Chicot the Jester Page 2

  CHAPTER II.

  HOW IT IS NOT ALWAYS HE WHO OPENS THE DOOR, WHO ENTERS THE HOUSE.

  The Porte St. Antoine was a kind of vault in stone, similar toour present Porte St. Denis, only it was attached by its leftside to buildings adjacent to the Bastile. The space at the right,between the gate and the Hotel des Tournelles, was large anddark, little frequented by day, and quite solitary at night,for all passers-by took the side next to the fortress, so asto be in some degree under the protection of the sentinel. Ofcourse, winter nights were still more feared than summer ones.

  That on which the events which we have recounted, and are aboutto recount took place, was cold and black. Before the gate onthe side of the city, was no house, but only high walls, thoseof the church of St. Paul, and of the Hotel des Tournelles. Atthe end of this wall was the niche of which St. Luc had spokento Bussy. No lamps lighted this part of Paris at that epoch.In the nights when the moon charged herself with the lightingof the earth, the Bastile rose somber and majestic against thestarry blue of the skies, but on dark nights, there seemed only athickening of the shadows where it stood. On the night in question,a practised eye might have detected in the angle of the wall ofthe Tournelles several black shades, which moved enough to showthat they belonged to poor devils of human bodies, who seemedto find it difficult to preserve their natural warmth as they.stood there. The sentinel from the Bastile; who could not seethem on account of the darkness, could not hear them either,for they talked almost in whispers. However, the conversationdid not want interest.

  "This Bussy was right," said one; "it is a night such as we hadat Warsaw, when Henri was King of Poland, and if this continueswe shall freeze."

  "Come, Maugiron, you complain like a woman," replied another:"it is not warm, I confess; but draw your mantle over your eyes,and put your hands in your pockets, and you will not feel it."

  "Really, Schomberg," said a third, "it is easy to see you areGerman. As for me, my lips bleed, and my mustachios are stiffwith ice."

  "It is my hands," said a fourth; "on my honor, I would not swearI had any."

  "You should have taken your mamma's muff, poor Quelus," saidSchomberg.

  "Eh! mon Dieu, have patience," said a fifth voice; "you will soonbe complaining you are hot."

  "I see some one coming through the Rue St. Paul," said Quelus.

  "It cannot be him; he named another route."

  "Might he not have suspected something, and changed it?"

  "You do not know Bussy; where he said he should go, he would go,if he knew that Satan himself were barring his passage."

  "However, here are two men coming."

  "Ma foi! yes."

  "Let us charge," said Schomberg.

  "One moment," said D'Epernon; "do not let us kill good bourgeois,or poor women. Hold! they stop."

  In fact, they had stopped, and looked as if undecided. "Oh, canthey have seen us?"

  "We can hardly see ourselves!"

  "See, they turn to the left; they stop before a house they areseeking--they are trying to enter; they will escape us!"

  "But it is not him, for he was going to the Faubourg St. Antoine."

  "Oh! how do you know he told you right?"

  At this supposition they all rushed out, sword in hand, towardsthe gentlemen.

  One of the men had just introduced a key into the lock; the doorhad yielded and was about to open, when the noise of their assailantsmade them turn.

  "What is this? Can it be against us, Aurilly?" said one.

  "Ah, monseigneur," said the other, who had opened the door, "itlooks like it. Will you name yourself, or keep incognito?"

  "Armed men--an ambush!"

  "Some jealous lover; I said the lady was too beautiful not tobe watched."

  "Let us enter quickly, Aurilly; we are safer within doors."

  "Yes, monseigneur, if there are not enemies within; but how doyou know----"

  He had not time to finish. The young men rushed up; Quelus andMaugiron made for the door to prevent their entering, whileSchomberg, D'O, and D'Epernon prepared to attack in front. Buthe who had been called monseigneur turned towards Quelus, whowas in front, and crossing his arms proudly, said:

  "You attack a son of France, M. Quelus!"

  Quelus drew back, trembling, and thunderstruck.

  "Monseigneur le Duc d'Anjou!" he cried.

  "The Duc d'Anjou!" repeated the others.

