he contrived to escape, and taking an
assumed name, he hid himself in the interior of Spain. I
will not detain you with the hostile meetings we had toge-
ther. His strength, his courage, his skill, has something
miraculous in it. Besides the wound that he gave me while
defending our unhappy friend—(Gonzagues took off his
glove, and showed the mark of Lagardere's sword)—besides
this wound, I bear in other places the mark of his hand.
There is not a swordsman that can come up to him. I had in
my pay quite an army, for it was my wish to take him alive,
and thus prove by him the identity of my young and dear
ward. My party was composed of the best swords in
Europe—the Captain Lorrain, Joel de Jugan, Staupitz, Pinto,
El Matador, Saldagne, Eaenza; they are all dead.5
The regent made a movement.
THE PLEADING.
287
' They are all dead,' repeated Gonzagues;4 dead by his hand.'
'You know,' murmured the regent, 4 that he also pretended
that he received the commission to protect Nevers' child, and
to avenge my unhappy friend.'
'I know, since I had said so, that he is an audacious
impostor, but I know before whom I speak. I hope the
Duke of Orleans, having calmly to judge between the two
assertions, will consider the title of each to credit.'
'I shall do so,' slowly answered the regent.
4 Years passed on, and remark that this Lagardere never
tried to send a letter or a message to the princess. Faenza,
who was a clever man, and whom I had sent to Spain to
watch the ravisher, returned and gave me a strange account,
to which I wish to draw your highness's especial attention.
Lagardere, who at Madrid was called Don Luiz, had bartered
his captive for a young girl whom some gipsy of Leon had
ceded to him for money. Lagardere was afraid of me; he
felt me on his track, and wished to ring the changes on me.
The. gipsy from that time was brought up in his house, while
the real heiress of Nevers, carried off by the gipsies, lived
with them in tents. I doubted; this was the cause of my
first visit to Madrid. I met the gipsies in the glens of
Mount Baledron, and learnt with certainty that Faenza had
not deceived me. I saw the young girl, whose remembrance
at that time was quite fresh. All measures were taken to
take possession of her, and bring her back to France. She
was quite delighted at the idea of again seeing her mother.
The night fixed for taking her away my people and myself
supped under the tent of the chief, in order not to give mis-
trust. "We had been betrayed: those rascals have strange
secrets. In the midst of supper, our sight failed us, and we
were overtaken with sleep. When we awoke the next
morning we were lying on the grass in the glen of Baladron 5
there were around us neither tents nor encampment; the
fires, half extinguished, were smouldering under the ashes;
all the gipsies had disappeared.'
In this account Gonzagues contrived always to come near
the truth; in this manner the date, the scene, and persons
were exactly indicated. Thus his falsehoods had a framework
of truth, so that if Lagardere or Aurora were questioned,
their evidence might in some way tally with his version.
Both Lagardere and Aurora were in his account impostors,
therefore they had an interest in altering facts. The regent
listened still, attentive, and cold.
4 It was a fine opportunity lost, your highness,' continued
Gonzagues, in that accent of sincerity which made him so
eloquent. 4 Had we succeeded, what tears should we have
288 THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
prevented in the past, what misery in the present time! I
speak not of the future, which belongs to Heaven. I re-
turned to Madrid; no trace of the gipsies. Lagardere had
set off for a journey; the gipsy child that he had taken in the
place of Mademoiselle de ISIevers was brought up in the con-
vent of the Incarnation. Prince, it is your will not to show
the impression my recital makes on you. You are suspicious
of the fluency of words that you used to like. I try to be
simple and brief. Nevertheless, I must interrupt myself to
tell you that your suspicions, your precautions, will have no
effect. Truth is stronger than all. Prom the moment that
you consented to listen to me the cause is decided. I have
amply, superabundantly enough to convince you. Before
continuing the series of facts, I must make one observation
that has its importance. At the beginning Lagardere made
this change of children to deceive my prosecution. That is
evident. He had the intention of reclaiming Nevers' child at
a given time, to make use of her in the way best suited to his
ambition. But his intentions changed. He became in love
with the gipsy girl, from which time the true daughter of
Nevers was contemned. He no longer thought of getting a
ransom: the bold adventurer had the dream of placing his
mistress on the ducal chair, and then becoming the husband
of Nevers' heiress.'
The regent moved under his covering, and his face ex-
pressed uneasiness.
The plausibility of a fact varies according to the manner
and character of the listener. Philip of Orleans had not
put much faith in the romantic devotion of Gonzagucs, in
his Herculean labours to fulfil the wishes of a dying man;
but this contrivance of Lagardere struck hini and dazzled him.
The regent's habit of life and his own nature revolted from
any tragic idea, but he entered quite naturally into the
comedy of intrigue. He was so much struck with this, that
he did not perceive the address with which Gonzagues had
thrown out this beginning of an hypothetical argument; so
much struck as not to perceive that the changing the two
children belonged to the romantic—facts which he would not
willingly admit. The history was at once coloured with a shade
of probability. This dream of the adventurer Lagardere
was so logically marked by the situation, that it threw a
gleam of probability over the rest.
Gonzagues remarked at once the effect produced. He was
too clever to avail himself of it at once. Por the last half
hour he felt convinced that the regent was well acquainted
with all that had taken place during the last two dajm. He
had turned his batteries in consequence. Philip of Orleans
THE PLEADING. 280
was reported to keep a police tliat was not under the superin-
tendence of M. Mackault, and G-onzagues often had the idea
that even in the centre of his allies one or more spies were
to be found.
G-onzagues staked for the worst. He played his game as if
the regent had seen all his cards—4 Your highness may
be sure that I do not attach any undue importance to
this detail. Being given, Lagardere with his talents and
audacity could effect anything. I had proof before La-
gardere's arrival in Paris, but fresh proofs render the old
ones useless. The Princess Gonzagues, who is not suspected
of aiding me often, will fully inform your highness on this
subject. But let us return to facts. Lagardere was absent
four years; at the end of that time the gipsy child, educated
by the Ladies of the Incarnation, was not recognisable.
Lagardere, on seeing her, must have conceived the design
we have spoken of. Events changed ; the pretended Aurora
de Nevers had a house, a housekeeper, and a page, that ap-
pearances might be kept up. The most curious thing is, that
the true daughter of Nevers and her representative knew and
loved each other. I cannot think that the mistress of Lagar-
d^re was not in the deception, still it might be so. He was
sufficiently cunning to leave the heart of this beautiful girl
uncontaminated. What is certain is, that he objected to re-
ceive the real daughter of Nevers at his house at Madrid, and
forbid his mistress to receive her, because her conduct was
not steady enough.'
Here Gonzagues laughed bitterly.
4 The princess,' he continued, 4 said yesterday in the family
council, 44 If my daughter has forgotten for a moment the
dignity of her rank, I will veil my face and say, Nevers is
indeed dead." These are her own words. Alas ! prince, the
poor child thought I was joking her the first time I spoke
of her family, but you will be of my mind, and if not, the
law will prove that you are wrong. A mother has no right
to murder her child's prospects through false delicacy. Hid
Aurora de Nevers wish to be born at variance with paternal
authority. The mother's was the first fault. The mother may
weep over the past; the child has the right, and Nevers dead,
has still one representative left. I wish I could say two.
Your aspect has changed, prince; allow me to say that your
hard heart again speaks in your face. May I entreat you to
tell me what voice of calumny has been able to make you
forget thirty years of faithful friendship.'
4 Prince,' said the duke, in a voice which he tried to make
severe, but which betrayed doubt and emotion, 41 can only
19
290 the duke's motto.
repeat your own words. Justify yourself, and you sliall see
whether I am your friend.'
'Butof what do they accuse me?' said Gonzagues, feigning
sudden indignation. ' Is it a crime of twenty years ago? Is
it a crime of yesterday ? Has Philip of Orleans thought an
hour, a minute, a second ? I will know it. Have you be-
lieved, prince, that this sword '
' If I had believed it ' murmured the Duke of Orleans,
whose brows were knit, and the blood mounted to his cheeks.
Gonzagues seized his hand, and forcibly pressed it against
his heart. 'Thanks!' he said, with tears in his eyes; 'do
you hear, Philip, I am induced to thank you that your voice
lias not joined others in accusing me of infamy.'
He drew himself up as if ashamed of his emotion—' Pardon
me, prince,' he continued, forcing a smile; ' I shall not forget
myself again. I know what accusations are brought against
me; at least, I guess them. My contest with Lagardkre has
driven me on to commit acts that the law condemns. More-
over, the presence of Mademoiselle de Nevers in a house
consecrated to pleasure! I will not anticipate what I have
further to tell you, will not fatigue your highness's attention
much. You may remember that you received with surprise
the request I made to be sent ambassador to Spain. Until
then I had carefully kept myself aloof from public business.
I wished to return to Spain with some official appointment
that would put the Spanish police at my disposal. In a few
days I discovered the abode of the dear child, who is now
all the hope of a noble family. Yfhat was to be done with
her. Aurora de Nevers gained her living in the public
streets. My design was to seize both young girls and the
impostor. But the impostor and his mistress esoaped me,
and I brought back Nevers' daughter.'
' That—that you pretend to be JNTevers' daughter?'
' Yes, prince, her who I pretend is Nevers' daughter.'
' That is not enough.'
' Permit me to think the contrary, since the result has
proved me right. I have not acted without due considera*
tion. For eighteen years I have worked. What was neces-
sary, the presence of the two young girls and the impostor.
We have it; they are all in Paris.'
'Notthrough you,' interrupted the regent.
'Yes, through me; entirely through me. At what time
did your royal highness receive Lagarderc's first letter ?'
' Hid I tell you ?' began the duke, haughtily.
' If your highness does not choose to answer me, I will
answer myself. Lagardere's first letter, dated from Brussels,
asking for a safe-conduct, reached Paris the last days in
THE PLEADING. 291
August, and nearly a month after Hevers' daughter had been
in my power. Do not treat me 'worse than an accused person,
and leave me at least the benefit of evidence. For eighteen
years Lagardere had remained without giving signs of life.
Do you not think that he must have had some motive for
seeking to return to France exactly at that time? and don't
you think that that motive might have been to carry off the
real daughter of N evers ? If we must point our case, could
Lagardere reason otherwise than thus: " If I let Gonzagues
instal in the palace of Lorraine the heiress of the late duke,
whither are fled all my hopes ? And what shall I do with
this beautiful girl, who yesterday was worth millions, and
who to-morrow will be only a gipsy, as poor or poorer than
myself?"'
' One might turn the argument,' objected the regent.
' One might say, might one not,' said Gonzagues, ' that La-
gardere, seeing that I wished to present a false heiress, wished
to bring forward the true one ?'
The regent bent his head in acquiescence.
'Well, prince,' continued Gonzagues, 'it does not the less
prove that Lagardere's return was my work. I ask nothing
more. This is what I said to myself, " Lagardere will follow
me at all costs; he will fall into the hands of justice, and the
truth will come out." It is not I, prince, who gave Lagardere
the means to return to France, and to brave justice.'
' Did you know that Lagardere was in Paris when you so-
licited me to convoke a family council ?'
'Yes, prince,' said Gonzagues, without hesitation.
' Why not have told me ?'
' In moral justice and before Heaven,' answered Gonzagues,
' I have done no wrong, In law and towards you, if it please
you to represent the law, my hope is less. With a letter that
killed, an iniquitous judge might condemn me. I ought to have
asked your counsel and your aid in these matters, it is evident;
but to you must I justify certain repugnance. I thought to
end the unlucky difference that has always existed between
the princess and myself. I thought to conquer by benefits
the violent repugnance that has no real motive. I swear by
my honour, I hoped to make peace before a living soul sus-
pected the war. There is a strong motive, and surely, prince,
you who know better than any one the delicacy of soul and
deep sensibility that is covered by your pretended scepticism,
will allow such a reason to have weight with you. But there
was another motive—a foolish one, perhaps, if anything which
can belong to the pride of a duty fulfilled can be foolish; I
had begun alone this great, this sacred undertaking; alone
I had carried it on during nearly the half of my life. At the
292 the duke's motto.
hour of triumph, I hesitated to let any one, even, yourself,
come in for half the victory. At the family council, the atti-
tudeof the Princess Gonzagues. made me understand that she
had been warned. Lagardere did not await my attack; he
fired first. Prince, I am not ashamed to own it—craft is not
my strong point. Lagardere has been more cunning than I.
Perhaps it was the grossness of the deception that caused its
complete success. Lagardere concealed his presence among
us under a false disguise. One must own that the old habit
he had of mimicry,' added Gonzagues, proudly, 'gave him ad-
vantages that every one cannot possess.'
'I don't know what profession he was of,' said the
regent.
' That of mountebank before that of assassin. Here, under
your windows, in Fountain Court, don't you remember an un-
fortunate child, who gained his livelihood by distorting him-
self, and who notoriously imitated a hunchback.'
'Lagardesre,' murmured the prince, in whom a remembrance
awoke; ' it was in the time of the Dauphin. We looked at him
out of the window—Little Lagardere.'
' Would to heaven this remembrance had come to you two
days sooner ! I continue. As soon as I suspected his arrival
in Paris, I took up my plan where I laid it down. I tried to
get the two impostors and the important papers into my hands,
which Lagardere had carried off from the castle of Caylus.
Notwithstanding his cunning, Lagardere or the hunchback
could not prevent my executing a good part of my plan. I
put my hand on the girl and on the papers.'
' Where is the girl P' asked the regent.
' With the poor deceived mother—with the Princess Gon-
zagues.'
'And the papers? I warn you that it is here lies your
greatest danger, Prince Gonzagues.'
'And why danger, your highness?' asked Gonzagues, smiling
proudly. ' For myself, I cannot conceive that one can be for
a quarter of a century the companion, friend, brother of a
man of whom one can entertain such a bad opinion. Don't
you think that I have already falsified the title ? The enve-
lope sealed with three seals unbroken, all of them will answer
for my doubtful honour. The titles are in my hands, and I
am ready to place them in your highness's keeping, if you
will give me a receipt for them.'
' This evening we will claim them,' said the Duke of Orleans.
' This evening I. shall be ready as I am now/ But permit
me to end my story. After the capture that I had made, La-
gardere was conquered. This accursed disguise completely
changed the posture of affairs. It was I myself who intro-
THE PLEADING. 293
duced tlie enemy into my own house. I love the odd, the ab-
surd, you know, and in this respect, it is rather your highness's
taste that has formed mine, in the time when we were friends.
This hunchback took my dog's niche at an absurd price ; this
hunchback appeared to me a fantastical being. In fact, I was
taken in ; why deny it P This Lagardere is the king of jug-
glers. Once in the sheepfold, the wolf showed his teeth. -I
could see nothing, and it was one of my faithful servants, good
master Peyrolles, who secretly informed the princess.'
' Can you prove this P' asked the regent.
' Easily, by the testimony of Peyrolles himself. Put the
soldiers and the princess arrived too late for my two poor
friends, Albret and Gironne; the wolf had bitten.'
'Was Lagardere alone against you all?'
' They were four, prince, counting the Marquis of Chaverny,
my cousin.'
'Chaverny!' repeated the regent, astonished.
Gonzagues replied hypocritically. ' He had met at Madrid,
during my ambassadorship, Lagardere's mistress. I ought
to tell your highness that to-day I have asked and obtained a
lettre de cachet from d'Argenson against Chaverny and the
two others. The two others were also made prisoners. They
were merely two bravos who had participated in the former
excesses and bad deeds of Lagardere.'
' There remains to be explained,' said the regent, ' the part
you yourself took this last night with your friends ?'
Gonzagues raised to the duke a look of astonishment,
admirably played. He did not answer directly; then he
said, ' What I was told, then, has some foundation ?'
' I know not what you have been told. Stories to sleep
upon, prince—accusations very absurd. But does it fit the
wisdom of your highness, or my own dignity '
'I take little store of my deep wisdom, prince, so we will
lay it aside for a moment with your dignity. I beg you to
speak.'
' That is a command; I obey it. Whilst last night I was with
your highness, it seems debauchery reached at my house an ex-
travagant height. They had broken open the door of my private
apartment, where I had sheltered the two girls, in order to pro-
duce them both before the tribunal to-morrow and to the prin-
cess. I need not say who were the instigators of this insolence;
my drunken friends lent their hands to it. A Bacchanalian
combat took place between Chaverny and the pretended
hunchback; the prize of the tournament was to be the hand
of this young gipsy, whom Lagardere wished to palm on us
as Hevers' daughter. When I returned, I found Chaverny
asleep on the ground, and the triumphant hunchback with
294= the duke's motto.
his mistress. A marriage contract had been prepared; it
■was covered with signatures—among the rest my own,
forged.'
The regent looked at Gonzagues, and seemed to wish to
pierce his soul. The latter had just led a forlorn hope. In
entering the duke's chamber he had expected to be received
with coldness by his ancient protector and friend, but he had
not counted upon having to give this long and terrible expla-
nation. All these lies, cleverly put together; all this enormous
heap of deception, was, one might say, three parts impromptu.
Not only did he own himself the victim of his own heroism,
but, moreover, he affirmed beforehand the testimony that
Chaverny, Cocardasse, and Passepoil could bring against him.
The regent had loved this man as tenderly as he was capable
of loving; the regent had been on terms of intimacy with
him from his youth. This was not a favourable circumstance
for Gonzagues, for this long intimacy must have made the
regent acquainted with the consummate address of his
friend.
Perhaps it was so. Perhaps from another mouth the clear
and apparently precise answers of Gonzagues would have
carried conviction with them. The regent had within him-
self a strong feeling of justice, although history with just
cause reproached him with many crimes. Perhaps on this
occasion the regent returned to the natural nobility of his
character, so to speak, on account of the solemn and sad
remembrance which overshadowed these proceedings. It
concerned the definite punishment of the murderer of JNTevers,
whom the duke had loved like a brother. It concerned the
restoration of Nevers' daughter to rank, fortune, and family.
The regent was inclined to put faith in Gonzagues' words.
If he were inflexible, it was an excess of virtue on his part.
He wished that his conscience might never have a reproach
to make him on the subject of this contention. All his
thoughts were expressed in those words, pronounced at the
beginning of the interview, 'Justify yourself, and you will
see if I love you.'
Alas! for the enemies of Gonzagues, if he were proved
innocent!
' Philip,' he said, after a pause, and with gome hesitation,
' Heaven is my witness that I shall be happy to keep a friend.
Perhaps calumny has been bitter against you, because many
are envious of you.'
' I owe them to your highness's bounty,' murmured
Gonzagues.
' You are strong against calumny,' continued the regent,
' from your high position, and also from that great intelligence
THE PLEADING.
295
which I love in you. Answer, I beg you, one last question,
What is the meaning of that story about the Count Canozza ?'
Gonzagues put his hand upon the regent's arm. ' Prince,'
he said, in a serious, concise tone, * my cousin Canozza died
whilst I was travelling with your highness in Italy. Believe
me, pass not certain limits, beyond which infamy becomes
absurdity and merits only disdain, even when it passes the
lips of a powerful prince. Peyrolles told me this morning,
"They have sworn to ruin you." " They have so spoken to
his royal highness that all the old accusations brought against
Italy will be heaped on your head ; you will be a Borgia."
—Poisoned peaches, flowers into which had been instilled
the mortal aqua tofana. Prince,' said Gonzagues, interrupt-
ing himself, ' if you want a barrister to be able to absolve
me, condemn me, for disgust shuts my mouth. I resume,
and leave you to consider these three facts. Lagardere is in
the hands of justice; the two young girls are with the prin-
cess. I hold the pages torn from the registry of the chapel
of Caylus. You are at the head of the State. With these
elements the discovery of the truth becomes so easy that I
cannot help a feeling of pride in saying to myself,'"It is I
who have brought light out of darkness." '
' The truth shall be brought to light,' said the regent; ' I
will myself preside at the family council this evening.'
Gonzagues seized his two hands with warmth. ' I came to
ask you to do so,' he said, ' in the name of him to whom I
have devoted all my life. Now, I have to ask your pardon
for having, perhaps, spoken too proudly to the head of the
State; but whateve my punishment is decreed.
other to-night for the last time.'
The regent drew him towards him. ' Those old friendships
are strong. A prince does not demean himself by asking for
reparation of honour,' he said. ' The case being so, Philip, I
trust the answers of the regent will suffice you.'
