CHAPTER II.
A YOUNG MAN WHO WENT SINGING
It was about five o'clock when we rode into La Fleche, and the feelingof ill foreboding still possessed me. Partly considering this, andpartly as it was improbable I should find the best accommodationsanywhere else short of Le Mans, I decided to put up here for the night.As I rode into the central square of the town, I saw an inn there: ithad a prosperous and honest look, so I said, "This is the place for mymoney," and made for it. The square was empty and silent when I enteredit, but just as I reached the archway of the inn, I heard a voicesinging, whereupon I looked around and saw a young man riding into thesquare from another street than that I had come from. He was followed bya servant on horseback, and was bound for the same inn. It seems strangein the telling, that a gentleman should ride singing into a publicsquare, as if he were a mountebank or street-singer, yet it appearedquite natural as this young fellow did it. The song was something aboutbrave soldiers and the smiles of ladies--just such a gay song as sohandsome a young cavalier ought to sing. I looked at him a moment, thenrode on into the inn-yard. This little act, done in all thoughtlessness,and with perfect right, was the cause of momentous things in my life. IfI had waited to greet that young gentleman at the archway, I believe myhistory would have gone very differently. As it was, I am convinced thatmy carelessly dropping him from my regard, as if he were a person of nointerest, was the beginning of what grew between us. For, as he rode inwhile I was dismounting, he threw at me a look of resentment for whichthere was nothing to account but the possible wound to his vanity. Hiscountenance, symmetrically and somewhat boldly formed, showed greatself-esteem and a fondness for attention. His singing had suddenlystopped. I could feel his anger, which was probably the greater forhaving no real cause, I having been under no obligation to notice him oroffer him precedence.
He called loudly for an ostler, and, when one came out of the stables,he coolly gave his orders without waiting for me, though I had beenfirst in the yard. He bade his own servant see their horses well fed,and then made for the inn-door, casting a scornful glance at me, andresuming his song in a lower voice. It was now my turn to be angry, andjustly, but I kept silence. I knew not exactly how to take this sort ofdemonstration: whether it was a usual thing among travellers and to bepaid back only in kind, or whether for the sake of my reputation I oughtto treat it as a serious affront. It is, of course, childish to takeoffence at a trifle. In my ignorance of what the world expects of a manupon receipt of hostile and disparaging looks, I could only act as onealways must who cannot make up his mind--do nothing. After seeing myhorse and mule attended to, I bade Nicolas follow with the baggage, andentered the inn.
The landlord was talking with my young singing gentleman, but made toapproach me as I came in. The young gentleman, however, speaking in aperemptory manner, detained him with questions about the roads, the townof La Fleche, and such matters. As I advanced, the young gentleman gotbetween me and the host, and continued his talk. I waited awkwardlyenough for the landlord's attention, and began to feel hot within. Awench now placed on a table some wine that the young man had ordered,and the landlord finally got rid of him by directing his attention toit. As he went to sit down, he bestowed on me the faintest smile ofridicule. I was too busy to think much of it at the moment, in orderinga room for the night and sending Nicolas thither with my bag. I thencalled for supper and sat down as far as possible from the other guest.He and I were the only occupants of the room, but from the kitchenadjoining came the noise of a number of the commonalty at food anddrink.
"Always politeness," thought I, when my wine had come, and so, in spiteof his rudeness and his own neglect of the courtesy, as I raised myglass I said to him, "Your health, Monsieur."
He turned red at the reproach implied in my observance, then veryreluctantly lifted his own glass and said, "And yours," in a surly,grudging manner.
"It has been a pleasant day," I went on, resolved not to be churlish, atall hazards.
"Do you think so?" he replied contemptuously, and then turned to lookout of the window, and hummed the tune he had been singing before.
I thought if such were the companions my journey was to throw me inwith, it would be a sorry time till I got home again. But my younggentleman, for all his temporary sullenness, was really of a talkativenature, as these vain young fellows are apt to be, and when he hadwarmed himself a little with wine even his dislike of me could notrestrain his tongue any longer.
"You are staying here to-night, then?" he suddenly asked.
"Yes, and you?"
"I shall ride on after supper. There will be starlight."
"I have used my horse enough to-day."
"And I mine, for that matter. But there are times when horses can't beconsidered."
"You are travelling on important business, then?"
"On business of haste. I must put ground behind me."
"I drink to the success of your business, then."
"Thank you, I am always successful. There is another toast, that shouldhave first place. The ladies, Monsieur."
"With all my heart."
"That's a toast I never permit myself to defer. Mon dieu, I owe themfavours enough!"
"You are fortunate," said I.
"I don't complain. And you?"
"Even if I were fortunate in that respect, I shouldn't boast of it."
He coloured; but laughed shortly, and said, "It's not boasting to tellthe mere truth."
"I was thinking of myself, not of you, Monsieur." This was true enough.
"I can readily believe you've had no great luck that way," he saidspitefully, pretending to take stock of my looks. I knew his remark wassheer malice, for my appearance was good enough--well-figured andslender, with a pleasant, thoughtful face.
