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Updated: May 4, 2025
Turning on his heel Saint-Pierre beckoned to an under officer. "Pass these gentlemen to Captain Leslie: he is on duty in the King's ante-room. Don't fear, La Mothe, I will send word to Monsieur de Commines without delay. He is anxious about you, for he has been enquiring at the gates once this morning already." "Monsieur de Saint-Pierre, there is a lady behind us; she has ridden all night "
Briefly, succinctly, he told of his childhood's poverty, of the change which came later under Commines' unfailing, affectionate liberality, of his placing him as a lad in the household of Monsieur de Perche, of the life in Poitou with its training in arms and simple teaching of Keep faith, Live clean, Follow the right and trust God unafraid. It was a very simple story, but he told it well.
Or else the thought was contemptible, but it refused to be thrust aside the King wished to have no room for doubt. The frown deepened on Commines' face as he remembered how often the King's wishes had been master of the truth. But could any father be cursed with such a terrible wish? Yes, when the father was that complex, unhappy man, Louis of France.
Through Commines' indictment, coldly, almost phlegmatically delivered, he stood motionless and silent, his hands clenched, every muscle tense with restraint. It was the fighting attitude, the attitude of a man who waits in the dark for a blow he knows not whence, but a blow which will surely come. Now the restraint snapped. "Villon, for God's sake, do you believe this lie?"
It was blank; beyond the superscription and the "Louis" sprawled across the corner there was not one single word. And yet, to one trained by ten years service in his master's ways of crooked cunning the very blank would have been eloquent of warning. As Commines crossed the courtyard to his lodgings his face was puckered with anxious thought.
With frank brutality he completed Commines' broken sentence. "The father can no longer murder the son and call it justice. But, monsieur," and it was significant that the adoptive relationship was unceremoniously swept aside, "what has the father's murder of the son to do with me?"
But Commines was spared the embarrassment of an immediate reply. The door, which Villon had just quitted, was thrown hastily open and a servant entered, a sealed envelope in his hand. Ignoring the Dauphin utterly and it was indicative of the estimate in which the boy was held he turned to Commines. "From Valmy, for Monsieur d'Argenton, in great haste.
But the life which gave its strength to the hand which lifted and dragged down was frail almost to extinction, and remembering that one day the Dauphin must step into Louis' place Commines ventured to temporize. "Yes, sire, but to turn back the blow I must know who aims the blow, whence it comes, where it will strike, and when. To fight in the dark is to waste strength.
"So far it is you who have answered with rhetoric and declamation." "Word-of-mouth proofs." "Here in the Château?" "No," answered Commines reluctantly, "not just in the Château but at its very door. I tell you, Stephen, there can be no mistake. Weeks ago Hugues approached him, first with hints, then more openly. It was the very cunning of Satan, the line of argument was so plausible.
"As God lives," said Commines deliberately, "these were the Dauphin's very words, and he spoke them from his heart. No one prompted him, no one led him; they were his own thoughts, his only." With a deep breath which might have been a sigh or a moan Louis lay back.
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