Gonzagues shook his head slowly. 'There are wounds/
he said, with a trembling voice,' that no halm will cure.' He
raised his head, and looked at the clock. The interview had
lasted three hours. ' Your highness,' he said, firmly but
coldly, 'you will not sleep this morning. Your anteroom is
full. They are asking near us whether I shall leave here
with an increase of favour, or whether your guards will con-
duct me to the Bastile. It is the alternative that I myself
propose. I claim from your highness one of these two
favours at your choice—either a prison, where I shall be in
safety, or subh a special and public mark of friendship which
may give me back, if only for a day, my lost favour, I need it.'
Philip of Orleans
Gonzagues will see each
206
the dukes motto.
Philip of Orleans rang and desired the company to be ad-
mitted. In the moment the courtiers passed the threshold,
he drew Gonzagues to him and kissed his forehead, saying,
' Farewell till this evening, friend Philip.'
The courtiers stood aside and ma.de a hedge, bowing lo
the ground as the Prince Gonzagues passed them and retired.
CHAPTER XL VII.
three floors of dungeons.
The institution of the Inquisition goes back to the days of
Francis II., who had founded one in each parliament to de-
cide in cases of heresy. The sentences of these exceptional
tribunals were final, and executed within twenty-four hours.
The most celebrated of these inquisitions was the commis-
sion extraordinary given by Louis XIV. at the time of the
poisonings. Under the regency the name remained, but the
functions differed. Many sections of the parliament of Paris
received the name of the Inquisition, and transacted other
business at the same time.
The rage now was not for heresy or poisoning, the rage
was for money transactions. Under the regency, then, the
Inquisition was financial. Thus was it only a true course of
accounts which served to verify and test the accounts of the
treasurers. After Law's fall it even took the name of the
Chamber of Signature. This tribunal, which sat for the first
time in the trial of Longuefort, gave several celebrated sen-
tences, one amongst others on the Intendant Le Saulnois do
Sancerre, accused of having falsified the Great Seal.
In 1717 it was composed of five members and a president.
The members were Bertelot de la Beaumelle, Hardouin, Hac-
quelin-Desmaisons, Montespel de Graynac, and Husson-
Bordesson, auditor. The president was the Marquis of
Segre. It might be assembled by an order from the king,
from one day to the next, and eveD from hour to hour. Its
members ought not to quit Paris. The assembling of the
Inquisition had been convoked the previous day at the decree
of his Royal Highness the Duke ot Orleans. The summons
announced that the sitting of the chamber would begin at
four o'clock in the night. The act of impeachment would
inform the judges of the name of the accused.
At half-past four the Chevalier Henri de Lagardere ap-
peared before the chamber of the Inquisition at the CMtelet.
The impeachment charged him with carrying away a child,
TUUEE FLOORS OF DUNGEONS. 297
and also of a murder. "Witnesses were examined—the Prince
and Princess of Gonzagues. Their testimony was so contra-
dictory, that the assembly, accustomed to give sentence on
slight grounds, yet adjourned to one in the afternoon for
fuller information. Tlicy were going to lmvo three fresh
witnesses—Peyrolles, (Jocardasse, and Passcpoil.
The Prince Gonzagues saw one after the other the coun-
cillors and the president. A move which had been proposed
by the king's advocate that the young girl should appear, was
not carried out. Gonzagues had declared that the young
girl was under the influence of Lagardere. It was an aggra-
vating circumstance in the trial for abduction that it had
reference to the heiress of a duke and peer.
Everything was arranged to take Lagardere to the Pas-
tile, the place of night executions. The adjournment was
the reason of his being taken to a prison near the audience-
chamber, so that he might remain under the charge of his
judges. It was on the third story of the New Tower, thus
called because Jancourt had finished it at the end pf the
reign of Louis XIV. It was situated at the north-west of
the building, and its loopholes looked towards the quay.
It occupied half of the space of the ancient Magne Tower,
which had fallen in the year 1676. Prisoners were often
placed there before being taken to the Pas tile. It was a
light building of red brick, and its appearance contrasted
strangely with the gloomy dungeons which surrounded it.
On the second floor a drawbridge joined it to the old ram-
part. The dungeons, or rather cells, were neat, and, like
most of the houses for the middle class at that time, paved
with tiles. The detention there was only provisional, and
except the large fastenings nothing denoted the state prison.
In locking up Lagardere after the suspended hearing, the
gaoler told him that he was to be alone. Lagardere offered
him twenty or thirty pistoles that he had upon him for pen,
ink, and paper. The gaoler took the money and gave him
nothing in exchange, only promised to deposit it at the
registry. Lagardere shut in, remained for a moment still, as
if overwhelmed with his thoughts. There he was, a para-
lysed, powerless prisoner. His enemy had power, the avowed
favour of the regent, riches, liberty.
The midnight sitting had lasted nearly two hours and a
half. It had taken place at one, after the supper at Gonza-
gues' folly.
It was already daylight when Lagardere entered his cell.
Formerly he had more than once been on guard at the cha-
telet, before entering the King's Life Guards. He knew the
place well. Under his cell there must be two others. In
298 THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
one glance lie took in all his domain—a block, a jug, a loaf, a
bundle of hay. They had left him his spurs. He took off
one, and pricked his arm by the aid of the tongue of the
buckle: that gave him ink. A corner of a handkerchief
served him for paper; a bit of straw did the office of a pen.
"With such materials one writes slowly and awkwardly, still
one can write. In this manner Lagardere traced a few words;
then, still with the aid of his spur, he took up a tile from the
floor. He was' not mistaken; two cells were successively
below his. In the first the little Marquis of Chaverny, still
intoxicated, slept happily; in the second, Cocardasse and
Passepoil, lying on their straw philosophic bed, and said
many good things on the inconstancy of time and the vari-
ableness of fortune. They had nothing to eat but dry bread,
they who had supped last night with a prince. Cocardasse
still occasionally passed his tongue over his lips, in remem-
brance of the excellent wine he had drunk. As for Passepoil,
he had only to shut his eyes to see pass before him, as a
dream, the turned-up nose of Mademoiselle Nivelle, the
brilliant eyes of Donna Cruz, the beautiful hair of Fleury,
and the captivating smile of Cidalise. Had Passepoil known
of whom Mahomet's paradise was composed, he would have
forthwith abjured his father's faith, and turned Mussulman.
His passions would have taken him there; still he had his
good qualities. Chaverny dreamed, but in a different manner.
He lay extended on his straw, his dress in disorder, his hair
dishevelled. He turned about in his sleep.
'Another glass, hunchback; and don't cheat. You pre-
tend to drink, knave. I see the wine running down your
shirt-frill. By Jove!' he went on, 'had Oriol not enough,
with one stupid, puffed-out head P I see two, three, four,
five, seven, like the hydra of Lerna! Come, hunchback, let
them bring two cans quite full. I will drink the one, and
you the other, sponge that you are. But for goodness' sake
take away that woman who is sitting upon my chest: she
is heavy. Is she my wife ? I must be married.'
His looks betrayed a sudden annoyance.
'It is Donna Cruz—I recognise her well. Hide me—I
wont let Donna Cruz see me in this state. Take back your
fifty thousand crowns—I will marry Donna Cruz.'
And he fought. Sometimes the nightmare seized him by
the throat, sometimes he laughed like an idiot. He could not
hear the slight noise that was made over his head. Cannon
alone could have awakened him. The noise was pretty loud,
the ceiling thin. Shortly, pieces of mortar began to fall.
Chaverny felt them in his sleep. He struck himself two or
three blows on the face, as if to rid himself of a tiresome
insect,
THREE FLOORS OF DUNGEONS.
299
'Wliat horrid flies!' he said.
Presently, a larger piece of plaster fell on his cheek.
'Devil!' he cried—'cursed hunchback; do you dare to
throw crumbs to me! I have no objection to drink with you,
but you must not be too familiar.'
A black hole appeared in the ceiling, just above his head,
and a piece of plaster struck him on his forehead.
'Are we kitchen-boys, to throw stones at each other!' cried
he, angrily. 'Hollo! Navailles, take the hunchback by the
feet, and let us throw him in a pond.'
The hole became larger. A voice, as if from the skies,
said,' Whoever you are, be so good as to answer a companion
in misery. Are you au secret ] Does no one come to visit
you?'
Chaverny still slept, but? his sleep was less deep. Half a
dozen more pieces of plaster on his face, and he would awake.
He heard the voice. ' By Jove!' he said, ' she is not a girl
who can love lightly. She was not an accomplice in that
comedy at Gonzagues', and at the pavilioh my knave of a
cousin made her believe that she was with noble ladies.' He
answered in a grave and important voice, ' I will answer for
her virtue: she will be the most delicious marchioness in the
world.'
' Ho, there!' cried Lagardere, ' did you hear me ?'
Chaverny snored a little, tired of talking in his sleep.
' There is some one,' cried the voice above;' I see something
moving.'
A kind of parcel was passed through the hole, and fell on
Chaverny's left cheek, who at one bound jumped up and put
his hand on his face.
'Wretch!' he cried; 'a blow on the face—and to me.'
Then the phantom, which no doubt he saw, disappeared.
Stupified, he looked round the cell. ' Ah,' said he, ' then I
cannot awake—I am in a dream.'
The voice from above said: ' Have you received the
parcel ?'
'Well,' cried Chaverny, rubbing his eyes, 'the hunchback
must be hidden here somewhere. But what a strange-looking
room.' He looked up, and cried with all his might: 'I see
your hole, accursed hunchback. I will be even with you.
Go and tell them to open the door.'
'I don't hear you,' said the voice; 'but I perceive and re-
cognise you. You are the Marquis de Chaverny. Although
you have passed your life in bad company, still you are a man
of honour. I know it. That is the reason I prevented your
being murdered last night.'
The little marquis looked astonished,
300
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
'Nevertheless,' he said, 'it is not quite the hunchback's
voice. And who dares use to me this protecting air ?'
' I am Lagarddre,' said the voice at this moment.
'Ah,' cried Chaverny, ' that'fellow has as many lives as
a cat.'
' Do you know where you are?' asked the voice.
Chaverny gave an emphatic negative with his head.
' You are in the Chatelet prison, second story of the New
Tower.'
Chaverny then rushed towards the loophole which dimly
lighted his room, and his arms fell.
The voice continued, 'You must have been seized this
morning at your house, in obedience to a secret order.'
' Obtained by my very dear and loyal cousin,' grumbled the
little marquis. ' I think I remember yesterday showing some
disgust at certain dishonourable proceedings.'
' Do you remember your champagne duel with the hunch-
back ?'
Chaverny nodded.
'It was I who played the hunchback,' answered the
voice.
' You!' cried the marquis; ' you, Lagardere!'
The voice continued: ' When you were intoxicated, Gon-
zagues gave orders that you should disappear. You were in
his way. Besides, he feared the remains of honour that still
exist in you. But the two braves to whom the commission
was given are mine—I gave a counter order.'
' Hush!' said Chaverny. 'All this is incredible. Greater
reason for believing it.'
' The parcel that I sent you was a message,' continued the
voice. ' I have traced some words with my blood on a hand-
kerchief. Are you able to get it sent to the Princess Gon-
zagues ?'
Chaverny's motion expressed no. At the same time he
picked up the handkerchief, to see how so light a thing could
have given him so hard and well-directed a blow. Lagardere
had tied a tile in the handkerchief.
' Then it was to break my head,' grumbled Chaverny. ' But
I must have been fast asleep for them to have been able to
put me here unknown to myself.'
He untied the handkerchief, folded it, and placed it in his
pocket.
' I don't know whether I am right, but I believe you are
quite willing to serve me.'
Chaverny answered with his head.
' According to all probability I shall be executed to-night.
Let us therefore make haste. If you can confide this message
THREE FLOORS OF DUNGEONS.
301
to no one, do what I have done—pierce your prison floor, and
try your fortune underneath.'
'With what did you make your hole?' asked Chaverny.
Lagardere did not hear, but he guessed, for the spur, white
with plaster, fell at the marquis's feet. The latter set him-
self to work in good earnest, and as the fumes of intoxication
evaporated, he was exasperated at all the injuries that Gon-
zagues wished to do him. ' If we don't settle accounts to-day,'
he said, ' it will not be my fault.' And he worked with all
his might, making a hole ten times as large as was necessary
to throw down the handkerchief.
'You make too much noise, marquis; you will be heard.'
Chaverny tore up the bricks, the plaster, the laths, and
covered his hands with blood.
' Zounds !' said Cocardasse, ' what a jig they are dancing
overhead!'
' Perhaps it is a wretch being strangled, and who resists,'
said Passepoil, whose thoughts were very dark this morning.
'Well,' said the Gascon, 'if he is being strangled, he has
good cause to resist. But I rather think it is some madman
that has been placed here before sending him to Bicetre.'
A heavy blow was heard at this moment, followed by a
cracking noise, and the fall of part of the ceiling. The plaster
falling between our two friends made a cloud of dust.
'Letus recommend our souls to Heaven,' said Passepoil;
'we have no swords, and great danger menaces us.'
' Nonsense!' cried the Gascon. ' It would come by the door.'
' Oh!' cried the little marquis, whose head was seen through
the large hole in the ceiling, ' you are two there ?'
' As you see, marquis,' said Cocardasse; ' but zounds ! why
so much litter ?'
' Put your straw under the hole, that I may jump down.'
' No, no ; two here are enough,' said Cocardasse.
' And the gaoler is not a man to joke with,' added Passepoil.
Still Chaverny went on enlarging his hole.
' Oh!' said Cocardasse, looking at him; ' what a way to build
prisons.'
'It is built of mud and spittle,' said Passepoil in disdain.
' Straw, straw !' cried Chaverny, impatiently.
Our two bravos did not move. Chaverny bethought him of
mentioning Lagardere. Directly, the straw in a heap was
placed under the hole.
' Is he with you P' asked Cocardasse.
' Have you news of him P' added Passepoil.
Chaverny, instead of answering, put his legs through the
hole. He was slim; still his body would not pass through.
He made vigorous efforts. Cocardasse began to laugh, seeing
302
THE DUKE'S MOTTO,
the tvro legs dangling overhead. Passepoil, always prudent,
put his ear to the door to listen. Chaverny's body was gra-
dually passing through.
' By Jove!' cried Cocardasse, ' he will fall, and it is high
enough to break his ribs.'
Passepoil measured the distance with his eye. ' It is high
enough for him to hurt us in falling, if we are stupid enough
to serve him as a mattress.'
' Nonsense!' cried Cocardasse; 'he is so slim.'
' So he may be; still, a fall from twelve or fourteen feet '
' Never mind, comrade; he comes from our Little Parisian.
To your place!'
Passepoil made no more objection. Cocardasse and he
joined their strong arms above the heap of straw. Almost
directly there was a fresh crack in the ceiling. The two
bravos shut their eyes, held each other fast, and suddenly
fell the body of the little marquis on their extended arms.
All three fell on the floor, blinded by a shower of plaster.
Chaverny was the first on his legs ; he shook himself, and
began to laugh. ' You are good fellows; the first time I saw
you I took you for two cut-throats. But don't be angry; let
us force the door, and all three fall upon the gaolers and take
the keys.'
' Passepoil,' said the Gascon; * do I look like a cut-throat?'
' Cocardasse,' asked the Norman,' do you think I look like
a cut-throat ? It is the first time,' looking askance at the mar-
quis,' that such an insult Assuredly, the fellow shall give
us satisfaction when we are out. In the meanwhile, his idea
pleases me: let us force open the door.'
Passepoil stopped them as they rushed forward. ' Listen!'
said he, putting his ear to the door.
There was a noise in the passage. In a moment the plaster
was thrown into a corner, and the straw put in order. A key
turned in the lock.
' Where can I hide myself?' cried Chaverny, laughing, not-
withstanding his embarrassment.
Without, large and heavy bolts were drawn. Cocardasse
quickly took off his coat. Passepoil did the same.
' Let us stand opposite each other, and pretend to be wrest-
ling.'
' There, comrade, for you, one, two.'
' Touched,' cried Passepoil, laughing; ' if they would only
let us have our swords to pass away the time.'
The heavy door rolled on its hinges. Two men—a gaoler
and key-bearer—stood aside to let a third person, in a brilliant
court-dress, pass in.
<' Don't go away,' cried the latter, drawing the door to after
him.' It was Master peyrolles, in all the splciiJ~r of his
!TtoEE FLOORS OF DUNGEONS.
303
rich dress. Our two bravos recognised him at once, and con-
tinued their game without paying him the slightest attention.
Tkis morning, in quitting the pavilion, good Master Peyrolles
had recounted his treasure. At sight of all this gold so
honestly come by, at the sight of all these notes, so carefully
folded in his strong-box, Peyrolles had a strong inclination to
leave Paris, and retire into the country to taste the pleasures of
a proprietor. The sky seemed to him to darken, and his interest
whispered to him—' Depart!' But could there be much danger
in staying one day longer P This sophism will eternally lose
the avaricious. A day is so short. They don't think that it
contains fourteen hundred and forty minutes, each one of
which is sixty times longer than is necessary for a knave to
draw his last breath.
' Good morning, my good friends,' said Peyrolles, looking
to see if the door was slightly open.
'Farewell, comrade,' said Cocardasse, 'my friend and I
were just saying that if they would give us back our swords,
we could manage to pass the time.'
'There,' cried the Norman, giving his adversary a blow in
the stomach.
'And how do you get on here?' asked the factotum, in a
conciliatory voice.
'Not ill, not ill,' cried Cocardasse ; ' any news in town P'
'Nothing that I know, my worthy friends. And so you
wish to have your swords back P'
' Habit,' said Cocardasse ; ' all habit; when I have not mine,
I feel as if I had lost a member.'
'And if, in giving you back your swords, your prison-doors
were opened ?'
'Zounds !* that would be nice, would it not, PassepoilP'
'What must me do for that?' asked the latter.
'Very little, my dear friends, very little; to pay youf
thanks to a man whom you have always looked tLpon as an
enemy, and who always bore you goodwill.'
' Who is this excellent man, forsooth ?'
' It is I myself, my old comrades. Eemember,we have known
each other more than twenty years.'
' Three-and-twenty at Michaelmas. It was the evening of
that fete-day that I gave you two dozen blows behind the
Louvre, on the part of M. Maulevrier.'
'Passepoil,'cried Cocardasse, 'these unpleasant reminis-
cences are out of season. On my part, I often thought that
good Master Peyrolles favoured us secretly. Make your
excuse to him directly.'
Passepoil obediently quitted his place at the end of the
room and advanced cap in hand. Master Peyrolles, who was
on hie guard at the moment, saw the places that the plaster
304 the duke's motto.
liad whitened, and his eye immediately turned to the ceiling.
At sight of the hole he turned pale, hut did not cry out, be-
cause Passepoil, humble and smiling, was between him and
the door. Only instinctively he took refuge near the heap of
straw to keep his back free. In fact, he had before him two
resolute, strong men, but the gaolers were within call, and
he had his sword. At the moment that he stopped, his back
turned to the heap of strawr, Chaverny peeped out from under
Passepoil's coat.
CHAPTER XLVIII.
OLD ACQUAINTANCE.
We must now tell the reader what business brought Pey-
rolles into the prison, for this clever man was not one to
showr his own cards. Our two bravos were to appear as wit-
nesses before the Chamber of the Inquisition. Gonzagues
had not counted on this. Peyrolle3 was charged to make
them dazzling offers that their consciences must accept; a
thousand pistoles to each at once, and paid beforehand,. not
even to accuse Lagardere, only to say that they were not
near the trenches of Caylus the night of the murder. InGon-
zagues' idea this negotiation would be the more secure be-
cause Cocardasse and Passepoil would not be in haste to own
their presence in that place.
How we come to the cause which prevented Peyrolles
having the chance of displaying his diplomatic talents on this
occasion. The merry face of the little marquis had lifted
up the coat, whilst Peyrolles was occupied in watching the
movements of our two bravos, and turned his back to the
straw. The little marquis made a sign to his allies, who ap-
proached softly.
' Truly,' said Cocardasse, pointing to the hole in the ceiling,
' it is too bad to put two gentlemen in a place so badly
roofed. The further one goes the less one regards propriety.'
' Comrades,' cried Peyrolles, frightened at seemg them so
close, one on the right side, the other on the left; ' no tricks;
if you force me to draw my sword '
' For shame!' sighed Passepoil; ' draw on us ?'
