Chapter 6 Scaramouche The Kingmaker by Rafael Sabatini
THE APOLOGY
In the course of the following morning, as André-Louis sat expecting Monsieur de Tourzel's friends, he was visited by an equerry with a command to wait instantly upon Monsieur at Schönbornlust. The carriage which had brought the equerry waited at the door of the inn. The matter had almost the air of an arrest.
André-Louis, who had no taste for wearing another man's clothes longer than he must, and who was spurred in addition on this occasion by less personal considerations, had sought a tailor early that morning, and was once more characteristically arrayed in a long fawn riding-coat with wide lapels. He professed himself ready, and took leave of the Lord of Gavrillac, who, suffering from a chill, was constrained to keep the house.
At Schönbornlust he was received in the ante-chamber, almost empty at this early hour, by the swarthy, hollow-cheeked Monsieur d'Entragues, whose narrow close-set eyes looked him over coldly. André-Louis', of course, was not a proper dress in which to come to court, and was of a kind tolerated there only because the impecunious state of many of the émigrés had perforce relaxed the etiquette in these matters.
Monsieur d'Entragues surprised him with questions on the subject of his relations with Le Chapelier. André-Louis made no mystery. Le Chapelier and he had been friends, and at various times associates, from the days of the Assembly of the States of Brittany at Rennes, five or six years ago, He had met him by chance in the street two evenings ago, and last night he had called at Le Chapelier's lodging to pay him a friendly visit.
"And then?" quoth Monsieur d'Entragues, peremptory.
"And then? Oh, when I had been with him an hour or so, he informed me that he was expected at the Electoral Palace, and begged me to await his return, saying that he would not be more than an hour away. I waited two hours, and then, when a Monsieur de Tourzel and two other gentlemen called to see him, I departed."
M. d'Entragues' dark eyes had shifted from André-Louis. "It is all very odd."
"Very odd, indeed, to leave me waiting there like that."
"Especially as he can have had no intention of returning."
"But what do you tell me?"
"This man Le Chapelier left his lodging at nine o'clock."
"Yes. That would be the time."
"At a quarter past nine he was at the Red Hat Inn where he kept his travelling chaise. At half-past nine the guard at the bridge passed him over. He was on his way to France. Clearly he must have been acting upon intentions formed before he left you, as you tell me, to await his return."
"It must have been so if your information is correct. It is very odd, as you say."
"You did not know that he would not return?" d'Entragues' eyes were like gimlets.
André-Louis met their searching glance with a crooked smile.
"Oh, but I am honoured. You take me for a half-wit. I sit for two hours awaiting the return of a man who I know will not return. Ah, but that is droll." And he laughed outright.
M. d'Entragues did not join in the laugh. "If you intended, for instance, to cover his retreat?"
"His retreat?" André-Louis was suddenly grave again. "His retreat? But from what, then, was he retreating? Was he threatened? Peste, Monsieur d'Entragues, you'll not mean that the visit of Monsieur de Tourzel and his friends—"
"Bah!" snapped d'Entragues to interrupt him. "What are you assuming?" There was a flush on his dark face. He was uncomfortably conscious that his zeal of investigation had half betrayed a design which, having failed in execution, must never now be known.
But André-Louis, maliciously vindictive, pursued him. "It is you, monsieur, who make assumptions, I think. If you assume that I stayed to cover a retreat, you must know that there was cause for it. That is plain enough."
"I know nothing of the kind, sir. I only fear lest Monsieur Le Chapelier should have suspected some danger, and so have been led to make a departure which looks like a flight. Naturally Monsieur Le Chapelier as an agent of these revolutionaries would know that here he has only enemies, and this may have made him start at shadows. Enough, sir! I'll conduct you to his highness."
In a small room communicating with the white-and-gold pillared salon that served as presence chamber, the King's brother was seated quill in hand at a table strewn with papers. He was attended by the Comte d'Avaray, his favourite, a slight, pale, delicate-looking man of thirty, with thin fair hair, who in appearance, dress and manner affected the airs of an Englishman. He was a protégé of Madame de Balbi, to whom he owed a position which his own talents had very materially strengthened.
Devoted to Monsieur, it was his wit and resource which had made possible the Prince's timely escape from Paris. Gentle, courteous and affable, he had earned the esteem of the entire court if we except the ambitious Monsieur d'Entragues, who beheld in him a dangerous rival for Monsieur's favour.
His highness slewed himself half round in his chair to confront André-Louis. André-Louis bowed profoundly. The Comte d'Entragues remained watchful in the background.
"Ah, Monsieur Moreau." There was a smile on Monsieur's full lips, but his prominent eyes under their heavy arched brows were hardly friendly. "Considering your services to some persons we esteem, I must deplore that my brother, M. d'Artois, should have found your opinions and principles of such a complexion that he has not been able to offer you any post in the army which is about to deliver Throne and Altar from the enemy."
