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diff --git a/2640-h/2640-h.htm b/2640-h/2640-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..bf5ce75 --- /dev/null +++ b/2640-h/2640-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12660 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + St. Martin's Summer, by Rafael Sabatini + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of St. Martin's Summer, by Rafael Sabatini + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: St. Martin's Summer + +Author: Rafael Sabatini + +Release Date: January 2, 2009 [EBook #2640] +Last Updated: October 13, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ST. MARTIN'S SUMMER *** + + + + +Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + ST. MARTIN’S SUMMER + </h1> + <p> + <br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Rafael Sabatini + </h2> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h3> + Originally published in 1921 + </h3> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> THE SENESCHAL + OF DAUPHINY <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> MONSIEUR + DE GARNACHE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> THE + DOWAGER’S COMPLIANCE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. + </a> THE CHATEAU DE CONDILLAC <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> MONSIEUR DE GARNACHE + LOSES HIS TEMPER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> MONSIEUR + DE GARNACHE KEEPS HIS TEMPER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER + VII. </a> THE OPENING OF THE TRAP <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> THE CLOSING OF THE + TRAP <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> THE + SENESCHAL’S ADVICE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> THE + RECRUIT <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> VALERIE’S + GAOLER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII. </a> A + MATTER OF CONSCIENCE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII. + </a> THE COURIER <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER + XIV. </a> FLORIMOND’S LETTER <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV. </a> THE CONFERENCE <br /><br /> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> THE UNEXPECTED + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII. </a> HOW + MONSIEUR DE GARNACHE LEFT CONDILLAC <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0018"> + CHAPTER XVIII. </a> IN THE MOAT <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX. </a> THROUGH THE NIGHT + <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX. </a> FLORIMOND + DE CONDILLAC <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI. </a> THE + GHOST IN THE CUPBOARD <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII. + </a> THE OFFICES OF MOTHER CHURCH <br /><br /> <a + href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII. </a> THE + JUDGMENT OF GARNACHE <br /><br /> <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV. + </a> SAINT MARTIN’S EVE <br /><br /> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h1> + SAINT MARTIN’S SUMMER + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. THE SENESCHAL OF DAUPHINY + </h2> + <p> + My Lord of Tressan, His Majesty’s Seneschal of Dauphiny, sat at his ease, + his purple doublet all undone, to yield greater freedom to his vast bulk, + a yellow silken undergarment visible through the gap, as is visible the + flesh of some fruit that, swollen with over-ripeness, has burst its skin. + </p> + <p> + His wig—imposed upon him by necessity, not fashion—lay on the table + amid a confusion of dusty papers, and on his little fat nose, round and + red as a cherry at its end, rested the bridge of his horn-rimmed + spectacles. His bald head—so bald and shining that it conveyed an + unpleasant sense of nakedness, suggesting that its uncovering had been an + act of indelicacy on the owner’s part—rested on the back of his + great chair, and hid from sight the gaudy escutcheon wrought upon the + crimson leather. His eyes were closed, his mouth open, and whether from + that mouth or from his nose—or, perhaps, conflicting for issue + between both—there came a snorting, rumbling sound to proclaim that + my Lord the Seneschal was hard at work upon the King’s business. + </p> + <p> + Yonder, at a meaner table, in an angle between two windows, a pale-faced + thread-bare secretary was performing for a yearly pittance the duties for + which my Lord the Seneschal was rewarded by emoluments disproportionately + large. + </p> + <p> + The air of that vast apartment was disturbed by the sounds of Monsieur de + Tressan’s slumbers, the scratch and splutter of the secretary’s pen, and + the occasional hiss and crackle of the logs that burned in the great, + cavern-like fireplace. Suddenly to these another sound was added. With a + rasp and rattle the heavy curtains of blue velvet flecked with silver + fleurs-de-lys were swept from the doorway, and the master of Monsieur de + Tressan’s household, in a well filled suit of black relieved by his heavy + chain of office, stepped pompously forward. + </p> + <p> + The secretary dropped his pen, and shot a frightened glance at his + slumbering master; then raised his hands above his head, and shook them + wildly at the head lackey. + </p> + <p> + “Sh!” he whispered tragically. “Doucement, Monsieur Anselme.” + </p> + <p> + Anselme paused. He appreciated the gravity of the situation. His bearing + lost some of its dignity; his face underwent a change. Then with a + recovery of some part of his erstwhile resolution: + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless, he must be awakened,” he announced, but in an undertone, as + if afraid to do the thing he said must needs be done. + </p> + <p> + The horror in the secretary’s eyes increased, but Anselme’s reflected none + of it. It was a grave thing, he knew by former experience, to arouse His + Majesty’s Seneschal of Dauphiny from his after-dinner nap; but it was an + almost graver thing to fail in obedience to that black-eyed woman below + who was demanding an audience. + </p> + <p> + Anselme realized that he was between the sword and the wall. He was, + however, a man of a deliberate habit that was begotten of inherent + indolence and nurtured among the good things that fell to his share as + master of the Tressan household. Thoughtfully he caressed his tuft of red + beard, puffed out his cheeks, and raised his eyes to the ceiling in appeal + or denunciation to the heaven which he believed was somewhere beyond it. + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless, he must be awakened,” he repeated. + </p> + <p> + And then Fate came to his assistance. Somewhere in the house a door banged + like a cannon-shot. Perspiration broke upon the secretary’s brow. He sank + limply back in his chair, giving himself up for lost. Anselme started and + bit the knuckle of his forefinger in a manner suggesting an inarticulate + imprecation. + </p> + <p> + My Lord the Seneschal moved. The noise of his slumbers culminated in a + sudden, choking grunt, and abruptly ceased. His eyelids rolled slowly + back, like an owl’s, revealing pale blue eyes, which fixed themselves + first upon the ceiling, then upon Anselme. Instantly he sat up, puffing + and scowling, his hands shuffling his papers. + </p> + <p> + “A thousand devils! Anselme, why am I interrupted?” he grumbled + querulously, still half-asleep. “What the plague do you want? Have you no + thought for the King’s affairs? Babylas”—this to his secretary—“did + I not tell you that I had much to do; that I must not be disturbed?” + </p> + <p> + It was the great vanity of the life of this man, who did nothing, to + appear the busiest fellow in all France, and no audience—not even + that of his own lackeys—was too mean for him to take the stage to in + that predilect role. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur le Comte,” said Anselme, in tones of abject self-effacement, “I + had never dared intrude had the matter been of less urgency. But Madame + the Dowager of Condillac is below. She begs to see Your Excellency + instantly.” + </p> + <p> + At once there was a change. Tressan became wide-awake upon the instant. + His first act was to pass one hand over the wax-like surface of his bald + head, whilst his other snatched at his wig. Then he heaved himself + ponderously out of his great chair. He donned his wig, awry in his haste, + and lurched forward towards Anselme, his fat fingers straining at his open + doublet and drawing it together. + </p> + <p> + “Madame la Douairiere here?” he cried. “Make fast these buttons, rascal! + Quick! Am I to receive a lady thus? Am I—? Babylas,” he snapped, + interrupting himself and turning aside even as Anselme put forth hands to + do his bidding. “A mirror, from my closet! Dispatch!” + </p> + <p> + The secretary was gone in a flash, and in a flash returned, even as + Anselme completed his master’s toilet. But clearly Monsieur de Tressan had + awakened in a peevish humour, for no sooner were the buttons of his + doublet secured than with his own fingers he tore them loose again, + cursing his majordomo the while with vigour. + </p> + <p> + “You dog, Anselme, have you no sense of fitness, no discrimination? Am I + to appear in this garment of the mode of a half-century ago before Madame + la Marquise? Take it off; take it off, man! Get me the coat that came last + month from Paris—the yellow one with the hanging sleeves and the + gold buttons, and a sash—the crimson sash I had from Taillemant. Can + you move no quicker, animal? Are you still here?” + </p> + <p> + Anselme, thus enjoined, lent an unwonted alacrity to his movements, + waddling grotesquely like a hastening waterfowl. Between him and the + secretary they dressed my Lord the Seneschal, and decked him out till he + was fit to compare with a bird of paradise for gorgeousness of colouring + if not for harmony of hues and elegance of outline. + </p> + <p> + Babylas held the mirror, and Anselme adjusted the Seneschal’s wig, whilst + Tressan himself twisted his black mustachios—how they kept their + colour was a mystery to his acquaintance—and combed the tuft of + beard that sprouted from one of his several chins. + </p> + <p> + He took a last look at his reflection, rehearsed a smile, and bade Anselme + introduce his visitor. He desired his secretary to go to the devil, but, + thinking better of it, he recalled him as he reached the door. His + cherished vanity craved expression. + </p> + <p> + “Wait!” said he. “There is a letter must be written. The King’s business + may not suffer postponement—not for all the dowagers in France. Sit + down.” + </p> + <p> + Babylas obeyed him. Tressan stood with his back to the open door. His + ears, strained to listen, had caught the swish of a woman’s gown. He + cleared his throat, and began to dictate: + </p> + <p> + “To Her Majesty the Queen-Regent—” He paused, and stood with knitted + brows, deep in thought. Then he ponderously repeated—“To Her Majesty + the Queen Regent—Have you got that?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Monsieur le Comte. ‘To Her Majesty the Queen Regent.’” + </p> + <p> + There was a step, and a throat-clearing cough behind him. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur de Tressan,” said a woman’s voice, a rich, melodious voice, if + haughty and arrogant of intonation. + </p> + <p> + On the instant he turned, advanced a step, and bowed. + </p> + <p> + “Your humblest servant, madame,” said he, his hand upon his heart. “This + is an honour which—” + </p> + <p> + “Which necessity thrusts upon you,” she broke in imperiously. “Dismiss + that fellow.” + </p> + <p> + The secretary, pale and shy, had risen. His eyes dilated at the woman’s + speech. He looked for a catastrophe as the natural result of her taking + such a tone with this man who was the terror of his household and of all + Grenoble. Instead, the Lord Seneschal’s meekness left him breathless with + surprise. + </p> + <p> + “He is my secretary, madame. We were at work as you came. I was on the + point of inditing a letter to Her Majesty. The office of Seneschal in a + province such as Dauphiny is helas!—no sinecure.” He sighed like one + whose brain is weary. “It leaves a man little time even to eat or sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “You will be needing a holiday, then,” said she, with cool insolence. + “Take one for once, and let the King’s business give place for half an + hour to mine.” + </p> + <p> + The secretary’s horror grew by leaps and bounds. + </p> + <p> + Surely the storm would burst at last about this audacious woman’s head. + But the Lord Seneschal—usually so fiery and tempestuous—did no + more than make her another of his absurd bows. + </p> + <p> + “You anticipate, madame, the very words I was about to utter. Babylas, + vanish!” And he waved the scribbler doorwards with a contemptuous hand. + “Take your papers with you—into my closet there. We will resume that + letter to Her Majesty when madame shall have left me.” + </p> + <p> + The secretary gathered up his papers, his quills, and his inkhorn, and + went his way, accounting the end of the world at hand. + </p> + <p> + When the door had closed upon him, the Seneschal, with another bow and a + simper, placed a chair at his visitor’s disposal. She looked at the chair, + then looked at the man much as she had looked at the chair, and turning + her back contemptuously on both, she sauntered towards the fireplace. She + stood before the blaze, with her whip tucked under her arm, drawing off + her stout riding-gloves. She was a tall, splendidly proportioned woman, of + a superb beauty of countenance, for all that she was well past the spring + of life. + </p> + <p> + In the waning light of that October afternoon none would have guessed her + age to be so much as thirty, though in the sunlight you might have set it + at a little more. But in no light at all would you have guessed the truth, + that her next would be her forty-second birthday. Her face was pale, of an + ivory pallor that gleamed in sharp contrast with the ebony of her lustrous + hair. Under the long lashes of low lids a pair of eyes black and insolent + set off the haughty lines of her scarlet lips. Her nose was thin and + straight, her neck an ivory pillar splendidly upright upon her handsome + shoulders. + </p> + <p> + She was dressed for riding, in a gown of sapphire velvet, handsomely laced + in gold across the stomacher, and surmounted at the neck, where it was cut + low and square, by the starched band of fine linen which in France was + already replacing the more elaborate ruff. On her head, over a linen coif, + she wore a tall-crowned grey beaver, swathed with a scarf of blue and + gold. + </p> + <p> + Standing by the hearth, one foot on the stone kerb, one elbow leaning + lightly on the overmantel, she proceeded leisurely to remove her gloves. + </p> + <p> + The Seneschal observed her with eyes that held an odd mixture of + furtiveness and admiration, his fingers—plump, indolent-looking + stumps—plucking at his beard. + </p> + <p> + “Did you but know, Marquise, with what joy, with what a—” + </p> + <p> + “I will imagine it, whatever it may be,” she broke in, with that brusque + arrogance that marked her bearing. “The time for flowers of rhetoric is + not now. There is trouble coming, man; trouble, dire trouble.” + </p> + <p> + Up went the Seneschal’s brows; his eyes grew wider. + </p> + <p> + “Trouble?” quoth he. And, having opened his mouth to give exit to that + single word, open he left it. + </p> + <p> + She laughed lazily, her lip curling, her face twisting oddly, and + mechanically she began to draw on again the glove she had drawn off. + </p> + <p> + “By your face I see how well you understand me,” she sneered. “The trouble + concerns Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye.” + </p> + <p> + “From Paris—does it come from Court?” His voice was sunk. + </p> + <p> + She nodded. “You are a miracle of intuition today, Tressan.” + </p> + <p> + He thrust his tiny tuft of beard between his teeth—a trick he had + when perplexed or thoughtful. “Ah!” he exclaimed at last, and it sounded + like an indrawn breath of apprehension. “Tell me more.” + </p> + <p> + “What more is there to tell? You have the epitome of the story.” + </p> + <p> + “But what is the nature of the trouble? What form does it take, and by + whom are you advised of it?” + </p> + <p> + “A friend in Paris sent me word, and his messenger did his work well, else + had Monsieur de Garnache been here before him, and I had not so much as + had the mercy of this forewarning.” + </p> + <p> + “Garnache?” quoth the Count. “Who is Garnache?” + </p> + <p> + “The emissary of the Queen-Regent. He has been dispatched hither by her to + see that Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye has justice and enlargement.” + </p> + <p> + Tressan fell suddenly to groaning and wringing his hands a pathetic figure + had it been less absurd. + </p> + <p> + “I warned you, madame! I warned you how it would end,” he cried. “I told + you—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I remember the things you told me,” she cut in, scorn in her voice. + “You may spare yourself their repetition. What is done is done, and I’ll + not—I would not—have it undone. Queen-Regent or no + Queen-Regent, I am mistress at Condillac; my word is the only law we know, + and I intend that so it shall continue.” + </p> + <p> + Tressan looked at her in surprise. This unreasoning, feminine obstinacy so + wrought upon him that he permitted himself a smile and a lapse into irony + and banter. + </p> + <p> + “Parfaitement,” said he, spreading his hands, and bowing. “Why speak of + trouble, then?” + </p> + <p> + She beat her whip impatiently against her gown, her eyes staring into the + fire. “Because, my attitude being such as it is, trouble will there be.” + </p> + <p> + The Seneschal shrugged his shoulders, and moved a step towards her. He was + cast down to think that he might have spared himself the trouble of + donning his beautiful yellow doublet from Paris. She had eyes for no + finery that afternoon. He was cast down, too, to think how things might go + with him when this trouble came. It entered his thoughts that he had lain + long on a bed of roses in this pleasant corner of Dauphiny, and he was + smitten now with fear lest of the roses he should find nothing remaining + but the thorns. + </p> + <p> + “How came the Queen-Regent to hear of—of mademoiselle’s—ah—situation?” + he inquired. + </p> + <p> + The Marquise swung round upon him in a passion. + </p> + <p> + “The girl found a dog of a traitor to bear a letter for her. That is + enough. If ever chance or fate should bring him my way, by God! he shall + hang without shrift.” + </p> + <p> + Then she put her anger from her; put from her, too, the insolence and + scorn with which so lavishly she had addressed him hitherto. Instead she + assumed a suppliant air, her beautiful eyes meltingly set upon his face. + </p> + <p> + “Tressan,” said she in her altered voice, “I am beset by enemies. But you + will not forsake me? You will stand by me to the end—will you not, + my friend? I can count upon you, at least?” + </p> + <p> + “In all things, madame,” he answered, under the spell of her gaze. “What + force does this man Garnache bring with him? Have you ascertained?” + </p> + <p> + “He brings none,” she answered, triumph in her glance. + </p> + <p> + “None?” he echoed, horror in his. “None? Then—then—” + </p> + <p> + He tossed his arms to heaven, and stood a limp and shaken thing. She + leaned forward, and regarded him stricken in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Diable! What ails you?” she snapped. “Could I have given you better + news?” + </p> + <p> + “If you could have given me worse, I cannot think what it might have + been,” he groaned. Then, as if smitten by a sudden notion that flashed a + gleam of hope into this terrifying darkness that was settling down upon + him, he suddenly looked up. “You mean to resist him?