



Produced by Charles Bowen, from page scans provided by the
Web Archive (New York Public Library)











Transcriber's Notes:

   1. Page scan source:
      http://www.archive.org/details/snowball00weymgoog
      (New York Public Library)






[Illustration: FLUNG A SNOWBALL AT ME. _Page 11_.]






                             THE SNOWBALL




                                  BY

                          STANLEY J. WEYMAN

              AUTHOR OF "A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE," "UNDER
                   THE RED ROBE," "MY LADY ROTHA,"
                              ETC. ETC.




                             ILLUSTRATED






                               NEW YORK
                         THE MERRIAM COMPANY
                           67 Fifth Avenue






                         Copyright, 1895, by
                         THE MERRIAM COMPANY






                        LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

                              *   *   *


   Flung a snowball at me. _Frontispiece_.

   He dropped his napkin.

   "Your scribe might do for me."

   She sprang forward.

   It was the king.

   "Are you coming out there?"






                              MERRIAM'S

                            VIOLET SERIES.

                              *   *   *

                Illustrated, Square 32mo, Cloth, 40c.

                              *   *   *


     No. 6

      I.--A Man and His Model. By Anthony Hope.

     II.--The Body-Snatcher. By Robert Louis Stevenson.

    III.--The Silence of the Maharajah. By Marie Corelli.

     IV.--Some Good Intentions and a Blunder.

      V.--After To-Morrow. By the Author of "The Green Carnation."

     VI.--The Snowball. By Stanley J. Weyman.


                              *   *   *
                    OTHER VOLUMES IN PREPARATION.
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                            THE SNOWBALL.


The slight indisposition from which the Queen suffered in the spring
of 1602, and which was occasioned by a cold caught during her
lying-in, by diverting the King's attention from matters of State, had
the effect of doubling the burden cast on my shoulders. Though the
main threads of M. de Biron's conspiracy were in our hands as early as
the month of November of the preceding year, and steps had been
immediately taken to sound the chief associates by summoning them to
court, an interval necessarily followed during which we had everything
to fear; and this not only from the despair of the guilty, but from
the timidity of the innocent who, in a court filled with cabals and
rumors of intrigues, might see no way to clear themselves. Even the
shows and interludes which followed the Dauphin's birth, and made that
Christmas remarkable, served only to amuse the idle; they could not
disperse the cloud which hung over the Louvre, nor divert those who,
on the one side or the other, had aught to fear.

In connection with this period of suspense I recall an episode, both
characteristic in itself, and worthy, I think, by reason of its
oddity, to be set down here; where it may serve for a preface to those
more serious events, attending the trial and execution of M. de Biron,
which I shall have presently to relate.

I had occasion, about the end of the month of January, to see M. du
Hallot. The weather was cold, and partly for that reason, partly from
a desire to keep my visit, which had to do with La Fin's disclosures,
from the general eye, I chose to go on foot. For the same reason I
took with me only two armed servants, and a confidential page, the son
of my friend Arnaud. M. du Hallot, who lived at this time in a house
in the Faubourg St. Germain, not far from the College of France,
detained me long, and when I rose to leave insisted that I should take
his coach, as snow had begun to fall and already lay an inch deep in
the streets. At first I was unwilling to do this, but reflecting that
such small services are highly appreciated by those who render them,
and attach men more surely and subtly than the greatest bribes, I
finally consented, and, taking my place with some becoming
expressions, bade young Arnaud find his way home on foot.

The coach had nearly reached the south end of the Pont au Change, when
a number of youths ran by me, pelting one another with snowballs, and
shouting so lustily that I was at a loss which to admire more--the
silence of their feet or the loudness of their voices. Aware that lads
of that age are small respecters of persons, I was not surprised to
see two or three of them rush on to the bridge before us, and even
continue their Parthian warfare under the very feet of the horses. The
result was, however, that the latter presently took fright at that
part of the bridge where the houses encroach most boldly on the
roadway; and, but for the care of the running footman, who hastened to
their heads, might have done some harm either to the coach or the
passersby.

