31. The Monk.
Two men lay prone upon the ground, one bathed in blood and motionless,with his face toward the earth; this one was dead. The other leanedagainst a tree, supported there by the two valets, and was prayingfervently, with clasped hands and eyes raised to Heaven. He had receiveda ball in his thigh, which had broken the bone. The young men firstapproached the dead man.
"He is a priest," said Bragelonne, "he has worn the tonsure. Oh, thescoundrels! to lift their hands against a minister of God."
"Come here, sir," said Urban, an old soldier who had served under thecardinal duke in all his campaigns; "come here, there is nothing to bedone with him, whilst we may perhaps be able to save the other."
The wounded man smiled sadly. "Save me! Oh, no!" said he, "but help meto die, if you can."
"Are you a priest?" asked Raoul.
"No sir."
"I ask, as your unfortunate companion appeared to me to belong to thechurch."
"He is the curate of Bethune, sir, and was carrying the holy vesselsbelonging to his church, and the treasure of the chapter, to a safeplace, the prince having abandoned our town yesterday; and as it wasknown that bands of the enemy were prowling about the country, no onedared to accompany the good man, so I offered to do so.
"And, sir," continued the wounded man, "I suffer much and would like, ifpossible, to be carried to some house."
"Where you can be relieved?" asked De Guiche.
"No, where I can confess."
"But perhaps you are not so dangerously wounded as you think," saidRaoul.
"Sir," replied the wounded man, "believe me, there is no time to lose;the ball has broken the thigh bone and entered the intestines."
"Are you a surgeon?" asked De Guiche.
"No, but I know a little about wounds, and mine, I know, is mortal. Try,therefore, either to carry me to some place where I may see a priest ortake the trouble to send one to me here. It is my soul that must besaved; as for my body, it is lost."
"To die whilst doing a good deed! It is impossible. God will help you."
"Gentlemen, in the name of Heaven!" said the wounded man, collecting allhis forces, as if to get up, "let us not lose time in useless words.Either help me to gain the nearest village or swear to me on yoursalvation that you will send me the first monk, the first cure, thefirst priest you may meet. But," he added in a despairing tone, "perhapsno one will dare to come for it is known that the Spaniards are rangingthrough the country, and I shall die without absolution. My God! my God!Good God! good God!" added the wounded man, in an accent of terror whichmade the young men shudder; "you will not allow that? that would be tooterrible!"
"Calm yourself, sir," replied De Guiche. "I swear to you, you shallreceive the consolation that you ask. Only tell us where we shall find ahouse at which we can demand aid and a village from which we can fetch apriest."
"Thank you, and God reward you! About half a mile from this, on the sameroad, there is an inn, and about a mile further on, after leaving theinn, you will reach the village of Greney. There you must find thecurate, or if he is not at home, go to the convent of the Augustines,which is the last house on the right, and bring me one of the brothers.Monk or priest, it matters not, provided only that he has received fromholy church the power of absolving in articulo mortis."
"Monsieur d'Arminges," said De Guiche, "remain beside this unfortunateman and see that he is removed as gently as possible. The vicomte andmyself will go and find a priest."
"Go, sir," replied the tutor; "but in Heaven's name do not exposeyourself to danger!"
"Do not fear. Besides, we are safe for to-day; you know the axiom, 'Nonbis in idem.'"
"Courage, sir," said Raoul to the wounded man. "We are going to executeyour wishes."
"May Heaven prosper you!" replied the dying man, with an accent ofgratitude impossible to describe.
The two young men galloped off in the direction mentioned and in tenminutes reached the inn. Raoul, without dismounting, called to the hostand announced that a wounded man was about to be brought to his houseand begged him in the meantime to prepare everything needful. He desiredhim also, should he know in the neighborhood any doctor or chirurgeon,to fetch him, taking on himself the payment of the messenger.
The host, who saw two young noblemen, richly clad, promised everythingthey required, and our two cavaliers, after seeing that preparations forthe reception were actually begun, started off again and proceededrapidly toward Greney.
