My Sword's My Fortune Part 7

My glance travelled rapidly round the apartment, which was large, lofty, and oddly furnished. A table littered with papers and parchments occupied the centre; the walls were almost hidden by hundreds of books and curious-looking maps; two globes stood in one corner; on a wide shelf close by were several strange instruments, the uses of which I did not understand; a pair of loosely hung curtains screened the lower end of the room.

At the table sat two men of striking personal appearance.

One was a tall, venerable man with white beard and moustache, broad, high forehead, and calm, thoughtful, gray eyes. He was older than his companion, and the deeply-furrowed brow bespoke a life of much care, perhaps sorrow. He was dressed in a brown robe, held loosely round the middle by silken cords; he wore slippers on his feet, and a ta.s.selled cap partly covered his scanty white hair. I put him down as the astrologer.

The second man attracted and repelled me at the same time. He was in the prime of life and undeniably handsome, while there was a look of sagacity, almost of craft, in his face.

"A strong man," I thought, looking into his wonderful eyes. "Not brave, perhaps, but dogged and tenacious. A man of cunning, too, who will play a knave at his own game and beat him. And yet, somehow, one would expect to find him occupied with paint-brush or guitar, rather than with the affairs of State."

Stories of the powerful Cardinal had reached even my quiet home, but I had never met him, and now stood looking at his face longer perhaps than was in keeping with good manners.

"Hum!" said he, watching me closely, "you are very young for a conspirator; you should be still with your tutor. What is your name?"

"Albert de Lalande," I replied.

"De Lalande!" he echoed in surprise. "The son of Charles de Lalande?"

"Your Eminence is thinking of my cousin Henri."

"Pouf! Are there two of you? So much the worse; one of the family is sufficient. Eh, Martin?"

"This youth is like his cousin," replied the astrologer, "but I imagine he knows little of Paris. I should say he is more at home in the fields than in the streets."

"It seems he knows enough to be mixed up in a daring plot," said Mazarin with a grim smile. "But, after all, my enemies do not rate my powers highly when they send a boy like this against me. I believed I was of more importance."

"No one sent me," I replied; "on the contrary, I came to warn you, but I need have had no fear for you, I find."

The Cardinal sighed. "The wolves do not always get into the sheep-fold," he murmured gently, at which, remembering the body of armed men below, I felt amused.

He was about to speak again, when, after tapping at the door, an officer entered the room. His clothes were torn and soiled, there was a smear of blood on the sleeve of his coat, and he glanced at his master sheepishly.

"Alone!" exclaimed the latter in astonishment, upon which the soldier approached him and began to speak in whispers. Mazarin was evidently displeased, but he listened courteously to the end.

"What bad luck!" he cried. "I thought they were all nicely trapped.

However, no doubt you did your best. Now go and let a surgeon attend to your hurts. I see you have been wounded."

"A mere scratch, your Eminence," replied the officer saluting, and, when he had withdrawn, the Cardinal again turned his attention to me.

"Yes," said he, as if in answer to a question, "your companions have escaped: so much the better for them. But, deprived of the bell-wether, the flock counts for little. Now, as you value your life, tell me who sent you here. I warn you to speak the truth; there are deep dungeons in the Bastille."

"My story is a curious one, your Eminence, but it throws little light on the affair. My father is the head of the De Lalande family, but he is poor, and has lost his estates. The other day our friend, M.

Belloc----"

"Belloc?" exclaimed the Cardinal quickly, "what Belloc?"

"Roland Belloc, your Eminence, a stout soldier and your faithful servant. He offered, if I came to Paris, to speak to you on my behalf."

"Go on," said Mazarin, with evident interest.

"Shortly after his return to Paris I had the misfortune to offend Baron Maubranne of Vancey, and then my mother, who had before been unwilling to part from me, agreed to my leaving home. I came to Paris, and inquired for my friend at the Palais Royal. The soldiers declared he was absent, which was unfortunate for me. However, I remembered the name of an inn at which another friend sometimes puts up, and I went there."

"One must go somewhere," said Mazarin.

"Yesterday," I continued, "a man brought me a note. It was intended for some one else, but, not knowing that, I opened it. It was very mysterious, but I gathered there was a conspiracy on foot, and that you were to be the victim."

"That is generally the case," exclaimed Mazarin with a sigh.

"As the conspirators mistook me for some one else----"

"For your cousin!"

"I resolved to play the part, in the hope of being able to put you on your guard."

"A remarkable story!" said Mazarin thoughtfully. "Eh, Martin?"

"It seems to ring true, your Eminence," replied the astrologer.

"There are two or three points, though, to be considered. For instance," turning to me, "to which party does this second friend of yours belong?"

"I really do not know that he belongs to any party."

"Well, it is of small consequence. Now, as to the people who came here with you?" and he cast a searching glance at my face.

"I should not recognise them in the street."

"But their names?" he cried impatiently. "You must know at least who their leader was."

"Pardon me," I said quietly, "but I did not undertake to play the spy.

What I learned was by accident."

"You will not tell me?" and he drummed on the table.

"I cannot: it would be dishonourable."

"Oh," said he with a sneer, "honour is not much esteemed in these days!"

"My father has always taught me to look on it as the most important thing in the world."

"A clear proof that he is a stranger to Paris. However, I will not press you. It will ill-suit my purpose to imprison D'Arcy--he is too useful as a conspirator," he added with a chuckle.

I started in surprise at the mention of D'Arcy's name, and the Cardinal smiled.

"At present," he said kindly, "your sword will be of more service to me than your brains. Evidently you are not at home with our Parisian ways. Come, let me give you a lesson on the question and answer principle. How came I to be on my guard? My spies, as it happened, were ignorant of the conspiracy."

"Then one of the plotters betrayed his comrades."

"Precisely. Price--a thousand crowns. Next, how did De Retz discover that the plot was known?"