CHAPTER IX
THE CONSERVE CLOSET
Eight o’clock sounding from the Théatins near by brought me out of my revery. I reflected that it would be well to employ the two hours remaining in examining the gardens of the Palais Royal and the building itself, in so far as possible, on the same principle which makes the general attentively study the field upon which he is placing his forces. I therefore donned again the gray suit I had worn two evenings before, and buckling a sword to my belt, called Jacques, told him where I was going in case Richelieu should return and ask for me, and left the house. The weather had continued warm and a full moon silvered the city with a magic touch. It seemed to me that everybody was in the streets. The Quai Malaquest was crowded, even the steps leading down to the water and the broad landing-places being filled with people watching the boats dropping down the river or painfully making way against it.
The Hotel de Mailly, just opposite the Pont Royal, was a blaze of light, and I saw that some fête was in progress. It was with difficulty that I crossed the bridge, the press of carriages and throng of foot passengers being so great that they threatened at times to burst over the parapets. I finally won across and passed before the Tuileries, casting a glance at the entrance of Madame du Maine’s salon, which was brilliantly lighted as ever. Here, too, there was a great crowd, for the gardens of the Tuileries were a popular pleasure-ground, and in the evenings, even in severe weather, were thronged with people who had no opportunity during the day of drawing a breath of pure air. The Rue St. Vincent brought me out upon the Rue St. Honoré, the busiest street in the great city, and down this I turned, and soon reached the Palais Royal.
I was already familiar with that portion of the building which fronted on the Rue St. Honoré, extending in a line broken only by the great entrance from the Rue de Richelieu to the Bons Enfants, for I had passed it more than once in my wanderings of the week I was alone in Paris. It was in the gardens at the back and the buildings facing them that I was most concerned, for I knew that the apartments of the regent’s daughter must be somewhere in that part of the palace. I turned down the Rue de Richelieu and entered the gardens through one of the innumerable entrances which pierced the buildings along this street. The broad avenues of stately chestnuts were thronged with cavaliers and ladies, sumptuously dressed, many of them wearing masks, from which I judged that ours were not the only love-affairs afoot. But without pausing to more than glance at them, I approached the palace and examined it intently.
At the right was a low wall enclosing a square in which were several flower-beds, a fountain, and an avenue of trees. This I judged to be a private park. The buildings on either side of this small garden had blank walls, the windows having evidently been omitted to insure greater privacy. The row of buildings fronting it, however, was lofty and elegant, and built in a semi-detached fashion. I argued that I could hardly be wrong in supposing these to be the apartments of the members of the regent’s family.
Further examination confirmed this. To the left of the small garden was a lofty building which resembled nothing so much as a soldier’s barracks, and to the left of this again a high wall pierced by seven gate-ways gave entrance to the inner court, which I did not attempt to penetrate. Still farther to the left, and counterbalancing the space occupied by the garden at the right, was another row of tall and ugly buildings, which I decided were occupied by the servants of the palace and attendants of the regent.
Having completed this survey, I turned my attention to the gardens. A broad avenue of chestnuts extended along either side. Between these avenues were wide lawns where many flower-beds doubtless bloomed in summer, and in the middle of the garden was a circular pool in which was a fountain. Farther down the avenue and near the end of the gardens I came to the dryad fountain, which awakened in me so sweet a memory that I lingered by it.
“M. de Brancas appears to be thoughtful to-night,” said a low, clear voice at my elbow.
I turned with a start and saw a masked lady standing beside me, but the voice and the beating of my heart told me in an instant who she was.
“Ah, Mlle. Dacour,” I exclaimed, bowing before her, “shall I tell you of what I was thinking? It was of a night not long ago when on this very spot I met the lady whom I love and whom I am dying to serve.”
“Not so loud, monsieur,” she commanded; “do you not see by this mask that I wish to remain unrecognized? Come, let us move away from here. ’Tis not yet time for the rendezvous.”
“Would it were hours away instead of minutes, mademoiselle,” I cried, “if it were permitted me to walk with you here!” and I gave her my arm, vainly endeavoring to put into words the emotion which I felt. Perhaps she understood, for she leaned against me lightly, and I caught the sweet, faint perfume of her hair.
“M. le Duc will be here, will he not?” she asked.
