The Women's War

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The Women's War Page 52

by Alexandre Dumas


  ‘So is it certain that he will die?’

  ‘In the same way as Richon. It will be a complete reprisal. But we are chatting here, and no doubt he is anxiously awaiting your reply.’

  ‘Go and bring him, Monsieur, and believe me when I say that I am grateful for both of us.’

  The officer went out, opened the door of the adjoining cell and Cauvignac, a little pale, but with a firm step and head high, came into Canolles’s cell as Canolles stepped forward to greet him.

  The officer made a final sign of farewell to Canolles, looked pityingly at Cauvignac and left, taking his soldiers with him. It was some time before their heavy steps had ceased to echo through the vaults.

  The warder soon made his rounds. They heard his keys clanking in the corridor.

  Cauvignac was not downcast, because he was a man with an unshakeable confidence in himself and an inexhaustible belief in the future. And yet a deep feeling of grief had insinuated itself beneath his calm appearance and almost jolly expression and, like a serpent, was biting his heart. This sceptical mind which had always doubted everything was now dubious about doubt itself.

  Since Richon’s death, Cauvignac had not eaten or slept. Accustomed to jest about the misfortunes of others, because he accepted his own with a laugh, our philosopher had not even thought to smile at an event which had come to this dreadful conclusion; moreover, despite himself, he sensed the impassive hand of Providence in all the mysterious threads that made him responsible for Richon’s death, so that he was starting, if not to believe in rewards for good acts, at least in punishment for evil ones.

  So he turned to resignation and thought; but, resigned as he was, as we have said, he neither ate nor slept.

  And such was the unusual nature of this soul, which while being individual was not egotistic, the thing that struck him even more than his own death, which he anticipated, was the death of this companion, whom he knew to be only a couple of yards away from him and awaiting either the fatal decree or execution without decree. All this reminded him again of Richon, his vengeful ghost, and the double catastrophe that was the outcome of what at first had seemed to him merely a delightful jest.

  His first thought had been to escape, because even though he was a prisoner on parole, since by putting him in prison they had failed to fulfil their agreement with him, he thought that he need have no remorse in disregarding his own promises. But, despite his perspicacity and ingenuity, he had had to accept that escape was impossible. It was then that he became all the more convinced that he was caught in the meshes of some inexorable fate. Henceforth all he wanted was one thing: to speak for a few moments with his companion, whose name had caused him such sad surprise, and to be reconciled in himself with the whole of that human race, against which he had so cruelly offended.

  We are not saying that all his thoughts were of remorse. No… Cauvignac was far too philosophical to feel that; but, at the least, what he did feel was something much like remorse, namely a violent regret at having done ill to no end. With time and circumstances that might keep Cauvignac in this state of mind, the feeling might have had the same outcome as remorse, but time was what they did not have.

  As he came into Canolles’s cell, Cauvignac first waited, with his customary caution, until the officer who had shown him in had left. Then, seeing that the door was properly shut and the little Judas window19 hermetically sealed, he went over to Canolles (who, as we have said, had made a few steps towards him) and they shook hands.

  Despite the gravity of the situation, Cauvignac could not avoid smiling when he recognized the handsome, elegant young man, with the adventurous spirit and joyful temperament, whom he had already twice surprised in very different circumstances from those in which they now found themselves: once having sent him to Nantes and the other time having brought him to Saint-Georges. Moreover, he recalled the momentary appropriation of his name and the resulting trick played on the duke. And, gloomy though the prison was, this memory was such a happy one that for a second the past took precedence over the present.

  Canolles, for his part, recognized Cauvignac at first sight, having already been in contact with him in the two circumstances that we have mentioned, and since on those occasions Cauvignac had been a messenger of good news for him, his distress over the fate awaiting the poor man increased, all the more since he knew that it was his own salvation that had doomed Cauvignac. Such a thought, in a soul as delicate as that of Canolles, caused far greater feelings of remorse than a real crime would have caused to his companion.

  So he greeted him in the most kindly way.

