a week later, or, to be exact, six days, and the troop of grey musketeers, commanded by captain the vicomte de pontgibaud—which was the one in which i rode as cornet—was making its way pleasantly enough along the great southern road that runs down from paris to toulouse. indeed, we were very near that city now, and expected to be in it by the time that the wintry evening had fallen. in it, and safely housed for the night, not forgetting that the suppers of southern france are most excellent and comforting meals, and that the lunel and roussillon are equally suited to the palate of a soldier, even though that soldier be but twenty years old; as i was in those days, now, alas! long since vanished.
but, ere i go on with what i have to tell, perhaps you would care to hear in a few words how i, adrian trent, an englishman, am riding as cornette or porte drapeau in a corps d'élite of our old hereditary enemies, the french. well, this is how it was. the trents have ever been royalists, by which i mean that they and i, and all of our thinking, were followers of the house of stuart. now, you who read this may be one of those—or your father may have been one of those—who invited the elector of hanover to come over and ascend the english throne, or you may be what my family and i are at the present moment, jacobites. never mind for that, however. you can keep your principles and we will keep ours, and need not quarrel about them. suffice it, therefore, if i say that our principles have led us to quit england and to take up our abode in france. and if ever king james iii. sits on—however, no matter for that either; it concerns not this narrative.
my father was attached to the court of this king, who was just then in temporary residence in rome—though, also, he sojourned some time in spain—but, ere he followed his sovereign's errant fortunes, he obtained for me my guidon in the musketeers, which service is most agreeable to me, who, from a boy, had sworn that i would be a soldier or nothing; while, since i cannot be an english one, i must, perforce, be in the service of france. and, as i trust that never more will france and england be flying at each other's throats, i do hope that i may long wear the uniform of the regiment. if not—but of that, too, we will not speak.
to get on with what i have to tell, we rode into toulouse just as the winter day was coming to an end, and a brave show we made, i can assure you, as we drew up in the great courtyard of the old "taverne du midi," a place that had been the leading hostelry ever since the dark ages. for in that tavern, pilgrims, knights on their road to rome and even the holy land, men of different armies, wandering minstrels and troubadours, had all been accustomed to repose; even beggars and monks (who paid for nothing) could be here accommodated, if they chose to lie down in the straw amongst the horses and sing a good song in return for their supper.
and i do protest that, on this cold december night, when the icicles were hanging a foot long from the eaves, and bitter blasts were blowing all around the city—the north-east winds coming from away over the lower alps of savoy—you might have thought that you were back again in those days, if you looked around the great salle-à-manger of the tavern. for in that vast room was gathered together a company which comprised as many different kinds of people as any company could have consisted of when met together in it in bygone ages. first, there was the nobleman who, because he was one, had had erected round his corner a great screen of arras by his domestics; such things being always carried in france by persons of much distinction, since they could neither endure to be seen by the commoner orders, nor, if they had private rooms, could they endure to look upon the bare whitewashed walls of the rooms, wherefore the arras was in that case hung on those walls. this great man we did not set eyes on, he being enshrouded in his haughty seclusion, but there was plenty else to be observed. even now, in these modern days of which i write, there were monks, travellers, a fantoccini troupe, some other soldiers besides ourselves, they being of the regiment of perche, the intendant of the solitary lord, and ourselves. our troopers alone numbered twenty, they having a table to themselves; while we, the officers, viz., the captain (de pontgibaud), the lieutenant (whose name was camier), and i (the cornet), had also a table to ourselves.
yet, too, there was one other, and, if only from her quaint garb, a very conspicuous person. this was a girl—and a mighty well-favoured girl too—dark, with her hair tucked up all about her head; with superb full eyes, and with a colour rich and brilliant as that of the provence rose. she made good use of those eyes, i can tell you, and seemed nothing loth to let them encounter the glance of every one else in the room. for the rest, she was a sort of wandering singer and juggler, clad in a short spangled robe, carrying a tambour de basque in her hand, while by her side hung a coarse canvas bag, in which, as we soon saw, she had about a dozen of conjuring balls.
"who is that?" asked de pontgibaud of the server, as he came near our table bearing in his hand a succulent rag?ut, which was one of our courses—"who and what? a traveller, or a girl belonging to toulouse?"
"oh!" said the man, with the true southern shrug of his shoulders, "that!—elle! she is a wandering singer, a girl called damaris. on her road farther south. pray heaven she steals nothing. she is as like to if she has the chance. a purse or even a spoon, i'll wager. if i were the master she should not be here. yet, she amuses the company. sings love ballads and such things, and juggles with those balls. ha! giglot," he exclaimed, seeing the girl jump off the table she had been sitting on, talking to a bagman, and come towards us, "away. the gentlemen of the mousquetaires require not your company."
