My Sword's My Fortune: A Story of Old France Read online

  Produced by Al Haines

  MY SWORD'S MY FORTUNE

  A STORY OF OLD FRANCE

  BY

  HERBERT HAYENS

  LONDON AND GLASGOW

  COLLINS' CLEAR-TYPE PRESS

  1904

  Contents.

  Chapter

  I. I Go to Paris II. La Boule d'Or III. I Enter the Astrologer's House IV. I Meet the Cardinal V. The Reception at the Luxembourg VI. Was I Mistaken? VII. The Cardinal takes an Evening Walk VIII. The Plot is Discovered IX. I Meet with an Exciting Adventure X. Pillot to the Rescue XI. A Scheme that Went Amiss XII. I have a Narrow Escape XIII. I again Encounter Maubranne XIV. I Fall into a Trap XV. Under Watch and Ward XVI. I become a Prisoner of the Bastille XVII. Free! XVIII. The Fight on the Staircase XIX. I Lose all Trace of Henri XX. News at Last XXI. The Death of Henri XXII. The Mob Rises XXIII. The Ladies Leave Paris XXIV. Captain Courcy Outwitted XXV. I Miss a Grand Opportunity XXVI. "Vive le Roi!" XXVII. The King Visits Raoul XXVIII. "Remember the Porte St. Antoine" XXIX. Mazarin Triumphant

  Illustrations

  "The air was filled with the clatter of steel."

  "The nobleman caught and fixed him."

  "Keep this in remembrance of this day."

  [Transcriber's notes:

  Gaps in the source book's page numbering indicate that fourillustrations were missing. Physical damage seems to indicate that thefrontispiece may also have been missing. Since there was no list ofillustrations in the book, it is not known what their captions were.Short transcriber's notes indicate the locations of the missingillustrations.]

  CHAPTER I.

  I Go to Paris.

  "Let the boy go to Paris," exclaimed our guest, Roland Belloc. "Iwarrant he'll find a path that will lead him to fortune."

  "He is young," said my father doubtfully.

  "He will be killed," cried my mother, while I stood upright against thewall and looked at Roland gratefully.

  It was in 1650, in the days of the Regency, and all France was in anuproar. Our most gracious monarch, Louis XIV., was then a boy oftwelve, and his Queen-Mother, Anne of Austria, ruled the country. Shehad a host of enemies, and only one friend, Cardinal Mazarin, a wilyItalian priest, who was perhaps the actual master of France.

  Roland Belloc, who was the Cardinal's man, had been staying for a dayor two in my father's company. He was a real soldier of fortune,strong as a bull, a fine swordsman, and afraid of no man living. Hetold us many startling tales of Paris.

  According to him, everything in the city, from the throne to thegutter, was in a state of unrest: no man knew what an hour would bringforth. One day people feasted and sang and danced in feverishmerriment: the next the barricades were up, and the denizens of thefilthy courts and alleys, eager for pillage, swarmed into the light.

  "Mazarin is like a wild boar," said he, "with a pack of hounds bayinground him. There is the Duke of Orleans, the king's uncle, who snapsand runs away; Conde is waiting to get a good bite; while the priest,De Retz, is the most mischievous of all."

  "It is almost as bad as war," said my father.

  "It is war, and nothing else. But," with a laugh, "the green scarf ofMazarin will be uppermost at the finish. What do you say, Albert? Areyou willing to don the Cardinal's colours?"

  "I know little of these things, monsieur, but my sympathies are for theQueen-Mother."

  "Of course they are!" cried he, giving me a resounding slap on theback; "so are mine, but Anne of Austria would never hold her ownwithout the Cardinal. Come, De Lalande, let the youngster go. Youwill not regret it, I promise. He may not get Vancey back, but thereare other estates to be won by a strong arm. Shake yourself, boy, andcome out into the daylight. You are moping here like a barn-owl."

  "The simile is good, Roland, for he lives in a barn. If I thought----"

  "If you thought! Why, man, there is no thinking in it; the thing is asplain as the Castle yonder from the bridge over the river. He is astrapping lad, and knows how to handle a sword I'll warrant. Eh,Albert? What will he do here? Take root and grow into a turnip aslikely as not. Pah! I have no patience with you stay-at-home folks.Look at his cousin Henri!"

  "Henri is two years older."

