CHAPTER IX. A NIGHT ALARM
I was returning that same afternoon from a long walk that I hadtaken--for my mood was of that unenviable sort that impels a man to bemoving--when I found a travelling-chaise drawn up in the quadrangle asif ready for a journey. As I mounted the steps of the chateau I cameface to face with mademoiselle, descending. I drew aside that she mightpass; and this she did with her chin in the air, and her petticoat drawnto her that it might not touch me.
I would have spoken to her, but her eyes looked straight before her witha glance that was too forbidding; besides which there was the gaze of ahalf-dozen grooms upon us. So, bowing before her--the plume of my doffedhat sweeping the ground--I let her go. Yet I remained standing whereshe had passed me, and watched her enter the coach. I looked after thevehicle as it wheeled round and rattled out over the drawbridge, toraise a cloud of dust on the white, dry road beyond.
In that hour I experienced a sense of desolation and a pain to which Ifind it difficult to give expression. It seemed to me as if she had goneout of my life for all time--as if no reparation that I could ever makewould suffice to win her back after what had passed between us thatmorning. Already wounded in her pride by what Mademoiselle de Marsac hadtold her of our relations, my behaviour in the rose garden had completedthe work of turning into hatred the tender feelings that but yesterdayshe had all but confessed for me. That she hated me now, I was wellassured. My reflections as I walked had borne it in upon me how rash,how mad had been my desperate action, and with bitterness I realizedthat I had destroyed the last chance of ever mending matters.
Not even the payment of my wager and my return in my true charactercould avail me now. The payment of my wager, forsooth! Even that lostwhat virtue it might have contained. Where was the heroism of such anact? Had I not failed, indeed? And was not, therefore, the payment of mywager become inevitable?
Fool! fool! Why had I not profited that gentle mood of hers when we haddrifted down the stream together? Why had I not told her then of thewhole business from its ugly inception down to the pass to which thingswere come, adding that to repair the evil I was going back to Paris topay my wager, and that when that was done, I would return to ask her tobecome my wife? That was the course a man of sense would have adopted.He would have seen the dangers that beset him in my false position,and would have been quick to have forestalled them in the only mannerpossible.
Heigh-ho! It was done. The game was at an end, and I had bungled my partof it like any fool. One task remained me--that of meeting Marsac atGrenade and doing justice to the memory of poor Lesperon. What mightbetide thereafter mattered little. I should be ruined when I had settledwith Chatellerault, and Marcel de Saint-Pol, de Bardelys, that brilliantstar in the firmament of the Court of France, would suffer an abrupteclipse, would be quenched for all time. But this weighed little withme then. I had lost everything that I might have valued--everything thatmight have brought fresh zest to a jaded, satiated life.
Later that day I was told by the Vicomte that there was a rumour currentto the effect that the Marquis de Bardelys was dead. Idly I inquired howthe rumour had been spread, and he told me that a riderless horse, whichhad been captured a few days ago by some peasants, had been recognizedby Monsieur de Bardelys's servants as belonging to their master, andthat as nothing had been seen or heard of him for a fortnight, it wasbelieved that he must have met with some mischance. Not even that pieceof information served to arouse my interest. Let them believe me deadif they would. To him that is suffering worse than death to be accounteddead is a small matter.
The next day passed without incident. Mademoiselle's absence continuedand I would have questioned the Vicomte concerning it, but a notunnatural hesitancy beset me, and I refrained.
On the morrow I was to leave Lavedan, but there were no preparations tobe made, no packing to be done, for during my sojourn there I had beenindebted to the generous hospitality of the Vicomte for my very apparel.We supped quietly together that night the Vicomte and I--for theVicomtesse was keeping her room.
I withdrew early to my chamber, and long I lay awake, revolving a gloomyfuture in my mind. I had given no thought to what I should do afterhaving offered my explanation to Monsieur de Marsac on the morrow, norcould I now bring myself to consider it with any degree of interest. Iwould communicate with Chatellerault to inform him that I accountedmy wager lost. I would send him my note of hand, making over to himmy Picardy estates, and I would request him to pay off and disband myservants both in Paris and at Bardelys.
As for myself, I did not know, and, as I have hinted, I cared butlittle, in what places my future life might lie. I had still a littleproperty by Beaugency, but scant inclination to withdraw to it. To ParisI would not return; that much I was determined upon; but upon no more.I had thoughts of going to Spain. Yet that course seemed no less futilethan any other of which I could bethink me. I fell asleep at last,vowing that it would be a mercy and a fine solution to the puzzle of howto dispose of the future if I were to awaken no more.
I was, however, destined to be roused again just as the veil of nightwas being lifted and the chill breath of dawn was upon the world. Therewas a loud knocking at the gates of Lavedan, confused noises of voices,of pattering feet, of doors opening and closing within the chateau.
