The Greatest Historical Novels. Rafael Sabatini
where his Highness kept a diminished court, now that his brother d'Artois had departed for Russia to solicit the support of the Empress.
The morning had been an unhappy one for his Highness. D'Avaray had been more than usually insistent upon the Prince's duty in Toulon. The news brought by Langéac dissipated some of his gloom.
'It is something at last,' he approved. 'More, I confess, than ever I had expected from that Gascon braggart.'
In correcting the ungracious Prince's impression, it may be that Langéac spoke of his instructions without reflecting, or it may be that like a mean sycophant he was in haste to curry favour by discrediting the Baron.
'It is, Monseigneur, less the work of Monsieur de Batz than of Moreau.'
'Moreau?' The bulging eyes of his Highness grew round in their stare. Then, recollection returning to him, he frowned. 'Ah! Moreau? He is still alive, then?' He conveyed the impression that he was not pleased. A difficult man, thought Langéac.
'He has an uncanny gift of life, Monseigneur.'
His Highness appeared to have lost interest in the news. Shortly he thanked Monsieur de Langéac for his diligence, and dismissed him.
Monsieur d'Entragues conducted him. A lodging was prepared for him in the châlet. But this was not the cause of the Count's civility.
'Touching this man Moreau,' he said, when they were outside the Regent's room, 'it were best that you did not mention to anybody the fact that he is still alive. Reasons of State. You understand?'
'Not to anybody?' Langéac questioned. His foolish face was vacuous.
'That is what I said, sir. You will mention it to nobody.'
'But that is impossible. I have a letter from him. A letter for Mademoiselle de Kercadiou. If she is still here in Hamm ...'
He was interrupted. 'The letter changes nothing. You will give it to me. I ask for it in the name of his Highness. And you will forget that you bore it.' Under Langéac's puzzled regard, he repeated: 'Reasons of State. Grave reasons of State, which I am not at liberty to explain to you.'
There was a pause. Then Langéac shrugged, surrendered the letter, and gave the required promise. It is possible that his unfriendliness towards André-Louis may have helped to render him indifferent.
The Comte d'Entragues returned to his Highness. 'This man Moreau has written again,' he dryly announced.
'Written?' The Regent looked up at him. His eyes were dull.
'To Mademoiselle de Kercadiou. I have the letter here. We can hardly suffer it to be delivered now. It will betray the fact that there have been other letters.'
His Highness was quick to grasp the implication. 'Damn your meddling, d'Entragues. Is this all that's to come of it? If this fellow Moreau survives in the end, your suppression of his letters will be discovered. How shall we look then?'
'My shoulders will bear that burden, Monseigneur. No need to betray your Highness's part in a measure charitably intended. And, anyway, it is unlikely that he will survive. His luck cannot hold forever.'
'Ha! But if it does?'
The Count's lean, swarthy face, so deeply scored with lines despite his comparative youth, was inscrutable. The glance of his dark eyes was steady. 'Does your Highness ask me?'
'You heard me.'
'In your place, Monseigneur,' he said quietly and slowly, 'I should so have contrived by now that news of Moreau's survival, if it reached Mademoiselle de Kercadiou at all, should reach her too late to be welcome, too late to matter.'
'My God! What are you suggesting?'
'That your Highness has been too patient.'
The Regent appeared to be scandalized.
D'Entragues elaborated. 'To be patient in these matters is no mark of gallantry. Women are not flattered by it. They'll sooner forgive an excess of ardour. Lukewarm desire is a reflection on their charms.'
'Morbleu, d'Entragues! You're a villain.'
'In the service of your Highness I am whatever will serve you best. And where's the villainy? I have never known you hesitate to employ those powers which past experience must have shown your Highness that you possess over all women. Why should you hesitate to employ them now? Toulon awaits you impatiently. Yet you cannot decide to go. I perfectly understand this reluctance. What I do not understand is that you should be jeopardizing everything to this—your Highness will forgive the word—to this infatuation.'
'A thousand devils, D'Entragues!' His Highness was peevish. 'Now you talk like d'Avaray, who has presumed to preach me a sermon on my duty which lasted for over an hour.'
'I talk not at all like d'Avaray. D'Avaray does not understand your difficulties. He offers you a choice of evils. You are to be false to your duty or false to your feelings. I show you how both may be served. Set out for Toulon. But take Mademoiselle de Kercadiou with you.'
'Ah! The advice is easily given. But would she come? Would she come?'
D'Entragues's steady glance continued levelled upon the big, florid countenance of his master. The faintest of smiles, in which there was a tinge of cruelty, hovered about his thin lips. Slowly, significantly, at last, he said: 'In certain circumstances there is no doubt that she would go.'
The bulging eyes shifted to avoid the minister's glance.
'And Kercadiou?' he asked. 'What of him? Would he ...' He could not find words in which to conclude the sentence.
D'Entragues shrugged. 'Monsieur de Kercadiou has no higher sense than the sense of his duty to the blood royal. It would surprise me if he had not the same sense of the duty of his womenfolk. But if you doubt it, Monseigneur, if the presence of Monsieur de Kercadiou restrains you ...'
Into the Count's thoughtful pause flashed the Prince's swift assertion: 'It does. Damnably. What else do you suppose has restrained me? What else is responsible for this patience of mine which you presume to deplore?'
'It would be easy to remove him,' said the intriguer quietly.
He disclosed the means. Let the Regent announce his departure for Toulon, which, after all, could no longer be delayed. He would go by way of Turin and Leghorn. There was an urgent message to be sent to the Prince de Condé in Belgium, and meanwhile Monsieur de Langéac, their usual messenger, would already have been despatched elsewhere. The only other person whom the Regent could spare from attendance to bear those letters to Condé was Monsieur de Kercadiou. His niece could hardly accompany him on such a mission. She would remain in Hamm. The presence there of Kercadiou's cousin, Madame de Plougastel, would make this easy.
The Regent sat considering, his chin upon his breast. His face had lost some of its high colour. Temptation, so fiendishly presented, had him by the throat.
'And afterwards?' he asked.
The Comte d'Entragues permitted himself a cynical little laugh.
'Preventive measures may have been employed against your Highness in the past. I do not know. But has your Highness ever been troubled afterwards?'
And so it came to pass that in the afternoon, Langéac, barely rested from his journey, was riding out of Hamm again, this time charged with the arrangement of relays along the road by which his Highness was to travel in the course of the next few days. It was only after his departure that the urgent need of a courier for the Prince de Condé was discovered, and Monsieur de Kercadiou invited, in default of any other, to undertake the task. It was not for the Lord of Gavrillac to shirk a duty, whatever it might be, in the service of his Prince. His instructions were that upon the performance of his errand he was to return to Hamm, and there await the further orders of the Regent.
If Aline was anxious on her uncle's behalf, she displayed no sign of it. Anxieties on her own she had none. She would await his return in Hamm. Meanwhile, the only care she manifested was concerned with the details of his equipment for the journey.
Not