The Red Mask | Page 4

he wore a mask or not. Behind him came another
similarly clad, and so completely does a domino conceal the outlines of
a figure that I did not know which was the Cardinal and which the valet,
since they were both, more or less, of the same height. Nor, for that
matter, would it have been possible to discern whether they were men
or women.
"Are you there, Cavignac?" said Mazarin's voice.
"Here, your Eminence," I cried, springing up.
He who had spoken turned his face upon me, and a pair of eyes flashed
at me through the holes of a scarlet mask.
I stood dumbfounded for a moment as I thought of the risk he was thus
incurring. Then, remembering that he wore a shirt of mail, I grew easier
in my mind.
I glanced at the other silent figure standing beside him with bent head,
and wondered what had taken place. But I was given no time to waste
in thinking, for as I rose--
"Come, Cavaignac," he said, "put on your mask and let us go." I
obeyed him with that promptitude which twenty years of soldiering had
taught me, and, throwing open the door of the ante-chamber, I led the
way across to a certain panel with which I was well acquainted. A
secret spring answered promptly to my touch, and the panel swung
back, disclosing a steep and narrow flight of stairs.
Down this we proceeded swiftly, André first, for I cared not to risk
being pushed, which would have entailed a broken neck. I followed
close upon his heels, whilst the Cardinal brought up the rear. At the
bottom I opened another secret door, and passing through, we emerged

into the vestibule of a side and rarely-used entrance to the Palace
Mazarin.
The next moment we stood in the silent and deserted street.
"Will you see if the carriage is waiting, Cavaignac," said the Cardinal.
I bowed, and was on the point of executing his command, when, laying
his hand upon my armé
"When we reach the Louvre," he said, "you will follow at a distance,
lest by standing too close to me you should excite suspicion, and," he
added, "on no account speak to me. Now see to the coach."
I walked rapidly to the corner of the Rue St Honoré, where I found an
old-fashioned vehicle, such as is used by the better bourgeoisie, in
waiting.
With a whistle I aroused the half-slumbering driver, and bidding him
sharply hold himself in readiness, I returned to his Eminence.
In silence I followed the two masked figures down the dark, slippery
street, for it had rained during the day, and the stones were damp and
greasy. The old coachman stood aside for us to enter, little dreaming
that the eyes that scanned him through the scarlet mask were those of
the all-powerful Cardinal.
He whipped up his horses, and we started off at a snail's pace,
accompanied by a plentiful rumbling and jolting, particularly
distasteful to one accustomed, as I was, to the saddle.
It was not, however, a long drive to the Louvre, and I was soon relieved,
as the coach came to a standstill in a bye-street, as usual.
Alighting, I held my arm to the Cardinal, but, disregarding it, he
stepped heavily to the ground unaided, followed by André, on whom I
kept a sharp eye, lest the knave should attempt to run.
I followed them at a distance of some eight yards, as I had been ordered,

marvelling as I went what could be the Cardinal's plan of action.
We elbowed our way through a noisy dirty rabble, whom a dozen of the
King's Guards could scarcely keep from obstructing the side
entrance--used only by privileged individuals--in their curiosity to see
the fanciful costumes of the maskers.
It was close upon midnight when we entered the ball-room. His
Majesty, I learnt, had already withdrawn, feeling slightly indisposed;
therefore I concluded that if there was any serious conspiracy afoot, the
blow--which otherwise might have been restrained by the King's
presence--could not be long in falling.
Scarcely had we advanced a dozen paces, when my attention was
drawn to a tall, thin man, of good bearing, dressed after the fashion of a
jester of the days of the third or fourth Henry. He wore a black velvet
tunic, which descended to his knees, with a hood surmounted by a row
of bells; it was open in front, disclosing a doublet of yellow silk heavily
slashed with red. In keeping with this he wore one red and one yellow
stocking, and long pointed shoes of untanned leather.
The suit of motley admirably became his tall, lithe figure, and, in the
light of that night's events, I have often marvelled why he had chosen
so conspicuous