CHAPTER XXVI.

GAMAIN PROVES HE IS THE MASTER.

The reader will not be much surprised, after the permission Lafayette

gave for the King to have his locksmith call to relieve him of a trouble

in lockmaking, that Gamain should present himself at the palace with his

apprentice who gave the name of Louis Lecomte.

Though there was nothing in the pair aristocratic, King Louis ran to the

forge door on hearing the announcement and bade them enter.

“Here I am,” returned Gamain, with the familiarity of a crony.

Whether he was less used to royal company, or endowed by more respect

for crowned heads under whatever attire they appeared, the boy kept on

the sill, at a space from his master, with his cap in his hand near the

door closed by the valet behind both.

He may have been better placed there to catch the gleam of glee in the

King’s dull eye, and to give unseen a respectful nod.

“Glad to see you, my old Gamain,” said Louis; “I really did not look for

you--I thought you had forgotten old times.”

“And that is why you have taken on a ’prentice,” said Gamain. “You did

right enough to have help when I was not on hand, but unfortunately an

apprentice is not a master.”

“How could I help it? I was assured that you did not care to come near

me from fear of injuring yourself.”

“Faith, it was not hard to learn at Versailles that it was not healthy

to be friend of yours--as witness that brace of your Lifeguardsman whom

they cut off the heads of! ay, and by the same token had the Queen’s

barber Leonard dress them in the latest fashion, which I saw in a saloon

at Secres.”

A cloud passed over the royal brow and the apprentice hung his head.

“But folks say that you are getting on nicely since you came back to

town, and that you can make the Parisians do anything you like; not that

it is astonishing, for the Parisians are ninnies and the Queen is such a

weedler when she likes to be.”

Louis made no remark, but his cheeks were colored. The young man seemed

pained by the locksmith’s familiarity. After wiping his forehead with a

handkerchief, rather fine for a locksmith’s help, he approached the King

to whom he said:

“Does your Majesty allow me to tell how we have Master Gamain here and

how I am in your employment?”

“Yes, my dear Louis,” said the King.

“That is the style! ‘My dear Louis!’ as long as your arm. To a

fortnight’s acquaintance, a workman, a ’prentice! why, what are you

going to call me, who has known you these five and twenty years? who put

the file in your fist? who am the master? this is the advantage of

having white hands and a glib tongue.”

“I will call you ‘My good Gamain’ if you like. I speak to the lad

affectionately because I owe to him the joy of seeing my old master

again: not because he speaks prettily or keeps his hands smooth, for you

know I think nothing of these fine ways--but I like him for proving it

was false what they said about my never seeing you any more.”

“Well, it was not me that held back, but that wife of mine. She was

always saying: ‘Gamain, you have bad acquaintances, those who fly too

high for you. It is not good to hobnob with aristocrats nowadays. We

have a little property--look after it. Let us rear our young ones: and

let the Dauphin learn locksmithing from others than you, if he wants to,

like his father before him. There are plenty of smiths in France.'”

Louis glanced at the apprentice, and stifling a sigh, partly sad and

partly rallying, said:

“No doubt, but there are few like you.”

“Just what I said to the master when I called on him,” said the young

man, “I told him the King was making a hidden-bolt lock; and that he had

got along very well till he came to the sliding bolt itself----“

“I should think so,” interrupted Gamain: “bless you, the bolt is the

backbone of a lock. It is not given to everybody to get over that

difficulty.”

“No, nor mine in passing the examination you put me through to be

convinced I came from the King,” replied the young man, laughing. “You

said it was a trap laid by your enemies; but the twenty-five yellow boys

sent by his Majesty convinced you. So off we started, and here we are.”

“And welcome,” said the royal smith, thanking the speaker with a glance;

“and now, Master Gamain, as you appear in a hurry, let us tackle the

job.”

“You have hit it. I promised the mistress that I should be home by

evening. Let us see this puzzler of a lock.”

The King put in his hands a lock three-parts finished.

“Lord help us,” said the man, grinning: “this is not a secret bolt but a

trunk lock. You have three wards on it and the second ought to catch

while the first is released by the key.”

He was using the key as he spoke and the others contemplated his

demonstration with awe for his learning.

“But the second ward catches, like the Assembly when you want it to do

something your way and says: ‘I won’t budge.'”

