List Of Contents | Contents of St. Martin's Summer, by Rafael Sabatini
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they do against a fortress such as Condillac?  Monsieur deludes
himself.  If they resist, you'll need ten times that number to
bring them to their senses.  They are well victualled; they have
an excellent water-supply.  My friend, they would just draw up the
bridge, and laugh at you and your soldiers from the ramparts."

Garnache looked at him from under lowering brows.  But for all his
mistrust of the man - a mistrust most excellently founded - he was
forced to confess that there was wisdom in what Tressan said.

"I'll sit down and besiege them if need be," he announced.

Again the Seneschal wagged his head.  "You would have to be prepared
to spend your winter there in that case, and it can be cold in the
valley of Isere.  Their garrison is small - some twenty men at most;
but it is sufficient for their defence, and not too many mouths to
feed.  No, no, monsieur, if you would win your way by force you must
count upon more than ten score men."

And now a flash of inspiration helped Tressan.  It was his aim, as
we know, to run with the hare and hunt with the hounds.  Break with
Madame de Condillac his foolish hopeful heart would not permit him.
Break with this man, who personified authority and the King, he
dared not.  He had sought - and it had given him much to do - to
steer a middle course, serving the Dowager and appearing not to
withstand the Parisian.  Now it almost seemed to him as if he were
come to an impasse beyond which he could no longer pursue that
course, but must halt and declare his side.  But the notion that
now occurred to him helped him to win through this difficulty.  For
Madame de Condillac's schemes he cared not a jot; whether they came
safe to harbour or suffered shipwreck on the way was all one to him;
whether Valerie de La Vauvraye married Marius de Condillac or the
meanest cobbler in Grenoble was, similarly, a matter that never
disturbed his mind.  He would not even be concerned if he, himself,
were to help the Dowager's schemes to frustration, so long as she
were to remain in ignorance of his defection, so long as outwardly
he were to appear faithful to her interests.

"Monsieur," said he gravely, "the only course that promises you
success is to return to Paris, and, raising sufficient men, with
guns and other modern siege appliances such as we possess not here,
come back and batter down the walls of Condillac."

There the Seneschal spoke good sense.  Garnache realized it, so much
so that he almost began to doubt whether he had not done the man an
injustice in believing him allied to the other party.  But, however
fully he might perceive the wisdom of the advice, such a step was
one that must wound his pride, must be an acknowledgment that his
own resources, upon which the Queen had relied when she sent him
single-handed to deal with this situation, had proved insufficient.

He took a turn in the apartment without answering, tugging at his
mustachios and pondering the situation what time the Seneschal
furtively watched him in the candle-light.  At last he came abruptly
to a standstill by the Seneschal's writing-table, immediately
opposite Tressan.  His hand fell to his side, his eyes took on a
look of determination.

"As a last resource your good advice may guide me, Monsieur le
Seneschal," said he.  "But first I'll see what can be done with
such men as you have here."

"But I have no men," answered Tressan, dismayed to see the failure
of his effort.

Garnache stared at him in an unbelief that was fast growing to
suspicion.  "No men?" he echoed dully.  "No men?"

"I might muster a score - no more than that."

"But, monsieur, it is within my knowledge that you have at least
two hundred.  I saw at least some fifty drawn up in the courtyard
below here yesterday morning."

"I had them, monsieur," the Seneschal made haste to cry, his hands
upheld, his body leaning forward over his table.  "I had them.  But,
unfortunately, certain disturbances in the neighbourhood of
Montelimar have forced me to part with them.  They were on the point
of setting out when you saw them."

Garnache looked at him a moment without speaking.  Then, sharply:

"They must be recalled, monsieur," said he.

And now the Seneschal took refuge in a fine pretence of indignation.

"Recalled?" he cried, and besides indignation there was some horror
in his voice.  "Recalled?  And for what?  That they may assist you
in obtaining charge of a wretched girl who is so headstrong as to
wish to marry other than her guardians have determined.  A pretty
affair that, as God's my life!  And for the adjustment of such a
family dispute as this, a whole province is to go to ruin, a
conflagration of rebellion is to spread unquenched?  On my soul,
sir, I begin to think that this mission of yours has served to turn
your head.  You begin to see it out of all proportion to its size."

"Monsieur, it may have turned my head, or it may not; but I shall
not be amazed if in the end it be the means of losing you yours.
Tell me now: What is the disturbance you speak of in Montelimar?"
That was a question all Tressan's ingenuity could not answer.

