The Helmet of Navarre Part 69

"That will be out of our way, will it not, Vigo? It is a longer road from the Porte Neuve to St. Denis?"

"Yes; but what to do? We must get through the walls."

"Suppose we fare no better at the Porte Neuve? If your Brissac is suspected, he'll not be on at night. Vigo, I propose that we part company here. They will not know Gilles and Felix at the gate, will they?"

"No," Vigo said doubtfully; "but--"

"Then can we get through!" she cried. "They will not stop us, such humble folk! We are going to the bedside of our dying mother at St.

Denis. Your name, Gilles?"

"Forestier, mademoiselle," he stammered, startled.

"Then are we all Forestiers--Gilles, Felix, and Jeanne. We can pa.s.s out, Vigo; I am sure we can pa.s.s out. I am loath to part with you, but I fear to go through the city to the Porte Neuve. My absence may be discovered--I must place myself without the walls speedily.

"Well, mademoiselle may try it," Vigo gave reluctant consent. "If you are refused, we can fall back on the Porte Neuve. If you succeed--Listen to me, you fellows. You will deliver mademoiselle into Monsieur's hands, or answer to me for it. If any one touches her little finger--well, trust me!"

"That's understood," we answered, saluting together.

"Mademoiselle need have no doubts of them," Vigo said. "Felix is M. le Comte's own henchman. And Gilles is the best man in the household, next to me. G.o.d speed you, my lady. I am here, if they turn you back."

We went boldly round the corner and up the street to the gate. The sentry walking his beat ordered us away without so much as looking at us. Then Gilles, appointed our spokesman, demanded to see the captain of the watch. His errand was urgent.

But the sentry showed no disposition to budge. Had we a pa.s.sport? No, we had no pa.s.sport. Then we could go about our business. There was no leaving Paris to-night for us. Call the captain? No; he would do nothing of the kind. Be off, then!

But at this moment, hearing the altercation, the officer himself came out of the guard-room in the tower, and to him Gilles at once began his story. Our mother at St. Denis had sent for us to come to her dying bed.

He was a street-porter; the messenger had had trouble to find him. His young brother and sister were in service, kept to their duties till late. Our mother might even now be yielding up the ghost! It was a pitiful case, M. le Capitaine; might we not be permitted to pa.s.s?

The young officer appeared less interested in this moving tale than in the face of mademoiselle, lighted up by the flambeau on the tower wall.

"I should be glad to oblige your charming sister," he returned, smiling, "but none goes out of the city without a pa.s.sport. Perhaps you have one, though, from my Lord Mayenne?"

"Would our kind be carrying a pa.s.sport from the Duke of Mayenne?" quoth Gilles.

"It seems improbable," the officer smiled, pleased with his wit. "Sorry to discommode you, my dear. But perhaps, lacking a pa.s.sport, you can yet oblige me with the countersign, which does as well. Just one little word, now, and I'll let you through."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "IT DESOLATES ME TO HEAR OF HER EXTREMITY."]

"If monsieur will tell me the little word?" she asked innocently.

He burst into laughter.

"No, no; I am not to be caught so easy as that, my girl."

"Oh, come, monsieur captain," Gilles urged, "many and many a fellow goes in and out of Paris without a pa.s.sport. The rules are a net to stop big fish and let the small fry go. What harm will it do to my Lord Mayenne, or you, or anybody, if you have the gentleness to let three poor servants through to their dying mother?"

"It desolates me to hear of her extremity," the captain answered, with a fine irony, "but I am here to do my duty. I am thinking, my dear, that you are some great lady's maid?"

He was eying her sharply, suspiciously; she made haste to protest:

"Oh, no, monsieur; I am servant to Mme. Mesnier, the grocer's wife."

"And perhaps you serve in the shop?"

"No, monsieur," she said, not seeing his drift, but on guard against a trap. "No, monsieur; I am never in the shop. I am far too busy with my work. Monsieur does not seem to understand what a servant-la.s.s has to do."

For answer, he took her hand and lifted it to the light, revealing all its smooth whiteness, its dainty, polished nails.

"I think mademoiselle does not understand it, either."

With a little cry, she s.n.a.t.c.hed her hand from him, hiding it in the folds of her kirtle, regarding him with open terror. He softened somewhat at sight of her distress.

"Well, it's none of my business if a lady chooses to be masquerading round the streets at night with a porter and a lackey. I don't know what your purpose is--I don't ask to know. But I'm here to keep my gate, and I'll keep it. Go try to wheedle the officer at the Porte Neuve."

In helpless obedience, glad of even so much leniency, we turned away--to face a tall, grizzled veteran in a colonel's shoulder-straps. With a dragoon at his back, he had come so softly out of a side alley that not even the captain had marked him.

"What's this, Guilbert?" he demanded.

"Some folks seeking to get through the gates, sir. I've just turned them away."

"What were you saying about the Porte Neuve?"

"I said they could go see how that gate is kept. I showed them how this is."

"Why must you pa.s.s through at this time of night?" said the commanding officer, civilly. Gilles once again bemoaned the dying mother. The young captain, eager to prove his fidelity, interrupted him:

"I believe that's a fairy-tale, sir. There's something queer about these people. The girl says she is a grocer's servant, and has hands like a d.u.c.h.ess's."

The colonel looked at us sharply, neither friendly nor unfriendly. He said in a perfectly neutral manner:

"It is of no consequence whether she be a servant or a d.u.c.h.ess--has a mother or not. The point is whether these people have the countersign.

If they have it, they can pa.s.s, whoever they are."

"They have not," the captain answered at once. "I think you would do well, sir, to demand the lady's name."

Mademoiselle started forward for a bold stroke just as the superior officer demanded of her, "The countersign?" As he said the word, she p.r.o.nounced distinctly her name:

"Lorance--"

"Enough!" the colonel said instantly. "Pa.s.s them through, Guilbert."

The young captain stood in a mull, but no more bewildered than we.

"Mighty queer!" he muttered. "Why didn't she give it to me?"

"Stir yourself, sir!" his superior gave sharp command. "They have the countersign; pa.s.s them through."