The Duke's Motto: A Melodrama Read online

  IV

  THE LITTLE PARISIAN

  The new-comer was a young man of little over one-and-twenty, of mediumheight, but with a well-built, well-knit figure that gave a promise ofextraordinary strength and power of endurance, coupled at the same timewith a scarcely less extraordinary suppleness. He had a face that wascertainly handsome, though many handsomer faces were familiar in Paris atthat day, but none more gallant, and, indeed, its chief charm was itsalmost audacious air of self-reliance, of unfailing courage, ofchangeless composure, and unconquerable humor. The eyes were bright andlaughing. Even now, although the man was undoubtedly angry, his eyesstill smiled in unison with his lips. His dark hair fell gracefully abouthis shoulders. He wore a somewhat faded white coat, girdled with acrimson sash--the white coat of a captain in the king's Light-Horse--and,though he carried himself with an easy dignity, the general condition ofhis dress showed he was one who was neither afraid of nor unfamiliar withpoverty. Now he looked around him with a bright defiance, seeminglydiverted by the havoc his single pair of arms and legs--for he had usedboth limbs in the brawl--had wrought among nine swashbucklers, andapparently prepared at any moment to repeat the performance, if occasioncalled for action.

  It was curious to observe that, though the new-comer had worked suchconfusion among the bravos whom he had taken so roughly unawares, he didnot show any sign of having passed through a scuffle with a number of menor having accomplished anything especially arduous in bringing them soswiftly to discomfiture. His breathing was not quickened, his comelyyoung face was unflushed. As he stood there lightly poised in an easyattitude that might at any moment be resolved into an attitude ofdefence, he seemed, to such of his spectators as had sufficientlyrecovered their senses to look at him coolly, rather to resemble one thathad come in on the heels of a tuss and was watching its result withunconcerned eyes than one that with no more assistance than his own agilelimbs had been the cause of humiliation to so many powerful adversaries.Staupitz, blinking fiercely as he rubbed his aching head, which hadrattled sharply against the table that arrested his flight across theroom, was too bewildered to swear out the oaths that were frothing withinhim when he realized that the earthquake, the whirlwind, the cataclysmthat had tumbled him and his companions about like so many nine-pins wasno other and no more than the slim and pleasant young gentleman whostood there so composedly. While the bewildered ruffians were pickingthemselves up, and with some little difficulty recovering their breath,the young gentleman addressed them mockingly: "Are there quite enough ofyou to manage this adversary?" And as he spoke he pointed to the littlepage who was huddled at his feet.

  AEsop was the first of the bravos to recover his troubled senses and toseek to retaliate upon his assailant. He whipped his long rapier from itssheath, and was making for the intruder when Cocardasse flung his strongarms around the hunchback and restrained him. "Be easy," he cried; "it isthe little Parisian!" And at the same moment Passepoil, with the gestureof one who salutes in a fencing-school, exclaimed the name "Lagardere."

  As for the other ruffians, they gathered together sulkily enough aboutthe table, staring at the stranger. His face was familiar to all of them,and there was not one among them bold enough to follow the example ofAEsop. Lagardere, who had taken no notice of the threatened attack of thehunchback, surveyed the group, and, glancing from them, addressed himselfto Cocardasse and Passepoil.

  "Why, my old masters," he asked, drolling them, "what are you doing inthis desperate adventure? You ought to be careful. The boy might havehurt you." His eyes turned from the Gascon and the Norman back again tothe fellows at the table. "Some of these scarecrows seem familiar." Hisglance rested on Staupitz, and he questioned him: "Where have we met?"

  Staupitz saluted Lagardere very respectfully as he answered: "At Lyons."

  Lagardere seemed to search his memory and to find what he sought. "True.You touched me once."

  Staupitz made an apologetic gesture. "Only once in twelve times."

  Lagardere turned to Saldagno, Pepe, and Pinto. "Ah, my bandits of Madrid,who tried me, three to one."

  Saldagno was more apologetic than Staupitz, with a Latin profusion ofgesture, as he explained: "That was for a wager, captain."

  Lagardere shrugged his shoulders. "Which you did not win." He turned toJoel de Jurgan. "Does your head still carry my cut?"

  The Breton lifted a large hand to his bullet head and fumbled through thethick hair for a familiar spot. "There is a scar," he admitted.