"What affair is it of yours?" he demanded.  "Are you Seneschal of
Dauphiny, or am I?  If I tell you that there is a disturbance, let
that suffice.  In quelling it I do but attend to my own business.
Do you attend to yours - which seems to be that of meddling in
women's matters."

This was too much.  There was such odious truth in it that the
iron sank deep into Garnache's soul.  The very reflection that
such a business should indeed be his, was of itself enough to put
him in a rage, without having it cast in his teeth as Tressan had
none too delicately done.

He stormed and raged; he waved his arms and thumped the table, and
talked of cutting men to ribbons - among which men no doubt he
counted my Lord the Seneschal of Dauphiny.  But from the storm of
fierce invective, of threats and promises with which he filled the
air, the Seneschal gathered with satisfaction the one clear
statement that he would take his advice.

"I'll do as you say," Garnache had ended.  "I'll get me back to
Paris as fast as horse can carry me.  When I return woe betide
Condillac!  And I shall send my emissaries into the district of
Montelimar to inquire into these disturbances you tell of.  Woe
betide you if they find the country quiet.  You shall pay a heavy
price for having dispatched your soldiers thither to the end that
they might not be here to further the Queen's business."

With that he caught up his rain-sodden hat, flung it on his head,
and stalked out of the room, and, so, out of the Palace.

He left Grenoble next morning, and it was a very tame and
crestfallen Garnache who quitted the Auberge du Veau qui Tete and
rode out of the town to take the road to Paris.  How they would
laugh at him at the Luxembourg!  Not even an affair of this kind
was he fit to carry through; not even as a meddler in women's
matters as Tressan had called him - could he achieve success.
Rabecque, reflecting his master's mood - as becomes a good lackey
 - rode silent and gloomy a pace or two in the rear.

By noon they had reached Voiron, and here, at a quiet hostelry,
they descended to pause awhile for rest and refreshment.  It was a
chill, blustering day, and although the rain held off, the heavens
were black with the promise of more to come.  There was a fire
burning in the general-room of the hostelry, and Garnache went to
warm him at its cheerful blaze.  Moodily he stood there, one hand
on the high mantel shelf, one foot upon an andiron, his eyes upon
the flames.

He was disconsolately considering his position; considering how
utterly, how irrevocably he had failed; pondering the gibes he
would have to stomach on his return to Paris, the ridicule it
would incumb him to live down.  It had been a fine thing to
breathe fire and blood and vengeance to Tressan yesterday, to tell
him of the great deeds he would perform on his return.  It was odds
he never would return.  They would send another in his place, if
indeed they sent at all.  For, after all, before he could reach
Paris and the force required be in Dauphiny, a fortnight must
elapse, let them travel never so quickly.  By that time they must
be singularly sluggish at Condillac if they did not so contrive
that no aid that came should come in time for mademoiselle, now that
they were warned that the Queen was stirring in the matter.

Oh! he had blundered it all most cursedly.  Had he but kept his
temper yesterday at Grenoble; had he but had the wit to thwart their
plans, by preserving an unruffled front to insult, he might have won
through and carried mademoiselle out of their hands.  As it was - !
he let his arms fall to his sides in his miserable despair.

"Your wine, monsieur," said Rabecque at his elbow.  He turned, and
took the cup of mulled drink from his servant.  The beverage warmed
him in body; but it would need a butt of it to thaw the misery from
his soul.

"Rabecque," he said with a pathetic grimness, "I think I am the most
cursed blunderer that ever was entrusted with an errand."

The thing so obsessed his mind that he must speak of it, if it be
only to his lackey.  Rabecque's sharp face assumed a chastened look.
He sighed most dutifully.  He sought for words of consolation.  At

"At least, monsieur has made them fear him up there at Condillac,"
said he.

"Fear me?" laughed Garnache.  "Pish! Deride me, you would say."

"Fear you, I repeat, monsieur.  Else why are they at such pains
to strengthen the garrison?"

"Eh?" he questioned.  But his tone was not greatly interested.  "Are
they doing that?  Are they strengthening it?  How know you?"

"I had it from the ostler at the Veau qui Tete that a certain
Captain Fortunio - an Italian soldier of fortune who commands the
men at Condillac - was at the Auberge de France last night, offering
wine to whomsoever would drink with him, and paying for it out of
Madame la Marquise's purse.  To such as accepted his hospitality he
talked of the glory of a military career, particularly a free-lance's;
and to those who showed interest in what he said he offered a pike
in his company."

