Roads of Destiny | Page 8

and artless eye. "Take good care of my house. Alas! only the
memories of it are mine now. Adieu, and accept my thanks for your
courtesy."
She was gone, leaving but a smile and a trace of sweet perfume. David
climbed the stairs as one in slumber. But he awoke from it, and the
smile and the perfume lingered with him and never afterward did either

seem quite to leave him. This lady of whom he knew nothing drove
him to lyrics of eyes, chansons of swiftly conceived love, odes to
curling hair, and sonnets to slippers on slender feet.
Poet he must have been, for Yvonne was forgotten; this fine, new
loveliness held him with its freshness and grace. The subtle perfume
about her filled him with strange emotions.
* * * * *
On a certain night three persons were gathered about a table in a room
on the third floor of the same house. Three chairs and the table and a
lighted candle upon it was all the furniture. One of the persons was a
huge man, dressed in black. His expression was one of sneering pride.
The ends of his upturned moustache reached nearly to his mocking eyes.
Another was a lady, young and beautiful, with eyes that could be round
and artless, as a child's, or long and cozening, like a gypsy's, but were
now keen and ambitious, like any other conspirator's. The third was a
man of action, a combatant, a bold and impatient executive, breathing
fire and steel. he was addressed by the others as Captain Desrolles.
This man struck the table with his fist, and said, with controlled
violence:
"To-night. To-night as he goes to midnight mass. I am tired of the
plotting that gets nowhere. I am sick of signals and ciphers and secret
meetings and such /baragouin/. Let us be honest traitors. If France is to
be rid of him, let us kill in the open, and not hunt with snares and traps.
To-night, I say. I back my words. My hand will do the deed. To-night,
as he goes to mass."
The lady turned upon him a cordial look. Woman, however wedded to
plots, must ever thus bow to rash courage. The big man stroked his
upturned moustache.
"Dear captain," he said, in a great voice, softened by habit, "this time I
agree with you. Nothing is to be gained by waiting. Enough of the
palace guards belong to us to make the endeavour a safe one."

"To-night," repeated Captain Desrolles, again striking the table. "You
have heard me, marquis; my hand will do the deed."
"But now," said the huge man, softly, "comes a question. Word must be
sent to our partisans in the palace, and a signal agreed upon. Our
stanchest men must accompany the royal carriage. At this hour what
messenger can penetrate so far as the south doorway? Ribouet is
stationed there; once a message is placed in his hands, all will go well."
"I will send the message," said the lady.
"You, countess?" said the marquis, raising his eyebrows. "Your
devotion is great, we know, but--"
"Listen!" exclaimed the lady, rising and resting her hands upon the
table; "in a garret of this house lives a youth from the provinces as
guileless and tender as the lambs he tended there. I have met him twice
or thrice upon the stairs. I questioned him, fearing that he might dwell
too near the room in which we are accustomed to meet. He is mine, if I
will. He writes poems in his garret, and I think he dreams of me. He
will do what I say. He shall take the message to the palace."
The marquis rose from his chair and bowed. "You did not permit me to
finish my sentence, countess," he said. "I would have said: 'Your
devotion is great, but your wit and charm are infinitely greater.'"
While the conspirators were thus engaged, David was polishing some
lines addressed to his /amorette d'escalier/. He heard a timorous knock
at his door, and opened it, with a great throb, to behold her there,
panting as one in straits, with eyes wide open and artless, like a child's.
"Monsieur," she breathed, "I come to you in distress. I believe you to
be good and true, and I know of no other help. How I flew through the
streets among the swaggering men! Monsieur, my mother is dying. My
uncle is a captain of guards in the palace of the king. Some one must
fly to bring him. May I hope--"
"Mademoiselle," interrupted Davis, his eyes shining with the desire to

do her service, "your hopes shall be my wings. Tell me how I may
reach him."
The lady thrust a sealed paper into his hand.
"Go to the