  "Well, gentlemen," cried the duke.

  "Monseigneur," stammered D'Epernon, "it was a joke; forgive us."

  "Monseigneur," said D'O, "we did not dream of meeting your highnesshere!"

  "A joke!" said the duke; "you have an odd manner of joking, M.d'Epernon. Since it was not intended for me, whom did your jestmenace?"

  "Monseigneur," said Schomberg; "we saw St. Luc quit the HotelMontmorency and come this way; it seemed strange to us, and wewished to see what took him out on his wedding night."

  "M. de St. Luc--you took me for him?"

  "Yes, monseigneur."

  "M. de St. Luc is a head taller then I am."

  "It is true, monseigneur; but he is just the height of M. Aurilly."

  "And seeing a man put a key in a lock, we took him for theprincipal," added D'O.

  "Monseigneur cannot suppose that we had the shadow of an ill-willtowards him, even to disturb his pleasures?"

  As he listened, the duke, by a skilful movement, had, littleby little, quitted the door, followed by Aurilly, and was nowat some distance off.

  "My pleasures!" said he, angrily; "what makes you think I wasseeking pleasure?"

  "Ah, monseigneur, in any case pardon us, and let us retire," saidQuelus.

  "It is well; adieu, gentlemen; but first listen. I was goingto consult the Jew Manasses, who reads the future; he lives,as you know, in Rue de la Tournelle. In passing, Aurilly sawyou and took you for the watch, and we, therefore, tried to hideourselves in a doorway. And now you know what to believe andsay; it is needless to add, that I do not wish to be followed,"and he turned away.

  "Monseigneur," said Aurilly, "I am sure these men have badintentions; it is near midnight, and this is a lonely quarter;let us return home, I beg."

  "No, no; let us profit by their departure."

  "Your highness is deceived; they have not gone, but have returnedto their retreat: look in the angle of the Hotel des Tournelles."

  Francois looked, and saw that Aurilly was right; it was evidentthat they waited for something, perhaps to see if the duke werereally going to the Jew.

  "Well, Monseigneur," continued Aurilly, "do you not think it willbe more prudent to go home?"

  "Mordieu! yet it is annoying to give up."

  "Yes; but it can be put off. I told your highness that the houseis taken for a year; we know the lady lodges on the first story.We have gained her maid, and have a key which opens the door:you may wait safely."

  "You are sure that the door yielded?"

  "Yes, at the third key I tried."

  "Are you sure you shut it again?"

  "Yes, monseigneur."

  Aurilly did not feel sure, as he said, but he did not choose toadmit it.

  "Well, I will go; I shall return some other time." And the dukewent away, promising to payoff the gentlemen for their interruption.

  They had hardly disappeared, when the five companions saw approacha cavalier wrapped in a large cloak. The steps of his horse resoundedon the frozen ground, and they went slowly and with precaution,for it was slippery.

  "This time," said Quelus, "it is he."

  "Impossible," said Maugiron.

  "Why?"

  "Because he is alone, and we left him with Livarot, Antragues,and Ribeirac, who would not have let him run such a risk."

  "It is he, however; do you not recognize his insolent way of carryinghis head?"

  "Then," said D'O, "it is a snare."

  "In any case, it is he; and so to arms!"

  It was, indeed, Bussy, who came carelessly down the Rue St. Antoine,and followed the route gi
ven him by Quelus; he had, as we haveseen, received the warning of St. Luc, and, in spite of it, hadparted from his friends at the Hotel Montmorency. It was one ofthose bravadoes delighted in by the valiant colonel, who saidof himself, "I am but a simple gentleman, but I bear in my breastthe heart of an emperor; and when I read in Plutarch the exploitsof the ancient Romans, I think there is not one that I couldnot imitate." And besides, he thought that St. Luc, who was notordinarily one of his friends, merely wished to get him laughed atfor his precautions; and Bussy feared ridicule more than danger.

