The Grey Cloak - Page 47/256

"A conspiracy? And you have put your name to it, you, who have never

been more serious than a sonnet? Were you mad, or drunk?"

"They call it madness. Madame's innocent eyes drew me into it. I've

only a vague idea what the conspiracy is about. Not that madame knew

what was going on. Politics was a large word to her, embracing all

those things which neither excited nor interested her. Lord love you,

there were a dozen besides myself, madame's beauty being the magnet."

"And the plot?"

"Mazarin's abduction and forced resignation, Condé's return from Spain

and Gaston's reinstatement at court."

"And your reward?"

"Hang me!" with a comical expression, "I had forgotten all about that

end of it. A captaincy of some sort. Devil take cabals! And madame,

finding out too late what had been going on, and having innocently

attached her name to the paper, is gone from Paris, leaving advice for

me to do the same. So here I am, ready to cross into Spain the moment

you set out for Paris. Mazarin has taken it into his head to imitate

Richelieu: off with the head rather than let the state feed the

stomach."

"So that is why De Beaufort, thinking me to be the guilty man, sought

me out and demanded the paper? My faith, this grows interesting. But

oh! wise poet, did you not hear me tell you never to sign your name to

anything save poetry?"

"It might have been a poem . . . I wonder whither madame has flown?

By the way, Mademoiselle de Longueville gave me a letter to give to

you. It is unaddressed. I promised to deliver it to you."

The Chevalier took the letter and opened it carelessly; but no sooner

did he recognize the almost illegible but wholly aristocratic pothooks

than a fit of trembling seized him. The faint odor of vervain filled

his nostrils, and he breathed quickly.

"Forgive! How could I have doubled so gallant a gentleman! You have

asked me if I love you. Find me and put the question again. I leave

Paris indefinitely. France is large. If you love me you will find me.

You complain that I have never permitted you to kiss me. Read. In

this missive I kiss your handsome grey eyes a thousand times. Diane."

A wild desire sprang into the Chevalier's heart to mount and ride to

Paris that very night. The storm was nothing; his heart was warm,

sending a heat into his cheeks and a sparkle into his dull eyes.

"Horns of Panurge! you weep?" cried Victor jestingly. "Good! You are

maudlin. What is this news which makes you weep?"

"Ah, lad," said the Chevalier, standing, "you have brought me more than

exoneration; you have brought me life, life and love. France is small

when a beloved voice calls. I shall learn who she is, this glorious

creature. A month and I shall have solved the enchantment. Victor, I

have told you of her. Sometimes it seems that I must wake to find it

all a dream. For nearly a year she has kept me dangling in mid air.

She is as learned as Aspasia, as holding as Calypso, as fascinating as

Circe. She is loveliness and wisdom; and I love her madly."