Chapter 13 Scaramouche The Kingmaker by Rafael Sabatini
DEPARTURE
Monsieur de Batz stood once more in the presence of the Regent, in that plain room in the chalet at Hamm.
He stood before Monsieur's writing-table, in a rhomb of sunlight that fell from the leaded panes of the window on Monsieur's left. Windows and door were tight shut and the stale atmosphere of the room was heavy with the earthy smell of burning peat from the clay stove. From the eaves outside came a steady drip of melting snow, for the thaw had set in that morning.
Three other men were in attendance. The delicate Comte d'Avaray, his English air accentuated by plain blue riding-coat, buckskins and knee boots with reversed tops, was seated near the middle of the room, on the Baron's left. 'With him sat the dark, showy, slimly vigorous Comte d'Entragues. The Regent's brother, the Comte d'Artois, slight, elegant and restless, paced to and fro across the room. He had been invited to attend so soon as the trend of the Baron's proposal was apparent.
The Baron had been speaking, and now that he had ceased silence was maintained until the Regent, who had thoughtfully sat biting the end of his quill, invited the opinion of Monsieur d'Entragues on what they had just heard. D'Entragues was at no pains to dissemble his contempt.
"A wild enterprise. Utterly desperate. A gambler's throw."
Monsieur d'Artois halted in his pacing. He could assume airs of an intelligence which he did not possess. He assumed them now, preserving a wise silence.
The Regent levelled the glance of his full eyes upon de Batz. "Agreed," said the Baron easily "Oh, agreed. But, for desperate ills, desperate remedies."
Solemnly Monsieur d'Artois corrected him. "It cannot rightly be said that this ill is desperate. It is very far from desperate."
"I allude, monseigneur, to the situation of the royal prisoners. That, I think it will be agreed, is desperate enough, and time will not stand still for them. There is not a day to be lost if her majesty is to be rescued from the terrible fate which has already overtaken the late King. Monsieur d'Entragues describes this as a gambler's throw. It is admitted. But what alternative does Monsieur d'Entragues propose if the Queen and her family are not to be abandoned to their fate?"
D'Entragues shrugged impatiently and crossed his legs again. "I think you should answer that," said Monsieur d'Artois in his cold level voice.
D'Entragues complied, perforce. "So far as an attempt to rescue her majesty is concerned, my views are no reason why it should not be made. It is even heroic of Monsieur de Batz to stake, as he will be doing, his head upon the gamble. But when it comes to the other, wider issues with which Monsieur de Batz wishes to concern himself, I must frankly say that it is disconcerting to the agents already acting under my directions to have this independent meddling."
"So that," said Monsieur ponderously, "you would advise that whilst we sanction the Baron's enterprise on behalf of the Queen, we do not authorize him to take any action having a wider scope?"
"That is what I have the honour to advise, monseigneur."
And this might finally have closed the matter but for a gentle interpolation at that moment by d'Avaray, who, if he seldom intervened in affairs, never intervened without commanding the Regent's attention.
"But what," he asked, "if the opportunity for a bold stroke would present itself? Is it to be neglected?"
D'Entragues suppressed his annoyance at this opposition from the Regent's favourite, whom he detested, yet whom he dared not openly flout. He spoke as smoothly as he could.
"If the opportunity presents itself, my agents will be at hand to take advantage of it. I can assure you, messieurs, that they have the very fullest instructions from me."
But de Batz was emboldened by the unexpected support of Monsieur d'Avaray. "Suppose that they do not perceive an opportunity which presents itself to me, am I still on that account to neglect it? It is not lucky, monseigneur, to let opportunity go unheeded. If I attempt and fail, I do not perceive how this can thwart the measures being taken by Monsieur d'Entragues' agents."
"The measures might be identical," cried d'Entragues, without waiting for leave to speak. "And a clumsy failure on your part would create alarm, directing vigilance to the very point where we least desire it, where it may defeat us."
Thus began an argument which endured for a full hour by the clock. Monsieur de Batz remained outwardly calm before this crass opposition, whilst Monsieur d'Entragues, growing heated and at moments, consequently, reckless in his arguments, laid himself open to several palpable hits.
The end of it was that their highnesses, grudgingly and with all the air of bestowing a high favour, condescended to hear Monsieur de Batz in detail upon the plan which he pretended to have formed for the overthrow of the revolutionary government. But now Monsieur de Batz almost wrecked his chances of risking neck in the service of these ungracious Princes by stating that he would prefer to unfold his plans with the attendance of one who was largely their author and who was to be his close associate in their execution.
