The Two Dianas: Volume 1 by ALEXANDRE DUMAS - HTML preview

CHAPTER XXXIX
 THE ARMORER'S HOUSE

Pierre Peuquoy's house was located at the corner of the Rue du Martroi and the market-place. On both sides it stood upon broad wooden pillars, such as are still to be seen in the Central Market at Paris. It had two stories, besides one in the roof. On its front wood and brick and stone were arranged in curious arabesques which were symmetrical, though they seemed to have been formed at hazard. In addition the supports of the windows and the great beams showed extraordinary figures of animals twisted into all sorts of amusing shapes. The whole was homely and unpretentious, but not devoid of invention and taste. The broad, high roof projected sufficiently to afford a covering for an outside gallery with a railing, which extended around the whole second floor as in Swiss châlets.

Above the glass door of the shop hung the sign, a sort of wooden banner, so to speak, upon which was a warrior, painted in all the panoply of war, to represent the God Mars, in which undertaking he was assisted no doubt by the following inscription: "Au Dieu Mars. Pierre Peuquoy, Armurier."

On the doorstep stood a complete suit of armor, helmet, breastplate, armlets, and leggings, which served as a realistic sign to such customers as were unable to read.

Moreover, through the leaded panes of the shop-front, other outfits and arms of all sorts, offensive and defensive, could be distinguished, notwithstanding the darkness of the interior. The display of swords, above all, was remarkable for the number and variety and magnificence of the specimens.

Two apprentices, seated under the pillars, were hailing the passers-by, and making most enticing offers of their wares.

Pierre Peuquoy himself was commonly to be found in all his majesty either in his back shop, which looked out on the courtyard, or at his forge, which was set up in a shed at the end of the courtyard. He only appeared when some customer of importance, attracted by the cries of the apprentices, or it may be by Peuquoy's reputation, asked to see the master.

The back shop, which was better lighted than the one in front, served as parlor and dining-room in one. It was wainscoted in oak throughout, and had for furniture a square table with twisted feet, chairs covered with tapestry, and a superb chest of drawers on which was Pierre Peuquoy's chef d'œuvre, executed by himself under his father's eye, when he had served his apprenticeship; it was a beautiful miniature suit of armor, all inlaid with gold, and of the finest and most delicate workmanship. No one could imagine the amount of skill and patience necessary to perfect such a work of art.

Opposite the chest, in a niche in the wainscot, stood a plaster image of the Virgin with a consecrated box. Thus the thought of God was always on guard in the family's living-room.

Another room at right angles to this was almost wholly occupied by a straight wooden stairway which led to the floors above.

Pierre Peuquoy, delighted beyond measure to receive Vicomte d'Exmès and Jean beneath his roof, had actually given up the whole first floor to Gabriel and his cousin; so that there were the guest-chambers. He himself occupied the second floor with his young sister Babette and his children. The wounded squire, Arnauld du Thill, was also accommodated on the second floor; while the apprentices lodged in the attic. In all the rooms, which were convenient and snug, there was an air, if not of wealth, at least of comfort and modest abundance suited to the old-fashioned citizen of every age.

It is at table that we renew our acquaintance with Gabriel and Jean Peuquoy, just as their worthy host has finished doing the honors of a bountiful supper. Babette was waiting upon the guests; and the children were seated at a respectful distance from their elders.

"Great Heaven, Monseigneur," said the armorer, "how little you eat, if you will allow me to say so! You are all anxiety, and Jean is lost in thought; but if the repast is but modest, the heart that offers it is in the right place. At least, have a few of these grapes, for they are very scarce in our country. I learned from my grand-father, who had it from his, that in old days, when the French were masters here, the vineyards of Calais yielded bountifully, and the grapes were golden; but alas! since the town has been English, the grape deceives itself by fancying that it is in England, where it isn't accustomed to grow ripe."

Gabriel could but smile at the strange reasoning in which brave Pierre's patriotism found vent.

"Come," said he, raising his glass, "I drink to the ripening of the grapes of Calais!"

We may readily believe that the Peuquoys responded warmly to such a toast! Supper at an end, Pierre offered thanks while his guests listened, standing bareheaded. Then the children were sent to bed.

"Now you may retire, Babette," said the armorer to his sister. "See that the apprentices don't make too much noise; and before you go to your room, go with Gertrude and inquire if Monsieur le Vicomte's squire is in need of aught."

