The Snowball (3 page)

Saying these words with the charm which never failed him, and in his
time won to his side more foes than his sword ever conquered, the King
drew me into my room, where I found De Vic, Vitry, Roquelaure, and the
rest. They all laughed heartily at my surprise, nor was Maignan, who
had a pretty fancy, and was the author, it will be remembered, of that
whimsical procession to Rosny after the battle of Ivry, which I have
elsewhere described, far behind them; the rascal knowing well that the
king's presence covered all, and that in my gratification at the honor
done me I should be certain to overlook his impertinence.

Perceiving that this impromptu visit had no other object than to
divert Henry—though he was kind enough to say that he felt uneasy
when he did not see me often—I begged to know if he would honor me by
staying to sup; but this he would not do, though he consented to drink
a cup of my Arbois wine, and praised it highly. I thought I saw by and
by that he was willing to be alone with me; and as I had every reason
to desire this myself, I made an opportunity. Sending for Arnaud and
some of my gentlemen, I committed my other guests to their care, and
led the King into my closet, where, after requesting his leave to
speak on business, I proceeded to unfold to him the adventure of the
snowball, with all the particulars which I have here set down.

He listened very attentively, drumming on the table with his fingers;
nor did he move or speak when I had done but still continued in the
same attitude of deep thought. At last: "Grand-master," he said,
touching with his hand the mark of the wound which still remained on
his lip, "how long is it since Chalet's attempt—when I got this?"

"Seven years last Christmas, Sire," I answered.

"And Barrière's?"

"That was the year before. Avenious' plot was that year too."

"And the Italian, from Milan, of whom the Capuchin Honorio warned us?"

"That was two years ago, Sire."

"And how many more attempts have there been against my person?" he
went on, much moved. Then falling into a tone of extreme sadness, he
continued, "Rosny, my friend, they must succeed at last. No man can
fight against his fate. The end is sure, notwithstanding all your
fidelity and vigilance, and the love you bear me, for which I love you
too. But Nicholas? Nicholas? Yet he has been careless and distraught
of late. I have noticed it; and a month back I refused to give him an
appointment, of which he wished to have the sale."

I did not dare to speak, and for a time Henry, too, remained silent.
At length he rose with an air of resolution.

"We will clear this matter up within the hour!" he said firmly. "I
will send my people back to the Louvre, and do you, Grand-master,
order half-a-dozen Swiss to be ready to conduct us to this woman's
house. When we have heard her we shall know what to do."

I tried my utmost to dissuade him, pleading that his presence could
not be necessary, and might prove a hindrance; besides exposing his
person to a certain amount of risk. But he would not listen. When I
saw, therefore, that his mind was made up to go, and that as his
spirits rose he was inclined to welcome this little expedition as a
relief from the
ennui
which at times troubled him, I reluctantly
withdrew my opposition and gave the necessary orders. The King
dismissed his suite with a few kind words, and in a very short space
we were on our way, under cover of darkness, to the secretary's house.

He lived at this time in a court off the Rue St. Jacques, not far from
the church of that name; and the house being remote from the eyes and
observations of the street, seemed not unfit for secret and desperate
uses.

Although we found lights shining behind several of the barred windows,
the wintry night, the darkness of the court, and perhaps the errand on
which we came, imparted so gloomy an aspect to the place that the King
hitched his sword forward, while I begged him to permit the Swiss who
accompanied us to go on with us. This, however, he would not allow,
and accordingly they were left at the entrance to the court with
orders to follow at a given signal.

On the steps, the King, who, to disguise himself the better, had
borrowed one of my cloaks, stumbled and almost fell. This threw him
into a fit of laughter; for no sooner was he engaged in an adventure
which promised to be dangerous than his spirits invariably rose to
such a degree as to make him the most charming companion in peril man
ever had. He was still shaking, and pulling me to and fro in one of
those boyish frolics which sometimes swayed him, when a sudden outcry
inside the house startled us into sobriety, and reminded us all too
soon of the business which brought us thither.

Wondering what it might mean, I was about to rap on the door with my
hilt when the King put me aside, and, by a happy instinct, tried the
latch. The door yielded to his hands, and, slowly opening, gave us
admittance.

We found ourselves in a gloomy hall, ill-lit, and hung with patched
arras. In one corner stood a group of servants. Of these some looked
scared and some amused, but all were so much taken up with the
movements of a harsh-faced woman, who was pacing the opposite side of
the hall, that they did not heed our entrance. A momentary glance at
this strange state of things showed me that the woman was Madame
Nicholas; but I was still at a loss to guess what she was doing or
what was happening in the house.