Peremptorily he was asked for the name of this person. When he had supplied it the Princes and their two advisers looked at one another whilst Monsieur d'Artois expressed the opinion that they should know something more about this Monsieur Moreau before investing him with authority to act on their behalf.
Still Monsieur de Batz betrayed no sign of his impatience, which says much for his self-control. He went out to fetch André-Louis, who awaited the summons.
Their highnesses considered the neat trim figure without enthusiasm. Monsieur d'Artois, indeed, who had not remembered him by name but recognized him now at sight, frowned upon him in silence. It was the Regent who addressed him.
"Monsieur de Batz has told us, monsieur, of your willingness to co-operate with him in certain measures which he believes are calculated to serve our interests in France. He tells us that you are partly the author of the plan upon which he proposes to act, but of which we have yet to learn the details." And with that chill welcome he turned to Monsieur de Batz. "Now Monsieur le Baron, we are listening."
The Baron was brisk. "Our plan is not so much to clean out the Augean stable as to reveal its noisomeness in such a manner to the people of France as to induce them to rise up and themselves perform the necessary work of purification." Briefly he sketched the main principles which would guide their task and some of the measures by which they proposed so to corrupt those very corruptible men that their corruption could no longer be concealed.
Monsieur d'Artois became interested. D'Avaray's delicate face was flushed with enthusiasm. D'Entragues continued coldly hostile, whilst Monsieur turned grave eyes from one to another as if seeking in their countenances the guidance of the reflection of their thoughts.
Monsieur d'Artois moved across to stand beside his brother's chair. Monsieur's glance interrogated him.
"The conception is of an engaging audacity," said the younger prince. "Sometimes audacity succeeds. What more can one say?"
"I perceive," said the Regent, "no reasons against the attempt being made. Do you, d'Entragues?"
D'Entragues shrugged. "None beyond those which I have already had the honour to express to your highness. If I were to attach to Monsieur de Batz a man of my own, who is now under my hand here, I should have some assurance that there would be no working at cross-purposes with my own agents in Paris."
Monsieur nodded solemnly. "What says Monsieur de Batz to that?"
Monsieur de Batz smiled. "I welcome every recruit, always provided that he possesses the qualities of courage and intelligence which the work demands."
"I employ no others, monsieur," said d'Entragues with arrogance.
"Could I permit myself to suppose it, monsieur?"
And then Monsieur d'Artois, who had been frowning, interposed. "There is yet another quality necessary. I ask myself does Monsieur Moreau possess it?"
The Regent, who had been pensively smiling, looked up as if suddenly startled. But his brother ran on, fixing his glance keenly and coldly upon André-Louis.
"I call to mind, Monsieur Moreau, a conversation we had at Schönbornlust, in the course of which you expressed yourself a constitutionalist. Hitherto it has been my invariable rule to demand a greater purity of ideals than that in those who follow us. We do not aim at restoring a monarchy to France if it is to be a constitutional monarchy. We shall re-establish there a monarchy in the ancient forms, persuaded as we are that had our unfortunate brother made no departure from this, the present unhappy state of things would never have arisen. You will understand, Monsieur Moreau, that, inspired by such ideals, we must hesitate to enlist the services of any man who does not fully share them. You smile, Monsieur Moreau?"
André-Louis asked himself who would not have smiled at this pompous address from a Prince Lackland to a man who was proposing to get himself killed in his service. But he made a sharp recovery of his gravity.
"Monseigneur," he replied, "assuming that we are successful in this forlorn hope, the extent of our success will be to overthrow the existing régime and open the way for the restoration. What form the monarchy will take when restored will hardly rest with us—"
"Maybe, maybe," the Prince coldly interrupted him. "But we must still observe a discrimination, a fastidiousness even, in the agents we enlist. We owe this to ourselves, to the dignity of our station."
"I understand," said André-Louis frosty in his turn, "the purity of your ideals demands a purity in the weapons you employ."
"You express it very happily, Monsieur Moreau. I thank you. You will perceive that we have no other guarantee of the sincerity of those who act as our agents."
"I venture to think, monseigneur, that I could supply a guarantee of my own."
Monsieur d'Artois seemed surprised by the answer. "If you please," he said.
"The best guarantee a man can give of his sincerity is to show that his interest lies in keeping faith. Now with the restoration of the monarchy is bound up the restoration of various nobles to their confiscated domains. Amongst these there is my godfather, Monsieur de Kercadiou, who will be restored to Gavrillac. He has imposed it upon me that I must wait until this is accomplished before I may fulfil my dearest hope, which is to marry Mademoiselle de Kercadiou. You will perceive, monseigneur, my interest in advancing the cause of the monarchy so that I may advance my own, which is my chief concern."
