From the Memoirs of a Minister of FranceWeyman, Stanley John
General
From the Memoirs of a Minister of France
Weyman, Stanley John
Biographical fiction; France -- Kings and rulers -- Fiction; Henry IV, King of France, 1553-1610 -- Fiction
Happily, night had already begun to close in, and the rendezvous was at
the farther side of the clump of trees. Favoured by these
circumstances, we were able to pass round the thicket--some on one side
and some on the other---without noise or disturbance; and fortunate
enough, having arrived at the place, to discover a man walking uneasily
up and down on the very spot where we expected to find him. The
evening was so far advanced that it was not possible to be sure that
the man was Vilain; but as all depended on seizing him before he had
any communication with the Spanish agent, I gave the signal, and two of
my men, springing on him from either side, in a moment bore him to the
ground and secured him.
He proved to be Vilain, so that, when he was brought face to face with
me, I was much less surprised than he affected to be. He played the
part of an ignorant so well, indeed, that, for a moment, I was
staggered by his show of astonishment, and by the earnestness with
which he denounced the outrage; nor could Maignan find anything on him.
But, a moment later, remembering the girl's words, I strode to the
nearest tree, and, groping about it, in a twinkling unearthed the paper
from a little hollow in the trunk that seemed to have been made to
receive it. I need not say with what relief I found the seals
unbroken; nor with what indignation I turned on the villain thus
convicted of an act of treachery towards the King only less black than
the sin against hospitality of which he had been guilty in my house.
But the discovery I had made seemed enough of itself to overwhelm him;
for, after standing apparently stunned while I spoke, he jerked himself
suddenly out of his captors' hands, and made a desperate attempt to
escape. Finding this hopeless, and being seized again before he had
gone four paces, he shouted, at the top of his voice: "Back! back!
Go back!"
We looked about, somewhat startled, and Boisrueil, with presence of
mind, ran into the darkness to see if he could detect the person
addressed; but though he thought that he saw the skirt of a flying
cloak disappear in the gloom, he was not sure; and I, having no mind to
be mixed up with the ambassador, called him back. I asked Vilain to
whom he had called, but the young man, turning sullen, would answer
nothing except that he knew naught of the paper. I thought it best,
therefore, to conduct him at once to my lodgings, whither it will be
believed that I returned with a lighter heart than I had gone out. It
was, indeed, a providential escape.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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