The Forty-Five Guardsmen | Page 5

the river. It will
make the fortune of the poor devil who finds it."--"So that you have
none?"
"Oh, there are plenty in Paris, cap de Bious! I will buy a more
magnificent one, and put in it a still larger diamond."
The officer shrugged his shoulders slightly, and said, "Have you a
card?"
"Certainly I have one--or rather two."
"One is enough, if it be the right one."
"But it cannot be wrong--oh, no, cap de Bious! Is it to M. de Loignac
that I have the honor of speaking?"
"It is possible," said the officer coldly, and evidently not much charmed
at the recognition.
"M. de Loignac, my compatriot?"
"I do not say no."
"My cousin!"
"Good! Your card?"
"Here it is;" and the Gascon drew out the half of a card, carefully cut.
"Follow me," said De Loignac, without looking at it, "and your

companions, if you have any. We will verify the admissions."
The Gascon obeyed, and five other gentlemen followed him. The first
was adorned with a magnificent cuirass, so marvelous in its work that it
seemed as if it had come out of the hands of Benvenuto Cellini.
However, as the make of this cuirass was somewhat old-fashioned, its
magnificence attracted more laughter than admiration; and it is true that
no other part of the costume of the individual in question corresponded
with this magnificence. The second, who was lame, was followed by a
gray-headed lackey, who looked like the precursor of Sancho Panza, as
his master did of Don Quixote. The third carried a child of ten months
old in his arms, and was followed by a woman, who kept a tight grasp
of his leathern belt, while two other children, one four and the other
five years old, held by her dress.
The fourth was attached to an enormous sword, and the fifth, who
closed the troop, was a handsome young man, mounted on a black
horse. He looked like a king by the side of the others. Forced to
regulate his pace by those who preceded him, he was advancing slowly,
when he felt a sudden pull at the scabbard of his sword; he turned
round, and saw that it had been done by a slight and graceful young
man with black hair and sparkling eyes.
"What do you desire, monsieur?" said the cavalier.
"A favor, monsieur."
"Speak; but quickly, I pray you, for I am waited for."
"I desire to enter into the city, monsieur; an imperious necessity
demands my presence there. You, on your part, are alone, and want a
page to do justice to your appearance."
"Well?"
"Take me in, and I will be your page."
"Thank you; but I do not wish to be served by any one."

"Not even by me," said the young man, with such a strange glance, that
the cavalier felt the icy reserve in which he had tried to close his heart
melting away.
"I meant to say that I could be served by no one," said he.
"Yes, I know you are not rich, M. Ernanton de Carmainges," said the
young page. The cavalier started, but the lad went on, "therefore I do
not speak of wages; it is you, on the contrary, who, if you grant what I
ask, shall be paid a hundred-fold for the service you will render me; let
me enter with you, then, I beg, remembering that he who now begs, has
often commanded." Then, turning to the group of which we have
already spoken, the lad said, "I shall pass; that is the most important
thing; but you, Mayneville, try to do so also if possible."
"It is not everything that you should pass," replied Mayneville; "it is
necessary that he should see you."
"Make yourself easy; once I am through, he shall see me."
"Do not forget the sign agreed upon."
"Two fingers on the mouth, is it not?"
"Yes; success attend you."
"Well, monsieur page," said the man on the black horse, "are you
ready?"
"Here I am," replied he, jumping lightly on the horse, behind the
cavalier, who immediately joined his friends who were occupied in
exhibiting their cards and proving their right to enter.
"Ventre de Biche!" said Robert Briquet; "what an arrival of Gascons!"

CHAPTER III.
THE EXAMINATION.
The process of examination consisted in comparing the half card with
another half in the possession of the officer.
The Gascon with the bare head advanced first.
"Your name?" said De Loignac.
"It is on the card."
"Never mind; tell it to me."
"Well, I am called Perducas de Pincornay."
Then, throwing his eyes on the card. M. de Loignac read. "Perducas de
Pincornay, 26 October, 1585, at noon precisely. Porte St. Antoine."
"Very good; it is all right," said he, "enter. Now for you,"