La Dame de Monsoreau (86 page)

" I was so uneasy I couldn't stay in."

Remy shrugged his shoulders, carried off Bussy, and saw to it that he was seated before a well-supplied table behind closed doors, while M. de Monsoreau passed out of Angers by the same gate as on the previous evening.

The count had had his own reasons for requesting to be allowed to ride Roland again : he wanted to make sure whether it was chance or habit that had guided this animal, so universally praised for his intelligence, to the park wall.

As soon as Monsoreau was outside the palace grounds he dropped the reins on the horse's neck.

Roland did exactly what his rider expected him to do.

As soon as he was beyond the gate he turned to the left. M. de Monsoreau gave him full liberty to do so. After a time he swerved to the right; M. de Monsoreau did not interfere with him this time either.

Horse and rider soon found themselves in the charming flowery path already mentioned, then near the thicket and among the giant trees.

Just as had happened 011 the evening before, Roland's trot quickened as they approached Meridor, and speedily changed into a gallop. At the end of forty or fifty minutes the count was in sight of the wall — in sight of that part of it with which he was already acquainted.

But the place was now solitary and silent ; no neigh heard ; no horse was seen, either tied to a tree or wandering at liberty.

M. de Monsoreau alighted ; but; to make sure that he should not have to return on foot to Angers this time, he held the reins while he climbed the wall.

The park was as quiet and lonely within the enclosure as without. The long avenues were unrolled before his eyes, until they were lost in the distance, and a few bounding roebucks alone gave a touch of life to the deserted turf of the vast greenswards.

The count concluded it was useless to waste his time in watching for people who were on their guard, and who, alarmed at his appearance on the previous evening, had either postponed their meetings or selected another place for them. He mounted again, turned into a little side path, and, after a quarter of an hour, during which he had to keep a tight rein over Roland, he reached the portcullis.

The baron, to keep his dogs up to the mark, was giving them a touch of the lash at the time the count was passing over the drawbridge.

As soon as he saw his son-in-law he advanced ceremoniously to meet him.

Diane, seated under a magnificent sycamore, was reading the poems of Marot. Gertrude, her faithful attendant, was embroidering by her side.

The count, after saluting the baron, perceived the two women.

He jumped from his horse and approached them.

Diane rose, advanced three steps to meet the count, and made him a grave courtesy.

" What coolness ! or, rather, what perfidy ! " murmured the count. " What a tempest I shall raise on the bosom of those stagnant waters! "

A lackey came up. The grand huntsman threw him the reins, and turned to Diane.

" Madame," said he, " may I speak with you privately for a few moments ? "

" Of course, monsieur," answered Diane.

" Do you intend doing us the honor of staying at the castle, M. le Comte ? " inquired the baron.

" Yes, monsieur; at least until to-morrow,"

The baron withdrew to inspect the chamber of his son-in-law and see that all the laws of hospitality were observed in his regard.

Monsoreau motioned Diane to the chair in which she had been sitting; he himself sat down on that of Gertrude, at the same time bending a look on his wife that would have intimidated the most resolute man.

" Madame," said he, " who was with you in the park yesterday evening ? "

Diane gazed at her husband with pure and limpid eyes.

" At what hour, monsieur ? " she asked, in tones from which the power of her will had succeeded in banishing all emotion.

" At six."

« In what place ? "

" Near the old thicket."

" It must have been one of my friends who took a walk in that direction; certainly it was not I."

" It was you, madame," said Monsoreau.

" Why, how can you know ? "

For a moment Monsoreau was struck dumb, and could not utter a word in reply, but his anger soon got the better of his stupefaction.

" Tell me the name of this man," said he.

"Of what man?"

" The man who was walking with you."

"How can I tell you when I was not out walking at the time?"

" It was you, I tell you," cried Monsoreau, stamping on the ground.

" You are mistaken, monsieur," replied Diane, coldly.

