Justin H. McCarthy

“ Gonzague frowned. "She must be here. If she be the real child, the princess may recognize her."
"And all is lost," said Peyrolles, with a groan.
Gonzague almost smiled. "No. We will charge Lagardere with having assassinated the father and stolen the child for his own ends. He shall be hanged out of hand. Doña Flora will seem the commendable error of my over-zealous heart, and as for the new princess—well, even princesses are mortal."
Peyrolles had always admired his master, but never perhaps so much as now. "Your Excellency is a man of genius," he said, enthusiastically. ”

“ Lagardere listened with his quiet smile, and when the hunchback made a pause he answered him with scornful good-humor. "You waste your breath, Master Æsop," he said, "and you should be saving it for your prayers, if you know any, or for your fighting wind, if there is nothing of salvation in you. You are a very base knave. I do not think you ever did an honest, a kindly, or a generous deed in your life. I know that you have done many vile things, and would do more if time were given to you; but the time is denied, Master Æsop, and yet you may serve a good cause in your death." ”

“ Lagardere pointed to the tranquil little Inn. "Behind yonder Inn there is a garden. To-day, when all the world is at the fair, that garden is as lonely as a cemetery. At the foot of the garden runs the river, a ready grave for the one who falls. There we can fight in quiet to our heart’s content."
Æsop glared at Lagardere with a look of triumphant hatred. "I mean to kill you, Lagardere!" he said, and the tone of his voice was surety of his intention and his belief in his power to carry it out. ”

“ His handsome, daring, humorous face, bronzed by many suns and lined a little by many experiences—a face that in its working mobility and calm inscrutability might possibly have been the countenance of a strolling player—was the face of a man still in the prime of life, and carrying his years as lightly as if he were still little more than a lad. He moved noiselessly from the bridge to the high-road, and came cautiously upon the swashbucklers at the very moment when Passepoil was saying, with a shiver: "I’m always afraid to hear Lagardere’s voice cry out Nevers’s motto." ”

“ To be in the thick of such a brawl, to be fighting side by side with the best swordsman in all France against what might well be considered overwhelming odds, and to be working havoc and disaster among his antagonists, stirred Lagardere’s blood more blithely than ripe wine. He had fought good fights before now, but never such a fight as this, in the black and dark night, with the dim air thick with hostile swords, and the night wind singing songs of battle in his ears. To live like this was to be very much alive ”

“ Now occasion seemed to demand that Staupitz should follow the latter course. He was employed to kill somebody, and Æsop had assured him that this somebody was Louis, Duke de Nevers. Staupitz had not cared who it was; it was all one to him, but honestly he was troubled now by the patent trouble of Cocardasse and his ominous mutterings about the thrust of Nevers.
Passepoil broke the silence, surveying the puzzled faces around him. "No wonder there’s such a crowd of us." And for the first time there was something like the sound of audacity in his voice and a glance of audacity on his visage. ”

“ As he spoke he laid his precious bundle reverently in the hay-cart, where it seemed to sleep as peacefully as if it were in its native cradle, and began piling up the great masses of the bundles of hay in front of him to form a kind of rampart.
Nevers looked at him in astonishment. "Do you stand by me?"
Lagardere answered him cheerfully. "I came here to fight with you. I stay here to fight for you. I must fight somebody. I lose by the change, for it is a greater honor to fight Monsieur de Nevers than a battalion of bravos, but there is no help for it." ”

“ Like Æsop yonder, I laughed at the secret thrust."
He paused, and Cocardasse questioned: "But you don’t laugh now?"
Lagardere answered him, gravely: "Not a laugh. I waited for Nevers one evening outside the Louvre and saluted him. ’Sir,’ I said, in my grandest manner, ’I rely upon your courtesy to give me a moonlight lesson in your secret thrust.’ Lord, how he started. ’Who the devil are you?’ says he. I made him a magnificent bow. ’I am Henri de Lagardere, of the king’s Light-Horse. I am always in trouble, always in debt, always in love. These are misfortunes a man can endure. ”

“ The Prince de Gonzague never passed the threshold of the door that led to the princess’s apartments. The Princess de Gonzague never passed the threshold of the door that led to the prince’s apartments. Ever since their strange marriage the man and the woman had lived thus apart; the man, on his part, always courteous, always deferential, always tender, always ready to be respectfully affectionate, and the woman, on her part, icily reserved, wrapped around in the blackness of her widowhood, inexorably deaf to all wooing, immovably resolute to be alone. ”

