The Shoes of Fortune by Neil Munro
CHAPTER XX
LEADS ME TO THE FRONT OF A COFFEE-HOUSE WHERE I AM STARTLED TO SEE AFACE I KNOW
The occasion for this precaution in our correspondence was beyond mycomprehension; nevertheless I was too proud to have the patronage of sofine a woman to cavil at what system she should devise for its discreetconduct, and the Swiss that night got my first letter to frank anddespatch. He got one next evening also, and the evening after that; inshort, I made a diurnal of each stage in our journey and Bernard was mypostman--so to name it--on every occasion that I forwarded the same toMiss Walkinshaw. He assured me that he was in circumstances to securethe more prompt forwardation of my epistles than if I trusted in thecommon runner, and it was a proof of this that when we got, after somedays, into Versailles, he should bring to me a letter from the ladyherself informing me how much of pleasure she had got from the receiptof the first communication I had sent her.
Perhaps it is a sign of the injudicious mind that I should not be verymightily pleased with this same Versailles. We had come into it of asunny afternoon and quartered at the Cerf d'Or Inn, and went out in theevening for the air. Somehow the place gave me an antagonism; its dipttrees all in rows upon the wayside like a guard of soldiers; its trimgardens and bits of plots; its fountains crying, as it seemed, forattention--these things hurt me as a liberty taken with nature. Here,thought I, is the fitting place for the raff in ruffles and the scentedwanton; it should be the artificial man and the insincere woman shouldbe condemned to walk for ever in these alleys and drink in these_bosquets;_ I would not give a fir planting black against the eveningsky at home for all this pompous play-acting at landscape, nor a yardof the brown heather of the hills for all these well-drilled flowerparterres.
"Eh! M. Croque-mort," said the priest, delighted visibly with all he sawabout him; "what think'st thou of Le Notre's gardening?"
"A good deal, sir," I said, "that need never be mentioned. I feel a pityfor the poor trees as I did for yon dipt poodle dog at Griepon."
"La! la! la! _sots raissonable_, Monsieur," cried the priest. "We cannothave the tastes of our Dubarrys and Pompadours and Maintenons so calledin question by an untravelled Scot that knows but the rude mountain andstunted oaks dying in a murrain of climate. 'Art too ingenuous, youth.And yet--and yet"--here he paused and tapped his temple and smiledwhimsically--"between ourselves, I prefer the woods of Somme where thebirds sang together so jocund t'other day. But there now--ah, _quellegloire!_"
We had come upon the front of the palace, and its huge far-reachingmasonry, that I learned later to regard as cold, formal, and wanting ina soul, vastly discomposed me. I do not know why it should be so, butas I gazed at this--the greatest palace I had ever beheld--I felt tearsrush irrestrainably to my eyes. Maybe it was the poor little poet inMacGibbon's law chamber in Lanark town that used to tenant every ancientdwelling with spirits of the past, cropped up for the moment in FatherHamilton's secretary, and made me, in a flash, people the place withkings--and realise something of the wrench it must have been and stillwould be to each and all of them to say adieu at the long last to thisplace of noisy grandeur where they had had their time of gaiety andsplendour. Anyhow, I well-nigh wept, and the priest was quick to see it.
"Fore God!" he cried, "here's Andrew Greig again! 'Twas the wickedestrogue ever threw dice, and yet the man must rain at the eyes like a verywoman."
And yet he was pleased, I thought, to see me touched. A band was playingsomewhere in a garden unseen; he tapped time to its music with hisfinger tips against each other and smiled beatifically and hummed. Heseemed at peace with the world and himself at that moment, yet a secondlater he was the picture of distress and apprehension.
We were going towards the Place d'Armes; he had, as was customary, hisarm through mine, leaning on me more than was comfortable, for he wasthe poorest judge imaginable of his own corpulence. Of a sudden I felthim jolt as if he had been startled, and then he gripped my arm witha nervous grasp. All that was to account for his perturbation was thatamong the few pedestrians passing us on the road was one in a uniformwho cast a rapid glance at us. It was not wonderful that he should doso, for indeed we were a singularly ill-assorted pair, but there was arecognition of the priest in the glance the man in the uniform threwat him in passing. Nothing was said; the man went on his way and we onours, but looking at Father Hamilton I saw his face had lost its colourand grown blotched in patches. His hand trembled; for the rest of thewalk he was silent, and he could not too soon hurry us back to the Cerfd'Or.
Next day was Sunday, and Father Hamilton went to Mass leaving me to myown affairs, that were not of that complexion perhaps most becomingon that day to a lad from Scotland. He came back anon and dressed mostscrupulously in a suit of lay clothing.
"Come out, Master Greig," said he, "and use thine eyes for a poorpriest that has ruined his own in studying the Fathers and seeking forhonesty."
