"Monsieur!"

"Then serve it here, and set the table for four. Mayhap the Doctor Johannes Caballus may join us. Let me see what there is for dinner.

Ah! three sucking-pigs, and a fourth to follow in quince sauce, six capons, twelve pigeons, twelve quails, four legs of mutton _en brune pate_, twelve sweetbreads, four tongues, four veal----"

But the landlord had fled, and Diane was staring with wide-open eyes, whilst I confess I thought that we had a harmless lunatic before us.

"Perhaps, monsieur, we have Gargantua dining with us?"

"That would be but a flea-bite to him. But there is the Doctor Caballus." And pushing aside the roses he pointed before him; all we could see was a sleek mule sunning itself in a patch of green.

"There is only a mule there," said Diane.

"True; but he is a Doctor of Laws of the University of Orange. I must tell you that the estimable beast is the property of Doctor Rabelais, who permits me to use him, being, as I said, a friend of friends to me.

It so happened that the University of Orange conferred degrees on payment of fees without seeing or testing the candidate. My friend Rabelais, who loves a merry jest, sent them the money for a Doctor's degree for one Johannes Caballus, the same being his mule. And in due course the parchment came; and so our friend there is as much a Doctor of Laws as my lords the Bishops of Seez or Montpelier. But here comes our dinner."

I need not say that the dinner was not the feast for giants that was ordered; but, though it was plentiful, all that our old friend could eat was a little dish of peas fried in fat, which he washed down with thin wine and water. He kept all the talk to himself, delighting us with a thousand merry quibbles and jests, until, finally, he called for his mule, saying that he must depart.

"Mademoiselle," he said as he wished us farewell, "you are going on a long journey, and I on a much longer, but I know that wherever you are there will be the house of Thelema." And as I helped him to pull his domino over his shoulders he whispered in my ear: "_Beati qui in domino moriuntur_."

Then, slowly and painfully mounting his mule, and chuckling at his grim jest, he ambled away, the landlord bowing respectfully to him as he pa.s.sed.

"Who is he?" asked Diane.

"That, mademoiselle," said our host, "is the Doctor Rabelais, whose name is honoured as that of the King here. He has a small estate called La Deviniere hard by, and comes here at times for his health.

He returns to Paris to-morrow; but he will never come back--that I know." And he shook his head sorrowfully.

We never met again, for Rabelais died a month later; but in my library at Orrain, which now contains close upon a hundred volumes, I have a copy of his works bound in red velvet, and clasped with silver. Nor ever do I touch it without thinking of that rose-clad summer-house in the old garden in Touraine.

CHAPTER XIX

THE WOMAN IN BLACK AND WHITE

A few days later we saw the cliffs of Chateaudon, from whose heights the stronghold of Dunois looks down upon the town crouching beneath.

On arrival we found a lodging in the little square below the castle, and here I thought it necessary to call a halt for a couple of days.

Thus far our journey to Paris had been free from serious misadventure; but I was full of fears, for I knew not what folly De Ganache might commit in his madness, and the evil phantom of Simon was ever grinning over my shoulder. I, therefore, judged it prudent to write to Le Brusquet, begging him to inform the Queen how far I had come; and, as difficulties might arise in regard to my entry into Paris, I suggested that mademoiselle should be met by an escort either at Etampes or Montlhery; and, commending myself to his friendship, begged the favour of his losing no time in aiding me in this matter. This letter I entrusted to Capus, bidding him meet me with the answer at Etampes, where he would find me at the Toison d'Or.

As soon as mademoiselle, chiefly upon whose account I had halted, was sufficiently rested to continue the journey we started once more, and quitting the vine country entered the smiling Beauce. It was towards the end of June, and our way led through the granary of France, with its long green reaches of meadow and rich cornland. Here, under the clear blue of the sky, and in an air like crystal, stretched endless fields of corn, swaying gently in the gentle breeze, and chequered with vivid patches of blue cornflower and red poppy. After the seared plains of Poitou the freshness, the peace, and the plenty around us struck us in convincing contrast, nor could I help thinking what a little it would take to make the sad Poitevin plain smile like this.

We travelled by easy stages, reaching Etampes about the sixth day, and here, on arrival at the Toison d'Or, I was disappointed to get no news of Capus. There was nothing for it but to wait, and a few days pa.s.sed pleasantly enough in the curious old town. One incident that occurred is, perhaps, worthy of notice. Almost opposite our inn was a forbidding-looking house, without arms or escutcheon of any kind upon the gate. To all appearance it was uninhabited, but from the balcony of the inn mademoiselle and I observed a lady dressed in black who daily paced for an hour or so on the terrace overlooking the garden of the house. We could not distinguish her features, for she was ever closely veiled, but her att.i.tude and mien marked the deepest dejection.