  Lagardere turned to the Italian. "Do you still," he asked, "hold theItalian school to be superior to the French?"

  Faenza shook his head. "Not when you practise the French method," heanswered, politely.

  There was a little pause, and then AEsop, who had by this time beenreleased from the embrace of Cocardasse, and had sheathed his sword, cameforward and faced Lagardere. "I desire acquaintanceship, CaptainLagardere. Men call me AEsop."

  Lagardere gazed at the hunchback, and a look of displeasure banished themirth from his eyes. "I have heard of you," he said, curtly. "A goodsword and a bad heart. I don't like the blend. You may go to the devil."

  He turned away from AEsop and bent over the lad, who still crouched at hisfeet. "Now, lad, you must promise not to hurt these gentlemen, for someof them are friends of mine."

  While the bravos tried not to appear annoyed by Lagardere's banter,which, indeed, in its simplicity vexed their simple natures greatly, thepage rose to his feet and whispered softly to his rescuer, "I have aletter for you from the Duke de Nevers."

  Lagardere extended his hand. "Give it," he said.

  The page produced the letter, of which AEsop had been so anxious to gainpossession, and handed it to Lagardere, whispering as he did so, "Save mefrom these ogres. I carry another letter to a lady."

  Lagardere smiled. "To Gabrielle de Caylus, I'll swear," he murmured in alow voice which was calculated only to reach the page's ears. Then heturned again to the swordsmen. "Sirs, this lad, more fastidious than I,dislikes your society. Pray respect his prejudices." He pushed the pagegently towards the main door. "Hop, skip, jump!"

  In a moment the page had glided out of the room. AEsop made a movement asif he were inclined to follow, but any such intention was frustrated byLagardere, who shut the door after the boy and stood with his backtowards it. "Stay where you are, gentlemen," he said, and there wassomething so persuasive in the way in which he said it that the gentlemenstayed where they were. Then Lagardere, as if he had almost forgottentheir presence, slowly walking down the room till he paused in themiddle, opened the letter and began to read it. As he seemed absorbed byits contents, Staupitz on the one side and AEsop on the other camecautiously towards him with the intention of reading the letter over hisshoulder, but Lagardere's seeming forgetfulness of their presenceinstantly changed. He looked up sharply, glancing right and left, andAEsop and Staupitz fell back in confusion, while Lagardere spoke to them,mocking them: "You will dub me eccentric; you will nickname me whimsical;you will damn me for a finicking stickler, and all because I am such anold-fashioned rascal as to wish to keep my correspondence to myself.There, there, don't be crestfallen. This letter makes me so merry thatyou shall share its treasure. But, first, fill and drink with me, a nobletoast."

  To suggest drinking was to forge a link between the bravos and the manwho down-faced them so masterfully. The big jug seemed to jump from handto hand, every mug was full in a twinkling, and every face was fixedsteadfastly on Lagardere, waiting for his words. Lagardere lifted hisbrimming beaker with a voice of joyous mockery that carried at oncedefiance and respect to a distant man. "The health of Louis of Nevers!"he said, and drained his green wine as cheerfully as if it had been theelixir of the gods.

  At his words blank astonishment spread over the faces of the Gascon andthe Norman. "He said 'Nevers,'" Cocardasse whispered to Passepoil, andPassepoil whispered back, "He did." As for the other bravos, they hadbeen as much surprised as Cocardasse and Passepoil by Lagardere'srequest, but they managed to conceal the
ir surprise by lifting theirmugs, and now as they nodded and winked to one another, they tilted theirvessels and drank, shouting, "The health of Louis de Nevers!"

  Cocardasse came nearer to Lagardere, and said in a voice that was almosta whisper, "Why do you drink the health of Louis de Nevers?"

  Lagardere looked for a moment annoyed at the presumption of Cocardasse inquestioning him, then the annoyance gave place to his familiar air oftolerant amusement. "I don't love questions, but you have a kind of rightto query." He turned to the others. "You must know, sirs, that this pairof rapiers were my fairy godfathers in the noble art of fence."

  The Norman looked at Lagardere with a very loving expression. "You were asad little rag of humanity when first you came to our fencing-academy."

