The Hôtel de Nesle, on the side bounded by the Pré-aux-Clercs, was doubly defended by its walls and by the city moat, so that on that side it was considered impregnable. Now Ascanio very sensibly reflected that it is seldom deemed necessary to guard what cannot be taken, and he determined to make an attack upon the point where the besieged had not thought of providing against one.
With that object in view he set out with his friend Jacques Aubry, not dreaming that, as he disappeared in one direction, Colombe would appear in the other, and provide Benvenuto with a means of compelling the provost to adopt a course which he was most reluctant to adopt.
Ascanio's scheme was very difficult of execution, and very dangerous in its possible results. He proposed to cross a deep moat, scale a wall twenty-five feet high, and at the end perhaps fall into the midst of the enemy. Not till he arrived at the brink of the moat and of his enterprise did he realize the difficulty of crossing the one and carrying through the other; and then his determination, firm as it was at the outset, wavered for an instant.
Jacques Aubry halted some ten or twelve paces behind his friend, and stood tranquilly gazing from the wall to the moat. Having measured them both with his eye, he said:—
"I beg you, my dear fellow, to have the kindness to inform me why you bring me hither, unless it be to fish for frogs. Ah! yes,—you glance at your ladder. Very good. I understand. But your ladder is only twelve feet long, while the wall is twenty-five feet high and the moat ten wide, which makes a difference of twenty-three feet, if my reckoning is correct."
Ascanio was taken aback for a moment by this unanswerable arithmetic; but suddenly he cried, striking his forehead with his hand:—
"Ah! I have an idea! Look!"
"Where?"
"There!" said Ascanio; "there!"
"That's not an idea you are pointing at," rejoined the student, "but an oak tree."
There was in truth a huge oak growing near the outer edge of the moat, the upper branches of which gazed inquisitively over the wall of the Séjour de Nesle.
"What? don't you understand?" cried Ascanio.
"Yes! yes! I begin to see through it now. Yes, it's the very thing. I see it all. The oak and the wall form part of the arch of a bridge which your ladder will complete: but the abyss yawns beneath, my friend, and an abyss full of mud. The devil! we mustn't forget that. I am wearing my best clothes, and Simonne's husband is beginning to grumble about giving me credit."
"Help me to hoist the ladder," said Ascanio; "that's all I ask of you."
"Aha!" said the student, "and I am to stay below! Thanks!"
Each of them seized a branch, and they were soon in the tree. By their united strength they succeeded in pulling the ladder up after them to the top of the tree, where they lowered it like a drawbridge, and found to their intense satisfaction that while one end rested firmly upon a stout branch, the other end extended two or three feet beyond the wall.
"But when we are upon the wall, what are we to do?" Aubry inquired.
"Why, when we're upon the wall we will pull the ladder after us, and go down by it."
"Very good. There is only one trifling difficulty, and that is that the wall is twenty-five feet high, and the ladder only twelve."
"I have provided for that," said Ascanio, unwinding the rope from his body. He then made one end fast to the trunk of the tree, and threw the other over the wall.
"Ah! great man, I understand you," cried Aubry, "and I am proud and happy to break my neck with you."
"Very well! what do you propose to do?"
"Go across," and Aubry prepared to cross the space that lay between them and the wall.
"No, no!" said Ascanio, "it is my place to go first."
"Which finger is wet?" said Aubry, holding out his hand to his companion with two fingers open and two closed.
"So be it," said Ascanio, touching one of the two closed fingers.
"You have won," said Aubry. "Go on: but keep cool, don't get excited."
"Never fear."
Ascanio started out upon the flying bridge, while Jacques Aubry steadied it by sitting upon the end; the ladder was a frail support, but the daring youth was light. The student, hardly daring to breathe, thought that he wavered for an instant; but he passed quickly over the narrow space that separated him from the wall, and arrived there safe and sound. He was still in very great danger if any of the besieged should happen to espy him, but his anticipations were verified.
"No one in sight," he shouted to his companion,—"no one!"
"If that is so," said Aubry, "on with the dance!"
And he ventured upon the narrow, trembling path, while Ascanio, putting his whole weight upon the other end of the ladder, repaid the service rendered him. As he was as light and as active as Ascanio, he was at his side in an instant.
Both of them sat astride the wall and drew the ladder across; they then made fast the other end of the rope to it, and lowered it, swinging it out so that the lower end would rest on the ground at a safe distance from the wall; lastly, Ascanio, who had won the privilege of making experiments, took the rope in both hands and slid down until his feet rested upon the topmost round of the ladder; another second and he was on the ground.
Jacques Aubry followed him with similar good fortune, and the two friends found themselves in the garden.