"ay, but they do though," the girl called damaris said, as she drew close to where we sat. "soldiers like amusement, and i can amuse them. pretty gentlemen," she went on, "would you like a love song made in touraine, or to see a trick or two? or i have a snake in a box that can do quaint things. shall i go fetch it—it will dance if i pipe——"
"to confusion with your snake!" exclaimed the waiting man, "we want no snakes here. snakes, indeed——!"
"well, then, a love song. this pretty boy," and here she was forward enough to fix her eyes most boldly on me, "looks as if he would like a love song. how blue his eyes are!"
alas! they are somewhat dim and old now, but then, because i was young and foolish, and because my eyes were blue, i felt flattered at this wandering creature's remark. however, without waiting for an answer, she went on.
"come, we will have a trick first. now," she said, pulling out three of the balls from her bag, "you hold that ball, mon enfant—thus," and she put one red one—the only red one—into my hand. "you have it?"
"yes," i said, "i have it;" and, because it was as big as a good-sized apple, i closed my two hands over it.
"you are sure?"
"certain."
"show it then." whereon i opened my hands again, and, lo! it was a gilt ball and not a red one that was in them.
"show that trick to me," said a voice at my back, even as de pontgibaud and camier burst out a-laughing, and so, too, did some of the people in the great hall who were supping, while i felt like a fool. "show that trick to me." and, looking round, i saw that it was the chevalier de marcieu who had spoken; the man to whom the regent had sent me, and who had ridden from paris with us as a sort of civilian director, or guide; the man from whom we were to take our orders when acting as guard to alberoni when he passed this way, presuming that we had the good fortune to encounter his eminence; he who was to be responsible for the safety of the cardinal.
now, he knew well enough that we of the mousquetaires gris did not like him, that we regarded him as a spy—which, in truth, he was, more or less—and that his company was not absolutely welcome to us. wherefore, all along the road from paris he had kept himself very much apart from us, not taking his meals at our table—where he was not wanted!—and riding ever behind the troop, saying very little except when necessary. but now he had evidently left the table at which he ate alone and had come over to ours, drawn there, perhaps, by a desire to witness the girl's performances.
"no," she said, "i shall not show it to you. i do not do the same trick twice. but, if you choose, i will fetch my little snake. perhaps that would amuse you."
"i wish to see that trick with the red ball," said de marcieu quietly, taking no notice whatever of her emphasis on the word "you." "show it to me."
for answer, however, she dropped the balls into the bag, and, drawing up a vacant chair which stood against our table—she was a free and easy young woman, this!—said she was tired, and should do no more tricks that night. also, she asked for some of our roussillon as a payment for what she had done. whereupon camier poured her out a gobletful and passed it over to her, which, with a pretty little bow and grimace, she took, drinking our healths saucily a moment later.
meanwhile i was eyeing this stroller and thinking that she was a vastly well-favoured one in spite of her brown skin, which, both on face and hands, was a strange colour, it not being altogether that wholesome, healthy brown which the winds and sun bring to those who are always in the open, but, instead, a sort of muddy colour, so that i thought, perhaps, she did not use to wash overmuch—which, maybe, was like enough. also, i wondered at the shapeliness of her fingers and hands, the former being delicate and tapering, and the nails particularly well kept. likewise, i observed something else that i thought strange. her robe—for such it was—consisted of a coarse, russet-coloured n?mes serge, such as the poor ever wear in france, having in it several tears and jags that had been mended roughly, yet, all the same, it looked new and fresh—too new, indeed, to have been thus torn and frayed. then, also, i noticed that at her neck, just above the collar of her dress, there peeped out a piece of lace of the finest quality, lace as good as that of my steinkirk or the ruffles of a dandy's frills. and all this set me a-musing, i know not why.
meanwhile marcieu was persistent about that red ball, asking her again and again to try the trick on him, and protesting in a kind of rude good-humour that she did not dare to let him inspect the ball, since she feared he would discover some cunning artifice in it which would show how she made it change from red to gilt.
"bah!" she replied, "i can do it with anything else. here, i will show you the trick with other balls." whereon, as she spoke, she drew out two of the gilt ones and said, "now, hold out your hands and observe. see, this one has a scratch on it; that one has none. put the second in your hand and i will transfer the other in its place."
"nay," said the chevalier; "you shall do it with the red or not at all."
