



Produced by Al Haines









MY SWORD'S MY FORTUNE

A STORY OF OLD FRANCE


BY

HERBERT HAYENS




LONDON AND GLASGOW

COLLINS' CLEAR-TYPE PRESS

1904




Contents.


Chapter

      I.  I Go to Paris
     II.  La Boule d'Or
    III.  I Enter the Astrologer's House
     IV.  I Meet the Cardinal
      V.  The Reception at the Luxembourg
     VI.  Was I Mistaken?
    VII.  The Cardinal takes an Evening Walk
   VIII.  The Plot is Discovered
     IX.  I Meet with an Exciting Adventure
      X.  Pillot to the Rescue
     XI.  A Scheme that Went Amiss
    XII.  I have a Narrow Escape
   XIII.  I again Encounter Maubranne
    XIV.  I Fall into a Trap
     XV.  Under Watch and Ward
    XVI.  I become a Prisoner of the Bastille
   XVII.  Free!
  XVIII.  The Fight on the Staircase
    XIX.  I Lose all Trace of Henri
     XX.  News at Last
    XXI.  The Death of Henri
   XXII.  The Mob Rises
  XXIII.  The Ladies Leave Paris
   XXIV.  Captain Courcy Outwitted
    XXV.  I Miss a Grand Opportunity
   XXVI.  "Vive le Roi!"
  XXVII.  The King Visits Raoul
 XXVIII.  "Remember the Porte St. Antoine"
   XXIX.  Mazarin Triumphant



Illustrations


"The air was filled with the clatter of steel."

"The nobleman caught and fixed him."

"Keep this in remembrance of this day."


[Transcriber's notes:

Gaps in the source book's page numbering indicate that four
illustrations were missing.  Physical damage seems to indicate that the
frontispiece may also have been missing.  Since there was no list of
illustrations in the book, it is not known what their captions were.
Short transcriber's notes indicate the locations of the missing
illustrations.]




CHAPTER I.

I Go to Paris.

"Let the boy go to Paris," exclaimed our guest, Roland Belloc.  "I
warrant he'll find a path that will lead him to fortune."

"He is young," said my father doubtfully.

"He will be killed," cried my mother, while I stood upright against the
wall and looked at Roland gratefully.

It was in 1650, in the days of the Regency, and all France was in an
uproar.  Our most gracious monarch, Louis XIV., was then a boy of
twelve, and his Queen-Mother, Anne of Austria, ruled the country.  She
had a host of enemies, and only one friend, Cardinal Mazarin, a wily
Italian priest, who was perhaps the actual master of France.

Roland Belloc, who was the Cardinal's man, had been staying for a day
or two in my father's company.  He was a real soldier of fortune,
strong as a bull, a fine swordsman, and afraid of no man living.  He
told us many startling tales of Paris.

According to him, everything in the city, from the throne to the
gutter, was in a state of unrest: no man knew what an hour would bring
forth.  One day people feasted and sang and danced in feverish
merriment: the next the barricades were up, and the denizens of the
filthy courts and alleys, eager for pillage, swarmed into the light.

"Mazarin is like a wild boar," said he, "with a pack of hounds baying
round him.  There is the Duke of Orleans, the king's uncle, who snaps
and runs away; Conde is waiting to get a good bite; while the priest,
De Retz, is the most mischievous of all."

"It is almost as bad as war," said my father.

"It is war, and nothing else.  But," with a laugh, "the green scarf of
Mazarin will be uppermost at the finish.  What do you say, Albert?  Are
you willing to don the Cardinal's colours?"

"I know little of these things, monsieur, but my sympathies are for the
Queen-Mother."

"Of course they are!" cried he, giving me a resounding slap on the
back; "so are mine, but Anne of Austria would never hold her own
without the Cardinal.  Come, De Lalande, let the youngster go.  You
will not regret it, I promise.  He may not get Vancey back, but there
are other estates to be won by a strong arm.  Shake yourself, boy, and
come out into the daylight.  You are moping here like a barn-owl."

"The simile is good, Roland, for he lives in a barn.  If I thought----"

"If you thought!  Why, man, there is no thinking in it; the thing is as
plain as the Castle yonder from the bridge over the river.  He is a
strapping lad, and knows how to handle a sword I'll warrant.  Eh,
Albert?  What will he do here?  Take root and grow into a turnip as
likely as not.  Pah!  I have no patience with you stay-at-home folks.
Look at his cousin Henri!"

"Henri is two years older."

"Ay, he has the advantage there, but Albert's as well grown, and
better.  Henri is a young scamp, too, I admit, but he is making a name
already.  He is hand in glove with De Retz."

"Albert belongs to the elder branch of the family," said my mother
stiffly, and the soldier was going to make answer but thought better of
it.

"It is kind of you to show such interest in the lad," remarked my
father presently, "and we will consider the matter."