They kept drawing still nearer, still Peyrolles, before he
called out, which would have broken off all negotiation,
suited the action to the word, and put his hand on his sword,
saying—'"What is the matter, children? You have been
trying to escape by that hole—is it not so ? by getting on each
OLD ACQUAINTANCE.
305
others' backs, and 'you could not succeed. Stop,' be cried,
'not so near, or I draw.'
There was another band on his sword. This hand, white
and ornamented with tumbled ruffles, belonged to the little
marquis. The latter had come forth from his hiding-place
and stood behind Peyrolles. The factotum's sword slipped
from his fingers, and Chaverny, seizing him by the collar,
pointed the sword to his throat.
' One word, and you are a dead man !' he cried.
Foam came to Peyrolles' mouth, but ho was silent. Cocar-
dasse and Passepoil with their cravats gagged him in less
time than we can tell it.
'Apd now,' said Cocardasse to the little marquis.
' Now,' he replied, ' to the right of the door, and this good
fellow to the left, the two gaolers will come in. Your hands
violently on their throats.'
' Will they come in ?' asked Cocardasse.
' Master Peyrolles will be our decoy bird.'
The two bravos ran to place themselves right and left of the
door. Chaverny, with the sword at his throat, ordered Pey-
rolles to cry for help. Peyrolles called out, and immediately
the two gaolers rushed in. Passepoil seized one, Cocardasse
the other; both made a gurgling noise and then were silent,
half-strangled. Chaverny closed the door, took out from the
gaolers' pockets a bundle of cords, and handcuffed them
both.
' By all that is good,' said Cocardasse, ' I never saw such
a clever marquis.'
Passepoil joined his now great applause to the commenda-
tion of his noble friend. But Chaverny was in a hurry.
' To work,' he said; ' we are not yet in the streets of Paris.
Gascon, undress the gaoler, and put on his clothes. You,
friend, do the same to his follower.'
Cocardasse and Passepoil looked at each other.
' Here is a thing which embarrasses me,' said the Gascon,
scratching his eye; ' I don't know how far it may become
gentlemen to put on '
' I am going to put on the coat of the greatest villain I
know!' And Chaverny snatched off Peyrolles' splendid coat.
' My noble friend, yesterday we put on '
Cocardasse interrupted him fiercely. ' Peace!' he said; 'I
command you to forget that painful circumstance; besides, it
was in the service of our Little Parisian.'
' It is in his service to-day.'
Cocardasse sighed deeply, and put on the gaoler's clothes,
who had his mouth gagged. Chaverny had also put on Master
Peyrolles' eoat.
20
306 the duke's motto.
'My children,' he said, assuming Peyrolles' manner, 'I
have executed my mission to these two poor fellows. I beg
you to lead me out.'
* Do I look like a gaoler?' asked Passepoil.
' As like as two peas,' said the little marquis.
'Well! and shall I do for one?' asked Cocardasse, not
caring to hide his disgust.
' Oh, famously ; but let us be going, I have my message to
take.'
They all three left the cell, doubly locking the door behind
them, not forgetting the bolts. They passed the first passage;
it was empty.
' Your head not so high, friend Cocardasse,' said Chayerny;
' I am afraid of your terrible mustachios.'
' Zounds!' answered the Gascon, ' if you were to bray me
in a mortar you could not take away my good looks.'
' They will die with us,' added Passepoil.
Chaverny pulled down the woollen cap over the ears of the
Gascon, and taught him how to hold his keys.
They reached the door in the courtyard. The yard and the
cloisters were full of people. There were great doings at the
Chatelet, because the Marquis of Segr6 was giving a break-
fast to the assistants of the council awaiting the sittihg of
the court. There were passing round dishes, hot plates, and
baskets of champagne, which came from the famous restau-
rant of the Sucking Calf, established two years before on the
square of the Chatelet by the cook Le Preux.
Chaverny, his hat over his eyes, passed first. ' My friend,'
he said to the porter, ' you have here two dangerous fellows;
be vigilant.'
The porter took off his hat, grumbling. Cocardasse and
Passepoil crossed the courtyard without hindrance. In the
guard-room Chaverny played the part of a curious person
visiting a prison. lie looked at everything through his
glass, and asked several absurd questions very gravely. He
was shown the bed where the Marquis de Horn rested ten
minutes in company with the Abb6 la Mettrie, his friend, after
the last audience. This appeared to interest him vastly.
There was now only the court to pass through, but at the
threshold Cocardasse was near overturning a cook from the
Sucking Calf, carrying a large dish of blancmange. Our hero
uttered a loud ' Capedebiou,' which made people turn round.
Passepoil's blood ran cold.
' Friend,' said Chaverny, sadly, ' this child had no had
motive, and you might keep yourself from swearing and
blaspheming.'
Cocardasse hung down his head. The soldiers thought
what a grand vounu nobleman Chaverny was.
OLD ACQUAINTANCE. 307
' I don't know that Gascon gaoler,' grumbled the turnkey.
' By Jove! if the fellows don't thrust themselves in every-
where.'
The wicket happened to be just open to receive a superb
roast pheasant, the principal dish of the Marquis de Segre's
breakfast. * Cocardasse and Passepoil, no longer able to
repress their impatience, crossed in one bound the threshold.
'Stop them! stop them!' cried Chaverny. 'Don't you
see they have fled. When one flies it is because there is a
bad motive. Stop them! stop them!'
The turnkey rushed out and fell, stunned by the large
bunch of keys that Cocardasse threw at him. Our two
bravos took to their heels, and vanished down the cross-
road of the Lantern. The carriage which had brought Pey-
rolles was still at the door; Chaverny recognised the Gon-
zagues'livery; he got in, crying loudly, 'Stop them! stop
them!' and taking advantage of the bustle, he looked out at
the other window and cried, ' Home, rascal; aud drive fast!'
The horses set off in a gallop. When the carriage had reached
the Sue St. Denis, Chaverny wiped his face, covered with
perspiration, and began to laugh, holding his sides. This dear
Peyrolle's had set him free, and moreover provided him with
a carriage to take him without fatigue where he desired to go.
It was the same gloomy chamber where we first saw the
Princess Gonzagues, the morning before the meeting of the
family council. There were the same exterior signs of mourn-
ing, the altar hung with black where was daily celebrated the
mass for the dead in honour of the Duke of Severs, always
the large white cross, and the lights burning. But something
was changed. An element of joy, toned, and as yet scarce
perceptible, had slid among these signs of mourning. There
were flowers on both sides of the altar, and still it was not the
birthday of the deceased duke. The curtains, half open, let
in a few beams of the autumnal sun. At the window hung
a cage in which a pretty bird chirupped—the bird we had
before seen at the lower window looking on to the Hue St.
Honore at the corner of the Hue du Chantre—the bird which
brightened the solitude of the charming unknown whose
mysterious existence troubled the repose of Mesdames Bala-
hault, Durand, and Guichard, and the other gossips.
There were present in the oratory many people, although it
was yet early. First there was a beautiful young girl, who
slept on a sofa. Her exquisite features were rather in the
shade, but the sunbeams played, on the rich masses of her
brown silken hair. Standing near her was the first woman
of the bedchamber, good Madeleine Giraud, who had her
hands joined, and tears in her eyes.
308
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
Madeleine bad just owned to tbe princess tbat tbe mira-
culous warning found in tbe prayer-book at tbe page Miserere
wbicb said, ' Come and defend your child,' and reminded tbe
princess after nearly twenty years of tbe duke's motto,
Adsum, bad been placed tbere by Madeleine berself, in
concert with tbe buncbback. Tbe princess bad embraced her.
Madeleine felt as bappy as if a child of her own had been
found. Tbe princess was seated at tbe other end of the room.
Two women and a boy stood before her. Near her were the
scattered leaves of a manuscript with the box that had con-
tained them—Aurora's manuscript. These lines, written in
tbe ardent hope tbat one day they might reach her unknown
but beloved mother's bands bad reached their destination.
Tbe princess bad read them; it could be easily seen in her
gentle tears. In regard to tbe manner in which the box and
tbe bird bad been brought to Gonzagues' palace there was no
need to inquire. One of the two women was the honest
Eran<joise Berichon, and tbe boy who twiddled his cap with
a bashful yet mischievous air was Jean Marie. It was
Aurora's page, tbe chattering and imprudent boy who had
decoyed bis grandmother from her post to encounter the
seductions of tbe gossips of tbe Hue du Chantre. The
other person stood a little aloof. It was easy, even under
her veil, to recognise tbe bold, yet graceful features of Donna
Cruz. At this moment there was in her roguish features an
expression of deep feeling. Dame Berichon was speaking;
' That boy is not my son,' she said, in her rough voice, point-
ing to Jean Marie; ' he is the son of my poor boy. I may
say that my poor Berichon was another sort of lad. He
was five feet ten inches tall, and bad plenty of courage 5 he
died a soldier.'
'And you were in Nevers' service, my good woman P' in-
terrupted the princess.
'All tbe Bericbons,'answered Framboise, ' from father to
son, since the beginning of the world. My husband was
groom to tbe Duke Amaury, father of the Duke Philip. My
husband's father '
' But your son,' interrupted tbe princess; 'it was be who
brought me that letter to the castle of Caylus P'
' Yes, noble lady, it wras himself, and Heaven knows that all
bis life he remembered tbat night. He met, be told me so a
hundred times, in tbe forest of Ens, Dame Martha, your
ancient duenna, who had taken charge of the child. Dame
Martha recognised him from having seen him at our young
duke's castle when she brought your messages. Dame Martha
said to him ' There is some one down at the castle there who
knows everything. If you see my young lady, tell her to be
OLD ACQUAINTANCE.
309
very cautious.' Berichon was taken by tbe ruffians and
delivered by Heaven's mercy. Tbis was the first time he saw
the Chevalier Lagardere, whom every one spoke of. He told
lis he was as beautiful as the archangel St. Michael in the
church at Tarbes.'
' Yes,' said the princess, who was reflecting; ' he is very
handsome.' _ ^ .
' And brave,' continued Fran^oise, with animation; ' a lion.'
' A real lion,' Jean Marie was going to say, but Franijoise
cut him short.
' Berichon, my poor boy,' continued the poor woman,
' related as how that He vers and Lagardere met to fight, and
as how Lagardere defended He vers a whole half hour against
twenty ruffians, saving your presence, armed to the teeth.'
Aurora de Caylus made a sign to her to stop. She was
weak against these agonizing memories.
'Philip,'she murmured, 'my beloved,'her eyes overflowing
with tears, 'it seems only yesterday ! Years, like days, have
passed away; my wounded heart bleeds, and will never cease.'
There was a sparkle in Donna Cruz's eyes, who looked
with adoration on this profound sorrow. There was in her
voice that ardour which makes the heart beat quicker, and
raises the soul to heroism.
Dame Framjoise shook her head in a maternal manner.
' Time is time,' she said;' one must not harm oneself for what
is past.'
Berichon muttered to himself—'How my good grand-
mother preaches!'
' Then about four or five years since the Chevalier
Lagardere came to our country to ask me if I would
like to serve the late "duke's daughter. I said yes, at
once, because they had told me how things had been. The
duke, while he was dying, called the chevalier by his name,
and said,' My brother! my brother!' The princess held her
hands to her heart. And, besides,' continued Fran9oise,
' you will be a father to my child! and you will avenge me!'
Berichon never uttered a falsehood; while, besides, what
interest could he have in deceiving ? We set off, Jean Marie
and I. The chevalier thought Mademoiselle de Nevers was
too old to live alone with him.'
' And he wished,' said Jean Marie, ' that the young lady
should have a page.'
Franchise shrugged her shoulders.
' The boy is a chatterer, noble lady, asking your pardon.
Well, then, we set off for Madrid, which is, you know,
the capital of Spain. Oh dear! tears came into my eyes
when I saw the dear child, the very picture of the young
310
THE DURESS MOTTO.
master; but, oli, I was obliged to be silent, tbe chevalier in-
sisted on it.'
'And all tbe time you were there with them,' said the
princess, whose voice trembled, ' this gentleman—this Lagar-
dere '
' Oh! heavens! noble lady,' cried Francoise, lier face
reddening, ' on my faith ! perhaps I might suspect, like you,
being a mother, but during the six years I have been with the
chevalier, I have learnt to love him as much and more than
my own family. If any one but yourself had had a sus-
picion But you must pardon me,' she said, curtseying,' I
am forgetting whom I am speaking to. But that gentleman
is a saint: your daughter was as well taken care of at his
house as if she had been with her mother. It was a respect,
a kindness, so gentle and full of tenderness.'
'You do well to defend one who does not even deserve to
be accused,' answered the princess, coldly; ' but give me some
uccount. How did my daughter live in her retreat ?'
'Alone; always alone; too much alone. Still, if they had
listened to me '
' "What do you mean ?' asked the princess.
Dame Francoise gave a look towards Donna Cruz, who
stood motionless.
' Listen, then,' continued the good woman; ' a girl who
sang and played in the streets was not fit society for a duke's
heiress.'
The princess turned towards Donna Cruz, and saw a tear
sparkling on her eyelid.
' You have nothing more to reproach your master with.'
'To reproach!' cried Francoise, 'it is not a reproach;
besides, the young girl came seldom, and I was always there
to watch.'
' It is well, good woman,' said the princess; ' you and your
grandson, from hence, form part of my household.'
' On your knees!' cried Francoise, pushing Jean Marie,
roughly.
The princess stopped this expression of gratitude, and made
a sign to Madeleine Giraud, who led them towards the door.
Donna Cruz also approached the door.
' Where are you going, Flora?' cried the princess.
Donna Cruz thought she had been mistaken.
The princess continued—
' Was not that the name she called you P Flora! I want
to embrace you.'
And as the young girl did not obey instantly, the princess
arose and took her in her arms. Donna Cruz felt her face
covered with her tears.
a mother's heart.
311
'She loves you,' murmured the happy mother; 'it is
written here, in these pages, which will never leave my bed-
side! You are her gipsy girl—her first friend. Happier
than I, you knew her as a child. Was she not pretty, Flora P
tell me that.'
And without leaving her time to answer, she continued in
her impetuous and deep mother's feelings—'All that she
loves, I will love ! I love you, Flora, my second daughter!
Embrace me ; and can you love me ? Oh, if you knew how
happy I am, and how I wish all the world to be joyful! That
man—do you understand, Flora, that man who has robbed
me of my child's heart—well, I feel that, if she wishes it, I
could love him!'
CHAPTER XLIX.
a mother's heart.
Donna Cruz smiled in her tears; the princess pressed her
madly in her arms.
'Do you know, Flora, dear child, that I dare not yet
embrace her so ? Don't be angry, I embrace her in you.'
She put her away from her for a moment, to look at her
more closely. ' You danced in the public streets, little one!
you had no one belonging to you. Should I have loved her
less had I found her thus P O God! how weak we are!
The other day I said, if Nevers' daughter has, but for a
moment, forgotten the pride of her race No! I cannot go
on, my blood runs cold in thinking that you might have
taken me at my word. Come and thank God, my gitana—
come!'
She drew Donna Cruz to the altar, and knelt down.
' Nevers!' she cried, ' I have our child! God sees the joy—
the gratitude of my heart!' Truly, her best friend could not
have known her. The rose had returned to her cheeks.
She was young, she was beautiful; her eyes shone with bril-
liancy, her slim supple figure had recovered its youth. Her
voice had sweet, delicious accents. She remained a moment
lost in ecstasy.
'Are you a Christian, Flora P—Yes, I remember,' she says;
'so you are a Christian! How good God is; is He not?
Give me your hands, and feel the beating of my heart.'
'Ah!' cried the poor gitana, bursting into tears, 'if I had
a mother like you!' The princess pressed her again to her
heart.
' Did she speak to you of me P What had you to say to-
gether ? That day that you first met her she was quite a
312
TIIE DUKE'S MOTTO.
child. Do you know ?' she said, interrupting herself, for fever
gave her this incessant longing to talk, ' I think she is afraid
of me. I shall die if that lasts. You will speak to her of
me, Flora, my little Flora.'
'Madame,' said the gitana, seriously, 'have you not seen
therein how much she loves you ?' She pointed to the leaves
of Aurora's manuscript.
' Yes,' rejoined the princess, ' can I express what I felt in
reading that P My daughter is not grave and serious as I am.
She has her father's gay heart, hut I have wept so much.
I was gay once. The house in which I was born was a
prison, and still I laughed, I danced, until the day when I
saw him who was to bury in his grave all my joy, all my
smiles.' She passed her hand rapidly over her forehead.
' Did you ever see a poor woman become mad P' she asked
suddenly.
Donna Cruz looked at her with alarm.
' Fear not, fear not! happiness is to me such a new feeling,
I was going to say, Flora, my child. Have you remarked it,
my daughter is like me ? Her gaiety fled the day that love
came. On the last pages are many traces of tears.' She
took the gitana's hand to return to her place. Every
moment she turned to the sofa where Aurora slept; still some
unknown restraint seemed to keep her at a distance. ' She
loves me ! Oh, yes!' she continued, ' but the smile that she
remembers, the smile that leant over her cradle was that
man's! Who gave her her first lesson? that man! Who taught
lier the name of God P that man again!'
' It is not your heart that speaks, madame!' said Donna
Cruz.
The princess pressed her arm violently. ' Yes,' she said,
' it is my heart. They went together into the fields near
rnmpeluna, on leisure days. He made himself a child to
play with her. Is it for a man to do this P Is it not a
mother's right? When he came back from work he brought
her a plaything, or something nice to eat. Had I been poor and
in a foreign country with my child, what could I have done
more P He well knew he was taking, he was stealing all her
tenderness.'
' Oh, madame!' cried the gipsy.
' Are you going to excuse him ?' cried the princess, with a
look of defiance, ' Do you take his part P I see it, you love
him belter than you do me P'
Donna Cruz raised the hand she held to her lips. Tears
came into the princess's eyes. ' Oh! that man, that man!'
she murmured. ' I am a widow; the love of my child was all
that remained to me.'
a mother's heart. 313
Donna Cruz remained silent before this great injustice of
maternal affection. This ardent girl, who only yesterday
wished to play in the drama of life, understood this. Her
heart contained the germ of jealous and passionate love.
The princess had seated herself and took up Aurora's
manuscript, turning over the first pages thoughtfully. ' How
often,' she said slowly, ' has he saved her life!' She seemed
as if she were going to read, but stopped at the first pages.
' What is the good ?' she said, mournfully. ' I only gave
her life once. It is true, it is true,' she continued, with a
fierce accent, ' she belongs to him more than to me.'
' But you are her mother, madame,' said Donna Cruz, gently.
The princess raised to her a sad, suffering glance. ' What
do you mean?' she said; ' you wish to console me. It is a
duty to love one's mother, is it not ? I feel that if my daughter
loved me from duty, I should die.'
4 Madame, read again those pages in which she speaks of
you: what tenderness, what respectful love!'
' I have thought of it, Flora, my dear one. But there is
one thing that prevents my reading those lines again, which
I have so eagerly kissed. My daughter is severe. There are
threats therein. When she comes to hear that the obstacle
between her and her friend is her mother,'—her words
became as sharp as a sword. 'We read it together; you
remember what she says. She speaks of proud mothers.'
The princess shuddered violently.
'But you are not such a mother, madame,' said Donna
Cruz, who was looking at her.
' I have been one,' murmured Aurora de Caylus, hiding her
face in her hands.
At the other end of the room, Aurora de Nevers moved in
her sleep. Indistinct words escaped from her lips. The
princess shuddered, then arose and crossed the room on tip-
toe. She made a sign to Donna Cruz to follow her, as if she
felt the need of being protected. This feeling, which showed
itself perpetually, notwithstanding her joy,—this fear, this
tyranny, whatever name can be given to the jealous agony of a
poor mother, spoiling all her joy, had in it something childish
and heartrending at the same time. She fell on her knees be-
side Aurora. Donna Cruz remained standing beside her. For
a long time the princess contemplated her daughter's features.
She smothered her sobs. Aurora was pale. Her agitated
sleep had unfastened her hair, which fell dishevelled on the
carpet. The princess took it in her hands and pressed it
against her lips.
'Henri!' murmured Aurora, in her sleep. 'Henri, my
friend!'
314
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
The princess turned so pale that Donna Cruz rushed to-
wards her to support her, but slie was repulsed. The princess,
smiling though in agony, said, 4 I must accustom myself to
that. If only my name came also in her dream !' She waited,
the name came not. Aurora's lips were open, her breathing
was painful. 41 will have patience,' cried the poor mother;
4 perhaps another time she will dream of me.'