"i will conjure no more," she said pettishly. then she snatched up the goblet of wine, drank it down at a gulp, and went off out of the room, saying—
"good-night, mousquetaires. good-night, blue eyes," and, i protest, blew me a kiss with the tips of her fingers. the sauciness of these mountebanks is often beyond belief.
the chevalier took the vacant chair she had quitted, though no one invited him to do so, his company not being desired by any of us, and pontgibaud, calling for a deck of cards, challenged camier to a game of piquet. as for me, i sat with my elbows on the table watching them play, though at the same time my eye occasionally fell on the spy, and i wondered what he was musing upon so deeply. but, presently, he called the drawer over to him and gave an order for some drink to be brought (since none of us had passed him over the flask, we aristocratic mousquetaires not deeming a mouchard fit bottle-companion for us), and when it came he turned his back to the table at which we sat, and asked the man a question in a low voice; though not so low a one but that i caught what he said, and the reply too.
"where is that vagrant disposed of?" he asked. "with those other vagabonds, i suppose," letting his eye fall on the members of the fantoccini troupe, "or in one of the stables."
"nay, nay," the server said, "she is not here, but at the 'red glove' in the next street. she told me to-night that that was her headquarters until she had visited every inn and tavern in toulouse and earned some money. then she will go on to narbonne."
"so! the 'red glove.' a poor inn that, is it not?"
whereon the man said it was good enough for a wandering ballad-singer anyhow, and went off swiftly to attend to another order at the end of the room, while marcieu sat there sipping his drink, but now and again casting his eye also over some tablets which he had drawn out of his pocket.
but at this time nine o'clock boomed forth from the tower of the cathedral hard by, which we had noticed as we rode in, and pontgibaud gave the troopers their orders to betake themselves to their beds; also one to me to go to the stables and see that all the horses were carefully bestowed for the night, since, though the troop-sergeant had made his report that such was the case, he required confirmation of it. wherefore i went to the end of the room, and, taking my long grey houppelande, or horseman's cloak (which we mousquetaires, because we always had the best of everything, wore trimmed with costly grey fur), i donned it, and was about to go forth to the stables when i heard pontgibaud's voice raised somewhat angrily as he spoke to the chevalier.
"we are soldiers, not——"
"fichtre for such an arrest!" i heard him say, while the few strangers who had not gone to their beds—as most had done by now—cast their eyes in the direction where he and marcieu were. "not i! body of my father! what do you take my gentlemen of the mousquetaires to be? exempts! police! bah! go to la poste. get one of their fellows to do it. we are soldiers, not——"
"i have the regent's orders," le marcieu replied quietly, "to arrest him or any one else i see fit. and, monsieur le vicomte, it is to assist me that your 'gentlemen of the mousquetaires' are here in toulouse—have ridden with me from paris. i must press it upon you to do as i desire."
now, i could not wait any longer, since i had my orders from pontgibaud to repair to the stables and see that the chargers were comfortable for the night, and as, also, i saw a glance shoot out of his eye over the other's head which seemed to bid me go on with my duty. upon which i went out to the yard, noticing that the snow was falling heavily, and that it was like to be a hard winter night—went out accompanied by a stableman carrying a lantern.
"give it me," i said, taking the lamp from him, "i will go the round myself. also the key, so that i can lock the door when i have made inspection."
"nay, monsieur," he answered, "the door cannot be locked. the inn is full; other travellers' horses are in the stable; they may be required at daybreak."
"very well," i replied, "in that case one of our men must be roused and put as guard over the animals; they are too valuable to be left alone in an open stable," and, as i spoke, i thought particularly of my beautiful la rose, for whom i had paid a hundred pistoles a year ago. then i gave the fellow a silver piece and bade him go get a drink to warm himself with on this winter night, and entered the stable.
the whinny which la rose gave as i went in showed me where all our horses were bestowed, and i proceeded down to the end of the stable, observing when i got there that they were all well housed for the night, and their straw clean and fresh; while, as the glimmer of the lamp proclaimed, they had been properly groomed and attended to. everything was very well. wherefore, giving my own mare the piece of sugar i had brought for her, i made for the door again, observing that le marcieu's red roan, a wiry but serviceable beast, was in a stall nearer to the entrance.
"not so fast, mademoiselle, not so fast. what are you doing here?"
then suddenly, as i raised the lantern to give a second glance at it, to my astonishment i saw the singing-girl, damaris, dart out swiftly from near that stall and endeavour to push by me and escape through the door; which, however, i easily prevented her from doing, since i seized her at once by the arm and held her, while i exclaimed, "not so fast, mademoiselle, not so fast. what are you doing here?—you, who are at the 'red glove' and have no business whatever in these stables."