  "You are right there," said Lagardere. "I was the poorest, hungriestscrap of mankind in all Paris. I had neither kin nor friends nor pence,nothing but a stout heart and a sense of humor. That is why I came toyour academy, old rogues."

  Cocardasse was reminiscent. "Faith, you looked droll enough, with yourpale face and your shabby clothes. 'I want to be a soldier,' says you; 'Iwant to use the sword.'"

  Lagardere nodded. "That was my stubborn law. The world laughed at me, butI laughed at the world, and I won my wish."

  "Just think of it!" said Cocardasse. "Henri de Lagardere, a gentlemanborn, without a decent relative, without a decent friend, without apenny, making his livelihood as a strolling player in the booth of amountebank."

  While Cocardasse was speaking, Lagardere seemed to listen like a man in adream. He forgot for the moment the reeking Inn room where he stood, thebeastly visages that surrounded him, the whimsy that had drifted himthither. All these things were forgotten, and the man that was littlemore than a boy in years was in fancy altogether a boy again, ashivering, quivering slip of a boy that stood on the gusty high-road andknuckled his eyelids to keep his eyes from crying. How long ago itseemed, that time twelve years ago when a mutinous urchin fled from atruculent uncle to seek his fortune as Heaven might please to guide!Heaven guided an itinerant mime and mountebank that tramped France withhis doxy to a wet hedge-side where a famished, foot-sore scrap of a ladlay like a tired dog, trying not to sob. The mountebank was curious, themountebank's doxy was kind; both applauded lustily the boy's resolve tomarch to Paris, cost what it might cost, and make his fortune there. Theend of the curiosity and the kindness and the applause was that thelittle Lagardere found himself at once the apprentice and the adopted sonof the mountebank, with his fortune as far off as the stars. But helearned many things, the little Lagardere, under the care of that samemountebank; all that the mountebank could teach him he learned, and heinvented for himself tricks that were beyond the mountebank's skill. Howlong ago it seemed! Would ever space of time seem so long again? So theyoung man mused swiftly, while Cocardasse told his tale; but ereCocardasse had finished, Lagardere was back in the tavern again, and,when Cocardasse had finished, Lagardere caught him up: "Why not? Someactors are as honest as bandits. I was no bad mummer, sirs. I couldcounterfeit any one of you now so that your mother wouldn't know thecheat. And my master made me an athlete, too; taught me every trick ofwrestling and tumbling and juggling with the muscles. That is why I wasable to tumble you about so pleasantly just now. I should have been amountebank to this day but for an accident."

  Passepoil was curious. "What accident?" he asked.

  Lagardere answered him: "A brawl over a wench with a bully. I challengedhim, though I was more at home with a toasting-fork than a sword. Icaught up an unfamiliar weapon, but he nicked the steel from my hand at apass and banged me with the flat of his blade. The girl laughed. Thebully grinned. I swore to learn swordcraft."

  "And you did," said Passepoil. "In six months you were our best pupil."

  Cocardasse continued: "In twelve you were our master."

  Passepoil questioned again: "What became of your bully?"

  Lagardere was laconic: "We had a chat afterwards. I attended hisfuneral."

  Cocardasse clapped his hands. "Well begun, little Parisian."

  Passepoil pointed admiringly at Lagardere. "Look at you now, a captain inthe king's guard."

  Lagardere laughed cheerfully. "Look if you like, but I am no such thing.I am cashiered, exiled from Paris."

  "Why?" asked Cocardasse, and Lagardere replied with a question: "Do youremember the Baron de Brissac?"

  Cocardasse nodded. "One of the best swords in Paris."

  Lagardere resumed: "Well, the late baron--"

  Passepoil interrupted: "The late baron?"

  Lagardere explained: "Brissac had a lewd tongue and smirched a woman. SoI pulled his ears."

  Cocardasse grinned. "The devil you did!"

  "Yes," said Lagardere, "they were very long and tempting. We resumed theargument elsewhere. It was brief. Good-bye, Brissac! But as the goodking, thanks to the good cardinal, now frowns upon duelling, I am exiledwhen I ought to be rewarded."

  Cocardasse sighed. "There is no encouragement for virtue nowadays."

