THE VALOIS SAGA: Queen Margot, Chicot de Jester & The Forty-Five Guardsmen (Historical Novels). Alexandre Dumas

“Where the devil are you taking us?” asked Coconnas, who was beginning to be bored by this long march from which he could see no results.

      “I am taking you on an expedition at once brilliant and useful. Next to the admiral, next to Téligny, next to the Huguenot princes, I could offer you nothing better. So have patience, our business calls us to the Rue du Chaume, and we shall be there in a second.”

      “Tell me,” said Coconnas, “is not the Rue du Chaume near the Temple?”

      “Yes, why?”

      “Because an old creditor of our family lives there, one Lambert Mercandon, to whom my father wished me to hand over a hundred rose nobles I have in my pocket for that purpose.”

      “Well,” replied Maurevel, “this is a good opportunity for paying it. This is the day for settling old accounts. Is your Mercandon a Huguenot?”

      “Oho, I understand!” said Coconnas; “he must be”—

      “Hush! here we are.”

      “What is that large hôtel, with its entrance in the street?”

      “The Hôtel de Guise.”

      “Truly,” returned Coconnas, “I should not have failed to come here, as I am under the patronage of the great Henry. But, by Heaven! all is so very quiet in this quarter, we scarcely hear any firing, and we might fancy ourselves in the country. The devil fetch me but every one is asleep!”

      And indeed the Hôtel de Guise seemed as quiet as in ordinary times. All the windows were closed, and a solitary light was burning behind the blind of the principal window over the entrance which had attracted Coconnas’s attention as soon as they entered the street.

      Just beyond the Hôtel de Guise, in other words, at the corner of the Rue du Petit Chantier and the Rue des Quatre Fils, Maurevel halted.

      “Here is the house of the man we want,” said he.

      “Of the man you want — that is to say”— observed La Hurière.

      “Since you are with me we want him.”

      “What! that house which seems so sound asleep”—

      “Exactly! La Hurière, now go and make practical use of the plausible face which heaven, by some blunder, gave you, and knock at that house. Hand your arquebuse to M. de Coconnas, who has been ogling it this last half hour. If you are admitted, you must ask to speak to Seigneur de Mouy.”

      “Aha!” exclaimed Coconnas, “now I understand — you also have a creditor in the quarter of the Temple, it would seem.”

      “Exactly so!” responded Maurevel. “You will go up to him pretending to be a Huguenot, and inform De Mouy of all that has taken place; he is brave, and will come down.”

      “And once down?” asked La Hurière.

      “Once down, I will beg of him to cross swords with me.”

      “On my soul, ’tis a fine gentleman’s,” said Coconnas, “and I propose to do exactly the same thing with Lambert Mercandon; and if he is too old to respond, I will try it with one of his sons or nephews.”

      La Hurière, without making any reply, went and knocked at the door, and the sounds echoing in the silence of the night caused the doors of the Hôtel de Guise to open, and several heads to make their appearance from out them; it was evident that the hôtel was quiet after the manner of citadels, that is to say, because it was filled with soldiers.

      The heads were almost instantly withdrawn, as doubtless an inkling of the matter in hand was divined.

      “Does your Monsieur de Mouy live here?” inquired Coconnas, pointing to the house at which La Hurière was still knocking.

      “No, but his mistress does.”

      “By Heaven! how gallant you are, to give him an occasion to draw sword in the presence of his lady-love! We shall be the judges of the field. However, I should like very well to fight myself — my shoulder burns.”

      “And your face,” added Maurevel, “is considerably damaged.”

      Coconnas uttered a kind of growl.

      “By Heaven!” he said, “I hope he is dead; if I thought not, I would return to the Louvre and finish him.”

      La Hurière still kept knocking.

      Soon the window on the first floor opened, and a man appeared in the balcony, in a nightcap and drawers, and unarmed.

      “Who’s there?” cried he.

      Maurevel made a sign to the Swiss, who retreated into a corner, whilst Coconnas stood close against the wall.

      “Ah! Monsieur de Mouy!” said the innkeeper, in his blandest tones, “is that you?”

      “Yes; what then?”

      “It is he!” said Maurevel, with a thrill of joy.

      “Why, sir,” continued La Hurière, “do you not know what is going on? They are murdering the admiral, and massacring all of our religion. Hasten to their assistance; come!”

      “Ah!” exclaimed De Mouy, “I feared something was plotted for this night. I ought not to have deserted my worthy comrades. I will come, my friend — wait for me.”

      And without closing the window, through which a frightened woman could be heard uttering lamentations and tender entreaties, Monsieur de Mouy got his doublet, his mantle, and his weapons.

      “He is coming down! He is coming down!” muttered Maurevel, pale with joy. “Attention, the rest of you!” he whispered to the Swiss.

      Then taking the arquebuse from Coconnas he blew on the tinder to make sure that it was still alight.

      “Here, La Hurière,” he added, addressing the innkeeper, who had rejoined the main body of the company, “here, take your arquebuse!”

      “By Heaven!” exclaimed Coconnas, “the moon is coming out of the clouds to witness this beautiful fight. I would give a great deal if Lambert Mercandon were here, to serve as Monsieur de Mouy’s second.”

      “Wait, wait!” said Maurevel; “Monsieur de Mouy alone is equal to a dozen men, and it is likely that we six shall have enough to do to despatch him. Forward, my men!” continued Maurevel, making a sign to the Swiss to stand by the door, in order to strike De Mouy as he came forth.

      “Oho!” said Coconnas, as he watched these arrangements; “it appears that this will not come off quite as I expected.”

      Already the noise made by De Mouy in withdrawing the bar was heard. The Swiss had left their hiding-place to arrange themselves near the door, Maurevel and La Hurière were going forward on tiptoe, and Coconnas with a dying gleam of gentlemanly feeling was standing where he was, when the young woman who had been for the moment utterly forgotten suddenly appeared on the balcony and uttered a terrible shriek at the sight of the Swiss, Maurevel, and La Hurière.

      De Mouy, who had already half opened the door, paused.

      “Come back! come back!” cried the young woman. “I see swords glitter, and the match of an arquebuse — there is treachery!”

      “Oho!” said the young man; “let us see, then, what all this means.”

      And he closed the door, replaced the bar, and went upstairs again.

      Maurevel’s order of battle was changed as soon as he saw that De Mouy was not going to come out. The Swiss went and posted themselves at the other corner of the street, and La Hurière, with his arquebuse in his hand, waited till the enemy reappeared at the window.

      He did not wait long. De Mouy came forward holding before him two pistols of such respectable length that La Hurière, who was already aiming, suddenly reflected that the Huguenot’s bullets had no farther to fly in reaching the street from the balcony than