  ‘Well, Baron,’ Cauvignac said. ‘What do you think about the situation we are in? It seems to me quite precarious.’

  ‘Yes, we are prisoners, and God knows when we’ll get out of here,’ Canolles replied, putting a good face on it in an attempt at least to ease his companion’s pain with hope.

  ‘When we get out!’ Cauvignac replied. ‘May God, whom you mentioned, be so good in his mercy to make it as late as possible! But I don’t think he’s inclined to give us much grace. Out of my cell, I saw, as you may have from yours, a raging mob running towards a certain place which must be the Esplanade, unless I am much mistaken. You know the Esplanade, dear Baron, and what it is used for?’

  ‘Oh, come! I think you’re exaggerating our plight. Yes, the crowd was running towards the Esplanade, but no doubt to witness the handing out of some military punishment, surely. It would be outrageous to make us pay for Richon’s death, because both of us are innocent of it.’

  Cauvignac shuddered and stared at Canolles with an expression of gloom that gradually faded to one of pity. ‘Well, well,’ he said to himself. ‘Here’s another one who doesn’t know the danger he’s in. I shall have to set him straight on it, because there’s no point in deluding him so that the blow will be even harder to bear later, while at least, when you’ve had time to prepare yourself, the drop seems a little gentler.’

  So, after a new moment of silence and thought, he took Canolles’s hands and continued to stare hard at him with a look that Canolles found quite upsetting, saying: ‘Monsieur, my dear Monsieur, let’s ask for a bottle or two of that good Braune wine that you know of, if you will. Alas, I should have drunk it at leisure had I been a governor for longer, and I can admit to you that it is even probable that my liking for that excellent wine was what made me ask for the government of that place in particular. God is punishing my greed.’

  ‘Very well,’ said Canolles.

  ‘Yes, and I’ll tell you all about it as we drink – and if the news is bad, then at least the wine will be good. One will help to swallow the other.’

  So Canolles knocked at the door, but there was no answer. He knocked again, and after a while a child who was playing in the corridor came over to the prisoner.

  ‘What do you want?’ the child asked.

  ‘Wine,’ said Canolles. ‘Tell your papa to bring two bottles.’

  The child went off and reappeared a moment later.

  ‘Papa is busy at the moment talking to a gentleman,’ he said. ‘He will come presently.’

  ‘Excuse me,’ Cauvignac said. ‘Might I ask a question of my own?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘My good friend,’ he said in his most ingratiating voice, ‘who is the gentleman your papa is talking to?’

  ‘A tall gentleman.’

  ‘What a delightful child,’ said Cauvignac. ‘Wait, we’ll learn something from him. And how is the gentleman dressed?’

  ‘All in black.’

  ‘The devil he is! Do you hear that? All in black. And what’s the name of this tall gentleman, all in black? Do you happen to know that, my young friend?’

  ‘He’s called Monsieur Lavie.’

  ‘Ah!’ said Cauvignac. ‘The king’s advocate. I don’t think we have much harm to fear from him. So let’s take advantage of the fact that they’re talking to have a chat ourselves.’ And, slipping a coin under the door, he went on: ‘Here, my little
friend, this is to buy marbles. It’s a good thing to make friends wherever you are,’ he added, getting up.

  The child took the coin with delight and thanked the two prisoners.

  ‘So, you were saying, Monsieur…’ said Canolles.

  ‘Ah… yes,’ Cauvignac replied. ‘I was saying that you appear to be much mistaken as to the fate that awaits us when we leave this prison. You are talking about the Esplanade, military discipline, whipping for some strangers. Now, I should be inclined to think that something more than that is coming and that we are the ones concerned.’

  ‘Come, come!’ said Canolles.

  ‘Ah, Monsieur, you see things in a less sombre light than I, perhaps because you do not have quite the same reason to fear them as I do. But don’t congratulate yourself too much on your situation; it’s not too wonderful, either. But yours is nothing to mine, and mine, I have to tell you, because this is what I believe, is a horrible mess. Do you know who I am?’

  ‘That’s a strange question! As far as I know, you’re Captain Cauvignac, Governor of Braune.’