As it was, we were brought to a stop while one of the wheels was
extricated from the kennel, into which it had become wedged. Smiling
to think what the King--for he, strangely warned by Providence, was
all his life long timid in a coach--would have said to this, I went to
open the curtains, and had just effected this to a certain extent,
when one of a crowd of idlers who stood on the raised pavement beside
us deliberately lifted up his arm and flung a snowball at me.

The missile flew wide of its mark by an inch or two only. That I was
amazed at such audacity goes without saying, but in my doubt of what
it might be the prelude--for the breakdown of the coach in that narrow
place, the haunt of the rufflers and vagrants of every kind, might be
a part of a concerted plan--I fell back into my place. The coach, as
it happened, moved on with a jerk at the same moment; and before I had
well digested the matter, or had time to mark the demeanor of the
crowd, we were clear of the bridge and rolling past the Chatelet.

A smaller man might have stopped to revenge, and to cook a sprat have
passed all Paris through the net. But remembering my own youthful
days, when I attended the College of Burgundy, I set down the freak to
the insolence of some young student, and, shrugging my shoulders,
dismissed it from my thoughts. An instant later, however, observing
that the fragments of the snowball were melting on the seat by my side
and wetting the cushion, I raised my hand to brush them away. In the
act I saw, to my surprise, a piece of paper lying among the _debris_.

"Ho, ho!" said I to myself. "This is a strange snowball! I have heard
that the apprentices put stones in theirs. But paper! Let me see what
this means."

The morsel, though moistened by contact with the snow, remained
intact. Unfolding it with the greatest care--for already I began to
discern that here was something out of the common--I found written on
the inner side, in a clear, clerkly hand, the words, "_Beware of
Nicholas!_"

It will be remembered that Simon Nicholas was at this time secretary
to the King, and so high in his favor as to be admitted to the
knowledge of all but his most private affairs. Gay, and of a very
jovial wit, he was able to commend himself to Henry by amusing him;
while his years, for he was over sixty, seemed some warranty for his
discretion, and at the same time gave younger sinners a feeling of
superior worth, since they might repent and he had not. Often in
contact with him, I had always found him equal to his duties, and
though too fond of the table and of all the good things of this life,
neither given to babbling nor boasting. In a word, one for whom I had
more liking than respect.

A man in his position, however, possesses such stupendous
opportunities for evil that, as I read the warning so cunningly
conveyed to me, I sat aghast. His office gave him at all times that
ready access to the King's person which is the aim of conspirators
against the lives of sovereigns; and, short of this supreme treachery,
he was master of secrets which Biron's associates would give all to
gain. When I add that I knew Nicholas to be a man of extravagant
habits and careless life, and one, moreover, who, if rumor did not
wrong him, had lost much in that rearrangement of the finances which I
had lately effected without even the King's privity, it will be seen
that those words, "Beware of Nicholas," were calculated to occasion me
the most profound thought.

Of the person who had conveyed the missive to me I had unfortunately
seen nothing; though I believed him to be a man, and young. But the
circumstances, which seemed to indicate the extreme need of secrecy,
gave me a hint as to my own conduct. Accordingly, I smoothed my brow,
and on the coach stopping at the Arsenal descended with my usual face
of preoccupation.

At the foot of the staircase my _maitre-d'-hotel_ met me.

"M. Nicholas, the King's secretary, is here," he said. "He has been
waiting your return an hour and more, Monseigneur."

"Lay another cover," I answered, repressing the surprise I could not
but feel on hearing of this visit, so strangely _a propos_. "Doubtless
he has come to dine with me."

Barely staying to take off my cloak, I went upstairs with an air as
gay as possible, and, making my visitor a hundred apologies for the
inconvenience I had caused him, insisted he should sit down with me.
This he was nothing loth to do; though, as presently appeared, his
errand was only to submit to me some papers connected with the new tax
of a penny in the shilling, which it was his duty to lay before me.

I scolded him gayly for the long period which had elapsed since his
last visit, and succeeded so well in setting him at his ease that he
presently began to rally me on my slackness; for I could touch nothing
but a little game and a glass of water. Excusing myself as well as I
could, I encouraged him to continue the attack; and certainly, if a
good conscience waits on appetite, I had soon abundant evidence on his
behalf. He grew merry and talkative, and, telling me some free tales,
bore himself altogether so naturally that I had begun to deem my
suspicions baseless, when a chance word gave me new grounds for
entertaining them.