  Lagardere's voice was as cheerful as if there were no such thing in theworld as exile. "Well, there I was at my wit's end, and my nimble witsfound work for me. 'If I must leave France,' I said, 'I will go to Spain,where the spirit of chivalry still reigns.' So I raised a regiment ofadventurers like myself--broken gentlemen, ruined spendthrifts, poordevils out at elbow, gallant soldiers of fortune one and all. They waitfor me a mile from here. We shall find work to do in Spain or elsewhere.The world is wide, and it has always work for good swords to do."

  Cocardasse looked at him admiringly. "Your sword will never rust for wantof use," he said, with approval.

  Lagardere answered him, briskly: "Why should it? 'Tis the best friend inthe world. What woman's eye ever shone as brightly as its blade, whatwoman's tongue ever discoursed such sweet music?"

  Cocardasse took off his hat and swung it. "Hurrah for the sword!" heshouted.

  Lagardere's glance applauded his enthusiasm. "Iron was God's best gift toman, and he God's good servant who hammered it into shape and gave itpoint and edge. I shall never be happy until I am master of it."

  AEsop joined the conversation mockingly. "I thought you were master ofit," he said, with an obvious sneer.

  Cocardasse and Passepoil looked horrified at the hunchback'simpertinence, but Lagardere did not seem to be vexed, and answered, quiteamiably: "So did I till lately." Then he said, addressing himselfgenerally to the company: "Have any of you ever heard of the thrust ofNevers?"

  A tremor of excitement ran through his audience. Cocardasse took up thetalk: "We spoke of it but now."

  "Well," said Lagardere, "what do you think of it?"

  AEsop, the irrepressible, thrust in his opinion. "Never was secret thrustinvented that cannot be parried."

  Lagardere looked at him somewhat contemptuously. "So I thought till Icrossed swords with Nevers. Now I think differently."

  Cocardasse whistled. "The devil you do," he commented.

  "I will tell you all about it," said Lagardere. "It happened three monthsago. That secret thrust piqued me. Then people talked too much aboutNevers; that irritated me. Wherever I went, from court to camp, fromtavern to palace, the name of Nevers was dinned in my ears. The barberdressed your hair a la Nevers. The tailor cut your coat a la Nevers.Fops carried canes a la Nevers; ladies scented themselves a la Nevers.One day at the inn they served me cutlets a la Nevers. I flung the damneddish out of the window. On the doorstep I met my boot-maker, who offeredto sell me a pair of boots a la Nevers. I cuffed the rascal and flung himten louis as a salve. But the knave only said to me: 'Monsieur de Neversbeat me once, but he gave me a hundred pistoles.'"

  Passepoil sighed for the sorrows of his young pupil: "Poor littleParisian!"

  Lagardere went on with his tale: "Now I am vainglorious enough to holdthat cutlets would taste good if they were cooked a la Lagardere; thatcoats a la Lagardere would make good wearing, and boots a la Lagarderegood walking. I came to the conclusion that Paris was not big eno
ugh forthe pair of us, and that Nevers was the man to quit the field. Like AEsopyonder, I laughed at the secret thrust."

  He paused, and Cocardasse questioned: "But you don't laugh now?"

  Lagardere answered him, gravely: "Not a laugh. I waited for Nevers oneevening outside the Louvre and saluted him. 'Sir,' I said, in my grandestmanner, 'I rely upon your courtesy to give me a moonlight lesson in yoursecret thrust.' Lord, how he started. 'Who the devil are you?' says he. Imade him a magnificent bow. 'I am Henri de Lagardere, of the king'sLight-Horse. I am always in trouble, always in debt, always in love.These are misfortunes a man can endure. But I am always hearing of yourmerits, which is fretting, and of your irresistible secret thrust, andthat is unbearable.'"

  Lagardere paused to give dramatic effect to the point in his narrative.

  "What did he say to that?" asked Passepoil.

  Lagardere went on: "'Ah,' said the duke, 'you are the fellow they callhandsome Lagardere'" (Lagardere interrupted the flow of his story with apathetic parenthesis--"I can't help it, they do call me so"); "'peopletalk too much about you, and that wearies me'; which shows that he had atouch of my complaint. Well, he was civility itself. We went down by thechurch of St.-Germain, and had scarcely crossed swords when the point ofhis rapier pricked me here, just between the eyes. I was touched--I,Lagardere--and if I had not leaped backward I should have been a deadman. 'That is my secret thrust,' says the duke with a smile, and wishedme good-evening."