The Prisoner in the Mask Read online

  The Count thought for a moment, then exclaimed: ‘Mon Dieu, yes! It was just before I left Jvanets to start at St. Cyr; and both you, Vicomte, and Monsieur Syveton were there. On the last night of your visit the men of the party all agreed that the only hope of restoring honest government in France was for her to have a King again. They agreed, too, that it was useless to attempt anything on behalf of the Comte de Paris, and it was stated that the secret Monarchist Committee wished to adopt my father as candidate for the throne. When he refused, a suggestion was made that they should wait a few years and then approach the Duke de Vendôme.’

  De Camargue nodded his bald head. ‘That ith exactly what happened. Well, the few years have gone. This young Prince ith now nineteen and an officer-cadet at St. Cyr.’

  ‘Indeed! A start has been made, then, in bringing him up in a manner which will help to make him popular with the nation.’

  ‘Yes.’ It was Laveriac who spoke. ‘His mother was secretly influenced into sending him there. But she knows nothing of this, and he has not yet been approached. If you are of the same mind as ourselves, we feel that you might be the right man to approach him.’

  ‘Why should your choice fall on me, General?’ asked de Quesnoy, greatly surprised and with sudden caution.

  ‘For several reasons. Our young Prince has been brought up most strictly; so even for his age he is very inexperienced in worldly matters. If the approach was bungled it would be disastrous. He might think it a trap intended to test his loyalty to the Republic, and flatly refuse to have anything to do with us—or even report the approach to his Commandant. It must therefore be made by someone he will instinctively trust—someone who is a member of a family as distinguished as his own, not too far removed from him in age, and if possible a brother officer whom he would have reason to look up to and admire. You, Count, fulfil all those conditions.’

  De Quesnoy bowed his acknowledgement and the General went on: ‘But there is much more to it than that. He has just completed his first year at St. Cyr. During it, not wishing to give him big ideas unnecessarily early, we deliberately held our hands; but from now on he will be coming more into Paris, and we wish to provide him with a suitable bear leader. I do not mean in the social sense, as every door will be open to him; but someone who will be constantly at hand to advise him, and to whom he can talk freely at times when the secret he will be carrying becomes a burden to him. Earlier, I mentioned to you that there is an alternative to your going to the Ecole Supérieure de Guerre. It would be easy for me to secure your appointment as the Chief Instructor on the Cavalry side at St. Cyr. You are now well qualified for such a post; and, without appearing to take too much notice of the Prince, you would have him under your immediate supervision.’

  For a moment the Count did not reply, then he said: ‘It was, I recall, General de Galliffet who put forward de Vendôme’s name that night at Jvanets. What does he think of these proposals?’

  ‘He has not been consulted.’ Laveriac spread out his hands. ‘He detests the Republic and all the corruption that it stands for; but he has made it a rule of his life never to act against the government which is employing him. I have no doubt at all that in the event of a successful coup d’état he would immediately give our new provisional government his support, and later, for the sake of the Army that means so much to him, accept again the portfolio of War Minister. But, knowing his principles, we felt that it would have been wrong at this stage for us to make him privy to our plans.’

  ‘I appreciate that.’ De Quesnoy nodded. ‘As for myself, I must have time to think the matter over.’

  Syveton had been pulling nervously at his drooping moustache. He now leaned forward and said earnestly. ‘Monsieur le Comte, I would like to stress how invaluable your help would be to us. In fact there is no one else who could play this role even half so effectively. As General Laveriac has pointed out, it is certain that owing to your distinguished lineage, coupled with the reputation you have already made while young as a gallant and experienced soldier, the Prince will place his confidence in you. But that is not all that is required. If we attempted to place an instructor over him who might be suspected by the government of being a nominee of what they call “the old gang at the War Office” General André would soon get to hear of it and veto the appointment. You will be immune from such suspicions; but I can think of no one else of your rank and achievements who would.’

  ‘Then the reason for my being sent to Madagascar got out,’ smiled the Count. ‘And in consequence they now account me a Dreyfusist and a radical.’

  Laveriac laughed. ‘That was bound to happen. I am told that your sudden departure set every tongue in the War Office wagging. Your friendship for Picquart was of course known, and that old fool Billot stupidly refrained from destroying your letter; so in the course of a few days everyone knew the inside story. Naturally it will be assumed that you have come home with a grudge against de Boisdeffre, du Paty, and the rest of the Army’s aristocratic pro-clerical element. That is why, having sounded General André, I am already certain that he would approve your appointment as one of the Chief Instructors at St. Cyr, and not have the faintest suspicion that you might be grooming our young man to play a royal rôle, with the object of throwing him and all his crooked colleagues out into the gutter.’

  Again Syveton spoke, his pale eyes beneath the broad forehead boring earnestly into de Quesnoy’s bright grey ones. ‘It is only fair to warn you, Count, that should you decide to work with us, until we can come out into the open, you will be called on to make certain sacrifices. I mean as far as your social life is concerned. It would be unnatural if, having returned to Paris, you refrained from calling on your cousins and more intimate friends of the past. But in view of what we have just been saying, while you are acting as mentor to the young Prince it is an essential precaution that you should have as little as possible to do with the Faubourg St. Germain circle. Only so can you maintain the impression that you continue to bear resentment for the scurvy trick that the Generals played upon you, and are therefore a reliable watch-dog who will prevent your pupil from being made political use of by what our enemies term “the reactionaries”.’