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + She stared at him a second, then laughed, a thought unpleasantly. + </p> + <p> + “Pish! But you are mad,” she scorned him. “Do you need ask if I intend to + resist—I, with the strongest castle in Dauphiny? By God! sir, if you + need to hear me say it, hear me then say that I shall resist him and as + many as the Queen may send after him, for as long as one stone of + Condillac shall stand upon another.” + </p> + <p> + The Seneschal blew out his lips, and fell once more to the chewing of his + beard. + </p> + <p> + “What did you mean when you said I could have given you no worse news than + that of his coming alone?” she questioned suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said he, “if this man comes without force, and you resist the + orders of which he is the bearer, what think you will betide?” + </p> + <p> + “He will appeal to you for the men he needs that he may batter down my + walls,” she answered calmly. + </p> + <p> + He looked at her incredulously. “You realize it?” he ejaculated. “You + realize it?” + </p> + <p> + “What is there in it that should puzzle a babe?” + </p> + <p> + Her callousness was like a gust of wind upon the living embers of his + fears. It blew them into a blaze of wrath, sudden and terrific as that of + such a man at bay could be. He advanced upon her with the rolling gait of + the obese, his cheeks purple, his arms waving wildly, his dyed mustachios + bristling. + </p> + <p> + “And what of me, madame?” he spluttered. “What of me? Am I to be ruined, + gaoled, and hanged, maybe, for refusing him men?—for that is what is + in your mind. Am I to make myself an outlaw? Am I, who have been Lord + Seneschal of Dauphiny these fifteen years, to end my days in degradation + in the cause of a woman’s matrimonial projects for a simpering + school-girl? Seigneur du Ciel!” he roared, “I think you are gone mad—mad, + mad! over this affair. You would not think it too much to set the whole + province in flames so that you could have your way with this wretched + child. But, Ventregris! to ruin me—to—to—” + </p> + <p> + He fell silent for very want of words; just gaped and gasped, and then, + with hands folded upon his paunch, he set himself to pace the chamber. + </p> + <p> + Madame de Condillac stood watching him, her face composed, her glance + cold. She was like some stalwart oak, weathering with unshaken front a + hurricane. When he had done, she moved away from the fireplace, and, + beating her side gently with her whip, she stepped to the door. + </p> + <p> + “Au revoir, Monsieur de Tressan,” said she, mighty cool, her back towards + him. + </p> + <p> + At that he halted in his feverish stride, stood still and threw up his + head. His anger went out, as a candle is extinguished by a puff of wind. + And in its place a new fear crept into his heart. + </p> + <p> + “Madame, madame!” he cried. “Wait! Hear me.” + </p> + <p> + She paused, half-turned, and looked at him over her shoulder, scorn in her + glance, a sneer on her scarlet mouth, insolence in every line of her. + </p> + <p> + “I think, monsieur, that I have heard a little more than enough,” said + she. “I am assured, at least, that in you I have but a fair-weather + friend, a poor lipserver.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, not that, madame,” he cried, and his voice was stricken. “Say not + that. I would serve you as would none other in all this world—you + know it, Marquise; you know it.” + </p> + <p> + She faced about, and confronted him, her smile a trifle broader, as if + amusement were now blending with her scorn. + </p> + <p> + “It is easy to protest. Easy to say, ‘I will die for you,’ so long as the + need for such a sacrifice be remote. But let me do no more than ask a + favour, and it is, ‘What of my good name, madame? What of my + seneschalship? Am I to be gaoled or hanged to pleasure you?’ Faugh!” she + ended, with a toss of her splendid head. “The world is peopled with your + kind, and I—alas! for a woman’s intuitions—had held you + different from the rest.” + </p> + <p> + Her words were to his soul as a sword of fire might have been to his + flesh. They scorched and shrivelled it. He saw himself as she would have + him see himself—a mean, contemptible craven; a coward who made big + talk in times of peace, but faced about and vanished into hiding at the + first sign of danger. He felt himself the meanest, vilest thing a-crawl + upon this sinful earth, and she—dear God!—had thought him + different from the ruck. She had held him in high esteem, and behold, how + short had he not fallen of all her expectations! Shame and vanity combined + to work a sudden, sharp revulsion in his feelings. + </p> + <p> + “Marquise,” he cried, “you say no more than what is just. But punish me no + further. I meant not what I said. I was beside myself. Let me atone—let + my future actions make amends for that odious departure from my true + self.” + </p> + <p> + There was no scorn now in her smile; only an ineffable tenderness, + beholding which he felt it in his heart to hang if need be that he might + continue high in her regard. He sprang forward, and took the hand she + extended to him. + </p> + <p> + “I knew, Tressan,” said she, “that you were not yourself, and that when + you bethought you of what you had said, my valiant, faithful friend would + not desert me.” + </p> + <p> + He stooped over her hand, and slobbered kisses upon her unresponsive + glove. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said he, “you may count upon me. This fellow out of Paris shall + have no men from me, depend upon it.” + </p> + <p> + She caught him by the shoulders, and held him so, before her. Her face was + radiant, alluring; and her eyes dwelt on his with a kindness he had never + seen there save in some wild daydream of his. + </p> + <p> + “I will not refuse a service you offer me so gallantly,” said she. “It + were an ill thing to wound you by so refusing it.” + </p> + <p> + “Marquise,” he cried, “it is as nothing to what I would do did the + occasion serve. But when this thing ‘tis done; when you have had your way + with Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye, and the nuptials shall have been + celebrated, then—dare I hope—?” + </p> + <p> + He said no more in words, but his little blue eyes had an eloquence that + left nothing to mere speech. + </p> + <p> + Their glances met, she holding him always at arm’s length by that grip + upon his shoulders, a grip that was firm and nervous. + </p> + <p> + In the Seneschal of Dauphiny, as she now gazed upon him, she beheld a very + toad of a man, and the soul of her shuddered at the sight of him combining + with the thing that he suggested. But her glance was steady and her lips + maintained their smile, just as if that ugliness of his had been invested + with some abstract beauty existing only to her gaze; a little colour crept + into her cheeks, and red being the colour of love’s livery, Tressan + misread its meaning. + </p> + <p> + She nodded to him across the little distance of her outstretched arms, + then smothered a laugh that drove him crazed with hope, and breaking from + him she sped swiftly, shyly it almost seemed to him, to the door. + </p> + <p> + There she paused a moment looking back at him with a coyness that might + have become a girl of half her years, yet which her splendid beauty saved + from being unbecoming even in her. + </p> + <p> + One adorable smile she gave him, and before he could advance to hold the + door for her, she had opened it and passed out. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. MONSIEUR DE GARNACHE + </h2> + <p> + To promise rashly, particularly where a woman is the suppliant, and + afterwards, if not positively to repent the promise, at least to regret + that one did not hedge it with a few conditions, is a proceeding not + uncommon to youth. In a man of advanced age, such as Monsieur de Tressan, + it never should have place; and, indeed, it seldom has, unless that man + has come again under the sway of the influences by which youth, for good + or ill, is governed. + </p> + <p> + Whilst the flush of his adoration was upon him, hot from the contact of + her presence, he knew no repentance, found room in his mind for no + regrets. He crossed to the window, and pressed his huge round face to the + pane, in a futile effort to watch her mount and ride out of the courtyard + with her little troop of attendants. Finding that he might not—the + window being placed too high—gratify his wishes in that connection, + he dropped into his chair, and sat in the fast-deepening gloom, reviewing, + fondly here, hurriedly there, the interview that had but ended. + </p> + <p> + Thus night fell, and darkness settled down about him, relieved only by the + red glow of the logs smouldering on the hearth. In the gloom inspiration + visited him. He called for lights and Babylas. Both came, and he + dispatched the lackey that lighted the tapers to summon Monsieur d’Aubran, + the commander of the garrison of Grenoble. + </p> + <p> + In the interval before the soldier’s coming he conferred with Babylas + concerning what he had in mind, but he found his secretary singularly dull + and unimaginative. So that, perforce, he must fall back upon himself. He + sat glum and thoughtful, his mind in unproductive travail, until the + captain was announced. + </p> + <p> + Still without any definite plan, he blundered headlong, nevertheless, into + the necessary first step towards the fulfilment of his purpose. + </p> + <p> + “Captain,” said he, looking mighty grave, “I have cause to believe that + all is not as it should be in the hills in the district of Montelimar.” + </p> + <p> + “Is there trouble, monsieur?” inquired the captain, startled. + </p> + <p> + “Maybe there is, maybe there is not,” returned the Seneschal mysteriously. + “You shall have your full orders in the morning. Meanwhile, make ready to + repair to the neighbourhood of Montelimar to-morrow with a couple of + hundred men.” + </p> + <p> + “A couple of hundred, monsieur!” exclaimed d’Aubran. “But that will be to + empty Grenoble of soldiers.” + </p> + <p> + “What of it? We are not likely to require them here. Let your orders for + preparation go round tonight, so that your knaves may be ready to set out + betimes to-morrow. If you will be so good as to wait upon me early you + shall have your instructions.” + </p> + <p> + Mystified, Monsieur d’Aubran departed on his errand, and my Lord Seneschal + went down to supper well pleased with the cunning device by which he was + to leave Grenoble without a garrison. It was an astute way of escape from + the awkward situation into which his attachment to the interests of the + dowager of Condillac was likely to place him. + </p> + <p> + But when the morning came he was less pleased with the idea, chiefly + because he had been unable to invent any details that should lend it the + necessary colour, and d’Aubran—worse luck—was an intelligent + officer who might evince a pardonable but embarrassing curiosity. A leader + of soldiers has a right to know something at least of the enterprise upon + which he leads them. By morning, too, Tressan found that the intervening + space of the night, since he had seen Madame de Condillac, had cooled his + ardour very considerably. + </p> + <p> + He had reached the incipient stages of regret of his rash promise. + </p> + <p> + When Captain d’Aubran was announced to him, he bade them ask him to come + again in an hour’s time. From mere regrets he was passing now, through + dismay, into utter repentance of his promise. He sat in his study, at his + littered writing-table, his head in his hands, a confusion of thoughts, a + wild, frenzied striving after invention in his brain. + </p> + <p> + Thus Anselme found him when he thrust aside the portiere to announce that + a Monsieur de Garnache, from Paris, was below, demanding to see the Lord + Seneschal at once upon an affair of State. + </p> + <p> + Tressan’s flesh trembled and his heart fainted. Then, suddenly, + desperately, he took his courage in both hands. He remembered who he was + and what he was the King’s Lord Seneschal of the Province of Dauphiny. + Throughout that province, from the Rhone to the Alps, his word was law, + his name a terror to evildoers—and to some others besides. Was he to + blench and tremble at the mention of the name of a Court lackey out of + Paris, who brought him a message from the Queen-Regent? Body of God! not + he. + </p> + <p> + He heaved himself to his feet, warmed and heartened by the thought; his + eye sparkled, and there was a deeper flush than usual upon his cheek. + </p> + <p> + “Admit this Monsieur de Garnache,” said he with a fine loftiness, and in + his heart he pondered what he would say and how he should say it; how he + should stand, how move, and how look. His roving eye caught sight of his + secretary. He remembered something—the cherished pose of being a man + plunged fathoms-deep in business. Sharply he uttered his secretary’s name. + </p> + <p> + Babylas raised his pale face; he knew what was coming; it had come so many + times before. But there was no vestige of a smile on his drooping lips, no + gleam of amusement in his patient eye. He thrust aside the papers on which + he was at work, and drew towards him a fresh sheet on which to pen the + letter which, he knew by experience, Tressan was about to indite to the + Queen-mother. For these purposes Her Majesty was Tressan’s only + correspondent. + </p> + <p> + Then the door opened, the portiere was swept aside, and Anselme announced + “Monsieur de Garnache.” + </p> + <p> + Tressan turned as the newcomer stepped briskly into the room, and bowed, + hat in hand, its long crimson feather sweeping the ground, then + straightened himself and permitted the Seneschal to take his measure. + </p> + <p> + Tressan beheld a man of a good height, broad to the waist and spare thence + to the ground, who at first glance appeared to be mainly clad in leather. + A buff jerkin fitted his body; below it there was a glimpse of + wine-coloured trunks, and hose of a slightly deeper hue, which vanished + immediately into a pair of huge thighboots of untanned leather. A leather + swordbelt, gold-embroidered at the edges, carried a long steel-halted + rapier in a leather scabbard chaped with steel. The sleeves of his doublet + which protruded from his leather casing were of the same colour and + material as his trunks. In one hand he carried his broad black hat with + its crimson feather, in the other a little roll of parchment; and when he + moved the creak of leather and jingle of his spurs made pleasant music for + a martial spirit. + </p> + <p> + Above all, this man’s head, well set upon his shoulders, claimed some + attention. His nose was hooked and rather large, his eyes were blue, + bright as steel, and set a trifle wide. Above a thin-lapped, delicate + mouth his reddish mustachios, slightly streaked with grey, stood out, + bristling like a cat’s. His hair was darker—almost brown save at the + temples, where age had faded it to an ashen colour. In general his aspect + was one of rugged strength. + </p> + <p> + The Seneschal, measuring him with an adversary’s eye, misliked his looks. + But he bowed urbanely, washing his hands in the air, and murmuring: + </p> + <p> + “Your servant, Monsieur de—?” + </p> + <p> + “Garnache,” came the other’s crisp, metallic voice, and the name had a + sound as of an oath on his lips. “Martin Marie Rigobert de Garnache. I + come to you on an errand of Her Majesty’s, as this my warrant will apprise + you.” And he proffered the paper he held, which Tressan accepted from his + hand. + </p> + <p> + A change was visible in the wily Seneschal’s fat countenance. Its round + expanse had expressed interrogation until now; but at the Parisian’s + announcement that he was an emissary of the Queen’s, Tressan insinuated + into it just that look of surprise and of increased deference which would + have been natural had he not already been forewarned of Monsieur de + Garnache’s mission and identity. + </p> + <p> + He placed a chair at his visitor’s disposal, himself resuming his seat at + his writing-table, and unfolding the paper Garnache had given him. The + newcomer seated himself, hitched his sword-belt round so that he could + lean both hands upon the hilt, and sat, stiff and immovable, awaiting the + Lord Seneschal’s pleasure. From his desk across the room the secretary, + idly chewing the feathered end of his goose-quill, took silent stock of + the man from Paris, and wondered. + </p> + <p> + Tressan folded the paper carefully, and returned it to its owner. It was + no more than a formal credential, setting forth that Garnache was + travelling into Dauphiny on a State affair, and commanding Monsieur de + Tressan to give him every assistance he might require in the performance + of his errand. + </p> + <p> + “Parfaitement,” purred the Lord Seneschal. “And now, monsieur, if you will + communicate to me the nature of your affair, you shall find me entirely at + your service.” + </p> + <p> + “It goes without saying that you are acquainted with the Chateau de + Condillac?” began Garnache, plunging straight into business. + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly.” The Seneschal leaned back, and was concerned to feel his + pulses throbbing a shade too quickly. But he controlled his features, and + maintained a placid, bland expression. + </p> + <p> + “You are perhaps acquainted with its inhabitants?