The Grey Cloak

Some fourteen gentlemen sat around the governor's table the third

Friday night. There were the governor and his civic staff and his

officers, three or four merchants, and two priests, Brother Jacques and

Dollier de Casson, that brother to Rabelais, with his Jove-like smile

and his Herculean proportions. De Casson had arrived that day from

Three Rivers, and he had come for aid.

Two chairs were vacant, and presently the vicomte filled one of them.

The other was reserved for the Chevalier.

Victor was telling some amusing tales of the court; how Beaufort was

always blundering, how Mazarin was always saving, how Louis was always

making love, and how the queen was always praying.

"Ah, Monsieur de Saumaise," said the governor, "you must not tell jests

at the expense of their Majesties; Mazarin I do not mind, for he is

certainly niggard with funds and with men."

"How that handsome young king of ours will spend money when a new prime

minister is needed!" was the vicomte's comment, his gaze falling on the

Chevalier's empty chair. "Do you remember how Mazarin took away

Scarron's pension? Scarron asked that it be renewed; and Mazarin

refused, bidding the wit to be of good cheer. Scarron replied,

'Monseigneur, I should indeed be in good cheer were I not positive that

I shall not outlive your parsimony.'"

When the Chevalier finally came in he was cordially greeted by the

governor. He took his chair, filled his glass and lit his pipe. He

waved aside all food, stating that he had eaten his supper in the lower

town.

No sooner had he lighted his pipe than De Leviston rose, shoving back

his chair noisily. A cold, sneering contempt marked his swart face.

"What is the matter, Monsieur de Leviston?" asked the governor, mildly.

"Your Excellency will pardon me," said De Leviston; "but I find, it

impossible to sit at this table till another person leaves it."

Surprise and consternation lay written on every face. The Chevalier

lowered his pipe, and looked from one face to another. He was so tired

with the labor of the day, that he had forgotten all about himself and

his history.

The governor sat rigid in his chair. Victor's hand rested on the

table; he was ready to rise and meet the blow he knew was coming.

"Explain yourself," said the governor, coldly. "You impugn the conduct

or honor of some gentleman at my table? Take care, Monsieur."

"It is my regret."

"Who is this person who has aroused your displeasure, and what has he

done that he may not sit in the presence of gentlemen?"

Victor rose, white and trembling.

"Sit down, Monsieur de Saumaise," commanded the governor, sternly.

"He calls himself the Chevalier du Cévennes." De Leviston smiled.

Every eye was leveled at the Chevalier. Victor felt his heart

swelling. It had come at last! Brother Jacques leaned forward,

peering into every face. D'Hérouville's face was expressive of deep

surprise, and the vicomte was staring at De Leviston as if he believed

that gentleman to be mad.