It was plainly advisable for them to act at once. All their manœuvring had taken considerable time, and Ascanio was fearful lest his absence and Aubry's had been prejudicial to the master's interests. Drawing their swords as they ran, they hastened to the door leading into the first courtyard, where the garrison should be, assuming that they had not changed their position. When they reached the door, Ascanio put his eye to the keyhole, and saw that the courtyard was empty.
"Benvenuto has succeeded," he cried; "the garrison has gone out. The hotel is ours!" and he tried to open the door, which proved to be locked.
Both of the young men put forth all their strength in an effort to force it.
"This way! this way!" exclaimed a voice, which found an echo in Ascanio's heart: "this way, Monsieur!"
He turned and saw Colombe at a window on the ground floor. In two bounds he was at her side.
"Aha!" exclaimed Jacques Aubry, following him; "it seems that we have friends in the citadel! Aha! you didn't tell me that, my boy!"
"Oh! save my father, Monsieur Ascanio!" cried Colombe, without any indication of surprise at the young man's appearance, and as if his presence were the most natural thing in the world. "They are fighting outside, do you know, and it's all for me, all on my account! O mon Dieu! mon Dieu! grant that they kill not one another!"
"Have no fear," said Ascanio, darting into the apartment, which had a door leading into the little courtyard; "have no fear, I will answer for everything!"
"Have no fear," said Jacques Aubry, following at his heels; "have no fear, we will answer for everything!"
As he entered the room Ascanio heard his name called a second time, but by a voice much less musical than the other.
"Who calls me?" he said.
"I, my young friend," the same voice replied, with a most pronounced Teutonic accent.
"Pardieu!" cried Aubry, "'t is our Goliath! What the deuce are you doing in that hen-roost?" he added, looking through the window of the gardener's shed, at which he saw a face which he recognized as Hermann's.
"I haf found myself here, but I know not how I haf here come. Draw the bolt, that I may go and fight. Quick, quick, quick! my hand itches."
"There you are!" said the student, rendering Hermann the service he requested.
Meanwhile Ascanio was hurrying toward the door opening on the quay, where he could hear a tremendous clashing of swords. When naught but the thickness of the wood separated him from the combatants, he feared that, if he showed himself at that moment, he might fall into the hands of his enemies, so he first looked out through the grated wicket. There he saw Cellini facing him, eager, excited and thirsting for the blood of his antagonist, and realized that Messire Robert was lost. He picked up the key, which lay on the ground, opened the door quickly, and thinking of nothing save his promise to Colombe, received in his shoulder the blow which, but for him, would inevitably have transfixed the provost.
We have already witnessed the result of that occurrence. Benvenuto, in desperation, threw himself upon Ascanio's neck; Hermann imprisoned the provost in the same cage from which he had just been set free himself; and Jacques Aubry, perched upon the rampart, flapped his wings and crowed lustily in honor of the victory.
The victory was in very truth complete; the provost's people, when their master was made prisoner, did not even try to dispute it, but laid down their arms.
Accordingly the goldsmiths all entered the courtyard of the Grand-Nesle, thenceforth their property, and secured the door behind them, leaving the archers and sergeants outside.
Benvenuto, however, took no part in the latter proceedings; he still held Ascanio in his arms, having removed his coat of mail, torn away his doublet, and finally reached the wound, and was stanching the flow of blood with his handkerchief.
"My Ascanio, my child!" he said again and again; "wounded, wounded by me! what will thy mother in heaven say? Forgive me, Stefana, forgive me! Art thou in pain? tell me. Does my hand hurt thee? Will this accursed blood never stop? A surgeon, quickly! Pray, will not some one call a surgeon?"
Jacques Aubry ran out of the courtyard at the top of his speed.
"It is nothing, dear master, it is nothing," said Ascanio; "a mere scratch on my arm.—Don't feel so terribly, for I assure you it's nothing."
The surgeon, brought to the hotel by Jacques Aubry five minutes later, confirmed Ascanio's assurance that the wound was not dangerous, although quite deep, and at once set about bandaging it.
"Ah! what a weight you lift from my heart!" said Cellini. "Then I am not thy murderer, dear child! But what is the matter, my Ascanio? thy pulse is beating madly, and the blood rushing to thy face! O Monsieur le Chirurgien, we must take him away from here,—the fever is laying hold of him."
"No, no, master," said Ascanio, "on the contrary I feel much better. Leave me here, leave me here, I implore you!"
"My father?" suddenly inquired a voice behind Benvenuto, which made him jump; "what have you done with my father?"
Benvenuto turned and saw Colombe, pale and rigid, seeking the provost with her glance, as she asked for him with her voice.
"Oh! he is safe and sound, Mademoiselle! safe and sound, thanks be to Heaven!" cried Ascanio.