Donna Cruz fell on her knees before her. The princess
smiled on her, and resignation gave a heavenly expression to
her face.
4 Do you know,' she said, 4 the first time that I saw you,
Flora, I was surprised not to feel my heart go forth to you.
Nevertheless, you are beautiful; you have the Spanish style
of feature which I thought to find in my daughter. But look
at this forehead!'
She gently put aside the tresses of hair that nearly covered
Aurora's face. 4 You have not that,' she said, gently touch-
ing her daughter's temples; 4 that is Nevers'. When I saw
her, and that man said, 4 There is your daughter,' my heart
did not hesitate. It seemed tome that Hovers' voice, coming
from heaven, said also,4 This is our daughter.'
Her eyes considered eagerly Aurora's features.
4 While Nevers slept his eyelids fell thus, and I often no-
tired that line round the lips. There is still more likeness in
the smile. Hovers was quite young, and he was reproached
with having almost effeminate beauty. But what struck me
especially was that look. Oh! how like it is to the tender
fire of Nevers' eyes! God has put the same on the face of
this child, and it is my heart that I believe, not Lagardere's
wox*d.'
Madame de Gonzagues had spoken low; still, at the name
of Lagardere, Aurora trembled slightly.
Aurora put out her arms, and her slight figure extended
itself as one often does in awaking. Her eyes opened wide;
and as she looked round the room, surprise was pictured on
her features. 4 Ah ! Flora here!' she said; 41 remember her,
I did not dream.' She put her hands to her forehead. 4 This
rooily' she said, 4 is not the same we were in last night. Have
I been dreaming P Have I seen my mother P'
4 You have seen your mother,' answered Donna Cruz.
The princess, who had drawn back to the altar, had tears
of joy in her eyes. The child's first thought was for her.
Her daughter had not yet named Lagardere. Her heart was
raised to Heaven in gratitude.
4 But why am I thus overcome P' asked Aurora; 'each more-
ment that I make gives me pain, and breathing hurts my
breast. At Madrid, after my severe illness, when the deli-
A MOTHERS HEART.
315
rium and fever left me, I remember I felt thus. My head
seemed light, and such a weight at my heart! Each time
that I tried to think, my dazzled eyes saw fire, and my poor
heart was bursting.'
' You have had fever,' answered Donna Cruz; ' you have
been ill.'
She looked towards the princess as much as to say, ' It is for
you to speak now.'
The princess remained where she was with her hands joined
in prayer.
' I know not how to describe it,' murmured Aurora. ' It is
like a weight on my thoughts. I am continually about to
pierce the veil that is over my mind; but I cannot.' Her
head fell feebly on her pillow whilst she added, ' Is my mo-
ther angry with me ?'
When she had said this her eyes brightened at once. She
was almost aware of her position; but it was only for a mo-
ment. The cloud still rested on her thoughts, and her beau-
tiful eyes became dull.
The princess had shuddered at her daughter's last words.
With an imperious gesture she1 imposed silence on Donna
Cruz, who was about to answer.
She came with that quick light step which she must have
had as a young mother, when her child's cry brought her
to the cradle. She came; she took her daughter's head
in her lap and kissed her forehead.
Aurora smiled. It was then especially that the strange
hallucination she was under became apparent. Aurora ap-
peared happy; bu^ hnn-mr wi+.li tlmt ntilm cp-nt.lfi happiness
kissed her mother like a child accustomed every morning to
give and receive the same embrace. ' Mother,' she said, ' I
have been dreaming of you. You cried all^ last night in my
dream. But why is Elora here ? Flora has no mother; but
what strange things happen in a night!' This was the strife ;
her mind sought to tear the veil. But she gave up, conquered
by the sad feeling which oppressed her. 'Let me see you,
mother,' she said; ' come near me, hnd take me on your lap.'
The princess, laughing and crying, came and sat on the
sofa, and took Aurora's head on her knees. How to describe
what she felt! Is there, in any tongue, words to blame this
divine crime—the egoism of maternal love ? The princess
had her treasure all to herself; her child was on her lap,
feeble in mind and body. A child ; a poor child! The prin-
cess saw Flora, who wept. But the princess was happy; she
rocked Aurora on her bosom, murmuring unconsciously some
soft nursery song.
that is the same
tAurora
31C
THE DUKE'S VOTTO.
It vi as at once a beautiful and touching sight. Donna Cruz
turned away her head.
4 Mother,' said Aurora, * I have thoughts all around me,
and I cannot take hold of them. It seems that you will not
let me see clearly. Still I feel there is something wrong
about me. I ought not to be so with you, dear mother.'
4 You are upon my breast, dear child,' said the princess,
with inexpressible softness ; 4 will nothing beyond he happy
in the happiness you give me ? Best quietly in my
bosom.'
Madame,' cried Donna Cruz, leaning over, 4 the awaking
will be dreadful.'
The princess made a gesture of impatience. She wished
to rest in this strange delight which still tortured her heart.
ISTeed any one tell her that this was only a dream.
4 Mother,' said Aurora, 4 if you spoke, I think the bandage
would fall from my eyes. If you knew liow I suffer!' There
were tears in ber eyes; ber beautiful hands were clasped
tightly together.
4 You suffer?' cried the princess, pressing her in her arms.
4 Oh, yes,' cried Aurora, 41 am frightened, so frightened;
and then I know not, I know not—'
The princess felt a cold tremor come over her as she held
her in her arms.
4 Oh!' cried Aurora, 4 leave me. On my knees I ought to
look on you, mother; but, just now, it seemed that I had
never left your bosom.'
She looked at the princess with a scared expression. The
latter tried to smile, but her face expressed dread.
4 WJ;at is the matter, dear mother ? you are glad to have
found me again, are you not?'
41 am happy, adored child. Yes, it is so, you have found
me again ; you had no mother. And God, who has brought
us together, dearest child, will never separate us more.'
4 God!' said Aurora; 41 cannot pray to Him now; I have
forgotten my prayers.'
4 Will you repeat them after me P* asked the princess,
seizing this diversion with avidity.
4 Yes, dear mother; but wait, there is something else.'
4 Our Father,' began the princess, joining Aurora's hands
in hers.
'Our Father,' repeated Aurora like a little child. 'But
there is something else,' interrupted Aurora, pressing her
hands on her temples; 'there is something besides, Flora, you
know; tell me.'
4 Little sister,' muttered the gitana.
4 You know it,' said Aurora, 4 still no one will help me.'
A MOTHER'S HEART.
317
Suddenly she sat up and looked at her mother. 4 Did you
teach me my prayers, mother, when I was a child P'
The princess bent her^head and sighed. Aurora fixed on
her her earnest eyes.
4 No, it was not you,' she murmured. Her brain seemed to
make a last effort. A bitter cry escaped her. ' Henri!
Henri! where is Henri?' She stood up; her fierce and
proud look was fixed on her mother.
Flora tried to take her hands; she pushed her back with a
man's strength. The princess sobbed, her head on her knees.
4 Answer me,' cried Aurora; 4 Henri! what have they done
to Henri ?' .
4 I thought only of you, my child,' murmured the princess.
Aurora turned quickly to Donna Cruz. 4 Have they killed
him P' she said, her eyes on fire. Donna Cruz did not answer.
Aurora turned to her mother.
The latter fell on her knees, saying, 4 You break my heart,
child ; I implore your pity.'
4 Have they killed him ?' qsked Aurora again.
4 Always that man!' cried the princess, wringing her hands.
4 In my child's heart there is no room for her mother.'
Aurora's eyes were fixed on the ground. 4 They cannot tell
me if he is dead,' she murmured, thinking aloud.
The princess held out her arms towards her, then drew
back and fainted. Aurora held her mother's hands ; her face
was flushed, her eye wild. 4 On my faith I believe you,
madame,' she cried; 'you have done nothing against him; so
much the better for you, if you love me as I love you. Had
you done aught against him—
41 speak,' said Mademoiselle de Nevers, proudly; 41 do not
threaten. My mother and I have known each other but a
short time ; it is right that our hearts should be disclosed.
My mother is a princess ; I am a poor girl. This gives
me a right to speak proudly to my mother. If my mother
had been a poor woman and I a princess, I would have only
spoken to her on my knees.'
She kissed the princess's hand, who looked at her with ad-
miration. She was very beautiful then. The deep anguish
which tortured her soul without lowering her courage, put a
divine aureole round her girlish face. A girl, yet a woman
also, having all the dignity of a woman and a wife.
4 There is no one left me in the world but you, my child,'
said the princess; 'if I lose you I am abandoned and
wretched. Judge me, but with the pity one feels to those who
suffer. You reproach me for not tearing away the bandage
which blinded your vision, but you loved me when you were
delirious. It is true I feared your waking.'
318
THE DUKES MOTTO.
Aurora glanced towards tlie door.
'Do you wish to leave me ?' asked her mother, alarmed.
' I must,' answered the young girl; ' something tells me
that Henri calls me ; this moment he wants me.'
' Henri, always Henri 1' cried the princess with an accent
of despair;' all for him, nothing for your mother !'
Aurora fixed on her her large burning eyes. 'If he were
here, madam,' replied she, gently, ' and you were at a dis-
tance and in danger, I could have only spoken to him of you.'
' Is that true ?' said the princess, charmed. ' Do you really
love me as much as you do him ?'
Aurora let herself fall into her arms, murmuring, ' Oh, why
did I not know you sooner, dear mother ?'
The princess covered her with kisses. ' Listen,' she said;' I
know what it is to love a man. My noble and dear husband,
whose memory fills this breast, would smile in heaven at read-
ing my heart. Yes, I love you better than JSTevers, because
my love for hira is joined to my mother's love. I love
you for yourself, but also for him, my cherished hope, my hap-
piness. Listen, dearest; that you may love me I will love him
too. I know that you could not love me—you have written it
—if I repulsed him. Well, I will open my arms to him.' She
turned pale, for her gaze fell on Donna Cruz.
The gipsy passed into a closet, the door of which opened
near the sofa.
'You will open your arms to him, mother?' repeated
Aurora.
The princess was silent, and her heart beat violently.
'You cannot speak falsehoods, he is dead! You believe
him to be dead.'
Before the princess, who had fallen back on a chair, could
answer, Donna Cruz reappeared, and barred Aurora's way,
who was rushing towards the door. Donna Cruz had her
mantle and veil on. ' Have you confidence in me, little sister P'
she said. ' Your strength will betray your courage. All that
you wish I will do.' Then addressing the princess, she said,
' Pray, lady, order the carriage.'
' Where will you go, little sister ?' asked Aurora, faintly.
' The princess will tell me where I must go to save
him.'
CHAPTEE L.
CONDEMNED TO DEATII.
Donna Cbtjz stood at the door wailing. The mother and
daughter looked at each other. The princess had ordered
CONDEMNED TO DEATH.
319
the carriage. ' Aurora,' she said, ' I did not listen to the ad-
vice of your friend. She spoke on your account; I am not
angry with her; but did she think that I prolonged your
mind's slumber to prevent your doing anything?' Donna
Cruz came forward.
'Yesterday,' continued the princess, 'I was this man's
enemy. He had taken away my child, and appearances de-
clared that he had murdered my husband.'
Aurora drew herself up, but she became so pale that her
mother bent forward to support her. 'Continue, madam,'
she said, ' X listen to you. I see by your face that you have
already recognised your error.'
I have read your memoirs, dear child; it is eloquent
pleading. A man who has kept a heart so pure under his
roof for twenty years cannot be an assassin. The man who
has brought me back my child such as I have pictured her in
my most ambitious dreams of maternal love, must have a
conscience without reproach.'
' Thank you, mother, for him. Have you no other proofs ?'
' Yes, I have the testimony of two worthy people, a woman
and her grandson. Henri de Lagardere '
' My husband, mother,'
'Your husband, dear girl,' pronounced the princess, lower-
ing her voice, ' did not strike Philip de He vers ; he defended
him.'
Aurora threw herself on her mother's neck, and losing
at once all her coldness, covered her forehead and cheeks
with kisses.
'It is for him,' said Madame de Gonzagues, smiling sadly.
' It is for you,' cried Aurora, lifting her mother's hand to
her lips; ' for you, whom I have again found,—for you, whom
I love, and whom he will love too. And what did
you do ?'
' The regent,' answered the princess, ' has the letter which
clears the innocence of M. de Lagardere.'
' Thanks, oh, thanks, dearest mother ! but how is it we do
not see him?'
The princess made a sign to Plora, who approached her.
' I pardon you, dear,' she said, kissing her forehead. ' The
carriage is ready; you must go and get the answer to Aurora's
question. Go, and come back quickly ; we are waiting for
you.'
Donna Cruz went out quickly.
'Well, dear one,' said the princess, leading Aurora to the
sofa, ' have I sufficiently mortified that pride of rank which
you reproved before you knew of it? Am I sufficiently
obedient to the high commands of Mademoiselle de Nevers?'
320
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
4 You are good, dear mother,' answered Aurora. They sat
down.
' I love you, that is all,' said the princess. ' A while since I
was afraid of you, but I am no longer afraid; I have a talis-
man.'
4 What talisman ?' "ashed the young girl, smiling.
The princess looked at her in silence, then answered, ' To
love him that you may love me.'
Aurora threw herself into her arms.
Donna Cruz had passed through the reception-room and
reached the ante-room, when she heard the sound of many
voices, There was a grand dispute upon the staircase. A
voice that she thought she recognised was scolding the
princess's servants. The latter, who seemed formed in a
battalion on the other side of the door, defended the entrance
of the sanctuary.
' You arc drunk !' cried the footmen; whilst the sharp voices
of the chambermaids added, 'Your shoes are covered with
plaster, and you have straw in your hair: a fine state to appear
before the princess in!'
1 ' Zounds! rascals!' cried the voice of the besieger,' what
matters plaster, straw, or appearance ? In the place where I
come from they are not so over nice.'
' You come from the public-house !' cried the choir of foot-
men.
' Or the casino,' amended the maids.
Donna Cruz stopped to listen.
'Insolent rascals!' cried the voice; 'go and tell your mis-
tress that her cousin, the Marquis of Chaverny, asks to see
her immediately.'
' Chaverny!' cried Donna Cruz, astonished.
On the other side of the door the servants held a cousulra-
tion. At last they had recognised the Marquis of Chaverny,
notwithstanding his strange appearance, and the plaster that
covered his shoes. Every one knew that Chaverny was
cousin to Gronzagues. Apparently the little marquis found the
consultation too long. Donna Cruz heard a struggle, and
then the sound that a human body was falling down stairs.
Then the door opened suddenly, and the little marquis's
back, bearing the superb coat of Master Peyrolles, was
visible.
' Victory!' he cried, expelling the crowd of both sexes
which rushed upon him. ' By Jove ! if those rascals have not
nearly put me in a passion !' lie shut the door in their faces
and drew the bolt. Turning round he perceived Donna Cruz.
Before the latter could draw back or prevent him he seized
both her hands, and kissed them, laughing. The little mar-
CONDEMNED TO DEATH.
321
quis always acted on impulse, and never suffered himself to
be taken aback.
' Beautiful angel!' he said, whilst the young lady, half laugh-
ing, half confused, tried to free herself; 'I have dreamt of
you all night. It happens I am too busy this morning to
make you a declaration in form, so, throwing aside all prelimi-
naries, I throw myself at your feet and offer you my heart
and my hand.' He fell on his knees in the micWle of the
ante-room.
The gitana certainly did not expect such a proceeding,
still she was but little more embarrassed than the marquis
himself.
' I am in haste, also,' she said, trying to look serious;
' pray let me pass.'
Chaverny got up and embraced her frankly.
' You will be the most charming little marchioness in the
world he cried, ' that is a fact. Don't think I act without
consideration—I thought of it all the way I came.'
' But my consent,' objected Donna Cruz.
' I thought of that, too. If you don't consent, I shall carry
you off. How don't let us talk any more of a thing that is
quite settled. I bring most important news—I must see the
Princess Gronzagues.'
' The princess is with her daughter, and sees no visitors.'
'Her daughter!' cried Chaverny; ' Mademoiselle deNevers,
my yesterday's bride. A charming creature, indeed. But it
is you whom I love, and whom I shall marry to-day. Listen
to me, dearest; I am in earnest. Since Mademoiselle de
He vers is with her mother, all the stronger reason that I
should see her.'
' Impossible!' cried the gitana.
'Nothing is impossible to French cavaliers,' said Chaverny,
gravely.
He took Donna Cruz in his arms, and stealing the whilst
half-a-dozen kisses, put her on one side.
' I don't know thy road,' he-cried. ' Chaverny, the god of
good luck be my guide! Have you read the Calprevede
novels? A man who bears a message written with blood
passes through stone walls.'
' A message written with blood !' repeated Donna Cruz, no
longer laughing.
Chaverny was already in the reception-room. The gitana
ran after him, but she could not prevent his opening the door
of the oratory and appearing suddenly before the princess.
Here Chaverny's manner changed. Fools know their com-
pany.
' My noble cousin,' he said, stopping on the threshold, and
21
322
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
bowing low, 'I have never had the honour of paying my
respects to you, and you do not know me. I am the Marquis
of Chaverny, Nevers' cousin through my mother, Mademoi-
selle de Ohaneilles.'
At the name of Chaverny, Aurora had drawn towards her
mother. Donna Cruz entered the room behind the marquis.
'What do you want here, sir?' cried the princess, very
angrily.
4 I come to expiatethe sins of a silly fellow of my acquaint-
ance,' turning towards Aurora a supplicating look; 4 a giddy-
pate who bears my name, and instead of asking Mademoiselle
de fevers' forgiveness, I beg my pardonby bringing her a
message.'
He put one knee to the ground before Aurora. Aurora,
trembling and changing colour, had already guessed.
4 A message from Henri de Lagardere,' answered Chaverny.
At the same time he took from his bosom the handker-
chief upon which Lagardere had traced some words with his
blood.
Aurora tried to get up, but fell back on the sofa fainting.
4 Is it ?' cried the princess, seeing the rag stained with
blood.
Chaverny looked at Aurora, whom Donna Cruz held in her
arms.
4 The handkerchief,' he said,4 has a mournful appearance,
but do not frighten yourself. When one has neither ink nor
paper '
4 He lives !' cried Aurora, heaving a deep sigh.
Then her beafltiful eyes, filled with tears, were raised to
Heaven in thanksgiving. She took the handkerchief from
Chaverny's hand, and pressed it passionately to her lips.
The princess turned away her head—it was the last effort of
her pride. Aurora tried to read, but her tears blinded her;
besides, the linen had imbibed her tears. The letters were
almost illegible. The princess, Donna Cruz, and Chaverny
wished to help her—those large hieroglyphics were dumb to
them.
41 will read it,' said Aurora, wiping her eyes with the
handkerchief. She went to the window, and knelt down
before the piece of cambric spread out on the floor. She
read these words—
4 To the Princess Gonzagues—Let me see Aurora once more
again before I die.'
Aurora remained silent and motionless.
4 Where is he ?' she cried, rising from her mother's arms.
4 In the prison of the Chatelet.'
4 Then he is condemned ?'
CONDEMNED TO DEATH. 323
' I know not; all I know is, that lie is an secret.'
Aurora snatched herself away from her mother's embraces.
'I shall go to the Chatelet,' she said.
' You have your mother with you, my child,' said the prin-
cess, with an accent of gentle reproach. 'Your mother is
now your support and your guide. Your heart did not speak
—your heart would have said, ' Mother, conduct me to the
Chatelet.''
' What!' murmured Aurora, ' you would consent ?'
' My daughter's husband is my son,' answered the prin-
cess ; ' if he falls, I shall mourn—if he can be saved, I will
save him.'
She walked first towards the door. Aurora clung to her,
pressing her hand, and saying, ' Heaven reward you, dear
mother!'
There had been a long and splendid breakfast at the re-
gistry of the Chatelet. The Marquis of Segr6 merited the
reputation he had of doing things well. He was a good
judge of wine, a fashionable magistrate, and a finished gentle-
man. His guests, from Master Berthelot de L.ebaumelle to
the young Hasson Berdesson, auditor, who had only a con-
suiting vote, were good livers, with famous appetites, and
more at home at table than in court. This justice must be
granted them, that the second sitting of the court took much
less time than the breakfast.