"Let us talk of something else," I answered coldly, though I was farfrom cool in reality.
"Certainly. What do you think of the last conspiracy?"
"That it was very rash and utterly without reason. We have the best kingFrance ever knew."
"Yes, long live Henri IV.! They say there are still some of themalcontents to be gathered in. Have you heard of any fresh arrests?"
"Nothing within two weeks. I don't understand how these affairs canpossibly arise, after that of Biron. Men must be complete fools."
"Oh, there are always malcontents who still count on Spain, and somethink even the League may be revived."
"But why should they not be contented? I can't imagine any grievances."
"Faith, my child, where have you been hiding yourself? Don't you knowthe talk? Do you suppose everybody is pleased with this Dutch alliance?And the way in which the King's old Huguenot comrades are again to beseen around him?"
"And why not? Through everything, the King's heart has always been withthe protestants."
"Oho! So you are one of the psalm-singers, then?" His insulting tone andjeering smile were intolerable.
"I have sung no psalms here, at least," I replied trembling with anger;"or anything else, to annoy the ears of my neighbours."
"So you don't like my singing?" he cried, turning red again.
I had truly rather admired it, but I said, "I have heard better."
"Indeed? But how should you know. For your education in taste, I maytell you that good judges have thought well of my singing."
"Ay, brag of it, as you do of your success with the ladies."
He stared at me in amazement, then cried. "Death of my life, youngfellow!--" But at that instant his servant brought in his supper, and hewent no further. My own meal was before me a minute later, and we bothdevoted ourselves in angry silence to our food. I was still full ofresentment at his obtrusive scorn of myself and my religious party, andI could see that he felt himself mightily outraged at my retorts. Fromthe rapid, heedless way in which he ate, I fancied his mind was busywith all sorts of revenge upon me.
When he had finished, at the same time as I did, and our servants hadgone to eat their supper in the kitchen, he leaned against
the wall, andsaid, "I am going to sing, Monsieur, whether it pleases you or not." Andforthwith he began to do so.
My answer was to put on a look of pain, and walk hastily from the room,as if the torture to my ears were too great for endurance.
I was not half-way across the court-yard before I heard him at my heelsthough not singing.
"My friend," said he, as I turned around, "I don't know where you werebred, but you should know this: it's not good manners to break from agentleman's company so unceremoniously."
It occurred to me that because I had taken his insults from the first,through not knowing how much a sensible man should bear, he thought hemight safely hector me to the full satisfaction of his hurt vanity.
"So you do know something of good manners, after all?" I replied. "Icongratulate you."
His eyes flashed new wrath, but before he knew how to answer, and whilewe were glaring at each other like two cocks, though at some distanceapart, out came Nicolas from the kitchen to ask if I wished my cloakbrought down, which he had taken up with the bag. In his rusticinnocence he stepped between my nagging gentleman and myself. Thegentleman at this ran forward in an access of rage, and threw Nicolasaside, saying, "Out of the way, knave! You're as great a clown as yourmaster."
"Hands off! How dare you?" I cried, clapping my hand to my sword.
"If you come a step nearer, I'll kill you!" he replied, grasping his ownhilt.
I sent a swift glance around. There was no witness but Nicolas. Yet ascuffle would draw people in ten seconds. Even at that moment, with myheart beating madly, I thought of the edict against duelling: so I said,as calmly as I could:
"If you dare draw that sword, I see trees beyond that gateway--a gardenor something. It will be quieter there." I pointed to a narrow exit atthe rear of the yard.
"I will show you whom you're dealing with, my lad!" he said,breathlessly, and made at once for the gate. I followed. I could see nowthat, though a bully, he was not a coward, and the discovery fell uponme with a sense of how grave a matter I had been drawn into.
At the gate I looked around, and saw Nicolas following, his eyes widewith alarm. "Stay where you are, and not a word to anybody," I ordered,and closed the gate after me. My adversary led the way across aneglected garden, and out through a postern in a large wall, to wherethere was a thicker growth of trees. We passed among these to a littleopen space near the river, from which it was partly veiled by a tangledmass of bushes. The unworn state of the green sward showed that this wasa spot little visited by the townspeople.
"We have stumbled on the right place," said the young gentleman, with anassumption of coolness. "It's a pity the thing can't be done properly,with seconds and all that." And he proceeded to take off his doublet.
I was sobered by the time spent in walking to the place, so I said,"It's not too late. Monsieur, if you are willing to apologize."
"I apologize! Death of my life! You pile insult on insult."
"I assure you, it is you who have been the insulter."
He laughed in a way that revived my heat, and asked, "Swords alone, orswords and daggers?"
"As you please." By this time I had cast off my own doublet.