"Thanks be to this poor boy, who received the blow intended for him," said Benvenuto, "for you may truly say that this gallant fellow saved your life, Monsieur le Prévôt.—How's this? where are you, Messire Robert?" exclaimed Cellini, looking about for the provost, whose disappearance he could not understand.
"He is here, master," said Hermann.
"Where, pray?"
"Here, in the little prison."
"O Monsieur Benvenuto!" cried Colombe, darting to the shed with a gesture of mingled entreaty and reproach.
"Open, Hermann," said Cellini.
Hermann obeyed, and the provost appeared in the doorway, somewhat humiliated by his misadventure. Colombe threw herself into his arms.
"O father! father!" she cried; "are you not wounded? has no harm befallen you?" and as she spoke she looked at Ascanio.
"No," said the provost in his harsh voice, "no, thank Heaven! nothing has happened to me."
"And—and—" queried Colombe, in a faltering tone, "is it true that this youth—"
"I cannot deny that he arrived at just the right time."
"Yes," interposed Cellini, "yes, at the right time to receive the sword thrust which I intended for you, Monsieur le Prévôt. Yes, Mademoiselle Colombe, yes," he added, "you owe your father's life to this brave fellow, and if Monsieur le Prévôt doesn't proclaim it from the housetops, he is an ingrate as well as a liar."
"I trust that his rescuer will not have to pay too dearly for his gallantry," rejoined Colombe, blushing at her own audacity.
"O Mademoiselle!" cried Ascanio, "I would gladly have shed all my blood in such a cause!"
"Well, well, Messire le Prévôt," said Cellini, "see what tender emotions you have caused to spring up. But Ascanio may not be able to bear the excitement. The bandage is in place, and it would be well for him, I think, to take a little rest now."
What Benvenuto had said to the provost of the service rendered him by the wounded man was no more than the truth; and as every truth has an innate strength of its own, the provost in his heart could but admit that he owed his life to Ascanio. He therefore put a good face on the matter, and approached the wounded man, saying:—
"Young man, an apartment in my hotel is at your service."
"In your hotel, Messire Robert!" exclaimed Cellini, with a laugh, for his good humor returned as his anxiety on Ascanio's account vanished; "in your hotel? Why, do you really wish to begin the battle over again?"
"What!" cried the provost, "do you claim the right to turn my daughter and myself out of doors?"
"By no means, Messire. You now occupy the Petit-Nesle. Very good! keep the Petit-Nesle, and let us live on such terms as good neighbors should. Be good enough, Messire, to make no opposition to Ascanio's being at once made comfortable in the Grand-Nesle, where we will join him this evening. Thereafter, if you prefer war—"
"O father!" cried Colombe.
"No! peace!" said the provost.
"There can be no peace without conditions, Monsieur le Prévôt. Do me the honor to accompany me to the Grand-Nesle, or the favor to receive me at the Petit, and we will draw up our treaty."
"I will go with you, Monsieur," said the provost.
"So be it!"
"Mademoiselle," said D'Estourville then to his daughter, "be good enough to return to your apartments and await my return there."
Colombe, notwithstanding the harsh tone in which this command was uttered, presented her forehead to her father to kiss, and with a courtesy addressed to everybody present, so that Ascanio might come in for a share of it, she withdrew.
Ascanio followed her with his eyes until she disappeared. As there was nothing further to detain him in the courtyard, he asked to be taken inside. Hermann thereupon took him under the arms as if he were a child, and transported him to the Grand-Nesle.
"On my word, Messire Robert," said Benvenuto, who had also looked after the maiden while she was in sight, "on my word! you were very judicious to send my late prisoner away, and I thank you for the precaution,—on my honor I do. I am free to say that Mademoiselle Colombe's presence might have been prejudicial to my interests by making me too weak, and too willing to forget that I am a victor, to remember simply that I am an artist,—that is to say, a lover of every perfect form and of all divine beauty."
Messire d'Estourville acknowledged the compliment by a decidedly ungracious contortion of his features; he followed the goldsmith, however, without outwardly manifesting his ill-humor, but mumbling dire threats beneath his breath. Cellini, to put the finishing touch to his mortification, begged him to go over his new abode with him. The invitation was conveyed in such courteous terms that it was impossible to decline. The provost therefore accompanied his neighbor, who showed him no mercy, and left not a corner of the garden nor a room in the château unvisited.
"Ah! this is truly magnificent," said Benvenuto when they had finished the tour of inspection, during which they were actuated by widely opposed emotions. "Now, Monsieur le Prévôt, I can understand and excuse your repugnance to give up this property; but I need not say that you will be most welcome whenever you may choose, as to-day, to do me the honor of calling upon me in my poor abode."
