"The people are trying to force a woman to cry 'Down with Conde.'"

"There's her answer," said he, as in a clear ringing voice Madame Coutance cried aloud, "Pah! You are not good enough for Conde to wipe his boots on!"

There was no disguising the bitterness of the insult. The aristocrat flung it at them, flung it fight in their faces, and laughed as she saw it strike home. A howl of rage greeted the taunt, and, listening to the wild, fierce yell--so different from the noisy bravado of a few minutes before, I shuddered; there was something so stern and purposeful about it.

For fully a minute each man stood in his place, nursing the insult he had received; then, as if by one common impulse, the whole body sprang at the carriage. The uproar waxed furious; the narrow street became a pandemonium; in their savage eagerness the people struggled and fought without order or method.

The occupants of the houses on both sides, joining in the fray, showered missiles on the excited mob; the horses, maddened by the din, kicked and plunged; men shouted and women screamed; while Marie's aunt stood laughing defiantly at the monster her words had conjured up. She had thrown one arm around her niece as if to protect her, and confronted the mob with flashing eyes and scornful brow.

At the first sign of danger we had drawn our swords; now, flinging ourselves headlong into the press, we struck out fiercely to right and left, trying to force a pa.s.sage to the carriage. Raoul cut and thrust in gallant style, and all the time he shouted with the full power of his lungs, "Orleans! Orleans! To me, friends of Orleans." I, taking my cue, yelled for Conde; the Englishman shouted, "Way for the Queen's Guards," while the mob endeavoured to drown our appeals by the ugly menace of "Death to the n.o.bles!"

There was scant leisure in which to look at the ladies, but Madame Coutance did not once alter her position, nor try to hide the sneering smile on her face.

Meanwhile our l.u.s.ty shouts had brought a.s.sistance. Several Black Mantles, fearful lest the riot should spread, fought with us; a couple of gentlemen, responding to the cry of "Conde!" had dashed in behind me, and presently from the street corner came a shout of "Beauchamp!

Beauchamp!"

"Bravo, D'Arcy!" cried Raoul in answer, and we continued the fight with greater zest. After all, the n.o.bles of France were not quite dead to honour; their lives were still at the service of their friends.

Taking the shortest cut through the crowd, John Humphreys and I had reached the carriage door, and now stood with our backs to it, striving desperately to keep the ruffians off; Raoul, aided by several Black Mantles, was working round to the other side.

At first we fought with a certain amount of skill and method, only endeavouring to parry our opponents' strokes, but presently the struggle became grim and deadly. Then the fading daylight rapidly gave place to darkness, which was hardly lessened by the lanterns swung from the windows or by the fitful glow of the glaring pitch in the _falot_ at the corner of the street. The figures of the combatants, now momentarily lost in the black shadows, again springing forward into full relief, were horribly grotesque.

Like ourselves, the people of the gutters were growing desperate, holding their own lives of no account, if only they could seize their prey. Yelling and screaming, they struck out wildly with the oddest of odd weapons, and sprang at us, gnashing their teeth like wild beasts.

[Transcriber's note: ill.u.s.tration missing from book]

Of the Black Mantles who supported us, two went down quickly and were trampled on; Raoul was bleeding in the face, and I had received a nasty cut across the head; but Armand d'Arcy and his friends were breaking through the crowd, while the cries of "Orleans!" and "Conde" redoubled.

Suddenly in the midst of it, my sword snapped against a pike-head, and in another instant I should have been killed but for Madame Coutance, who, with the heavy end of the coachman's whip, struck my a.s.sailant across the forehead, felling him like a log.

Taken by surprise, I turned to glance at my deliverer, when a brawny fellow with fiery red hair, whose weapon had been wrenched from him in the fray, leaped at my throat. By the flame of a lackey's torch I saw he was as ugly a rascal as one would find in Paris. He had a huge mouth, with yellow, wolf-like teeth; his face was scarred in a dozen places; the bridge of his nose had at one time been broken, while the veins of his neck stood out like cords, A pair of tattered breeches and the remnant of a shirt const.i.tuted his fighting costume.

Missing my neck, he caught me round the body just under the arm-pits, but leaving my arms free. For a second or two I was held as in a vice; I thought my ribs would crack under the pressure, and struggled wildly for breath. The main fight went on around us unheeded, as we swayed to and fro, now lurching against the broken carriage, now pushed under the heels of the kicking horses, or stumbling beneath the weapons of the other combatants.

I could no longer distinguish anything clearly, and the shouting sounded in my ears like the thunderous roaring of the ocean. Blood was running from my nostrils; the pain in my chest might have been caused by red-hot knives; it was almost impossible to breathe. The fellow was slowly crushing me, and I was helpless. I should have cried aloud in agony, but could make only a faint gurgling noise. Closer and closer pressed the iron grip; my eyes burned like fire, while my breath came in short, stifling gasps. Still I stood firmly on the ground with my feet wide apart, and, strong as my a.s.sailant was, he had not beaten me completely.

If only I could get a breath of air into my lungs! It was my one chance and the last; but the brawny ruffian, guessing how nearly gone I was, hugged me ever the more tightly, till it seemed that the unequal strife could not last another second. Whether the final result was brought about by my last desperate effort, or was due to chance, I could not tell, but suddenly both of us, locked as we were in each other's arms, fell. I was underneath, but, strangely enough, the pressure relaxed, and my a.s.sailant uttered a deep groan.