“But there must be some way of getting over the fix,” said the King.

“Of course; it would be a day’s work to an ordinary workman but I will

knock it off in a couple of hours. Only,” said he, with the suspicious

air of an artisan jealous of the secrets of the craft; “I want no

fussing round me.”

What Gamain desired was the yearning of the King. His loneliness would

allow him a dialogue apart with the Apprentice.

“But you may need something?”

“I will set the footman trotting.”

The King went himself to the door to acquaint François with the

arrangement, and then led away the apprentice, Louis Lecomte, in whom

the reader will have recognized Louis Bouille.

They went by a secret stairway into the royal study, where a table was

covered by a large map of France, showing the King had been studying the

route of the flight.

“Now that we are alone, count,” said he, “let me compliment you on your

skill and thank you for your dedication of services to me.”

“And I ask to be excused for my apparel and the language I have had to

use before you.”

“You speak like a brave gentleman and your apparel covers a loyal heart

in any case. But we have no time to lose. Even the Queen is ignorant of

your presence here; nobody is listening; so to the point.”

“Did not your Majesty send us a naval officer, the count of Charny, who

brought a letter----“

“Insignificant,” interrupted the monarch, “a mere introduction to a

verbal communication.”

“He fulfilled it and it was to make its performance certain that my

father sent me to town to try to have an interview alone with your

Majesty. The King can have the certainty of leaving France. My father is

proud and happy of the honor done him.”

“Now for the principal point; what says he of the project?”

“That it is hazardous and requires great precautions but is not

impossible.”

“Firstly, will not your father want the command over the adjoining

districts?”

“It is his advice, but he would not like it to be thought personal

ambition----“

“Pooh, do I not know his disinterestedness? did he explain about the

best road to take?”

“In the first place he fears one thing: that many projects of flight

have been proposed and that all these getting entangled, this one will

meet some block which will be ascribed to fatality, when it will be the

spite or the rashness of the other parties.”

“I promise, my dear Louis, to let the parties intrigue around me; it is

their want and a necessity of my position. While they are following

these threads which will end in nothing but leading them astray we will

follow our own route with no other confidants, with more security from

our greater secresy. But I do not want to leave the kingdom altogether.

It is hard for a sovereign to get back if he does so. I have decided on

Montmedy as the place of retirement, which is in the centre of your

father’s command and at a suitable distance.”

“Has your Majesty planned out the flight or is this but a sketch?”

queried the count.

“Nothing is settled,” replied Louis, “and all depends on circumstances.

If I see the Queen and the Family running fresh dangers from the

ruffians I will take an irrevocable decision.”

“My father thinks the dangers of the journey will be diminished by

dividing the passengers.”

“Yes, but it is useless to discuss this point. In a solemn hour the

Queen and I resolved to go together or not at all.”

The envoy bowed.

“At the meet moment the King has but to issue the orders to have them

executed,” he said. “Now, for the route. There are three ways to

Montmedy.”

“I have marked them on the map. The best is through Reims, but I was

consecrated there and would be recognized by many. I choose the Chalons

Road _via_ Vacennes and going round Verdun. Let the regiments be posted

in the petty towns between Chalons and Montmedy: I see no inconvenience

in the first detachment awaiting me in the former place.”

“Sire, the location of the regiments will have to be settled. By the

way, the King should know that there is no posting-house at Varennes.”

“I am glad you are so well informed,” observed the King, merrily; “it

shows you have deeply studied the plans. But do not worry about such

matters. Charny is my engineer, who has drawn up the maps and he will

see to the supply of horses.”

“And now, Sire, that all is arranged on the main lines,” said the young

conspirator, “will your Majesty allow me to quote some lines from an

Italian author, which my father thought appropriate to the situation?

They are:

“Delay is always prejudicial, and there is no wholly favorable time in

any business; hence if one were to wait for a perfect chance, nothing

would ever be done, or if done be bungled.”

“That is Machiavelli,” said the King. “I will remember the advice of

that secretary to the Magnificent Republic of Venice. But hush! I hear

steps--it is Gamain; let us go to meet him so that he may not think we

were busy about something else than the cupboard the lock is for.”

He opened the secret door, in time, for the master locksmith was there,

with the lock in his hand and a grin on his face.