He paused there, and André-Louis felt it incumbent upon him to say something in reply.
"Perhaps I did not make it sufficiently clear to his highness that my principles are strictly monarchical, monseigneur."
"Strictly perhaps, but inadequately. You are, I understand, a constitutionalist. That, however, is by the way." He paused a moment. "What was that officer's name, d'Entragues?"
"Tourzel, monseigneur. Captain Clement de Tourzel."
"Ah, yes. Tourzel. I understand, Monsieur Moreau, that you had the misfortune to enter into a quarrel last night with Captain de Tourzel."
"Captain de Tourzel had that misfortune, monseigneur."
The great eyes bulged at him. Monsieur d'Avaray looked startled. D'Entragues in the background clicked softly with his tongue.
"To be sure, you have been a fencing-master," said Monsieur. "A fencing-master of considerable repute, I understand." His tone was cold and distant. "Do you think, Monsieur Moreau, that it is quite proper, quite honourable, for a fencing-master to engage in duels? Is it not a little like...like gaming with cogged dice?"
"That circumstance, monseigneur, should prevent unpardonable utterances. A fencing-master is not to be insulted with impunity because he is a fencing-master."
"But I understand, sir, that you were the aggressor: that you struck Monsieur de Tourzel. That is so, d'Entragues, is it not? A blow was struck?"
André-Louis saved the Count the trouble of answering. "I certainly struck Monsieur de Tourzel. But the blow was not the aggression. It was the answer to an insult that admitted of no other answer."
"Is this so, d'Entragues?" His highness became peevish. "You did not tell me this, d'Entragues."
"Naturally, monseigneur, there must have been some provocation for the blow."
"Then why am I not told? Why am I but half informed? Monsieur Moreau, what was this provocation?"
André-Louis told him, adding: "It is a lie, monseigneur, that peculiarly defames my godfather since I am to marry his niece. I could not let it pass even if I am a fencing-master."
Monsieur breathed noisily. He showed signs of discomfort, of distress. "But this is very grave, d'Entragues. Almost...almost it touches the honour of Mademoiselle de Kercadiou." It annoyed André-Louis that his highness should make this the reason for his change of attitude. "You agree that it is grave, d'Entragues?"
"Most grave, monseigneur."
Did this lantern-jawed fellow smile covertly, wondered André-Louis in suppressed fury.
"You will say two words from me to this Captain de Tourzel. You will tell him that I am not pleased with him. That I censure his conduct in the severest terms. That I regard it as disgraceful in a gentleman. Tell him this from me, d'Entragues; and see that he does not approach us again for at least a month."
He turned once more to André-Louis. "He shall make you an apology, Monsieur Moreau. Let him know that, too, d'Entragues: that he must formally retract to Monsieur Moreau, and this at once. You understand, Monsieur Moreau, that this matter can go no further. For one thing, there is an edict in the Electorate against duelling and we who are the Elector's guests must scrupulously respect his laws. For another, the time is not one in which it consorts with honour that gentlemen should engage in private quarrels. The King needs—urgently needs—every blade in his own cause. You understand, sir?"
André-Louis bowed. "Perfectly, monseigneur."
"Then that is all, I think. I thank you for your attention. You may retire, Monsieur Moreau." The plump white hand waved him away, the heavy lips parted in a cold half-smile.
In the ante-chamber Monsieur Moreau was desired to wait until Monsieur d'Entragues should have found Captain de Tourzel.
It was whilst he was cooling his heels there, the only tenant of that spacious, sparsely-furnished hall, that Aline, accompanied by Madame de Plougastel, entered by the folding doors from the salon. He started towards them.
"Aline!"
But her expression checked his eagerness. There was a pallor about the lower half of her face, a little pucker between the fine brows, a general look of hurt sternness.
"Oh, how could you? How could you?"
"How could I what?"
"Break faith with me so. Betray what I told you in secret!"
He understood, and was not abashed. "It was to save a man's life: the life of a friend. Chapelier was my friend."
"But you did not know that when you drew from me the confidence."
"I did. I knew that Le Chapelier was in Coblentz, and, therefore, that he must be the man concerned."
"You knew? You knew?" She looked at him in deepening anger. Behind her stood Madame de Plougastel, sad-eyed after her little smile of greeting. "And you said nothing of your knowledge. You led me on to talk. You drew it all from me with pretended indifference. That was sly, André. Horribly sly. I'd not have believed it of you."
André-Louis was almost impatient. "Will you tell me what harm is done? Or do you tell me that you are angry because a man, a friend of mine, has not been assassinated?"
"That is not the point."
"It is very much the point."
