A Gentleman of France | Page 2

had still, it is true,
a rock and a few barren acres in Brittany, the last remains of the family
property; but the small small sums which the peasants could afford to
pay were sent annually to Paris, to my mother, who had no other dower.
And this I would not touch, being minded to die a gentleman, even if I
could not live in that estate.
Small as were my expectations of success, since I had no one at the
king's side to push my business, nor any friend at Court, I nevertheless
did all I could, in the only way that occurred to me. I drew up a petition,
and lying in wait one day for M. Forget, the King of Navarre's secretary,
placed it in his hand, begging him to lay it before that prince. He took it,
and promised to do so, smoothly, and with as much lip-civility as I had
a right to expect. But the careless manner in which he doubled up and
thrust away the paper on which I had spent so much labour, no less
than the covert sneer of his valet, who ran after me to get the customary

present--and ran, as I still blush to remember, in vain--warned me to
refrain from hope.
In this, however, having little save hope left, I failed so signally as to
spend the next day and the day after in a fever of alternate confidence
and despair, the cold fit following the hot with perfect regularity. At
length, on the morning of the third day--I remember it lacked but three
of Christmas--I heard a step on the stairs. My landlord living in his
shop, and the two intervening floors being empty, I had no doubt the
message was for me, and went outside the door to receive it, my first
glance at the messenger confirming me in my highest hopes, as well as
in all I had ever heard of the generosity of the King of Navarre. For by
chance I knew the youth to be one of the royal pages; a saucy fellow
who had a day or two before cried 'Old Clothes' after me in the street. I
was very far from resenting this now, however, nor did he appear to
recall it; so that I drew the happiest augury as to the contents of the
note he bore from the politeness with which he presented it to me.
I would not, however, run the risk of a mistake, and before holding out
my hand, I asked him directly and with formality if it was for me.
He answered, with the utmost respect, that it was for the Sieur de
Marsac, and for me if I were he.
'There is an answer, perhaps?' I said, seeing that he lingered.
'The King of Navarre, sir,' he replied, with a low bow, 'will receive
your answer in person, I believe.' And with that, replacing the hat
which he had doffed out of respect to me, he turned and went down the
stairs.
Returning to my room, and locking the door, I hastily opened the
missive, which was sealed with a large seal, and wore every appearance
of importance. I found its contents to exceed all my expectations. The
King of Navarre desired me to wait on him at noon on the following
day, and the letter concluded with such expressions of kindness and
goodwill as left me in no doubt of the Prince's intentions. I read it, I
confess, with emotions of joy and gratitude which would better have

become a younger man, and then cheerfully sat down to spend the rest
of the day in making such improvements in my dress as seemed
possible. With a thankful heart I concluded that I had now escaped
from poverty, at any rate from such poverty as is disgraceful to a
gentleman; and consoled myself for the meanness of the appearance I
must make at Court with the reflection that a day or two would mend
both habit and fortune.
Accordingly, it was with a stout heart that I left my lodgings a few
minutes before noon next morning, and walked towards the castle. It
was some time since I had made so public an appearance in the streets,
which the visit of the King of Navarre's Court; had filled with an
unusual crowd, and I could not help fancying as I passed that some of
the loiterers eyed me with a covert smile; and, indeed, I was shabby
enough. But finding that a frown more than sufficed to restore the
gravity of these gentry, I set down the appearance to my own self-
consciousness, and, stroking my moustachios, strode along boldly until
I saw before me, and coming to meet me, the same page who had
delivered