"As you please, old friend.  Follow your own judgment, but should he
take it into his head to wear the green scarf, let him inquire at the
Palais Royal for Roland Belloc."

That night, after our guest rode away, I lay awake a long time thinking
over his words.  The prospect held out by him seemed to be an answer to
my dreams.  For many years now the fortunes of the elder branch of the
De Lalande family had sunk lower and lower.  My grandfather had been
stripped of vast estates because he would not change his opinions to
suit the times, and my father had been, as most folks thought it,
equally foolish.

Unhappily, he never by any chance espoused the winning side.  His house
was a "Camp of Refuge" for broken men of every party, who never sued
for relief in vain.  The poor and infirm, the blind, the halt, and the
maimed, for twenty miles around, were his family, and he never wearied
of giving, till, of all our original possessions, one poor farm and
homestead alone remained.

The splendid mansion of Vancey, which my grandfather had owned, now
belonged to Baron Maubranne, and was often filled with a glittering
throng from Paris.  Occasionally my cousin Henri made one of the party,
and I could not help reflecting somewhat bitterly on the difference
between us.

He was two years my senior, though I was as tall as he, and more than
his equal in strength.  But he was handsomely dressed and in the newest
fashion, while I went about in a dingy suit that was not far from
threadbare.  I never envied Henri, mind you, or thought the worse of
him, because his father had prospered in the world, but it was seeing
him, that, in the first place, led me to build my castles in the air.

My one idea in those days was to obtain possession of Vancey, where the
De Lalandes had lived and died for centuries.  How it was to be done I
had not the least notion, and I never spoke of it to others; but
Roland's talk set me thinking.

His advice seemed good.  I must go to Paris and take service with some
prominent man.  I would serve him faithfully; he would advance my
interests, and in the course of time I might save sufficient money to
purchase the family estate, whither I would remove my mother and father
that they might pass the end of their days in peace.  That was the
dream which the soldier's words had started afresh.

My father would have let me go willingly enough, but my dear mother,
who had never seen the capital, feared for my welfare.

"This Paris," said she, "is a wicked place, full of snares and pitfalls
for young and old.  Rest content where you are, my son, and be not
eager to rush into temptation.  I think not so much of bodily peril as
of danger to the soul."

"Albert is a gentleman," said my father, "and the son of a gentleman:
he will do nothing dishonourable."

Perhaps after all I should never have left home, but for an incident
which happened a few days after Belloc's departure.  One evening I had
wandered across the meadows skirting the river, and, busy with my
thoughts, had unconsciously strayed into the private grounds at Vancey.
The voices of men in earnest conversation broke my dream, and I found
myself at the back of a pleasant arbour.

"It is far too risky," said one.  "Let De Retz find his tools
elsewhere.  If the plot fails----"

"Pshaw!" exclaimed another, "it can't fail.  I tell you De Retz has
spread his net so carefully that we are certain to land the big fish."

Unwilling to pry into other people's secrets, I was turning back when
the speakers, hearing the noise, rushed from the arbour, with their
swords half drawn.  One was the owner of the chateau: the other my
cousin Henri.

"What beggar's brat is this?" cried Maubranne.  "Off to your kennel,
you rascal, and stay there till I send my servants to whip you."

"Why, 'tis my cousin," said Henri, in surprise.

"How came you here, Albert?  These are private grounds."

"Yes," I answered bitterly, "and once they belonged to your grandfather
and mine."

"Faith," laughed he carelessly, "he should have taken better care of
them.  How long have you been here?"

"A few minutes.  Do not be afraid; I learned none of your business."

"If I thought you had," growled Maubranne suspiciously, "you should
never leave the place.  _Peste!_ it wouldn't be a bad idea to keep you
as it is; you would be back under your own roof," and he ended with a
brutal laugh.

"Perhaps I shall be some day; less likely things than that have
happened."

At this he laughed again, and bidding me take myself off his land,
turned back to the arbour.

The next morning, as I stood on the rustic bridge which spans the
stream near Vancey, Henri came to join me.  This was an unexpected
honour, but he soon made the reason of it plain.

"Perhaps it is no business of mine," said he, "but I have come with a
warning.  You have made an enemy of Maubranne."

"Then we are quits," I laughed, "as I have no love for him."

"He thinks you played the spy upon him!"

"Has he sent you to find out?" I asked hotly.

"No, no; but the truth is, the situation is rather awkward.  You may
have heard something which Maubranne would not wish repeated."

"I heard you say that De Retz was going to land a big fish and that he
wanted the baron's assistance.  What was meant I do not know, except
that there is some conspiracy afoot."

"I believe you, cousin," said Henri, "but Maubranne won't, and if
anything goes wrong he will not spare you."

"Thanks," said I lightly; "but I can take care of myself.  I have not
lived at Court, but my father has taught me the use of the sword."