"It is not in the nature of a compliment to myself, that," I said, alittle tired of his sour sentiments regarding humanity, and not afraidin the least to tell him so.
"Eh!" said he. "I spoke not of thee, thou savage. A plague on thy curttemper; 'twas ever the weakness of the Greigs. Come, and I shall showthee a house where thy uncle and I had many a game of dominoes."
We went to a coffee-house and watched the fashionable world go by. Itwas a sight monstrously fine. Because it was the Easter Sunday the womenhad on their gayest apparel, the men their most belaced _jabots_.
"Now look you well, Friend Scotland," said Father Hamilton, as we satat a little table and watched the stream of quality pass, "look you welland watch particularly every gentleman that passes to the right, andwhen you see one you know tell me quickly."
He had dropped his Roman manner as if in too sober a mood to act.
"Is it a game?" I asked. "Who can I ken in the town of Versailles thatnever saw me here before?"
"Never mind," said he, "do as I tell you. A sharp eye, and-"
"Why," I cried, "there's a man I have seen before!"
"Where? where?" said Father Hamilton, with the utmost interest lightinghis countenance.
"Yonder, to the left of the man with the velvet breeches. He will passus in a minute or two."
The person I meant would have been kenspeckle in any company bythe splendour of his clothing, but beyond his clothing there wasa haughtiness in his carriage that singled him out even among thefashionables of Versailles, who were themselves obviously interested inhis personality, to judge by the looks that they gave him as closelyas breeding permitted. He came sauntering along the pavement swinginga cane by its tassel, his chin in the air, his eyes anywhere but on thecrowds that parted to give him room. As he came closer I saw it was ahandsome face enough that thus was cocked in haughtiness to the heavens,not unlike Clancarty's in that it showed the same signs of dissipation,yet with more of native nobility in it than was in the good enoughcountenance of the French-Irish nobleman. Where had I seen that facebefore?
It must have been in Scotland; it must have been when I was a boy; itwas never in the Mearns. This was a hat with a Dettingen cock; when Isaw that forehead last it was under a Highland bonnet.
A Highland bonnet--why! yes, and five thousand Highland bonnets were inits company--whom had I here but Prince Charles Edward!
The recognition set my heart dirling in my breast, for there wasenough of the rebel in me to feel a romantic glow at seeing him who setScotland in a blaze, and was now the stuff of songs our women sangin milking folds among the hills; that heads had fallen for, and theHebrides had been searched for in vain for weary seasons. The man wasnever a hero of mine so long as I had the cooling influence of my fatherto tell me how lamentable for Scotland had been his success had Godpermitted the same, yet I was proud to-day to see him.
"Is it he?" asked the priest, dividing his attention between me and theapproaching nobleman.
"It's no other," said I. "I would know Prince Charles in ten thousand,though I saw him but the once in a rabble of caterans coming up t
"Ah," said the priest, with a curious sighing sound. "They said hepassed here at the hour. And that's our gentleman, is it? I expectedhe would have been--would have been different." When the Prince wasopposite the cafe where we sat he let his glance come to earth, and itfell upon myself. His aspect changed; there was something of recognitionin it; though he never slackened his pace and was gazing the next momentdown the vista of the street, I knew that his glance had taken me infrom head to heel, and that I was still the object of his thoughts.
"You see! you see!" cried the priest, "I was right, and he knew theGreig. Why, lad, shalt have an Easter egg for this--the best horologe inVersailles upon Monday morning."
"Why, how could he know me?" I asked. "It is an impossibility, for whenhe and I were in the same street last he rode a horse high above an armyand I was only a raw laddie standing at a close-mouth in Duff's Land inthe Gallowgate."
But all the same I felt the priest was right, and that there was somesort of recognition in the Prince's glance at me in passing.
Father Hamilton poured himself a generous glass and drank thirstily.
"La! la! la!" said he, resuming his customary manner of address. "Idaresay his Royal Highness has never clapt eyes on thy _croque-mori_countenance before, but he has seen its like--ay, and had a regard forit, too! Thine Uncle Andrew has done the thing for thee again; the mole,the hair, the face, the shoes--sure they advertise the Greig as by adrum tuck! and Charles Edward knew thy uncle pretty well so I supposedhe would know thee. And this is my gentleman, is it? Well, well! No, notat all well; mighty ill indeed. Not the sort of fellow I had looked forat all. Seems a harmless man enough, and has tossed many a goblet in theway of company. If he had been a sour whey-face now--"
Father Hamilton applied himself most industriously to the bottle thatafternoon, and it was not long till the last of my respect for him wasgone. Something troubled him. He was moody and hilarious by turns, butneither very long, and completed my distrust of him when he intimatedthat there was some possibility of our trip across Europe never cominginto effect. But all the same, I was to be assured of his patronage,I was to continue in his service as secretary, if, as was possible, heshould take up his residence for a time in Paris. And money--why, lookagain! he had a ship's load of it, and 'twould never be said of FatherHamilton that he could not share with a friend. And there he thrust somerouleaux upon me and clapped my shoulder and was so affected at his ownlove for Andrew Greig's nephew that he must even weep.
