Chapter II: A Robber

The man who had halted in front of Léodgard was tall and strong, and seemed rather young than old; he was so strangely attired, that, after meeting him once, it would be difficult not to remember him.

A black doublet fitted close to his body, like a silk shirt; he wore laced half-boots; a leather belt, in which were thrust pistols and a poniard; and a broad baldric, from which hung a short sabre--a sort of dagger with a very broad blade. All this part of his costume was concealed by an ample caftan of olive-green cloth, which had a hood of the same material, and which we may compare to a modern _caban_.[A] His head was covered with a red cap, trimmed with long wild boar's hair. This cap was pulled down so far that one could hardly see his eyes; only a long, thin nose could be distinguished, the lower part of the face being completely hidden by moustaches and a heavy beard of the same color as the hair on his cap.

[A] A thick woollen cloak, with a hood.

All these details formed a most unprepossessing whole, and gave the man the aspect of a porcupine.

But one was taken by surprise when there came from that bearded face, instead of a harsh and threatening voice, a soft, almost melodious sound; there was in the bandit's speech something mellow and vibrating, which, with a rather pronounced Italian accent, gave it a decided charm.

Léodgard raised his head and was completely taken aback when he saw this individual standing in front of him; but, instead of complying with his suggestion and refraining from putting his purse away, he instantly withdrew his arm, replaced the gold in his belt, and, stepping back, scrutinized the robber; who stood quietly in his place and submitted to the examination, like one who was in no hurry at all and was content to await the convenience of the traveller he proposed to plunder.

"Pardieu! I cannot be mistaken," cried Léodgard, after a moment; "you are the famous Giovanni, the Italian robber, but lately arrived in France, who has already filled Paris with the fame of his exploits, his audacity, and, above all, his address!"

The man in the olive-green caftan bent his head slightly, replying in a flute-like voice, as if highly flattered by the compliment:

"Yes, signor, I am he."

"Ah! By my faith, I do not regret the meeting! Since the beginning of the winter, I have heard so much of you and your prowess, Master Giovanni, that I have more than once longed to make your acquaintance. For you are no ordinary robber--everybody does you that justice; you are ceremonious and well-mannered, and, it is said, very agreeable to the persons you rob. That is a decided change for us; our French thieves are so vulgar, such pitiful wretches! Come, since chance has served me so well to-night, let us talk a little. Have you a few moments to give me before we decide the fate of this purse?"

"I shall be very glad to talk with you, signor; I have time enough, for yours is the last business I shall do to-night."

"And it will not be the most profitable for you, I warn you, Giovanni; for I am not in the mood to give up my purse to you; it is too well filled for that!"

The robber's only reply was a satirical laugh.

Léodgard de Marvejols had found a stone, on which he seated himself; Giovanni remained standing with arms folded, and the conversation began.

"Why did you leave your beautiful Italy to come to France? Would you not be more at ease in the vast plains that surround Rome, or on the slopes of the Pausilippo, or lying lazily beside the blue sea that bathes the feet of Naples, than in this dark and filthy street, beneath this gray sky, in this cold mist which chills us to the bone as it clings to our garments?"

"The sky of Italy is beautiful, signor, but love of change lies deep in the heart of man."

"That is true; I grant you that. Moreover, since the days of Queen Catherine de' Medici, of sinister memory, it seems that all Italians have agreed to meet in Paris. We see your compatriots everywhere--at court, in the city, in exalted positions, in the finances. The Italians have brought us poisons,--with the way to make use of them,--the art of telling fortunes by cards, of reading the stars, of learning the future.--I try in vain to think what they have given us in exchange for all this----"

"Music, signor."

"Ah! to be sure: music! They do, in fact, sing better than we do; but, frankly, I do not think that that makes the balance even. I should have supposed that Concini's tragic end would have allayed to some extent the ardor of your compatriots for living in Paris. But I see that it is not so, and that we have not yet seen the last of the Italians."

"One finds much to entertain one in France, signor."

"That must needs be so, since everybody desires to come here!--But tell me,--for your manners and language seem to denote a man of some education, and that you are not such a devil as you seek to appear, with that shocking cap, in which you probably disguise yourself for a purpose,--what train of events has led you to adopt the hazardous profession in which you are now so famous? Do you feel disposed to tell me?--For my own part, I confess that I am very curious to know your adventures, assuming that you are not resolved to keep them secret."

"Mon Dieu! signor, I am ready to gratify you: the events of my life are very simple--like those that come to multitudes of young men in all lands. I am the son of a most respectable physician of Florence; indeed, my father had amassed some wealth; he desired to make me a _dottore_ like himself, but I had not the slightest calling for the medical profession. By way of compensation, I had a decided calling for gambling, the joys of love, and of the table. I played, and contracted debts. At first, my father paid them; but in time he tired of paying money for me; he besought me to abandon the sort of life I was leading. _Que diavolo!_--it was too late, the twig was bent! I allowed myself to be led astray by fellows to whom all means of procuring money were justifiable. I left Florence, I changed my name, from regard for my family, and I followed the current. One travels rapidly on that road! As I was dexterous and fearless, I soon left behind all those whose imitator I had been. I became famous at Naples, at Rome, at Milan, throughout Italy. But my description was spread broadcast, and, in spite of the care with which I concealed my features, I was obliged to leave my native land. Then it was that I came to France, to Paris, where I have been plying my trade for six months, in the teeth of the watch, and despite the efforts of the police and of monsieur le cardinal's bloodhounds. However, I will confess to you in confidence that I have as yet found no one among all your lovely Frenchwomen comparable to the pretty girls of Florence and Milan. I have left some tender memories in those cities. Indeed, I would stake my head that I am not yet entirely forgotten there; and on my own part--but, pardon me! I am too loquacious, I abuse your patience.--That is my story, signor; as you see, there is nothing very extraordinary in it."