I was on the subject of my morning's employment. Knowing how easily
confidence begets confidence, and that in his position the matter
could not be long kept from him, I told him as a secret where I had
been.

"I do not wish all the world to know, my friend," I said; "but you are
a discreet man, and it will go no farther. I am just from Du
Hallot's."


[Illustration: HE DROPPED HIS NAPKIN. _Page 20_.]


He dropped his napkin and stooped to pick it up again with a gesture
so hasty that it caught my attention and led me to watch him.
Moreover, although my words seemed to call for an answer, he did not
speak until he had taken a deep draught of wine; and then he said
only, "Indeed!" in a tone of such indifference as might at another
time have deceived me, but now was perfectly patent.

"Yes," I replied, affecting to be engaged with my own plate (we were
eating nuts). "Doubtless you will be able to guess on what subject."

"I?" he said, as quick to answer as he had before been slow. "No, I
think not."

"La Fin," I said; "and his statements respecting M. de Biron's
friends."

"Ah!" he replied, shrugging his shoulders. He had contrived to regain
his composure, but I noticed that his hand shook, and I saw him put a
nut into his mouth with so much salt upon it that he had no choice but
to make a grimace. "They tell me he accuses everybody," he grumbled,
his eyes on his plate. "Even the King is scarcely safe from him. But I
have heard no particulars."

"They will be known by and by," I answered prudently. And after that I
did not think it wise to speak farther, lest I should give more than I
got; but as soon as he had finished, and we had washed our hands, I
led him to the closet looking on the river, where I was in the habit
of working with my secretaries. I sent them away and sat down with him
to his accounts; but in the position in which I found myself, between
suspicion and perplexity, I could so little command my attention that
I gathered nothing from their items; and had I found another doing the
King's service as negligently I had certainly sent him about his
business. Nevertheless I made some show of auditing them, and had
reached the last roll when something in the fairly written summary,
which closed the account, caught my eye. I bent more closely over it,
and presently making an occasion to carry the parchment into the next
room, compared it with the handwriting on the scrap of paper I had
found in the snowball. A brief scrutiny showed me that they were the
work of the same person!


[Illustration: "YOUR SCRIBE MIGHT DO FOR ME." _Page 23_.]


I went back to M. Nicholas, and after attesting the accounts, and
making one or two notes, remarked in a careless way on the clearness
of the hand. "I am badly in need of a fourth secretary," I added.
"Your scribe might do for me."

It did not escape me that once again M. Nicholas looked uncomfortable,
his red face taking a deeper tinge and his hand going nervously to his
pointed gray beard, "I do not think he would do for you," he answered.

"What is his name?" I asked, purposely bending over the papers and
avoiding his eyes.

"I have dismissed him," he rejoined curtly. "I do not know where he
could now be found."

"That is a pity--he writes well," I answered, as if it were nothing
but a whim that led me to pursue the subject. "And good clerks are
scarce. What was his name?"

"Felix," he said reluctantly.

I had now all I wanted. Accordingly I spoke of another matter and
shortly afterward Nicholas rose and went. But he left me in a fever of
doubt and suspicion; so that for nearly half an hour I walked up and
down the room, unable to decide whether I should treat the warning of
the snowball with contempt, as the work of a discharged servant, or on
that very account attach the more credit to it. By and by I remembered
that the last sheet of the roll I had audited bore date the previous
day; whence it was clear that Felix had been dismissed within the last
twenty-four hours, and perhaps after the delivery of his note to me.
Such a coincidence, which seemed no less pertinent than strange,
opened a wide field for conjecture; and the possibility that Nicholas
had really called on me to sound me and learn what I knew presently
occurring to my mind, brought me to a final determination to seek out
this Felix, and without the delay of an hour sift the matter to the
bottom.

Doubtless I shall seem to some to have acted precipitately, and built
much on small foundations. I answer that I had the life of the King my
master to guard, and in that cause dared neglect no precaution,
however trivial, nor any indication, however remote. Would that all my
care and vigilance had longer sufficed to preserve for France the life
of that great man! But God willed otherwise.

I sent word at