The Greatest Historical Novels. Rafael Sabatini
and intelligence which the work demands.'
'I employ no others, monsieur,' said d'Entragues with arrogance.
'Could I permit myself to suppose it, monsieur?'
And then Monsieur d'Artois, who had been frowning, interposed. 'There is yet another quality necessary. I ask myself does Monsieur Moreau possess it.'
The Regent, who had been pensively smiling, looked up as if suddenly startled. But his brother ran on, fixing his glance keenly, and coldly upon André-Louis.
'I call to mind, Monsieur Moreau, a conversation we had at Schönbornlust, in the course of which you expressed yourself a constitutionalist. Hitherto it has been my invariable rule to demand a greater purity of ideals than that in those who follow us. We do not aim at restoring a monarchy to France if it is to be a constitutional monarchy. We shall reëstablish there a monarchy in the ancient forms, persuaded, as we are, that had our unfortunate brother made no departure from this, the present unhappy state of things would never have arisen. You will understand, Monsieur Moreau, that inspired by such ideals, we must hesitate to enlist the services of any man who does not fully share them. You smile, Monsieur Moreau?'
André-Louis asked himself who would not have smiled at this pompous address from a Prince Lackland to a man who was proposing to get himself killed in his service. But he made a sharp recovery of his gravity.
'Monseigneur,' he replied, 'assuming that we are successful in this forlorn hope, the extent of our success will be to overthrow the existing régime and open the way for the restoration. What form the monarchy will take when restored will hardly rest with us ...'
'Maybe, maybe,' the Prince coldly interrupted him. 'But we must still observe a discrimination, a fastidiousness even, in the agents we enlist. We owe this to ourselves, to the dignity of our station.'
'I understand,' said André-Louis, frosty in his turn, 'the purity of your ideals demands a purity in the weapons you employ.'
'You express it very happily, Monsieur Moreau. I thank you. You will perceive that we have no other guarantee of the sincerity of those who act as our agents.'
'I venture to think, Monseigneur, that I could supply a guarantee of my own.'
Monsieur d'Artois seemed surprised by the answer. 'If you please,' he said.
'The best guarantee a man can give of his sincerity is to show that his interest lies in keeping faith. Now with the restoration of the monarchy is bound up the restoration of various nobles to their confiscated domains. Amongst these there is my godfather Monsieur de Kercadiou, who will be restored to Gavrillac. He has imposed it upon me that I must wait until this is accomplished before I may fulfil my dearest hope, which is to marry Mademoiselle Kercadiou. You will perceive, Monseigneur, my interest in advancing the cause of the monarchy so that I may advance my own, which is my chief concern.'
Now that is not the way to address a prince, and no prince was ever more conscious that he was a prince than Monsieur le Comte d'Artois.
Cold anger quivered in the restrained voice in which he answered. 'I perceive it clearly, monsieur. It explains to me all that I considered obscure in the aims of a man of your history and sentiments, which in themselves are not calculated to inspire confidence.'
André-Louis bowed formally. 'I am dismissed, I think.'
Coldly Monsieur d'Artois inclined his head in assent. De Batz in a fury made a clicking sound with his tongue. But before he could commit himself to any solecism that must have made matters worse, the Regent, to the surprise of all, had intervened. He was almost nervous in manner. His florid face seemed to have lost some of its colour. The podgy hand he extended as he spoke could be seen to shake.
'Ah, but wait! Wait, Monsieur Moreau! A moment, I beg!'
His brother looked down at him in angry, uncomprehending astonishment. It was unbelievable that it was the Regent of France who had spoken. Monsieur, usually so cold, correct, and formal, so fully imbued with a sense of the dignity of his office, so observant of etiquette that, even to give audience in this wooden hut at Hamm, he donned the ribbon of the Holy Ghost and hung a dress-sword at his side, appeared completely to have forgotten what was due to him. Otherwise he could not have addressed in that tone of almost scared intercession a man who had permitted himself to be insolent in speech and carriage. To Monsieur d'Artois this was the end of the world. Not for a throne could he have believed that his brother would so abase himself.
'Monseigneur!' he exclaimed in a voice that expressed his horror and dismay.
But all the majesty seemed to have deserted the Regent. He spoke mildly, conciliatorily. 'We must not be ungenerous. We must keep in view that Monsieur Moreau offers a very gallant service.' He seemed only just to have become aware of it. 'It would be ungenerous either to decline it, or to look too closely into—ah—the general sentiments by which Monsieur Moreau is—ah—inspired.'
'You think so?' said Monsieur d'Artois tartly, his brows drawn together at the root of his Bourbon nose.
'I think so,' he was curtly answered, in a tone of finality, a tone which seemed clearly to imply that it was the speaker who occupied the throne and whose will was paramount. 'Myself, I am very grateful to Monsieur Moreau for his readiness to serve us by an undertaking whose perils I do not underestimate. If, as we must hope, the undertaking is successful, I shall express that gratitude liberally. The extent of my liberality will be governed only by the political opinions then held by Monsieur Moreau. He will perceive how inevitable this is. But until then I do not think that his past opinions and activities need concern us. I repeat, it would be ungenerous to permit them to do so.'
The amazement had deepened in his audience. This unusual and sudden degree of graciousness bewildered them, with the possible exception of the keen-witted, alert Monsieur d'Entragues, who thought that he understood the Regent's anxieties.
Monsieur d'Artois was crimson, his vanity affronted by an opposition which had been displayed almost in the terms of a rebuke. He took a haughty tone.
'The repetition is quite unnecessary. I was not likely to forget that so uncompromising a word as "ungenerous" had been used. I will not dwell upon this now. Since our views of this matter are so wide asunder, I can have no further part in it.' And abruptly he turned upon his heel.
The Regent scowled. 'Monseigneur,' he cried, 'you are not to forget that I occupy the place of the King.'
'Your Highness leaves me in no danger of forgetting it,' was the younger Prince's bitter rejoinder, disloyal at once to the representative of royalty and to the dead Sovereign. On that he went out, slamming the door after him.
The Regent made a clumsy effort to dispel the discomfort left by that departure.
'My brother, messieurs, takes in these matters an uncompromising attitude, which we must respect even if we do not feel called upon to share it.' He sighed. 'There is a rigidity in his ideals, which are very exalted, very noble.' He paused, and then changed his tone. 'Little remains, I think, to be said. I have already expressed, Monsieur de Batz, my appreciation of the endeavours which you and Monsieur Moreau are about to exert. For anything else that you require, Monsieur d'Entragues is at your service, and I am happy that with him, too, an understanding should have been reached.'
'There is one other matter, Monseigneur,' said de Batz. 'Funds.'
His Highness was startled. He flung up his hands. 'In the name of Heaven, Monsieur de Batz! Do you ask us for money?'
'No, Monseigneur. Merely for authority to provide it.' And in answer to the Regent's stare, he smiled significantly. 'In the usual way, Monseigneur.'
It was clear that his Highness understood. But he was still not comfortable. He looked at d'Entragues as if for guidance.
D'Entragues thrust out a deprecatory lip. 'You know, Monseigneur, the trouble there has been already, and the undertakings you have given.'
'But those,' ventured Monsieur de Batz, 'apply only here abroad, and not to France.'
The Regent nodded and considered. 'You give