For a while we were but a melancholy party.The incident I have last related which seemed to admit of more explanations than one --left me in a state of the greatest perplexity;and this prevailed with me for a time,and was only dissipated at length by my seeing my own face,as it were,in a glass.For,chancing presently to look behind me,I observed that Simon Fleix was riding,notwithstanding his fine hat and feather and his new sword,in a posture and with an air of dejection difficult to exaggerate;whereon the reflection that master and man had the same object in their minds--nay,the thought that possibly he bore in his bosom a like token to that which lay warm in mine--occurring to me,I roused myself as from some degrading dream,and,shaking up the Cid,cantered forward to join Rosny,who,in no cheerful mood himself,was riding steadily forward,wrapped to his eyes in his cloak.
The news of the King of Navarre's illness had fallen on him,indeed,in the midst of his sanguine scheming with the force of a thunderbolt.He saw himself in danger of losing at once the master he loved and the brilliant future to which he looked forward;and amid the imminent crash of his hopes and the destruction of the system in which he lived,he had scarcely time to regret the wife he was leaving at Rosny or the quiet from which he was so suddenly called.His heart was in the South,at La Ganache,by Henry's couch.His main idea was to get there quickly at all risks.The name of the King of Navarre's physician was constantly on his lips.'Dortoman is a good man.
If anyone call save him,Dortoman will,'was his perpetual cry.
And whenever he met anyone who had the least appearance of bearing news,he would have me stop and interrogate him,and by no means let the traveller go until he had given us the last rumour from Blois--the channel through which all the news from the South reached us.
An incident which occurred at the inn that evening cheered him somewhat;the most powerful minds being prone,I have observed,to snatch at omens in times of uncertainty.An elderly man,of strange appearance,and dressed in an affected and bizarre fashion,was seated at table when we arrived.Though I entered first in my assumed capacity of leader of the party,he let me pass before him without comment,but rose and solemnly saluted M.
de Rosny,albeit the latter walked behind me and was much more plainly dressed.Rosny returned his greeting and would have passed on;but the stranger,interposing with a still lower bow,invited him to take his seat,which was near the fire and sheltered from the draught,at the same time making as if he would himself remove to another place.
'Nay,'said my companion,surprised by such an excess of courtesy,'I do not see why I should take your place,sir.'
'Not mine only,'the old man rejoined,looking at him with a particularity and speaking with an emphasis which attracted our attention,'but those of many others,who I can assure you will very shortly yield them up to you,whether they will or not.'
M.de Rosny shrugged his shoulders and passed on,affecting to suppose the old man wandered.But privately he thought much of his words,and more when he learned that he was an astrologer from Paris,who had the name,at any rate in this country,of having studied under Nostradamus.And whether he drew fresh hopes from this,or turned his attention more particularly as we approached Blois to present matters,certainly he grew more cheerful,and began again to discuss the future,as though assured of his master's recovery.
'You have never been to the King's Court?'he said presently,following up,as I judged,a train of thought in his own mind.
'At Blois,I mean.'
'No;nor do I feel anxious to visit it,'I answered.'To tell you the truth,M.le Baron,'I continued with some warmth,'the sooner me are beyond Blois,the better I shall be pleased.Ithink we run some risk there,and,besides,I do not fancy a shambles.I do not think I could see the king without thinking of the Bartholomew,nor his chamber without thinking of Guise.'
'Tut,tut!'he said,'you have killed a man before now.'
'Many,'I answered.
'Do they trouble you?'
'No,but they were killed in fair fight,'I replied,'That makes a difference.'
'To you,'he said drily.'But you are not the King of France,you see.Should you ever come across him,'he continued,flicking his horse's ears,a faint smile on his lips,'I will give you a hint.Talk to him of the battles at Jarnac and Moncontour,and praise your Conde's father!As Conde lost the fight and,he won it,the compliment comes home to him.The more hopelessly a man has lost his powers,my friend,the more fondly he regards them,and the more highly he prizes the victories he call no longer gain.'
'Ugh!'I muttered.
'Of the two parties at Court,'Rosny continued,calmly overlooking my ill-humour,'trust D'Aumont and Biron and the French clique.They are true to France at any rate.But whomsoever you see consort with the two Retzs--the King of Spain's jackals as men name them--avoid him for a Spaniard and a traitor.'
'But the Retzs are Italians,'I objected peevishly.
'The same thing,'he answered curtly.'They cry,"Vive le Roi!"but privately they are for the League,or for Spain,or for whatever may most hurt us;who are better Frenchmen than themselves,and whose leader will some day,if God spare his life,be King of France.'
'Well,the less I have to do with the one or the other of them,save at the sword's point,the better I shall be pleased,'Irejoined.
On that he looked at me with a queer smile;as was his way when he had more in his mind than appeared.And this,and something special in the tone of his conversation,as well,perhaps,as my own doubts about my future and his intentions regarding me,gave me an uneasy feeling;which lasted through the day,and left me only when more immediate peril presently rose to threaten us.