"Why," cried Henri laughing, "you are a regular fire-eater, but make no
mistake, you will stand no chance with Maubranne.  There are twenty
stout fellows yonder ready to do whatever they are told, and to ask no
questions.  I bear you no particular love, cousin, but I wish you no
ill, and will give you a piece of advice.  Attach yourself to some
nobleman who will look after you; Maubranne will think twice before
harming a follower of Conde or Orleans."

"Or De Retz."

"Ah," said he, "to be quite frank, I don't wish you to join De Retz.
Relatives are best apart.  However, I have given you my advice; it is
for you to act on it or not, as you think best."

That night in a long talk with my father I related the whole incident,
and repeated Henri's words.

"Your cousin is right," he said thoughtfully.  "Now that you have
stirred up Maubranne's suspicions this is no place for you.  The best
thing is to accept Belloc's offer, though 'twill be a dreary life for
you, alone in Paris."

"Belloc will stand by me, and Raoul Beauchamp is somewhere in the
capital.  He told me months ago that I can always get news of him at La
Boule d'Or in the Rue de Roi."

"He is a fine fellow," said my father, "and his friendship is worth
cultivating.  But you must walk warily, Albert, and keep your eyes
open.  Unfortunately my purse is nearly empty, but I daresay that from
time to time I shall be able to send you a little money."

My mother wept bitterly when she heard of the decision, but after a
while she became more reconciled, and helped to pack my few things.

On the morning of my departure we sat down in very low spirits.
Pierre, our faithful old servant, had prepared a simple meal, but no
one seemed inclined to eat.  At last we made an end of the pretence,
and went to the door.  "God keep you, my son," exclaimed my mother,
embracing me; "I shall pray for you always."

"Remember you are a De Lalande," said my father proudly, "and do
nothing that will disgrace your name."

I kissed them both, and, walking to the gate, passed through.  Outside
stood Pierre, who waited to wish me farewell.

"Adieu, Pierre," I cried, trying to speak gaily.  "Look after the old
place till my return."

The honest fellow's tears fell on my hand as he raised it to his lips
and said, "Adieu, Monsieur Albert.  May the good God bring you back
safe and sound.  Three generations, grandsire, sire, and son, I have
seen, and evil days have come upon them all."

"Cheer up, my trusty Pierre!  Keep a good heart.  What a De Lalande has
done I can do, and by God's help I will yet restore the fortunes of our
house.  Good-bye!" and I turned my face resolutely towards Paris.

Once only I looked back, and that was to steal a last glance at the old
home.  On my left lay the pleasant meadows with the silvery stream; on
my right the woods and spires of Vancey, and in the distance the
white-roofed farm-house, the only remnant of his property which my
father could now call his own.

"He shall have it all again," I said, half aloud, and then blushed at
my folly.  What could I, who was hardly more than a mere boy, do?
Nothing, it seemed, and yet I did not altogether despair.

Once more I turned, and, following the high road, plodded along
steadily.  It was the market-day at Reves, and the little town was
filled with people, peasants and farmers mostly, though here and there
a gaily-dressed gallant swaggered by, while the seat outside the
principal inn was occupied by half-a-dozen soldiers.

In the market-place I was stopped by more than one acquaintance, with
whom I laughed and jested for a few moments.  A mile or so from the
town I sat down by the wayside and began to eat the food which Pierre
had put in my valise.

It is not necessary to recount the various stages of my journey.
Sometimes with company not of the choicest, but more often alone, I
trudged along, sleeping at night in shed or outhouse, so as to hoard my
scanty stock of money.  My shabby clothes, and perhaps the sight of my
sword, saved me from being robbed, and, indeed, thieves would have
gained no rich booty.  A sharp sword and a lean purse are not ill
friends to travel with on occasion.

It was afternoon when I reached Paris, and inquired my way to the
Palais Royal.  The man, a well-to-do shopkeeper, looked curiously at my
shabby cloak, but directed me civilly enough.

"Monsieur is perhaps a friend of the Cardinal?" said he, as I thanked
him.

"It may be," I answered; "though it is hard to tell as yet."

"Ah!" he exclaimed.  "Monsieur, though young, is prudent, and knows how
to keep his own counsel.  Monsieur is from the country?"

"Well," said I, laughing, "that question hardly needs answering."

The fellow evidently intended to speak again, but thought better of it,
and contented himself with staring at me very hard.  In the next street
a man stopped me, and started a long rigmarole, but I pushed him aside
and went on.

At the gate of the Palais Royal my courage oozed out at my finger ends,
and I walked about for half an hour before mustering sufficient
resolution to address one of the sentries posted at the gate.

"M. Belloc?" he said.  "What do you want of him?"

"I will tell him when I see him."

"_Merci!_" he exclaimed