" Why do you dare to deny it when I saw you ? "

" Saw me yourself, monsieur ? "

" Yes, madame ; saw you myself. Why, then, do you dare to deny it was you, since you are the only woman staying at Meridor?"

" There, again, you are mistaken, monsieur; Jeanne de Bris-sac is here."

" Madame de Saint-Luc ? "

" Yes, Madame de Saint-Luc, who is my friend."

" And M. de Saint-Luc ? "

" Never leaves his wife, as you know; theirs was a marriage of love ; it was M. de Saint-Luc and Madame de Saint-Luc you saw."

" It was not M. de Saint-Luc; • it was not Madame de Saint-Luc. It was you, whom I recognized perfectly, with a man whom I do not know, but whom I will know, I swear to you."

" Do you persist in saying it was I, monsieur ? "

" Why, I tell you I recognized you; I tell you I heard the cry you uttered."

" When you have recovered your senses, monsieur, I shall be ready to listen to you ; at present, I think I had better retire."

" No, madame," exclaimed Monsoreau, holding Diane by the arm, " you shall remain! "

" Monsieur," said Diane, " M. and Madame de Saint-Luc are coming toward us. I hope you will show a little self-restraint in their presence."

Diane was right. Saint-Luc and his wife had just come into view at the end of an alley, evidently summoned by the dinner-bell, which was now set a-going again, as if to inform Moii-soreau that he was the only loiterer.

Both recognized the count, and, guessing that their presence was likely to relieve Diane from great embarrassment, they advanced quickly.

Madame de Saint-Luc made a sweeping reverence to M. de Monsoreau.

Saint-Luc offered his hand cordially.

After the usual compliments, Saint-Luc handed his wife to Monsoreau and took Diane's arm himself.

Dinner always began at nine in the manor of Meridor; it was an old custom, dating from the times of good King Louis XII., which the baron observed in all its integrity.

M. de Monsoreau found that the seat assigned him was between Saint-Luc and his wife.

Diane, separated from her husband by her friend's skilful manoeuvring, sat between Saint-Luc and the baron.

The conversation was general: it naturally turned on the arrival of the King's brother at Angers and the condition of affairs his arrival was likely to create in the province.

Monsoreau tried to lead it to other subjects; but the others showed such a decided disinclination to follow him that he had to give up the attempt in despair.

It was not that Saint-Luc refused to answer his questions, quite the contrary; he courted and nattered the furious husband in the most charming manner imaginable, and Diane, who, owing to Saint-Luc's prattle, was able to remain silent, thanked him with many an eloquent look.

" This Saint-Luc is an idiot," said the count to himself, " and chatters like a magpie; he's the very man to let out the secret I want to know; I '11 tear it from him some way or other."

M. de Monsoreau did not know Saint-Luc, having come to court only just at the moment when the .latter was leaving it.

So, having this idea of the young man, he answered him with a politeness that gave great pleasure to Diane and contributed to the general comfort of the baron's guests.

Moreover, Madame de Monsoreau could read a look in Saint-Luc's eyes that said plainly :

" Do not be uneasy, madame, for I am devising a plan."

What Saint-Luc's plan was we shall learn in the next chapter.

CHAPTER LXV.

SAINT-LUC'S PLAN.

WHEN dinner was over, Monsoreau took his new friend's arm and passed with him out of the castle.

" I cannot tell you how delighted I am to find you here," said he ; " the loneliness of Meridor positively frightened me."

" Oh, that cannot be," answered Saint-Luc. u Have you not your wife ? With such a companion I fancy I should not find a desert lonely."

" I do not say that you may not be right," said Monsoreau, biting his lips. " Still " —

" Still what ? "

" Still, I am very glad to have met you here."

" Monsieur," said Saint-Luc, all the time using a little gold tooth-pick, " it is your politeness makes you say so; I will not believe that you can ever be bored in the company of such a wife and living in such a beautiful country."

" Bah! " answered Monsoreau, " I have spent half my life in the woods."