While listening to the robber, Léodgard had become gloomy and pensive; his head had fallen on his breast, and it was difficult to say whether he was still listening or was lost in thought.

Giovanni, having for some moments refrained from disturbing the silence of the young man to whom he had related his adventures, said at last:

"I beg pardon, signor; I have told you what you wished to know, but the night is hastening, and I must soon think of returning to my lair. So, give me your purse, and I will take leave of you."

"Have you any companions, any confederates?" asked Léodgard abruptly, without answering the robber.

"No, indeed; I am no such fool! I work alone, and I am the better for so doing. If I had had confederates, I should have been caught long ago! As you must know, in all ranks of society, a man is never betrayed, except by his own people. Come, my young gentleman, let us finish our business. I know that this street abounds in memories, and that it is well worth while to pause and consider it. A few steps from here, during the night of June 13, 1392, the Connétable Olivier de Clisson, coming from the Hôtel Saint-Pol, where he had supped with the king, was treacherously assaulted and murdered by Pierre de Craon, chamberlain and favorite of the Duc d'Orléans, brother of King Charles VI. By a most fortunate chance, Clisson wore a coat of mail under his clothes; he received more than sixty sword and knife thrusts which did not reach his body; but he was finally wounded in the head and thrown from his horse; he fell against the door of a baker's shop, which was ajar, and his assassins took flight."

"Malpeste! Giovanni, so you know our history too!" said Léodgard, apparently taking pleasure in listening to the brigand.

"And why not, signor? I have told you that I am the son of a _dottore_!--And that Rue des Francs-Bourgeois, which you have just left--I have been following you for some time, you see--that Rue des Francs-Bourgeois will always figure in your annals. There it was that two miserable wretches lived toward the close of the last century--two poor brothers, beggars, in short, who possessed the talent of imitating perfectly the baying of a pack of hounds and the notes of a number of hunting horns. Certain leaders of the League formed the plan of using those beggars to lead your King Henri IV into a trap, knowing his passion for the chase. One day when the king was enjoying that sport in the forest of Vincennes, the noise of a pack of hounds, of horns, and of hunters, very distant at first, suddenly drew near; a black man, forcing his way through the underbrush, appeared before Henri IV and said to him in an awe-inspiring voice: 'Did you hear me?'--But neither the king nor any one of his train ventured to follow that man, who, it is said, was to have hurled a lance at the king if he had tried to come up with him. And all this was the work of the Leaguers and of the two beggars from Rue des Francs-Bourgeois!"

"By my faith, Master Giovanni, you have told me something that I did not know!--Pray go on; I see that one cannot fail to profit by your conversation."

"I am extremely sorry, my young gentleman, but I can talk no longer. As I reminded you just now, the hastening night forces me to retire, for I know that my description is so well known that it is impossible for me to show myself by daylight in this costume."

"Aha! that means that you have another for the sunlight? Pardieu! you are wise, for this one is very well known. Those persons who have had dealings with you have not failed to draw your portrait. I have already heard of this olive-green robe de chambre, so to speak, and of this horrible hairy cap."

"In that case, signor, you will understand that it is time for me to disappear."

"Very well! go! what prevents you? You have been too courteous to me for me to seek to cause your arrest. No, no! that would be a downright felony on my part!"

"In that case, signor, add to your complaisance the favor of handing me your purse, and I will go at once."

"My purse!" rejoined Léodgard, with a slight contraction of his heavy eyebrows; "you shall not have it! I told you that I would keep it. But as I do not wish to have made you talk for nothing, I will give you two pretty rose crowns."

"No, my young gentleman; I cannot assent to that bargain; I have told you that I must have your purse just as it is, and have it I will!"

"Come, then, and take it!"

As he spoke, Léodgard sprang to his feet and quickly drew his sword; then he glanced at Giovanni as if to defy him. The Italian did not show the slightest excitement, but simply shook his head, murmuring:

"Oh! I knew that the young Comte Léodgard de Marvejols was a gallant youth!"

"Ah! you know me, do you?"

"Per Dio! Do I not always know those whom I address? Otherwise I should run the risk of wasting my time by attacking poor devils without a sou!"

"But you might often have found me in that condition."

"I know that too; but to-night you played lansquenet at the Sire de Jarnonville's, and luck smiled upon you; that is why I attacked you."

"Clearly, you add to your other talents that of being a sorcerer. All Italians smell of the stake!"

"I should regret extremely, signor, to resort to my weapons; surely you must have been told that that is not my habit! I must always be driven to it. But if you do not give up your purse with a good grace----"

"No, a thousand times no! Do you expect to frighten me, I wonder?"

Giovanni gave the young count hardly time to finish his sentence; he drew his broad sword, and, leaping upon his adversary with a rapidity and address which left him no time to attack, in a few seconds he had sent Léodgard's gleaming rapier flying through the air; and placing the point of his weapon against the young nobleman's breast, with his left hand he swiftly took the purse from his belt, saying, with a slight movement of the head:

"You see, my young gentleman, it was not worth while to go through so many forms!"

And in an instant the brigand had vanished.

As for Léodgard, thoroughly ashamed of his discomfiture, he stood as if stupefied, and could only mutter:

"Beaten! beaten by that Giovanni!--Ah! I will have my revenge!"