  He had, even in the eyes of his enemies, earned a reputation forcourage, which could only be sustained by the rashest adventures.Therefore, alone, and armed only with a sword and poniard, headvanced towards the house where waited for him no person, butsimply a letter, which the Queen of Navarre sent him every monthon the same day, and which he, according to his promise to thebeautiful Marguerite, went to fetch himself, alone, and at night.

  When he arrived at the Rue St. Catherine, his active eye discernedin the shade the forms of his adversaries. He counted them: "Three,four, five," said he, "without counting the lackeys, who aredoubtless within call. They think much of me, it seems; all thesefor one man. That brave St. Luc did not deceive me; and were hiseven the first sword to pierce me I would cry, 'Thanks for yourwarning, friend.'" So saying, he continued to advance, only hisarm held his sword under his cloak, of which he had unfastenedthe clasp.

  It was then that Quelus cried, "To arms."

  "Ah, gentlemen," said Bussy, "it appears you wish to kill me:I am the wild boar you had to hunt. Well, gentlemen, the wildboar will rip up a few of you; I swear it to you, and I neverbreak my word."

  "Possibly," said Schomberg; "but it is not right, M. Bussy d'Amboise,that you should be on horseback and we on foot." And as he spoke,the arm of the young man, covered with white satin, which glistenedin the moonlight, came from under his cloak, and Bussy felt hishorse give way under him. Schomberg had, with an address peculiarto himself, pierced the horse's leg with a kind of cutlass, ofwhich the blade was heavier than the handle and which had remainedin the wound. The animal gave a shrill cry and fell on his knees.Bussy, always ready, jumped at once to the ground, sword in hand.

  "Ah!" cried he, "my favorite horse, you shall pay for this."And as Schomberg approached incautiously, Bussy gave him a blowwhich broke his thigh. Schomberg uttered a cry.

  "Well!" said Bussy, "have I kept my word? one already. It wasthe wrist of Bussy, and not his horse's leg, you should have cut."

  In an instant, while Schomberg bound up his thigh with hishandkerchief, Bussy presented the point of his long sword to hisfour other assailants, disdaining to cry for help, but retreatinggradually, not to fly, but to gain a wall, against which to supporthimself, and prevent his being attacked behind, making all thewhile constant thrusts, and feeling sometimes that soft resistanceof the flesh which showed that his blows had taken effect. Oncehe slipped for an instant. That instant sufficed for Quelus togive him a wound in the side.

  "Touched," cried Quelus.

  "Yes, in the doublet," said Bussy, who would not even acknowledgehis hurt. And rushing on Quelus, with a vigorous effort, he madehis sword fly from his hand. But he could not pursue his advantage,for D'O, D'Epernon, and Maugiron attacked him, with fresh fury.Schomberg had bound his wound, and Quelus picked up his sword.Bussy made a bound backwards, and reached the wall. There hestopped, strong as Achilles, and smiling at the tempest of blowswhich rained around him. All at once he felt a cloud pass over hiseyes. He had forgotten his wound, but these symptoms of faintingrecalled it to him.

  "Ah, you falter!" cried Quelus.

  "Judge of it!" cried Bussy. And with the hilt of his sword hestruck him on the temple. Quelus fell under the blow. Thenfurious--wild, he rushed forward, uttering a terrible cry. D'Oand D'Epernon drew back, Maugiron was raising Quelus, when Bussybroke his sword with his foot, and wounded the right arm ofD'Epernon. For a moment he was conqueror, but Quelus recoveredhimself, and four swords flashed again. Bussy felt himself lost.He gathered all his strength to retreat once more step by step.Already the perspiration was cold on his brow, and the ringing inhis ears and the cloud over his eyes warned him that his strengthwas giving way. He sought for the wall with his left hand; to hisastonishment, it yielded. It was a door not quite closed. Thenhe regained hope and strength for a last effort. For a second hisblows were rapid and violent. Then he let himself glide insidethe door, and pushed it to with a violent blow. It shut, and Bussywas saved. He heard the furious blows of his enemies on the door,their cries of rage, and wrathful imprecations. Then, the groundseemed to fail under his feet, and the walls to move. He made afew steps forward, and fell on the steps of a staircase. He knewno more, but seemed to descend into the silence and obscurityof the tomb.