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Intimate with them?” + </p> + <p> + The Seneschal pursed his lips, arched his brows, and slowly waved his + podgy hands, a combination of grimace and gesture that said much or + nothing. But reflecting that Monsieur de Tressan had a tongue, Garnache + apparently did not opine it worth his while to set a strain upon his own + imagination, for— + </p> + <p> + “Intimate with them?” he repeated, and this time there was a sharper note + in his voice. + </p> + <p> + Tressan leaned forward and brought his finger-tips together. His voice was + as urbane as it lay within its power to be. + </p> + <p> + “I understood that monsieur was proposing to state his business, not to + question mine.” + </p> + <p> + Garnache sat back in his chair, and his eyes narrowed. He scented + opposition, and the greatest stumbling-block in Garnache’s career had been + that he could never learn to brook opposition from any man. That + characteristic, evinced early in life, had all but been the ruin of him. + He was a man of high intellectual gifts, of military skill and great + resource; out of consideration for which had he been chosen by Marie de + Medicis to come upon this errand. But he marred it all by a temper so + ungovernable that in Paris there was current a byword, “Explosive as + Garnache.” + </p> + <p> + Little did Tressan dream to what a cask of gunpowder he was applying the + match of his smug pertness. Nor did Garnache let him dream it just yet. He + controlled himself betimes, bethinking him that, after all, there might be + some reason in what this fat fellow said. + </p> + <p> + “You misapprehend my purpose, sir,” said he, his lean brown hand stroking + his long chin. “I but sought to learn how far already you may be informed + of what is taking place up there, to the end that I may spare myself the + pains of citing facts with which already you are acquainted. Still, + monsieur, I am willing to proceed upon the lines which would appear to be + more agreeable to yourself. + </p> + <p> + “This, then, is the sum of the affair that brings me: The late Marquis de + Condillac left two sons. The elder, Florimond—who is the present + marquis, and who has been and still continues absent, warring in Italy, + since before his father’s death—is the stepson of the present + Dowager, she being the mother of the younger son, Marius de Condillac. + </p> + <p> + “Should you observe me to be anywhere at error, I beg, monsieur, that you + will have the complaisance to correct me.” + </p> + <p> + The Seneschal bowed gravely, and Monsieur de Garnache continued: + </p> + <p> + “Now this younger son—I believe that he is in his twenty-first year + at present—has been something of a scapegrace.” + </p> + <p> + “A scapegrace? Bon Dieu, no. That is a harsh name to give him. A little + indiscreet at times, a little rash, as is the way of youth.” + </p> + <p> + He would have said more, but the man from Paris was of no mind to waste + time on quibbles. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” he snapped, cutting in. “We will say, a little indiscreet. My + errand is not concerned with Monsieur Marius’s morals or with his lack of + them. These indiscretions which you belittle appear to have been enough to + have estranged him from his father, a circumstance which but served the + more to endear him to his mother. I am told that she is a very handsome + woman, and that the boy favours her surprisingly.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” sighed the Seneschal in a rapture. “A beautiful woman—a noble, + splendid woman.’ + </p> + <p> + “Hum!” Garnache observed the ecstatic simper with a grim eye. Then he + proceeded with his story. + </p> + <p> + “The late marquis possessed in his neighbour, the also deceased Monsieur + de La Vauvraye, a very dear and valued friend. Monsieur de La Vauvraye had + an only child, a daughter, to inherit his very considerable estates + probably the wealthiest in all Dauphiny, so I am informed. It was the + dearest wish of his heart to transform what had been a lifelong friendship + in his own generation into a closer relationship in the next—a wish + that found a very ready echo in the heart of Monsieur de Condillac. + Florimond de Condillac was sixteen years of age at the time, and Valerie + de La Vauvraye fourteen. For all their tender years, they were betrothed, + and they grew up to love each other and to look forward to the + consummation of the plans their fathers had laid for them.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, monsieur,” the Seneschal protested, “how can you possibly infer + so much? How can you say that they loved each other? What authority can + you have for pretending to know what was in their inmost hearts?” + </p> + <p> + “The authority of Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye,” was the unanswerable + rejoinder. “I am telling you, more or less, what she herself wrote to the + Queen.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Well, well—proceed, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + “This marriage should render Florimond de Condillac the wealthiest and + most powerful gentleman in Dauphiny—one of the wealthiest in France; + and the idea of it pleased the old marquis, inasmuch as the disparity + there would be between the worldly possessions of his two sons would serve + to mark his disapproval of the younger. But before settling down, + Florimond signified a desire to see the world, as was fit and proper and + becoming in a young man who was later to assume such wide + responsibilities. His father, realizing the wisdom of such a step, made + but slight objection, and at the age of twenty Florimond set out for the + Italian wars. Two years afterwards, a little over six months ago, his + father died, and was followed to the grave some weeks later by Monsieur de + La Vauvraye. The latter, with a want of foresight which has given rise to + the present trouble, misjudging the character of the Dowager of Condillac, + entrusted to her care his daughter Valerie pending Florimond’s return, + when the nuptials would naturally be immediately celebrated. I am probably + telling you no more than you already know. But you owe the infliction to + your own unwillingness to answer my questions.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, monsieur; I assure you that in what you say there is much that is + entirely new to me.” + </p> + <p> + “I rejoice to hear it, Monsieur de Tressan,” said Garnache very seriously, + “for had you been in possession of all these facts, Her Majesty might have + a right to learn how it chanced that you had nowise interfered in what is + toward at Condillac. + </p> + <p> + “But to proceed: Madame de Condillac and her precious Benjamin—this + Marius—finding themselves, in Florimond’s absence, masters of the + situation, have set about turning it to their own best advantage. + Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye, whilst being nominally under their + guardianship, finds herself practically gaoled by them, and odious plans + are set before her to marry Marius. Could the Dowager but accomplish this, + it would seem that she would not only be assuring a future of ease and + dignity for her son, but also be giving vent to all her pent-up hatred of + her stepson. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle, however, withstands them, and in this she is aided by a + fortuitous circumstance which has arisen out of the overbearing arrogance + that appears to be madame’s chief characteristic. Condillac after the + marquis’s death had refused to pay tithes to Mother Church and has flouted + and insulted the Bishop. This prelate, after finding remonstrance vain, + has retorted by placing Condillac under an Interdict, depriving all within + it of the benefit of clergy. Thus, they have been unable to find a priest + to venture thither, so that even had they willed to marry mademoiselle by + force to Marius, they lacked the actual means of doing so. + </p> + <p> + “Florimond continues absent. We have every reason to believe that he has + been left in ignorance of his father’s death. Letters coming from him from + time to time prove that he was alive and well at least until three months + ago. A messenger has been dispatched to find him and urge him to return + home at once. But pending his arrival the Queen has determined to take the + necessary steps to ensure that Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye shall be + released from her captivity, that she shall suffer no further molestation + at the hands of Madame de Condillac and her son—enfin, that she + shall run no further risks. + </p> + <p> + “My errand, monsieur, is to acquaint you with these facts, and to request + you to proceed to Condillac and deliver thence Mademoiselle de La + Vauvraye, whom I am subsequently to escort to Paris and place under Her + Majesty’s protection until such time as the new marquis shall return to + claim her.” + </p> + <p> + Having concluded, Monsieur de Garnache sat back in his chair, and threw + one leg over the other, fixing his eyes upon the Seneschal’s face and + awaiting his reply. + </p> + <p> + On that gross countenance before him he saw fall the shadow of perplexity. + Tressan was monstrous ill-at-ease, and his face lost a good deal of its + habitual plethora of colour. He sought to temporize. + </p> + <p> + “Does it not occur to you, monsieur, that perhaps too much importance may + have been attached to the word of this child—this Mademoiselle de La + Vauvraye?” + </p> + <p> + “Does it occur to you that such has been the case, that she has overstated + it?” counter-questioned Monsieur de Garnache. + </p> + <p> + “No, no. I do not say that. But—but—would it not be better—more—ah—satisfactory + to all concerned, if you yourself were to go to Condillac, and deliver + your message in person, demanding mademoiselle?” + </p> + <p> + The man from Paris looked at him a moment, then stood up suddenly, and + shifted the carriages of his sword back to their normal position. His + brows came together in a frown, from which the Seneschal argued that his + suggestion was not well received. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” said the Parisian very coldly, like a man who contains a + rising anger, “let me tell you that this is the first time in my life that + I have been concerned in anything that had to do with women and I am close + upon forty years of age. The task, I can assure you, was little to my + taste. I embarked upon it because, being a soldier and having received my + orders, I was in the unfortunate position of being unable to help myself. + But I intend, monsieur, to adhere rigidly to the letter of these commands. + Already I have endured more than enough in the interests of this damsel. I + have ridden from Paris, and that means close upon a week in the saddle—no + little thing to a man who has acquired certain habits of life and + developed a taste for certain minor comforts which he is very reluctant to + forgo. I have fed and slept at inns, living on the worst of fares and + sleeping on the hardest, and hardly the cleanest, of beds. Ventregris! + Figure to yourself that last night we lay at Luzan, in the only inn the + place contained—a hovel, Monsieur le Seneschal, a hovel in which I + would not kennel a dog I loved.” + </p> + <p> + His face flushed, and his voice rose as he dwelt upon the things he had + undergone. + </p> + <p> + “My servant and I slept in a dormitory’—a thousand devils! monsieur, + in a dormitory! Do you realize it? We had for company a drunken vintner, a + pedlar, a pilgrim on his way to Rome, and two peasant women; and they sent + us to bed without candles, for modesty’s sake. I ask you to conceive my + feelings in such a case as that. I could tell you more; but that as a + sample of what I have undergone could scarcely be surpassed.” + </p> + <p> + “Truly-truly outrageous,” sympathized the Seneschal; yet he grinned. + </p> + <p> + “I ask you—have I not suffered inconvenience enough already in the + service of Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye that you can blame me if I refuse + to go a single step further than my orders bid me?” + </p> + <p> + The Seneschal stared at him now in increasing dismay. Had his own + interests been less at issue he could have indulged his mirth at the + other’s fiery indignation at the inconveniences he recited. As it was, he + had nothing to say; no thought or feeling other than what concerned + finding a way of escape from the net that seemed to be closing in about + him—how to seem to serve the Queen without turning against the + Dowager of Condillac; how to seem to serve the Dowager without opposing + the wishes of the Queen. + </p> + <p> + “A plague on the girl!” he growled, unconsciously uttering his thoughts + aloud. “The devil take her!” + </p> + <p> + Garnache smiled grimly. “That is a bond of sympathy between us,” said he. + “I have said those very words a hundred times—a thousand times, + indeed—between Paris and Grenoble. Yet I scarcely see that you can + damn her with as much justice as can I. + </p> + <p> + “But there, monsieur; all this is unprofitable. You have my message. I + shall spend the day at Grenoble, and take a well-earned rest. By this time + to-morrow I shall be ready to start upon my return journey. I shall have + then the honour to wait upon you again, to the end that I may receive from + you the charge of Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye. I shall count upon your + having her here, in readiness to set out with me, by noon to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + He bowed, with a flourish of his plumed hat, and would with that have + taken his departure but that the Seneschal stayed him. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, monsieur,” he cried, in piteous affright, “you do not know the + Dowager of Condillac.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, no. What of it?” + </p> + <p> + “What of it? Did you know her, you would understand that she is not the + woman to be driven. I may order her in the Queen’s name to deliver up + Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye. But she will withstand me.” + </p> + <p> + “Withstand you?” echoed Garnache, frowning into the face of this fat man, + who had risen also, brought to his feet by excitement. “Withstand you—you, + the Lord Seneschal of Dauphiny? You are amusing yourself at my expense.” + </p> + <p> + “But I tell you that she will,” the other insisted in a passion. “You may + look for the girl in vain tomorrow unless you go to Condillac yourself and + take her.” + </p> + <p> + Garnache drew himself up and delivered his answer in a tone that was + final. + </p> + <p> + “You are the governor of the province, monsieur, and in this matter you + have in addition the Queen’s particular authority—nay, her commands + are imposed upon you. Those commands, as interpreted by me, you will + execute in the manner I have indicated.” + </p> + <p> + The Seneschal shrugged his shoulders, and chewed a second at his beard. + </p> + <p> + “It is an easy thing for you to tell me what to do. Tell me, rather, how + to do it, how to overcome her opposition.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very sure of opposition—strangely sure, monsieur,” said + Garnache, looking him between the eyes. “In any case, you have soldiers.” + </p> + <p> + “And so has she, and the strongest castle in southern France—to say + nothing of the most cursed obstinacy in the world. What she says, she + does.” + </p> + <p> + “And what the Queen says her loyal servants do,” was Garnache’s rejoinder, + in a withering tone. “I think there is nothing more to be said, monsieur,” + he added. “By this time to-morrow I shall expect to receive from you, + here, the charge of Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye. A demain, donc, Monsieur + le Seneschal.” + </p> + <p> + And with another bow the man from Paris drew himself erect, turned on his + heel, and went jingling and creaking from the room. + </p> + <p> + The Lord Seneschal sank back in his chair, and wondered to himself whether + to die might not prove an easy way out of the horrid situation into which + chance and his ill-starred tenderness for the Dowager of Condillac had + thrust him. + </p> + <p> + At his desk sat his secretary, who had been a witness of the interview, + lost in wonder almost as great as the Seneschal’s own. + </p> + <p> + For an hour Tressan remained where he was, deep in thought and gnawing at + his beard. Then with a sudden burst of passion, expressed in a round oath + or two, he rose, and called for his horse that he might ride to Condillac. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. THE DOWAGER’S COMPLIANCE + </h2> + <p> + Promptly at noon on the morrow Monsieur de Garnache presented himself once + more at the Seneschal’s palace, and with him went Rabecque, his + body-servant, a lean, swarthy, sharp-faced man, a trifle younger than his + master. + </p> + <p> + Anselme, the obese master of the household, received them with profound + respect, and at once conducted Garnache to Monsieur de Tressan’s presence. + </p> + <p> + On the stairs they met Captain d’Aubran, who was descending. The captain + was not in the best of humours. For four-and-twenty hours he had kept two + hundred of his men under arms, ready to march as soon as he should receive + his orders from the Lord Seneschal, yet those instructions were not + forthcoming. He had been to seek them again that morning, only to be again + put off. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur de Garnache had considerable doubt, born of his yesterday’s + interview with the Seneschal, that Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye would be + delivered into his charge as he had stipulated. His relief was, therefore, + considerable, upon being ushered into Tressan’s presence, to find a lady + in cloak and hat, dressed as for a journey, seated in a chair by the great + fireplace. + </p> + <p> + Tressan advanced to meet him, a smile of cordial welcome on his lips, and + they bowed to each other in formal greeting. + </p> + <p> + “You see, monsieur,” said the Seneschal, waving a plump hand in the + direction of the lady, “that you have been obeyed. Here is your charge.” + </p> + <p> + Then to the lady: “This is Monsieur de Garnache,” he announced, “of whom I + have already told you, who is to conduct you to Paris by order of Her + Majesty. + </p> + <p> + “And now, my good friends, however great the pleasure I derive from your + company, I care not how soon you set out, for I have some prodigious + arrears of work upon my hands.” + </p> + <p> + Garnache bowed to the lady, who returned his greeting by an inclination of + the head, and his keen eyes played briskly over her. She was a + plump-faced, insipid child, with fair hair and pale blue eyes, stolid and + bovine in their expressionlessness. + </p> + <p> + “I am quite ready, monsieur,” said she, rising as she spoke, and gathering + her cloak about her; and Garnache remarked that her voice had the southern + drawl, her words the faintest suggestion of a patois. It was amazing how a + lady born and bred could degenerate in the rusticity of Dauphiny. Pigs and + cows, he made no doubt, had been her chief objectives. Yet, even so, he + thought he might have expected that she would have had more to say to him + than just those five words expressing her readiness to depart. He had + looked for some acknowledgment of satisfaction at his presence, some + utterances of gratitude either to himself or to the Queen-Regent for the + promptness with which she had been succoured. He was disappointed, but he + showed nothing of it, as with a simple inclination of the head— + </p> + <p> + “Good!” said he. “Since you are ready and Monsieur le Seneschal is anxious + to be rid of us, let us by all means be moving. You have a long and + tedious journey before you, mademoiselle.” + </p> + <p> + “I—I am prepared for that,” she faltered. + </p> + <p> + He stood aside, and bending from the waist he made a sweeping gesture + towards the door with the hand that held his hat. To the invitation to + precede him she readily responded, and, with a bow to the Seneschal, she + began to walk across the apartment. + </p> + <p> + Garnache’s eyes, narrowing slightly, followed her, like points of steel. + Suddenly he shot a disturbing glance at Tressan’s face, and the corner of + his wild-cat mustachios twitched. He stood erect, and called her very + sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle!” + </p> + <p> + She stopped, and turned to face him, an incredible shyness seeming to + cause her to avoid his gaze. + </p> + <p> + “You have, no doubt, Monsieur le Seneschal’s word for my identity. But I + think it is as well that you should satisfy yourself. Before placing + yourself entirely in my care, as you are about to do, you would be well + advised to assure yourself, that I am indeed Her Majesty’s emissary. Will + you be good enough to glance at this?” + </p> + <p> + He drew forth as he spoke the letter in the queen’s own hand, turned it + upside down, and so presented it to her. The Seneschal looked on stolidly, + a few paces distant. + </p> + <p> + “But certainly, mademoiselle, assure yourself that this gentleman is no + other than I have told you.” + </p> + <p> + Thus enjoined, she took the letter; for a second her eyes met Garnache’s + glittering gaze, and she shivered. Then she bent her glance to the + writing, and studied it a moment, what time the man from Paris watched her + closely. + </p> + <p> + Presently she handed it back to him. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, monsieur,” was all she said. + </p> + <p> + “You are satisfied that it is in order, mademoiselle?” he inquired, and a + note of mockery too subtle for her or the Seneschal ran through his + question. + </p> + <p> + “I am quite satisfied.” + </p> + <p> + Garnache turned to Tressan. His eyes were smiling, but unpleasantly, and + in his voice when he spoke there was something akin to the distant rumble + that heralds an approaching storm. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle,” said he, “has received an eccentric education.” + </p> + <p> + “Eh?” quoth Tressan, perplexed. + </p> + <p> + “I have heard tell, monsieur, of a people somewhere in the East who read + and write from right to left; but never yet have I heard tell of any—particularly + in France—so oddly schooled as to do their reading upside down.” + </p> + <p> + Tressan caught the drift of the other’s meaning. He paled a little, and + sucked his lip, his eyes wandering to the girl, who stood in stolid + inapprehension of what was being said. + </p> + <p> + “Did she do that?” said he, and he scarcely knew what he was saying; all + that he realized was that it urged him to explain this thing. + “Mademoiselle’s education has been neglected—a by no means uncommon + happening in these parts. She is sensitive of it; she seeks to hide the + fact.” + </p> + <p> + Then the storm broke about their heads. And it crashed and thundered + awfully in the next few minutes. + </p> + <p> + “O liar! O damned, audacious liar,” roared Garnache uncompromisingly, + advancing a step upon the Seneschal, and shaking the parchment + threateningly in his very face, as though it were become a weapon of + offence. “Was it to hide the fact that she had not been taught to write + that she sent the Queen a letter pages-long? Who is this woman?” And the + finger he pointed at the girl quivered with the rage that filled him at + this trick they had thought to put upon him. + </p> + <p> + Tressan sought refuge in offended dignity. He drew himself up, threw back + his head, and looked the Parisian fiercely in the eye. + </p> + <p> + “Since you take this tone with me, monsieur—” + </p> + <p> + “I take with you—as with any man—the tone that to me seems + best. You miserable fool! As sure as you’re a rogue this affair shall cost + you your position. You have waxed fat and sleek in your seneschalship; + this easy life in Dauphiny appears to have been well suited to your + health. But as your paunch has grown, so, of a truth, have your brains + dwindled, else had you never thought to cheat me quite so easily. + </p> + <p> + “Am I some lout who has spent his days herding swine, think you, that you + could trick me into believing this creature to be Mademoiselle de La + Vauvraye—this creature with the mien of a peasant, with a breath + reeking of garlic like a third-rate eating-house, and the walk of a woman + who has never known footgear until this moment? Tell me, sir, for what + manner of fool did you take me?” + </p> + <p> + The Seneschal stood with blanched face and gaping mouth, his fire all + turned to ashes before the passion of this gaunt man. + </p> + <p> + Garnache paid no heed to him. He stepped to the girl, and roughly raised + her chin with his hand so that she was forced to look him in the face. + </p> + <p> + “What is your name, wench?” he asked her. + </p> + <p> + “Margot,” she blubbered, bursting into tears. + </p> + <p> + He dropped her chin, and turned away with a gesture of disgust. + </p> + <p> + “Get you gone,” he bade her harshly. “Get you back to the kitchen or the + onion-field from which they took you.” + </p> + <p> + And the girl, scarce believing her good fortune, departed with a speed + that bordered on the ludicrous. Tressan had naught to say, no word to stay + her with; pretence, he realized, was vain. + </p> + <p> + “Now, my Lord Seneschal,” quoth Garnache, arms akimbo, feet planted wide, + and eyes upon the wretched man’s countenance, “what may you have to say to + me?” + </p> + <p> + Tressan shifted his position; he avoided the other’s glance; he was + visibly trembling, and when presently he spoke it was in faltering + accents. + </p> + <p> + “It—it—seems, monsieur, that—ah—that I have been + the victim of some imposture.” + </p> + <p> + “It had rather seemed to me that the victim chosen was myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Clearly we were both victims,” the Seneschal rejoined. Then he proceeded + to explain. “I went to Condillac yesterday as you desired me, and after a + stormy interview with the Marquise I obtained from her—as I believed—the + person of Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye. You see I was not myself acquainted + with the lady.” + </p> + <p> + Garnache looked at him. He did not believe him. He regretted almost that + he had not further questioned the girl. But, after all, perhaps it might + be easier and more expedient if he were to appear to accept the + Seneschal’s statement. But he must provide against further fraud. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur le Seneschal,” said he in calmer tones, putting his anger from + him, “at the best you are a blunderer and an ass, at the worst a traitor. + I will inquire no further at present; I’ll not seek to discriminate too + finely.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, these insults—” began the Seneschal, summoning dignity to + his aid. But Garnache broke in: + </p> + <p> + “La, la! I speak in the Queen’s name. If you have thought to aid the + Dowager of Condillac in this resistance of Her Majesty’s mandate, let me + enjoin you, as you value your seneschalship—as you value your very + neck—to harbour that thought no longer. + </p> + <p> + “It seems that, after all, I must deal myself with the situation. I must + go myself to Condillac. If they should resist me, I shall look to you for + the necessary means to overcome that resistance. + </p> + <p> + “And bear you this in mind: I have chosen to leave it an open question + whether you were a party to the trick it has been sought to put upon the + Queen, through me, her representative. But it is a question that I have it + in my power to resolve at any moment—to resolve as I choose. Unless, + monsieur, I find you hereafter—as I trust—actuated by the most + unswerving loyalty, I shall resolve that question by proclaiming you a + traitor; and as a traitor I shall arrest you and carry you to Paris. + Monsieur le Seneschal, I have the honour to give you good-day!” + </p> + <p> + When he was gone, Monsieur de Tressan flung off his wig, and mopped the + perspiration from his brow. He went white as snow and red as fire by + turns, as he paced the apartment in a frenzy. Never in the fifteen years + that were sped since he had been raised to the governorship of the + province had any man taken such a tone with him and harangued him in such + terms. + </p> + <p> + A liar and a traitor had he been called that morning, a knave and a fool; + he had been browbeaten and threatened; and he had swallowed it all, and + almost turned to lick the hand that administered the dose. Dame! What + manner of cur was he become? And the man who had done all this—a + vulgar upstart out of Paris, reeking of leather and the barrack-room still + lived! + </p> + <p> + Bloodshed was in his mind; murder beckoned him alluringly to take her as + his ally. But he put the thought from him, frenzied though he might be. He + must fight this knave with other weapons; frustrate his mission, and send + him back to Paris and the Queen’s scorn, beaten and empty-handed. + </p> + <p> + “Babylas!” he shouted. + </p> + <p> + Immediately the secretary appeared. + </p> + <p> + “Have you given thought to the matter of Captain d’Aubran?” he asked, his + voice an impatient snarl. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, monsieur, I have pondered it all morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Well? And what have you concluded?” + </p> + <p> + “Helas! monsieur, nothing.” + </p> + <p> + Tressan smote the table before him a blow that shook some of the dust out + of the papers that cumbered it. “Ventregris! How am I served? For what do + I pay you, and feed you, and house you, good-for-naught, if you are to + fail me whenever I need the things you call your brains? Have you no + intelligence, no thought, no imagination? Can you invent no plausible + business, no likely rising, no possible disturbances that shall justify my + sending Aubran and his men to Montelimar—to the very devil, if need + be.” + </p> + <p> + The secretary trembled in his every limb; his eyes shunned his master’s as + his master’s had shunned Garnache’s awhile ago. The Seneschal was enjoying + himself. If he had been bullied and browbeaten, here, at least, was one + upon whom he, in his turn, might taste the joys of bullying and + browbeating. + </p> + <p> + “You lazy, miserable calf,” he stormed, “I might be better served by a + wooden image. Go! It seems I must rely upon myself. It is always so. + Wait!” he thundered; for the secretary, only too glad to obey his last + order, had already reached the door. “Tell Anselme to bid the Captain + attend me here at once.” + </p> + <p> + Babylas’s bowed and went his errand. + </p> + <p> + A certain amount of his ill-humour vented, Tressan made an effort to + regain his self-control. He passed his handkerchief for the last time over + face and head, and resumed his wig. + </p> + <p> + When d’Aubran entered, the Seneschal was composed and in his wonted habit + of ponderous dignity. “Ah, d’Aubran,” said he, “your men are ready?” + </p> + <p> + “They have been ready these four-and-twenty hours, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + “Good. You are a brisk soldier, d’Aubran. You are a man to be relied + upon.” + </p> + <p> + D’Aubran bowed. He was a tall, active young fellow with a pleasant face + and a pair of fine black eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur le Seneschal is very good.” + </p> + <p> + With a wave of the hand the Seneschal belittled his own goodness. + </p> + <p> + “You will march out of Grenoble within the hour, Captain, and you will + lead your men to Montelimar. There you will quarter them, and await my + further orders. Babylas will give you a letter to the authorities, + charging them to find you suitable quarters. While there, d’Aubran, and + until my further orders reach you, you will employ your time in probing + the feeling in the hill district. You understand?” + </p> + <p> + “Imperfectly,” d’Aubran confessed. + </p> + <p> + “You will understand better when you have been in Montelimar a week or so. + It may, of course, be a false alarm. Still, we must safeguard the King’s + interests and be prepared. Perhaps we may afterwards be charged with + starting at shadows; but it is better to be on the alert from the moment + the shadow is perceived than to wait until the substance itself has + overwhelmed us.” + </p> + <p> + It sounded so very much as if the Seneschal’s words really had some hidden + meaning, that d’Aubran, if not content with going upon an errand of which + he knew so little, was, at least, reconciled to obey the orders he + received. He uttered words that conveyed some such idea to Tressan’s mind, + and within a half-hour he was marching out of Grenoble with beating drums, + on his two days’ journey to Montelimar. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. THE CHATEAU DE CONDILLAC + </h2> + <p> + As Captain d’Aubran and his troop were speeding westwards from Grenoble, + Monsieur de Garnache, ever attended by his man, rode briskly in the + opposite direction, towards the grey towers of Condillac, that reared + themselves towards the greyer sky above the valley of the Isere. It was a + chill, dull, autumnal day, with a raw wind blowing from the Alps; its + breath was damp, and foretold of the rain that was likely to come anon, + the rain with which the clouds hanging low about the distant hills were + pregnant. + </p> + <p> + But Monsieur de Garnache was totally insensible to his surroundings; his + mind was very busy with the interview from which he had come, and the + interview to which he was speeding. Once he permitted himself a + digression, that he might point a moral for the benefit of his servant. + </p> + <p> + “You see, Rebecque, what a plague it is to have to do with women. Are you + sufficiently grateful to me for having quelled your matrimonial ardour of + two months ago? No, you are not. Grateful you may be; sufficiently + grateful, never; it would be impossible. No gratitude could be + commensurate with the benefit I conferred upon you. Yet if you had + married, and discovered for yourself the troubles that come from too close + an association with that sex which some wag of old ironically called the + weaker, and of which contemporary fools with no sense of irony continue so + to speak in good faith, you could have blamed only yourself. You would + have shrugged your shoulders and made the best of it, realizing that no + other man had put this wrong upon you. But with me—thousand devils!—it + is very different. I am a man who, in one particular at least, has chosen + his way of life with care; I have seen to it that I should walk a road + unencumbered by any petticoat. What happens? What comes of all my careful + plans? + </p> + <p> + “Fate sends an infernal cut-throat to murder our good king—whose + soul God rest eternally! And since his son is of an age too tender to + wield the sceptre, the boy’s mother does it in his name. Thus, I, a + soldier, being subject to the head of the State, find myself, by no + devising of my own, subject to a woman. + </p> + <p> + “In itself that is bad enough. Too bad, indeed—Ventregris!—too + bad. Yet Fate is not content. It must occur to this woman to select me—me + of all men—to journey into Dauphiny, and release another woman from + the clutches of yet a third. And to what shifts are we not put, to what + discomforts not subjected? You know them, Rabecque, for you have shared + them with me. But it begins to break upon my mind that what we have + endured may be as nothing to what may lie before us. It is an ill thing to + have to do with women. Yet you, Rabecque, would have deserted me for one + of them!” + </p> + <p> + Rabecque was silent. Maybe he was ashamed of himself; or maybe that, not + agreeing with his master, he had yet sufficient appreciation of his + position to be discreetly silent where his opinions might be at variance. + Thus Garnache was encouraged to continue. + </p> + <p> + “And what is all this trouble about, which they have sent me to set right? + About a marriage. There is a girl wants to marry one man, and a woman who + wants to marry her to another. Ponder the possibilities of tragedy in such + a situation. Half this world’s upheavals have had their source in less. + Yet you, Rabecque, would have married!” + </p> + <p> + Necessity at last turned his discourse to other matters. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, now,” said he abruptly, in a different tone, “is there + hereabouts a ford?” + </p> + <p> + “There is a bridge up yonder, monsieur,” returned the servant, thankful to + have the conversation changed. + </p> + <p> + They rode towards it in silence, Garnache’s eyes set now upon the grey + pile that crowned the hillock, a half-mile away, on the opposite bank of + the stream. They crossed the bridge and rode up the gently rising, bare, + and rugged ground towards Condillac. The place wore an entirely peaceful + air, strong and massive though it appeared. It was encircled by a ditch, + but the drawbridge was down, and the rust on its chains argued that long + had it been so. + </p> + <p> + None coming to challenge them, the pair rode across the planks, and the + dull thud of their hooves started into activity some one in the gatehouse. + </p> + <p> + A fellow rudely clad—a hybrid between man-at-arms and lackey—lounged + on a musket to confront them in the gateway. Monsieur de Garnache + announced his name, adding that he came to crave an audience of Madame la + Marquise, and the man stood aside to admit him. Thus he and Rabecque rode + forward into the roughly paved courtyard. + </p> + <p> + From several doorways other men emerged, some of martial bearing, showing + that the place was garrisoned to some extent. Garnache took little heed of + them. He flung his reins to the man whom he had first addressed—the + fellow had kept pace beside him—and leapt nimbly to the ground, + bidding Rabecque await him there. + </p> + <p> + The soldier lackey resigned the reins to Rabecque, and requested Monsieur + de Garnache to follow him. He led the way through a door on the left, down + a passage and across an anteroom, and ushered the visitor finally into a + spacious, gloomy hall, panelled in black oak and lighted as much by the + piled-up fire that flared on the noble hearth as by the grey daylight that + filtered through the tall mullioned windows. + </p> + <p> + As they entered, a liver-coloured hound that lay stretched before the fire + growled lazily, and showed the whites of his eyes. Paying little attention + to the dog, Garnache looked about him. The apartment was handsome beyond + praise, in a sombre, noble fashion. It was hung with pictures of departed + Condillacs—some of them rudely wrought enough—with trophies of + ancient armour, and with implements of the chase. In the centre stood an + oblong table of black oak, very richly carved about its massive legs, and + in a china bowl, on this, an armful of late roses filled the room with + their sweet fragrance. + </p> + <p> + Then Garnache espied a page on the window-seat, industriously burnishing a + cuirass. He pursued his task, indifferent to the newcomer’s advent, until + the knave who had conducted thither the Parisian called the boy and bade + him go tell the Marquise that a Monsieur de Garnache, with a message from + the Queen-Regent, begged an audience. + </p> + <p> + The boy rose, and simultaneously, out of a great chair by the hearth, + whose tall back had hitherto concealed him, there rose another figure. + This was a stripling of some twenty summers—twenty-one, in fact—of + a pale, beautifully featured face, black hair and fine black eyes, and + very sumptuously clad in a suit of shimmering silk whose colour shifted + from green to purple as he moved. + </p> + <p> + Monsieur de Garnache assumed that he was in the presence of Marius de + Condillac. He bowed a trifle stiffly, and was surprised to have his bow + returned with a graciousness that amounted almost to cordiality. + </p> + <p> + “You are from Paris, monsieur?” said the young man, in a gentle, pleasant + voice. “I fear you have had indifferent weather for your journey.” + </p> + <p> + Garnache thought of other things besides the weather that he had found + indifferent, and he felt warmed almost to the point of anger at the very + recollection. But he bowed again, and answered amiably enough. + </p> + <p> + The young man offered him a seat, assuring him that his mother would not + keep him waiting long. The page had already gone upon his errand. + </p> + <p> + Garnache took the proffered chair, and sank down with creak and jingle to + warm himself at the fire. + </p> + <p> + “From what you have said, I gather that you are Monsieur Marius de + Condillac,” said he. “I, as you may have heard me announced by your + servant, am Martin Marie Rigobert de Garnache—at your service.” + </p> + <p> + “We have heard of you, Monsieur de Garnache,” said the youth as he crossed + his shapely legs of silken violet, and fingered the great pearl that + depended from his ear. “But we had thought that by now you would be on + your way to Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “No doubt—with Margot,” was the grim rejoinder. + </p> + <p> + But Marius either gathered no suggestion from its grimness, or did not + know the name Garnache uttered, for he continued: + </p> + <p> + “We understood that you were to escort Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye to + Paris, to place her under the tutelage of the Queen-Regent. I will not + conceal from you that we were chagrined at the reflection cast upon + Condillac; nevertheless, Her Majesty’s word is law in Dauphiny as much as + it is in Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite as much, and I am relieved to hear you confess it,” said Garnache + drily, and he scanned more closely the face of this young man. He found + cause to modify the excellent impression he had received at first. + Marius’s eyebrows were finely pencilled, but they arched a shade too much, + and his eyes were set a trifle too closely; the mouth, which had seemed + beautiful at first, looked, in addition, on this closer inspection, weak, + sensual, and cruel. + </p> + <p> + There fell upon the momentary silence the sound of an opening door, and + both men rose simultaneously to their feet. + </p> + <p> + In the splendid woman that entered, Monsieur de Garnache saw a wonderful + likeness to the boy who stood beside him. She received the emissary very + graciously. Marius set a chair for her between the two they had been + occupying, and thus interchanging phrases of agreeable greeting the three + sat down about the hearth with every show of the greatest amity. + </p> + <p> + A younger man might have been put out of countenance; the woman’s + surpassing beauty, her charm of manner, her melodious voice, falling on + the ear soft and gentle as a caress, might have turned a man of less + firmness a little from his purpose, a little perhaps from his loyalty and + the duty that had brought him all the way from Paris. But Monsieur de + Garnache was to her thousand graces as insensible as a man of stone. And + he came to business briskly. He had no mind to spend the day at her + fireside in pleasant, meaningless talk. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said he, “monsieur your son informs me that you have heard of me + and of the business that brings me into Dauphiny. I had not looked for the + honour of journeying quite so far as Condillac; but since Monsieur de + Tressan, whom I made my ambassador, appears to have failed so signally, I + am constrained to inflict my presence upon you.” + </p> + <p> + “Inflict?” quoth she, with a pretty look of make-believe dismay. “How + harsh a word, monsieur!” + </p> + <p> + The smoothness of the implied compliment annoyed him. + </p> + <p> + “I will use any word you think more adequate, madame, if you will suggest + it,” he answered tartly. + </p> + <p> + “There are a dozen I might suggest that would better fit the case—and + with more justice to yourself,” she answered, with a smile that revealed a + gleam of white teeth behind her scarlet lips. “Marcus, bid Benoit bring + wine. Monsieur de Garnache will no doubt be thirsting after his ride.” + </p> + <p> + Garnache said nothing. Acknowledge the courtesy he would not; refuse it he + could not. So he sat, and waited for her to speak, his eyes upon the fire. + </p> + <p> + Madame had already set herself a course. Keener witted than her son, she + had readily understood, upon Garnache’s being announced to her, that his + visit meant the failure of the imposture by which she had sought to be rid + of him. + </p> + <p> + “I think, monsieur,” she said presently, watching him from under her lids, + “that we have, all of us who are concerned in Mademoiselle de La + Vauvraye’s affairs, been at cross-purposes. She is an impetuous, impulsive + child, and it happened that some little time ago we had words—such + things will happen in the most united families. Whilst the heat of her + foolish anger was upon her, she wrote a letter to the Queen, in which she + desired to be removed from my tutelage. Since then, monsieur, she has come + to repent her of it. You, who no doubt understand a woman’s mind—” + </p> + <p> + “Set out upon no such presumption, madame,” he interrupted. “I know as + little of a woman’s mind as any man who thinks he knows a deal—and + that is nothing.” + </p> + <p> + She laughed as at an excellent jest, and Marius, overhearing Garnache’s + retort as he was returning to resume his seat, joined in her laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Paris is a fine whetstone for a man’s wits,” said he. + </p> + <p> + Garnache shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “I take it, madame, that you wish me to understand that Mademoiselle de La + Vauvraye, repenting of her letter, desires no longer to repair to Paris; + desires, in fact, to remain here at Condillac in your excellent care.” + </p> + <p> + “You apprehend the position exactly, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + “To my mind,” said he, “it presents few features difficult of + apprehension.” + </p> + <p> + Marius’s eyes flashed his mother a look of relief; but the Marquise, who + had an ear more finely trained, caught the vibration of a second meaning + in the emissary’s words. + </p> + <p> + “All being as you say, madame,” he continued, “will you tell me why, + instead of some message to this purport, you sent Monsieur de Tressan back + to me with a girl taken from some kitchen or barnyard, whom it was sought + to pass off upon me as Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye?” + </p> + <p> + The Marquise laughed, and her son, who had shown signs of perturbation, + taking his cue from her, laughed too. + </p> + <p> + “It was a jest, monsieur”—she told him, miserably conscious that the + explanation could sound no lamer. + </p> + <p> + “My compliments, madame, upon the humour that prevails in Dauphiny. But + your jest failed of its purpose. It did not amuse me, nor, so far as I + could discern, was Monsieur de Tressan greatly taken with it. But all this + is of little moment, madame,” he continued. “Since you tell me that + Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye is content to remain here, I am satisfied that + it is so.” + </p> + <p> + They were the very words that she desired to hear from him; yet his manner + of uttering them gave her little reassurance. The smile on her lips was + forced; her watchful eyes smiled not at all. + </p> + <p> + “Still,” he continued, “you will be so good as to remember that I am not + my own master in this affair. Were that so, I should not fail to relieve + you at once of my unbidden presence.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, monsieur—” + </p> + <p> + “But, being the Queen’s emissary, I have her orders to obey, and those + orders are to convey Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye to Paris. They make no + allowance for any change that may have occurred in mademoiselle’s + inclinations. If the journey is now distasteful to her, she has but her + own rashness to blame in having sought it herself. What imports is that + she is bidden by the Queen to repair to Paris; as a loyal subject she must + obey the Queen’s commands; you, as a loyal subject, must see to it that + she obeys them. So, madame, I count upon your influence with mademoiselle + to see that she is ready to set out by noon to-morrow. One day already has + been wasted me by your—ah—jest, madame. The Queen likes her + ambassadors to be brisk.” + </p> + <p> + The Dowager reclined in her chair, and bit her lip. This man was too keen + for her. She had no illusions. He had seen through her as if she had been + made of glass; he had penetrated her artifices and detected her + falsehoods. Yet feigning to believe her and them, he had first neutralized + her only weapons—other than offensive—then used them for her + own defeat. Marius it was who took up the conversation. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” he cried—and there was a frown drawing together his fine + brows—“what you suggest amounts to a tyranny on the Queen’s part.” + </p> + <p> + Garnache was on his feet, his chair grating the polished floor. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur says?” quoth he, his glittering eye challenging the rash boy to + repeat his words. + </p> + <p> + But the Dowager intervened with a little trill of laughter. + </p> + <p> + “Bon Dieu! Marius, what are you saying? Foolish boy! And you, Monsieur de + Garnache, do not heed him, I beg you. We are so far from Court in this + little corner of Dauphiny, and my son has been reared in so free an + atmosphere that he is sometimes betrayed into expressions whose + impropriety he does not realize.” + </p> + <p> + Garnache bowed in token of his perfect satisfaction, and at that moment + two servants entered bearing flagons and beakers, fruits and sweetmeats, + which they placed upon the table. The Dowager rose, and went to do the + honours of the board. The servants withdrew. + </p> + <p> + “You will taste our wine of Condillac, monsieur?” + </p> + <p> + He acquiesced, expressing thanks, and watched her fill a beaker for him, + one for herself, and another for her son. She brought him the cup in her + hands. He took it with a grave inclination of the head. Then she proffered + him the sweetmeats. To take one, he set down the cup on the table, by + which he had also come to stand. His left hand was gloved and held his + beaver and whip. + </p> + <p> + She nibbled, herself, at one of the comfits, and he followed her example. + The boy, a trifle sullen since the last words, stood on the hearth with + his back to the fire, his hands clasped behind him. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” she said, “do you think it would enable you to comply with + what I have signified to be not only our own wishes, but those of + Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye herself, if she were to state them to you?” + </p> + <p> + He looked up sharply, his lips parting in a smile that revealed his strong + white teeth. + </p> + <p> + “Are you proposing another of your jests, madame?” + </p> + <p> + She laughed outright. A wonderful assurance was hers, thought Monsieur de + Garnache. “Mon Dieu! no, monsieur,” she cried. “If you will, you may see + the lady herself.” + </p> + <p> + He took a turn in the apartment, idly, as does a man in thought. + </p> + <p> + “Very well,” said he, at last. “I do not say that it will alter my + determination. But perhaps—yes, I should be glad of an opportunity + of the honour of making Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye’s acquaintance. But no + impersonations, I beg, madame!” He said it half-laughingly, taking his cue + from her. + </p> + <p> + “You need have no fear of any.” + </p> + <p> + She walked to the door, opened it, and called “Gaston!” In answer came the + page whom Garnache had found in the room when he was admitted. + </p> + <p> + “Desire Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye to come to us here at once,” she bade + the boy, and closed the door. + </p> + <p> + Garnache had been all eyes for some furtive sign, some whispered word; but + he had surprised neither. + </p> + <p> + His pacing had brought him to the opposite end of the board, where stood + the cup of wine madame had poured for Marius. His own, Garnache had left + untouched. As if abstractedly, he now took up the beaker, pledged madame + with his glance, and drank. She watched him, and suddenly a suspicion + darted through her mind—a suspicion that he suspected them. + </p> + <p> + Dieu! What a man was this! He took no chances. Madame reflected that this + augured ill for the success of the last resource upon which, should all + else fail, she was counting to keep mademoiselle at Condillac. It seemed + incredible that one so wary and watchful should have committed the + rashness of venturing alone into Condillac without taking his precautions + to ensure his ability to retreat. + </p> + <p> + In her heart she felt daunted by him. But in the matter of that wine—the + faintest of smiles hovered on her lips, her eyebrows went up a shade. Then + she took up the cup that had been poured for the Parisian, and bore it to + her son. + </p> + <p> + “Marius, you are not drinking,” said she. And seeing a command in her + eyes; he took the beaker from her hand and bore it to his lips, emptying + the half of it, whilst with the faintest smile of scorn the Dowager swept + Garnache a glance of protest, as of one repudiating an unworthy challenge. + </p> + <p> + Then the door opened, and the eyes of all three were centred upon the girl + that entered. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. MONSIEUR DE GARNACHE LOSES HIS TEMPER + </h2> + <p> + “You sent for me, madame,” said the girl, seeming to hesitate upon the + threshold of the room, and her voice—a pleasant, boyish contralto—was + very cold and conveyed a suggestion of disdain. + </p> + <p> + The Marquise detected that inauspicious note, and was moved by it to + regret her already of having embarked upon so bold a game as to confront + Monsieur de Garnache with Valerie. It was a step she had decided upon as a + last means of convincing the Parisian of the truth of her statement + touching the change that had taken place in mademoiselle’s inclinations. + And she had provided for it as soon as she heard of Garnache’s arrival by + informing mademoiselle that should she be sent for, she must tell the + gentleman from Paris that it was her wish to remain at Condillac. + Mademoiselle had incontinently refused, and madame, to win her compliance, + had resorted to threats. + </p> + <p> + “You will do as you consider best, of course,” she had said, in a voice + that was ominously sweet. “But I promise you that if you do otherwise than + as I tell you, you shall be married before sunset to Marius, whether you + be willing or not. Monsieur de Garnache comes alone, and if I so will it + alone he shall depart or not at all. I have men enough at Condillac to see + my orders carried out, no matter what they be. + </p> + <p> + “You may tell yourself that this fellow will return to help you. Perhaps + he will; but when he does, it will be too late so far as you shall be + concerned.” + </p> + <p> + Terrified by that threat, Valerie had blenched, and had felt her spirit + deserting her. + </p> + <p> + “And if I comply, madame?” she had asked. “If I do as you wish, if I tell + this gentleman that I no longer desire to go to Paris—what then?” + </p> + <p> + The Dowager’s manner had become more affectionate. She had patted the + shrinking girl upon the shoulder. “In that case, Valerie, you shall suffer + no constraint; you shall continue here as you have done.” + </p> + <p> + “And has there been no constraint hitherto?” had been the girl’s indignant + rejoinder. + </p> + <p> + “Hardly, child,” the Dowager had returned. “We have sought to guide you to + a wise choice—no more than that. Nor shall we do more hereafter if + you do my pleasure now and give this Monsieur de Garnache the answer that + I bid you. But if you fail me, remember—you marry Marius before + nightfall.” + </p> + <p> + She had not waited for the girl to promise her compliance. She was too + clever a woman to show anxiety on that score. She left her with that + threat vibrating in her mind, confident that she would scare the girl into + obedience by the very assurance she exhibited that Valerie would not dare + to disobey. + </p> + <p> + But now, at the sound of that chill voice, at the sight of that calm, + resolved countenance, madame was regretting that she had not stayed to + receive the girl’s promise before she made so very sure of her pliability. + </p> + <p> + She glanced anxiously at Garnache. His eyes were upon the girl. He was + remarking the slender, supple figure, moderately tall and looking taller + in its black gown of mourning; the oval face, a trifle pale now from the + agitation that stirred her, with its fine level brows, its clear, hazel + eyes, and its crown of lustrous brown hair rolled back under the daintiest + of white coifs. His glance dwelt appreciatively on the slender nose, with + its delicate nostrils, the charming line of mouth and chin, the dazzling + whiteness of her skin, conspicuous not only in neck and face but in the + long, slender hands that were clasped before her. + </p> + <p> + These signs of breeding, everywhere proclaimed, left him content that here + was no imposture; the girl before him was, indeed, Valerie de La Vauvraye. + </p> + <p> + At madame’s invitation she came forward. Marius hastened to close the door + and to set a chair for her, his manner an admirable suggestion of ardour + restrained by deference. + </p> + <p> + She sat down with an outward calm under which none would have suspected + the full extent of her agitation, and she bent her eyes upon the man whom + the Queen had sent for her deliverance. + </p> + <p> + After all, Garnache’s appearance was hardly suggestive of the role of + Perseus which had been thrust upon him. She saw a tall, spare man, with + prominent cheek-bones, a gaunt, high-bridged nose, very fierce mustachios, + and a pair of eyes that were as keen as sword-blades and felt to her + glance as penetrating. There was little about him like to take a woman’s + fancy or claim more than a moderate share of her attention, even when + circumstances rendered her as interested in him as was now Mademoiselle de + La Vauvraye. + </p> + <p> + There fell a silence, broken at last by Marius, who leaned, a supple, + graceful figure, his elbow resting upon the summit of Valerie’s chair. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur de Garnache does us the injustice to find a difficulty in + believing that you no longer wish to leave us.” + </p> + <p> + That was by no means what Garnache had implied; still, since it really + expressed his mind, he did not trouble to correct Marius. + </p> + <p> + Valerie said nothing, but her eyes travelled to madame’s countenance, + where she found a frown. Garnache observed the silence, and drew his own + conclusions. + </p> + <p> + “So we have sent for you, Valerie,” said the Dowager, taking up her son’s + sentence, “that you may yourself assure Monsieur de Garnache that it is + so.” + </p> + <p> + Her voice was stern; it bore to the girl’s ears a subtle, unworded + repetition of the threat the Marquise had already voiced. Mademoiselle + caught it, and Garnache caught it too, although he failed to interpret it + as precisely as he would have liked. + </p> + <p> + The girl seemed to experience a difficulty in answering. Her eyes roved to + Garnache’s, and fell away in affright before their glitter. That man’s + glance seemed to read her very mind, she thought; and suddenly the + reflection that had terrified her became her hope. If it were as she + deemed it, what matter what she said? He would know the truth, in spite of + all. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madame,” she said at last, and her voice was wholly void of + expression. “Yes, monsieur, it is as madame says. It is my wish to remain + at Condillac.” + </p> + <p> + From the Dowager, standing a pace or two away from Garnache, came the + sound of a half-sigh. Garnache missed nothing. He caught the sound, and + accepted it as an expression of relief. The Marquise stepped back a pace; + idly, one might have thought; not so thought Garnache. It had this + advantage: that it enabled her to stand where he might not watch her face + without turning his head. He was content that such was her motive. To + defeat her object, to show her that he had guessed it, he stepped back, + too, also with that same idleness of air, so that he was once more in line + with her. And then he spoke, addressing Valerie. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle, that you should have written to the Queen in haste is + deplorable now that your views have undergone this change. I am a stupid + man, mademoiselle, just a blunt soldier with orders to obey and no + authority to think. My orders are to conduct you to Paris. Your will was + not taken into consideration. I know not how the Queen would have me act, + seeing your reluctance; it may be that she would elect to leave you here, + as you desire. But it is not for me to arrogate to determine the Queen’s + mind. I can but be guided by her orders, and those orders leave me no + course but one—to ask you, mademoiselle, to make ready immediately + to go with me.” + </p> + <p> + The look of relief that swept into Valerie’s face, the little flush of + colour that warmed her cheeks, hitherto so pale, were all the confirmation + that he needed of what he suspected. + </p> + <p> + “But, monsieur,” said Marius, “it must be plain to you that since the + Queen’s orders are but a compliance with mademoiselle’s wishes, now that + mademoiselle’s wishes have altered, so too would Her Majesty’s commands + alter to comply with them once more.” + </p> + <p> + “That may be plain to you, monsieur; for me, unfortunately, there are my + orders for only guide,” Garnache persisted. “Does not mademoiselle herself + agree with me?” + </p> + <p> + She was about to speak; her glance had looked eager, her lips had parted. + Then, of a sudden, the little colour faded from her cheeks again, and she + seemed stricken with a silence. Garnache’s eyes, directed in a sidelong + glance to the Marquise’s face, surprised there a frown that had prompted + that sudden change. + </p> + <p> + He half-turned, his manner changing suddenly to a freezing civility. + </p> + <p> + “Madame la Marquise,” said he, “I beg with all deference to suggest that I + am not allowed the interview you promised me with Mademoiselle de La + Vauvraye.” + </p> + <p> + The ominous coldness with which he had begun to speak had had a disturbing + effect upon the Dowager; the words he uttered, when she had weighed them, + brought an immense relief. It seemed, then, that he but needed convincing + that this was Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye. This argued that for the rest + he was satisfied. + </p> + <p> + “There, monsieur, you are at fault,” she cried, and she was smiling into + his grave eyes. “Because once I put that jest upon you, you imagine—” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” he broke in. “You misapprehend me. I do not say that this is not + Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye; I do not say that—” + </p> + <p> + He paused; he was at the end of his resources. He did not know how to put + the thing without giving offence, and it had been his resolve—realizing + the necessity for it—to conduct this matter with a grave courtesy. + </p> + <p> + To feel that after having carried the affair so far with a for him—commendable + lightness of touch, he should be at a loss for a delicate word to convey a + harsh accusation began to anger him. And once Garnache began to be + angered, the rest followed quickly. It was just that flaw in his character + that had been the ruin of him, that had blighted what otherwise might have + been a brilliant career. Astute and wily as a fox, brave as a lion, and + active as a panther, gifted with intelligence, insight and resource, he + had carried a dozen enterprises up to the very threshold of success, there + to have ruined them all by giving way to some sudden excess of choler. + </p> + <p> + So was it now. His pause was but momentary. Yet in that moment, from calm + and freezing that he had been, he became ruffled and hot. The change was + visible in his heightened colour, in his flashing eyes, and in his + twitching mustachios. For just a second he sought to smother his wrath; he + had a glimmer of remembrance of the need for caution and diplomacy in the + darkness of anger that was descending over him. Then, without further + warning, he exploded. + </p> + <p> + His nervous, sinewy hand clenched itself and fell with a crash upon the + table, overturning a flagon and sending a lake of wine across the board, + to trickle over at a dozen points and form in puddles at the feet of + Valerie. Startled, they all watched him, mademoiselle the most startled of + the three. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” he thundered, “I have been receiving dancing-lessons at your + hands for long enough. It is time, I think, we did a little ordinary + walking, else shall we get no farther along the road I mean to go and that + is the road to Paris with mademoiselle for company.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, monsieur!” cried the startled Marquise, placing herself + intrepidly before him; and Marius trembled for her, for so wild did the + man seem that he almost feared he might strike her. + </p> + <p> + “I have heard enough,” he blazed. “Not another word from any here in + Condillac! I’ll take this lady with me now, at once; and if any here + raises a finger to resist me, as Heaven is my witness, it will be the last + resistance he will ever offer any man. Let a hand be laid upon me, or a + sword bared before my eyes, and I swear, madame, that I’ll come back and + burn this dunghill of rebellion to the ground.” + </p> + <p> + In the blindness of his passion all his fine keenness was cast to the + wind, his all-observing watchfulness was smothered in the cloud of anger + that oppressed his brain. He never saw the sign that madame made to her + son, never so much as noticed Marius’s stealthy progress towards the door. + </p> + <p> + “Oh,” he continued, a satirical note running now through his tempestuous + voice, “it is a fine thing to cozen each other with honeyed words, with + smirks and with grimaces. But we have done with that, madame.” He towered + grimly above her, shaking a threatening finger in her very face. “We have + done with that. We shall resort to deeds, instead.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, monsieur,” she answered very coldly, sneering upon his red-hot fury, + “there shall be deeds enough to satisfy even your outrageous thirst for + them.” + </p> + <p> + That cold, sneering voice, with its note of threat, was like a hand of ice + upon his overheated brain. It cooled him on the instant. He stiffened, and + looked about him. He saw that Marius had disappeared, and that + mademoiselle had risen and was regarding him with singularly imploring + eyes. + </p> + <p> + He bit his lip in mortified chagrin. He cursed himself inwardly for a fool + and a dolt—the more pitiable because he accounted himself cunning + above others. Had he but kept his temper, had he done no more than + maintain the happy pretence that he was a slave to the orders he had + received—a mere machine—he might have gained his ends by sheer + audacity. At least, his way of retreat would have remained open, and he + might have gone, to return another day with force at his heels. + </p> + <p> + As it was, that pretty whelp, her son, had been sent, no doubt, for men. + He stepped up to Valerie. + </p> + <p> + “Are you ready, mademoiselle?” said he; for little hope though he might + still have of winning through, yet he must do the best to repair the + damage that was of his making. + </p> + <p> + She saw that the storm of passion had passed, and she was infected by the + sudden, desperate daring that prompted that question of his. + </p> + <p> + “I am ready, monsieur,” said she, and her boyish voice had an intrepid + ring. “I will come with you as I am.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, in God’s name, let us be going.” + </p> + <p> + They moved together towards the door, with never another glance for the + Dowager where she stood, patting the head of the hound that had risen and + come to stand beside her. In silence she watched them, a sinister smile + upon her beautiful, ivory face. + </p> + <p> + Then came a sound of feet and voices in the anteroom. The door was flung + violently open, and a half-dozen men with naked swords came blundering + into the room, Marius bringing up the rear. + </p> + <p> + With a cry of fear Valerie shrank back against the panelled wall, her + little hands to her cheeks, her eyes dilating with alarm. + </p> + <p> + Garnache’s sword rasped out, an oath rattled from his clenched teeth, and + he fell on guard. The men paused, and took his measure. Marius urged them + on, as if they had been a pack of dogs. + </p> + <p> + “At him!” he snapped, his finger pointing, his handsome eyes flashing + angrily. “Cut him down!” + </p> + <p> + They moved; but mademoiselle moved at the same moment. She sprang before + them, between their swords and their prey. + </p> + <p> + “You shall not do it; you shall not do it!” she cried, and her face looked + drawn, her eyes distraught. “It is murder—murder, you curs!” And the + memory of how that dainty little lady stood undaunted before so much bared + steel, to shield him from those assassins, was one that abode ever after + with Garnache. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle,” said he, in a quiet voice, “if you will but stand aside + there will be some murder done among them first.” + </p> + <p> + But she did not move. Marius clenched his hands, fretted by the delay. The + Dowager looked on and smiled and patted her dog’s head. To her + mademoiselle now turned in appeal. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” she exclaimed, “you’ll not allow it. You’ll not let them do this + thing. Bid them put up their swords, madame. Bethink you that Monsieur de + Garnache is here in the Queen’s name.” + </p> + <p> + Too well did madame bethink her of it. Garnache need not plague himself + with vexation that his rash temper alone had wrought his ruin now. It had + but accelerated it. It was just possible, perhaps, that suavity might have + offered him opportunities; but, for the rest, from the moment that he + showed himself firm in his resolve to carry mademoiselle to Paris, his + doom was sealed. Madame would never willingly have allowed him to leave + Condillac alive, for she realized that did she do so he would stir up + trouble enough to have them outlawed. He must perish here, and be + forgotten. If questions came to be asked later, Condillac would know + nothing of him. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur de Garnache promised us some fine deeds on his own account,” she + mocked him. “We but afford him the opportunity to perform them. If these + be not enough for his exceeding valour, there are more men without whom we + can summon.” + </p> + <p> + A feeling of pity for mademoiselle—perhaps of no more than decency—now + overcame Marius. He stepped forward. + </p> + <p> + “Valerie,” he said, “it is not fitting you should remain.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, take her hence,” the Dowager bade him, with a smile. “Her presence + is unmanning our fine Parisian.” + </p> + <p> + Eager to do so, over-eager, Marius came forward, past his men-at-arms, + until he was but some three paces from the girl and just out of reach of a + sudden dart of Garnache’s sword. + </p> + <p> + Softly, very warily, Garnache slipped his right foot a little farther to + the right. Suddenly he threw his weight upon it, so that he was clear of + the girl. Before they understood what he was about, the thing had taken + place. He had leaped forward, caught the young man by the breast of his + shimmering doublet, leaped back to shelter beyond mademoiselle, hurled + Marius to the ground, and planted his foot, shod as it was in his thickly + mudded riding-boot, full upon the boy’s long, shapely neck. + </p> + <p> + “Move so much as a finger, my pretty fellow,” he snapped at him, “and I’ll + crush the life from you as from a toad.” + </p> + <p> + There was a sudden forward movement on the part of the men; but if + Garnache was vicious, he was calm. Were he again to lose his temper now, + there would indeed be a speedy end to him. That much he knew, and kept + repeating to himself, lest he should be tempted to forget it. + </p> + <p> + “Back!” he bade them in a voice so imperative that they stopped, and + looked on with gaping mouths. “Back, or he perishes!” And dropping the + point of his sword, he lightly rested it upon the young man’s breast. + </p> + <p> + In dismay they looked to the Dowager for instruction. She craned forward, + the smile gone from her lips, a horror in her eyes, her bosom heaving. A + moment ago she had smiled upon mademoiselle’s outward signs of fear; had + mademoiselle been so minded, she might in her turn have smiled now at the + terror written large upon the Dowager’s own face. But her attention was + all absorbed by the swiftly executed act by which Garnache had gained at + least a temporary advantage. + </p> + <p> + She had turned and looked at the strange spectacle of that dauntless man, + erect, his foot upon Marius’s neck, like some fantastic figure of a + contemporary Saint George and a contemporary dragon. She pressed her hands + tighter upon her bosom; her eyes sparkled with an odd approval of that + brisk deed. + </p> + <p> + But Garnache’s watchful eyes were upon the Dowager. He read the anxious + fear that marred the beauty of her face, and he took heart at the sight, + for he was dependent upon the extent to which he might work upon her + feelings. + </p> + <p> + “You smiled just now, madame, when it was intended to butcher a man before + your eyes. You smile no longer, I observe, at this the first of the fine + deeds I promised you.” + </p> + <p> + “Let him go,” she said, and her voice was scarce louder than a whisper, + horror-laden. “Let him go, monsieur, if you would save your own neck.” + </p> + <p> + “At that price, yes—though, believe me, you are paying too much for + so poor a life as this. Still, you value the thing, and I hold it; and so + you’ll forgive me if I am extortionate.” + </p> + <p> + “Release him, and, in God’s name, go your ways. None shall stay you,” she + promised him. + </p> + <p> + He smiled. “I’ll need some security for that. I do not choose to take your + word for it, Madame de Condillac.” + </p> + <p> + “What security can I give you?” she cried, wringing her hands, her eyes on + the boy’s ashen face ashen from mingling fear and rage—where it + showed beyond Garnache’s heavy boot. + </p> + <p> + “Bid one of your knaves summon my servant. I left him awaiting me in the + courtyard.” + </p> + <p> + The order was given, and one of the cut-throats departed. + </p> + <p> + In a tense and anxious silence they awaited his return, though he kept + them but an instant. + </p> + <p> + Rabecque’s eyes took on a startled look when he had viewed the situation. + Garnache called to him to deprive those present of their weapons. + </p> + <p> + “And let none refuse, or offer him violence,” he added, “or your master’s + life shall pay the price of it.” + </p> + <p> + The Dowager with a ready anxiety repeated to them his commands. Rabecque, + understanding nothing, went from man to man, and received from each his + weapons. He placed the armful on the windowseat, at the far end of the + apartment, as Garnache bade him. At the other end of the long room, + Garnache ordered the disarmed men to range themselves. When that was done, + the Parisian removed his foot from his victim’s neck. + </p> + <p> + “Stand up,” he commanded, and Marius very readily obeyed him. + </p> + <p> + Garnache placed himself immediately behind the boy. “Madame,” said he, “no + harm shall come to your son if he is but wise. Let him disobey me, or let + any man in Condillac lift a hand against us, and that shall be the signal + for Monsieur de Condillac’s death. Mademoiselle, it is your wish to + accompany me to Paris?