The Regent's Daughter by Alexandre Dumas père (book recommendations txt) 📖

lion; and now Monsieur the Chemist and Monsieur the Secretary, do me the favor to take your bird and letters elsewhere."

"Why so?" asked the regent.

"Because I have important business to speak of with you."

"Go to the devil with your important business; it is too late: come to-morrow."

"Monseigneur," said Dubois, "do not force me to remain till to-morrow in this villainous disguise."

"Do what you please, but I have decided that the rest of this day shall be given to pleasure."

"Well, I come to propose a disguise to you also."

"A disguise! what do you mean, Dubois?" asked the regent, who thought it was probably one of his ordinary masquerades.

"Ah, it makes your mouth water, Monsieur Alain."

"Speak; what do you want to do?"

"First send away your chemist and secretary."

"You still wish it?"----"Decidedly."

"Very well, then."

The regent signed to them to leave: they did so.

"And now," said he, "what is it?"

"I want to present to you, monseigneur, a young man, a very delightful fellow, just arrived from Bretagne, and strongly recommended to me."

"His name?"

"The Chevalier Gaston de Chanlay."

"De Chanlay!" said the regent, "the name is not unknown to me."

"Indeed."

"Yes, I think I have heard it formerly; but I do not remember where or how. What does your protege come to Paris for?"

"Monseigneur, I shall leave him to tell you that himself."

"Tell it to me."

"Yes; that is to say, to the Duc d'Olivares, whom you are about to personate. Ah, my protege is a discreet conspirator, and I have had some trouble to get at the truth of things. He was addressed to Paris, to a certain La Jonquiere, who was to present him to the Duc d'Olivares. Do you understand now?"

"Not at all."

"Well, I have been Captain la Jonquiere, but I cannot be both La Jonquiere and his excellency."

"So, you reserve that part--"

"For you, monseigneur."

"Thank you. So you think that, under a false name, I will get at the secrets--"

"Of your enemies, monseigneur," interrupted Dubois. "Pardieu! what a dreadful crime, and how it would distress you, to change name and dress; you have never before learned secrets by such means. But remember, monseigneur, our many disguises, and after being called M. Alain and Maitre Jean, you may well, I think, without anything derogatory to your dignity, be called Le Duc d'Olivares."

"I ask no better than a disguise for amusement, but--"

"But a disguise," continued Dubois, "to preserve the peace of France, to prevent traitors from overthrowing the kingdom, to prevent assassins from murdering you--this, I suppose, is unworthy of you. I understand; ah, if it were only in pursuit of some little ironmongress in the Pont Neuf, or the pretty widow of the Rue Saint Augustine, it might be worth your while."

"If I do what you wish," said the regent, "what will be the result?"

"Probably, that you will own that I am no visionary, and that you will allow others to watch over you, since you will not watch over yourself."

"But, once for all, if the thing turns out not worth the trouble, shall I be freed from your worrying?"

"I promise you, on my honor."

"Abbe, if you have no objection, I should prefer another oath."

"Oh, monseigneur, you are too hard; but you consent?"

"Again this folly."

"You shall see if it be folly."

"I believe you make plots to frighten me."

"Then they are well made; you shall see."

"Are you certain?"

"Absolutely."

"If I am not frightened, look to yourself."

"Monseigneur exacts too much."

"You are not sure, Dubois."

"I swear to you, monsieur, that you will be moved, and will be glad to speak with his excellency's tongue."

And Dubois went out before the regent had time to withdraw his consent.

Five minutes after, a courier entered the antechamber, and gave a letter to a page, who brought it to the regent.

"Madame Desroches," said he, looking at the writing, and, breaking the seal, read as follows:


"MONSEIGNEUR--The young lady you left in my charge does
not appear to be in safety here."


"Bah," exclaimed the regent, and then read on--


"The residence in the town, which your highness feared
for her, would be a hundred times better than
isolation; and I do not feel strong enough to defend
her as I would wish, and as I ought."


"Ouais," said the regent, "it seems something is the matter."


"A young man, who had written to Mademoiselle Helene
shortly before your arrival yesterday, presented
himself this morning at the pavilion; I wished to
refuse him admittance, but mademoiselle so peremptorily
ordered me to admit him, and to retire, that in her
look and tone I recognized the blood which commands."


"Yes, yes," said the regent, "she is, indeed, my daughter; but who can this young man be? Some coxcomb she must have seen in the convent parlor." Then he read on:


"I believe, monseigneur, that this young man and
mademoiselle have met before. I did not think it wrong
to listen, for your highness's service, and in spite of
the double door I once heard him say, 'To see you as
formerly.' Will your royal highness secure me against
this danger, and send me a written order which I can
use to shelter myself from the anger of mademoiselle."


