Historical Romances: Under the Red Robe, Count Hannibal, A Gentleman of France. Weyman Stanley John

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Historical Romances: Under the Red Robe, Count Hannibal, A Gentleman of France - Weyman Stanley John

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left to us."

      "Very well," I said. "Then I must deal with Clon as I can. But I have still a favour to ask, Mademoiselle. It is only that you and your sister will descend to-morrow at your usual time. I shall be in the parlour."

      "I would rather not," she said, pausing and speaking in a troubled voice.

      "Are you afraid?"

      "No, Monsieur; I am not afraid," she answered proudly. "But-"

      "You will come?" I said.

      She sighed before she spoke. At length, "Yes, I will come-if you wish it," she answered; and the next moment she was gone round the corner of the house, while I laughed to think of the excellent watch these gallant gentlemen were keeping. M. de Cocheforêt might have been with her in the garden, might have talked with her as I had talked, might have entered the house even, and passed under their noses scot-free. But that is the way of soldiers. They are always ready for the enemy, with drums beating and flags flying-at ten o'clock in the morning. But he does not always come at that hour.

      I waited a little, and then I groped my way to the door, and knocked on it with the hilt of my sword. The dogs began to bark at the back, and the chorus of a drinking-song, which came fitfully from the east wing, ceased altogether. An inner door opened, and an angry voice, apparently an officer's, began to rate some one for not coming. Another moment, and a clamour of voices and footsteps seemed to pour into the hall, and fill it. I heard the bar jerked away, the door was flung open, and in a twinkling a lanthorn, behind which a dozen flushed visages were dimly seen, was thrust into my face.

      "Why, who the fiend is this?" cried one, glaring at me in astonishment.

      "Morbleu! It is the man!" another shrieked. "Seize him!"

      In a moment half a dozen hands were laid on my shoulders, but I only bowed politely. "The officer, my friends," I said, "M. le Capitaine Larolle. Where is he?"

      "Diable! but who are you, first?" the lanthorn-bearer retorted bluntly. He was a tall, lanky sergeant, with a sinister face.

      "Well, I am not M. de Cocheforêt," I replied; "and that must satisfy you, my man. For the rest, if you do not fetch Captain Larolle at once and admit me, you will find the consequences inconvenient."

      "Ho! ho!" he said, with a sneer. "You can crow, it seems. Well, come in."

      They made way, and I walked into the hall, keeping my hat on. On the great hearth a fire had been kindled, but it had gone out. Three or four carbines stood against one wall, and beside them lay a heap of haversacks and some straw. A shattered stool, broken in a frolic, and half a dozen empty wine-skins strewed the floor, and helped to give the place an air of untidiness and disorder. I looked round with eyes of disgust, and my gorge rose. They had spilled oil, and the place reeked foully.

      "Ventre bleu!" I said. "Is this conduct in a gentleman's house, you rascals? Ma vie! If I had you, I would send half of you to the wooden horse!"

      They gazed at me open-mouthed. My arrogance startled them. The sergeant alone scowled. When he could find his voice for rage-

      "This way!" he said. "We did not know a general officer was coming, or we would have been better prepared!" And muttering oaths under his breath, he led me down the well-known passage. At the door of the parlour he stopped. "Introduce yourself!" he said rudely. "And if you find the air warm, don't blame me!"

      I raised the latch and went in. At a table in front of the hearth, half covered with glasses and bottles, sat two men playing hazard. The dice rang sharply as I entered, and he who had just thrown kept the box over them while he turned, scowling, to see who came in. He was a fair-haired, blonde man, large-framed and florid. He had put off his cuirass and boots, and his doublet showed frayed and stained where the armour had pressed on it. But otherwise he was in the extreme of last year's fashion. His deep cravat, folded over so that the laced ends drooped a little in front, was of the finest; his great sash of blue and silver was a foot wide. He had a little jewel in one ear, and his tiny beard was peaked à l'Espagnole. Probably when he turned he expected to see the sergeant, for at sight of me he rose slowly, leaving the dice still covered.

      "What folly is this?" he cried wrathfully. "Here, Sergeant! Sergeant! – without there! What the-! Who are you, Sir?"

      "Captain Larolle," I said, uncovering politely, "I believe?"

      "Yes, I am Captain Larolle," he retorted. "But who, in the fiend's name, are you? You are not the man we are after!"

      "I am not M. Cocheforêt," I said coolly. "I am merely a guest in the house, M. le Capitaine. I have been enjoying Madame de Cocheforêt's hospitality for some time, but by an evil chance I was away when you arrived." And with that I walked to the hearth, and, gently pushing aside his great boots which stood there drying, kicked the logs into a blaze.

      "Mille diables!" he whispered. And never did I see a man more confounded. But I affected to be taken up with his companion, a sturdy, white-mustachioed old veteran, who sat back in his chair, eyeing me, with swollen cheeks and eyes surcharged with surprise.

      "Good evening, M. le Lieutenant," I said, bowing gravely. "It is a fine night."

      Then the storm burst.

      "Fine night!" the captain shrieked, finding his voice again. "Mille diables! Are you aware, Sir, that I am in possession of this house, and that no one harbours here without my permission? Guest! Hospitality! Lieutenant-call the guard! Call the guard!" he continued passionately. "Where is that ape of a sergeant?"

      The lieutenant rose to obey, but I lifted my hand.

      "Gently, gently, Captain," I said. "Not so fast! You seem surprised to see me here. Believe me, I am much more surprised to see you."

      "Sacré!" he cried, recoiling at this fresh impertinence, while the lieutenant's eyes almost jumped out of his head.

      But nothing moved me.

      "Is the door closed?" I said sweetly. "Thank you; it is, I see. Then permit me to say again, gentlemen, that I am much more surprised to see you than you can be to see me. When Monseigneur the Cardinal honoured me by sending me from Paris to conduct this matter, he gave me the fullest-the fullest powers, M. le Capitaine-to see the affair to an end. I was not led to expect that my plans would be spoiled on the eve of success by the intrusion of half the garrison from Auch!"

      "O ho!" the captain said softly-in a very different tone and with a very different face. "So you are the gentleman I heard of at Auch?"

      "Very likely," I said drily. "But I am from Paris, not Auch."

      "To be sure," he answered thoughtfully. "Eh, Lieutenant?"

      "Yes, M. le Capitaine, no doubt," the inferior replied. And they both looked at one another, and then at me, in a way I did not understand.

      "I think," said I, to clinch the matter, "that you have made a mistake, Captain; or the Commandant has. And it occurs to me that the Cardinal will not be best pleased."

      "I hold the King's commission," he answered rather stiffly.

      "To be sure," I replied. "But you see the Cardinal-"

      "Ah, but the Cardinal-" he rejoined quickly; and then he stopped and shrugged his shoulders. And they both looked at me.

      "Well?" I said.

      "The King," he answered

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