CHAPTER III.
WHAT PASSED THREE NIGHTS LATER AT EIGHT HUNDRED LEAGUES FROM THE PALAISROYAL.
Three nights after that on which we have seen the regent, first atChelles and then at Meudon, a scene passed in the environs of Nanteswhich cannot be omitted in this history; we will therefore exercise ourprivilege of transporting the reader to that place.
On the road to Clisson, two or three miles from Nantes--near the conventknown as the residence of Abelard--was a large dark house, surrounded bythick stunted trees; hedges everywhere surrounded the inclosure outsidethe walls, hedges impervious to the sight, and only interrupted by awicket gate.
This gate led into a garden, at the end of which was a wall, having asmall, massive, and closed door. From a distance this grave and dismalresidence appeared like a prison; it was, however, a convent, full ofyoung Augustines, subject to a rule lenient as compared with provincialcustoms, but rigid as compared with those of Paris.
The house was inaccessible on three sides, but the fourth, which did notface the road, abutted on a large sheet of water; and ten feet above itssurface were the windows of the refectory.
This little lake was carefully guarded, and was surrounded by highwooden palisades. A single iron gate opened into it, and at the sametime gave a passage to the waters of a small rivulet which fed the lake,and the water had egress at the opposite end.
In the summer, a small boat belonging to the garden was seen on thewater, and was used for fishing.
Sometimes, also, in summer, on dark nights, the river-gate wasmysteriously opened, and a man, wrapped in a large brown cloak, silentlydropped into the little boat, which appeared to detach itself from itsfastenings, then glided quietly along, and stopped under one of thebarred windows of the refectory.
Soon a sound was heard, imitating the croaking of a frog or the cry ofthe owl so common there, and then a young girl would appear at thewindow, and pass her head through the opening between the bars, whichwere, however, too high for the man to reach. A low and tenderconversation was then carried on, and at length, after a different hourand a different signal had been agreed upon for their next interview,they separated, the boat disappeared, the gate shut gently, and theyoung girl closed the window with a sigh.
But now it was the month of February, and in the terrible winter of1719. The trees were powdered with hoar frost, and it was at this timeimpossible to glide quietly along in the little boat, for the lake wascovered with ice. And yet, in this biting cold, in this dark, starlessnight, a cavalier ventured alone into the open country, and along across-road which led to Clisson. He threw the reins on the neck of hishorse, which proceeded at a slow and careful pace.
Soon, however, in spite of his instinctive precaution, the poor animal,which had no light to guide him, struck against a stone and nearly fell.The rider soon perceived that his horse was lamed, and on seeing a trailof blood upon the snow, discovered that it was wounded.
The young man appeared seriously annoyed at the accident, and whiledeliberating what course to take, he heard a sound of horses' feet onthe same road; and, feeling sure that if they were pursuing him he couldnot escape them, he remounted his horse, drew aside behind some fallentrees, put his sword under his arm, drew out a pistol, and waited.
The cavalcade soon appeared; they were four in number, and rode silentlyalong, passing the group of trees which hid the cavalier, when suddenlythey stopped. One who appeared the chief alighted, took out a darklantern, and examined the road.
As they could not see far, they returned some steps, and, by the lightof their lantern, perceived the cavalier.
The sound of cocking pistols was now heard.
"Hola!" said the cavalier with the wounded horse, taking theinitiative; "who are you, and what do you want?"
"It is he," murmured two or three voices.
The man with the lantern advanced toward the cavalier.
"Advance one step further and you are a dead man," said the cavalier."Declare your name at once, that I may know with whom I have to deal."
"Shoot no one, Gaston de Chanlay," replied the man with the lantern,calmly; "and put up your pistols."
"Ah! it is the Marquis de Pontcalec."
"Yes; it is I."
"And what do you come here for, may I ask?"
"To demand some explanation of your conduct. Approach and reply, if youplease."
"The invitation is singular, marquis. If you wish for an answer, couldyou not ask it in other terms?"
"Approach, Gaston," said another voice; "we really wish to speak withyou."
"A la bonne heure," said Chanlay, "I recognize you there, Montlouis; butI confess I am not accustomed to M. de Pontcalec's manner ofproceeding."
"My manners are those of a frank and open Breton, monsieur," replied themarquis, "of one who has nothing to hide from his friends, and iswilling to be questioned as freely as he questions others."
"I join Montlouis," said another voice, "in begging Gaston to explainamicably. Surely it is not our interest to quarrel among ourselves."
"Thanks, Du Couedic," said De Chanlay, "I am of the same opinion; sohere I am"--and sheathing his sword at these words, the young man issuedfrom his retreat and approached the group.