They had gone rather more than a league and had begun to descry thefirst houses of the village, the red-tiled roofs of which stood out fromthe green trees which surrounded them, when, coming toward them mountedon a mule, they perceived a poor monk, whose large hat and gray worsteddress made them take him for an Augustine brother. Chance for onceseemed to favor them in sending what they were so assiduously seeking.He was a man about twenty-two or twenty-three years old, but whoappeared much older from ascetic exercises. His complexion was pale, notof that deadly pallor which is a kind of neutral beauty, but of abilious, yellow hue; his colorless hair was short and scarcely extendedbeyond the circle formed by the hat around his head, and his light blueeyes seemed destitute of any expression.
"Sir," began Raoul, with his usual politeness, "are you anecclesiastic?"
"Why do you ask me that?" replied the stranger, with a coolness whichwas barely civil.
"Because we want to know," said De Guiche, haughtily.
The stranger touched his mule with his heel and continued his way.
In a second De Guiche had sprung before him and barred his passage."Answer, sir," exclaimed he; "you have been asked politely, and everyquestion is worth an answer."
"I suppose I am free to say or not to say who I am to two strangers whotake a fancy to ask me."
It was with difficulty that De Guiche restrained the intense desire hehad of breaking the monk's bones.
"In the first place," he said, making an effort to control himself, "weare not people who may be treated anyhow; my friend there is theViscount of Bragelonne and I am the Count de Guiche. Nor was it fromcaprice we asked the question, for there is a wounded and dying man whodemands the succor of the church. If you be a priest, I conjure you inthe name of humanity to follow me to aid this man; if you be not, it isa different matter, and I warn you in the name of courtesy, of which youappear profoundly ignorant, that I shall chastise you for yourinsolence."
The pale face of the monk became so livid and his smile so strange, thatRaoul, whose eyes were still fixed upon him, felt as if this smile hadstruck to his heart like an insult.
"He is some Spanish or Flemish spy," said he, putting his hand to hispistol. A glance, threatening and transient as lightning, replied toRaoul.
"Well, sir," said De Guiche, "are you going to reply?"
"I am a priest," said the young man.
"Then, father," said Raoul, forcing himself to convey a respect byspeech that did not come from his heart, "if you are a priest you havean opportunity, as my friend has told you, of exercising your vocation.At the next inn you will find a wounded man, now being attended by ourservants, who has asked the assistance of a minister of God."
"I will go," said the monk.
And he touched his mule.
"If you do not go, sir," said De Guiche, "remember that we have twosteeds able to catch your mule and the power of having you seizedwherever you may be; and then I swear your trial will be summary; onecan always find a tree and a cord."
The monk's eye again flashed, but that was all; he merely repeated hisphrase, "I will go,"--and he went.
"Let us follow him," said De Guiche; "it will be the surest plan."
"I was about to propose so doing," answered De Bragelonne.
In the space of five minutes the monk turned around to ascertain whetherhe was followed or not.
"You see," said Raoul, "we have done wisely."
"What a horrible face that monk has," said De Guiche.
"Horrible!" replied Raoul, "especially i
n expression."
"Yes, yes," said De Guiche, "a strange face; but these monks are subjectto such degrading practices; their fasts make them pale, the blows ofthe discipline make them hypocrites, and their eyes become inflamedthrough weeping for the good things of this life we common folk enjoy,but they have lost."
"Well," said Raoul, "the poor man will get his priest, but, by Heaven,the penitent appears to me to have a better conscience than theconfessor. I confess I am accustomed to priests of a very differentappearance."
"Ah!" exclaimed De Guiche, "you must understand that this is one ofthose wandering brothers, who go begging on the high road until some daya benefice falls down from Heaven on them; they are mostlyforeigners--Scotch, Irish or Danish. I have seen them before."
"As ugly?"
"No, but reasonably hideous."
"What a misfortune for the wounded man to die under the hands of such afriar!"
"Pshaw!" said De Guiche. "Absolution comes not from him who administersit, but from God. However, for my part, I would rather die unshriventhan have anything to say to such a confessor. You are of my opinion,are you not, viscount? and I see you playing with the pommel of yoursword, as if you had a great inclination to break the holy father'shead."
