The Mystery of the Lost Dauphin Part 37

When Lecazes entered, the valetudinarian smiled piquantly, as one might in slipping manacles on the wrists of an astute diplomat. Handing the Minister a threatening letter, he vehemently asked:

"What does this mean, Baron? I am asked for an audience. I am told that some one possesses knowledge of impending evil to the royal family. I am warned that the refusing of this interview will be the cause of disaster to those dearest to me. It follows that some one is better informed than I concerning our interests. Is not this a humiliating position for a King?"

As Lecazes was about to answer, there entered unannounced a man in the prime of life. He had a prepossessing nonchalant impetuous manner. This was Prince Ferdinand, second son of the King's brother Charles, sole hope of the race's continuation. He was not handsome but he possessed in a high manner the simple frankness and graceful address characteristic of certain members of the Bourbon family, which was so captivating as to create around them, even in times of popular discontent, an atmosphere of loyalty. Ferdinand was short of stature and irregular in feature, but his bright glance and irradiating vitality acted always as a great jubilant wave enveloping all near him. A generous and cordial nature, rising spontaneously to heroism, was revealed in his face, mingled with a n.o.ble energy.

"Sire," he said, kissing his uncle's hand, "I pray you to pardon my intrusion. I have an urgent communication which must not be delayed a moment."

Lecazes made a discreet movement of withdrawal.

"No, no, Baron," interposed Ferdinand. "I pray you to remain. I expected to find you here. I know, besides, that His Majesty has no secrets from you. Indeed, I suppose you are better informed concerning this tangle than I, for your fingers it is that have woven the mesh."

"To what does your Royal Highness allude?" asked Lecazes guardedly.

"To letters which I constantly receive," replied Ferdinand sharply.

"Letters which have kept me awake more than one night."

"Love letters?" ironically inquired Lecazes. "Your Royal Highness inspires innumerable pa.s.sions. 'Tis no marvel that these letters rain upon you. What I find amusing is your simplicity in taking them seriously."

The Prince's frank countenance darkened. His brow contracted and his lips curled disdainfully as he replied:

"Baron, I am not accustomed to discuss such questions with others,--least of all with the police! The matter concerns,--bah! why should I relate this to you?--the matter concerns a member of our family who has been rifled of personal doc.u.ments and forced into exile, in order to avoid even more barbarous treatment."

"Will Your Royal Highness be good enough to mention the name of--this--member of the royal House?"

"You know his name better than I, since 'twas you who prepared the villainous ambuscade and the other iniquities which I shall not enumerate."

"Who is Your Royal Highness's informant?" asked Lecazes, turning livid.

"One who knows whereof he speaks," replied the Prince producing a packet of letters.

"But Ferdinand, my son, why do you credit such calumniators?" interposed the King.

"Sire, these are not calumnies. If you consider them such, why not turn upon them the light of day? To me they have ample confirmation in the face of Monsieur the Superintendent of Police, or in your own, Sire, or in that of Madame my cousin and sister-in-law. I have seen her swoon on hearing the name of the man whose personal history contains the tragic episodes enacted last summer in Versailles park. The life of that true knight and gentleman, my dear friend, Rene de Giac, there paid the penalty for his loyalty--he, the son of one of the most valiant of Conde's officers--"

"Ferdinand," stammered the King, his face growing paler and paler, "your words are audacious and unwarranted. From any other than you, I should p.r.o.nounce them the ravings of a madman. What inference is to be drawn from your a.s.severations? None other than that we are a usurper, that the Restoration was a robbery and that as rest.i.tution, we must deliver up the throne, after having played the role of thief, and retire into private life amid the jeers of the spectators. What would follow then, think you? Nothing less than an armed intervention of Europe to restore order in France a second time and clear the bandit caves of their booty."

"We are not speaking of an impostor," insisted Ferdinand bravely.

"Dare you call us usurper, then?" shrieked the King.

The smile on Lecazes's lips was a discharge of gall and the gleam in his eyes was Satanic.

"For my part, Sire," retorted the nephew, "I believe you to be such. I refuse--O more than the glory of thrones and crowns do I cherish honor and the religion of Knighthood. I may or may not have a right to the tide Royal Highness, but beyond question I am a soldier, and notwithstanding certain gallantries, a Christian. I do not proclaim my virtue as does my brother Louis, but neither do I ravish another man of his rights. I will not longer live this life. I have tried to make light of these letters. Does Your Majesty know why? Because in all of them breathes a threat, and no man shall think me coward. If G.o.d gives me life and France wars,'twill be demonstrated whether or not I am such. My coming to you now has for object that of declaring to your Majesty that if this matter be not adjudicated according to law and justice and in a manner befitting our family dignity, I shall be forced to the alternative of going to Holland and offering my services to my cousin, as a partial reparation for the iniquity practised upon him."