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, monsieur,” she answered fearlessly, her eyes sparkling now. + </p> + <p> + “We will be going then. Place yourself alongside of Monsieur de Condillac. + Rabecque, follow me. Forward, Monsieur de Condillac. You will be so good + as to conduct us to our horses in the courtyard.” + </p> + <p> + They made an odd procession as they marched out of the hall, under the + sullen eyes of the baulked cut-throats and their mistress. On the + threshold Garnache paused, and looked over his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Are you content, madame? Have you seen fine deeds enough for one day?” he + asked her, laughing. But, white to the lips with chagrin, she returned no + answer. + </p> + <p> + Garnache and his party crossed the anteroom, after having taken the + precaution to lock the door upon the Marquise and her men, and proceeding + down a gloomy passage they gained the courtyard. Here Marius was consoled + to find some men of the garrison of Condillac a half-score, or so—all + more or less armed, surrounding the horses of Garnache and his lackey. At + sight of the odd group that now appeared those ruffians stood at gaze, + surprised, and with suspicions aroused by Garnache’s naked sword, ready + for anything their master might demand of them. + </p> + <p> + Marius had in that instant a gleam of hope. Thus far, Garnache had been + master of the situation. But surely the position would be reversed when + Garnache and his man came to mount their horses, particularly considering + how hampered they must be by Valerie. This danger Garnache, however, was + no less quick to perceive, and with a dismaying promptness did he take his + measures. + </p> + <p> + “Remember,” he threatened Monsieur de Condillac, “if any of your men show + their teeth it will be the worse for you.” They had come to a halt on the + threshold of the courtyard. “You will be so good as to bid them retreat + through that doorway across the yard yonder.” + </p> + <p> + Marius hesitated. “And if I refuse?” he demanded hardily, but keeping his + back to Garnache. The men stirred, and stray words of mingling wonder and + anger reached the Parisian. + </p> + <p> + “You will not,” said Garnache, with quiet confidence. + </p> + <p> + “I think you make too sure,” Marius replied, and dissembled his misgivings + in a short laugh. Garnache became impatient. His position was not being + improved by delay. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur de Condillac,” said he, speaking quickly and yet with an + incisiveness of tone that made his words sound deliberate, “I am a + desperate man in a desperate position. Every moment that I tarry here + increases my danger and shortens my temper. If you think to temporize in + the hope of gaining an opportunity of turning the tables upon me, you must + be mad to dream that I shall permit it. Monsieur, you will at once order + those men to leave the courtyard by that doorway, or I give you my word of + honour that I shall run you through as you stand.” + </p> + <p> + “That would be to destroy yourself,” said Marius with an attempted note of + confidence. + </p> + <p> + “I should be no less destroyed by delay,” answered Garnache; and added + more sharply, “Give the word, monsieur, or I will make an end.” + </p> + <p> + From the movement behind him Marius guessed almost by instinct that + Garnache had drawn back for a lunge. At his side Valerie looked over her + shoulder, with eyes that were startled but unafraid. For a second Marius + considered whether he might not attempt to elude Garnache by a wild and + sudden dash towards his men. But the consequences of failure were too + fearful. + </p> + <p> + He shrugged his shoulders, and gave the order. The men hesitated a moment, + then shuffled away in the direction indicated. But they went slowly, with + much half-whispered, sullen conferring and many a backward glance at + Marius and those with him. + </p> + <p> + “Bid them go faster,” snapped Garnache. Marius obeyed him, and the men + obeyed Marius, and vanished into the gloom of the archway. After all, + thought Monsieur de Condillac, they need go no farther than that doorway; + they must have appreciated the situation by now; and he was confident they + would have the sense to hold themselves in readiness for a rush in the + moment of Garnache’s mounting. + </p> + <p> + But Garnache’s next order shattered that last hope. + </p> + <p> + “Rebecque,” said he, without turning his head, “go and lock them in.” + Before bidding the men go that way, he had satisfied himself that there + was a key on the outside of the door. “Monsieur de Condillac,” he resumed + to Marius, “you will order your men in no way to hinder my servant. I + shall act upon any menace of danger to my lackey precisely as I should + were I, myself, in danger.” + </p> + <p> + Marius’s heart sank within him, as sinks a stone through water. He + realized, as his mother had realized a little while before, that in + Garnache they had an opponent who took no chances. In a voice thick with + the torturing rage of impotence he gave the order upon which the grim + Parisian insisted. There followed a silence broken by the fall of + Rabecque’s heavily shod feet upon the stones of the yard, as he crossed it + to do his master’s bidding. The door creaked on its hinges; the key grated + screaming in its lock, and Rabecque returned to Garnache’s side even as + Garnache tapped Marius on the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “This way, Monsieur de Condillac, if you please,” said he, and as Marius + turned at last to face him, he stood aside and waved his left hand towards + the door through which they had lately emerged. A moment stood the youth + facing his stern conqueror; his hands were clenched until the knuckles + showed white; his face was a dull crimson. Vainly he sought for words in + which to vent some of the malicious chagrin that filled his soul almost to + bursting-point. Then, despairing, with a shrug and an inarticulate mutter, + he flung past the Parisian, obeying him as the cur obeys, with pendant + tail and teeth-revealing snarl. + </p> + <p> + Garnache closed the door upon him with a bang, and smiled quietly as he + turned to Valerie. + </p> + <p> + “I think we have won through, mademoiselle,” said he, with pardonable + vanity. “The rest is easy, though you may be subjected to some slight + discomfort between this and Grenoble.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled back at him, a pale, timid smile, like a gleam of sunshine from + a wintry sky. “That matters nothing,” she assured him, and strove to make + her voice sound brave. + </p> + <p> + There was need for speed, and compliments were set aside by Garnache, who, + at his best, was not felicitous with them. Valerie felt herself caught by + the wrist, a trifle roughly she remembered afterwards, and hurried across + the cobbles to the tethered horses, with which Rabecque was already busy. + She saw Garnache raise his foot to the stirrup and hoist himself to the + saddle. Then he held down a hand to her, bade her set her foot on his, and + called with an oath to Rabecque to lend her his assistance. A moment later + she was perched in front of Garnache, almost on the withers of his horse. + The cobbles rattled under its hooves, the timbers of the drawbridge sent + up a booming sound, they were across—out of Condillac—and + speeding at a gallop down the white road that led to the river; after them + pounded Rabecque, bumping horribly in his saddle, and attempting wildly, + and with awful objurgations, to find his stirrups. + </p> + <p> + They crossed the bridge that spans the Isere and took the road to Grenoble + at a sharp pace, with scarce a backward glance at the grey towers of + Condillac. Valerie experienced an overwhelming inclination to weep and + laugh, to cry and sing at one and the same time; but whether this odd + emotion sprang from the happenings in which she had had her part, or from + the exhilaration of that mad ride, she could not tell. No doubt it sprang + from both, owing a part to each. She controlled herself, however. A shy, + upward glance at the stern, set face of the man whose arm encircled and + held her fast had a curiously sobering effect upon her. Their eyes met, + and he smiled a friendly, reassuring smile, such as a father might have + bestowed upon a daughter. + </p> + <p> + “I do not think that they will charge me with blundering this time,” he + said. + </p> + <p> + “Charge you with blundering?” she echoed; and the inflection of the + pronoun might have flattered him had he not reflected that it was + impossible she could have understood his allusion. And now she bethought + her that she had not thanked him—and the debt was a heavy one. He + had come to her aid in an hour when hope seemed dead. He had come + single-handed—save for his man Rabecque; and in a manner that was + worthy of being made the subject of an epic, he had carried her out of + Condillac, away from the terrible Dowager and her cut-throats. The thought + of them sent a shiver through her. + </p> + <p> + “Do you feel the cold?” he asked concernedly; and that the wind might cut + her less, he slackened speed. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” she cried, her alarm waking again at the thought of the folk of + Condillac. “Make haste! Go on, go on! Mon Dieu! if they should overtake + us!” + </p> + <p> + He looked over his shoulder. The road ran straight for over a half-mile + behind them, and not a living thing showed upon it. + </p> + <p> + “You need have no alarm,” he smiled. “We are not pursued. They must have + realized the futility of attempting to overtake us. Courage, mademoiselle. + We shall be in Grenoble presently, and once there, you will have nothing + more to fear.” + </p> + <p> + “You are sure of that?” she asked, and there was doubt in her voice. + </p> + <p> + He smiled reassuringly again. “The Lord Seneschal shall supply us with an + escort,” he promised confidently. + </p> + <p> + “Still,” she said, “we shall not stay there, I hope, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + “No longer than may be necessary to procure a coach for you.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad of that,” said she. “I shall know no peace until Grenoble is a + good ten leagues behind us. The Marquise and her son are too powerful + there.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet their might shall not prevail against the Queen’s,” he made reply. + And as now they rode amain she fell to thanking him, shyly at first, then, + as she gathered confidence in her subject, with a greater fervour. But he + interrupted her ere she had gone far, “Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye,” said + he, “you overstate the matter.” His tone was chilling almost; and she felt + as she had been rebuked. “I am no more than the emissary of Her Majesty—it + is to her that your thanks are due.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but, monsieur,” she returned to the assault, “I owe some thanks to + you as well. What other in your place would have done what you have done?” + </p> + <p> + “I know not that, nor do I greatly care,” said he, and laughed, but with a + laugh that jarred on her. “That which I did I must have done, no matter + whom it was a question of saving. I am but an instrument in this matter, + mademoiselle.” + </p> + <p> + His thought was to do no more than belittle the service he had rendered + her, to stem her flow of gratitude, since, indeed, he felt, as he said, + that it was to the Queen-Regent her thanks were due. All unwitting was it—out + of his ignorance of the ways of thought of a sex with which he held the + view that it is an ill thing to meddle—that he wounded her by his + disclaimer, in which her sensitive maiden fancy imagined a something that + was almost contemptuous. + </p> + <p> + They rode in silence for a little spell, broken at last by Garnache in + expression of the thoughts that had come to him as a consequence of what + she had said. + </p> + <p> + “On this same subject of thanks,” said he—and as she raised her eyes + again she found him smiling almost tenderly—“if any are due between + us they are surely due from me to you.” + </p> + <p> + “From you to me?” she asked in wonder. + </p> + <p> + “Assuredly,” said he. “Had you not come between me and the Dowager’s + assassins there had been an end to me in the hall of Condillac.” + </p> + <p> + Her hazel eyes were very round for a moment, then they narrowed, and + little humorous lines formed at the corners of her lips. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur de Garnache,” said she, with a mock coldness that was a faint + echo of his own recent manner, “you overstate the case. That which I did I + must have done, no matter whom it was a question of saving. I was but an + instrument in this matter, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + His brows went up. He stared at her a moment, gathering instruction from + the shy mockery of her glance. Then he laughed with genuine amusement. + </p> + <p> + “True,” he said. “An instrument you were; but an instrument of Heaven, + whereas in me you but behold the instrument of an earthly power. We are + not quite quits, you see.” + </p> + <p> + But she felt, at least, that she was quits with him in the matter of his + repudiation of her own thanks, and the feeling bridged the unfriendly gap + that she had felt was opening out between them; and for no reason in the + world that she could think of, she was glad that this was so. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. MONSIEUR DE GARNACHE KEEPS HIS TEMPER + </h2> + <p> + Night had fallen and it had begun to rain when Garnache and Valerie + reached Grenoble. They entered the town afoot, the Parisian not desiring + to attract attention by being seen in the streets with a lady on the + withers of his horse. + </p> + <p> + With thought for her comfort, Monsieur de Garnache had divested himself of + his heavy horseman’s cloak and insisted upon her assuming it, so setting + it about her that her head was covered as by a wimple. Thus was she + protected not only from the rain, but from the gaze of the inquisitive. + </p> + <p> + They made their way in the drizzle, through the greasy, slippery streets + ashine with the lights that fell from door and window, Rabecque following + closely with the horses. Garnache made straight for his inn—the + Auberge du Veau qui Tete—which enjoyed the advantage of facing the + Palais Seneschal. + </p> + <p> + The ostler took charge of the nags, and the landlord conducted them to a + room above-stairs, which he placed at mademoiselle’s disposal. That done, + Garnache left Rabecque on guard, and proceeded to make the necessary + arrangements for the journey that lay before them. He began by what he + conceived to be the more urgent measure, and stepping across to the Palais + Seneschal, he demanded to see Monsieur de Tressan at once. + </p> + <p> + Ushered into the Lord Seneschal’s presence, he startled that obese + gentleman by the announcement that he had returned from Condillac with + Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye, and that he would require an escort to + accompany them to Paris. + </p> + <p> + “For I am by no means minded to be exposed to such measures as the tigress + of Condillac and her cub may take to recover their victim,” he explained + with a grim smile. + </p> + <p> + The Seneschal combed his beard and screwed up his pale eyes until they + vanished in the cushions of his cheeks. He was lost in amazement. He could + only imagine that the Queen’s emissary had been duped more successfully + this time. + </p> + <p> + “I am to gather, then,” said he, dissembling what was passing through his + mind, “that you delivered the lady by force or strategy.” + </p> + <p> + “By both, monsieur,” was the short answer. + </p> + <p> + Tressan continued to comb his beard, and pondered the situation. If things + were so, indeed, they could not have fallen out more to his taste. He had + had no hand in it, one way or the other. He had run with the hare and + hunted with the hounds, and neither party could charge him with any lack + of loyalty. His admiration and respect for Monsieur de Garnache grew + enormously. When the rash Parisian had left him that afternoon for the + purpose of carrying his message himself to Condillac, Tressan had + entertained little hope of ever again seeing him alive. Yet there he + stood, as calm and composed as ever, announcing that singlehanded he had + carried out what another might well have hesitated to attempt with a + regiment at his heels. + </p> + <p> + Tressan’s curiosity urged him to beg for the details of this marvel, and + Garnache entertained him with a brief recital of what had taken place, + whereat, realizing that Garnache had indeed outwitted them, the + Seneschal’s wonder increased. + </p> + <p> + “But we are not out of the quagmire yet,” cried Garnache; “and that is why + I want an escort.” + </p> + <p> + Tressan became uneasy. “How many men shall you require?” he asked, + thinking that the Parisian would demand at least the half of a company. + </p> + <p> + “A half-dozen and a sergeant to command them.” + </p> + <p> + Tressan’s uneasiness was dissipated, and he found himself despising + Garnache more for his rashness in being content with so small a number + than he respected him for the boldness and courage he had so lately + displayed. It was not for him to suggest