reached the Place Saint Germain l’Auxerrois when Coconnas was only just leaving the Louvre.
La Hurière, finding himself alone with his arquebuse, while around him men were running, bullets were whistling, and bodies were falling from windows — some whole, others dismembered — began to be afraid and was prudently thinking of returning to his tavern, but as he turned into the Rue de l’Arbre Sec from the Rue d’Averon he fell in with a troop of Swiss and light cavalry: it was the one commanded by Maurevel.
“Well,” cried Maurevel, who had christened himself with the nickname of King’s Killer, “have you finished so soon? Are you going back to your tavern, worthy landlord? And what the devil have you done with our Piedmontese gentleman? No misfortune has happened to him? That would be a shame, for he started out well.”
“No, I think not,” replied La Hurière; “I hope he will rejoin us!”
“Where have you been?”
“At the Louvre, and I must say we were very rudely treated there.”
“By whom?”
“Monsieur le Duc d’Alençon. Isn’t he interested in this affair?”
“Monseigneur le Duc d’Alençon is not interested in anything which does not concern himself personally. Propose to treat his two older brothers as Huguenots and he would be in it — provided only that the work should be done without compromising him. But won’t you go with these worthy fellows, Maître La Hurière?”
“And where are they going?”
“Oh, mon Dieu! Rue Montorguen; there is a Huguenot minister there whom I know; he has a wife and six children. These heretics are enormous breeders; it will be interesting.”
“And where are you going?”
“Oh, I have a little private business.”
“Say, there! don’t go off without me,” said a voice which made Maurevel start, “you know all the good places and I want to have my share.”
“Ah! it is our Piedmontese,” said Maurevel.
“Yes, it is Monsieur de Coconnas,” said La Hurière; “I thought you were following me.”
“Hang it! you made off too swiftly for that; and besides I turned a little to one side so as to fling into the river a frightful child who was screaming, ‘Down with the Papists! Long live the admiral!’ Unfortunately, I believe the little rascal knew how to swim. These miserable heretics must be flung into the water like cats before their eyes are opened if they are to be drowned at all.”
“Ah! you say you are just from the Louvre; so your Huguenot took refuge there, did he?” asked Maurevel.
“Mon Dieu! yes.”
“I gave him a pistol-shot at the moment when he was picking up his sword in the admiral’s court-yard, but I somehow or other missed him.”
“Well, I did not miss him,” added Coconnas; “I gave him such a thrust in the back that my sword was wet five inches up the blade. Besides, I saw him fall into the arms of Madame Marguerite, a pretty woman, by Heaven! yet I confess I should not be sorry to hear he was really dead; the vagabond is infernally spiteful, and capable of bearing me a grudge all his life. But didn’t you say you were bound somewhere?”
“Why, do you mean to go with me?”
“I do not like standing still, by Heaven! I have killed only three or four as yet, and when I get cold my shoulder pains me. Forward! forward!”
“Captain,” said Maurevel to the commander of the troop, “give me three men, and go and despatch your parson with the rest.”
Three Swiss stepped forward and joined Maurevel. Nevertheless, the two companies proceeded side by side till they reached the top of the Rue Tirechappe; there the light horse and the Swiss took the Rue de la Tonnellerie, while Maurevel, Coconnas, La Hurière, and his three men were proceeding down the Rue Trousse Vache and entering the Rue Sainte Avoye. “Where the devil are you taking us?” asked Coconnas, who was beginning to be bored by this long march from which he could see no results.
“I am taking you on an expedition at once brilliant and useful. Next to the admiral, next to Téligny, next to the Huguenot princes, I could offer you nothing better. So have patience, our business calls us to the Rue du Chaume, and we shall be there in a second.”
“Tell me,” said Coconnas, “is not the Rue du Chaume near the Temple?”
“Yes, why?”
“Because an old creditor of our family lives there, one Lambert Mercandon, to whom my father wished me to hand over a hundred rose nobles I have in my pocket for that purpose.”
“Well,” replied Maurevel, “this is a good opportunity for paying it. This is the day for settling old accounts. Is your Mercandon a Huguenot?”
“Oho, I understand!” said Coconnas; “he must be”—
“Hush! here we are.”
“What is that large hôtel, with its entrance in the street?”
“The Hôtel de Guise.”
“Truly,” returned Coconnas, “I should not have failed to come here, as I am under the patronage of the great Henry. But, by Heaven! all is so very quiet in this quarter, we scarcely hear any firing, and we might fancy ourselves in the country. The devil fetch me but every one is asleep!”
And indeed the Hôtel de Guise seemed as quiet as in ordinary times. All the windows were closed, and a solitary light was burning behind the blind of the principal window over the entrance which had attracted Coconnas’s attention as soon as they entered the street.
Just beyond the Hôtel de Guise, in other words, at the corner of the Rue du Petit Chantier and the Rue des Quatre Fils, Maurevel halted.
“Here is the house of the man we want,” said he.
“Of the man you want — that is to say”— observed La Hurière.
“Since you are with me we want him.”
“What! that house which seems so sound asleep”—
“Exactly! La Hurière, now go and make practical use of the plausible face which heaven, by some blunder, gave you, and knock at that house. Hand your arquebuse to M. de Coconnas, who has been ogling it this last half hour. If you are admitted, you must ask to speak to Seigneur de Mouy.”
“Aha!” exclaimed Coconnas, “now I understand — you also have a creditor in the quarter of the Temple, it would seem.”
“Exactly so!” responded Maurevel. “You will go up to him pretending to be a Huguenot, and inform De Mouy of all that has taken place; he is brave, and will come down.”
“And once down?” asked La Hurière.
“Once down, I will beg of him to cross swords with me.”
“On my soul, ’tis