Now that is not the way to address a prince, and no prince was ever more conscious that he was a prince than Monsieur le Comte d'Artois.
Cold anger quivered in the restrained voice in which he answered, "I perceive it clearly, monsieur. It explains to me all that I considered obscure in the aims of a man of your history and sentiments, which in themselves are not calculated to inspire confidence."
André-Louis bowed formally. "I am dismissed, I think."
Coldly Monsieur d'Artois inclined his head in assent. De Batz in a fury made a clicking sound with his tongue. But before he could commit himself to any solecism that must have made matters worse, the Regent, to the surprise of all, had intervened. He was almost nervous in manner. His florid face seemed to have lost some of its colour. The podgy hand he extended as he spoke could be seen to shake.
"Ah, but wait! Wait, Monsieur Moreau! A moment, I beg!"
His brother looked down at him in angry uncomprehending astonishment. It was unbelievable that it was the Regent of France who had spoken. Monsieur, usually so cold, correct and formal, so fully imbued with a sense of the dignity of his office, so observant of etiquette that even to give audience in this wooden hut at Hamm he donned the ribbon of the Holy Ghost and hung a dress sword at his side, appeared completely to have forgotten what was due to him. Otherwise he could not have addressed in that tone of almost scared intercession a man who had permitted himself to be insolent in speech and carriage. To Monsieur d'Artois this was the end of the world. Not for a throne could he have believed that his brother would so abase himself.
"Monseigneur!" he exclaimed in a voice that expressed his horror and dismay.
But all the majesty seemed to have deserted the Regent. He spoke mildly, conciliatorily. "We must not be ungenerous. We must keep in view that Monsieur Moreau offers a very gallant service." He seemed only just to have become aware of it. "It would be ungenerous either to decline it, or to look too closely into—ah—the general sentiments by which Monsieur Moreau is—ah—inspired."
"You think so?" said Monsieur d'Artois tartly, his brows drawn together at the root of his Bourbon nose.
"I think so," he was curtly answered, in a tone of finality, a tone which seemed clearly to imply that it was the speaker who occupied the throne and whose will was paramount. "Myself, I am very grateful to Monsieur Moreau for his readiness to serve us by an undertaking whose perils I do not underestimate. If, as we must hope, the undertaking is successful, I shall express that gratitude liberally. The extent of my liberality will be governed only by the political opinions then held by Monsieur Moreau. He will perceive how inevitable this is. But until then I do not think that his past opinions and activities need concern us. I repeat, it would be ungenerous to permit them to do so."
The amazement had deepened in his audience. This unusual and sudden degree of graciousness bewildered them, with the possible exception of the keen-witted alert Monsieur d'Entragues, who thought that he understood the Regent's anxieties.
Monsieur d'Artois was crimson, his vanity affronted by an opposition which had been displayed almost in the terms of a rebuke. He took a haughty tone.
"The repetition is quite unnecessary. I was not likely to forget that so uncompromising a word as 'ungenerous' had been used. I will not dwell upon this now. Since our views of this matter are so wide asunder, I can have no further part in it." And abruptly he turned upon his heel.
The Regent scowled. "Monseigneur," he cried, "you are not to forget that I occupy the place of the King."
"Your highness leaves me in no danger of forgetting it," was the younger prince's bitter rejoinder, disloyal at once to the representative of royalty and to the dead Sovereign. On that he went out, slamming the door after him.
The Regent made a clumsy effort to dispel the discomfort left by that departure.
"My brother, messieurs, takes in these matters an uncompromising attitude, which we must respect, even if we do not feel called upon to share it." He sighed. "There is a rigidity in his ideals, which are very exalted, very noble." He paused, and then changed his tone. "Little remains, I think, to be said. I have already expressed, Monsieur de Batz, my appreciation of the endeavours which you and Monsieur Moreau are about to exert. For anything else that you require, Monsieur d'Entragues is at your service, and I am happy that with him, too, an understanding should have been reached."
"There is one other matter, monseigneur," said de Batz. "Funds."
His highness was startled. He flung up his hands. "In the name of Heaven, Monsieur de Batz! Do you ask us for money?"
"No, monseigneur. Merely for authority to provide it." And in answer to the Regent's stare, he smiled significantly, "In the usual way, monseigneur."
