"What!" haughtily, "you parley with me?" A gauntleted hand flew to a
jeweled hilt.
"Monsieur will not be so rude?" mockingly.
"Monsieur!" with a stamp of the foot--a charming foot.
"Monsieur!" he mimicked, also stamping a foot which, though shapely,
was scarce charming.
Then through the curtain of the mask there came a low, rollicking
laugh. The hand fell away from the sword-hilt, and a grey gauntlet
slipped to the floor, discovering a hand as dazzling white and begemmed
as that on which Anne of Austria prided herself.
"Death of my life!" said a voice as soft and musical as the vibration
of a bell, "you make an admirable Cerberus. My gauntlet." The sweep
of the hand fascinated him. "Are your ears like the sailors' of
Ulysses, filled with wax? I am asking you to pick up my gauntlet."
As he stooped to obey the command, a laugh sounded behind him, and he
knew that he had been tricked. The little musketeer had vanished. For
a moment he was disturbed. In vain he searched the gauntlet for some
distinguishing sign. But as reason told him that no harm could
possibly come from the prank, his fears subsided, and he laughed. On
being relieved from duty, later, he sought her, to return the gauntlet.
She was talking to Mademoiselle de Longueville. As she saw the
Chevalier, she moved away. The Chevalier, determined on seeing the
adventure to its end, followed her deliberately. She sat in a
window-seat. Without ceremony he sat down beside her.
"Monsieur," he said, smiling, and he was very handsome when he smiled,
"permit me to return this gauntlet."
She folded her arms, and this movement of her shoulders told him that
she was laughing silently.
"Are you madame or mademoiselle?" he asked, eagerly.
She raised her mask for an instant, and his subjugation was complete.
The conversation which ensued was so piquant and charming that
thereafter whatever warmth the gauntlet knew was gathered not from her
hand but from the Chevalier's heart.
The growing chill in the water brought the Chevalier out of his
reverie. He leaped from the tub and shone rosily in the firelight, as
elegantly proportioned a youth as ever was that fabulous Leander of the
Hellespont.
"Bring me those towels I purchased from the wandering Persian. I
regret that I did not have them blessed by his Holiness. For who knows
what spell the heretic Saracen may have cast over them?"
"Monsieur knows," said Breton piously, "that I have had them sprinkled
with the blessed water."
The Chevalier laughed. He was rather a godless youth, and whatever
religion he possessed was merely observance of forms. "Donkey, if the
devil himself had offered them for sale, I should have taken them, for
they pleased me; and besides, they have created a fashion. I shall
wear my new baldric--the red one. I report at the Palais Royal at
eight, and I've an empty stomach to attend to. Be lively, lad. Duty,
duty, always duty," snatching the towels. "I have been in the saddle
since morning; I am still dead with stiffness; yet duty calls. Bah! I
had rather be fighting the Spaniard with Turenne than idle away at the
Louvre. Never any fighting save in pothouses; nothing but ride, ride,
ride, here, there, everywhere, bearing despatches not worth the paper
written on, but worth a man's head if he lose them. And what about?
Is this person ill? Condolences. Is this person a father?
Congratulations. Monsieur, the king's uncle, is ailing; I romp to
Blois. A cabal is being formed in Brussels; I gallop away. His
Eminence hears of a new rouge; off I go. And here I have been to Rome
and back with a message which made the pope laugh; is it true that he
is about to appoint a successor? Mazarin, tiring of being a
left-handed king, aspires to the mantle of Saint Peter. Mazarin always
selects me for petty service. Why? Oh, Monsieur le Chevalier, having
an income, need not be paid moneys; because Monsieur le Chevalier was
born in the saddle, his father is an eagle, his grandsire was a
centaur. And don't forget the grey cloak, lad, the apple of my eye,
the admiration of the ladies, and the confusion of mine enemies; my own
particular grey cloak." By this time the Chevalier was getting into
his clothes; fine cambrics, silk hose, velvet pantaloons, grey doublet,
and shoes with buckles and red heels.