“ In a moment Lagardere enveloped himself in his gypsy’s cloak and flung himself on one of the benches of the Inn, where he lay as if wrapped in the heavy sleep which is the privilege of those that live in the open air and follow the stars with their feet. When the king, accompanied by Chavernay and followed by Bonnivet, crossed the bridge and paused before the Inn, nothing was to be noticed save the huddle of gray cloth which represented some tired wayfarer. ”

“ Lagardere held his own on the other. Nevers delivered his thrust at Æsop, and for the second time that day the hunchback felt the prick of steel between his eyes and saved himself by springing backward, his blood’s fire suddenly turned to ice. Lagardere’s sword was like a living fire. "Look out, Staupitz! Take that, Pepe!" he cried, and wounded both men. Then, while the German and the Spaniard fell back swearing, he turned joyously to Nevers, for his quick ear caught the sound of galloping on the distant highway.
"Good cheer, brother! I hear horses. My men are coming. Lagardere! Lagardere!" ”

“ Pointing to where Lagardere stood, with Gabrielle clinging to his arm, he cried: "He must not escape! Your swords, friends! It is but one man!"
But even as he spoke, and while Lagardere was waiting with lifted sword for the inevitable attack, Chavernay crossed the room and stood at Lagardere’s side. "We shall be two!" he cried, and drew his sword.
At the same moment the doors of the antechamber opened, and Cocardasse and Passepoil, with their naked swords in their hands, entered and ranged themselves on the side of Lagardere. ”

“ Gabrielle, in her turn, had glanced at the sinister figure on the bridge, and, seeing the malevolence of its attitude, of its expression, had drawn back with a faint cry. "Henri," she said—"Henri, who is that watching us? He looks so evil."
Lagardere had recognized Æsop as instantly as Æsop had recognized Lagardere. Æsop now came slowly towards them, addressing them mockingly: "Do not let me disturb you. Life is brief, but love is briefer." ”

“ There were the brilliant, insolent youths, who formed the party of Gonzague; there were the light, bright, desirable women whom the party of Gonzague especially favored among the many of their kind in Paris. Nocé was there, and Oriol and Taranne and Navailles and the others, and the dainty, daring, impudent Cidalise and her sisters of the opera, and Oriol’s flame, who made game of him—all very pretty, all very greedy, as greedy of food and wine as they were greedy of gold and kisses, and all very merry. ”

“ The girl shook her head dubiously, and there was suspicion in her dark eyes as she asked: "What do you want of me?"
Gonzague smiled more paternally than before. "I want you to love me," he said; and then, seeing that the gypsy lifted her brows, he continued, leisurely: "Do not misunderstand me. Women still are sometimes pleased to smile on me. I do not want such smiles from you, child. There is another fate for you. Are you content with your new life?"
Flora answered him with a weary tone in her voice and a weary look on her pretty face. ”

“ The hunchback laughed—a dry, strident laugh. "Would Æsop be a welcome son-in-law to the Princess de Gonzague?"
Gonzague seemed to feel the force of the hunchback’s reasoning. To marry the girl to this malformed assassin was to destroy her more utterly, she still living, than to destroy her by taking her life. "Well," he said—"well, you shall try your luck. If she marries you, she is out of my way. If she refuses you, you shall be avenged for her disdain. We can always revert to my first intention." ”

“ A belated patriotism stirring vaguely in Faenza’s muddled mind tempted him to resent the hunch-back’s slights upon the land which had been unlucky enough to mother him.
"All men of Italy are not knaves," he growled, huskily, and, half rising from his seat with crimsoned visage, he was busying himself to say more, when Staupitz, who was as interested as the others in Master Æsop’s scandalous chronicle, clapped one bear’s paw on Faenza’s shoulder and another bear’s paw across Faenza’s mouth, and thus forced him at once, by sheer effort of brute strength, to a sitting posture and to silence. ”

“ In another instant Lagardere heard the well-known voice of Nevers calling out: "Halloo! Is any one here?"
Lagardere advanced to meet his appointed enemy. "This way, duke!" he cried. Then he added, reprovingly: "You would have been wiser to carry a lantern."
Nevers moved swiftly towards him along the kind of path that Lagardere had made in the bundle of hay, and as he came he spoke, and his tone was menacing and imperious. "Let me feel your blade. I can kill in the dark." ”