  "Ay, he has the advantage there, but Albert's as well grown, andbetter. Henri is a young scamp, too, I admit, but he is making a namealready. He is hand in glove with De Retz."

  "Albert belongs to the elder branch of the family," said my motherstiffly, and the soldier was going to make answer but thought better ofit.

  "It is kind of you to show such interest in the lad," remarked myfather presently, "and we will consider the matter."

  "As you please, old friend. Follow your own judgment, but should hetake it into his head to wear the green scarf, let him inquire at thePalais Royal for Roland Belloc."

  That night, after our guest rode away, I lay awake a long time thinkingover his words. The prospect held out by him seemed to be an answer tomy dreams. For many years now the fortunes of the elder branch of theDe Lalande family had sunk lower and lower. My grandfather had beenstripped of vast estates because he would not change his opinions tosuit the times, and my father had been, as most folks thought it,equally foolish.

  Unhappily, he never by any chance espoused the winning side. His housewas a "Camp of Refuge" for broken men of every party, who never suedfor relief in vain. The poor and infirm, the blind, the halt, and themaimed, for twenty miles around, were his family, and he never weariedof giving, till, of all our original possessions, one poor farm andhomestead alone remained.

  The splendid mansion of Vancey, which my grandfather had owned, nowbelonged to Baron Maubranne, and was often filled with a glitteringthrong from Paris. Occasionally my cousin Henri made one of the party,and I could not help reflecting somewhat bitterly on the differencebetween us.

  He was two years my senior, though I was as tall as he, and more thanhis equal in strength. But he was handsomely dressed and in the newestfashion, while I went about in a dingy suit that was not far fromthreadbare. I never envied Henri, mind you, or thought the worse ofhim, because his father had prospered in the world, but it was seeinghim, that, in the first place, led me to build my castles in the air.

  My one idea in those days was to obtain possession of Vancey, where theDe Lalandes had lived and died for centuries. How it was to be done Ihad not the least notion, and I never spoke of it to others; butRoland's talk set me thinking.

  His advice seemed good. I must go to Paris and take service with someprominent man. I would serve him faithfully; he would advance myinterests, and in the course of time I might save sufficient money topurchase the family estate, whither I would remove my mother and fatherthat they might pass the end of their days in peace. That was thedream which the soldier's words had started afresh.

  My father would have let me go willingly enough, but my dear mother,who had never seen the capital, feared for my welfare.

  "This Paris," said she, "is a wicked place, full of snares and pitfallsfor young and old. Rest content where you are, my son, and be noteager to rush into temptation. I think not so much of bodily peril asof danger to the soul."

  "Albert is a gentleman," said my father, "and the son of a gentleman:he will do nothing dishonourable."

  Perhaps after all I should never have left home, but for an incidentwhich happened a few days after Belloc's departure. One evening I hadwandered across the meadows skirting the river, and, busy with mythoughts, had unconsciously strayed into the private grounds at Vancey.The voices of men in earnest conversation bro
ke my dream, and I foundmyself at the back of a pleasant arbour.

  "It is far too risky," said one. "Let De Retz find his toolselsewhere. If the plot fails----"

  "Pshaw!" exclaimed another, "it can't fail. I tell you De Retz hasspread his net so carefully that we are certain to land the big fish."

  Unwilling to pry into other people's secrets, I was turning back whenthe speakers, hearing the noise, rushed from the arbour, with theirswords half drawn. One was the owner of the chateau: the other mycousin Henri.

  "What beggar's brat is this?" cried Maubranne. "Off to your kennel,you rascal, and stay there till I send my servants to whip you."

  "Why, 'tis my cousin," said Henri, in surprise.

  "How came you here, Albert? These are private grounds."

  "Yes," I answered bitterly, "and once they belonged to your grandfatherand mine."

  "Faith," laughed he carelessly, "he should have taken better care ofthem. How long have you been here?"

  "A few minutes. Do not be afraid; I learned none of your business."

  "If I thought you had," growled Maubranne suspiciously, "you shouldnever leave the place. _Peste!_ it wouldn't be a bad idea to keep youas it is; you would be back under your own roof," and he ended with abrutal laugh.

  "Perhaps I shall be some day; less likely things than that havehappened."

  At this he laughed again, and bidding me take myself off his land,turned back to the arbour.

  The next morning, as I stood on the rustic bridge which spans thestream near Vancey, Henri came to join me. This was an unexpectedhonour, but he soon made the reason of it plain.