Of the three witnesses that were to be examined, two were
missing—the aforesaid fugitive prisoners, Cocardasse and
Passepoil. One alone had given evidence—Master Peyrolles*
The charges brought against the accused by him were so
precise and overwhelming, that the proceedings were very
much simplified.
At this time everything was temporary at the Chatelet.
The Marquis of Segre had no dressing-room, except a little
dark closet, separated only by a plank from the place where
all the counsellors made their toilet together. This was very
uncomfortable, and the counsellors were better treated in the
provincial courts. The court of registry opened by a glass
door on to the bridge which joined the brick tower to the
new tower of the castle at the height of Chaverny's prison.
The condemned had to pass through this court to return to
prison.
' What is the time, Monsieur de Lebaumelle ?' asked the
Marquis de Segre, through his partition.
' Two o'clock, marquis,' answered the counsellor.
' The baroness will be waiting for me. What a nuisance
these double sittings are! Ask Monsieur Husson to see if
my chair is at the door,'
324
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
Husson Bordesson zealously ruslied down tlie stairs. One
lias to do this often to rise in office.
4 Do you know,' said Perrin Hacquelin des Maisons ' tliat
tliis witness, Master Peyrolles, expressed himself well? Had
it not been for him, we should have sat till three.'
' He is attached to the Prince Gonzagues' household,' an-
swered Lebaumelle; ' the prince knows how to choose his
people.'
' What did I hear P' said tho president, 'that the Prince
Gonzagues is in disgrace.'
' Not at all, not at all!' answered Perrin Hacquelin : ' the
prince had to-day all to himself the little levde of his royal
highness.'
' That is indeed a favour!'
' Knave! rascal 1 dolt! scoundrel!' cried out at this moment
the President de Segre.
That was his way of addressing his valet, who in revenge
robbed him without mercy.
' Mind!' he said, ' I am going to see the baroness; my hair
must be well dressed.'
At this moment an usher entered the common room of the
counsellors, saying, ' Some one to speak to the president.'
The marquis heard from his closet, and cried out,' I am
not to be seen—send all the folks to the devil!'
' They are two ladies,' replied the usher.
' Suitors! send them off. How are they dressed ?'
' Both in blaok, and veiled.'
' The proper dress for lovers. How did they come?'
' In a carriage, with the Prince of Gonzagues' arms on it.'
'Ah, the deuce! this Gonzagues was not at his ease in
giving his evidence before the court. But since his royal
highness the regent.—Let them wait. Hasson Berdesson!
' He is gone to see if your chair is at the door.'
' Never there when one wants him !' cried the grateful mar-
quis. 'He wont rise, that fellow!' Then raising his voice—'You
are dressed, Monsieur de Lebaumelle. Do me the pleasure
to go and keep these ladies company. I will be with them
directly.'
Bcrthelot de Lebaumelle, who was in his shirt, put on a
large coat of blaok velvet, and, dusting his wig, went to his
work.
The Marquis of Segrd said to his valet, ' If the baroness
does not think me well dressed, I shall dismiss you at once.
My gloves! A carriage with the Gonzagues' arms! Mlio
can the people be ? My hat!—my cane! Why, how came
this crease in my frill, scoundrel worthy of the wheel? You
will get me a nosegay for the baroness, knave ?'
CONDEMNED TO DEATH.
325
The marquis passed through the dressing-room, post haste,
answering by a nod the respectful salutations of his coun-
sellors. Then he made his entrance into the court of registry
—the very picture of a dandy president. It was labour lost.
The two ladies who awaited him in company of Monsieur de
Lebaumelle—as silent as a fish and upright as a pikestaff—
paid not the slightest heed to the president's graceful appear-
ance. Monsieur de Segre did not know these ladies. All
that occurred to him was, that they were not ladies from the
opera, such as the Prince Gonzagues usually patronised.
' To whom have I the honour of speaking, ladies ?' he said,
pirouetting and playing with his sword.
Lebaumelle, delighted to be released, retired to the dressing-
room.
' SirPresident,' answered the tallest of the veiled ladies, ' I
am the widow of Philip of Loraine, duke of Nevers!'
' Oh!' said Segre; ' but I fancy the Duke of Nevers' widow
married the Prince Gonzagues.'
' I am the Princess Gonzagues,' she answered, with apparent
reluctance.
The president made three or four courtesies, bowed, and
rushed towards the ante-room. ' Chairs, rascals!' he cried,
' I shall have to dismiss you all.'
His. angry voice startled the ushers, the waiters, the mace-
bearers, the clerks, and, in general, all the rats of a court of
justice who fatten on crime. A dozen chairs were brought.
' There is no need, sir,' said the princess, still standing.
' My daughter and I come '
' Ah ! indeed!' interrupted the marquis, bearing a true lily
bud. ' I did not know that the Prince Gonzagues '
'Mademoiselle de Nevers!' said the princess, gravely.
The president opened his eyes wide, and bowed.
' We come,' continued the princess, ' to bring important
evidence '
' Permit me to say that I guess,' interrupted the marquis
again;' our profession sharpens and subtilizes the mind—if one
may so express oneself—in a remarkable manner. We often
astonish people. By a word we see the phrase ; by a phrase we
know the book. I guess you come to bring new proofs of the
guilt of the criminal.'
'Sir!' cried the princess and Aurora at once.
'Superfluous, quite superfluous!' said the Marquis de
Segre, elegantly smoothing his frill. ' The thing is done !
The wretch will never assassinate anyone more!'
' Have you received nothing from his royal highness ?' asked
the princess, in a hollow voice.
Aurora, nearly fainting, leant against her mother.
326 the "duke's motto.
* Absolutely nothing, princess ; but there was no need—the
thing was done; an hour since the sentence was given.'
'And you received nothing from the regent ?' repeated the
princess, as if annihilated. She felt Aurora tremble at her
side.
' What could you wish for more ?' cried the president;
' that he should be broken on the wheel ? His royal high-
ness likes not that kind of thing, except in a case where
it is necessary to make an example for the sake of the Ex-
change.'
'Is he, then, condemned tq death?' murmured Aurora.
' And to what else, charming young lady ? Would you have
him put—upon bread and water P'
Mademoiselle de Nevers sank on a chair.
' What is the matter with the dear creature ?' asked the
marquis. ' Young ladies, madame, do not like to hear such
things spoken of; but I hope you will excuse me; the
baroness is waiting for me; I must hasten away. Much de-
lighted to have been able, personally, to furnish you with
particulars. Be kind enough to inform the prince everything
is irrevocably finished, and this very evening. Ladies, I kiss
your hands! Pray assure the Prince Gonzagues that at all
times he may count upon my zealous services.'
He bowed, he pirouetted towards the door, as was then the
height of bon ton. Whilst descending the stairs, he said
to himself, 'There is one step gained towards the presi-
dency. The Princess of Gonzagues is mine, bound hand and
foot!'
As to Aurora, she looked thunderstruck. She sat on the
chair upright and stiff, her eyes glazed.- There was no one
in the court of registxy. Neither mother or daughter could
speak; they were changed into marble statues. Suddenly
Aurora held out her hand towards the door by which the
president had departed. This door led to the tribunal and
the court of the judges.
' There he is!' she cried, in a voice that was scarcely be-
longing to the earth ; ' he comes, I know his step !'
The princess listened, but heard nothing. She looked at
her daughter, who repeated—' He is coming—I feel it! Oh!
how I wish I could die before him !'
A few minutes passed, then the door opened. Tears started
to the princess's eyes ; Aurora's eyes were diy and burning;
she could not move. Guards entered. Henri de Lagai'dere
was in the midst of them, his hands bound before him, and
his head uncovered. Lagarddre stopped on the threshold at
sight of the two ladies. He smiled sadly, and raised his eyes
as if in thankfulness.
THE LAST INTERVIEW.
327
* One word only, sir,' he said to the officer who accompanied
him.
' Our orders are peremptory,' said the latter.
' I am Princess Gonzagues, sir,' cried the poor mother,
turning towards the officer, ' cousin of his royal highness the
regent.'
The officer looked at her with astonishment. Then he
turned to the condemned and said, ' Not to refuse anything
to a man about to die—make haste." He bowed to the
princess, and passed into the next room, followed by the
soldiers and a Dominican friar, bearing a cross, who accom-
panied them.
Lagardere slowly advanced towards Aurora.
CHAPTEE LI.
THE I-AST interview.
The door of the court was left open, and the sentry's foot-
steps were heard in the neighbouring passage ; but the court
was deserted. Their last interview had no witnesses.
Aurora arose to receive Lagardere. She kissed his bound
hands, then held towards him her forehead as white as
marble.
Legardere pressed his lips to her forehead in silence.
Tears at last came to Aurora's eyes, when she looked to-
wards her mother, who was weeping.
' Henri, Henri! Is it thus we meet ?'
Lagardere looked at her as if all his love, all the deep
affections that had made his joy—his existence even so many
years, was concentrated in his last gaze. ' I have never seen
you so beautiful, Aurora,' he murmured; 'never did your
voice so deeply, so sweetly penetrate my heart. Thanks for
having come. The hours of my captivity have not been
many; your dear image has filled them all; your smile has
watched over me. Thanks for coming here; thanks my
beloved angel. And to you, madame,' he said, turning to the
princess, ' thanks especially to you. You might have refused
me this last joy.'
' Eefused you ?' cried Aurora, impatiently.
The eye of the prisoner turned from the proud bearing of
the daughter to the bending head of the princess. He
guessed all. ' This is not well, Aurora,' he said; ' this must
not be. This is the first reproach that my lips or my
heart have ever made you. You ordered, and your mother
obediently came. Do not answer,' he said; ' time flies. I
328
THE DUKE S MOTTO.
cannot give you many more lessons. Obey your mother;
love your mother. To-day you have the excuse of despair:
but to-morrow '
'To-morrow, Henri!' pronounced the young girl, re-
solutely. If you die, I shall be dead also.'
Lagardere drew back, and his countenance assumed a stern
expression. 'I had one consolation,' he said, ' almost a joy ;
' it was in thinking that, in quitting the world, I left behind
me my work ; and that in heaven Nevers would stretch out
his hand to me, for he would see his wife and daughter
happy through me.'
'Happy!' repeated Aurora—' happy without you?' She
laughed bitterly.
' But I was deceived,' continued Lagardere. This consola-
tiou is not mine; this joy you take from me. I have worked
so many years to see my work destroyed at once. This in-
terview ha3 lasted long enough. Farewell, Mademoiselle de
Nevers!'
The princess had drawn near gently; she, like Aurora,
kissed the bound hands of the)prisoner. ' And it is you—you,'
she murmured, ' that plead for me.' She received in her arms
Aurora, smiling. ' Oh! do not kill me,' she said; 'it is I—
my jealousy, my pride.'
' Dear mother,' cried Aurora, ' you break my heart!'
They sank together on the large seat.
Lagardere stood before them. 'Your mother mistakes.
You are crazy, madame; your pride, your jealousy, was
love. You are Nevers' widow, who has forgotten it for
a moment. I except myself. One only is guilty—that is
myself'. His noble countenance expressed sadness and) re-
pentance. ' Listen, Aurora,' he said; ' my crime was only
for a moment, aud had for excuse the wild, but endeared,
and a thousand times blessed dream that opened for me the
gates of Paradise. But my crime was great, great enough
to efface my devotion of twenty years. One instant only,
one instant, I wished to snatch away the daughter from the
mother.'
The princess looked down. Aurora hid her face in her
bosom.
' God has punished me,' continued Lagardere. ' God is just.
I shall die.'
'But is there no help P' cried the princess, who felt her
daughter fainting in her arms.
' To die,' said Lagardere, ' at the moment my life, so long
troubled, was about to blossom like a flower. I did wrong,
but the punishment is cruel. God seems more angry with
those who tarnish a good action by a crime. I thought of
THE LAST INTERVIEW.
329
this in my prison. What right had I, madame, to he sus-
picious of you P I ought to have brought her to you joyful,
smiling, by the great entrance of your palace. I ought to
have let you embrace her at your ease. Then she would have
said, ' He loves me—he is beloved.' And I should have fallen
at your feet entreating you to bless us both.' He bent one
knee to the ground. Aurora did the same. ' And you would
have done it, madame,' said Lagardere,' would you not ?'
The princess hesitated, not to bless, but to speak.
' And you would have done "it, dear mother,' said Aurora,
'would you not? As you will do it now in the moment of
agony.'
They bent their heads. The princess raised her eyes to
Heaven, streaming with tears, and said—' My God, work a
miracle!' Then joining their hands together, she kissed
them both, saying, ' My children !—my children!'
Aurora rose, and threw herself into her mother's arms.
'We are twice betrothed, Aurora,' said Lagardere. 'Thanks,
madame !—thanks, my mother! I never thought here to shed
tears of joy. And now,' he said, and his expression changed
at once, ' we must part, Aurora!'
The latter became pale as death; she had forgotten.
'Hot for ever,' said Lagardere, Bmiling. 'We shall see
each other once again, at least; but you must leave us for a
moment. I want to speak to your mother.'
Mademoiselle pressed Henri's hands to her heart, and
went to the window.
' Madame,' said Lagardere, when Aurora had left them, ' I
believe you sincere; you have forgiven me; but will you
grant a dying man's request ?'
' Whether you live or die,' answered the princess—' and I
would give my life that you might live—there is not, on my
honour, one thing that I could refuse you . Ho!' she said,
after a moment's pause, ' I have thought, but I could refuse
you nothing.'
' Listen to me, then, madame ; and may Heaven reward you
Avith the love of your dear child! I am condemned to death
—I know it—though my sentence has not been read. In no
instance has the imperative decision of the all-powerful In-
quisition been revoked. Yes, I am mistaken; there is one
case on record under the late king. The Count de Bassue
was condemned for poisoning the Elector of Hesse, and his
life was saved because the Italian Grimaldi, condemned for
other crimes, wrote to Madame de Maintenon and owned
himself guilty. But the guilty one in our case will never own
it; and it was not on this subject I wish to speak to you.'
' Butif there was still a hope?' said Madame de Gonzagues.
330
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
(There is no hope. It is now three in the afternoon; night
falls at seven. Towards dark an escort will come to conduct
me to the Bastille. At eight I shall be taken to the place of
execution.'
' I understand,' said the princess. ' On the way, if we had
friends ?'
No, madame,'he replied; 'you do not understand me. I
must explain myself clearly, for I have no hope of being
understood. Between the Chatelet and the place of execution,
the Bastille, we shall stop once—at the cemetery of Sainte
Magloire.'
' At the cemetery of Sainte Magloire!' repeated the prin-
cess, trembling.
' Must not,' said Lagardere, smiling bitterly,' the murderer
make reparation at the tomb of the murdered ?'
'You, Henri!' cried the princess, with emotion;' you!
Nevers* defender! You! our help! our protector! our
saviour!'
' Speak not so loud, madam. Before Nevers' tomb there
will be a block and an axe. I shall have my right hand cut
off at the entrance.'
The princess covered her face with her hands. At the other
end of the room, Aurora, on her knees, sobbed forth her
prayers.
'This is unjust—is it not so, madame? and however
obscure my name may be, you can understand this agony of
my last hour to leave an infamous name behind me!'
' But wherefore this useless cruelty ?' asked the princess.
' The President Segrc said,' answered Lagardere,' the death
of a duke and a peer must be avenged. We must make an
example.'
' But you are not the man!' cried the princess; ' the regent
will not permit.'
' The regent could have done everything before the sentence
was given — except in the case of the confession of the
guilty party. But let me think not of that. This is my last
request—you can make my death the last sacred act of a
martyr. You can reinstate me in the world's opinion—will
you do so?'
' You ask if I will! What must I do ?'
Lagardere lowered his voice. Notwithstanding this
assurance his voice trembled whilst he continued.
' The church is quite close! If Mademoiselle de Nevers,
in a bridal dress, was there ! If there was a priest in his
sacerdotal robes ! If you were there, too, madame ! And if
my escort, bribed, would give me ten minutes to kneel at the
altar!'
THE LAST INTERVIEW.
331
The princess drew back. Her legs trembled.
' I frighten you, madame !' began Lagardere.
' Go on!' she said, in a constrained voice.
'If the priest, with your consent/ continued Lagardere,
'the consent of He vers' widow, blessed the union of Made-
moiselle de Nevers and Henri de Lagardere !'
' On my honour!' cried the princess, with exultation, ' it
shall be done!'
A beam of joy lighted up Lagardere's face. His lips sought
the princess' hand. But she allowed him not. Aurora, who
had turned at the sound, saw her mother clasp the prisoner
in her arms. Others saw it too, for at this moment the door
opened, and the captain and his followers entered.
Madame de Gonzagues, without heeding it, continued in a
tone of enthusiasm,—
'And who will dare to say that she who has mourned his
death so many years would consent to the union of her
daughter with the murderer of her husband? It is well
thought of, Henri, my son!'
' Do not again say that.'
' I do not understand you.'
The prisoner's eyes filled with tears.
' Oh! you understand me,' he murmured; ' and you make
me regret life still more. I thought only to lose one trea-
sure.'
' Who does accuse you P' continued the princess. ' The
priest shall be there—I swear it—my own confessor. The
escort shall give us time should I have to sell my jewels to
bribe them—even pawn the ring exchanged with my husband
in the chapel of Caylus. And 1 will say '
'Hush! madame; in Heaven's name, we are no longer alone!'
The officer advanced, his staff in his hand.
' Sir,' he said, ' I have exceeded my orders. I desire you
will follow me.'
Aurora rushed forward to give the la3t kiss.
The princess said quickly, leaning towards the prisoner—
' Depend on me. But besides that, is there nothing that
can be done ?'
Lagardere was mournfully turning to join the officer.
' Listen,' he said, ' there is not even a chance, but the family
meeting takes place at eight. I shall be quite close. If I
might only be introduced into the presence of his royal high-
ness in the midst of the tribunal.'
The princess pressed his hand in silence. Aurora's eyes
mournfully followed her beloved, whom the archers again
surrounded, and that mysterious person accompanied wearing
the dominican dress.
332 THE DUKE'S JIOTTO.
The cortege disappeared "by the door leading to the new
tower. The princess seized Aurora's hand and drew her away.
' Come, child I' she said; 'it is not all over yet. God will
not suffer such a fearful wrong to he done.'
Aurora, more dead than alive, heard nothing.
The princess, getting into her carriage, said to the coach-
man—' To the Palais Royal.'
At the moment when the carriage left, another equipage on
the ramparts also set off.
An excited voice called from within—' If you don't get to
the Palais Royal before the princess I dismiss you!'
Leaning back in the second coach was Peyrolles, having
changed his dress, and bearing in his face unequivocal marks
of bad temper. He was also leaving the CMtelet, having
vented his rage there for having passed two-thirds of the day
in prison. His coach gained upon the princess's, passed it at
the Cross Trahor, and arrived first in the Court of Fountains.
Master Peyrolles jumped out and passed through Le Breant's
gate without a word. When the Princess Gonzagues arrived,
and desired an audience of the regent, she met with a dry
and positive denial.
She thought of waiting for the prince going out; but it
was already late, and she must keep her promise first to
Lagardere.
The Prince Gonzagues was alone in his study—the same
room in which he received Donna Cruz on her last visit. The
naked sword was laid on a table covered with papers. He was
engaged in putting on—without the assistance of his valet—one
of those thin coats of mail that could be worn under the
clothes. The dress he had just put off was a court dress of
black velvet, made without ornaments. His ribbon and
orders hung at the back of the chair. At this moment, when
the most fearful anxiety held him in its fierce grasp, the
ravages of years, which he was able so cleverly and happily
to disguise in general, left deep havoc on his features. His
black hair, which his valet had not properly arranged over
his temples, left uncovered the wrinkles on his forehead and
around his eyes. His tall figure was bent like an old man's,
and his hands trembled in fastening his body armour. ' He
is condemned,' he said ; ' the regent has permitted that. Is
it his idleness that suffers this ? or have I been able to per-
suade him ? I am grown thinner,' he said. ' Is it in truth
old age that has come at last? What a strange man he is,' he
soliloquised; ' a prince, who mocks at everything fantastic, idle,
cowardly. If he does not alter, although I am the eldest, I
think I shall be the best of the three Philips. He has been
in the wrong, by Heaven! When one sees one's foot on an
THE LAST INTERVIEW.
333
enemy one should not draw back, especially when that enemy
is Philip de Gonzagues. Enemy!' he repeated; 'all these
fine friendships finish there. Damon and Pythias must die
very young, otherwise they soon find good reason for cut-
ting each other's throat when they have reached manhood.'