“ You carry a sword and can use it. You shall fight for your life, like your fellow-assassins."
Æsop looked about him. "I have but to raise my voice. There must be people within call even in this sleepy neighborhood."
Lagardere still smiled, and the smile was still provocative. "But if you raise your voice I shall be reluctantly compelled to stab you where you stand. Ah, coward, can you only fight in the dark when you are nine to one?"
Æsop gave his hilt a hitch. "You will serve my master’s turn as well dead as alive. I wear the best sword in the world, and it longs for your life." ”

“ The hunchback sighed. He was still cutting his strange capers, waving his extended fingers over the girl’s head and making grotesque genuflections, but he spoke, and his voice was full of passion and his voice was full of pain as he whispered: "Gabrielle, Gabrielle, I have always loved you, shall always love you. But you must not love me, that would never do. Nevers’s daughter cannot, may not, love the soldier of fortune." ”

“ If it were merely necessary to kill the Duke of Nevers to gratify the hate of any private enemy, one place would do as well as another, and we might take him any time on his way here, instead of waiting till the precise moment when he enters the moat of Caylus. But you wish us to wait for that precise moment because you, and your master, wish it to seem patent to all the world that the deed was done by the Marquis of Caylus on his own ground, to defend his own honor. Once again, we demand hereafter the favor and protection of his highness the Prince of Gonzague. ”

“ Beyond the castle a bridge spanned the ravine, carrying on the road towards the frontier. The moat itself was dry now, for war and Caylus had long been disassociated, and France was, for the moment, at peace with her neighbor, if at peace with few other powers. A young thirteenth Louis, a son of the great fourth Henri, now sat upon the throne of France, and seemingly believed himself to be the ruler of his kingdom, though a newly made Cardinal de Richelieu held a different opinion, and acted according to his conviction with great pertinacity and skill. ”

“ Gonzague was too well-bred, too scholarly a man not to have a well-bred, scholarly sense of humor. His nimble Italian fancy saw at once the contrasts between his noisy company of light men and loose women and the withered hunchback who was a murderer and the beautiful girl whom he had robbed of her birthright and was now ready to rob of her honor. ”

“ Something of a statesman and much of a scholar, Gonzague delighted to be the patron of the arts, and to lend, indirectly, indeed, but no less efficaciously, his counsels to the service of the cardinal during the cardinal’s lifetime, and to the king now that the cardinal was gone. A man of pleasure, Gonzague was careful to enjoy all the delights that a society which found its chief occupation in the pursuit of amusement afforded. Even the youngest cavalier in Paris or Versailles would have regretted to find himself in rivalry with Gonzague for the favors of the fair. ”

“ For a moment the good-humor faded from the face of Lagardere, and he spoke grimly enough: "There were nine assassins in the moat at Caylus. How many are left now?"
"Only three," Cocardasse answered.
Passepoil was more precise. "Cocardasse and myself and Æsop."
Lagardere looked at them mockingly. "Doesn’t it strike you that Æsop will soon be alone?"
Cocardasse shuddered. "It’s no laughing matter."
Lagardere still continued to smile. "Vengeance sometimes wears a sprightly face and smiles while she strikes."
Passepoil was now a sickly green. "A very painful humor," he stammered. ”

“ The gardens of the Palais Royal made a delightful place for such an entertainment as the king’s ball. In its contrasts of light and shadow, in its sombre alleys starred with colored lights, in its blend of courtly pomp and sylvan simplicity, it seemed the fairy-like creation of some splendid dream. Against the vivid greenness of the trees, intensified by the brightness of the blazing lamps, the whiteness of the statues asserted itself with fantastic emphasis. ”

“ Lagardere smiled ironically. "If it eases your mind in any way," he said, quietly, "I can assure you that I am a gentleman, although a poor one, and have as good right to trail a sword as any kinsman of the Prince de Gonzague." He paused, and then added, not unpityingly: "I would rather beat you than kill you."
Chavernay was scarcely to be appeased in this fashion. Something in Lagardere’s carriage, something in his voice, convinced the little marquis that his enemy was speaking the truth, and that he was, indeed, a gentleman. ”

“ The king looked steadily at the seeming gypsy, who returned his glance as steadily. "You are bold, sir," he said.
Lagardere answered him, with composure. "I am bold because I address Louis of France, who never broke his word—Louis of France, who still holds dear the memory of Louis of Nevers."
The king signed to him to continue. "Speak freely. What do you know of Louis of Nevers?"
Lagardere went on: "Lagardere knows much. He knows who killed Nevers. He knows where Nevers’s child is. He can produce the child. He can denounce the murderer." ”