"Enrolled he many, did you learn?"

"Not one, monsieur, the ostler told me; and it seems he spent the
evening watching him weave his spider's web.  But the flies were
over-wary.  They knew whence he came; they knew the business for
which he desired to enrol them - for a rumour had gone round that
Condillac was in rebellion against the Queen's commands - and there
were none so desperate at the Auberge de France as to risk their
necks by enlisting, no matter what the wage he offered."

Garnache shrugged his shoulders.  "No matter," said he.  "Get me
another cup of wine."  But as Rabecque turned away to obey him there
came a sudden gleam into the eye of Monsieur de Garnache which
lightened the depression of his countenance.



In the great hall of the Chateau de Condillac sat the Dowager, her
son, and the Lord Seneschal, in conference.

It was early in the afternoon of the last Thursday in October,
exactly a week since Monsieur de Garnache all but broken-hearted at
the failure of his mission - had departed from Grenoble.  They had
dined, and the table was still strewn with vessels and the fragments
of their meal, for the cloth had not yet been raised.  But the three
of them had left the board - the Seneschal with all that reluctance
with which he was wont to part company with the table, no matter
how perturbed in spirit he might to - and they had come to group
themselves about the great open fireplace.

A shaft of pale October sunshine entering through the gules of an
escutcheon on the mullioned windows struck a scarlet light into
silver aid glass upon the forsaken board.

Madame was speaking.  She was repeating words that she had uttered
at least twenty times a day during the past week.

"It was a madness to let that fellow go.  Had we but put him and
his servant out of the way, we should be able now to sleep tranquil
in our beds.  I know their ways at Court.  They might have marvelled
a little at first that he should tarry so long upon his errand, that
he should send them no word of its progress; but presently, seeing
him no more, he would little by little have been forgotten, and with
him the affair in which the Queen has been so cursedly ready to

"As it is, the fellow will go back hot with the outrage put upon
him; there will be some fine talk of it in Paris; it will be spoken
of as treason, as defiance of the King's Majesty, as rebellion.  The
Parliament may be moved to make outlaws of us, and the end of it
all - who shall foresee?"

"It is a long distance from Condillac to Paris, madame," said her
son, with a shrug.

"And you will find them none so ready to send soldiers all this way,
Marquise," the Seneschal comforted her.

"Bah! You make too sure of your security.  You make too sure of what
they will do, what leave undone.  Time will show, my friends; and,
mor-dieu! I am much at fault if you come not both to echo my regret
that we did not dispose of Monsieur de Garnache and his lackey when
we had then in our power."

Her eye fell with sinister promise upon Tressan, who shivered
slightly and spread his hands to the blaze, as though his shiver
had been of cold.  But Marius did not so readily grow afraid.

"Madame," he said, "at the worst we can shut our gates and fling
defiance at them.  We are well-manned, and Fortunio is seeking
fresh recruits."

"Seeking them, yes," she sneered.  "For a week has the fellow been
spending money like water, addling the brains of half Grenoble with
the best wine at the Auberge de France, yet not a single recruit
has come in, so far."

Marius laughed.  "Your pessimism leads you into rash conclusions,"
he cried.  "You are wrong.  One recruit has come in."

"One!" she echoed.  "A thousand devils!  A brave number that!  A
fine return for the river of wine with which we have washed the
stomachs of Grenoble."

"Still, it is a beginning," ventured the Seneschal.

"Aye, and, no doubt, an ending," she flashed back at him.  "And
what manner of fool may this one be, whose fortunes were so
desperate that he could throw them in with ours?"

"He is an Italian - a Piedmontese who has tramped across Savoy and
was on his way to Paris to make his fortune, when Fortunio caught
him and made it clear to him that his fortune was made for him at
Condillac.  He is a lusty, stalwart fellow, speaking no word of
French, who was drawn to Fortunio by discovering in him a

Mockery flashed from the Dowager's beautiful eyes.

"In that you have the reason of his enrolling himself.  He knew
no word of French, poor devil, so could not learn how rash his
venture was.  Could we find more such men as this one it might
be well.  But where shall we find them?  Pish! my dear Marius,
matters are little mended, nor ever will be, for the mistake we
made in allowing Garnache to go his ways."

"Madame;" again ventured Tressan, "I think that you want for

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