The coat of mail was fastened. The Prince Gonzagues put
on his waistcoat, his orders, his coat, and lastly, arranged his
wig himself. ' And that fool Peyrolles!' he continued,
shrugging his shoulders; ' how willingly would the fellow
be at Madrid or Milan P How rich the creature is! Well,
it is a pleasure sometimes to make one's riches disgorge.'
Three light taps were heard on the door of the library.
' Come in,' answered Gonzagues; ' I have been expecting
you for the last hour.'
Master Peyrolles, who had taken time to re-arrange his
toilet, appeared on the threshold. ' Don't give yourself time,
sir, to reproach me !' cried he at once; ' it was a case of
superior strength. I come from the prison of the Chatelet.
Happily the two rascals in making off fulfilled the end of my
embassy; they were not in court, where I alone gave evi-
dence. The deed is done. In an hour that devil will have
his head cut off. To-night we shall sleep in safety.'
As Gonzagues did not understand, Peyrolles related, in a
few words, his accident at the Noce tower; and the flight of
Cocardasse and Passepoil in company with Chaverny.
At the last word, Gonzagues frowned, but there was no
time to think of smaller matters.
Peyrolles then related his meeting the Princess Gonzagues
and Aurora at the Chatelet. ' I reached the Palais Eoyal
just three minutes before them; but it was time enough.
You owe me, prince, five thousand francs, which I slid into
JNantz's hands, to refuse these ladies an audience.'
' Well,' said Gonzagues, ' and the rest P'
' The rest is done. Post-horses for eight to-night; relays
ready at Bayonne ; courier already sent forward.'
' That is right,' said Gonzagues, taking a parchment from
his pocket.
' What is that ?' asked the factotum.
'My passport on secret service, by royal warrant and
Argenson's signature.'
' He did that of his own accordP' murmured Peyrolles.
' I am thought to be more in favour than ever,' answered
Gonzagues. ' I managed that; and, by Heaven! they cannot
be far wrong. I must be a strong friend, Peyrolles, for the
regent to leave me my liberty. Very strong. If Lagardere's
head falls, I shall rise to such height that you may become
dizzy beforehand. The regent will not know how to repay
334 the duke's motto.
mo for his suspicions to-day. I shall hold off, and if he
attempts to swagger over me again when Lagardere—that
sword of Damocles—no longer hangs over my head, by Jove!
I have plenty of shares, yellow, white, and blue, to overturn
the bank.'
Peyrolles approved warmly, as was his duty. ' Is it true,'
he asked, * that his royal highness will preside at the family
council ?'
' I persuaded him to do so,' said Gonzagues, boldly.
How he deceived even his most intimate friends!
' And Donna Cruz; can you depend upon her ?'
' More than ever; she has promised to appear at the
meeting.'
Peyrolles stared; Gonzagues smiled in mockery.
' If Donna Cruz disappeared all at once, what is to be
done ?'
11 have enemies who might do such a thing. She has
existed) that is enough. The members of the tribunal have
seen her.'
* Is it P' began the factotum,
' We shall see many things to-night, proud Peyrolles,' an-
swered Gonzagues. ' The princess might have seen the
regent without the slightest injury to me. I have the papers.
I have better still—my liberty. After having been accused of
murder—accused implicitly—I have manoeuvred for a whole
day. The regent, without intention, has made me d giant.
Zounds! the time seems long; I am in haste.'
' Then,' said Peyrolles, humbly, ' you are very sure of
succeeding, prince ?'
Gonzagues' only answer was a proud smile.
* In that ease,' asked Peyrolles, 'why this assembly of allies?
In your drawing-room I saw all our friends assembled. Armed
to the teeth, too.'
' They are there in obedience to Orders,' answered Gon-
zagues.
' Then you fear a struggle ?'
'With us in Italy,' replied Gonzagues, in a light tone,
'our -greatest generals never neglect to sober their men.
There may be a reverse of the medal. These gentlemen
are my vanguard. Have they been waiting a long
time ?'
'I know not. They saw me pass and did not speak.'
' How do they look ?'
' Like beaten curs, or schoolboys in disgrace.'
' Are all there P'
'Yes, all except Chaverny.'
' Priend Peyrolles,' said Gonzagues, ' whilst you were in
GENTLEMEff. 335
prison something happened; if I chose to speak, you, as brave
as you are, might be alarmed.'
4 If you would deign, prince, to tell me,' said Peyrolles, al-
ready trembling.
4 It would tire me to relate it twice,' rejoined Gonzagues j
41 will tell it to all my company at once.'
4 Shall I inform these gentlemen ?' asked Peyrolles, quickly.
Gonzagues gave him a scrutinising glance.
4 By Heaven!' he muttered, 41 wont p.ut you in the way of
temptation. You would escape.'
He rang; a servant appeared.
4 Let those gentlemjen who are waiting come in,' he ordered.
Then turning to Peyrolles, confounded, he added, 41 think it
was you who said the other day, in the heat of your zeal,
4 Prince, we will follow you even to hell!' Well 1 we are oh the
way. Let us go on merrily.'
CHAPTEE LII.
gentlemen.
Theke was not much difference among the Prince Gonzagues'
allies. Chaverny was a speck among them. Chaverny had
felt for the prince a speck of real devotion. Chaverny put
aside, there remained only his friend Navailles, whom the
brilliant qualities of Gonzagues had somewhat dazzled;
Choisy and Noc6, who were gentlemen in manners and edu-
cation j all the rest, in attaching themselves to the prince, had
listened only to the voice of interest or ambition. Oriol, the
fat little stockbroker ,* Tavanne, the Baron de Batz, and tlio
others would have sold Gonzagues for a song. These last wero
not in truth wicked; there was not in fact one really wicked
among them. They were only infatuated gamblers. Gon*
zagues had taken them for what they were. They had
walked in his path, willingly at first, now by force. Evil did
not please them, but it was danger that for the most part
cooled their zeal. Gonzagues knew this perfectly. Ho would
not have exchanged them for the most hardened villains.
They suited his purpose best. They entered all together.
What struck them at first was the disconsolate appoarance of
the factotum, and the haughty look of his master. During
the hour they had been waiting in the drawing-room all kinds
of hypotheses had been broached. Gonzagues' position had
been subject to severe scrutiny. Some of them had come with
the intention of lurking off, for the last night had left secret
impressions; but there was nothing talked of at court ex-
cept the high favour of Gonzagues with the regent. His
star was at its zenith. It was not the moment to turn one s
336
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
back to the sun. Rumours, it is true, were rife. To-day the
street Quincampoix and the Golden House were yery busy
about the Prince Gonzagues. It was said tbat reports bad
reached the regent, and that during this night of debauch,
which had ended in bloodshed, the walls of the pavilion
had been of glass. But one fact prevailed over all—the
court of the Inquisition had passed sentence. Henry de
Lagardere was condemned to death. There were none of these
gentlemen who did not know a little of past events. Gon-
zagues must be all-powerful. Choisy had brought strange
news. That very morning the Marquis of Chaverny had been
seized at his mansion, placed in a carriage, and escorted by a
guard, the end of the journey being the Chatelet, which he
entered by a passport called a secret order. There had not
been much talk of Chaverny, because everyone thought only
of himself, and suspected his neighbour. But the general
feeling was unmistakable; it was great weariness and infinite
disgust. They wished to stop on the inclined planes. Among
Gonzagues' followers perhaps there] was not one that came
that evening without the secret intention to break off the
compact.
Peyrolles had said the truth; they were literally equipped
for service, booted and spurred, with weapons of war and
travelling cloaks. Gonzagues, in calling them together, had
enacted this dress, and it did not a little add to the disquieting
feelings that overwhelmed them.
'Cousin,' said JNavailles, who entered first, 'here we are,
once again at your orders.'
Gonzagues nodded to him with a smile, and air of protec-
tion. The rest bowed with the usual respect. Gonzagues
did not invite them to be seated. His glance surveyed them
all. 'It is well,' he said, between his teeth; 'not one is
wanting.'
'There are wanting,' said Hoc6, 'Albret, Gironne, and
Chaverny.'
There was a pause; all awaited the master's reply.
Gonzagues frowned slightly. ' Gironne and Tavanne,' he
answered dryly, ' have done their duty.'
' Pest!' said Havailles, ' the funeral oration is short, cousin.
"VYe are only subject to the king.'
'In regard to Chaverny,' replied Gonzagues, 'he was
scrupulous in his part, so I dismissed him.'
'Pray, prince,' said Navailles, ' will you have the goodness
to tell me what you mean by the word ' dismissed ;' we have
been told of the 'Bastile.'
'The Bastile, .gentlemen,' murmured the prince, whose
smile became positively cruel, • the Bastile is large ; there is
GENTLEMEN.
337
room for many besides.' Oriol at tbis moment would bave
given bis rank in all its freshness, bis beloved nobility, the
half of his shares, and all Nivelle's love, to awake from this
nightmare. Peyrolles held the corner of the mantelpiece, sad,
silent, motionless. Navailles questioned his companions with
a glance.
' Gentlemen,' said Gonzagues, suddenly changing his tone,
' I advise you not to trouble yourselves about Chaverny or
anyone else. You will have enough to do to think of your-
selves.' His fierce looks as he glanced upon them made all
eyes look down.
'Cousin,' said Navailles, 'each of your words seems a
threat.'
'Cousin,' answei'ed Gonzagues, 'my words are simple
enough; it is not I but fate that threatens.'
' What has happened ?' asked several voices at once.
'Hot much. It is nearly the end of the game, I need all
my cards. As the circle involuntarily drew closer, Gonza-
gues waved them off with an almost regal motion of his hand,
and placing himself with his back to the fireplace, assumed the
attitude of an orator. ' The family tribunal meets this even-
ing, his royal highness will preside.'
'We know that, prince,' said Taranne, 'and this made us
the more astonished at your desiring us to assume this dress ;
it is not thus one appears in such an assembly.' .
' Quite right,' said Gonzagues; ' also, I do not need you
there.'
A cry of surprise burst from them all. They looked at
each other. Navailles said,' Are we to fight, then ?'
' Perhaps,' replied Gonzagues.
'Prince,' pronounced Navailles, resolutely, 'I speak only
for myself.'
' Do not trouble even to speak for yourself, cousin,' inter-
rupted Gonzagues; 'you have put your foot on a sliding
plane, I need not even push you to make you fall; I warn
you, it would suffice for me to let go your hand. If you wish
to speak, Navailles, wait only till I have clearly placed before
you the position we all are in.'
' I will wait, prince,' murmured the young nobleman, ' for
your explanation; but I warn you, we also have reflected
since yesterday.'
Gonzagues looked at him for an instant with a compassion-
ate air; then he appeared to consider. ' I do not need you
at the tribunal, gentlemen,' he said again; ' I need you else-
where. Court dresses and swords are useless for the-work
that remains to be done. Sentence of death has been passed,
but you have the Spanish proverb, " Between the cup and
338
T11K DUKES MOTTO.
the lip come the axe and the neck." There the executioner'
waits for his victim.'
'LagardereP' interrupted ISToce.
'Or myself!' said Gonzagues, coldly.
'You, you! prince!' resounded from all sides.
Peyrolles started up scared.
' Do not tremble,' continued the prince, who smiled still
more haughtily; 'the executioner has not the choice; but with
such a devil—I mean Lagardere, who has found means to make
himself friends even from the depth of his dungeon, I know
but one means of safety—that is, six feet of earth over his
corpse. As long as he is alive, his arms fettered but his fnind
free, as long as his'mouth can open and his tongue articulate,
so long must we have our hands on our swords, our feet in
the stirrup, and take care of our heads.'
' Our heads!' repeated Hoce, drawing back.
' 13y Heaven!' cried Havailles, 'this goes too far, prince;
as long as you spoke for yourself--'
'In faith,' growled Oriol, 'the game goes ill; I give
it up.'
He made a step towards the door; it was open, and in
tho vestibule, which gave entrance to the grand chamber,
were soldiers under arms. Oriol drew back, Taranne shut
the door.
' This does not concern you, gentlemen,' said Gonzagues ;
' you need not be alarmed; these guards belong to his royal
highness; and to leave this room, you need not pass that way.
I said our heads, and that seems to have given you offence.'
' Prince,' interrupted Navailles, 'you go beyond all bounds;
threats will not 6top people like us. "We have been your
faithful friends, whilst we could, as gentlemen, follow in your
path. How, as it has come to the executioner and his satellites,
farcw ell, prince.'
' Farewell, prince,' cried all.
Gonzagues Smiled bitterly. ' And you too, my Peyrolles!' he
said, seeing the factotum gliding in among the fugitives.
' Oh, how well I had seen through you, my masters. "Well!
my faithful friends, to use the words of Monsieur de Havailles,
one word more. Where are you going P Is it necessary to
inform you that that is the straight road to the Bastile.'
Havailles had already his hand on the door-handle. He
stopped, and put his hand to his sword. Gonzagues laughed.
His arms were crossed upon his breast, he alone stood calm
amid all these scared countenances.
'Don't you see,'he continued, with disdainful looks, 'don't
you see, honest folks as you are, that I awaited you there ?
Were you not told that I had the regent to myself from
GENTLEMEN.
339
eight till noon ? Don't you know that the wind of favour
blows a hurricane towards me ? Such a hurricane, that may
perhaps throw me over; hut I swear it shall first do its work
on you, my faithful friends. If this is my last day of in-
fluence, I have nothing to reproach myself with; I have well
employed my last day. Your names form a list which is in
Monsieur de Machault's desk. One word, and this list only
contains the names of noblemen; another word, this list con-
tains the names of outlaws.'
'We will run the chance,' said Navailles.
But this was said in a low tone, and the others remained
silent.
'Wewill follow you, wo will follow you, prince,' continued
Gonzagues, repeating the words they had used only a few
days before. 'We will follow you, obediently, blindly,
valiantly. We will make a sacred band round you. Who
sang this song, the tune of which all traitors know? Was it
you or I ? But at the first murmur of the storm, I seek in vain
a soldier, a faithful soldier, in the sacred band. Where are
you, my faithful friends ? Already in flight. Not yet; and
by Heaven! I am behind you, and my sword shall pierce the
first that flies. Silence, cousin Navailles,' he continued, see-
ing the other was about to speak. ' I have no more patience
to listen to your rodomontades. You all gave yourselves to
me of your own free will, and without reserve; I accepted
you, and I keep you. Ah! ah! say you, it is too much! Ah!
ah! we will not overstep these limits. Ah! ah! must we
choose our paths expressly for you to be able to walk in them,
gentlemen ? Ah! ah! yOu put me off to Gautier Gendry, the
headsman; you, Navailles, who live upon me ! you, Taranne,
stuffed with my benefits! you, Oriol, the buffoon, who thinks
to pass for a man! You all, in fact, my clients, my creatures,
my slaves, since you have sold yourselves, since I have
bought you.'
He looked above them all, and his eyes flashed fire.
' These things do not concern you,' he continued, in a vibra-
ting tone ; ' you wish me to speak for myself. I swear by
Heaven! my virtuous friends, that these things do concern you,
seriously, intimately, principally; in truth, at this moment
I have given you your portion of the cake ; you bit it greedily ;
so much the worse for you if the cake was poisoned. Your
mouthful' is not les3 bitter than mine. This belongs to that
high morality of which I know nothing. Is it not so ? Baron
de Batz, rigid philosopher as you are, you clung to me, hand
and foot, tooth and nail. Wherefore ? apparently to mount
to my level. Mount, then, in Heaven's name ! mount. Do you
feel dizzy ? Mount! mount! even to the scaffold.'
340
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
There was a universal shudder. All eyes were fixed on
the demoniacal expression in Gonzagues' face.
Oriol, whose trembling limbs knocked against each other,
repeated the last words, ' the scaffold.'
Gonzagues crushed him with a look of supreme contempt.
' The cord, for you, scoundrel,' he said, harshly.
Then turning towards Navailles, Choisy, and the rest,
whom he saluted with a mocking air—' Who,' he continued,
' who, gentlemen, who are of noble blood P'
He stopped short, and looked at them derisively, and then
as if his disdain had burst through all bounds, he went on—
' Gentlemen, you Noce, the son of a brave soldier, courteous in
manner; you, Choisy, gentleman; Montaubert, also; Na-
vailles, the same; you Baron de Batz.'
'Zounds!' muttered the latter.
' Peace, fool! Gentlemen, I defy you to look at yourselves,
not without laughing at the augurs of ancient Kome, but with-
out blushing to the eyes. You! gentlemen, you! Ho, no!
rather clever tradespeople, braver with the pen than the sword.
To-night ' His face changed; he walked towards them
slowly. Each one stepped back. 'To-night!' he repeated,
lowering his voice ; ' it is not yet dark enough to conceal your
white faces; look well at each other, shuddering, uneasy,
taken as in a trap between my victory and my ruin—my vie-
tnry, which becomes yours; my ruin, which will involve yours.'
He" had reached the door reaching to the vestibule where were
the regent's guards. He touched the handle in his turn. ' I
have said it!' he said coldly, ' repentance expiates everything,
and you seem to me to have thought better of it. You may,
make yourselves martyrs by crossing this threshold. Shall
I open the doorP'
' What are we to do, prince P' asked Havailles the first.
Gonzagues eyed them narrowly, one after the other. ' You
also, cousin HavaillesP' asked Gonzagues.
' Let the prince say what we are to do,' said Havailles,
pale and his eyes fixed on the ground.
Gonzagues held out his hand, and addressing them all in
the tone of a father who unwillingly chides his children—
' Fools that you arc !' he said ; ' you are already within sight
of land, and you will founder for want of another stroke with
the oar. Listen to me and repent. Whatever may be the
fate of the combat, I have beforehand provided for your
safety. To-morrow the lightest in Paris, or loaded with gold
and full of hope on the road to Spain. The king Philip ex-
poets us, and who knows if Alberoni will not throw down the
Alps in another sense from what Louis XIY. intended. At
this very hour,' he said, consulting his watch, 'Lagardcre
GENTLEMEN.
341
leaves the prison of the Chatelet for the Bastile, where will
he enacted the last scene of the drama. But he will not go
there at once. His sentence is that he should do penance at
Nevers' tomb. We have against us two women and a priest;
your swords can do nothing against them. No! a third woman,
Donna Cruz, hovers between both parties ; at least, so I am
given to understand. She is quite ready to be a fine lady,
but wishes no harm to come to her friend. Poor plaything,
that will be broken. The two women are the Princess Gon-
zague's and her pretended daughter, Aurora. I want this
Aurora; therefore I have let the plot that puts her in our
power go on so far. This is the programme. The mother,
the daughter, and the priest await Lagardere at the Church
Sainte Magloire, the daughter dressed as a bride. I have
guessed, as you would in my place, that some drama is to be
got up to impose on the regent's clemency; a marriage on the
brink of the grave, then the virgin widow to throw herself at
the regent's feet. This must not take place. The first half
of your task.'
' That is easy,' said Montaubert; ' only to prevent the
comedy from being acted.'
' You will be there and defend the entrance to the church;
second half of your task. Now, supposing that luck goes
against us, and that we are obliged to fly, I have gold sufli-
cient for us all; on this point I pledge my honour. I have
an order from the king, which will open to us all barriers.'
He unrolled the warrant, and showed D'Argenson's signature.
'But I want more,' he continued ; .' we must carry off with us
our loving ransom, our hostage.'
' Aurora de Nevers!' cried several voices.
' Between you and her there will be only a church-door.'
'But behind this door,' said Montaubert, 'if the odds are
against us, there will perhaps be Lagardere.'
' And I before Lagardere,' answered Gonzagues, solemnly.
He clasped his sword violently. ' The hour is come,' he said,
' to trust to these; my blade equals his. It has been steeped
in Nevers' blood.'
Peyrolles turned away his head ; this open avowal of guilt
proved that his master was burning his ships.
A great noise was beard from the hall, and the ushers cried
out—' The regent! Make way for the regent!'
Gonzagues opened the door of the library. ' Gentlemen !'
he said, coolly pressing the bands of those near him, 'in half
an hour all will be over. If things go on well, you have
only to prevent the escort from mounting the steps of the
church. In case of need, call on the mob for help, crying out
' Sacrilege.' That is one of the words never without effect.
