The Cardinal's Musketeer by Mary Imlay Taylor

IT was one o'clock when Péron rode through St. Denis, and a light spring rain was falling; through the mist he saw the blurred lights of the guardhouse and he heard the tolling of the abbey bell. It was dreary enough, and so were his meditations; at the very moment when he seemed to have succeeded, misfortune again assailed him. He had staked his honor and his life upon the mission to Brussels, and he had executed it only to lose all that he had gained by this last trick of fate. It seemed as if peril, conspiracy, and murder had tracked his footsteps ever since the night when good Madame Michel had held him in her arms in the woods of Nancay, praying and weeping by turns over the bereaved infant. His peaceful childhood on the Rue de la Ferronnerie, the happiness of his boyhood with Condé, were after all but intervals in the drama of his eventful life. The hour, the rain, the lonely road, all depressed his usually buoyant spirits and chilled his blood; he recalled a story which Jacques des Horloges was fond of reciting -- of a noble family in which every male died a violent death. It required an effort to shake off his lethargy, to direct his attention to his horse, which stumbled more than once in the mire, and to concentrate his mind upon his errand. If Archambault's story was true, he had seven or eight hours the start of the conspirators, and it would go hard with him if he did not defeat them; in any event, there was a hope left, and that a strong one, that Père Matthieu would never be outwitted.

With all this, fate beset Péron on every side. He had been willing to sacrifice himself for Renée de Nancay, to endure an injustice rather than crush her with the shame of her father's villainy, but was he prepared to do the same for Madame de Bièvre? And why not? Had he ever dreamed of wedding mademoiselle? Surely not; to wed her he must proclaim his rank; and if he proclaimed it, they would be separated forever. Then, he argued, if he could not marry her, doubtless she would have married in any case, and why should he find it hard to shield her as a wife? Ah, but he did! The difference was there, and sharp enough to make him wince.