Madame de Plougastel sought to make peace. "Indeed, Aline, if it was a friend of André's—"
But Aline interrupted her. "That is not the point at all, madame, between André and me. Why was he not frank? Why did he use me so slyly, luring me into betraying a confidence Monsieur had reposed in me, using me as if...as if I were a spy."
"Aline!"
"Did you do less? Will it appear less when it becomes known that this man, this dangerous agent of your revolutionary friends, made his escape because I betrayed the intentions concerning him?"
"It will never become known," said André-Louis. "I've talked to Monsieur d'Entragues. I've stopped his questions. His mind is satisfied."
"There, Aline. You see," said Madame de Plougastel. "All is well, after all."
"All is very far from well. How can there be any confidence between us after this? I must keep a guard upon my tongue. How can I be sure when I talk to André whether I am talking to my lover or to a revolutionary agent? If Monsieur knew, what would he think of me?"
"That, of course, is important,'' said André-Louis, unable now to repress his irony.
"Do you sneer? Certainly it is important. If Monsieur honours me with his confidence, am I to betray it? I am to appear in his eyes either as a traitress or a little fool who cannot set a guard upon her tongue. A pleasant choice. This man has escaped. He has gone back to Paris to work evil against the Princes, against the King."
"It comes to this then that you are sorry he was not assassinated."
Being true, and yet not the whole truth, this put her further out of patience.
"It is not true that he was to have been assassinated. And if it were that is but the effect and I am dealing with the cause. Why wilt you confuse them?"
"Because they are always inseparable. Cause and effect are but the two sides of a fact. And in justice to me remember that he was my friend."
"You mean that you think more of him than you do of me," she said with feminine perversity. "For his sake you lied to me; for your silence amounted to no less. You duped me, tricked me by your seemingly idle questions and your false air of indifference. You are too clever for me, André."
"I wish that I were clever enough to make you see the folly of all this."
Madame de Plougastel put a hand on her shoulder. "Aline, my dear, can you find no excuse for him?"
"Can you, madame?"
"Why, every excuse since hearing that this man was his friend. I would not have had him behave otherwise. Neither should you."
"It was not upon you he exercised his slyness, madame, or you might think differently. Nor is that all, as you know. What is this of a duel on your hands, André?"
"Oh, that!" André-Louis was airy, welcoming the change of subject. "That arranges itself."
"Arranges itself! You've ruined yourself completely with Monsieur."
"There at least, I can prove you wrong. I've seen Monsieur. His highness is tolerably pleased with me. It is my opponent who is out of favour."
"You ask me to believe this?"
"You may ascertain it for yourself. Monsieur pays attention to facts; permits a connection between cause and effect which you deny. When I had told him why I smacked M. de Tourzel's face he gave me reason. Monsieur de Tourzel is to apologize to me. I am waiting for him now."
"Monsieur de Tourzel is to apologize to you because you smacked his face?"
"No, my sweet perversity. But for the reason he gave me to do it."
"What reason?"
He told them, and saw distress in both their faces. "Monsieur," he added, "does not consider that a buffet suffices to extinguish the offence. That may be out of tenderness for you, because he perceived, as he said, that in a sense it touched your honour."
He saw her eyes soften at last, and winced to see it, accounting it the reflection of her gratitude to Monsieur. "That was gracious of his highness. You see, André, how gracious, how generous he can be."
Monsieur d'Entragues came in accompanied by Monsieur de Tourzel. André-Louis looked over his shoulder at them.
"I am wanted. Shall I see you again before I go, Aline?"
She had resumed her coldness. "Not to-day, André. I must consider all this. I am shaken. Hurt."
Madame de Plougastel leaned towards him. "Leave me to make your peace, André."
He kissed her hand, and then Aline's, which was very coldly yielded. Then, having held the door for them, he turned to meet the newcomers.
The tall, offending young officer was looking pale and vicious. No doubt he had received the messages intimating Monsieur's displeasure, and he saw his advancement imperilled by the events. He came stiffly to attention before André-Louis, and bowed formally. André-Louis returned the bow as formally.
"I am commanded by Monsieur to retract the words I used to you last night, sir, and to apologize for them."
André-Louis disliked the studiously offensive tone.
"I am commanded by Monsieur to accept the apology. I gather that we make this exchange of civilities with mutual regret."
"Certainly with regret on my side," said the officer.
"You may temper it, then, with the reflection that once your duty to his majesty no longer claims your sword, you may call upon me for anything that you may conceive I owe you."
Only Monsieur d'Entragues' intervention at that moment saved Captain de Tourzel's countenance.
"Messieurs, what is this? Will you build a new quarrel out of the old one? There is no more to be said between you. This affair must go no further, nor must it be resumed under pain of Monsieur's severe displeasure. You understand me, gentlemen?"
They bowed and separated and André-Louis went back to his inn in an indifferent humour.