"Yes, count, it is a strange thing and one which might astonish you, butI feel an indescribable horror at the sight of yonder man. Have you everseen a snake rise up on your path?"
"Never," answered De Guiche.
"Well, it has happened to me to do so in our Blaisois forests, and Iremember that the first time I encountered one with its eyes fixed uponme, curled up, swinging its head and pointing its tongue, I remainedfixed, pale and as though fascinated, until the moment when the Comte dela Fere----"
"Your father?" asked De Guiche.
"No, my guardian," replied Raoul, blushing.
"Very well----"
"Until the moment when the Comte de la Fere," resumed Raoul, "said,'Come, Bragelonne, draw your sword;' then only I rushed upon the reptileand cut it in two, just at the moment when it was rising on its tail andhissing, ere it sprang upon me. Well, I vow I felt exactly the samesensation at sight of that man when he said, 'Why do you ask me that?'and looked so strangely at me."
"Then you regret that you did not cut your serpent in two morsels?"
"Faith, yes, almost," said Raoul.
They had now arrived within sight of the little inn and could see on theopposite side the procession bearing the wounded man and guided byMonsieur d'Arminges. The youths spurred on.
"There is the wounded man," said De Guiche, passing close to theAugustine brother. "Be good enough to hurry yourself a little, monsieurmonk."
As for Raoul, he avoided the monk by the whole width of the road andpassed him, turning his head away in repulsion.
The young men rode up to the wounded man to announce that they werefollowed by the priest. He raised himself to glance in the directionwhich they pointed out, saw the monk, and fell back upon the litter, hisface illumined by joy.
"And now," said the youths, "we have done all we can for you; and as weare in haste to rejoin the prince's army we must continue our journey.You will excuse us, sir, but we are told that a battle is expected andwe do not wish to arrive the day after it."
"Go, my young sirs," said the sick man, "and may you both be blessed foryour piety. You have done for me, as you promised, all that you coulddo. As for me I can only repeat, may God protect you and all dear toyou!"
"Sir," said De Guiche to his tutor, "we will precede you, and you canrejoin us on the road to Cambrin."
The host was at his door and everything was prepared--bed, bandages, andlint; and a groom had gone to Lens, the nearest village, for a doctor.
"Everything," said he to Raoul, "shall be done as you desire; but youwill not stop to have your wound dressed?"
"Oh, my wound--mine--'tis nothing," replied the viscount; "it will betime to think about it when we next halt; only have the goodness, shouldyou see a cavalier who makes inquiries about a young man on a chestnuthorse followed by a servant, to tell him, in fact, that you have seenme, but that I have continued my journey and intend to dine atMazingarbe and to stop at Cambrin. This cavalier is my attendant."
"Would it not be safer and more certain if I should ask him his name andtell him yours?" demanded the host.
"There is no harm in over-precaution. I am the Viscount de Bragelonneand he is called Grimaud."
At this moment the wounded man arrived from one direction and the monkfrom the other, the latter dismounting from his mule and desiring thatit should be taken to the stables without being unharnessed.
"Sir monk," said De Guiche, "confess well that brave man; and be notconcerned for your expenses or for those of your mule; all is paid."
"Thanks, monsieur," said the monk, with one of those smiles that madeBragelonne shudder.
"Come, count," said Raoul, who seemed instinctively to dislike thevicinity of the Augustine; "come, I feel ill here," and the two youngmen spurred on.
The litter, borne by two servants, now entered the house. The host andhis wife were standing on the steps, whilst the unhappy man seemed tosuffer dreadful pain and yet to be concerned only to know if he wasfollowed by the monk. At sight of this pale, bleeding man, the wifegrasped her husband's arm.
"Well, what's the matter?" asked the latter, "are you going to be illjust now?"
"No, but look," replied the hostess, pointing to the wounded man; "I askyou if you recognize him?"
"That man--wait a bit."
"Ah! I see you know him," exclaimed the wife; "for you have become palein your turn."
"Truly," cried the host, "misfortune is coming on our house; it is theformer executioner of Bethune."
"The former executioner of Bethune!" murmured the young monk, shrinkingback and showing on his countenance the feeling of repugnance which hispenitent inspired.