"M. de Talhouet," said Pontcalec, in the tone of a man who has a rightto issue commands, "watch that no one approaches."
M. de Talhouet obeyed, and rode round in a circle, keeping both eyes andears open.
"And now," said the marquis, "let us put out our lantern, since we havefound our man!"
"Messieurs," said De Chanlay, "all this seems to me somewhat strange. Itappears that you were following me--that you were seeking for me, nowyou have found me, and may put out your lantern. What does it mean? Ifit is a joke, I confess I think both time and place ill-chosen."
"No, monsieur," replied Pontcalec, in his hard, dry voice, "it is not ajoke; it is an interrogatory."
"An interrogatory?" said De Chanlay, frowning.
"An explanation, rather," said Montlouis.
"Interrogatory or explanation, it matters not," said Pontcalec, "thething is too serious to argue about words. M. de Chanlay, I repeat,reply to our questions."
"You speak roughly, Marquis de Pontcalec," replied the chevalier.
"If I command, it is because I have the right to do so. Am I, or am Inot, your chief?"
"Certainly you are; but that is no reason for forgetting theconsideration which one gentleman owes to another."
"Monsieur de Chanlay, all these objections seem to me like shuffling.You have sworn to obey--do so now."
"I swore to obey," replied the chevalier, "but not as a servant."
"You swore to obey as a slave. Obey, then, or submit to the consequencesof your disobedience!"
"Monsieur le Marquis--!"
"My dear Gaston," cried Montlouis, "speak, I beg, as soon as possible:by a word you can remove all suspicion."
"Suspicion!" cried Gaston, pale with anger, "am _I_ suspected, then?"
"Certainly you are," said Pontcalec, with his ordinary roughness. "Doyou think if we did not suspect you we should amuse ourselves byfollowing you on such a night as this?"
"Oh, that is quite another matter!" said Gaston, coldly; "tell me yoursuspicions--I listen."
"Chevalier, remember the facts; we four were conspiring together, andwe did not seek your aid; you offered it, saying, that besides beingwilling to aid in the public good, you had a private revenge to serve inthis. Am I not right?"
"You are."
"We received you--welcomed you as a friend, as a brother; we told youall our hopes, all our plans; nay, more--you were elected, by chance,the one to strike the glorious blow. Each one of us offered to take yourpart, but you refused. Is it not so?"
"You have spoken the strictest truth, marquis."
"This very morning we drew the lots; this evening you should be on theroad to Paris. Instead of that, where do we find you? on the road toClisson, where are lodged the mortal enemies of Breton independence,where liv
es your sworn foe--the Marechal de Montesquieu."
"Ah! monsieur," said Gaston, scornfully.
"Reply by open words, and not by sneers: reply, M. de Chanlay, andquickly."
"Reply, Gaston," said Du Couedic and Montlouis, imploringly.
"And to what am I to reply?"
"You are to account for your frequent absence during the last twomonths--for the mystery which surrounds you--for refusing, as you do,once or twice weekly, to join our nightly meetings. We confess, Gaston,all this has made us uneasy; by a word you can reassure us."
"You see, monsieur, that you are proved guilty by hiding, instead ofpursuing your course."
"I did not pursue my course, because my horse was wounded; you may seethe stains of blood upon the road."
"But why did you hide?"
"Because I wished to know first who was pursuing me. Have I not the fearof being arrested, as well as yourselves?"
"And where are you going?"
"If you had followed my steps as you have done hitherto, you would havefound that my path did not lead to Clisson."
"Nor to Paris."
"I beg," said De Chanlay, "that you will trust me, and respect mysecret--a secret in which not only my own honor, but that of another, isconcerned. You do not know, perhaps--it may be exaggerated--how extremeis my delicacy on this point."
"Then it is a love-secret," said Montlouis.----"Yes, and the secret of afirst love," replied Gaston.
"All evasions," cried Pontcalec.
"Marquis!" said Gaston, haughtily.
"This is not saying enough, my friend," replied Du Couedic. "How can webelieve that you are going to a rendezvous in such weather, and thatthis rendezvous is not at Clisson--where, except the Augustine Convent,there is not a single house for two miles around."
"M. de Chanlay," said the Marquis de Pontcalec, in an agitated voice,"you swore to obey me as your chief, and to devote soul and body to ourholy cause. Monsieur, our undertaking is serious--our property, ourliberties, our lives and our honor are at stake;--will you reply clearlyand freely to the questions which I put to you in the name of all, so asto remove all doubts? If not, Gaston de Chanlay--by virtue of that rightwhich you gave me, of your own free will, over your life--if not, Ideclare, on my honor, I will blow your brains out with my own hand!"