To the idle all things are of interest, and our curiosity was excited; so on one occasion, as the lady paced mournfully on the terrace, mademoiselle asked the landlord who she was.

"That, mademoiselle, is the d.u.c.h.ess herself."

"The d.u.c.h.ess!"

"Yes, mademoiselle; the d.u.c.h.ess d'Etampes. She has lived here in the strictest seclusion ever since the late King's death. She receives no one, and yet for miles around she is blessed for her charity. 'Tis said, however," and he dropped his voice, "that she is a Christaudin; but of this I know nothing."

And so this sad, dark-robed spectre was the once brilliant and beautiful De h.e.l.ly! I went back in my mind to the gay days when she reigned as queen. It was not so long ago, and I could recall all that throng of syrens. There was Canaples, star of the morning; the lovely St. Pol, star of the evening; Rieux, Tallard, Lestrange; but one only of that galaxy was left, the loveliest and the worst--Diane, whom men called the crescent moon. For her I wondered what fate was in store.

The next day, towards sunset, mademoiselle and I were once again upon the balcony of the inn, when I saw a horseman trotting past the parvis of St. Martin. I was sure it was Capus, and my doubts were soon at rest, for as he rounded the corner and came up the Rue St. Jacques I saw it was he, and signalled to him. He lifted his arm in the air in answer to my signal, and spurring his beast drew up a minute or so after at the door of the inn.

"What news, Capus?" I called out; and he waved a letter that he held in his hand. Making an excuse to mademoiselle I ran down to meet him, and soon had Le Brusquet's letter in my hands. He had done as I asked, and we were to be met at Longpont, near Montlhery; and in a postscript he added that Olden Hoorn had sent him the two hundred crowns I had asked for from Poitiers--a piece of news not without interest to me. When I had finished Capus said:

"I came with the escort, monsieur, as far as Montlhery. It is commanded by the Sieur de Lorgnac. There are ten lances and two court ladies and a dozen or so of sumpter horses--a brave show. They all lie at the priory at Longpont."

"Thanks, Capus. Go now and rest." And as the man went I stood for a little looking after him, and then went back to the balcony, the letter in my hand. As I came up mademoiselle called out to me:

"See!" she cried, "there is the new moon; turn over the money in your pocket, and wish."

I laughed. "There is little enough to turn, mademoiselle; but for my wish--it is all good fortune and happiness to you."

"Now you will bring me ill-luck for having spoken your wish aloud. Oh, monsieur!"

"Heaven forbid! But have you wished, may I ask?" She turned away with a little sigh, and looked out into the violet evening, where the slender sickle of the moon shone silver bright. Down below the twilight darkled in the streets. Figures moved like shadows, and now and again a light flashed out. Tall and slight, she stood out against the darkening sky, her face half averted from me, and I knew not what it was, but an almost irresistible impulse came on me to put my fortune to the touch. But I thought of De Ganache. She was his promised wife.

I thought of what I had to offer, and this and that gave me strength, and so I held back.

"Mademoiselle," I said with an effort, "this is our last evening, and my wardship ends to-morrow."

"To-morrow?"

"Yes; the Queen has sent an escort to meet you at Longpont."

"She is most kind!"

"And as I may not have the chance of speaking to you alone again----"

"Why that?" she interrupted quickly. "You will be in Paris. You will be at the Court. I counted upon having at least one friend there."

"You will have more than one friend there, mademoiselle, and more than one enemy, I fear; but I was about to say that I leave Paris the day after I reach there for Italy."

"For Italy?"

"Yes; I follow M. de Montluc there. You see, old as I am, I have to begin life over again, and there is many a fair fortune yet waiting to be sliced out of the Romagna."

She said never a word, and I continued: "It will be long ere I see France again--perhaps never; and so, mademoiselle, I once more wish you all that is good, and I offer my congratulations--I have not ventured to do so before."

She spoke now. "Monsieur, I thank you! I will not pretend not to understand your last words; but there are some good wishes that may mean misfortune, and it grows late. Good-night!"

She slid by me, and was gone almost before I realised it.

It was just past the dawn the next morning when we left Etampes. There were but five leagues or so to cover ere we reached Montlhery, and for almost the whole way we could see before us the castle that crowned the hill. At the ford of the Orge we saw a small group of hors.e.m.e.n, their arms shining in the sunlight.

"'Tis the escort," said Capus, and quickening our pace we were soon with them, and I handed over my charge to De Lorgnac.