“I trust so, mademoiselle,” I answered. “As I suppose you know, he was released from the Bastille yesterday and ordered to join his regiment at Bayonne. But he assured me that he would be at the fountain at ten o’clock to-night.”
“Then he will be there,” said Mlle. Dacour, lightly. “Do you know, monsieur, I am beginning to believe that you and Richelieu have the power of achieving everything upon which you really set your hearts.”
“Would that I could believe so, mademoiselle!” I cried. “There is one thing above all others upon which I have set my heart. Do you believe I shall achieve that also?”
“How can I tell,” she answered, glancing at me with mischievous eyes, “not knowing what this wonderful something is?”
“But can you not guess, mademoiselle?” I was trembling with joy and apprehension, a trembling which she must have felt, for she quickened her pace.
“Let us postpone the riddle, M. de Brancas,” she said. “’Tis time for us to be at the fountain,” and we turned our steps thither.
I dared say nothing further, for I could not guess what was in her heart and had not the courage to risk a rebuff. The sauntering couples had grown less numerous as the night grew colder. Ah, had they held in their hearts the flame of a love like mine no stress of weather could have driven them apart! As we approached the fountain I saw a proud figure standing near it, which I recognized in an instant.
“’Tis he,” I said, and we hastened forward.
“In faith, I had almost given you up, de Brancas,” cried Richelieu, gayly, as he wrung my hand and bowed to my companion. “How did you get out of that devil of a prison?”
“Very easily,” I answered, “since the regent was kind enough to open the doors for me.”
“That was thoughtful of him, and I envy you the hour you have passed with this fair lady.”
“Oh, M. le Duc,” cried Mlle. Dacour, “our conversation has been most sober, and concerned mostly with your affairs.”
“De Brancas,” exclaimed the duke, “your friendship goes too far. Forget me, I beg of you, when you are with Mlle. Dacour. I should never forgive myself if I thought that my petty concerns interfered with the discussion of more appropriate and more interesting things.”
“But how did you escape, monsieur?” I inquired. “The regent sent a squadron of horse with you, did he not?”
“Oh, yes,” answered Richelieu, airily, “but they do not know how to ride. Last night we stopped at Chartres. This morning we set off again at a snail’s pace, and by noon reached Orleans, where we stopped for dinner. I was ashamed of the company in which I found myself and determined to leave it. So when the guards were in a half-somnolent state, digesting their dinner like so many pigs, I knocked a couple of them out of the way, mounted my horse, and rode leisurely back to Paris by way of Etampes and Limours. ’Twas too easily done to mention further.”
“But the guards are doubtless on your track, if they have not already reached Paris!” I exclaimed.
“I suppose so,” said Richelieu, carelessly; “but how can they suspect that I am here in the gardens of the Palais Royal talking to Mlle. Dacour and yourself, and that I am presently to see Mlle. de Valois again? Is it not so, mademoiselle?” he asked, turning to Louise.
“Oh, yes, M. le Duc,” she answered. “Come. She is awaiting you.”
“While I have been idling here!” cried Richelieu, and sprang forward.
“And I?” I asked.
“Come also, M. de Brancas,” she said, smiling over her shoulder. “We have seen that you know how to be of service and that you are discreet.”
I needed no second bidding.
A bank of clouds obscured the moon, but Mlle. Dacour advanced without hesitation and led the way, as I had expected, towards the right wing of the palace with the little garden in front. A gate in the low surrounding wall yielded to her touch, but instead of advancing straight forward across the garden she kept to the right in the shadow of the buildings, where suddenly she stopped. I looked about to discover the reason for this, for there was an apparently solid wall beside us, when I saw her passing her hand slowly over it, and in a moment a section of the masonry swung back, operated by a spring which she had pressed.
“What wonder is this?” asked Richelieu.
“No wonder at all,” replied the girl. “Simply one of the devices arranged many years ago by Cardinal Mazarin for purposes of his own. There are many such in the building, if one only knows how to find them. Enter, messieurs.”
We bowed our heads and entered, Mlle. Dacour following us and closing the hidden door after her. There was a lighted lantern standing in one corner of the small room in which we found ourselves, and she picked it up and motioned us to follow. A long, narrow passage led to the right, and after traversing this we came to a small spiral staircase. Up this we mounted, and found that it ended apparently in a blank wooden wall. Along this Mlle. Dacour felt with one hand, and as I watched her closely, a section of the wall swung outward. We passed through and it closed after us. I saw with astonishment that the wall through which we had come was covered with shelving, filled with jars of various preserved fruits, glasses of jelly, and boxes of sweetmeats. At that instant Mlle. Dacour held up a warning finger and blew out the light.