There was a rapping at my chamber door, and when I went to open, I foundthe Vicomte on the threshold, nightcapped, in his shirt, and bearing alighted taper.
"There are troopers at the gate!" he exclaimed as he entered the room."That dog Saint-Eustache has already been at work!"
For all the agitation that must have been besetting him, his manner wasserene as ever. "What are we to do?" he asked.
"You are admitting them--naturally?" said I, inquiry in my voice.
"Why, yes"; and he shrugged his shoulders. "What could it avail us toresist them? Even had I been prepared for it, it would be futile toattempt to suffer a siege."
I wrapped a dressing-gown about me, for the morning air was chill.
"Monsieur le Vicomte," said I gravely, "I heartily deplore that Monsieurde Marsac's affairs should have detained me here. But for him, I hadleft Lavedan two days ago. As it is, I tremble for you, but we mayat least hope that my being taken in your house will draw down no illresults upon you. I shall never forgive myself if through my havingtaken refuge here I should have encompassed your destruction."
"There is no question of that," he replied, with the quick generositycharacteristic of the man. "This is the work of Saint-Eustache. Sooneror later I always feared that it would happen, for sooner or later heand I must have come to enmity over my daughter. That knave had me inhis power. He knew--being himself outwardly one of us--to what extentI was involved in the late rebellion, and I knew enough of him to beassured that if some day he should wish to do me ill, he would neverscruple to turn traitor. I am afraid, Monsieur de Lesperon, that it isnot for you alone--perhaps not for you at all--that the soldiers havecome, but for me."
Then, before I could answer him, the door was flung wide, and into theroom, in nightcap and hastily donned robe--looking a very meagre in thatdisfiguring deshabille--swept the Vicomtesse.
"See," she cried to her husband, her strident voice raised inreproach--"see to what a pass you have brought us!"
"Anne, Anne!" he exclaimed, approaching her and seeking to soothe her;"be calm, my poor child, and be brave."
But, evading him, she towered, lean and malevolent as a fury.
"Calm?" she echoed contemptuously. "Brave?" Then a short laugh brokefrom her--a despairing, mocking, mirthless expression of anger. "By God,do you add effrontery to your other failings? Dare you bid me be calmand brave in such an hour? Have I been warning you fruitlessly thesetwelve months past, that, after disregarding me and deriding mywarnings, you should bid me be calm now that my fears are realized?"
There was a sound of creaking gates below. The Vicomte heard it.
"Madame," he said, putting aside his erstwhile tender manner, andspeaking with a lofty dignity,
"the troopers have been admitted. Let meentreat you to retire. It is not befitting our station--"
"What is our station?" she interrupted harshly. "Rebels--proscribed,houseless beggars. That is our station, thanks to you and your insanemeddling with treason. What is to become of us, fool? What is to becomeof Roxalanne and me when they shall have hanged you and have driven usfrom Lavedan? By God's death, a fine season this to talk of the dignityof our station! Did I not warn you, malheureux, to leave party factionalone? You laughed at me."
"Madame, your memory does me an injustice," he answered in a strangledvoice. "I never laughed at you in all my life."
"You did as much, at least. Did you not bid me busy myself with women'saffairs? Did you not bid me leave you to follow your own judgment? Youhave followed it--to a pretty purpose, as God lives! These gentlemen ofthe King's will cause you to follow it a little farther," she pursued,with heartless, loathsome sarcasm. "You will follow it as far as thescaffold at Toulouse. That, you will tell me, is your own affair. Butwhat provision have you made for your wife and daughter? Did you marryme and get her to leave us to perish of starvation? Or are we to turnkitchen wenches or sempstresses for our livelihood?"
With a groan, the Vicomte sank down upon the bed, and covered his facewith his hands.
"God pity me!" he cried, in a voice of agony--an agony such as the fearof death could never have infused into his brave soul; an agony born ofthe heartlessness of this woman who for twenty years had shared hisbed and board, and who now in the hour of his adversity failed him socruelly--so tragically.
"Aye," she mocked in her bitterness, "call upon God to pity you, for Ishall not."
She paced the room now, like a caged lioness, her face livid with thefury that possessed her. She no longer asked questions; she nolonger addressed him; oath followed oath from her thin lips, and thehideousness of this woman's blasphemy made me shudder. At last therewere heavy steps upon the stairs, and, moved by a sudden impulse"Madame," I cried, "let me prevail upon you to restrain yourself."
She swung round to face me, her dose-set eyes ablaze with anger.