  ‘That ith so,’ de Camargue nodded. ‘As known woyalists my wife and myself will have to deny ourselves the pleasure of your visits. Thith also applies to all the other members of the Monarchist Committee whose names I will give you. And above all to Syveton; as he ith now Treasurer of the Ligue de la Patrie and the most active of all of us. But he ith wight that you have a perfect excuse for appawently having taken umbwage against the people with whom you would normally be in political agweement, so you are doubly waluable to us on that account.’

  De Quesnoy drew heavily on his cigar, let the smoke trickle gently out from the corners of his mouth, then said: ‘I appreciate now that few people are so circumstanced that they could fill your particular requirement with as good a chance of being successful in it as myself. But, as I have already said, I must have time to think the matter over. How long can you give me?’

  Laveriac’s quick black eyes flashed approval. ‘If you do decide to do as we wish I shall be all the better pleased that there will afterwards be no question of our having rushed you into it. We have the week-end before us; but I leave for Paris on Monday. Do you think you could give us your decision by Sunday night?’

  The Count agreed to do so; after which they talked of more general matters for an hour or so, then went to bed.

  On the Saturday morning they were driven some distance then, taking to broad-bottomed punts, were poled by muscular peasants almost silently through narrow alleys between tall screens of bulrushes, which enabled them to get a fine bag of wild duck, in which the lakes abounded. In the afternoon they rode out to witness a rounding up of cattle by the Camargue horsemen, who were as accomplished riders as Spanish garro-chitas, and to admire the young wild bulls that were a feature of the district.

  On Sunday de Quesnoy excused himself from accompanying
the others to Mass. He was more than ever a believer in an after life and the power of Good over Evil; but since his two-year long concentration on contemplating the mysteries, in Madagascar, he had given up participating in the rituals of the Catholic Church. He asked if instead he might have a carriage to take him into Arles, and his host at once arranged the matter for him.

  On arriving at Arles he spent a quarter of an hour looking round the Arena; then he went to the outskirts of the town where, below the remains of the Roman rampart, lay the ancient burial grounds. Most of the tombs dated back to the Roman occupation, and many of them were great carved stone sarcophagi which had lain there for upwards of fifteen hundred years.

  It was a sunny morning and trees threw a dappled shade on the walks between the rows of tombs. At that hour the spot was deserted, peaceful and friendly. For over an hour he strolled slowly up and down, turning over in his mind the proposal that had been made to him.

  The rôle he had been asked to assume would, he knew, be a difficult and far from pleasant one to play. It would entail cold-shouldering many of his old friends, and Angela among them. Moreover, the Duke de Vendôme might prove an awkward young man to handle or, perhaps, an unlikeable one. There was also the risk of discovery. If the conspiracy misfired its ringleaders would be tried for treason and perhaps be condemned to imprisonment for life, or, in certain circumstances, to death.

  On the other hand if the Prince turned out to be a tractable and pleasant youth, and the coup d’état resulted in his being placed upon the throne, his principal supporters would be able to claim from him practically any rewards they liked to name. To de Quesnoy that meant the command of a Cavalry Division before he was very much older; and later the War Office, with the power to throw out incompetents like Gonse and, with the assistance of Galliéni and Lyautey, the possibility of remaking the whole French Army on a more efficient system. And there was much more to it than that. Under a young King with honest advisers, the whole administration could be purged of crooks and the name of France again made respected throughout the world.

  By mid-afternoon he was back at Albaron, just in time to join the others, who were setting out for the nearby town in which a Saint’s day was being celebrated. For a couple of hours they drank wine with the Mayor and a number of hearty fellows representative of the local notables, while watching the fiesta. Then they returned to the Château.

  As soon as the Vicomtesse had withdrawn after dinner that night, General Laveriac said: ‘Now, Count, may we hear your decision?’

  De Quesnoy smiled. ‘Mon Gêneral, having given deep thought to the matter, I am fully convinced that my duty lies in doing as you wish.’

  At that de Camargue got quickly to his feet, raised his glass, and said: ‘Mes amis. I give you a toast. Let us dwink to Monsieur le Duke de Vendôme crowned in Rheims Cathedral as Francis the Third of France.’

  11

  RED ROSES—BUT FOR WHOM?

  On arriving in Paris de Quesnoy put up at the Meurice. He then began a cautious build-up of what was to be his new social circle. As it was January most of the big houses in the Faubourg St. Germain were shut and their owners basking in the sunshine of the South of France, but one of his cousins had remained in the capital to conclude the merger of a company he controlled with one of its rivals. Through him, the Count had it put about that, while he would be happy to accept invitations from members of his family and close friends to small intimate dinners or lunches, he was anxious not to meet any of the General Staff who belonged to the nobility, so he did not mean to attend any larger functions.