“It is, indeed, an unexpected honor,” I heard a voice say, which I recognized as that of the princess. “To what happy chance do I owe it, monsieur?”
“Who can it be?” I heard Louise murmur, for we seemed to have gravitated together in the dark, and the fact that she did not resent my encircling arm filled me with unreasonable joy and made me bless the circumstance which held us prisoner here.
“I come merely to bring you some news which I thought might interest you,” replied a voice, which made me start and Louise tremble. “May I not sit down, my dear daughter?”
“Come, let us go,” whispered Louise. “’Tis folly to remain here.”
“Nay, let us stay rather,” replied Richelieu in the same tone. “I am curious to hear this news which the regent has brought. What say you, de Brancas?”
“I am quite content to stay,” I answered, and I drew Louise closer to me.
“As I suppose you know, mademoiselle,” the regent’s voice was saying when the beating of my heart permitted me to hear, “the King of Sardinia has withdrawn his proposal for your hand.”
“It has saved him a rebuff,” answered Charlotte.
“I am not so sure of that,” and the regent laughed. “But do you know why he has done this? I see from your face that you do not. It was because of a certain rendezvous in the gardens here, news of which had got abroad and had reached the king’s ears. It seems I was not the only one who saw you running towards your apartment that night, and the others were not so discreet as I. Do you understand now, mademoiselle?”
I heard Richelieu utter an oath and fumble for the latch of the door.
“For God’s sake, keep quiet, monsieur!” I whispered. “There may be other news.”
“True,” murmured Richelieu, and he stood where he was.
There was a moment’s silence in the outer room, and then the regent’s voice continued,—
“But do not despair, Charlotte. I have found you another husband. Not a king, perhaps, but of good birth and high rank, who is also complaisant enough to overlook your little shortcomings.”
“And may I ask who this gentleman is?” inquired Charlotte’s trembling voice.
“The Duc de Modena,” said the regent. “See, he has sent his portrait in order that, by gazing at it, you may become acquainted with your future husband before the wedding-day arrives.”
“The Duc de Modena!” exclaimed the girl. “Impossible! You must be jesting, monsieur. The Duc de Modena is old enough to be my grandfather.”
“I assure you that I am far from jesting, Charlotte,” and the regent’s voice took a sterner tone. “As for his age, he certainly bears it well. Here is his portrait. You can see for yourself that he is not an uncomely man.”
“Take it away! I refuse to look at it!” she cried, and we heard a scuffle and a crash of glass, which betokened the destruction of the portrait.
Richelieu was again fumbling for the latch of the door, swearing softly to himself, and again I restrained him.
“That was a foolish act, mademoiselle,” said the regent, “for now you will not know your husband, even when you see him, for I swear that you shall marry the Duc de Modena.”
“And I swear that I shall not!” screamed Charlotte. “I will die first!”
“And perhaps you wish some one else to die first also,” continued the regent in an unchanged voice.
“Some one else? I do not understand, monsieur.”
“Permit me to tell you a little more of my news and you will understand perfectly. You know, doubtless, that yesterday I released the Duc de Richelieu from the Bastille and sent him to join his regiment at Bayonne?”
“Well?”
“Well, to-day at noon, at Orleans, he chose to leave his escort and return to Paris.”
“Continue, monsieur.”
“He was not closely pursued, for his escort had their orders. I suspected that he would do something of the kind, and I also suspected the reason. Do you know what I have sworn, mademoiselle?”
She did not answer, and there was a moment’s pause.
“I have sworn that Richelieu’s head shall fall if he comes in my way again. I set a very pretty trap for him and he has walked straight into it. In this trap you were the bait, my dear.”
I felt Louise trembling against me. Richelieu was breathing deeply.
“Yes, a trap,” cried the regent; “and if I mistake not, the mice are already in it. Are there not mice in your conserve closet, mademoiselle? I fancied I heard a noise there.”
Richelieu, unable to control himself longer, threw open the door with a crash and sprang into the room.
“As you see, M. le Regent,” he cried, hoarse with rage, “the mice are here. But I warn you that they have sharp teeth and know how to use them.”