It was the case now--as it had often been!--the king had seen some threescore letters marked with the senders' names or initials; and there was one he had not seen.

He seemed a little weary this morning--nay, had he not been so great a king, as well as a man who had almost every impulse under control, it would almost have appeared that he was a little irritated at the contents of the first portfolio, that one inscribed "Letters opened at the Post." "For," he continued, after descanting on the art of letter-writing which his subjects appeared to have lost, "the responsibility given to the masters of our royal post seems to me, my good Louvois, to be greater than their minds--provincial in most cases--appear able to sustain. They mark letters from the local seigneurs as worthy of perusal by us in Paris ere being forwarded to their destination, which, in truth, are barren of interest. To wit,"

he went on, with that delicate irony for which he was noted, "we have opened fifty-five letters, and in not one of them is there the slightest hint of even murmuring against our royal authority, no suggestion of resisting our, or the seigniorial, imposts, not even the faintest suggestion of an attack against our royal person. They are harmless, and consequently wearisome."

"I regret," replied Louvois, softening his raucous voice to the tones absolutely necessary when addressing Louis, "that your Majesty finds the system so barren of interest. But, I may with all deference suggest, perhaps, that it has one gratifying result. All these letters are from the most important persons among your Majesty's subjects, yet there is, as your Majesty observes, no one word hostile to your rule or sacred person. The system--my system--testifies at least to that agreeable fact."

"Yes," replied the king, in the calm, unruffled voice, "it testifies to that. You are right. What else is there to do?"

"But little, your Majesty. Yet, with your permission, something. May I also suggest that Monsieur Pajot and the Vicomte de Rouillier may retire?"

Louis signified by a bend of his head that they might do so, whereon the two "farmers," after profound obeisances, left the room, and the king and his minister again applied themselves to the work before them.

It was of a multifarious nature, since it dealt with the contents of each of the portfolios, exclusive of the first--the one whose contents had been so barren of interest to the king, and which contents would never now arrive at their destination in spite of his Majesty's remark about their being forwarded on. For, since the seals and thread had necessarily to be broken ere those contents could be perused, it would be impossible to send them on to those to whom they were addressed.

But what became of them instead, probably Louvois only knew. It may be that they were put away carefully, to be brought out years afterward, if needed, and when their present harmless contents might, in the movement of time, have altered their nature and have become, if not d.a.m.ning, at least compromising.

Taking up the second portfolio, marked "Conduct of Princes and Lords,"

Louvois extracted one paper and read out briefly: "The young Count de Quince has eloped with Mademoiselle le Brun, daughter of a rich mercer in Guise. Her brother, attempting to stop the carriage in which they were setting out for Paris, was slain by the count's body-servant."

After reading which, Louvois looked up at his master.

"Write," said Louis in reply, "that De Quince is not to enter Paris.

He is to be arrested at the gate and taken to the Bastille. There he will be judged. Proceed."

Selecting from the third portfolio two papers, Louvois went on: "The Bishop of Beauvais referred in a sermon, delivered three weeks ago, to the birth of Madame de Maintenon in the prison of Niort, and pointed a moral as to how----"

"One may rise by good works," interrupted the king. "The bishop is indiscreet, but truthful. Let it pa.s.s. Proceed."

"The Grand Prior of Chavagnac entertains daily in Paris many courtesans at his table."

"Write that he retires at once to his priory. If he refuses, arrest him and bring him before me. Above all, the Church must be kept pure.

Continue."

The work was done, however, since Louvois informed the king that the contents of the fourth and fifth portfolios scarcely needed his attention. Yet, since he knew that Louis would not be satisfied without himself seeing the reports which they contained, he rose, and, bringing each in its turn to the king, placed it before him.

"So," his Majesty said, when he had glanced at them, "our morning's work is done and easily done. The reports are meagre, and, in the latter cases, deal with persons better left to the magistrates. Now,"

as a clock above the mantelpiece struck eleven, "I am expected," and he rose from the table as though to depart.

"There are a few papers requiring your Majesty's signature," the minister said, "though none of great importance. Will your Majesty please to sign?"

"Let me see them," and, as before, the papers were placed before the king for him to read ere affixing his signature.

