CHAPTER XII
A TWOFOLD KNAVE
The constable left the king's presence buried in thought. Master Arnauld du Thill put himself in his way, and accosted him in a low voice.
This took place in the grand gallery of the Louvre,
"Monseigneur, one word—"
"Who is it?" said the constable. "Ah, you, Arnauld? What do you want with me? I am hardly in trim to listen to you to-day."
"Yes, I imagined," said Arnauld, "that Monseigneur was vexed by the turn which the marriage project concerning Madame Diane and Monseigneur François has taken."
"How did you know that, you rascal? But after all, what does it matter who knows it? The wind is from a stormy quarter, and favors the Guises, that is sure."
"But to-morrow it may be a fair wind for the Montmorencys," said the spy; "and if there is none but the king against this marriage to-day, why, he will be for it to-morrow. No, the fresh obstacle which bars our way, Monseigneur, is a more serious one, and comes from another quarter."
"And whence can come a more serious obstacle than the disapprobation or even lukewarmness of the king?"
"From Madame d'Angoulême herself, for instance," replied Arnauld.
"You have scented something in that quarter, have you, my keen hound?" said the constable, drawing nearer to him, and evidently becoming interested.
"And how did Monseigneur suppose that I had passed the fortnight that has elapsed?"
"True, it is a long while since I have heard a word of you."
"Neither directly nor indirectly, Monseigneur," replied Arnauld, proudly; "and you, who used to reproach me for being mentioned rather too often in the police-patrol reports, must confess, I think, that for two weeks I have worked shrewdly and quietly."
"True again," said the constable; "and I have been surprised that I haven't had to intervene to get you out of trouble, you varlet, who are always drinking when you're not gambling, and rioting when you're not fighting.”
"And the troublesome hero of the last fifteen days has been not I, Monseigneur, but a certain squire of the new captain of the Guards, Vicomte d'Exmès, one Martin-Guerre."
"Yes, I remember now that Martin-Guerre's name has taken Arnauld du Thill's place in the report that I have to examine every evening."
"For instance, who was picked up drunk by the watch the other night?" asked Arnauld.
"Martin-Guerre."
"And who, after a quarrel at the gaming-table on account of dice found to be cogged, struck with his sword the finest of the king's gendarmes?"
"Martin-Guerre again."
"And who only yesterday was taken in the act of trying to carry off the wife of Master Gorju, the ironmonger?"
"Always this same Martin-Guerre," said the constable. "An abominable rascal, to be sure. And his master, this Vicomte d'Exmès, whom I instructed you to keep a sharp watch on, is not likely to be of much more worth than he; for he upholds and defends him, and vows that his squire is the mildest and most sedate of men."
"That is what you used to have the goodness to say of me, Monseigneur. Martin-Guerre believes that he is possessed by the Devil, whereas in truth it is I who possess him."
"What! What do you mean? You are not Satan, are you?" cried the constable, crossing himself in his terror, for he was as ignorant as a fool, and as superstitious as a monk.
Master Arnauld replied only with an infernal leer; but when he thought he had alarmed Montmorency sufficiently, he said,—
"Oh, no, I am not the Devil, Monseigneur. To prove it to you and to reassure you, I ask you to give me fifty pistoles. Now, if I were the Devil, should I have any need of money, and couldn't I draw myself out of all my scrapes with my tail?"
"That's true," said the constable; "and here are your fifty pistoles."
"Which I have well earned, Monseigneur, by gaining the confidence of Vicomte d'Exmès; for although I am not the Devil, I am a bit of a sorcerer, and have only to don a certain brown doublet, and draw on certain yellow breeches, to make Vicomte d'Exmès speak to me as if I were an old friend and a tried confidant."
"Hm! all this has a smack of the gallows," said the constable.
"Master Nostradamus, just from seeing me pass in the street, predicted for me, after one glance at my face, that I should die between heaven and earth. So I resign myself to my destiny, and devote it to your interests, Monseigneur. To know that one is to be hung is a priceless advantage. A man who is sure of meeting his end on the gallows, fears nothing, not even the gallows themselves. To begin with, I have made myself the double of Vicomte d'Exmès's squire. I told you that I would accomplish miracles! Now, do you know, or can you guess, who this viscount is?"