A solemn silence followed these words; not one voice was raised todefend Gaston; he looked at each one in turn, and each one turned awayfrom him.
"Marquis," said the chevalier at length, in a tone of deep feeling, "notonly do you insult me by suspicions, but you grieve me by saying that Ican only remove those suspicions by declaring my secret. Stay," addedhe, drawing a pocketbook from his coat, and hastily penciling a fewwords on a leaf which he tore out; "stay, here is the secret you wish toknow; I hold it in one hand, and in the other I hold a loaded pistol.Will you make me reparation for the insult you have offered me? or, inmy turn, I give you my word as a gentleman that I will blow my brainsout. When I am dead, open my hand and read this paper; you will then seeif I deserved your suspicions."
And Gaston held the pistol to his head with the calm resolution whichshowed that he would keep his word.
"Gaston! Gaston!" cried Montlouis, while Du Couedic held his arm; "stop,in Heaven's name! Marquis, he would do as he said; pardon him, and hewill tell us all. Is it not so, Gaston? You will not have a secret fromyour brothers, who beg you, in the names of their wives and children, totell it them."
"Certainly," said the marquis, "I not only pardon but love him; he knowsit well. Let him but prove his innocence, and I will make him everyreparation, but, before that, nothing: he is young, and alone in theworld. He has not, like us, wives and children, whose happiness andwhose fortune he is risking; he stakes only his own life, and he holdsthat as cheaply as is usual at twenty years of age; but with his life herisks ours; and yet, let him say but one word showing a justification,and I will be the first to open my arms to him."
"Well, marquis," said Gaston, after a few moments' silence, "follow me,and you shall be satisfied."
"And we?" asked Montlouis and Du Couedic.
"Come, also, you are all gentlemen; I risk no more in confiding mysecret to all than to one."
The marquis called Talhouet, who had kept good watch, and now rejoinedthe group, and followed without asking what had passed.
All five went on but slowly, for Gaston's horse was lame; the chevalierguided them toward the convent, then to the little rivulet, and at tenpaces from the iron gate he stopped.
"It is here," said he.
"Here?"
"At the convent?"
"Yes, my friends; there is here, at this moment, a young girl whom Ihave loved since I saw her a year ago in the procession at the Fete Dieuat Nantes; she observed me also--I followed her, and sent her a letter."
"But how do you see her?" asked the marquis.
"A hundred louis won the gardener over to my interest; he has given me akey to this gate; in the summer I come in a boat to the convent wall;ten feet above the water is a window, where she awaits me. If it werelighter, you could see it from this spot--and, in spite of the darkness,I see it now."
"Yes, I understand how you manage in summer, but you cannot use the boatnow."
"True; but, instead, there is a coating of ice, on which I shall go thisevening; perhaps it will break and engulf me; so much the better, forthen, I hope, your suspicions would die with me."
"You have taken a load from my breast," said Montlouis.
"Ah! my poor Gaston, how happy you make me; for, remember, Du Couedicand I answered for you."
"Chevalier," said the marquis, "pardon and embrace us."
"Willingly, marquis; but you have destroyed a portion of my happiness."
"How so?"
"I wished my love to have been known to no one. I have so much need ofstrength and courage! Am I not to leave her to-night forever?"
"Who knows, chevalier? You look gloomily at the future."
"I know what I am saying, Montlouis."
"If you succeed--and with your courage and sang-froid you ought tosucceed--France is free: then she will owe her liberty to you, and youwill be master of your own fate."
"Ah! marquis, if I succeed, it will be for you; my own fate is fixed."
"Courage, chevalier; meanwhile, let us see how you manage these loveaffairs."
"Still mistrust, marquis?"
"Still; my dear Gaston, I mistrust myself: and, naturally enough; afterbeing named your chief, all the responsibility rests on me, and I mustwatch over you all."
"At least, marquis, I am as anxious to reach the foot of that wall asyou can be to see me, so I shall not keep you waiting long."
Gaston tied his horse to a tree; by means of a plank thrown across, hepassed the stream, opened the gate, and then, following the palisades soas to get away from the stream, he stepped upon the ice, which crackedunder his feet.
"In Heaven's name," cried Montlouis, "be prudent."
"Look, marquis," said Gaston.
"I believe you; I believe you, Gaston."
"You give me fresh courage," replied the chevalier.
"And now, Gaston, one word more. When shall you leave?"
"To-morrow at this time, marquis, I shall probably be thirty leagues onthe way to Paris."
"Come back and let us embrace, and say adieu."----"With pleasure."
Gaston retraced his steps, and was embraced cordially by each of thechevaliers, who did not turn away till they saw that he had arrivedsafely at the end of his perilous journey.
Une fille du régent. English Page 4