The Suitors of Yvonne | Page 8

hands. The late Cardinal would have had you broken on the wheel for less. I have gone no farther than to dismiss you from my service--a clemency for which you should be grateful. But I shall not suffer that, in addition to the harm already done, Andrea shall be murdered by Canaples."
"I shall do my best to render him assistance."
"You still misapprehend me. This duel, sir, must not take place."
I shrugged my shoulders.
"How does your Eminence propose to frustrate it? Will you arrest Canaples?"
"Upon what plea, Monsieur? Think you I am anxious to have the whole of Paris howling in my ears?"
"Then possibly it is your good purpose to enforce the late king's edict against duelling, and send your guards to St. Germain to arrest the men before they engage?"
"Benone!" he sneered. "And what will Paris say if I now enforce a law that for ten years has been disregarded? That I feared for my nephew's skin and took this means of saving him. A pretty story to have on Paris's lips, would it not be?"
"Indeed, Monseigneur, you are right, but I doubt me the duel will needs be fought."
"Have I not already said that it shall not be fought?"
Again I shrugged my shoulders. Mazarin grew tiresome with his repetitions.
"How can it be avoided, your Eminence?"
"Ah, Monsieur, that is your affair."
"My affair?"
"Assuredly. 'T was through your evil agency he was dragged into this business, and through your agency he must be extricated from it."
"Your Eminence jests!"
"Undoubtedly,--'t is a jesting matter," he answered with terrible irony. "Oh, I jest! Per Dio! yes. But I'll carry my jest so far as to have you hanged if this duel be fought--aye, whether my nephew suffers hurt or not. Now, sir, you know what fate awaits you; fight it--turn it aside--I have shown you the way. The door, M. de Luynes."
CHAPTER III
THE FIGHT IN THE HORSE-MARKET
I let him go without a word. There was that in his voice, in his eye, and in the gesture wherewith he bade me hold the door for him, that cleared my mind of any doubts touching the irrevocable character of his determination. To plead was never an accomplishment of mine; to argue, I saw, would be to waste the Cardinal's time to no purpose.
And so I let him go,--and my curse with him,--and from my window I watched his coach drive away in the drizzling rain, scattering the crowd of awe- stricken loiterers who had collected at the rumour of his presence.
With a fervent prayer that his patron saint, the devil, might see fit to overset his coach and break his neck before he reached the Palace, I turned from the window, and called Michelot.
He was quick to answer my summons, bringing me the frugal measure of bread and wine wherewith it was my custom to break my fast. Then, whilst I munched my crust, I strode to and fro in the little chamber and exercised my wits to their utmost for a solution to the puzzle his Eminence had set me.
One solution there was, and an easy one--flight. But I had promised Andrea de Mancini that I would stand beside him at St. Germain; there was a slender chance of saving him if I went, whilst, if I stayed away, there would be nothing left for his Eminence to do but to offer up prayers for the rest of his nephew's soul.
Another idea I had, but it was desperate--and yet, so persistently did my thoughts revert to it that in the end I determined to accept it.
I drank a cup of Armagnac, cheered myself with an oath or two, and again I called Michelot. When he came, I asked him if he were acquainted with M. de Canaples, to which he replied that he was, having seen the gentleman in my company.
"Then," I said, "you will repair to M. de Canaples's lodging in the Rue des Gesvres, and ascertain discreetly whether he be at home. If he is, you will watch the house until he comes forth, then follow him, and bring me word thereafter where he is to be found. Should he be already abroad before you reach the Rue des Gesvres, endeavour to ascertain whither he has gone, and return forthwith. But be discreet, Michelot. You understand?"
He assured me that he did, and left me to nurse my unpleasant thoughts for half an hour, returning at the end of that time with the information that M. de Canaples was seated at dinner in the "Auberge du Soleil."
Naught could have been more attuned to my purpose, and straightway I drew on my boots, girt on my sword, and taking my hat and cloak, I sallied out into the rain, and wended my way at a sharp pace towards the Rue St. Honoré.
One o'clock was striking as