  "Perhaps it is no business of mine," said he, "but I have come with awarning. You have made an enemy of Maubranne."

  "Then we are quits," I laughed, "as I have no love for him."

  "He thinks you played the spy upon him!"

  "Has he sent you to find out?" I asked hotly.

  "No, no; but the truth is, the situation is rather awkward. You mayhave heard something which Maubranne would not wish repeated."

  "I heard you say that De Retz was going to land a big fish and that hewanted the baron's assistance. What was meant I do not know, exceptthat there is some conspiracy afoot."

  "I believe you, cousin," said Henri, "but Maubranne won't, and ifanything goes wrong he will not spare you."

  "Thanks," said I lightly; "but I can take care of myself. I have notlived at Court, but my father has taught me the use of the sword."

  "Why," cried Henri laughing, "you are a regular fire-eater, but make nomistake, you will stand no chance with Maubranne. There are twentystout fellows yonder ready to do whatever they are told, and to ask noquestions. I bear you no particular love, cousin, but I wish you noill, and will give you a piece of advice. Attach yourself to somenobleman who will look after you; Maubranne will think twice beforeharming a follower of Conde or Orleans."

  "Or De Retz."

  "Ah," said he, "to be quite frank, I don't wish you to join De Retz.Relatives are best apart. However, I have given you my advice; it isfor you to act on it or not, as you think best."

  That night in a long talk with my father I related the whole incident,and repeated Henri's words.

  "Your cousin is right," he said thoughtfully. "Now that you havestirred up Maubranne's suspicions this is no place for you. The bestthing is to accept Belloc's offer, though 'twill be a dreary life foryou, alone in Paris."

  "Belloc will stand by me, and Raoul Beauchamp is somewhere in thecapital. He told me months ago that I can always get news of him at LaBoule d'Or in the Rue de Roi."

  "He is a fine fellow," said my father, "and his friendship is worthcultivating. But you must walk warily, Albert, and keep your eyesopen. Unfortunately my purse is nearly empty, but I daresay that fromtime to time I shall be able to send you a little money."

  My mother wept bitterly when she heard of the decision, but after awhile she became more reconciled, and helped to pack my few things.

  On the morning of my departure we sat down in very low spirits.Pierre, our faithful old servant, had prepared a simple meal, but noone seemed inclined to eat. At last we made an end of the pretence,and went to the door. "God keep you, my son," exclaimed my mother,embracing me; "I shall pray for you always."

  "Remember you are a De Lalande," said my father proudly, "and donothing that will disgrace your name."

  I kissed them both, and, walking to the gate, passed through. Outsidestood Pierre, who waited to wish me farewell.

  "Adieu, Pierre," I cried, trying to speak gaily. "Look after the oldplace till my return."

  The honest fellow's tears fell on my hand as he raised it to his lipsand said, "Adieu, Monsieur Albert. May the good God bring you backsafe and sound. Three generations, grandsire, sire, and son, I haveseen, and evil days have come upon them all."

  "Cheer up, my trusty Pierre! Keep a good heart. What a De Lalande hasdone I can do, and by God's help I will yet restore the fortunes of ourhouse. Good-bye!" and I turned my face resolutely towards Paris.

  Once only I looked back, and that was to steal a last glance at the oldhome. On my left lay the pleasant meadows with the silvery stream; onmy right the woods and spires of Vancey, and in the distance thewhite-roofed farm-house, the only remnant of his property which myfather could now call his own.

  "He shall have it all again," I said, half aloud, and then blushed atmy folly. What could I, who was hardly more than a mere boy, do?Nothing, it seemed, and yet I did not altogether despair.

  Once more I turned, and, following the high road, plodded alongsteadily. It was the market-day at Reves, and the little town wasfilled with people, peasants and farmers mostly, though here and therea gaily-dressed gallant swaggered by, while the seat outside theprincipal inn was occupied by half-a-dozen soldiers.

  In the market-place I was stopped by more than one acquaintance, withwhom I laughed and jested for a few moments. A mile or so from thetown I sat down by the wayside and began to eat the food which Pierrehad put in my valise.

  It is not necessary to recount the various stages of my journey.Sometimes with company not of the choicest, but more often alone, Itrudged along, sleeping at night in shed or outhouse, so as to hoard myscanty stock of money. My shabby clothes, and perhaps the sight of mysword, saved me from being robbed, and, indeed, thieves would havegained no rich booty. A sharp sword and a lean purse are not illfriends to travel with on occasion.

