Orrain | Page 6

Brusquet I did not recognize at all,
though I noticed the royal cipher on his pourpoint. As for the other,
there is only one house in France that bears such features, and the
greatest of them all is now King, and owes his being to the man who
stood before me.
As the lights fell on us I noticed a quick glance pass between the two,
and Le Brusquet's hand moved beneath his cloak. It was as if suspicion
were gone and he had resheathed his poniard. I smiled to myself; but
Pierrebon now entered with a ewer and the things I required. He placed
these on the table, and at a look from me, which he understood,
vanished again.
I set myself at once to dress the wound, which was, after all, but a
slight affair, though it had bled freely. I said so as I finished, adding
that if it had been a trifle deeper the business would have been serious;
but, as it was, a couple of days would mend matters entirely, except for
a patch.
"Not Frenel himself could have tended me better," said the wounded
man. "Monsieur, I am deeply obliged to you."
And Pierrebon entering at this time with some wine I begged them to
do me the honour to drink a cup.
This they willingly assented to, and filling three cups from the flagon I
raised mine on high.
"Messieurs, a toast for all good Christians! Down with the crescent!"

They understood and drank--Le Brusquet with a searching look in his
eyes and a smile on his lips, and his companion with a reckless laugh.
And now they rose. "Monsieur," said the wounded man, "will you add
to your kindness by telling us to whom we are indebted? You are a
soldier--I can see that--and I can keep that sword of yours from rusting
if you will."
So he had not recognised me! Well, ten years make a difference! And
yet, if once, he had seen me a hundred times in the days when his
valiant brother Enghien lived. I began to feel sure that if he did not
know me I was safe indeed; but I had no mind to change my present
peace for any other life, and so made answer:
"Monseigneur, it were idle for me to say that I do not know you. Rest
assured that were I so minded I could follow no braver or more
generous prince than Antony of Vendôme, but my sword is hung to the
wall. My name is Broussel. I am bourgeois, as you see, and having a
small estate of fifty écus have all that suffices for the simple needs of a
citizen such as I. Monseigneur, the little service I rendered is small; let
it be forgotten. Nevertheless, I thank you for the kind offer you have
made."
I delivered this speech with a respectful air, but yet in a tone that
carried the conviction that my resolve was unchangeable.
"As you will," said the Duke, with some coldness of manner. "A
Bourbon does not offer twice. And so, farewell! I fear 'tis a long road
and an ugly road we have yet to travel, thanks to my folly--eh, Le
Brusquet?"
Out of the tail of my eye I had been watching Le Brusquet. All this
time he had been engaged in examining the silver cup from which he
had drunk his wine--a relic of my past splendour. He toyed with it this
way and that, looking at the arms engraved thereon, and comparing
them with those on the flagon. Then his little eyes stole a swift,
searching glance at me, and a smile--just the shadow of a
smile--flickered over his lips. He had not, however, lost a word of what

was passing between Vendôme and myself, and on the Duke addressing
him he put down the cup he held in his hand, saying quietly: "If
Monsieur Broussel will add to his kindness by lending me a sword it
may, perhaps, be better for us, and I promise faithfully to return it."
Without a word I took a sword from the wall and handed it to Le
Brusquet, who received it with a bow, and then, turning to the Duke, I
offered to accompany them to the end of the street, which was an evil
place even by day. I added that a little beyond the end of the street was
the Gloriette, where the guards of Monsieur the Lieutenant of the
Châtelet were to be found, and that thence their way would be safe.
The Duke pulled a long face, apparently at the thought of having to
disclose his identity to the guards of the Châtelet, but Le Brusquet cut
in with a "Let it be so, Monseigneur. Three are better than