  ‘Yes, for the time being, but I have not always had this name or held that title. I’ve often changed my name and tried out different ranks: for example, one day I called myself Baron de Canolles, just like you.’ Canolles stared at Cauvignac, who went on: ‘Yes, yes, I understand: you’re wondering if I’m mad, aren’t you? Well, have no fear, I am in full possession of my mental faculties and have never been so reasonable in my life.’

  ‘Explain yourself, then,’ said Canolles.

  ‘Nothing could be easier. The Duke d’Epernon… You know the duke, I believe?’

  ‘By name. I’ve never seen him.’

  ‘You are fortunate. As I say, Monsieur d’Epernon once discovered me in the house of a woman, where I knew you were also welcome, and I took the liberty of borrowing your name.’

  ‘Monsieur, what do you mean?’

  ‘Now, now, don’t get worked up. You won’t be so self-centred as to feel jealous about one woman just as you are going to marry another! And even if you were – as you could well be, man being a rotten sort of beast – you’ll forgive me shortly. We’re too close now to quarrel.’

  ‘I don’t understand a word you are saying.’

  ‘I’m saying that I have the right to be treated as a brother, or at least a brother-in-law.’

  ‘You’re talking in riddles, and I still don’t understand.’

  ‘Well, one word, and you will. My true name is Roland de Lartigues, and Nanon is my sister.’

  Canolles switched from suspicion to a sudden rush of feeling.

  ‘Why, you’re Nanon’s brother!’ he exclaimed. ‘Oh, you poor man!’

  ‘Yes, poor man indeed,’ said Cauvignac. ‘You said it, you put your finger right on it, because among a host of other unpleasantnesses that will arise from my little trial here, I also have the disadvantage of being called Roland de Lartigues and being Nanon’s brother. You know that my dear sister is not the sweetest-smelling flower in the nostrils of these gentlemen of Bordeaux. If they find out that I am Nanon’s brother, I shall be three times lost – and we have here one La Rochefoucauld and one Lenet who know everything.’

  What Cauvignac was saying brought back old memories to Canolles, who said: ‘Now I understand why poor Nanon once called me her brother in a letter. Dearest girl!’

  ‘Yes, indeed, she’s a good woman and I am very sorry that I have not always followed her advice to the letter; but, of course, if we could foresee the future, we should have no need of God.’

  ‘And how is she?’ asked Canolles.

  ‘Who can tell! Poor woman, she is certainly in despair, not over me, since she does not know I have been arrested, but about you, since she may have learned your fate.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Canolles. ‘Lenet won’t say that you are Nanon’s brother, and Monsieur de La Rochefoucauld has no reason to hold anything against you. No one will know anything about this.’

  ‘While no one may know about this, there is something else they will know, for example, that I am the one who gave a particular letter of attestation… and that this letter of attestation… Ah, well! Let’s not think about it, if we can. What a shame that no wine is coming.’ He turned to the door. ‘There’s nothing like wine to help you forget.’

  ‘Now, now, courage!’ said Canolles.

  ‘Pardieu! Do you think I’m a coward? You’ll see, at the crucial moment when we go for a walk on the Esplanade. There’s just one thing bothering me: will they shoot us, behead us or hang us?’

  ‘Hang us!’ Canolles cried. ‘Good God! We’re gentlemen. They wouldn’t commit such an outrage against the nobility!’

  ‘Just see if they’re not capable of picking holes in my family tree… And then…’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘Will you or I be the first to go?’

  ‘But for heaven’s sake, my dear friend, don’t think about such things. Nothing could be less certain than this death that you are worried about in advance. No one is judged, condemned and executed like that in one night.’

  ‘Listen,’ said Cauvignac, ‘I was there when they tried poor Richon, God rest his soul! Well, the trial, sentence and hanging all took at the very most three or four hours. Let’s slow things down a bit, because Anne of Austria is Queen of France, while Madame de Condé is only a princess of the blood, and that gives us four or five hours. And, as it’s three hours since we were arrested, and two hours since we appeared in front of our judges, that gives us, by my calculation, one or two hours left to live. It’s not long.’