Pretty Babette blushed, and left the room with a courtesy.

"Now, my dear friend and cousin," said Pierre to Jean, "here we are alone, we three; and if you have any private communication to make to me, I am ready to hear it."

Gabriel looked at Jean in amazement, but he replied with his most serious expression,—

"I did tell you, Pierre, that I had some matters of importance to talk over with you."

"I will withdraw," said Gabriel.

"Pardon me, Monsieur le Vicomte," said Jean, "your presence at our interview is not only useful, but necessary; for without your concurrence the projects which I am about to confide to Pierre will have no chance of success."

"I will listen to you in that case, my friend," said Gabriel, relapsing into his dreamy melancholy.

"Yes, Monseigneur," said the bourgeois, "yes, listen to us; and as you listen, you will raise your head once more with hope, and perhaps (who knows?) with joy."

Gabriel smiled mournfully at the thought that joy would be an unknown friend to him while he remained powerless to do aught to obtain his father's liberty or to make clear his right to Diane's love. Nevertheless, the brave youth turned toward Jean, and motioned to him to proceed.

Then Jean looked gravely at Pierre.

"Cousin," said he, "and more than cousin,—brother,—it is for you to speak first, in order to show Monsieur d'Exmès what reliance may be placed upon your patriotism. So tell us, Pierre, in what sentiments toward France your father brought you up, and was himself reared by his father. Tell us whether you have ever become English at heart, even though you have been English by force of events for above two hundred years. Tell us, last of all, whether if the emergency should arise, you would consider that you owed your blood and your assistance to the old country of your ancestors, or to the new allegiance which has been forced upon you."

"Jean," replied the other bourgeois, with as solemn a mien as his cousin, "I do not know what I should think or how I should feel if I bore an English name, and came of English stock; but I do know by experience that when a family has once been French, whether for a moment only or for more than two centuries, every other domination becomes insupportable to the members of that family, and seems to them as hard and bitter as slavery or banishment; furthermore, that one of my forefathers, Jean, who saw Calais fall into English hands, never spoke of France before his son without weeping, or of England without bitter hate. His son did the same with his own son; and this twofold sentiment of regret and detestation has been handed down from generation to generation without losing any of its strength or changing its form. The air of our old bourgeois houses is a great preservative. The Pierre Peuquoy of two centuries ago lives again in the Pierre Peuquoy of to-day; and with the same French name, I have the same French heart, Jean. The insult as well as the grief is as of yesterday. Say not that I have two countries, Jean; there is, and there can ever be, but one! And if the time comes when I must choose between the country to which men have made me submit and the country which God has given me, be sure that I shall not hesitate."

"You hear, Monseigneur!" cried Jean, turning to Vicomte d'Exmès.

"Yes, my friend, yes, I hear; and it is grand, it is noble!" was Gabriel's reply, albeit he seemed still a little distraught.

"One word, Pierre," said Jean; "unfortunately all our fellow-countrymen here do not think with you, do they? No doubt you are the only child of France to be found in Calais at the end of two hundred years, who has not turned his back upon his mother-country."

"You are wrong, Jean," replied the armorer; "I spoke in general, and not for myself alone. I do not say that every one who bears a French name, as I do, has not forgotten his origin; but many bourgeois families never have ceased to love France, and deeply regret their separation from her; and it is among these families that the Peuquoys like to select their wives. In the civic guard, of which I am a member against my will, there is many a citizen who would break his halberd in twain rather than turn it against a French soldier."

"That's a very good thing to know," muttered Jean Peuquoy, rubbing his hands; "and you must hold some rank in this same civic guard? So well thought of and respected as you are, that goes without saying."

"No, Jean; I have persistently refused all rank, so as to avoid all responsibility."

"So much the worse, and yet so much the better! Is the duty you have to perform a hard one, Pierre? And does your turn come often?"

"Well, yes," said Pierre, "the service is both frequent and hard, because in a place like Calais, the garrison is never large enough. My turn comes the 5th of every month."

"The 5th of every month regularly, Pierre? It seems to me that the English are not prudent to fix every man's day of service in advance."

"Oh," said the armorer, shaking his head, "there is not much danger after holding the place for two centuries. Besides, they can't help being a little suspicious at all times of the civic guard, and take care to station them only at points which are naturally impregnable; for instance, I always do sentry duty on the platform of the Octagonal Tower, which is much more efficiently protected by the sea than by me, and where none but sea-gulls can approach, I think."