"Parbleu! a lawless partisan of the Guises."
"Better than that. The accepted lover of Madame de Castro."
"What's that you say, villain? How do you know that?"
"I am the viscount's confidant, as I told you. It is I who generally carry his notes to the fair one, and bring back the reply. I am on the best of terms with the lady's maid, who is astonished only to have so changeable a lover,—bold as a page one day, and the next day as shy as a nun. The viscount and Madame de Castro meet at the queen's levees three times a week, and write every day. However, you may believe me or not, their affection is absolutely pure. Upon my word, I should be interested for them, if I were not interested for myself. They love each other like cherubs, and have from childhood, so far as I can make out. I have opened their letters now and then, and they have really moved me. Madame Diane is jealous; and of whom, do you suppose, Monseigneur? Of the queen! But she is altogether wrong, poor child. It may be that the queen thinks about Monsieur d'Exmès—"
"Arnauld," the constable interposed, "you are a slanderer!"
"And that smile of yours is quite as slanderous as my words," replied the blackguard. "I was saying that while it might well be that the queen was thinking about the viscount, it is perfectly certain that the viscount is not thinking about the queen. Their young loves are Arcadian in their simplicity and perfectly irreproachable, and move me like a gentle pastoral of ancient Rome or of the days of chivalry; and yet it doesn't prevent me, God help me, from betraying them for fifty pistoles, the poor little turtle-doves! But confess, Monseigneur, that I was right in saying, as I did at first, that I have well earned those same fifty pistoles."
"Indeed you have," said the constable; "but once more I ask you how you have come to be so well informed?"
"Ah, Monseigneur, pardon me; that is my secret, which you may try to guess if you choose, but which I certainly shall not disclose. Besides, my means of information are of little consequence to you (for I alone am responsible for them, after all) provided you attain your end. Now, your end is to be informed as to all proceedings and plans which may tend to injure you; and it seems to me that my revelation of to-day is not unimportant, and may be of great use to you, Monseigneur."
"You are quite right, you rascal; but you must continue to play the spy on this damned viscount."
"I will, Monseigneur; I am as devoted to you as I am to vice. You will give me pistoles, and I will give you words, and we shall both be content. Ah, there's some one coming into the gallery. A woman! The devil! I must bid you adieu, Monseigneur."
"Who is it, pray?" asked the constable, whose sight was beginning to fail.
"Good Lord! it's Madame de Castro herself, who is going to the king, no doubt; and it is very important that she should not see me with you, Monseigneur, although she wouldn't know me in this dress. She is coming this way, and I must avoid her."
And he made his escape in the opposite direction from that in which Diane was coming.
The constable hesitated a moment; then, making up his mind to satisfy himself of the accuracy of Arnauld's report, he advanced boldly to meet Madame d'Angoulême.
"Were you going to the king's closet, Madame?" said he.
"I was, Monsieur le Connétable."
"I am much afraid that you will not find his Majesty disposed to listen to you, Madame," replied Montmorency, naturally alarmed at this step; "and the serious news he has received—"
"Make this just the very most opportune moment for me, Monsieur."
"And against me, Madame, am I not right? For you have bitter enmity for us."
"Alas, Monsieur le Connétable, I have no enmity against anybody in the world."
"Have you really nothing in your heart but love?" asked De Montmorency, in so meaning a tone that Diane Mushed and lowered her eyes. "And it is on account of that love, no doubt, that you oppose the king's wishes and the hopes of my son?"
Diane in her embarrassment held her peace.
"Arnauld has told me the truth," thought the constable; "and she does love this handsome triumphal messenger of Monsieur de Guise."
"Monsieur le Connétable," Diane found strength to say at last, "my duty calls upon me to yield obedience to the king, but I have the right to implore my father."
"And so," said the constable, "you persist in going to find the king."
"Indeed I do."
"Oh, well! then I shall go and see Madame de Valentinois, Madame."
"As you please, Monsieur."
They bowed, and left the gallery by opposite doors; and as Diane entered the king's closet, old Montmorency was ushered into the favorite's apartments.