  ‘In any case, they will at least wait until daylight to execute us.’

  ‘Ah, that’s not at all certain. An execution by torchlight is a very fine thing. True, it costs more, but since the princess has a great need for the people of Bordeaux just now, she might decide to bear the extra expense.’

  ‘Hush!’ said Canolles. ‘I can hear footsteps.’

  ‘Damn it!’ said Cauvignac, going a little pale.

  ‘They must be bringing up the wine.’

  ‘Oh, yes!’ said Cauvignac, staring very closely at the door. ‘There is that. If the jailer comes in with two bottles, that’s good; but otherwise…’

  The door opened, and the jailer came in with two bottles.

  Cauvignac and Canolles exchanged a meaningful look, but the jailer took no notice. He seemed in such a hurry, time was so short, and it was so dark in the dungeon…

  He closed the door and came inside. Then, going over to the prisoners and taking a sheet of paper out of his pocket, he said: ‘Which of you two is the Baron de Canolles?’

  ‘Damn!’ they both said together, exchanging another look.

  However, Canolles hesitated to reply and so did Cauvignac: the first had had the name for too long to think that the question was addressed to him, while the other had had it long enough to fear that it would catch up with him.

  Canolles realized that some reply had to be made.

  ‘That’s me,’ he said.

  The jailer came over to him.

  ‘You’re the governor of a fortress?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But I’m also the governor of a fortress and I’ve been called Canolles as well,’ said Cauvignac. ‘Let’s be quite clear about this and make no mistakes. What happened to poor Richon was bad enough, without me causing the death of another man.’

  ‘So you are called Canolles now?’ asked the jailer.

  ‘Yes,’ said Canolles.

  ‘And you were called Canolles earlier?’ the jailer asked Cauvignac.

  ‘Yes,’ he replied. ‘Earlier. Just for one day. And I’m starting to think it was not such a good idea.’

  ‘And both of you are governors of fortresses?’

  ‘Yes,’ Canolles and Cauvignac replied simultaneously.

  ‘Now, one last question that will make everything clear…’ The two prisoners listened in the deepest silence. ‘Which of the two of you,’ said the jailer, ‘is
the brother of Madame Nanon de Lartigues?’

  At this Cauvignac made a face that would have been comic at any less solemn moment.

  ‘Didn’t I tell you?’ he interjected, turning to Canolles. ‘Didn’t I tell you, my dear friend, that this was the weak point where they would attack?’ Then, turning to the jailer, he asked: ‘And if I told you that I am the one who is Madame Nanon de Lartigues’s brother, what would you say to me, friend?’

  ‘I should tell you to follow me at once.’

  ‘Damn it!’ said Cauvignac.

  ‘But she has also called me her brother,’ said Canolles, trying to draw off some of the lightning that was clearly gathering above his unfortunate companion’s head.

  ‘One moment, now,’ Cauvignac said, stepping in front of the jailer and taking Canolles to one side. ‘One moment, my good fellow. It’s not right that you should be Nanon’s brother in these circumstances. I have made others pay for me often enough before this, and it’s only fair that I should pay now.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Canolles asked.

  ‘Oh, I haven’t got time. In any case, you can see that our jailer is starting to stamp his foot with impatience. It’s all right, friend, it’s all right, calm down, I’m coming with you. Farewell, my dear friend,’ he went on. ‘At least I’m assured of one thing: I’m going first. I pray God that you don’t follow me too closely. All that remains to be seen is the form of death. The devil! As long as it’s not the rope! Hey, I’m coming, I’m coming, by God! You’re in an awful hurry, my good fellow. So, my dear brother, my dear brother-in-law, my dear companion, my dear friend… A last farewell, and goodnight!’

  Cauvignac took a step nearer Canolles and held out his hand. Canolles took the hand in his and pressed it affectionately. As he was doing so, Cauvignac was looking at him with a peculiar expression.

  ‘What do you want?’ asked Canolles. ‘Do you have a request for me?’

 

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