"Sangdieu! By what right do you--" she began but this was no time tolet a woman's tongue go babbling on; no time for ceremony; no season formaking a leg and addressing her with a simper. I caught her viciously bythe wrist, and with my face close up to hers "Folle!" I cried, and I'llswear no man had ever used the word to her before. She gasped and chokedin her surprise and rage. Then lowering my voice lest it should reachthe approaching soldiers: "Would you ruin the Vicomte and yourself?" Imuttered. Her eyes asked me a question, and I answered it. "How do youknow that the soldiers have come for your husband? It may be that theyare seeking me--and only me. They may know nothing of the Vicomte'sdefection. Shall you, then, be the one to inform them of it by yourunbridled rantings and your accusations?"
Her jaw fell open in astonishment. This was a side of the question shehad not considered.
"Let me prevail upon you, madame, to withdraw and to be of good courage.It is more than likely that you alarm yourself without cause."
She continued to stare at me in her amazement and the confusion that wascongenital with it, and if there was not time for her to withdraw, atleast the possibility I had suggested acted as a timely warning.
In that moment the door opened again, and on the threshold appeared ayoung man in a plumed hat and corselet, carrying a naked sword in onehand and a lanthorn in the other. Behind him I caught the gleam of steelfrom the troopers at his heels.
"Which of you is Monsieur Rene de Lesperon?" he inquired politely, hisutterance flavoured by a strong Gascon accent.
I stood forward. "I am known by that name, Monsieur le Capitaine," saidI.
He looked at me wistfully, apologetically almost, then "In the King'sname, Monsieur de Lesperon, I call upon you to yield!" said he.
"I have been expecting you. My sword is yonder, monsieur," I repliedsuavely. "If you will allow me to dress, I shall be ready to accompanyyou in a few minutes."
He bowed, and it at once became clear that his business at Lavedanwas--as I had suggested to the Vicomtesse might be possible--with mealone.
"I am grateful for the readiness of your submission," said thisvery polite gentleman. He was a comely lad, with blue eyes and agood-humoured mouth, to which a pair of bristling moustaches soughtvainly to impart an expression of ferocity.
"Before you proceed to dress, monsieur, I have another duty todischarge."
"Discharge your duty, monsieur," I answered. Whereupon he made a sign tohis men, and in a moment they were ransacking my garments and effects.While this was taking place, he turned to the Vicomte and Vicomtesse,and offered them a thousand apologies for having interrupted theirslumbers, and for so rudely depriving them of their guest. He advancedin his excuse the troublous nature of the times, and threw in a bunchof malisons at the circumstances which forced upon soldiers the odiousduties of the tipstaff, hoping that we would think him none the less agentleman for the unsavoury business upon which he was engaged.
From my clothes they took the letters addressed to Lesperon which thatpoor gentleman had entrusted to me on the night of his death; and amongthese there was one from the Duc d'Orleans himself, which would alonehave sufficed to have hanged a regiment. Besides these, they tookMonsieur de Marsac's letter of two days ago, and the locket containingthe picture of Mademoiselle de Marsac.
The papers and the portrait they delivered to the Captain, who took themwith the same air of deprecation tainted with disgust that coloured allhis actions in connection with my arrest.
To this same repugnance for his catchpoll work do I owe it that at themoment of setting out he offered to let me ride without the annoyance ofan escort if I would pass him my parole not to attempt an escape.
We were standing, then, in the hall of the chateau. His men were alreadyin the courtyard, and there were only present Monsieur le Vicomte andAnatole--the latter reflecting the look of sorrow that haunted hismaster's face. The Captain's generosity was certainly leading him beyondthe bounds of his authority, and it touched me.
"Monsieur is very generous," said I.
He shrugged his shoulders impatiently.
"Cap de Dieu!" he cried--he had a way of swearing that reminded me of myfriend Cazalet. "It is no generosity, monsieur. It is a desire to makethis obscene work more congenial to the spirit of a gentleman, which,devil take me, I cannot stifle, not for the King himself. And then,Monsieur de Lesperon, are we not fellow-countrymen? Are we not Gasconsboth? Pardieu, there is no more respected a name in the whole of Gasconythan that of Lesperon, and that you belong to so honourable a family isalone more than sufficient to warrant such slight favours as it may bein my power to show you."
"You have my parole that I will attempt no escape, Monsieur leCapitaine," I answered, bowing may acknowledgment of his compliments.
"I am Mironsac de Castelroux, of Chateau Rouge in Gascony," he informedme, returning my bow. My faith, had he not made a pretty soldier hewould have made an admirable master of deportment.
My leave-taking of Monsieur de Lavedan was brief but cordial; apologeticon my part, intensely sympathetic on his. And so I went out alone withCastelroux upon the road to Toulouse, his men being ordered to follow inhalf an hour's time and to travel at their leisure.