  It was afternoon when I reached Paris, and inquired my way to thePalais Royal. The man, a well-to-do shopkeeper, looked curiously at myshabby cloak, but directed me civilly enough.

  "Monsieur is perhaps a friend of the Cardinal?" said he, as I thankedhim.

  "It may be," I answered; "though it is hard to tell as yet."

  "Ah!" he exclaimed. "Monsieur, though young, is prudent, and knows howto keep his own counsel. Monsieur is from the country?"

  "Well," said I, laughing, "that question hardly needs answering."

  The fellow evidently intended to speak again, but thought better of it,and contented himself with staring at me very hard. In the next streeta man stopped me, and started a long rigmarole, but I pushed him asideand went on.

  At the gate of the Palais Royal my courage oozed out at my finger ends,and I walked about for half an hour before mustering sufficientresolution to address one of the sentries posted at the gate.

  "M. Belloc?" he said. "What do you want of him?"

  "I will tell him when I see him."

  "_Merci!_" he exclaimed, "if you don't keep a civil tongue in your headI will clap you in the guard-room."

  Just then an officer coming up asked my business, and I repeated mywish to see M. Belloc.

  "Do you know him?" he inquired.

  "I am here by his own invitation."

  "Well, in that case," looking me up and down as if I had been a strangeanimal, "you are very unfortunate. M. Belloc left town only an hourago."

  "But he will return?"

  "Tha
t is quite likely."

  "Can you tell me when?"

  "If you can wait long enough for an answer I will ask the Cardinal," hereplied with a laugh.

  "It is a pity the Cardinal doesn't keep a school for manners," Iexclaimed, and, turning on my heel, walked away.

  Here was a pretty beginning to my venture! What should I do now? Ihad not once given a thought to Belloc's being away, and without him Iwas completely lost. After wandering about aimlessly for some time Iremembered Raoul Beauchamp, and decided to seek news of him at La Bouled'Or. Without knowing it, I had strayed into the very street where thecurious shopkeeper lived, and there he stood at his door.

  "Monsieur has soon returned," said he.

  "To beg a fresh favour. Will you direct me to the Rue de Roi?"

  "The Rue de Roi?" he exclaimed in a tone of surprise.

  "Yes, I want to find La Boule d'Or."

  At that he raised his eyebrows and, lifting his hands, exclaimed,"Monsieur, then, has not received any encouragement from the Cardinal?"

  "A fig for the Cardinal," I cried irritably. "I am in need of somesupper, and a bed. You don't suppose I want to walk about the streetsall night."

  "But it seems so strange! First it is the Palais Royal, and then LaBoule d'Or. However, it is none of my business. Monsieur knows hisown mind. Jacques," and he called to a boy standing just inside theshop, "show monsieur to the Rue de Roi."

  Jacques was a boy of twelve, lean, hungry-looking, and hard-featured,but as sharp as a weasel. He piloted me through the crowds, turneddown alleys, shot through narrow courts, turning now to right now toleft, till my head began to swim.

  "Has monsieur heard the news?" he asked. "They think at the shop thatI don't know, but I keep my ears open. There will be sport soon. Theyare going to put the Cardinal in an iron cage, and Anne of Austria in aconvent. Then the people will rise and get their own. Oh, oh! it willbe fine sport. No more starving for Jacques then. I shall get apike--Antoine is making them by the score--and push my way into theking's palace. Antoine says we shall have white bread to eat; whitebread, monsieur, but I don't think that can be true."

  All the way he chattered thus, repeating scraps of information he hadpicked up, and inventing a great deal besides. Much of it I understoodno more than if he had spoken in a foreign tongue, but I gathered thatstirring work was expected by the denizens of the low quarters of thecity.

  "Faith," I thought to myself, "my poor mother would have little sleepto-night if she could see me now, wandering through these dens of viceand crime. Old Belloc's path to fortune does not seem easy to find."

  Jacques suddenly brought me back to reality by exclaiming in his shrillvoice, "Here we are, monsieur! This is the Rue de Roi."

  The information rather staggered me, but I thanked him, and drawing outmy slender purse, gave him a piece of silver. He fastened on it withwolfish eagerness and the next instant had disappeared, leaving me tofind La Boule d'Or as best I could.