A Gentleman of France: Being the Memoirs of Gaston de Bonne Sieur de Marsac by - (ereader manga txt) 📖

the house was full and they had no sleeping room, the late events having drawn a great assemblage to Blois.

‘I want only an address,’ I answered, leaning from the saddle and speaking in a low voice that I might not be overheard by the passers-by. ‘The Baron de Rosny is in Blois, is he not?’

The man started at the name of the Huguenot leader, and looked round him nervously. But, seeing that no one was very near us, he answered: ‘He was, sir; but he left town a week ago and more. ‘There have been strange doings here, and M. de Rosny thought that the climate suited him ill.’

He said this with so much meaning, as well as concern that he should not be overheard, that, though I was taken aback and bitterly disappointed, I succeeded in restraining all exclamations and even show of feeling. After a pause of dismay, I asked whither M. de Rosny had gone.

‘To Rosny,’ was the answer.

‘And Rosny?’

‘Is beyond Chartres, pretty well all the way to Mantes,’ the man answered, stroking my horse’s neck. ‘Say thirty leagues.’

I turned my horse, and hurriedly communicated what he said to mademoiselle, who was waiting a few paces away. Unwelcome to me, the news was still less welcome to her. Her chagrin and indignation knew no bounds. For a moment words failed her, but her flashing eyes said more than her tongue as she cried to me: ‘Well, sir, and what now? Is this the end of your fine promises? Where is your Rosny, if all be not a lying invention of your own?’

Feeling that she had some excuse I suppressed my choler, and humbly repeating that Rosny was at his house, two days farther on, and that I could see nothing for it but to go to him, I asked the landlord where we could find a lodging for the night.

‘Indeed, sir, that is more than I can say,’ he answered, looking curiously at us, and thinking, I doubt not, that with my shabby cloak and fine horse, and mademoiselle’s mask and spattered riding-coat, we were an odd couple. ‘There is not an inn which is not full to the garrets—nay, and the stables; and, what is more, people are chary of taking strangers in. These are strange times. They say,’ be continued in a lower tone, ‘that the old queen is dying up there, and will not last the night.’

I nodded. ‘We must go somewhere’ I said.

‘I would help you if I could,’ he answered, shrugging his shoulders. ‘But there it is! Blois is full from the tiles to the cellars.’

My horse shivered under me, and mademoiselle, whose patience was gone, cried harshly to me to do something. ‘We cannot spend the night in the streets,’ she said fiercely.

I saw that she was worn out and scarcely mistress of herself. The light was falling, and with it some rain. The reek of the kennels and the close air from the houses seemed to stifle us. The bell at the church behind us was jangling out vespers. A few people, attracted by the sight of our horses standing before the inn, had gathered round and were watching us.

Something I saw must be done, and done quickly. In despair, and seeing no other resort, I broached a proposal of which I had not hitherto even dreamed. ‘Mademoiselle,’ I said bluntly, ‘I must take you to my mother’s.’

‘To your mother’s, sir?’ she cried, rousing herself. Her voice rang with haughty surprise.

‘Yes,’ I replied brusquely; ‘since, as you say, we cannot spend the night in the streets, and I do not know where else I can dispose of you. From the last advices I had I believe her to have followed the court hither. My friend,’ I continued, turning to the landlord, ‘do you know by name a Madame de Bonne, who should be in Blois?’

‘A Madame de Bonne!’ he muttered, reflecting. ‘I have heard the name lately. Wait a moment.’ Disappearing into the house, he returned almost immediately, followed by a lanky pale-faced youth wearing a tattered black soutane. ‘Yes,’ he said nodding, ‘there is a worthy lady of that name lodging in the next street, I am told. As it happens, this young man lives in the same house, and will guide you, if you like.’

I assented, and, thanking him for his information, turned my horse and requested the youth to lead the way. We had scarcely passed the corner of the street, however, and entered one somewhat more narrow and less frequented, when mademoiselle, who was riding behind me, stopped and called to me. I drew rein, and, turning, asked what it was.

‘I am not coming,’ she said, her voice trembling slightly, but whether with alarm or anger I could not determine. ‘I know nothing of you, and I—I demand to be taken to M. de Rosny.’

‘If you cry that name aloud in the streets of Blois, mademoiselle,’ I retorted, ‘you are like enough to be taken whither you will not care to go! As for M. de Rosny, I have told you that he is not here. He has gone to his seat at Mantes.’

‘Then take me to him!’

‘At this hour of the night?’ I said drily. ‘It is two days’ journey from here.’

‘Then I will go to an inn,’ she replied sullenly.

‘You have heard that there is no room in the inns’ I rejoined with what patience I could. ‘And to go from inn to inn at this hour might lead us into trouble. I can assure you that I am as much taken aback by M. de Rosny’s absence as you are. For the present, we are close to my mother’s lodging, and—’

‘I know nothing of your mother!’ she exclaimed passionately, her voice raised. ‘You have enticed me hither by false pretences, sir, and I will endure it no longer. I will—’

‘What you will do, I do not know then, mademoiselle,’ I replied, quite at my wits’ end; for what with the rain and the darkness, the unknown streets—in which our tarrying might at any moment collect a crowd—and this stubborn girl’s opposition, I knew not whither to turn. ‘For my part I can suggest nothing else. It does not become me to speak of my mother,’ I continued, ‘or I might say that even Mademoiselle de la Vire need not be ashamed to accept the hospitality of Madame de Bonne. Nor are my mother’s circumstances,’ I added proudly, ‘though narrow, so mean as to deprive her of the privileges of her birth.’

My last words appeared to make some impression upon my companion. She turned and spoke to her woman, who replied in a low voice, tossing her head the while and glaring at me in speechless indignation. Had there been anything else for it, they would doubtless have flouted my offer still; but apparently Fanchette could suggest nothing, and presently mademoiselle, with a sullen air, bade me lead on.

Taking this for permission, the lanky youth in the black soutane, who had remained at my bridle throughout the discussion, now listening and now staring, nodded and resumed his way; and I followed. After proceeding a little more than fifty yards he stopped before a mean-looking doorway, flanked by grated windows, and