Saint Bartholomew's Eve: A Tale of the Huguenot Wars

"I am, count. I am here upon no plot or conspiracy, but simply to endeavour to ascertain the fate of my cousin, Francois de Laville, who was with the King of Navarre on that fearful night, a fortnight since. His mother is distracted at hearing no news of him, while to me he is as a brother.

"I effected my own escape, and have, as you see, returned in disguise to ascertain his fate. I am unable to obtain a list of those who were murdered and, seeing you, I felt that it would be safe to rely upon your honour, and to ask you to give me the news I require. I will fall back now, for it might be thought strange that a noble should be talking to a peasant; but I pray you to lead the way to some quiet spot, where I can speak with you unnoticed."

"My lodging is in the next street. Follow me, and I will take you up to my room."

As soon as they had entered the lodging, the count said:

"You are not deceived. I am incapable of betraying a trust imposed upon me. I bear you no malice for the slaying of my cousin; for indeed, the quarrel was not of your seeking. Still less do I feel hostility towards you on the ground of your religion; for I doubt not, from what you say, that you are of the Reformed faith. I lament, most deeply and bitterly, the events that have taken place–events which dishonour our nation in the eyes of all Europe. I have not the pleasure of knowing your name."

"I am the Chevalier Philip Fletcher, an Englishman by birth, though related on my mother's side to the family of the Count de Laville."

"I have heard your name, sir, as that of one of the bravest gentlemen in the following of Admiral Coligny.

"Now, as to your cousin; his fate is uncertain. He was certainly cut down by the hired wretches of the Guises. They passed on in search of other victims, believing him to be dead; but his body was not afterwards found, and the general opinion is that he either recovered and crawled away, and is still in some hiding place, or that he is concealed somewhere in the palace itself. Search was made next day, but without success. Some think he may have reached the streets, and been there killed; and his body, like so many others, thrown into the Seine. I trust that this is not the case, but I have no grounds for bidding you hope."

"At any rate, you have given me cause to hope, sir, and I thank you heartily. It is something to know that he is not certainly dead.

"Can you tell me on which side of the palace was his chamber? I saw him there frequently, but did not, on any occasion, go with him to his room."

"It was on the side facing the river. It was near that of the King of Navarre."

"Thank you, count. It is but a small clue with which to commence my search, but it is at least something. You say that the palace itself has been searched?"

"Yes. On the following morning it was thoroughly searched for fugitives in hiding; but for all that he may be concealed there, by some servant whose goodwill he had gained.

"Is there anything else that I can tell you? I may say that I have, personally, no influence whatever at court. I have never failed to express myself strongly, in reference to the policy of persecution; and I am only here, now, in obedience to the royal orders to present myself at court."

"There is nothing else, count. I thank you most sincerely, for having thus respected my disguise, and for the news you have given me."

Philip returned to the Louvre and joined Pierre, who was impatiently waiting.

"I followed you for some distance, sir; but when I saw you address the count, and then follow quietly behind him, I saw you were right, and that he was to be trusted; and so returned to await your coming. Have you obtained any sure news from him?"

Philip repeated his conversation with the count.

"I will wager he is hidden somewhere in the palace," Pierre said. "Badly wounded as he must have been, he could not have hoped to make his escape through the streets, knowing no one who would have dared to give him refuge. It is far more likely that some of the palace servants came upon him, just as he was recovering, and hid him away. He was always bright and pleasant, fond of a jest, and it may well be that some woman or other took pity on him. The question is, how are we to find out who she is?"

"It is as likely to be a man as a woman, Pierre."

"No," Pierre said positively. "Women are wonderfully tender hearted, and are not so afraid of consequences as men are. A man might feel some pity, at seeing a gentleman so sorely wounded, but he would not risk his own life to shelter him; while any woman would do it, without hesitation. It may be a lady of noble family, or a poor kitchen wench, but that it is a woman I would wager my life."

"It seems hopeless to try to find out who it is," Philip said despondently.

"Not hopeless, sir, though doubtless difficult. With your permission, I will undertake this part of the task. I will get myself up as a workman out of employment–and there are many such–and will hang about near that little gate. It is the servants' entrance, and I shall be able to watch every woman that comes out."

"But what good will watching do?"

"It may do no good, sir, but yet it may help. A woman, with such a secret as that on her mind, will surely show some signs of it upon her face. She will either have a scared look, or an anxious look. She will not walk with an easy step."

"Well, there is something in what you say, Pierre. At any rate, I can think of nothing better."

The next morning Pierre took up his position opposite the gate, but had no news that night to report to his master; nor had he on the second or third; but on the fourth, he returned radiant.

"Good news, master. The count is alive, and I have found him."

Philip sprung from his settle, and grasped his faithful follower by the hand.

"Thank God for the news, Pierre. I had almost given up hope. How did you discover him?"

"Just as I expected, sir. I have seen, in the last three days, scores of women come out; but none of them needed a second look. Some were intent on their own finery, others were clearly bent on shopping. Some looked up and down the street, for a lover who ought to have been waiting for them. Not one of these had a secret of life and death on her mind.

"But this afternoon there came out a young woman with a pale face, and an anxious look. She glanced nervously up and down the street, not as one expecting to meet a friend, but as if she feared an enemy. After a moment's hesitation, she crossed the road and walked along with an indecisive air; more than once glancing behind her, as if afraid of being followed.

"'This is my lady,' I said to myself and, keeping some distance behind and on the opposite side of the road, I followed her.

"She soon turned off into a side street. Once or twice she paused, looked into a shop, hesitated, and then went on again. You may be sure I marked the spots, and was not surprised to find that, in each case, it was an apothecary's before which she had hesitated.

"At last, after looking round again timidly, she entered one; and when I came up, I also went in. She gave a nervous start. I asked to be supplied with a pot of salve for a wound, and the man helped me from one he had just placed on the counter before him. I paid for it, and left.

"Two or three minutes later, I saw her come out. Whatever she had bought, she had hidden it under her cloak. Up to this time she had walked fast, but she now loitered, and looked at the wares displayed on the stalls.

"'You are in no hurry to go back,' I said to myself. 'You have got what you wanted, and you do not wish to attract attention, by returning to the palace after so short an absence.'

"At last, when she was in a quiet spot, I walked quickly up to her.

"'Mademoiselle,' I said, taking off my hat, 'I am a friend of the gentleman for whom you have bought that salve, and other matters.'

"She became very white, but she said stoutly:

"'I don't know what you are talking about, sir; and if you molest a modest young woman in the streets, I shall appeal to the town constables for protection.'

"'I repeat,' I said, 'that I am a friend of the gentleman for whom you have just bought the materials for dressing his wounds. I am the servant of his cousin, the Chevalier Fletcher; and the name of your patient is Count Francois de Laville.'

"She looked at me, stupefied with astonishment, and stammered:

"'How do you know that?'

"'It is enough, mademoiselle, that I know it,' I said. 'My master and I have come to Paris, expressly to find Monsieur de Laville; and when we have found him, to aid him to make his escape. Do not hesitate to confide in me, for only so shall we succeed in the object of our journey.'

"'What is your master's Christian name?' she asked, still doubtful.

"'It is Philip,' I said.

"She clasped her hands together.

"'The good God be praised!' she exclaimed. 'It was of Philip he spoke, when he was so ill. He was unconscious. Surely it is He that has sent you to me. It has been terrible for me to bear my secret, alone.'

"'Let us walk farther,' I said, 'before you tell me more. There are too many people passing here; and if they notice the tears on your cheeks, they may suspect me of ill treating you, and may ask troublesome questions.'