"Aha! so you are always on sentry duty on the platform of the Octagonal Tower on the 5th of the month, Pierre?"

"Yes; from four to six in the morning. I was allowed to select my own time, and I prefer that because during three fourths of the year I can see the sun rise out of the ocean at that hour; and that is a divine spectacle even for a poor trader like myself."

"A spectacle so divine, in fact, Pierre," said Jean Peuquoy, lowering his voice, "that if, despite the strength of the position, some bold adventurer should try to scale the side of your Octagonal Tower, you would not see him, I'll wager, so deeply absorbed would you be in contemplating it."

Pierre looked wonderingly at his cousin.

"I should not see him, to be sure," he replied after a moment's hesitation, "for I should know that no one but a Frenchman could have any interest in getting into the city; and since I am under constraint, I have no duty toward those who constrain me,—in tact, rather than repulse the assailant, I might perhaps assist him to get in."

"Well said, Pierre!" cried Jean. "You see, Monseigneur, that Pierre is a devoted Frenchman," he added, addressing Gabriel.

"Yes, indeed I do, Master," replied the latter, still paying little heed in spite of himself to an interview which seemed to him of no use. "I see that he is; but alas! what is the good of his devotion?"

"What good? I am going to tell you," was Jean's response; "for I think it is my turn now to speak. Well, then, Monsieur le Vicomte, if you choose, we can take our revenge for St. Quentin here at Calais. The English, relying upon their two centuries of possession, are slumbering in false security; this sleepy confidence will be their ruin. Monseigneur can see that we have auxiliaries within the town always ready. Let us carefully mature plans; let your intervention with the powers that he come to our aid, and my reason, even more surely than my instinct, tells me that a bold stroke will make us masters of the town. You understand me, do you not, Monseigneur?"

"Yes, yes, to be sure!" Gabriel replied, having actually heard nothing, but being aroused by this direct appeal from his revery. "Yes, your cousin wishes to return, does he not, to our fair kingdom of France,—to be transferred to some French town, Amiens, for instance? Very well; I will speak to my Lord Wentworth about it, and to Monsieur de Guise as well. The thing may easily be arranged; and my assistance, which you request, shall not fail you. Go on, my friend; I am quite at your service. Certainly I am listening."

And again he relapsed into his omnipotent distraction. For the voice he was listening to at that moment was not, in truth, Jean Peuquoy's; no, it was the voice of King Henri in his own heart, giving the order, upon hearing the admiral's account of the siege of St. Quentin, to release the Comte de Montgommery on the spot. Again, it was the voice of his father, proving to him (for he was still gloomy and jealous) that Diane was indeed the daughter of his becrowned rival. Finally, it was the voice of Diane herself, which, after so many bitter trials, was able to say to him, and which he could hear give forth those divine words of sweetest meaning, "Truly I love you!"

It is easy to understand that while dreaming such delightful dreams as these, he could hardly listen to the daring and confident schemes of the worthy Jean.

The solemn burgher appeared somewhat hurt that Gabriel had vouchsafed so little attention to a scheme which certainly did not lack grandeur and courage, and it was with some chagrin that he rejoined.

"If Monseigneur had condescended to lend a somewhat less preoccupied ear to what I was saying, he would have noticed that our ideas, Pierre's and mine, were not so personal and less contemptible than he seems to think them."

Gabriel made no response.

"He does not hear us, Jean," said Pierre Peuquoy, calling his cousin's attention to the fresh absorption of his guest. "Perhaps he has some plan, some personal passion of his own."

"At all events, his cannot be less selfish than ours," retorted Jean, in a tone not free from bitterness. "I should even say that this gentleman was indeed selfish had I not seen him defying danger with a sort of fury, and actually exposing his life too, to save mine; still, he ought to have listened when I was earnestly looking for the glory and welfare of our common country. Without him, however, with all our zealous ardor, we shall be only helpless tools, Pierre. So far we possess the right feeling! We lack brain and power."

"Never mind! the sentiment is a good one, for I heard it and understood it, brother," said the armorer.

And the two cousins solemnly grasped each other's hands.

"Meanwhile, we must give up our idea, or at least postpone trying to carry it out," said Jean; "for what can the arm do without the head, or the people without the nobility?"

And then this burgher of the olden time added with a meaning smile,—

"Until the day when the people shall be the arm and the head at once!”

END OF VOL. I.