It was clear that his highness understood. But he was still not comfortable. He looked at d'Entragues as if for guidance.
D'Entragues thrust out a deprecatory lip. "You know, monseigneur, the trouble there has been already and the undertakings you have given."
"But those," ventured Monsieur de Batz, "apply only here abroad, and not to France."
The Regent nodded and considered. "You give me your word, Monsieur le Baron, that these assignats will be employed only in France?"
"Freely, monseigneur. I have still enough gold for our journey across the Rhine."
"Very well, then. You must do what is necessary. But you realize the danger?"
De Batz smiled confidently. "As for danger, it is the least of those we shall confront, and I employ very skilful hands, monseigneur."
Upon that his highness closed the audience with a few words of valediction, and graciously proffered his hand to be kissed by those two adventurers.
Outside in the sunshine, as they squelched their way through the thawing snow, the Gascon loosed at last his annoyance in a volley of profanity.
"If it were not that I rate the game above the stakes I should have told their highnesses in round terms to go to the devil, together with that infernal pimp d'Entragues. God of my life! To have to go on one's knees to beg the honour of being permitted to get one's self killed in their service!"
André-Louis smiled upon his fury. "You do not realize the honour of dying in their cause. Have patience with them. They are merely players of parts. And Destiny has given them parts too big for their puny wits. Fortunately for our self-respect Monsieur turned gracious at the end."
"Which provides the morning's most surprising event. Hitherto he has been the more intransigent, the more self-sufficient of the twain."
André-Louis brushed the mystery aside. "Ah, well! I am content that my dismissal was not confirmed. I have my own interests to serve in the adventure. For I am Scaramouche, remember. Not a knight-errant."
But it was as a knight-errant that Monsieur de Kercadiou and Aline regarded him when they heard to what desperate adventure he was pledged. Aline perceived only the dangers, and that evening after supper, when for a little while she was alone with André-Louis, she gave expression to her fears for him.
He glowed at this fresh proof of her tenderness even whilst distressed by her distress. He set himself to tranquilize her. He dwelt upon the immunity which circumspection ensured, freely quoting de Batz on the subject. But the mention of the Baron's name was an incitement to her.
"That man!" she cried, a world of condemnation in her voice.
"Oh, but a very gallant gentleman," André-Louis defended him.
"A reckless harebrain, dangerous to all who are associated with him. He makes me afraid, André. He will not be lucky to you. I feel it. I know it."
"Intuitions?" he said tolerantly, smiling down upon her where she stood against him, her face upturned to his.
"Ah, do not sneer, André," Agitation had brought her, who rarely wept, to the verge of tears. "If you love me, André, you will not go."
"I go because I love you. I go so that at last I may win you for my wife. Honours there will be, no doubt, and material gains to crown success. But these stand for nothing in my calculations. It is you I go to win."
"Where is the need, since I am won already? For the rest, we could wait."
It was anguish to deny the intercession in those dear eyes. He could but remind her that his word was pledged, doubly pledged: to the Regent as well as to de Batz. He urged her to be brave and to have in him some of the confidence which he had in himself.
She promised at last that she would try, and then to her promise added: "Yet if you go, my André, I know that I shall never see you again. I have a premonition of evil."
"Dear child! That is but a fancy born of your distress."
"It is not. I need you. I need you near me. To guard me."
"To guard you? But from what?"
"I do not know. There is some danger. I sense it about me—about us if we are apart. It is instinctive."
"And yet, dear love, you had no such instinct when I proposed to go to Dresden."
"Ah, but Dresden is near at hand. At need a message could bring you to me, or I could go to you. But once you are in France you are as one trapped in a cage, cut off from the remainder of the world. André! André! Is it, indeed, too late?"
"Too late for what?" said Monsieur de Kercadiou, who entered at that moment.
She told him bluntly. He was shocked, outraged. Had she so little loyalty, so little sense of every loyal man's duty in this dreadful time that she should weaken André's heroic resolve by a maudlin opposition? For once Monsieur de Kercadiou was really angry, and he stormed upon her as he had never yet stormed in all the years that she had been under his tutelage.
Limp, shamed, defeated, she withdrew; and next morning André-Louis rode out of Hamm to take the road to France.
With him rode Monsieur de Batz and a Monsieur Armand de Langéac, a young gentleman of a Languédoc family attached to them by Monsieur d'Entragues.
They were disposed to be light-hearted. But in the ears of André-Louis rang ever Aline's cry: "If you go, my André, I know that I shall never see you again."