  He also made it clear to several old acquaintances whom he chanced to meet that, while he had no intention of mixing himself up in the Dreyfusard agitation, which was still going on, he considered the Generals who had handled the affair most culpable, and was more than half inclined to suspect that there was some truth in the rumours to the effect that their actions had been inspired by their Father Confessors as part of a Jesuit plot to stimulate anti-Semitism. That, he knew, would in due course get passed on to the anti-clerical War Minister, General André, and establish him as a ‘safe’ man to have as one of the Chief Instructors at St. Cyr.

  However, he was quick to appreciate that, if he gave the impression that he was living almost the life of a hermit, it would be regarded as unnatural; so he paid an early call on Josephine Pollit and had the good luck to find her in Paris. During the few months that Josephine had been his mistress he had met many interesting people in her salon. Painters were her speciality but she also gathered round her some of the more respectable literary lions of the day and a number of the younger members of the Académie Française. Having greatly widened his reading during the past six years de Quesnoy was much better equipped to hold his own with writers and savants than he had been in ’96, and it was now his intention to cultivate these gifted people.

  Josephine received him most kindly and, while there was no suggestion on either side that they should reopen their affaire, she told him that he would always be very welcome at her receptions. He attended an evening soirée at her house two days later, meeting there a few old acquaintances and making several new ones. By the time he left he had both given and accepted several invitations, and was pleased to think that, through his ex-mistress, he had provided for himself a social cover which should prove most rewarding.

  By the end of January he had settled in at St. Cyr and was hard at work picking up his new duties. As he was a strong believer in discipline the students to whom he played the part of headmaster soon found that they could take no liberties with him. He was sharply intolerant of both slipshod work and the least slackness in appearance; but he never gave punishments without reason. Once this became generally realised his young men put their backs into their tasks and gave him little trouble.

  To many of them, too, he was already a hero, as his reputation as a fighting soldier had gone before him. Moreover, lean and handsome, still wearing his Spahi uniform with its scarlet cloak floating from his shoulders, and with the ribbons of the Légion d’Honneur and the Croix de Guerre on his chest, he looked the part. About his own exploits he was reticent, but to encourage valour in his youngsters he would sometimes go to their mess in the evening and tell them stories of endurance in the desert, and of courageous deeds performed by the men he had led.

  With regard to the Duke de Vendôme he exercised great caution, treating him exactly as he did the others, and for a while hardly ever addressing an informal word to him. Like de Quesnoy the young Prince was slim, well built and a little above medium height, but his hair was fair and he was endeavouring to grow a moustache. His eyes were blue, and the Bourbon blood in him had come through more strongly than it had in the case of the Count; for he had not only the beaky nose but also the heavy jowl of the royal race, and it detracted somewhat from his otherwise pleasant looks.

  Unfortunately he had been educated entirely by priests, and not ones of the broad-minded variety like the old Abbé Nodier. In consequence, while he was deeply religious and could easily have passed the examinations to graduate from a seminary, he was abysmally ignorant upon many subjects which were of importance in a worldly career. This, however, when de Quesnoy discovered it, provided just the sort of excuse for which he was seeking to get into closer touch with the young man without arousing the jealousy of the other students. All the more conscientious instructors gave a certain amount of their own time to coaching the more backward of their charges and the Count, having set de Vendôme a special course of reading, made him come to his private room for an hour every Monday evening to talk over what he had read.

  It did not take many of these talks to convince the Count that if de Vendôme did become Francis the Third he would not set Europe on fire. He was a kindly natured and polite young man with a great fondness for animals, and particularly horses. In fact the only natural affinity between master and pupil was their love of hunting; but even this was limited to hunting in its conventional sense, for the Prince
was too shy to hunt women and too timid to hunt men.

  Yet, even if he was no throw-back to the amorous and brave Vert Gallant, he had quite a will of his own and his fair share of ambition. He was devoted to his mother and stepfather and most anxious to please them by doing well at St. Cyr; moreover, as a really expert horseman, he had set his heart on later making a name for himself by carrying off prizes for jumping at the international horse shows.

  After a while de Quesnoy became quite fond of him, and decided that he would fill the bill of King very well. He would never dominate his ministers, but when he got over his shyness he would fulfil his duties with considerable charm; on horseback in a brilliant uniform he would make just the sort of showy figure to appeal to the populace, and he was reasonably intelligent, honest and good tempered. Such qualities made it much more likely that he would make a successful constitutional monarch than had he been a lusty, boisterous determined schemer like his great ancestor. Nevertheless, it was not until April that the Count disclosed to him the high destiny which might be his.

  He chose a fine Saturday on which to do it, and as the setting, the garden that Marie Antoinette had laid out about the Petit Trianon. It was less than twenty minutes’ ride from St. Cyr, and horses could be left in the stable at the rear of the little palace; so on several occasions he had ridden over to stroll there, and this time he invited de Vendôme to accompany him.

  The crocuses were over and the lilac buds only just bursting; but the cherries and double peaches were in full blossom and drifts of daffodils and hyacinths dotted the lawns. The tourist season had not yet begun, so there were few people about and there was no chance of their being overheard as they walked slowly between the trees which thrust up branches covered with tender spring green towards the pale blue sky.