"You forget, Monsieur, that I am here to-day for no other purpose than to listen to your conditions and state my own. I am ready to listen."
"How so, Messire Robert? On the contrary, I am at your service. But if you choose to allow me first to make known my wishes to you, you will then be free to give expression to your own."
"Say on."
"First of all, the one essential clause."
"What is that?"
"It is this:—
"ARTICLE I.—Messire Robert d'Estourville doth concede Benvenuto Cellini's right to the property called the Grand-Nesle, doth freely abandon it to him, and doth renounce all claim thereto forever, for himself and his heirs."
"Accepted," said the provost. "But if it should please the king to take from you what he has now taken from me, and to give to some other what he has now given to you, I am not to be held responsible."
"Ouais!" said Cellini, "there's some mischievous mental reservation hidden in that, Monsieur le Prévôt. But no matter; I shall know how to retain what I have won. Let us pass to the next."
"'T is my turn," said the provost.
"That is no more than fair."
"ARTICLE II.—Benvenuto Cellini agrees to make no attack upon the Petit-Nesle, which is and is to remain the property of Robert d'Estourville; furthermore, he will not even attempt to gain a footing there as a neighbor, and under the guise of friendship."
"Very good," said Benvenuto, "although the clause is by no means conceived in kindness; but if the door is thrown open to me I shall not show myself so devoid of courtesy as to refuse to enter."
"I will give orders to avert that possibility," retorted the provost.
"Let us to the next."
"I continue:—
"ARTICLE III.—The first courtyard, between the Grand and Petit Nesles, shall be common to both estates."
"That is quite right," said Benvenuto, "and you will do me the justice to believe that if Mademoiselle Colombe desires to go out, I shall not keep her a prisoner."
"Oh! never fear: my daughter will go in and out by a door which I undertake to have cut in the wall. I simply wish to make sure of an entrance for carriages and wagons."
"Is that all?"
"Yes," replied Messire Robert. "Apropos," he added, "I trust that you will allow me to remove my furniture."
"That is no more than fair. Your furniture is yours, as the Grand-Nesle is mine. Now, Messire le Prévôt, let us add one more clause to the treaty,—a clause purely benevolent in its purpose."
"State it."
"ARTICLE IV. and last.—Messire Robert d'Estourville and Benvenuto Cellini lay aside all ill will, and loyally and sincerely agree to abide in peace."
"I accept the article, but only in so far as it does not bind me to bear aid to you against those who may attack you. I agree to do nothing to injure you, but I do not agree to make myself agreeable to you."
"As to that, Monsieur le Prévôt, you know perfectly well that I can defend myself alone, do you not? If there is no objection now on your part," added Cellini, passing the pen to him, "sign, Monsieur le Prévôt, sign." "I will sign," said the provost, suiting the action to the word, and each of the contracting parties retained a copy of the treaty.
This formality at an end, Messire d'Estourville returned to the Petit-Nesle, being in great haste to scold poor Colombe for her rash expedition. Colombe hung her head, and let him say what he chose, not hearing a single word of his reproaches; for during all the time that they endured the girl was engrossed by a single longing, to ask her father for news of Ascanio. But it was useless: try as hard as she would, she could not force the wounded youth's name beyond her lips.
While these things were taking place on one side of the wall, on the other side, Catherine, who had been sent for from the church, made her entry into the Grand-Nesle; the fascinating madcap threw herself into Benvenuto's arms, pressed Ascanio's hand, complimented Hermann, made sport of Pagolo, laughed, wept, sang, asked questions, all in the same breath. She had suffered terribly, for the reports of fire-arms had reached her ears and interrupted her prayers again and again. But now everything was all right, everybody had come out safe and sound from the battle, save four dead and three wounded men, and Scozzone's high spirits did homage to both victory and victors.
When the uproar caused by Catherine's arrival had subsided in some measure, Ascanio remembered the motive which brought the student to the spot so opportunely. He turned to Benvenuto and said:—
"Master, my comrade Jacques Aubry and I were to try our hands at a game of tennis to-day. In good sooth, I am hardly in condition to be his partner, as our friend Hermann says. He has assisted us so gallantly in our undertaking, however, that I venture to beg you to take my place."
"With all my heart," said Benvenuto; "but you must look to yourself, Master Jacques Aubry."
"I will try, I will try, Messire."
"We shall sup together afterward, and you know that the victor will be expected to drink two bottles more than his vanquished opponent."
"Which means that I shall be carried home dead drunk, Master Benvenuto. Vive la joie! this suits me. Ah! the devil! there's Simonne waiting for me, too! Pshaw! I had to wait for her last Sunday. It's her turn to-day, so much the worse for her."
With that the two seized balls and rackets, and hied them to the garden.