"Rapiers and daggers, then," he said, and flung away his scabbard andsheath. I saw the flash of my own weapons a moment later, and ere I hadtime for a second thought on the seriousness of this event--my firstfight in earnest--he was keeping me busy to parry his point and watchhis dagger at the same time. I was half-surprised at my own success inturning away his blade, but after I had guarded myself from three orfour thrusts, I took to mind that offence is the best defence, andventured a lunge, which he stopped with his dagger only in the nick oftime to save his breast. His look of being almost caught gave meencouragement, making me realize I had received good enough lessons frommy father and Blaise Tripault to enable me to practise with confidence.So I pushed the attack, but never lost control of myself nor becamereckless. It was an inspiriting revelation to me to find that I couldindeed use my head intelligently, and command my motions so well, at atime of such excitement. We grew hot, perspired, breathed fast and loud,kept our muscles tense, and held each other with glittering eyes as wemoved about on firm but springy feet. We must have fought very swiftly,for the ring of the steel sounded afterward in my ears as if it had beenalmost continuous. How long we kept it up, I do not exactly know. Wecame to panting more deeply, and I felt a little tired, and once ortwice a mist was before my eyes. At last he gave me a great start byrunning his point through my shirt sleeve above the elbow. Feelingmyself so nearly stung, I instinctively made a long swift thrust: upwent his dagger, but too late: my blade passed clear of it, sank intohis left breast. He gave a sharp little cry, and fell, and the hole Ihad made in his shirt was quickly circled with crimson.
"Victory!" thought I, with an exultant sense of prowess. I had fleshedmy sword and brought low my man! But, as I looked down at him and he layperfectly still, another feeling arose. I knelt and felt for his heart:my new fear was realized. With bitter regret I gazed at him. All theanger and scorn had gone out of his face: it was now merely the handsomeboyish face of a youth like myself, expressing only a manly pride andthe pain and surprise of his last moment. It was horrible to think thatI had stopped this life for ever, reduced this energy and beauty toeternal silence and nothingness. A weakness overwhelmed me, a profoundpity and self-reproach.
I heard a low ejaculation behind me, which made me start. But I saw itwas only Nicolas, who, in spite of my orders, had stolen after me, interror of what might happen.
"Oh, heaven!" he groaned, as he stared with pale face and scared eyes atthe prostrate form. "You have killed him, Monsieur Henri."
"Yes. It is a great pity. After all, he merely thought a little too wellof himself and was a little inconsiderate of other people's feelings.But who is not so, more or less? Poor young man!"
"Ah, but think of us, Monsieur Henri--think of yourself, I mean! We hadbetter be going, or you will have to answer for this."
"That is so. We must settle with the landlord and get away from thistown before this gentleman is missed."
"And alas! you arranged to stay all night. The landlord will be sure tosmell something. Come, I beg of you: there's not a moment to lose. Thinkwhat there's to do--the bag to fetch down, the horse and mule to saddle.We shall be lucky if the officers aren't after us before we're out ofthe town."
"You are right.--Poor young man! At least I will cover his face with hisdoublet before I go."
"I'll do that, Monsieur. You put on your own doublet, and save time."
I did so. As Nicolas ran past me with the slain man's doublet, somethingfell out of the pocket of it. This proved to be a folded piece of paper,like a letter, but with no name outside. I picked it up. Fancying itmight give a clue to my victim's identity, and as the seal was broken, Iopened it. There was some writing, in the hand of a woman,--two linesonly:
"_For heaven's sake and pity's, come to me at once. My life and honourdepend on you alone._"
As the missive was without address, so was it without signature. It musthave been delivered by some confidential messenger who knew therecipient, and yet by whom a verbal message was either not thoughtexpedient, or required to be confirmed by the written appeal. Therecipient must be familiar with the sender's handwriting. The notelooked fresh and clean, and therefore must have been very latelyreceived.
"Come, Monsieur Henri," called Nicolas, breaking in upon my whirlingthoughts. "Why do you wait?--What is the matter? What do you see on thatpaper?"
"And this," I answered, though of course Nicolas could not understandme, "is the business he was on! This is why he had need to put groundbehind him. He was going on to-night. He must have stopped only torefresh his horses."
"Yes, certainly, but what of that? What has his business to do with us?"
"I have prevented his carrying it out. My God!--a woman's life andhonour--a woman who relies on him--and now she will wait for him invain! At this very moment she may be counting th
e hours till he shouldarrive!--What have I done?"
"'AND NOW SHE WILL WAIT FOR HIM IN VAIN!'"]
"You, Monsieur? It's not your fault if he chose to get into a quarrelwith you. He must have valued his business highly if he dared risk it ina fight."
"Of course he thought from my manner that he could have his own way withme. There would be no loss of time--his horses needed rest, for greaterspeed in the long run. He knew what he was about--there's no doubt ofhis haste. 'Come to me at once. My life and honour depend on you alone.'And while she waits and trusts, I step in and cut off her onlyhope!--not this poor young fellow's life alone, but hers also, Nicolas!It mustn't be so--not if I can any way help it. I see now what I amcalled upon to do."
"What is that, Monsieur Henri?" asked Nicolas despairingly.
"To carry out this gentleman's task which I have interrupted--to go inhis stead to the assistance of this lady, whoever and wherever she maybe!"
The Bright Face of Danger Page 2