Monsieur d'Arminges, who was at the door, perceived his hesitation.
"Sir monk," said he, "whether he is now or has been an executioner, thisunfortunate being is none the less a man. Render to him, then, the lastservice he can by any possibility ask of you, and your work will be allthe more meritorious."
The monk made no reply, but silently wended his way to the room wherethe two valets had deposited the dying man on a bed. D'Arminges andOlivain and the two grooms then mounted their horses, and all fourstarted off at a quick trot to rejoin Raoul and his companion. Just asthe tutor and his escort disappeared in their turn, a new travelerstopped on the threshold of the inn.
"What does your worship want?" demanded the host, pale and tremblingfrom the discovery he had just made.
The traveler made a sign as if he wished to drink, and then pointed tohis horse and gesticulated like a man who is brushing something.
"Ah, diable!" said the host to himself; "this man seems dumb. And wherewill your worship drink?"
"There," answered the traveler, pointing to the table.
"I was mistaken," said the host, "he's not quite dumb. And what elsedoes your worship wish for?"
"To know if you have seen a young man pass, fifteen years of age,mounted on a chestnut horse and followed by a groom?"
"The Viscount de Bragelonne?
"Just so."
"Then you are called Monsieur Grimaud?"
The traveler made a sign of assent.
"Well, then," said the host, "your young master was here a quarter of anhour ago; he will dine at Mazingarbe and sleep at Cambrin."
"How far is Mazingarbe?"
"Two miles and a half."
"Thank you."
Grimaud was drinking his wine silently and had just placed his glass onthe table to be filled a second time, when a terrific scream resoundedfrom the room occupied by the monk and the dying man. Grimaud sprang up.
"What is that?" said he; "whence comes that cry?"
"From the wounded man's room," replied the host.
"What wounded man?"
"The former executioner of Bethune,
who has just been brought in here,assassinated by Spaniards, and who is now being confessed by anAugustine friar."
"The old executioner of Bethune," muttered Grimaud; "a man betweenfifty-five and sixty, tall, strong, swarthy, black hair and beard?"
"That is he, except that his beard has turned gray and his hair iswhite; do you know him?" asked the host.
"I have seen him once," replied Grimaud, a cloud darkening hiscountenance at the picture so suddenly summoned to the bar ofrecollection.
At this instant a second cry, less piercing than the first, but followedby prolonged groaning, was heard.
The three listeners looked at one another in alarm.
"We must see what it is," said Grimaud.
"It sounds like the cry of one who is being murdered," murmured thehost.
"Mon Dieu!" said the woman, crossing herself.
If Grimaud was slow in speaking, we know that he was quick to act; hesprang to the door and shook it violently, but it was bolted on theother side.
"Open the door!" cried the host; "open it instantly, sir monk!"
No reply.
"Unfasten it, or I will break it in!" said Grimaud.
The same silence, and then, ere the host could oppose his design,Grimaud seized a pair of pincers he perceived in a corner and forced thebolt. The room was inundated with blood, dripping from the mattressesupon which lay the wounded man, speechless; the monk had disappeared.
"The monk!" cried the host; "where is the monk?"
Grimaud sprang toward an open window which looked into the courtyard.
"He has escaped by this means," exclaimed he.
"Do you think so?" said the host, bewildered; "boy, see if the mulebelonging to the monk is still in the stable."
"There is no mule," cried he to whom this question was addressed.
The host clasped his hands and looked around him suspiciously, whilstGrimaud knit his brows and approached the wounded man, whose worn, hardfeatures awoke in his mind such awful recollections of the past.
"There can be no longer any doubt but that it is himself," said he.
"Does he still live?" inquired the innkeeper.
Making no reply, Grimaud opened the poor man's jacket to feel if theheart beat, whilst the host approached in his turn; but in a moment theyboth fell back, the host uttering a cry of horror and Grimaud becomingpallid. The blade of a dagger was buried up to the hilt in the left sideof the executioner.
"Run! run for help!" cried Grimaud, "and I will remain beside him here."
The host quitted the room in agitation, and as for his wife, she hadfled at the sound of her husband's cries.
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