“The war will not only be approved of, but directed by the church. As for the remission of your sins, we have the archbishop of Paris, who has the very greatest power at the court of Rome, and even the coadjutor, who possesses some plenary indulgences; we will recommend you to him.”
“Consider, Maillard,” said the curate, “that I have recommended you to this gentleman, who is a powerful lord, and that I have made myself responsible for you.”
“I know, Monsieur le Curé,” said the beggar, “that you have always been very kind to me, and therefore I, in my turn, will be serviceable to you.”
“And do you think your power as great with the fraternity as Monsieur le Curé told me it was just now?”
“I think they have some esteem for me,” said the mendicant with pride, “and that not only will they obey me, but wherever I go they will follow me.”
“And could you count on fifty resolute men, good, unemployed, but active souls, brawlers, capable of bringing down the walls of the Palais Royal by crying, ‘Down with Mazarin,’ as fell those at Jericho?”
“I think,” said the beggar, “I can undertake things more difficult and more important than that.”
“Ah, ah,” said Gondy, “you will undertake, then, some night, to throw up some ten barricades?”
“I will undertake to throw up fifty, and when the day comes, to defend them.”
“I’faith!” exclaimed Gondy, “you speak with a certainty that gives me pleasure; and since Monsieur le Curé can answer for you—”
“I answer for him,” said the curate.
“Here is a bag containing five hundred pistoles in gold; make all your arrangements, and tell me where I shall be able to find you this evening at ten o’clock.”
“It must be on some elevated place, whence a given signal may be seen in every part of Paris.”
“Shall I give you a line for the vicar of St. Jacques de la Boucherie? he will let you into the rooms in his tower,” said the curate.
“Capital,” answered the mendicant.
“Then,” said the coadjutor, “this evening, at ten o’clock, and if I am pleased with you another bag of five hundred pistoles will be at your disposal.”
The eyes of the mendicant dashed with cupidity, but he quickly suppressed his emotion.
“This evening, sir,” he replied, “all will be ready.”
XLVI
The Tower of St. Jacques de la Boucherie
At a quarter to six o’clock, Monsieur de Gondy, having finished his business, returned to the archiepiscopal palace.
At six o’clock the curate of St. Merri was announced.
The coadjutor glanced rapidly behind and saw that he was followed by another man. The curate then entered, followed by Planchet.
“Your holiness,” said the curate, “here is the person of whom I had the honor to speak to you.”
Planchet saluted in the manner of one accustomed to fine houses.
“And you are disposed to serve the cause of the people?” asked Gondy.
“Most undoubtedly,” said Planchet. “I am a Frondist from my heart. You see in me, such as I am, a person sentenced to be hung.”
“And on what account?”
“I rescued from the hands of Mazarin’s police a noble lord whom they were conducting back to the Bastille, where he had been for five years.”
“Will you name him?”
“Oh, you know him well, my lord—it is Count de Rochefort.”
“Ah! really, yes,” said the coadjutor, “I have heard this affair mentioned. You raised the whole district, so they told me!”
“Very nearly,” replied Planchet, with a self-satisfied air.
“And your business is—”
“That of a confectioner, in the Rue des Lombards.”
“Explain to me how it happens that, following so peaceful a business, you had such warlike inclinations.”
“Why does my lord, belonging to the church, now receive me in the dress of an officer, with a sword at his side and spurs to his boots?”
“Not badly answered, i’faith,” said Gondy, laughing; “but I have, you must know, always had, in spite of my bands, warlike inclinations.”
“Well, my lord, before I became a confectioner I myself was three years sergeant in the Piedmontese regiment, and before I became sergeant I was for eighteen months the servant of Monsieur d’Artagnan.”
“The lieutenant of Musketeers?” asked Gondy.
“Himself, my lord.”
“But he is said to be a furious Mazarinist.”
“Phew!” whistled Planchet.
“What do you mean by that?”
“Nothing, my lord; Monsieur d’Artagnan belongs to the service; Monsieur d’Artagnan makes it his business to defend the cardinal, who pays him, as much as we make it ours, we citizens, to attack him, whom he robs.”
“You are an intelligent fellow, my friend; can we count upon you?”
“You may count upon me, my lord, provided you want to make a complete upheaval of the city.”
“ ’Tis that exactly. How many men, think you, you could collect together tonight?”
“Two hundred muskets and five hundred halberds.”
“Let there be only one man in every district who can do as much and by tomorrow we shall have quite a powerful army. Are you disposed to obey Count de Rochefort?”
“I would follow him to hell, and that is saying not a little, as I believe him entirely capable of the descent.”
“Bravo!”
“By what sign tomorrow shall we be able to distinguish friends from foes?”
“Every Frondist must put a knot of straw in his hat.”
“Good! Give the watchword.”
“Do you want money?”
“Money never comes amiss at any time, my lord; if one has it not, one must do without it; with it, matters go on much better and more rapidly.”
Gondy went to a box and drew forth a bag.
“Here are five hundred pistoles,” he said; “and if the action goes off well you may reckon upon a similar sum tomorrow.”
“I will give a faithful account of the sum to your lordship,” said Planchet, putting the bag under his arm.
“That is right; I recommend the cardinal to your attention.”
“Make your mind easy, he is in good hands.”
Planchet went out, the curate remaining for a moment.
“Are you satisfied, my lord?” he asked.
“Yes; he appears to be a resolute fellow.”
“Well, he will do more than he has promised.”
“He will do wonders then.”
The curate rejoined Planchet, who