Weeping indeed was the priest's odd foible for the week we remainedat Versailles. He that had been so jocular before was now filled withmorose moods, and would ruminate over his bottle by the hour at a time.
He was none the better for the company he met during our stay at theCerf d'Or--all priests, and to the number of half a dozen, one of theman abbe with a most noble and reverent countenance. They used to come tohim late at night, confer with him secretly in his room, and whenthey were gone I found him each time drenched in a perspiration andfeverishly gulping spirits.
Every day we went to the cafe where we had seen the Prince first, andevery day at the same hour we saw his Royal Highness, who, it appeared,was not known to the world as such, though known to me. The sight ofhim seemed to trouble Father Hamilton amazingly, and yet 'twas the grandobject of the day--its only diversion; when we had seen the Prince wewent back straight to the inn every afternoon.
The Cerf d'Or had a courtyard, cobbled with rough stones, in which therewas a great and noisy traffic. In the midst of the court there was alittle clump of evergreen trees and bushes in tubs, round which weregathered a few tables and chairs whereat--now that the weather wasmild--the world sat in the afternoon. The walls about were covered withdusty ivy where sparrows had begun to busy themselves with love andhousekeeping; lilacs sprouted into green, and the porter of the housewas for ever scratching at the hard earth about the plants, and tying uptwigs and watering the pots. It was here I used to write my letters toMiss Walkinshaw at a little table separate from the rest, and I think itwas on Friday I was at this pleasant occupation when I looked up to seethe man with the uniform gazing at me from the other side of the bushesas if he were waiting to have the letter when I was done with it.
I went in and asked Father Hamilton who this man was.
"What!" he cried in a great disturbance, "the same as we met near theTrianon! O Lord! Paul, there is something wrong, for that was Buhot."
"And this Buhot?" I asked.
"A police inspector. There is no time to lose. Monsieur Greig, I wantyou to do an office for me. Here is a letter that must find its way intothe hands of the Prince. You will give it to him. You have seen thathe passes the cafe at the same hour every day. Well, it is the easiestthing in the world for you to go up to him and hand him this. No more'sto be done by you."
"But why should I particularly give him the letter? Why not send it bythe Swiss?"
"That is my affair," cried the priest testily. "The Prince knowsyou--that is important. He knows the Swiss too, and that is why I havethe Swiss with me as a second string to my bow, but I prefer that heshould have this letter from the hand of M. Andrew Greig's nephew. 'Tisa letter from his Royal Highness's most intimate friend."
I took the letter into my hand, and was amazed to see that the addresswas in a writing exactly corresponding to that of a billet now in thebosom of my coat!
What could Miss Walkinshaw and the Prince have of correspondence to beconducted on such roundabout lines? Still, if the letter was hers I mustcarry it!
"Very well," I agreed, and went out to meet the Prince.
The sun was blazing; the street was full of the quality in their summerclothing. His Royal Highness came stepping along at the customary hourmore gay than ever. I made bold to call myself to his attention with myhat in my hand. "I beg your Royal Highness's pardon," I said in English,"but I have been instructed to convey this letter to you."
He swept his glance over me; pausing longest of all on my red shoes,and took the letter from my hand. He gave a glance at the direction,reddened, and bit his lip.
"Let me see now, what is the name of the gentleman who does me thehonour?"
"Greig," I answered. "Paul Greig."
"Ah!" he cried, "of course: I have had friends in Monsieur's family._Charme, Monsieur, de faire votre connaissance_. M. Andrew Greig-"
"Was my uncle, your Royal Highness?"
"So! a dear fellow, but, if I remember rightly, with a fatal gift ofirony. 'Tis a quality to be used with tact. I hope you have tact, M.Greig. Your good uncle once did me the honour to call me a--what was itnow?--a gomeral."
"It was very like my uncle, that, your Royal Highness," I said. "But Iknow that he loved you and your cause."
"I daresay he did, Monsieur; I daresay he did," said the Prince,flushing, and with a show of pleasure at my speech. "I have learned oflate that the fair tongue is not always the friendliest. In spite of itall I liked M. Andrew Greig. I hope I shall have the pleasure of seeingMonsieur Greig's nephew soon again. _Au plaisir de vous revoir!_" Andoff he went, putting the letter, unread, into his pocket.
When I went back to the Cerf d'Or and told Hamilton all that had passed,he was straightway plunged into the most unaccountable melancholy.