As we cantered along--Castelroux and I--we talked of many things, andI found him an amusing and agreeable companion. Had my mood been otherthan despairing, the news he gave me might have occasioned me someconcern; for it seemed that prisoners arraigned for treason andparticipation in the late rising were being very summarily treated. Manywere never so much as heard in their own defence, the evidence collectedof their defection being submitted to the Tribunal, and judgment beingforthwith passed upon them by judges who had no ears for anything theymight advance in their own favour.
The evidence of my identity was complete: there was my own admission toCastelroux; the evidence of the treason of Lesperon was none the lesscomplete; in fact, it was notorious; and ther
e was the Duke's letterfound amongst my effects. If the judges refused to lend an ear to myassurances that I was not Lesperon at all, but the missing Bardelys, mytroubles were likely to receive a very summary solution. The fear of it,however, weighed not over-heavily upon me. I was supremely indifferent.Life was at an end so far as I was concerned. I had ruined the onechance of real happiness that had ever been held out to me, and if thegentlemen of the courts of Toulouse were pleased to send me unheeded tothe scaffold, what should it signify?
But there was another matter that did interest me, and that was myinterview with Marsac. Touching this, I spoke to my captor.
"There is a gentleman I wish to see at Grenade this morning. You haveamongst the papers taken from me a letter making this assignation,Monsieur le Capitaine, and I should be indeed grateful if you woulddetermine that we shall break our fast there, so that I may havean opportunity of seeing him. The matter is to me of the highestimportance."
"It concerns--?" he asked.
"A lady," I answered.
"Ah, yes! But the letter is of the nature of a challenge, is it not?Naturally, I cannot permit you to endanger your life."
"Lest we disappoint the headsman at Toulouse?" I laughed. "Have no fear.There shall be no duel!"
"Then I am content, monsieur, and you shall see your friend."
I thanked him, and we talked of other things thereafter as we rode inthe early morning along the Toulouse road. Our conversation found itsway, I scarce know how, to the topic of Paris and the Court, and whenI casually mentioned, in passing, that I was well acquainted with theLuxembourg, he inquired whether I had ever chanced to meet a young sparkof the name of Mironsac.
"Mironsac?" I echoed. "Why, yes." And I was on the point of adding thatI knew the youth intimately, and what a kindness I had for him, when,deeming it imprudent, I contented myself with asking, "You know him?"
"Pardieu!" he swore. "The fellow is my cousin. We are both Mironsacs; heis Mironsac of Castelvert, whilst I, as you may remember I told you,am Mironsac of Castelroux. To distinguish us, he is always known asMironsac, and I as Castelroux. Peste! It is not the only distinction,for while he basks in the sunshine of the great world of Paris--theyare wealthy, the Mironsacs of Castelvert--I, a poor devil of a Gasconycadet, am playing the catchpoll in Languedoc!"
I looked at him with fresh interest, for the mention of that dearlad Mironsac brought back to my mind the night in Paris on whichmy ill-starred wager had been laid, and I was reminded of how thathigh-minded youth had sought--when it was too late to reason me out ofthe undertaking by alluding to the dishonour with which in his honesteyes it must be fraught.
We spoke of his cousin--Castelroux and I--and I went so far now asto confess that I had some love for the youth, whom I praised inunmistakable terms. This inclined to increase the friendliness whichmy young Captain had manifested since my arrest, and I was presentlyemboldened by it to beg of him to add to the many favours that I alreadyowed him by returning to me the portrait which his men had subtractedfrom my pocket. It was my wish to return this to Marsac, whilst at thesame time it would afford corroboration of my story.
To this Castelroux made no difficulty.
"Why, yes," said he, and he produced it. "I crave your pardon for nothaving done the thing of my own accord. What can the Keeper of the Sealswant with that picture?"
I thanked him, and pocketed the locket.
"Poor lady!" he sighed, a note of compassion in his voice. "By my soul,Monsieur de Lesperon, fine work this for soldiers, is it not? Diable! Itis enough to turn a gentleman's stomach sour for life, and make him gohide himself from the eyes of honest men. Had I known that soldieringmeant such business, I had thought twice before I adopted it as a careerfor a man of honour. I had remained in Gascony and tilled the earthsooner than have lent myself to this!"
"My good young friend," I laughed, "what you do, you do in the King'sname."
"So does every tipstaff," he answered impatiently, his moustachesbristling as the result of the scornful twist he gave his lips. "Tothink that I should have a hand in bringing tears to the eyes of thatsweet lady! Quelle besogne! Bon Dieu, quelle besogne!"
I laughed at the distress vented in that whimsical Gascon tongue of his,whereupon he eyed me in a wonder that was tempered with admiration. Forto his brave soul a gentleman so stoical as to laugh under such parlouscircumstances was very properly a gentleman to be admired.
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