Presently the heavy weight lying across my body was removed; I began to breathe, and to wonder what had happened. Very slowly I opened my eyes and gazed in astonishment at the altered scene.

The street was in possession of the Queen's Guards, at whose approach the rioters, acting on instructions from their leaders, had fled, carrying their wounded comrades with them. In the middle of the roadway stood a group of young gallants--all of whom had borne a part in the fray, and several Black Mantles, attending to a slightly injured man! Raoul and Armand d'Arcy were wiping the blood from my face, while the Englishman was forcing some liquid between my teeth.

"How do you feel?" he asked. "Can you stand?"

"Yes, there is nothing much wrong; only I have had a bear's hug, which was by no means pleasant. What has become of my opponent?"

"His friends carried him off. He was insensible; one of the frightened horses kicked him. He was a savage customer."

"You had a narrow escape, my boy," said Raoul, smiling cheerfully; "you were black in the face when we removed the fellow. Now, lean on me, you must pay your respects to the ladies."

"Salute the hero!" laughed D'Arcy. "Bring flowers and wreathe a garland for his brow. Let the conqueror be crowned on the tented field."

"Be still, D'Arcy," said Raoul, "your tongue runs like a woman's," and he conducted me to Marie and her aunt, who, between them, made a pretty speech in my honour. They wished me to enter the carriage, which, though badly damaged, remained fit for use; but to this I would not agree, preferring to walk beside it.

While the coachman put his harness straight, and quietened his frightened horses, the ladies spoke a few kind words to the wounded Black Mantle who had fought for them so bravely. Fortunately he had not been seriously hurt, and was able, with the a.s.sistance of his friends, to walk home.

Suddenly young D'Arcy, who could never remain long in a serious humour, requested us to wait a few minutes, and without staying for answer darted off to his friends, who immediately dispersed.

"What mischief is the young madcap bent on now?" I asked, wonderingly.

"Armand has a brilliant idea," Raoul replied, laughing, "be patient and you will see."

Now that the excitement had cooled, I looked round for the Englishman, but he had vanished, for which, when D'Arcy's hare-brained scheme became plain, I was not altogether sorry.

CHAPTER XIII.

I again Encounter Maubranne.

The Queen's Guards had disappeared; the coachman was mounting to his seat when Armand and his friends returned, flourishing lighted torches, and singing a ridiculous song about the Abbe de Retz.

"A torchlight procession in honour of the bravery of the ladies!"

exclaimed D'Arcy with a merry laugh. "Form your ranks, gentlemen; we will teach the impudent little Abbe to keep his place!"

Holding torches in their left hands and naked swords in their right, the youthful gallants fell in; some in front, others to the rear of the carriage, while Raoul and I, unable to oppose this ludicrous whim, walked on either side. Marie, who did not favour D'Arcy's pleasantry, sat so far back that her face could not be observed, but her aunt entered into the fun, and laughed merrily when the torchbearers, catching some luckless wight, forced him to bow humbly before the carriage and to cry, "_Vivent les Dames!_"

The glare of the torches, the trampling of feet, the songs and laughter of the escort, brought the people out in crowds, which compelled us to proceed at a slow pace. Here and there we heard a growl of "Down with Conde!" but for the most part the worthy citizens enjoyed the spectacle and cheered heartily.

In the Rue Michel we were brought to a halt, and it appeared as if a second and more serious blood-letting would occur. The narrow street was already crowded, and a carriage, preceded by half-a-dozen lackeys bearing torches, came towards us. Casting a furtive glance at Raoul, I discovered him looking anxiously at me; it was obvious to us both that one party must turn back, but, unfortunately for any peaceful intentions we might have had, young D'Arcy who led the van, showed no sign of yielding.

"Make room there!" he shouted imperiously, as if he were Conde himself, and the people, cowed by our display of strength, parted to right and left, leaving a clear pa.s.sage.

This gave us a clearer view of the other carriage, and I noticed with dismay that it must belong to some important personage. Behind rode a number of cavaliers richly dressed, and what was more to the purpose, well armed. Suddenly a mocking cry from Armand informed us who it was that paraded the streets thus numerously attended.

"Bring your torches nearer, gentlemen, that we may observe the red hat of our little friend the better!" he exclaimed.

A burst of mocking laughter greeted this speech, as every one knew how De Retz had been tricked by Mazarin, and how furious he was at having failed to obtain a Cardinal's hat. Even the bystanders, most of whom were the Abbe's friends, joined in the laugh, for your true Parisian loves nothing so much as ridicule.

"Poor little man," cried one of the gallants, with a.s.sumed sympathy, "it is difficult for him to hit on the exact shade to suit his beauty best!"

Now, as De Retz was one of the ugliest men in France, this pleasantry was not likely to be well received, and I ran to the front with the idea of preserving peace. At the same time the Abbe, followed by my cousin, left the carriage, and the cavaliers pressed up from behind.

Instead of retreating, Armand stood his ground firmly, and continued waving his lighted torch in the face of the Abbe, crying, "Make way for His Eminence! The Cardinal wishes to visit the ladies his mob tried to murder!"

"Eh? What's that? Ladies? Murder? What do you mean?" cried the Abbe, affecting not to notice the ridicule.

"Permit me to give your gentlemen the word," interposed Henri, "and these popinjays shall soon be cleared from your path."