342 THE DUItE's MOTl'O.
If things go wrong,—be very attentive bere,—from the ceme-
tery, where you will go and wait for me, the windows of the
grand chamber are visible. Have always an eye on the win-
dows. When you see one of the lights raised and lowered
three times in succession, force open the door, and to the
attack. One minute after the given signal, I shall be with
you. Is it agreed?'
' It is agreed,' answered all.
'Hollow, then, Peyrolles, who knows the way,and take the
path to the cemetery, through the gardens of the palace.'
They went out.
Gonzagues, left alone, wiped his forehead. ' Man or devil!'
he muttered,' Lagardere shall catch it now.'
He traversed the hall to enter the audience-chamber. ' A
fine thing for a little adventurer,' he said to himself, stopping
before a glass; ' the head of a founding or the head of a
prince. It is all a lottery; let us go and draw.'
Behind the closed door of the church of Sainte Magloire,
the Princess Gonzagues supported her daughter dressed as a
bride. The priest was also there in his sacerdotal garments.
."Donna Cruz was on her knees praying. In the shade were
three armed men ; eight o'clock struck, and in the distance
was heard the tolling of the bell at the Sainte Chapelle, an-
nouncing the departure of the condemned. The prineess felt
her heart breaking. She looked at Aurora, whiter than a
statue of marble. Aurora had a calm smile on her face.
' The hour is come, dear mother,' she said.
The princess kissed her forehead.
' "We must part,' she murmured: 'I know it But it
seemed you were in safety while my hand held yours.'
' Madame,' said Donna Cruz, ' we will protect her; the
Marquis Chaverny has promised to die in her defence.'
'By my faith!' murmured one of the three men, 'the
young lady makes no account of us, comrade.'
The princess, instead of going straight to the door, went
iowards the group formed of Chaverny, Cocardasse, and
Passepoil.
'Zounds !' said the Gascon, before she could utter a word,
' here is a little gentleman who is the devil himself when he
chooses. lie will fight under the eyes of his lady-love. But
we two, that rascal Passepoil and I, will lay down our lives
for Lagardere. That is settled! So you can go about your
business.'
343
CHAPTEll LIII.
the dead speaks.
The grand chamber of the Palace Gonzagues was brilliant
with lights. In the court were heard the horses of the Savoy
Hussars. The hall was full of guards ; the Marquis de
Bonnevet and his party guarded the door. It was evident
that the regent wished to give to this family tribunal all the
importance and solemnity possible. The seats in a line on
the platform were occupied as on the preceding day—the
same dignitaries of the State, the same magistrates and nobles.
Only behind the arm-chair of Lemoignon sat the regent on a
kind of throne; Le Blanc, Yoyer d'Argen^on, and the Count
of Toulouse were around him. The position of the other
members was changed. When the princess entered she was
placed near the Cardinal Bissy, who was now seated on the
right of the president. On the contrary, the Prince Gon-
zagues was seated before a table on which stood two candles,
on the spot where two days before was placed the princess's
chair. Placed there, Gonzagues hfcd his back to the drapery
covering the secret door, by which the hunchback had entered
at the time of the first meeting, and exactly opposite one of
•the windows facing the cemetery of Sainte Magloire, the
secret door of which the arrangers of the ceremony were not
aware was unguarded.
As a matter of course, the commercial disfigurement which
so lately disgraced this noble building had completely disap-
peared. Thanks to draperies and hangings, even the slightest
traces of them had disappeared. The Prince Gonzagues, who
entered before his wife, bowed respectfully to the president
and the assembly. It was remarked that his royal highness
returned his salutation by a familiar nod.
It was the Count de Toulouse, son of Louis XIY., who
bent forward and handed the princess to her seat at the re-
gent's express desire. The regent went forward two or three
steps to meet her, and kissed her hand.
'Your royal highness,' she said, ' did not deign to receive
me.'
She stopped on seeing the astonished look of the Duke of
Orleans. Gonzagues watched them attentively while he pre-
tended to busy himself with the papers on his table, among
which was the large rolls of parchment sealed with three
seals.
'Your royal highness,' said the princess again, 'did net
deign to take into consideration my message.'
344
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
' "What message?' asked the regent, in a low voice.
The princess's glance involuntarily turned towards her
husband—4 My letter must have been intercepted,' she began.
4 Madame,' interrupted the regent, suddenly, 4 nothing has
been done ; everything remains as it was; act without fear,
according to the dictates of your own conscience. In future
no one shall come between us both.' Then raising his voice,
he said, 4 It is a great day for you, madame; and it is not only
on your husband's account that I wished to assist at this
family council. The hour of Nevers' vengeance is at hand,
his murderer will expiate his guilt on the scaffold.'
4 Ah, prince,' began Madame de Gonzagues, 'had your
highness only received my letter.'
The regent led her to a seat.
4 All that you may ask,' he murmured, rapidly, ' I will grant.
J3e seated, gentlemen, I beg,' he uttered aloud.
He returned to his scat. The President Lemoignon whis-
pered something to him.
4 In order,' answered the prince. 4 Everything shall be done
in order, and I hope we may have at last the pleasure of sa-
luting the true heiress of JNevers.'
Thus saying, he seated himself and put on his hat, leaving
the direction of the meeting to the president.
The president signed for the Prince Gonzagues to address
the assembly. A strange circumstance occurred. The wind
blew from the south. Prom time to time the bell that was
tolling in the Sainte Chapelle gave suddenly a plaintive sound,
and seemed so noar, as it it were tolled in the hall. There
was also a vague murmur from without. The bell had col-
looted a crowd, and the crowd lined the neighbouring streets.
"When Gonzagues arose to speak, the bell tolled so loudly that
it obliged him to pause for several seconds. Without, the
crowd cheered the bell.
'Prince and gentlemen,' began Gonzagues, 'my life has
always been clear and open. Dark intrigues have always had
fair game in me, because I never discover them, merely be-
cause I am wanting in one talent, that of deception. You
have quite recently seen me seek for truth with a sort of
passion. This great ardour has slightly cooled. I am wearied
with the accusations that are secretly heaped upon me. Iam
wearied of meeting for ever in my path blind suspicion or
abject and cowardly calumny. I have presented here one
whom I affirmed, whom I still persist in affirming, is the true
heiress of JNTevers. I look for her in vain in the place where
she ought to be here. His royal highness knows that.I only
this morning laid down the charge of being her guardian.
Whether she comes or comes not, it matters little to me. I
THE DEAD SPEAKS.
345
have only one desire, that of proving to all on which side in
this affair are good faith, honour, and greatness of mind.'
He took from the table the roll of parchment, and added,
holding it in his hand—' I bring forward the proof spoken of
by the princess herself, the leaf torn from the registry of the
chapel of Caylus. It is here, under a triple seal. As I lay
down my deeds, let the princess also bring forward hers.'
He sat down, after again saluting the assembly.
Some whispering took place on the platform.
Gonzagues had no longer the warm applause that he had
received in the former sitting. But what need ? Gonzagues
desired nothing but to give proof of his honour. There on
the table lies the proof which no one can refute.
'We await,' said the regent, bending forward between the
President Lemoignon and the Marechal Yilleroy—' we await
the princess's answer.'
' If the princess had only confided to me her proofs,' said
the cardinal '
Aurora de Caylus rose. 'Your highness,' she began, 'I
have my daughter, and I have the proofs of her birth. Look
at me,' she said ; ' you all saw my tears, and you will under-
stand by my joy that I have found my child.'
' These proofs of which you speak ' began the president.
' These proofs will be submitted to the council,' interrupted
the princess, ' as soon as his royal highness shall have granted
the humble petition of Hevers' widow. The princess turned
a determined glance on Gonzagues. ' Friendship is a grand,
a beautiful thing; all those who take an interest in me for the
last two days repeat to me—' Do not accuse your husband.'
That signifies, no doubt, that an illustrious friendship makes
around the prince an impenetrable rampart. Then I accuse
no one, but only say that I addressed to his royal highness a
humble petition, and that some hand has turned it aside.'
Gonzagues smiled with calm resignation.
' What do you desire from us, madame ?' asked the regent.
' I appealed, prince, to another friendship,' answered the
princess; ' I did not accuse, I implored. I said to your high-
ness that the reparation at the tomb did not suffice.'
Gonzagues' countenance changed.
' I told your royal highness,' continued Madame de Gon-
zagues, ' that there was another reparation more worthy,
more complete; and I entreated him to command that here,
in Nevers' hotel, on this very spot, the condemned should on
his knees hear his sentence.'
Gonzagues was obliged to shut his eyes to conceal his joy.
The princess spoke falsely, Gonzagues knew full well, as he
had her letter in his pocket. In this letter the princess
340
THE CUKE'S MOTTO.
attested Lagardere's innocence, and solemnly vouched fpr the
fact on her own responsibility. This was all. Now where-
fore this falsehood ? What battery was hidden behind this
audacious stratagem. Tor the first time in his life Gonzagues
had that shiver of the frame which is caused by a terrible but
unknown danger. The abyss was there, but how to avoid it.
It was so dark, and each step might precipitate him to the
bottom. With a strong effort he maintained his composure.
He waited.
' It is unusual,' began the President Lemoignon.
Gonzagues could have hugged him.
' What reason can the princess give ?' began the Marechal
Villeroy.
' I address myself to his royal highness,' interrupted the
princess. ' Justice took eighteen years to find Nevers' mur-
derer; justice owes something to the victim who so long
awaited vengeance. Mademoiselle de Nevers, my daughter,
cannot enter this house publicly until this satisfaction has
been had ; and I refuse all joy until I see in this chamber,
hung with the portraits of Nevers' ancestors, the murderer of
Nevers openly, publicly disgraced.'
There wa3 a pause. The President Lemoignon shook his
head as a sign of refusal. The regent had not yet spoken,
he seemed in deep thought.
'What can she expect from this.man's presence?' Gon-
zagues asked himself. A cold sweat covered his brow, he
even regretted the absence of his allies.
' What on this subject is the opinion of the Prince Gon-
zagues ?' asked the Duke of Orleans, suddenly.
Gonzagues, as a prelude to his -words, called to his lips a
smile of indifference. 'If I had an opinion,' he replied.
' And why should I have an opinion on such a trifle P I should
appear to wish to refuse the princess. With the exception
of the delay in the execution of the sentence, I see neither
good nor harm in granting her request.'
' There will be no delay,' said the princess, who was listen-
ing to the noise outside.
'Do you know where to take the criminal?' asked the
Duke of Orleans.
' Your highness,' protested the President Lemoignon.
' In slightly transgressing forms, sir,' answered the duke,
drily yet earnestly, ' we are sometimes able to amend the
foundation.'
The princess, instead of answering his royal highness's
question, had pointed towards the window. A confused noise
was heard without.
' The criminal is not far off,' murmured Yoyer d'Argen9on.
TJriJS DEAD SPEAKS.
347
The regent called the Marquis of Bonnivet, whispered
a few words to him. Bonnivet bowed and went out. The
princess had returned to her seat. Gonzagues glanced around
with a look, which he hoped was calm, but his lips trembled
and his eyes burned. There was a great clashing of arms in
the hall. Every one rose involuntarily, so great was the
curiosity and interest excited by the bold adventurer, whose
history had for the last four-and-twenty hours been the
universal theme of conversation. Some few had seen him
when the regent had broken his sword, but to most of the
assembly he was personally unknown.
When the door opened, and he stood on the threshold, an
expression of calm dignity on his handsome features and
noble bearing, even surrounded as he was by soldiers, and
his hands tied ignominiously before him, there was a general
murmur. The regent had his eyes fixed on Gonzagues.
Gonzagues was motionless. Lagardere was led to the foot of
the tribunal. The usher followed with the sentence, which,
according to custom, was to be read in part at Nevers' tomb,
when the right hand was to be cut off; and the remainder at
the Bastile, before the execution.
'Bead!' commanded the regent.
The usher unrolled his parchment The substance of the
sentence was to the effect—
' Listen! criminal, witnesses, king's advocate, and others.
In accordance with proofs and pleadings, the Chamber of the
Inquisition passes sentence on Henri de Lagardere, callihg
himself a knight, convicted of the crime of murder, com-
mitted on the person of the right honourable and noble
Prince Philip of Loraine Elbeuf, Duke of Nevers. Eirstty,
Henri de Lagardere is condemned to have the right hand cut
off at the tomb of the aforesaid Prince Philip of Nevers, in
the cemetery of Sainte Magloire; secondly, that he should
lose his head by; the. hand of the executioner in the court-
yard of the Bastile.'
The usher having finished, retired behind the soldiers.
' Have you satisfaction, madame ?' asked the regent.
The princess arose so suddenly, that Gonzagues did the
same, unconsciously. It seemed as if he had received a
violent shock.
' Speak, Lagardere !' cried the princess, a prey to uncon-
querable excitement—' speak, my son.'
It was as if the whole assembly had received an electric
shock. Every one waited for something strange, unheard of.
The regent stood up; the blood mounted to his face.
' Ho you tremble, Philip ?' he asked, his eyes fixed on
Gonzagues.
348
THE DUKE*S MOTTO.
'No, by Heaven!' cried the prince, insolently ; 'neither
to-day nor ever.'
The regent turned to Lagardere. ' Speak!' he said.
' Your highness,' pronounced the condemned man, in a
calm, musical voice, ' the sentence which condemns me is
without appeal. You yourself have no power to pardon, and
I—I do not ask for pardon. But you have the right to do
justice; I ^sk for justice!'
It was strange to see the strong emotion marked on all the
faces of the old men that formed that august assembly. The
President Lemoignon moved in spite of himself, for there
was. in the contrast of the two faces—Lagardere's and Gon-
zagues'—some strange meaning.
The president, in his own despite, murmured,' To change
a decree of the Chamber of the Inquisition, the confession of
the criminal is needed.'
' We shall have the confession of the criminal,' avswered
Lagardere.
' Make haste, friend,' said the regent; ' I am in haste.'
' I also, your highness,' answered Lagardere;' but suffer me
first to say, all that I have promised I have made good. I
swore that, at the peril of my life, I would return to the •
Princess Gon zagues the child she confided to my care long
years ago. I have done so.'
' And may you be blessed a thousand times,' murmured
the princess. •
' I swore to deliver myself up to justice after four-and-twenty
hours of freedom. At the given hour I gave up my sword.'
' That is true,' answered the regent; ' since then I have
had my eye upon you and upon others.'
Gonzagues ground his teeth. He thought the regent him-
self in the plot.
' Thirdly,' continued Lagardere, ' I swore that I Avould
establish my innocence by publicly denouncing the criminal.
I am here to keep my oath.'
Gonzagues still held in his hand the roll of parchment,
scaled with the three red seals stolen by him from the Hue
du Chantre.
' Your highness,' said the latter, roughly, ' it seems to me
the farce has lasted long enough.'
' You have not been accused?' interrupted the regent.
' An accusation from the mouth of that wretch!' cried
Gonzagues, with affected disdain.
' This wretch is about to die,' said the regent, in a severe
tone. ' The words of the dying are sacred.'
' If you know not already what his words are worth,' cried
the Italian, ' I am silent. But I warn all here, gentlemen,
THE DEAD SPEAKS.
349
nobles, princes, kings, Ave seated upon the high places of this
earth, the ground is crumbling beneath our feet. The pastime
that your highness is now taking is a fearful precedent. To
suffer that such a wretch ' (Lagardere slowly turned to-
wards him.) ' To suffer that such a wretch, without witnesses
or proofs '
Lagardere made one step towards him—' I have witnesses
and proofs,' he said.
' Where are your witnesses ?' cried Gonzagues, whose eyes
wandered round the Chamber.
' You need not seek them,' said the condemned man. ' My
witnesses are two :-the first is present, and is yourself.'
Gonzagues tried a scornful laugh, but his effort only pro-
duced a fearful convulsion. ' The second,' continued Lagar-
dfere,' whose calm, fixed gaze enveloped the prince like a net;
' the second is in the tomb.'
' Those who are "in the tomb are dumb,' said Gonzagues.
'They speak when it is God's will,' replied Lagardere.
Around them was a silence so deep that it oppressed the
heart and freezed the blood. It would not have been every
one who could have silenced scepticism in those scornful
hearts. Nine out of ten would have met only with ridicule
and mockery, in thus seeking support from things beyond this
world. The age was in doubt, doubt reigned supreme, it
reigned in the frivolous, witty, in things of general converse-
tion, as well as in the pompous parade of philosophical
1 opening tombs, bloody winding-
only peals of laughter. But Lagardere spoke. The actor
made the play. The calm tone of that manly voice vibrated
in the inmost recesses of those torpid and withered hearts.
The noble pride of innocence on that handsome yet pale face
froze the smile on every lip. They were scared by that earnest
gaze under which Gonzagues writhed in torture. Lagardere
could, from the height of his powerful, all-absorbing passion
defy mockery; he could evoke phantoms even in the
eighteenth century, even at the court of the regent, even
before the regent himself. No one could escape the fearful
influence of that strife. All mouths were open, all ears intent.;
when Lagardere paused all drew a long breath.
' Thus far for the witnesses,' continued Lagardere ; ' the
dead will speak—I swear it. In regard to my proofs, they are
there in your hands, Monsieur de Gonzagues. The testimony
to my innocence is in that envelope trebly sealed. Can you
refuse to believe in the fate that overwhelms you ?
' You have yourself brought forward this parchment, the
instrument of your own fall. You cannot withdraw
previous century, elicited now
350
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
it; justice now elaitns it, and justice presses you on all sides.
To obtain that weapon, that in which to pierce you, you
stole into my dwelling like a midnight thief. You broke
open my doors and ransacked my strong box. You! the
Prince Gonzagues.'
'Your highness,' cried the latter, whose eyes Were blood-
shot, ' command silence.'
' Defend yourself, prince!' cried Lagardere, in a pene-
trating tone; ' and do not ask any one to stop my mouth. We
shall both be allowed to speak, because death is between us,
and his royal highness has said, ' The words of the dying are
sacred.''
He held his head high. Gonzagues mechanically clutched
the parchment which he had just placed on the table.
' That is it,' cried Lagard&re ; ' the time is come. Break the
seals! Why do you tremble ? It is only, a piece of parch-
ment—the registry of the birth of Mademoiselle de Nevers.'
' Break the seals !' ordered the regent.
Gonzagues' hands trembled violently. Whether accidentally
or designedly, Bonnivet and two of his men had approached
him. They stood between the table and the tribunal, all
three turned towards the regent as if waiting for his orders.
Gonzagues had not yet obeyed, the seals remained entire.
Lagardere advanced a step towards the table, his eyes
flashing fire—' You gues3 there is something besides,' he said,
lowering his voice. And all the eager faces bent forward to
listen. ' I will tell you what there is. On the back of the
parchment three lines written in blood. Thus speak those
that are in the tomb.'
Gonzagues trembled from head to foot, his mouth foamed.
The regent, leaning entirely over Villeroy's head, had his
hand resting on the table of the presidency.
Lagardhre's voice sounded hollow amid the deep emotion
of the assembly. He continued: 'For eighteen years the
veil of mystery has hung over this deed. Heaven willed
not that the voice of the avenger should arise in solitude.
Here, in the assembly of the nobles of the land, presided over
by the chief of the Slaie; this is the moment. Nevers was
close to me on the night of his murder. It was before the
combat—one minute -before. Already he could see the
swords of the assassins gleaming in the distance. Then with
his fiuger dipped in his own blood, he traced on the scroll
you hold three lines which proclaimed beforehand the in-
tended crime and the name of his murderer.'
Gonzagues' teeth chattered in his head. He drew back to
the other side of the table; his contracted fingers sought to
crush the envelope that scorched him. Wlieu he reached the
THE DEAD SPEAKS.
351
third candle, he raised and lowered it thrice; the signal agreed
on with his allies.
* Look!' whispered the Cardinal Bissy to Monsieur de Mont-
mart; ' he has taken leave of his senses.'
No one else uttered a word. They were all breathless with
excitement.
' The name is there, the true name,' continued Lagardere,
raising his fettered hands towards the parchment. 4 Break
open the envelope, and the dead will speak.'
Gonzagues, with seared eyes and forehead bathed in perspi-
ration, gave a savage glance towards the tribunal.
Bonnivet and his men concealed him. He turned his back
to the candle, and, his trembling hand behind him, tried to set
fire to the paper. The envelope caught fire.
Lagardere saw him, but Lagardere, instead of denouncing
him, cried out—'Bead! read aloud. Let everyone know
whether the name of the assassin is yours or mine.'