He glanced at each ere he did so, but, since he already knew their purport, made no remark as he signed, until, at last, he came to one addressed to "Monsieur Georges St. Georges, Lieutenant des Chevaux-Legers de Nivernois, en garnison a Pontarlier," when he stopped and began to read it all through; while Louvois, pretending to be busy at some other papers, watched him stealthily from under his eyebrows.

"Georges St. Georges," he said at last--"Georges St. Georges--I recall the name and that I ordered this letter to be prepared last week.

Repeat the circ.u.mstances."

"Your Majesty will remember that this gentleman's commission was obtained from you by the late Duc de Vannes, and that you ordered me to watch his career, and, when the time came, to recommend him to you for promotion, should he have proved himself worthy of it."

"I remember, although it was some time ago. And also that a month or so ago you told me the time had come for such promotion, and that, therefore, he should be ordered to come to Paris. But, my good Louvois, you have here given orders to Monsieur St. Georges to particularly quarter himself upon the Bishop of Lodeve, now at Dijon, upon the Marquise de Roquemaure at Troyes, and, at Melun, upon Monsieur de Riverac. I remember no instructions of that nature, nor do I see any necessity for them. Why should not this officer stay at any inn? Others have had to do so. Why not he?"

"Again," replied Louvois, once more glancing furtively at his master, "I have to remind your Majesty that, by issuing these orders to Monsieur St. Georges, we are utilizing him as a special courier on behalf of your Majesty, and that he is one who can be trusted--since he has no opportunity of betraying us. We desire to know from Phelypeaux--the bishop--whether the riots in Languedoc are to be feared or not; whether, indeed, it is necessary quietly to put into that neighbourhood any more regiments. St. Georges will bring the word, 'Yes,' or 'No.' Far better that, your Majesty, than any letter.

Also we desire to know whether in Champagne, and especially in Troyes, the capital of the department, the Flemings from the north and the Lorrainers from the east are still endeavouring to stir them to revolt. And who better than the Marquise de Roquemaure to send us the word, the one word, 'Yes' or 'No'? A fervent loyalist, your Majesty, and devoted to your royal interests."

"Ay," the king said, "a fervent loyalist." Then, after musing a moment, he said: "'Twas strange she never married De Vannes; all thought she loved him in those far-off days. And, _ciel!_ Hortense de Foy was handsome enough to suit any man's taste. I see her now as she was then, beautiful as the morning. Why, I wonder, did she marry De Vannes's cousin and friend, Roquemaure, instead of him?"

Louvois shrugged his shoulders--though as respectfully as a man must perform such an action before a superior--then he said with a slight and also respectful smile, the smile of the dependent:

"Your Majesty's royal ancestor said,'_Souvent femme varie_.' That may explain why Mademoiselle de Foy married one man, when the world, when even your Majesty," with subtle flattery, "thought she loved another."

"My ancestor knew what he was talking about when he discussed womankind," Louis remarked. "Well, perhaps his saying explains the caprices of Hortense. I have not seen her for years. She rests ever in her provincial manoir. It may be she has changed much--her beauty vanished."

"If so, your Majesty, at least she has transmitted it to her daughter.

I have seen Mademoiselle de Roquemaure, and she is beautiful as ever her mother could have been. She was the guest of Madame de Chevreuse last summer."

"I would I had seen her, too. She would have recalled Hortense de Foy as she was in her youth; perhaps," with what seemed to the wily minister something like a sigh, "my own youth, too." Then changing his tone back to his ordinary one, he asked: "There is a son, the present Marquis de Roquemaure; why does he so rarely come to court?"