" The more reason, then, why they should not bore you. In my opinion, the more familiar you are with these woods, the more you must love them. I shall feel very badly myself, I can tell you, when I am forced to leave them, and, unfortunately, I fear I shall have to do so before long."

" Why should you leave them ? "

" Oh, monsieur, is man ever the master of his fate ? He is like a leaf that is parted from the tree and blown about by the

wind over valley and plain, unconscious whither it is going. But you must be very happy."

" Happy on account of what ? "

" Dwelling beneath these magnificent elms."

"Oh, I fancy I shall not dwell beneath them very long, either."

" Nonsense ! you cannot be serious. What do you mean ? "

" Well, I am not such a passionate lover of nature as you are, and, I confess, I have my misgivings about this park you admire so greatly."

" Misgivings about the park, you say ! And for what reason ?"

" I do not think it safe."

" Not safe ! You surprise me ! " and Saint-Luc did look really astonished. " Is it because it is so isolated ? "

11 No, not on account of that exactly; for I presume you see a good deal of company at Meridor."

"Faith, we don't," replied Saint-Luc, in his most artless manner, " not a soul."

" You amaze me ! "

" I give you my word of honor that what I say is perfectly true."

" What! do you never receive any visitors ? "

" There have been none here since I came, at least."

" And has not a single gentleman from that fine court of ours at Angers ever found his way here ? "

" Not one."

" That is impossible ! "

" Maybe, but it is true."

" Oh, for shame ! You are calumniating our Angevine gentlemen."

" I don't know whether I 'm calumniating them or not. But devil take me if I have caught a glimpse of one of their plumes all the time that I have been in this neighborhood."

" Then I am wrong on that point."

" Oh, entirely wrong. But let us come back to what you were just say ing about the park not being safe. Are there any bears around ? "

"Oh, no."

" Wolves ? "

"None either."

"Robbers?"

" Perhaps. By the way, my dear friend, you have a very beautiful wife, have you not?"

" Oh, yes, I think so.'.'

" Does Madame de Saint-Luc walk often in the park ? "

" Very often; like myself, she is very fond of the country. But why do you ask me such a question ? "

" Oh, I had no particular reason. I suppose you are with her when she walks ? "

" Always," said Saint-Luc.

" You mean almost always," continued the count.

" But what the devil are you driving at ? "

" Good heavens ! my dear Saint-Luc, at nothing, or, at least, at next to nothing."

" I listen."

« Well, I have been told "

" What have you been told ? Go on."

"You will not be angry?"

" I am never angry."

" Besides, between husbands these confidences are admissible ; I have been told that a man was seen prowling in the park."

« A man ? "

« Yes."

" Coining after my wife ? "

" Oh, I do not say that."

" You would be entirely in the wrong if you did not say it, my dear M. de Monsoreau ; such information must certainly have the greatest interest for me — and who saw him, if you please ? "

" What is the good of saying more ? "

" Oh, say everything. We came out for a talk, did we not ? Well, we may as well talk about this as anything else. You say this man was after Madame de Saint-Luc. Oho ! — egad, that looks serious ! "

" Listen, I may as well make a clean breast of it; no, I do not believe he was looking for Madame de Saint-Luc."

" And for whom, pray ? "

" I am afraid it was for Diane."

" Ah," cried Saint-Luc, " that pleases me much better."

" Why should it please you better ? "

" Why should n't it ? You know we husbands are the most selfish race in the world : Every man for himself and God for us all! "

" Or rather the devil ! " added Monsoreau.

" Then you really believe a man got into the park ? "

" I saw him ; seeing is believing." . " You saw a man in the park ? "

" Yes," said Monsoreau.

" Alone ? "

" With Madame de Monsoreau."

" When ? " asked Saint-Luc.

" Yesterday."

« Where ? "

" There, on the left. Look."

And as Monsoreau had been walking with Saint-Luc in the direction of the old thicket, he was able to point out the exact place to his companion from where they stood.

" Hum ! " said Saint-Luc, " that wall is in a very bad condition ; I must inform the baron that some one or other is injuring his property."