"Sire, the affair is settled."
"What! is it all over?" said the king.
"Our man is in the hands of the monks. He
confessed the theft after a
touch of the 'question.'"
The
countess gave a sign, and turned pale; she could not speak, but
looked at the king. That look was observed by Saint-Vallier, who
muttered in a low tone: "I am betrayed; that thief is an acquaintance
of my wife."
"Silence!" cried the king. "Some one is here who will wear out my
patience. Go at once and put a stop to the execution," he continued,
addressing the grand provost. "You will answer with your own body for
that of the
criminal, my friend. This affair must be better sifted,
and I reserve to myself the doing of it. Set the prisoner at liberty
provisionally; I can always recover him; these robbers have retreats
they
frequent, lairs where they lurk. Let Cornelius know that I shall
be at his house to-night to begin the
inquiry myself. Monsieur de
Saint-Vallier," said the king, looking fixedly at the count, "I know
about you. All your blood could not pay for one drop of mine; do you
hear me? By our Lady of Clery! you have committed crimes of lese-
majesty. Did I give you such a pretty wife to make her pale and
weakly? Go back to your own house, and make your preparations for a
long journey."
The king stopped at these words from a habit of
cruelty; then he
added:--
"You will leave to-night to attend to my affairs with the government
of Venice. You need be under no
anxiety about your wife; I shall take
charge of her at Plessis; she will certainly be safe here. Henceforth
I shall watch over her with greater care than I have done since I
married her to you."
Hearing these words, Marie
silently pressed her father's arm as if to
thank him for his mercy and
goodness. As for Louis XI., he was
laughing to himself in his sleeve.
CHAPTER IV
THE HIDDEN TREASURE
Louis XI. was fond of intervening in the affairs of his subjects, and
he was always ready to
mingle his royal
majesty with the
burgher life.
This taste,
severely blamed by some historians, was really only a
passion for the "incognito," one of the greatest pleasures of princes,
--a sort of
momentary abdication, which enables them to put a little
real life into their
existence, made insipid by the lack of
opposition. Louis XI., however, played the incognito
openly. On these
occasions he was always the good fellow, endeavoring to please the
people of the middle classes, whom he made his
allies against
feudality. For some time past he had found no opportunity to "make
himself populace" and
espouse the
domestic interests of some man
"engarrie" (an old word still used in Tours, meaning engaged) in
litigious affairs, so that he shouldered the anxieties of Maitre
Cornelius
eagerly, and also the secret sorrows of the Comtesse de
Saint-Vallier. Several times during dinner he said to his daughter:--
"Who, think you, could have robbed my silversmith? The robberies now
amount to over twelve hundred thousand crowns in eight years. Twelve
hundred thousand crowns, messieurs!" he continued, looking at the
seigneurs who were serving him. "Notre Dame! with a sum like that what
absolutions could be bought in Rome! And I might, Pasques-Dieu! bank
the Loire, or, better still,
conquer Piedmont, a fine fortification
ready-made for this kingdom."
When dinner was over, Louis XI. took his daughter, his doctor, and the
grand provost, with an
escort of soldiers, and rode to the hotel de
Poitiers in Tours, where he found, as he expected, the Comte de Saint-
Vallier a
waiting his wife, perhaps to make away with her life.
"Monsieur," said the king, "I told you to start at once. Say farewell
to your wife now, and go to the
frontier; you will be accompanied by
an
escort of honor. As for your instructions and credentials, they
will be in Venice before you get there."
Louis then gave the order--not without adding certain secret
instructions--to a
lieutenant of the Scottish guard to take a squad of
men and accompany the
ambassador to Venice. Saint-Vallier
departed in
haste, after giving his wife a cold kiss which he would fain have made
deadly. Louis XI. then crossed over to the Malemaison, eager to begin
the unravelling of the
melancholycomedy,
lasting now for eight years,
in the house of his silversmith;
flattering himself that, in his
quality of king, he had enough penetration to discover the secret of
the robberies. Cornelius did not see the
arrival of the
escort of his
royal master without
uneasiness.