"He thinks, your Majesty, of but two things: first, the inheritance of the Duc de Vannes, of which, through his father, he is the heir on arriving at his thirtieth year; and, secondly, of his horses and hounds. But when he has attained his majority and has the duke's fortune, he proposes to present himself to your Majesty. And----"

The speaker was interrupted by a scratching at the door, which brought a smile to both their faces, while Louis, starting up from his chair, exclaimed:

"_Ciel!_ It is the half hour, and Malice is hungry"; and, thrusting his hand into the pocket of his velvet coat, he produced come crumbs of cake, which he presented to a little spaniel that rushed in and leaped about him as Louvois opened the door.[4] Then, turning to the minister, he said:

"Write to the Marquis de Roquemaure that the king desires his company at court for the _fetes_ of the Epiphany. Also write that he desires that Mademoiselle de Roquemaure shall accompany her brother, as the king's guests. I would see this beautiful offshoot of so fair a woman as her mother was," and, bending his head, he advanced toward the door, followed by Malice. But as he was about to leave the room, Louvois observed with great humility that "doubtless his Majesty had omitted, forgotten in his royal recollections of other days, that the letter to Monsieur St. Georges, the trustworthy officer who would bring the word from the Bishop of Lodeve, and from the Marquise de Roquemaure, was still unsigned."

[Footnote 4: "Le roi donner a manger a ses chiens toujours soi-meme."--_La Fare, St. Simon, and others._]

"Ah! Monsieur St. Georges," exclaimed the king; and taking up the pen he wrote his name at the bottom of the last sheet, leaving room only for Louvois to undersign it. Then, with many bows from the minister and amid the salutes of the two sentinels outside in the corridor, he pa.s.sed to Madame de Maintenon's rooms, accompanied by the little spaniel.

Left alone by himself, Louvois worked at his papers for two hours unceasingly, reading some that were already written, signing and undersigning others--among the latter the one to the Lieutenant St.

Georges--and destroying some. Also, he directed much correspondence with the marshals and generals commanding in various parts of France--working at this with two secretaries whom he summoned. But at last all his voluminous despatches were finished, closed up, and directed to the different persons for whom they were intended, some to go by the king's couriers and some by the royal post. And among all the correspondence which went forth that night from the minister were two letters, one of which was addressed to the officer commanding the Regiment de Nivernois at Pontarlier, and containing those instructions for St. Georges which bade him repair forthwith to Paris. The other was directed to the Marquis de Roquemaure, at his manoir near Troyes, and was as follows:

"He sets out for Paris the last day of the year or the first of the new one. He may take his child with him. He is ordered to rest at Phelypeaux's, at madame your mother's, and at De Riverac's."

That was all, the letter containing neither date nor signature.

CHAPTER X.

MADAME LA MARQUISE.

"A manoir!" exclaimed St. Georges, as he halted his horse in front of the place. "More like a fort! _Mon Dieu!_ Madame is well installed."

She was, indeed, judging by the building which now rose before him from the side of the road along which he had come. Unapproached by any path, unsurrounded by any out-towers or fortalices, the Manoir of Roquemaure raised a great stone wall or rampart to the road; a wall almost blank on this side of windows with the exception of some arrow-slits, and at either end of it--one looking south, the other north--two tourelles, penetrated also with _oillets_ at regular distances from each other; and by each tourelle, on its outer side, a small, high door of antique, Francois Premier style, or even older, through which a mounted man might ride. Doors shut fast on this wintry night, and with no sign of life at either doorways or loopholes, except in so far as a great lantern, swinging on a rope above one of the former and emitting its dull rays, might be said to testify to the place being inhabited.

"More like a fort!" again exclaimed St. Georges as he regarded the almost blank wall, "far more; yet, unless I am spied on and watched from within, not over-well guarded, though I presume my lady has no foes to guard against. Well, here's for it," and advancing his horse to the doorway he reached out his hand, took the horn that hung on a chain close by, and sounded some notes. Then, while waiting for an answer to his summons, he backed his horse into the middle of the road which bulged out semicircularly in front of the long building, and observed it carefully. "A grim, hard place," he said to himself, regarding it under the rays of the young moon that was now stronger and clearer than when it had shed its feeble rays over the hamlet of Aignay-le-Duc, "and my enemy's stronghold, or I am mistaken. A place in which a man when once entrapped might find it difficult to fight his way out of. No exit but those doors at either side--a cat could hardly slip through the arrow-slits!--and all along beyond either side a wide moat, with palisades on the inner bank. Humph! Well, let us see. If my friend in the burganet, or volant-piece, or whatever he terms his rusty headdress, is here, the fight will be inside. So, so!

May the end of it be as the other was! I am at least forearmed."