I stood a moment, but finding she still took no notice of us, I
beckoned to one of the servants, and bade him tell his mistress a
gentleman would speak with her. The man went with the message; but she
sent him off with a flea in his ear, and screamed at him so violently
that for a moment I thought she was mad. Then it appeared that the
object of her attention was a door at the side of the hall; for,
stopping suddenly in her walk, she went up to it, and struck it
passionately with her hands.

"Come out!" she cried. "Come out, you villain!"

Restraining the King, I went forward myself, and, saluting her
politely, begged a word with her apart, thinking she would recognize
me.

Her answer, however, showed that she did not. "No!" she cried, waving
me off, in the utmost excitement. "No; you will not get me away—I
know you. You are as bad one as the other." Then turning again to the
door, she continued, "Come out! Do you hear! Come out! I'll have no
more of your intrigues and your Hallots!"

I pricked up my ears at the name "But, Madame," I said, "one moment."

"Begone!" she retorted, turning on me so wrathfully that I fairly
recoiled before her. "I shall stay here till I drop; but I will have
him out and expose him. There shall be an end of his precious plots
and his Hallots if I have to go to the King!"

Words so curiously
à propos
could not but recall to my mind the
confusion into which my mention of Du Hallot had thrown the secretary
earlier in the day. And since they seemed also to be consistent with
the warning conveyed to me, and indeed to explain it, they should have
corroborated my worst suspicions. But a sense of something unreal and
fantastic, with which I could not grapple, continued to puzzle me in
the presence of this angry woman; and it was with no great assurance
that I said, "Do I understand then, Madame, that M. du Hallot is in
that room?"

"M. du Hallot?" she replied, in a tone that was almost a scream. "No;
but he would be if he had taken the hint I sent him! He would be! I
will have no more secrecy, however, and no more plots. I have suffered
enough already, and now Madame shall suffer if she has not forgotten
how to blush. Are you coming out there?" she continued, once more
applying herself to the door, her face inflamed with passion. "I shall
stay! Oh, I shall stay, I assure you. Until morning if necessary!"

"But, Madame," I said, beginning to see daylight, and finding words
with difficulty—for I already heard in fancy the King's laughter and
could conjure up the endless quips and cranks with which he would
pursue me—"your warning did not perhaps reach M. du Hallot!"

"It reached his coach, at any rate," the scold retorted. "Another time
I will have no half-measures. But as for that," she continued, turning
on me suddenly with her arms akimbo, and the fiercest of airs, "I
would like to know what business it is of yours, Monsieur, whether it
reached him or not! I know you—you are in league with my husband! You
are here to shelter him, and this Madame du Hallot! But—"

At that moment, however, the door at last opened; and M. Nicholas,
wearing an aspect so meek and crestfallen that I hardly knew him, came
out. He was followed by a young woman plainly dressed, and looking
almost as much frightened as himself; in whom I had no difficulty in
recognizing Felix's wife.

"Why!" Madame Nicholas cried, her face falling. "This is not—who is
this? Who—" with increased vehemence—"is this baggage, I would like
to know?"

"My dear," the secretary protested earnestly, spreading out his
hands—fortunately he had eyes only for his wife, and did not see
us—"this is one of your ridiculous mistakes! It is, I assure you.
This is the wife of a clerk whom I dismissed to-day, and she has been
with me begging me to reinstate her husband. That is all. That is all,
my dear. You have made this—"

I heard no more, for, taking advantage of the obscurity of the hall,
and the preoccupation of the couple, I made hurriedly for the door,
and passing out into the darkness, found myself at once in the embrace
of the King, who, seizing me round the neck, laughed on my shoulder
till he cried, continually adjuring me to laugh also, and ejaculating
between the paroxysms, "Poor Du Hallot! Poor Du Hallot!" with many
things of the same nature, which any one acquainted with court life
may supply for himself.

I confess I did not on my part find it so easy to laugh: partly
because I am not of so gay a disposition as that great prince, and
partly because I cannot always see the ludicrous side of events in
which I myself take part. But on the King at last assuring me that he
would not betray the secret even to La Varenne, I took comfort and
gradually reconciled myself to an episode which, unlike the more
serious events it now becomes my duty to relate, had only one result,
and that unimportant; I mean the introduction to my service of the
clerk Felix, who, proving worthy of confidence, remained with me after
the lamentable death of the King my master, and is to-day one of those
to whom I entrust the preparation of these Memoirs.