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Updated: June 15, 2025
She drew in deep breaths of briny air. "Gabrielle, you are a mystery to me. Four years out of convent, and not a lover; I mean one upon whom you might bestow love. And that handsome Vicomte d'Halluys?" "Pouf! I would not throw him yesterday's rose." "And Monsieur de Saumaise?" "Well, yes; he is a gallant fellow. And I fear that I have brought trouble into his household. But love him?
So, led by De Saumaise, who was by now in a most genial state of mind, the roisterers trailed across the room toward the dining-hall, laughing and grumbling over their gains and losses at the Corne d'Abondance.
"What! you have dared to soil it?" "No, Monsieur; but you have forgotten that you loaned it to Monsieur de Saumaise, prior to your departure to Italy. He has not returned it." "That's not like Victor. And I had dreamed of wearing that cloak. Mademoiselle complimented me on it, and that fop De Montausier asked me how many pistoles I paid for it." "The purple cloak is new, Monsieur.
"Indeed, Captain," said De Saumaise, smiling again, "that simplifies everything. You are one of the gentlemen whom I am come to seek." "Monsieur," said the choleric Nicot, "accept my apologies; but, nevertheless, I still adhere to the statement, that you smell badly of wet horses." He bowed. "And I accept the apology and confess to the impeachment."
The mask lay crumpled at his feet, and he recovered it absently. "You?" he cried, suddenly, as the picture came back. He looked at the mask, then at her. "Was it you who came into that room at the Corne d'Abondance in Rochelle, and when I addressed you, would not speak? Oh! You, were implicated in a conspiracy, and you were on the way to Spain. Saumaise!
In the summer months they promenaded the gardens of La Place Royale, on the Cours de la Reine, always at dusk. When it grew colder this gallant, who was of a poetical turn of mind, read her verses from Voiture, Malherbe, or Ronsard . . ." "Not to mention Saumaise," said the Chevalier. "He was usually seated at her feet in her boudoir.
He crossed over to the chimney, stood with his back to the fire and waited. The vicomte approached within a yard, stopped; twisted his mustache, resting his left hand on his hip. His discerning inspection was soon completed. He was fully aware of the desperate and reckless light in the poet's eyes. "Monsieur de Saumaise, you have this night offered me four distinct affronts.
Victor de Saumaise, his friend, his comrade in arms, Victor the gay and careless, who was without any influence save that which his cheeriness and honesty and wit gave him! Victor the poet, the fashionable Villon, with his ballade, his rondeau, his triolet, his chant-royal! Victor, who had put his own breast before his at Lens!
"Messieurs," he began, "I am gratified to find you." "The news!" cried the poet and the gamester. "Devilish bad, Monsieur, for every one. The paper . . ." "It is not here," interrupted the vicomte. The count swore. "Mazarin has mentioned your name, Saumaise. You were a frequent visitor to the Hôtel de Brissac. As for me, I swore to a lie; but am yet under suspicion.
"I am here to command his immediate return to Paris," and De Saumaise blinked moodily at the fire. "And what brought about this good fortune?" "His innocence and another man's honesty." "Ah!" "Monsieur, you are a man of experience; are there not times when the best of us are unable to surmount temptation?" "Only his Holiness is infallible."
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