"Do you hear? The lady has no taste for you," the tormentor cried. "Pig of a Gascon!" And deftly sheathing his dagger, he seized the big coward by the ear, and turning him round, gave him a heavy kick which sent him spinning over a bucket, and down against the wall. There the bully remained, swearing and rubbing himself by turns; while the victor cried boastfully, "Enough of him. If anyone wants to take up his quarrel, Blaise Bure is his man. If not, let us have an end of it. Let someone find stalls for the gentlemen's horses before they catch a chill; and have done with it. As for me," he added, and then he turned to us and removed his hat with an exaggerated flourish, "I am your lordship's servant to command."I thanked him with a heartiness, half-earnest, half-assumed. His cloak was ragged, his trunk hose, which had once been fine enough, were stained, and almost pointless, He swaggered inimitably,and had led-captain written large upon him. But he had done us a service, for Jean had no further trouble about the horses. And besides one has a natural liking for a brave man, and this man was brave beyond question.
"You are from Orleans," he said respectfully enough, but as one asserting a fact, not asking a question.
"Yes," I answered, somewhat astonished, "Did you see us come in?""No, but I looked at your boots, gentlemen," he replied. "White dust, north; red dust, south. Do you see?""Yes, I see," I said, with admiration. "You must have been brought up in a sharp school, M. Bure.""Sharp masters make sharp scholars," he replied, grinning. And that answer I had occasion to remember afterwards.
"You are from Orleans, also?" I asked, as we prepared to go in.
"Yes, from Orleans too, gentlemen. But earlier in the day. With letters--letters of importance!" And bestowing something like a wink of confidence on us, he drew himself up, looked sternly at the stable-folk, patted himself twice on the chest, and finally twirled his moustaches, and smirked at the girl above, who was chewing straws.
I thought it likely enough that we might find it hard to get rid of him. But this was not so. After listening with gratification to our repeated thanks, he bowed with the same grotesque flourish, and marched off as grave as a Spaniard, humming--"Ce petit homme tant joli!
Qui toujours cause et toujours rit, Qui toujours baise sa mignonne, Dieu gard' de mal ce petit homme!"On our going in, the landlord met us politely, but with curiosity, and a simmering of excitement also in his manner.
"From Paris, my lords?" he asked, rubbing his hands and bowing low. "Or from the south?""From the south," I answered. "From Orleans, and hungry and tired, Master Host.""Ah!" he replied, disregarding the latter part of my answer, while his little eyes twinkled with satisfaction. "Then I dare swear, my lords, you have not heard the news?" He halted in the narrow passage, and lifting the candle he carried, scanned our faces closely, as if he wished to learn something about us before he spoke.
"News!" I answered brusquely, being both tired, and as I had told him, hungry. "We have heard none, and the best you can give us will be that our supper is ready to be served."But even this snub did not check his eagerness to tell his news.
"The Admiral de Coligny," he said, breathlessly, "you have not heard what has happened to him?""To the admiral? No, what?" I inquired rapidly. I was interested at last.
For a moment let me digress. The few of my age will remember, and the many younger will have been told, that at this time the Italian queen-mother was the ruling power in France. It was Catharine de' Medici's first object to maintain her influence over Charles the Ninth--her son; who, ricketty, weak, and passionate, was already doomed to an early grave. Her second, to support the royal power by balancing the extreme Catholics against the Huguenots. For the latter purpose she would coquet first with one party, then with the other. At the present moment she had committed herself more deeply than was her wont to the Huguenots. Their leaders, the Admiral Gaspard de Coligny, the King of Navarre, and the Prince of Conde, were supposed to be high in favour, while the chiefs of the other party, the Duke of Guise, and the two Cardinals of his house, the Cardinal of Lorraine and the Cardinal of Guise, were in disgrace; which, as it seemed, even their friend at court, the queen's favourite son, Henry of Anjou, was unable to overcome.
Such was the outward aspect of things in August, 1572, but there were not wanting rumours that already Coligny, taking advantage of the footing given him, had gained an influence over the young king, which threatened Catharine de' Medici herself. The admiral, therefore, to whom the Huguenot half of France had long looked as to its leader, was now the object of the closest interest to all; the Guise faction, hating him--as the alleged assassin of the Duke of Guise--with an intensity which probably was not to be found in the affection of his friends, popular with the latter as he was.
Still, many who were not Huguenots had a regard for him as a great Frenchman and a gallant soldier. We--though we were of the old faith, and the other side--had heard much of him, and much good. The Vicomte had spoken of him always as a great man, a man mistaken, but brave, honest and capable in his error. Therefore it was that when the landlord mentioned him, I forgot even my hunger.
"He was shot, my lords, as he passed through the Rue des Fosses, yesterday," the man declared with bated breath. "It is not known whether he will live or die. Paris is in an uproar, and there are some who fear the worst.""But," I said doubtfully, "who has dared to do this? He had a safe conduct from the king himself."Our host did not answer; shrugging his shoulders instead, he opened the door, and ushered us into the eating-room.