"And I should not be surprised at your extravagance, my dear nephew,"

replied the King, irate and sarcastic. "Your action would be in keeping with the conduct of a man who never considers the consequences of his acts, a man who married a London woman of base extraction,--the plebeian Amy Brown, a man who disregards court etiquette so far as to imitate the Corsican in his policy of acquiring popularity with the army, a man whose language in public is such as to undermine the established regime.

You would be more satisfactory nephew, were you to fulfill your office, of furnishing France with a male heir of whom we stand in so great need."

Ferdinand, far from evincing annoyance at the burst of wrath, answered serenely:

"Sire, I scarcely think you hold me accountable for failing to counteract the decrees of Providence regarding the birth of an heir. As for the matter which brings me here, I declare that my regard for Your Majesty cannot prevent my speaking my mind. I have considered that it was due you to make you a party to the knowledge of the iniquity, that you might have the opportunity of seconding my resolution. But if our strength is to have its foundation in infamy, a sad future has the House! I ask for but my commission in the army or to be a soldier in the ranks. Your Majesty accuses me of imitating the Corsican. I reply that the only glory I seek is the glory of arms and of a fearless heart."

"Is this all you would say, nephew?" asked the King, white with rage.

"Your Majesty is offended? Your Majesty dismisses me?"

"His Majesty's strength is unequal to such shocks," interposed Lecazes.

"My Lord Baron," said the Prince, "you are right. I retire. Henceforth, Ferdinand de Bourbon has no guide but his conscience."

Saluting the monarch gravely and the Minister with mock respect, he departed.

Lecazes followed him with a smile. As his footsteps died away, the Baron shrugged his shoulders.

"What do you think of this Lecazes?" inquired the King.

"That we must let the Prince continue the road he has chosen. Place no obstacles in his way--and do not trouble your mind about him.--Many important historical events have just such origins as this.--I shall not meddle in the affairs of His Royal Highness."

In the minister's mind there was formed the picture of a young vigorous tree felled at a blow.

Chapter XI

FERDINAND'S FATE

Two days later a tumultuous carnival animated Paris. Crowds jostled each other in the streets and gazed upon the procession of the Bull crowned with flowers and the triumphal car freighted with maidens in gala clothes and singing their applause. One of these maidens, a Versailles laundress, was a shining mark, by reason of the brilliancy of her complexion and the gleaming of her hair. On pa.s.sing the Gate of Saint-Denis, seeing a small man of puny frame and bilious skin she called merrily out to him:

"h.e.l.lo, Louis Pierre, old owl, de profundis face, don't you want to sup tonight with some happy people at the Inn Mariscale?"

The masks and students near laughed to split their throats, and the interrogated man hastened to conceal himself amid the crowd. He took refuge in his lodgings and devoured his dinner with an almost savage hunger, a strange action, for he was usually abstemious. Then he went out again and mingled with the crowd. He leaned against the gla.s.s windows of the royal theatre and watched the brilliant concourse within.

A great festival was in progress. The program announced the "Carnival of Venice" and "The Marriage of Camacho." Carriages rolled, torches gleamed, the crowd surged. The Court was arriving. Louis Pierre felt his head swim. "Now, now!" a voice seemed mockingly to whisper. But in spite of the mandate, he remained inert. Action refused to travel from brain to hands.

"What ails me?" he asked himself. "Is it fear? Is it that I should not?

Am I about to perpetrate an act of justice or a crime? Have not my warnings remained unheeded? I could do no more than I have done, unless, indeed, I should deliver myself into their hands--"

While thus he vacillated, Prince Ferdinand and his wife the Princess Caroline descended from their carriage and entered the theatre.

"Another opportunity lost! Vacillations, scruples, absurd perplexities, culpable weaknesses! Have not these people given entrance to the Cossacks and oppressed and rifled the innocent Naundorff? De Breze's blood cries for vengeance. This besotted city steeped in a Carnival orgie! What is the a.s.sociation doing? The Knights seem to sleep on their arms. But Brutus keeps vigil--. Notwithstanding my numerous letters, they have set no watch on me. 'Tis that Destiny protects me. I was born to put my project into execution.--Let us wait, and then--the ax to the trunk."

He walked away objectless through the royal gardens, stumbling at every moment upon groups who sang baccha.n.a.lian refrains and prurient couplets from Beranger. Women, with painted faces wearing flowers and greens, flung cynical jests in his face. A drunkard insulted him. He heeded nothing, thirsting only for the fresh night air, which in his feverish condition he inhaled voraciously. Incoherent words rumbling through his brain seemed to urge him to the deed.

"I must obey, I must obey!" he kept saying. "Then I shall find rest.

Indecision and torture will be over."

He computed the moments with burning anxiety.