' ' He burns the envelope,' cried V illeroy, who heard the
crackling of the parchment. It was one immense acclamation
as Bonnivet and the two guards turned round. He had burnt
the envelope—the envelope that contained the name of the
murderer. The regent rushed forward.
Lagardere, pointing to the parchment, the remains of which
were yet smouldering on the floor, cried out—' The dead has
spoken.'
' What was there written on it ?' cried the regent, whose
emotion was at its height; ' Say quickly; you will be believed,
for this man has convicted himself.'
' There was nothing,' answered Lagardere. Then, in the
midst of the general stupor, he added, in a louder tone—
' There was nothing, do you hear, Prince Gonzagues P I laid
a trap, and your tortured conscience fell into it at once. You
have burnt the parchment, which I threatened shoidd bear
evidence against you. Your name was not there, but you
have just written it yourself in large letters. It is the voice
of the dead. The dead speaks.'
' The dead has spoken,' cried all.
* In striving to destroy this proof, the murderer has con-
victed himself,' said the President Lemoignon ; ' the sentence
of the Chamber of the Inquisition can be annulled.'
Until now the regent's indignant anger had kept him silent.
All at once he exclaimed—' Murderer! assassin! seize that
man !'
As quick as lightning, Gonzagues drew his sword. With
one bound, he passed before the regent, and dealt a violent
thrust at LUgardere's breast, who fell back with a cry of pain ;
the princess received him in her arms. ' You shall not enjoy
352
the duke's motto.
your victory!' cried Gonzagues, foaming with. rage. He
turned, passed over the body of Bonnivet, and turning round,
parried the swords of the guard that were raised against him.
Just as these latter thought they had him safe against the
tapestry, Gonzagues disappeared as if by magic. The sound
of a bolt being drawn was heard from the other side of the
door.
Lagardere was the first that attacked the door ; he knew it
of old, having made use of it himself the day of the first
family council. Lagardfcre's hands were free. The treacher-
ous blow dealt him by Gonzagues had cut the cords that bound
his hands, and only inflicted a slight wound. The door was
securely fastened. As the regent gave orders for -the chase
of the fugitive, a broken voice was heard at the end of the
chamber.
' Help ! help !' it cried, and Donna Cruz, with her hair and
clothes in disorder, fell at the feet of the princess.
' My child,' cried the latter, ' something has happened to
my child !'
c Men in the cemetery,' cried the breathless gitana ; ' they
are forcing the church-door. They will carry her off.'
The whole assembly were in one vast tumult; but a voice,
like the sound of a trumpet, rose above it all.
It was Lagardere, who cried out, 'A sword ! a sword!'
The regent drew his and put it into his hand.
' Thanks, sir,' cried Lagardere ; ' open the window; call to
your guards not to slop me, for the assassin is in advance of
me, and death to any one who bars my path. He kissed the
sword, brandished it over his head, and disappeared like a
Hash of lightning.
CHAPTEB LY.
the testimony of the dead.
The executions that took place behind the walls of the
Bastile were not necessarily secret executions. The most
that could be said was that they were not public. Putting
aside those that history mentions as having taken place with-
out form of trial, under the king's seal, all the rest followed
after a trial and law proceedings more or less regular. The
yard of the Bastile was as avowed a place of legal execution
as the Place de Grevo.
Paris had then alone the privilege of cutting off heads.
There were many rumours against the Bastile, and some of
ihem were well founded. The Parisian mob especially re-
proached the Bastile for screening from its s:ght the spec-
THE TESTIMONY OF THE DEAD.
353
taele of an execution. Whoever may have passed by the
barrier Saint James the night of an execution can say
whether in our days the people of Paris are cured of their
barbarous taste for horrible emotions.
The Bastile was about to-night to hide the last agonies of
Nevers' murderer, condemned by the court of the Inquisi-
tion; but all was not lost. The reparation at the tomb of
the murdered man, and the hand cut off by the executioner,
was still something worth looking at. The tolling of the bell
at the Sainte Chapelle had set astir all the worst pests of the
city. News at that time did not travel at the speed of a
cannon-ball, as it does to-day; but perhaps this only made
people more anxious to hear and see. In a moment the
approaches to the Chatelet and the palace were filled with
people. When the procession left the Cosson gate, opening
on the curve of the Bue St. Denis, ten thousand curious
spectators already formed a hedge.
No one in the crowd knewHenriLagardere. Generally there
is some one present who recognises and gives a name to the
criminal. Here was total ignorance, but ignorance only opens
a wider field for conjecture. A hundred names were found for
one that no one knew. Conjectures clashed. In a few minutes
all crimes, political and otherwise, were heaped upon the
devoted head of the handsome soldier who walked, hand-
cuffed, by the side of his Dominican confessor, between four
guards of the Chatelet with drawn swords. The Dominican
friar, with ghastly countenance and glistening eyes, pointed
towards heaven with his leaden cross, which he brandished
like a sword. Before and behind rode the provost's archers.
Here and there was heard in the crowd, ' He comes from
Spain ; the queen gave him four thousand crowns to foment
disturbances in France.'
' Oh, oh! he seems to be listening to the friar.'
'Look, Madame Dudonit, what a handsome wig those
chestnut curls would make.'
'It is said,' was whispered in another group, 'that the
Duchess of Maine brought him to Sceaux to be her secretary.
He was to obey her implicitly. Her orders were, to carry off
the young king the night the regent gave his ball at the
Palais Boyal.'
'But what was he going to do with the young king ?'
' Carry him into Brittany, shut the regent up in the Bas-
tile, and proclaim Nantes the capital of the kingdom.'
A little further oa : ' He was watching for Mr. Law in the
Court of Fountains, and was about to stab him as he got into
his coach. What misery if he had done it—Paris would have
died of hunger!'
23
354 THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
"When the procession passed the corner of the Hue De la
Perronerie there was a scream of women's voices. The Hue
De la Perronerie was a continuation of the Hue St. Honor6.
Madame Balahault, Madame Durand, Madame Guichard,
our gossips of the Hue Du Chantre, had only to follow the
pavement to arrive there. They recognised at once the mvs-
terious carver of sword-handles, t)ame Prangoise and Jean
Marie's master.
'Oh! oh!' cried Madame Balahault, 'did I not tell you
that it would end badly P "We ought to have made it known
at once to the police, as we could never learn what was pass-
ing at his house.'
' How bold and impudent he looks !' cried La Durand.
The others spoke of the little hunchback and the beautiful
young girl who sang at the window. And all of them, in the
sincerity of their hearts, said—' One could swear he was not
a thief.'
The crowd pould not be far in advance, because no one
knew whither the procession was going. Archers and guards
are dumb. It has always been the express delight of those
useful functionaries, by their important and mysterious silence,
to drive crowds to the verge of despair. Before the market
was readied, the most knowing thought that the criminal was
to be taken to the place of the Innocents, where stood the
pillory ; but the markets were passed. The advance-guard of
the procession followed the Hue St. Denis, and only turned
off at the corner of the little Hue Sainte Magloire. The
more advanced in the crowd saw two torches there lighted,
and conjectures were more numerous than ever; but conjee-
tures were again at fault, on account of an accident, with
which our readers are already acquainted. An order from
the regent commanded the presence of the prisoner in the
audience-chamber of the Gonzagues' palace. The crowd took
up its station in the Eue Sainte Magloire, and waited. The
church of Sainte Magloire, anciently the chapel of the monas-
tery of that name, the monks of which were afterwards exiled
to Saint Jacques de Haut Pas, since a penitentiary, had a
century and a half before this time become the parish church.
It had been rebuilt in 1630, and Monsieur, the brother of
Louis XIII., had laid the first stone. It consisted of one
small nave, and was situated in the largest cemetery in Paris.
The hospital on the east had also a public chapel, which gave
the name of the Street of the Two Churches to the narrow lane
running from the Hue Magloire to the Hue Aux Oure. A
wall surrounded the cemetery, which had three entrances:
the principal one from the Hue Sainte Magloire ; the second
in the Street of the Two Churches; and the third on a blind
the testimony of the dead.
3 55
alley without a name, which led back towards the Rue
Sainte Magloire behind the church, and close to which was
Gonzagues* folly, the pavilion previously described. Besides
these there was a breach in the wall, through which used to
be carried the cal^jhe of Saint Gervais. The church—poor
and little frequented—still extant at the beginning of this
century, opened on the Rue St. Denis, on the same spot
where now stands No. 166. It had two entrances towards the
cemetery. Already for some years there were no longer
burials in the church. The greater part of the dead were
already taken out of Paris for burial. Four or five noble
families alone Tiad their vaults still in the cemetery of Sainte
Magloire; and especially the Nevers, whose funeral chapel
was an heirloom. We have said that this chapel was at
some distance from the church. It was surrounded by tall
trees, and the nearest road to it was by the Rue Sainte
Magloire.
It was about twenty minutes after the arrival of the proces-
sionat Gonzagues? palace. It was quite dark in the cemetery,
from which could be seen the brilliantly-illumined windows
of the audience-chamber in the Gonzagues' palace, and also
the more dimly-lighted windows of the church. The murmurs
of the crowd assembled in the street were heard at intervals.
On the site of the sepulchral chapel was some waste ground,
planted with yew trees, which had grown tall and spreading.
It looked now like a coppice, or rather like one of those de-
serted gardens which in the course of years assume the aspect
of a virgin wood. In this place waited Gonzagues' allies. In
the blind alley, opening into the Street of the Two Churches,
were horses in readin< ^
Choisy leaned against the same tree. Oriol, seated on a
mound of grass, sighed deeply. Peyrolles,.Montaubert, and
Taranne conversed in a low tone. These were the three
most criminal, not more devoted than the rest, but more en-
tirely in Gonzagues' power. We shall not surprise any one in
saying that since their arrival the Prince Gonzagues' friends
had fully considered the question whether desertion was now
practicable or not. All without exception had in their hearts
broken the tie that bound them to their master. But all still
hoped for his support, and feared his vengeance. They felt
that towards them Gonzagues would show no pity. They
were so deeply convinced of Gonzagues' unshakeable credit
with the regent, that his conduct seemed to them more like a
play than a reality. According to their ideas, Gouzagues had
probably feigned a design to place the bit more firmly be-
tween their teeth, probably to try their mettle. It is certain
Navailles rested
hands ; Noc6 and
356 the duke's motto.
that had they thought Gonzagues lost, their faction would
have parted at once.
The Baron de Batz, who had crept by the side of the walls
down to the palace, reported on his return that the procession
had stopped, and that the crowd filled the streets. What could
it mean? The pretended reparation at Nevers' tomb was
then a mere fiction of Gonzagues. Peyrolles, Montaubert,
and Taranne never lost sight of the brilliantly-illumined
windows of the audience-chamber, especially one where
shone a lamp, close to which they could scarcely discern the
tall figure of the prince.
A few paces ofl', behind the northern door of the church of
Sainte Magloire, stood another group. The confessor of the
princess was at the altar. Aurora, still on her knees, seemed
one of those sweet statues of angels prostrate over a tomb.
Cocardasse and Passepoil stood motionless on each side of the
door, their drawn swords in their hands. Chaverny and
Donna Cruz talked together in a low voice. Once or twice
Cocardasse and Passepoil had fancied they heard suspicious
noises in the cemetery. They were both of them sharp
sighted; still, putting their eyes close to the postern, they had
been able to discover nothing. The sepulchral chapel was
between them and the ambuscade. The lamp which burned
perpetually before the tomb of the last Duke of Nevers
lighted up the chapel, and plunged into greater darkness all
neighbouring objects.
All at once our two bravos started. Chaverny and Donna
Cruz ceased speaking. ' Mary, mother of God !' said Aurora,
distinctly, ' have pity on him !' A strange noise, but quite
close, had made them all on the alert. In the coppice the
whole of the ambuscade was in motion.
Peyrolles, his eyes fixed on the window, had said, ' Atten-
tinn! gentlemen.' Every one had seen the single light
raised and lowered three times. It was the signal for at-
tacking the door of the church. There could be no doubt on
that subject; nevertheless there was considerable hesitation
among the faithful band. They had not believed in the po-
pularity of the crisis of which this signal was a symptom.
The signal once given, they still disbelieved the necessity of
giving it. Gonzagues was playing with them; he wanted to
rivet the chain fastened round their necks.
This idea, which raised Gonzagues in their opinion even in
the moment of his avowed fall, was the cause which deter-
mined them to obey him.
' After all,' said Navailles, ' it is only carrying off a girl.'
' And our horses are close,' added J^oce.
•Eor a trifle one would not lose position,' added Choisy.
THE TESTIMONY OF THE DEAD.
357
' Forward!' cried Taranne. ' The prince must find our
work done.'
Montaubert and Taranne bad both a strong iron lever.
The whole troop rushed forward; Navailles first, Oriol last.
At the first wrench the door gave way. But a barrier of
three naked swords was behind.
At this moment there was a great noise from the side of
the palace, as if some sudden crash had overwhelmed the
crowd that filled the streets. There was only one thrust
given. ISavailles wounded Chaverny, who had imprudently
made a step in advance. -The young marquis fell on his
knee, his hand on his breast. On recognising him, Navailles
drew back and threw away his sword.
'Well,' said Cocardasse, who expected more resistance,
' show me your swords, then.'
There was not time to answer this bravado. Hasty steps
were heard on the grass plot—it was like a whirlwind passing
over, and then the grass plot was deserted. Pejrrolles uttered
a cry of agony; Montaubert drew his last sigh; Taranne
threw up his arms, let go his. sword, and fell. Still there
was but one man, head and arms uncovered, with no defence
but his sword. The voice of this man vibrated in the deep
silence.
' Let those who are not accomplices of Philip of Gonza-
gues retire.'
Shadows were lost in the darkness. There was no answer
except the sound of horses' hoofs over the stones which
paved the Street of the Two Churches. Lagardere—for it was
he crossing the threshold—found Chaverny on the ground.
'Is he dead?' he cried.
'No, thank you,' said the little marquis. 'By Jove!
Lagardere, I never saw a thunderbolt before. My flesh
creeps to think that in that street in Madrid '
Lagardere clasped him in his arms, and wrung the hands
of the two swordsmen. An instant after, Aurora was in his
arms.
' To the altar,' cried Lagardere, ' all is not over. Torches!
The hour so long expected has at last arrived. Hear me,
Nevers, and look on your avenger !'
In leaving the palace, Gonzagues had found before him
that insuperable barrier, the crowd. There was only Lagar-
dere who could pierce right forward through this mass of
human beings. Lagardere pushed through, Gonzagues had
gone round. This is the reason that, though Lagardere left
the palace last, he was first at the cemetery.
Gonzagues entered the cemetery by the church. The
night was so dark that he could hardly find his way to the
358
THE DUKE'S MOTTO.
sepulchral chapel. As he reached the spot where his com-
panions were to meet him in ambuscade, the brilliantly-
lighted windows of the palace attracted, against his will, his
attention. He saw the grand chamber, still lighted up, was
entirely empty—not one left on the platform with its gilded
chairs.
Gonzagues said to himself—' They are in pursuit of me,
but they will not have time.'
When his eye dazzled with the light turned to look on the
copse that was about him, he thought his companions were
all standing around. Every tree he took for a human
being.
' Hollo!' he said, in a low voice, ' Peyrolles, is it done?'
Silence alone answered him. He struck with the hilt of
his sword a dark form that he had mistaken for the factotum.
The sword struck against the trunk of a dead cypress tree.
' Is there no one ?' he said ; ' have they all left without me?'
He thought he heard a voice which answered ' Ah!' but
he was not sure, because the dry leaves crackled under his
feet. A dull noise arose on the side of his own palace, and
was gradually becoming louder. An oath rose to Gonzagues'
lips.
' I will learn,' he said, turning towards the church. But a
tall figure rose up before him this time—it was not a dry
tree. The figure had a naked sword in his hand.
' Where are they ? Where are the others ?' asked Gon-
zagues. ' Whereas Peyrolles ?'
The stranger's sword was lowered and pointed to the side
of the chapel.
'Peyrolles is there!'
Gonzagues bent forward and cried out: his hand had touched
warm blood.
' JVTontaubert is there!' continued the unknown.
' Dead too !' muttered Gonzagues. ' Dead also !'
And touching with his foot another prostrate form, the un-
known added—' There lies Taranne, dead also !'
The noise increased. On all sides were heard footsteps
approaching, and torches were seen glaring among the foliage.
' Lagardere, then, was here before me,' said Gonzagues,
grinding his teeth.
He drew back a step, to flee, no doubt. A bright light shone
behind him. He turned and saw Cocardasse and Passepoil
passing the angle of the chapel, each with a sword in his
hand. The three bodies became visible. From the side of
the church other torches arrived. Gonzagues recognised the
regent, followed by the principal judges and nobles who had
presided at the family council.
THE TESTIMONY OF THE DEAD.
359
He lieard the regent say—'Let no one escape from this
cemetery; guard everywhere.'
'By Heaven!' cried Gonzagues, with a demon's laugh,
' they make us fight in close quarters, as in the days of
chivalry. Philip of Orleans remembers, once in his life, that
he is of chivalrie blood. Be it so. Let us await the judges
of the field.'
Thus speaking treacherously, and whilst Lagardere
answered, ' Be it so; let us wait,' Gonzagues, making a
sudden thrust, dealt Lagardere a wound in the chest. But a
sword in certain hands seems endued with instinct. La-
gardere parried, and charged again. The chest of Gonzagues
gave out a metallic sound. The coat-of-mail had done him
good service. Lagardere's sword broke into shivers. With-
out drawing back an inch, the latter avoided by a bound
the treacherous thrust of his adversary, who fell forward.
Lagardere, at the moment, snatched Cocardasse's sword,
which the latter held out to him by the point. By this
movement the two champions had changed places. La-
gardere was on the side of the two swordsmen. Gonzagues,
whose spring had brought him nearly facing the sepulchral
chapel, turned his back to the Duke of Orleans, who ap-
proached with his followers. They crossed swords again.
Gonzagues was a good swordsman, and had only his head to
guard; but Lagardere seemed only at play with him. At
the second pass Gonzagues' sword flew out of his hand. As
he stodped to pick it up Lagardere put his foot upon it.
'Ah ! chevalier!' cried the regent, coming up.
' Prince,' answered Lagarddre, ' our ancestors called this
the judgment of God. We have no longer faith, but incre-
dulity. Kills not God any more than blindness extinguishes
the sun.'
The regent spoke low to his ministers—' It will not do for
the head of a prince to fall on the scaffold.'
'Here is Nevers' tomb,' cried Henri, 'and the promised
expiation shall be given. Vengeance is due. It is with
this weapon my hand shall accomplish it.'
He picked up Gonzagues' sword.
' What are you doing ?' again asked the regent.
' Prince,' replied Lagardere, ' this sword pierced Nevers.
I recognise it; it shall punish his assassin.'
He threw Cocardasse's sword to Gonzagues, who seized it
with trembling hands.
' True,' grumbled forth Cocardasse. ' The third throw
brings down the cock.'
The whole of the family assembly now surrounded the two
combatants. When they crossed swords the regent, perhaps
360 the duke's motto.
unconscious of what he was doing, took the torch out of
Passepoil's hand and held it up.
The regent, Philippe d'Orleans ! .
' Mind the coat of mail,' murmured Passepoil, behind
Lagardere.
There was no need. Lagardere seemed transfigured. His
noble figure seemed still taller^ the wind played in the tresses
of his hair, his eyes darted lightning. He drove Gonzagues
backwards to the door of the chapel. Then his sword glis-
tened, describing that rapid circle that makes a thrust de
prime.
' Nevers' thrust!' cried both the swordsmen at once.
Gonzagues fell dead at the foot of Nevers' statue with a
mortal wound between the eyes.
The Princess Gonzagues and Donna Cruz supported
Aurora. At a little distance a surgeon dressed Chaverny's
wound. This was under the doorway of the church of Sainte
Magloire. The regent and his cburt mounted the steps.
Lagardere stood between both groups.
|Prince!' cried Madame Gonzagues, 'here is Nevers'
heiress, my daughter, who, with your highness's consent, will
to-morrow become Madame de Lagardere.'
The regent took Aurora's hand, kissed it, and put it into
Henri's.
' Thanks,' he said to the latter, looking affectionately to-
wards the tomb of his early friend. Then speaking in a
firmer tone—for emotion had made his voice tremble—he
said, ' Count de Lagardere, the king alone can make you
Duke of Nevers!'
the end.
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