The Grey Cloak - Page 44/256

"What are you doing here?" demanded the Chevalier roughly.

"Paul," sadly, "you are drunk."

"So I am," moodily. "How long ago since I was sober? Bah! every pore

in my body is a voice that calls loudly for wine. Drunk? My faith,

yes! You make me laugh, Victor. When was I ever sober? As a boy I

used to fall asleep in the cellars of the château. But you . . . What

are you doing here in Rochelle?"

"I am here to command your immediate return to Paris."

"Paris? Body of Bacchus! but it is fine gratitude on your part to

accept this mission. So his Eminence thinks that I shall be safer in

the Bastille? What a compliment!"

"No, Paul. He wishes simply to exonerate you and return to you your

privileges. Ah! how could you do it?"

"Do what?" sinking upon one of the benches and striving to put together

his wine-befuddled thoughts.

"Take the brunt of a crime you supposed I had done?"

"Supposed? Come, now; you are laughing!"

"Word of honor: supposed I had done. It was not till a week ago that I

learned what you had done. How I galloped back to Paris! It was

magnificent of you; it was fine."

"But you? And that cloak which I lent to you?"

"Well, I was as little concerned as you, which I proved to Mazarin. I

was at my sister's wedding at Blois. Your grey cloak was stolen from

my room the day before De Brissac met his violent end. My lad, Hector,

found the cloak in a tavern. How, he would not say. He dared not keep

it, so sent it to the Candlestick in care of another lad. He

understood that its disappearance might bring harm to you. I trounced

him well for his carelessness in permitting the cloak to be stolen."

"This is all very unusual. Stolen, from you?" bewildered.

"Yes."

"And it was not you?"

"Am I a killer of old men? No, Paul. De Brissac and I were on

excellent terms. You ought to know me better. I do not climb into

windows, especially when the door is always open for me. I am like my

sword, loyal, frank, and honest; we scorn braggart's cunning, dark

alleys, stealth; we look not at a man's back but into his face; we

prefer sunshine to darkness. And listen," tapping his sword: "he who

has done this thing, be he never so far away, yet shall this long sword

of mine find him and snuff his candle out."

"Good lad, forgive! I am drunk, atrociously drunk; and I have been

drunk so long!" The Chevalier swept the hair out of his eyes. "Have

you an enemy? Have I?"

"Enemies, enemies? If you but knew how I have searched my memory for a

sign of one! The only enemy I could find was . . . myself. Here is

your signet-ring, the one you pawned at Fontainebleau. You see,

Mazarin went to the bottom of things."