"Diable!" exclaimed the regent, "it cannot be a love affair already; brought up in the only convent in France where men never pass the parlor. No, it is some foolish fear of Madame Desroches; but let us see what else she writes."


"P. S.--I have just been to the hotel Tigre-Royal for
information. The young man arrived yesterday evening at
seven o'clock, just three-quarters of an hour before
mademoiselle; he came by the Bretagne road, that is,
the road she also came. He travels under the name of M.
de Livry."


"Oh!" said the regent, "this looks like a concerted plan. Pardieu! Dubois would laugh if he knew this; how he would talk! It is to be hoped he knows nothing of it, in spite of his police. Hola! page."

The page who had brought the letter entered.

"Where is the messenger from Rambouillet?"

"He is waiting for an answer."

"Give him this, and tell him to start at once."

As to Dubois, while preparing the interview between Gaston and the false duke, he made the following calculation.

"I hold the regent both by himself and his daughter. This intrigue of his is either serious or not; if it be not, I distress her in exaggerating it. If it be serious, I have the merit of having discovered it; but I must not strike both blows at once. First, I must save the duke, then his daughter, and there will be two rewards.--Is that the best?--Yes--the duke first--if a young girl falls, no one suffers, if a man falls, a kingdom is lost, let us begin with the duke." And Dubois dispatched a courier to M. de Montaran at Nantes.

M. de Montaran was, as we have said, the ancient governor of Bretagne.

As to Gaston, his plan was fixed. Ashamed of being associated with a man like Jonquiere, he congratulated himself that he was now to communicate with the chief of the enterprise, and resolved, if he also appeared base and venial, to return and take counsel with his friends at Nantes. As to Helene, he doubted not; he knew her courage and her love, and that she would die rather than have to blush before her dearest friend. He saw with joy that the happiness of finding a father did not lead her to forget the past, but still he had his fears as to this mysterious paternity; even a king would own such a daughter, were there not some disgraceful obstacle.

Gaston dressed himself carefully; there is a coquetry in danger as well as in pleasure, and he embellished his youth with every advantage of costume.

The regent, by Dubois's advice, dressed in black velvet and half hid his face in an immense cravat of Mechlin lace.

The interview was to take place in a house belonging to the regent, in the Faubourg Saint Germain: he arrived there at five o'clock, as night was falling.


CHAPTER XVI.

MONSEIGNEUR, WE ARE BRETONS.

Gaston remained in the room on the ground-floor, and dressed himself carefully, as we have said, while Tapin continued his apprenticeship. By the evening he knew how to measure a pint as well as his predecessor, and even better; for he thought that in the compensation which would be given to Bourguignon, waste would be considered, and that therefore the less waste the better; so the morning's customer on her return got badly served, and went off disgusted.

When his toilet was finished, Gaston began to inspect La Jonquiere's library, and found it composed of three sets of books: theatrical books, obscene books, and arithmetical books.

While he was thus engaged a man entered, introduced by Tapin, who went out directly, and left him alone with Gaston. The man announced that Captain La Jonquiere, not being able to return, had sent him in his stead. Gaston demanding proof, the man showed a letter in the same terms and the same writing as the specimen Gaston had received, and then the half coin, after which Gaston made no difficulty as to following him, and both got into a carefully closed carriage. They crossed the Pont-Neuf, and, in the Rue du Bac, stopped at the courtyard of a pavilion; then the man drew from his pocket the paper bearing the chevalier's name as the third signal of recognition.

Gaston and his companion alighted, ascended the four steps of the doorway, and entered a large circular corridor surrounding the pavilion. Gaston looked round and saw that his guide had disappeared, and that he was alone.

His heart beat quickly. He was about to face, not the tool, but the master and originator of the whole plot, the representative of a king; he was to play a kingdom against a kingdom.

A bell sounded within.

Gaston almost trembled. He looked in a glass and saw that he was pale; a thousand new ideas assailed him; the door opened, and La Jonquiere appeared.

"Come, chevalier," said he, "we are expected."

Gaston advanced with a firm step.

They found a man seated in an armchair, his back turned to the door. A single light, placed on a table and covered with a shade, lighted only the lower part of his body; his head and shoulders were in shadow.

Gaston thought the face noble, and understood at once that this was a man of worth, and no La Jonquiere. The mouth was benevolent and the eyes large, bold, and firm, like those of a king or a bird of prey; deep thought was written on his brow, prudence and some degree of firmness in the lower part of the face; all this, however, in the half-darkness, and in spite of the Mechlin cravat.

"At least this is an eagle," thought he,