that the force might prove + insufficient; rather was it for him to be thankful that Garnache had not + asked for more. An escort Tressan dared not refuse him, and yet refuse it + him he must have done—or broken with the Condillacs—had he + asked for a greater number. But six men! Pooh! they would be of little + account. So he very readily consented, inquiring how soon Garnache would + require them. + </p> + <p> + “At once,” was the Parisian’s answer. “I leave Grenoble to-night. I hope + to set out in an hour’s time. Meanwhile I’ll have the troopers form a + guard of honour. I am lodged over the way.” + </p> + <p> + Tressan, but too glad to be quit of him, rose there and then to give the + necessary orders, and within ten minutes Garnache was back at the Sucking + Calf with six troopers and a sergeant, who had left their horses in the + Seneschal’s stables until the time for setting out. Meanwhile Garnache + placed them on duty in the common-room of the inn. + </p> + <p> + He called for refreshment for them, and bade them remain there at the + orders of his man Rabecque. His reason for this step was that it became + necessary that he should absent himself for a while to find a carriage + suitable for the journey; for as the Sucking Calf was not a post-house he + must seek one elsewhere—at the Auberge de France, in fact, which was + situate on the eastern side of the town by the Porte de Savoie—and + he was not minded to leave the person of Valerie unguarded during his + absence. The half-dozen troopers he considered ample, as indeed they were. + </p> + <p> + On this errand he departed, wrapped tightly in his cloak, walking briskly + through the now heavier rain. + </p> + <p> + But at the Auberge de France a disappointment awaited him. The host had no + horses and no carriage, nor would he have until the following morning. He + was sorrow-stricken that the circumstance should discompose Monsieur de + Garnache; he was elaborate in his explanations of how it happened that he + could place no vehicle at Monsieur de Garnache’s disposal—so + elaborate that it is surprising Monsieur de Garnache’s suspicions should + not have been aroused. For the truth of the matter was that the folk of + Condillac had been at the Auberge de France before him—as they had + been elsewhere in the town wherever a conveyance might be procurable—and + by promises of reward for obedience and threats of punishment for + disobedience, they had contrived that Garnache should hear this same story + on every hand. His mistake had lain in his eagerness to obtain a guard + from the Seneschal. Had he begun by making sure of a conveyance, + anticipating, as he should have done, this move on the part of the + Condillacs—a move which he did not even now suspect—it is + possible that he might have been spared much of the trouble that was to + follow. + </p> + <p> + An hour or so later, after having vainly ransacked the town for the thing + he needed, he returned wet and annoyed to the Veau qui Tote. In a corner + of the spacious common-room—a corner by the door leading to the + interior of the inn—he saw the six troopers at table, waxing a + trifle noisy over cards. Their sergeant sat a little apart, in + conversation with the landlord’s wife, eyes upturned adoringly, oblivious + of the increasing scowl that gathered about her watchful husband’s brow. + </p> + <p> + At another table sat four gentlemen—seemingly travellers, by their + air and garb—in a conversation that was hushed at Garnache’s + entrance. But he paid no heed to them as he stalked with ringing step + across the rushstrewn floor, nor observed how covertly and watchfully + their glances followed him as returning, in passing the sergeant’s prompt + salute he vanished through the doorway leading to the stairs. + </p> + <p> + He reappeared again a moment later, to call the host, and give him orders + for the preparing of his own and Rabecque’s supper. + </p> + <p> + On the landing above he found Rabecque awaiting him. + </p> + <p> + “Is all well?” he asked, and received from his lackey a reassuring answer. + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle welcomed him gladly. His long absence, it appeared, had been + giving her concern. He told her on what errand he had been, and alarm + overspread her face upon hearing its result. + </p> + <p> + “But, monsieur,” she cried, “you are not proposing that I should remain a + night in Grenoble.” + </p> + <p> + “What alternative have we?” he asked, and his brows met, impatient at what + he accounted no more than feminine whimsey. + </p> + <p> + “It is not safe,” she exclaimed, her fears increasing. “You do not know + how powerful are the Condillacs.” + </p> + <p> + He strode to the fire, and the logs hissed under the pressure of his wet + boot. He set his back to the blaze, and smiled down upon her. + </p> + <p> + “Nor do you know how powerful are we,” he answered easily. “I have below + six troopers and a sergeant of the Seneschal’s regiment; with myself and + Rabecque we are nine men in all. That should be a sufficient guard, + mademoiselle. Nor do I think that with all their power the Condillacs will + venture here to claim you at the sword point.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet,” she answered, for all that she was plainly reassured, at least + in part, “I would rather you had got me a horse, that we might have ridden + to Saint Marcellin, where no doubt a carriage might be obtained.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not see the need to put you to so much discomfort,” he returned. + “It is raining heavily.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what of that?” she flung back impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “Besides,” he added, “it seems there are no horses at the post-house. A + benighted place this Dauphiny of yours, mademoiselle.” + </p> + <p> + But she never heeded the gibe at her native province. “No horses?” she + echoed, and her hazel eyes looked up sharply, the alarm returning to her + face. She rose, and approached him. “Surely that is impossible.” + </p> + <p> + “I assure you that it is as I say—neither at the post-house nor at + any of the inns I visited could I find me a spare horse.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” she cried, “I see the hand of Condillac in this.” + </p> + <p> + “As how?” he inquired, and his tone again was quickened by impatience. + </p> + <p> + “They have anticipated you. They seek to keep you here—to keep us in + Grenoble.” + </p> + <p> + “But to what end?” he asked, his impatience growing. “The Auberge de + France has promised me a carriage in the morning. What shall it avail them + at Condillac to keep us here to-night?” + </p> + <p> + “They may have some project. Oh, monsieur! I am full of fears.” + </p> + <p> + “Dismiss them,” he answered lightly; and to reassure her he added, + smiling: “Rest assured we shall keep good watch over you, Rabecque and I + and the troopers. A guard shall remain in the passage throughout the + night. Rabecque and I will take turn about at sentry-go. Will that give + you peace?” + </p> + <p> + “You are very good,” she said, her voice quivering with feeling and real + gratitude, and as he was departing she called after him. “You will be + careful of yourself,” she said. + </p> + <p> + He paused under the lintel, and turned, surprised. “It is a habit of + mine,” said he, with a glint of humour in his eye. + </p> + <p> + But there was no answering smile from her. Her face was all anxiety. + </p> + <p> + “Beware of pitfalls,” she bade him. “Go warily; they are cruelly cunning, + those folk of Condillac. And if evil should befall you...” + </p> + <p> + “There would still remain Rabecque and the troopers,” he concluded. + </p> + <p> + She shrugged her shoulders. “I implore you to be careful,” she insisted. + </p> + <p> + “You may depend upon me,” he said, and closed the door. + </p> + <p> + Outside he called Rabecque, and together they went below. But mindful of + her fears, he dispatched one of the troopers to stand sentry outside her + door whilst he and his lackey supped. That done, he called the host, and + set himself at table, Rabecque at his elbow in attendance to hand him the + dishes and pour his wine. + </p> + <p> + Across the low-ceilinged room the four travellers still sat in talk, and + as Garnache seated himself, one of them shouted for the host and asked in + an impatient tone to know if his supper was soon to come. + </p> + <p> + “In a moment, sir,” answered the landlord respectfully, and he turned + again to the Parisian. He went out to bring the latter’s meal, and whilst + he was gone Rabecque heard from his master the reason of their remaining + that night in Grenoble. The inference drawn by the astute lackey—and + freely expressed by him—from the lack of horses or carriages in + Grenoble that night, coincided oddly with Valerie’s. He too gave it as his + opinion that his master had been forestalled by the Dowager’s people, and + without presuming to advise Garnache to go warily—a piece of advice + that Garnache would have resented, to the extent perhaps of boxing the + fellow’s ears—he determined, there and then, to keep a close watch + upon his master, and under no circumstances, if possible, permit him to + leave the Sucking Calf that night. + </p> + <p> + The host returned, bearing a platter on which there steamed a ragout that + gave out an appetizing odour; his wife followed with other dishes and a + bottle of Armagnac under her arm. Rabecque busied himself at once, and his + hungry master disposed himself to satisfy the healthiest appetite in + France, when suddenly a shadow fell across the table. A man had come to + stand beside it, his body screening the light of one of the lamps that + hung from a rafter of the ceiling. + </p> + <p> + “At last!” he exclaimed, and his voice was harsh with ill-humour. + </p> + <p> + Garnache looked up, pausing in the very act of helping himself to that + ragout. Rabecque looked up from behind his master, and his lips tightened. + The host looked up from the act of drawing the cork of the flagon he had + taken from his wife, and his eyes grew big as in his mind he prepared a + judicious blend of apology and remonstrance wherewith to soothe this very + impatient gentleman. But before he could speak, Garnache’s voice cut + sharply into the silence. An interruption at such a moment vexed him + sorely. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur says?” quoth he. + </p> + <p> + “To you, sir—nothing,” answered the fellow impudently, and looked + him straight between the eyes. + </p> + <p> + With a flush mounting to his cheeks, and his brows drawn together in + perplexity, Garnache surveyed him. He was that same traveller who had + lately clamoured to know when he might sup, a man of rather more than + middle height, lithe and active of frame, yet with a breadth of shoulder + and depth of chest that argued strength and endurance as well. He had + fair, wavy hair, which he wore rather longer than was the mode, brown + eyes, and a face which, without being handsome, was yet more than + ordinarily engaging by virtue of its strength and frank ingenuousness. His + dress was his worst feature. It was flamboyant and showy; cheap, and + tawdrily pretentious. Yet he bore himself with the easy dignity of a man + who counts more inferiors than superiors. + </p> + <p> + Despite the arrogant manner of his address, Garnache felt prepossessed in + the newcomer’s favour. But before he could answer him, the host was + speaking. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur mistakes...” he began. + </p> + <p> + “Mistakes?” thundered the other in an accent slightly foreign. “It is you + who mistake if you propose to tell me that this is not my supper. Am I to + wait all night, while every jackanapes who follows me into your pigsty is + to be served before me?” + </p> + <p> + “Jackanapes?” said Garnache thoughtfully, and looked the man in the face + again. Behind the stranger pressed his three companions now, whilst the + troopers across the room forgot their card-play to watch the altercation + that seemed to impend. + </p> + <p> + The foreigner—for such, indeed, his French proclaimed him—turned + half-contemptuously to the host, ignoring Garnache with an air that was + studiously offensive. + </p> + <p> + “Jackanapes?” murmured Garnache again, and he, too, turned to the host. + “Tell me, Monsieur l’Hote,” said he, “where do the jackanapes bury their + dead in Grenoble? I may need the information.” + </p> + <p> + Before the distressed landlord could utter a word, the stranger had + wheeled about again to face Garnache. “What shall that mean?” he asked + sharply, a great fierceness in his glance. + </p> + <p> + “That Grenoble may be witnessing the funeral of a foreign bully by + to-morrow, Monsieur l’Etranger,” said Garnache, showing his teeth in a + pleasant smile. He became conscious in that moment of a pressure on his + shoulder blade, but paid no heed to it, intent on watching the other’s + countenance. It expressed surprise a moment, then grew dark with anger. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean that for me, sir?” he growled. + </p> + <p> + Garnache spread his hands. “If monsieur feels that the cap fits him, I + shall not stay him in the act of donning it.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger set one hand upon the table, and leaned forward towards + Garnache. “May I ask monsieur to be a little more definite?” he begged. + </p> + <p> + Garnache sat back in his chair and surveyed the man, smiling. Quick though + his temper usually might be, it was checked at present by amusement. He + had seen in his time many quarrels spring from the flimsiest of motives, + but surely never had he seen one quite so self-begotten. It was almost as + if the fellow had come there of set purpose to pick it with him. + </p> + <p> + A suspicion flashed across his mind. He remembered the warning + mademoiselle had given him. And he wondered. Was this a trick to lure him + to some guet-apens? He surveyed his man more closely; but the inspection + lent no colour to his suspicions. The stranger looked so frank and honest; + then again his accent was foreign. It might very well be that he was some + Savoyard lordling unused to being kept waiting, and that his hunger made + him irritable and impatient. If that were so, assuredly the fellow + deserved a lesson that should show him he was now in France, where + different manners obtained to those that he displayed; yet, lest he should + be something else, Garnache determined to pursue a policy of conciliation. + It would be a madness to embroil himself just then, whether this fellow + were of Condillac or not. + </p> + <p> + “I have asked you, monsieur,” the stranger insisted, “to be a little more + definite.” + </p> + <p> + Garnache’s smile broadened and grew more friendly. “Frankly,” said he, “I + experience difficulty. My remark was vague. I meant it so to be.” + </p> + <p> + “But it offended me, monsieur,” the other answered sharply. + </p> + <p> + The Parisian raised his eyebrows, and pursed his lips. “Then I deplore + it,” said he. And now he had to endure the hardest trial of all. The + stranger’s expression changed to one of wondering scorn. + </p> + <p> + “Do I understand that monsieur apologizes?” + </p> + <p> + Garnache felt himself crimsoning; his self-control was slipping from him; + the pressure against his shoulder blade was renewed, and in time he became + aware of it and knew it for a warning from Rabecque. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot conceive, sir, that I have offended,” said he at length, keeping + a tight hand upon his every instinct—which was to knock this + impertinent stranger down. “But if I have, I beg that you will believe + that I have done so unwittingly. I had no such intent.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger removed his hand from the table and drew himself erect. + </p> + <p> + “So much for that, then,” said he, provokingly contemptuous. “If you will + be as amiable in the matter of the supper I shall be glad to terminate an + acquaintance which I can see no honour to myself in pursuing.” + </p> + <p> + This, Garnache felt, was more than he could endure. A spasm of passion + crossed his face, another instant and despite Rabecque’s frantic proddings + he might have flung the ragout in the gentleman’s face; when suddenly came + the landlord unexpectedly to the rescue. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, here comes your supper now,” he announced, as his wife + reentered from the kitchen with a laden tray. + </p> + <p> + For a moment the stranger seemed out of countenance. Then he looked with + cold insolence from the dishes set before Garnache to those which were + being set for himself. + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said he, and his tone was an insult unsurpassable, “perhaps it is to + be preferred. This ragout grows cold, I think.” + </p> + <p> + He sniffed, and turning on his heel, without word or sign of salutation to + Garnache, he passed to the next table, and sat down with his companions. + The Parisian’s eyes followed him, and they blazed with suppressed wrath. + Never in all his life had he exercised such self-control as he was + exercising then—which was the reason why he had failed to achieve + greatness—and he was exercising it for the sake of that child + above-stairs, and because he kept ever-present in his mind the thought + that she must come to grievous harm if ill befell himself. But he + controlled his passion at the cost of his appetite. He could not eat, so + enraged was he. And so he pushed the platter from him, and rose. + </p> + <p> + He turned to Rabecque, and the sight of his face sent the lackey back a + pace or two in very fear. He waved his hand to the table. + </p> + <p> + “Sup, Rabecque,” said he. “Then come to me above.” + </p> + <p> + And followed, as before, by the eyes of the stranger and his companions, + Garnache strode out of the room, and mounting the stairs went to find + solace in talk with Valerie. But however impossible he might find it to + digest the affront he had swallowed, no word of the matter did he utter to + the girl, lest it should cause her fears to reawaken. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. THE OPENING OF THE TRAP + </h2> + <p> + Garnache spent a sleepless night at Grenoble, on guard throughout the + greater part of it since nothing short of that would appease the fears of + Valerie. Yet it passed without any bellicose manifestation on the part of + the Condillacs such as Valerie feared and such as Garnache was satisfied + would not—could not, indeed—take place. + </p> + <p> + Betimes next morning he dispatched Rabecque to the Auberge de France for + the promised carriage, and broke his fast in the common-room what time he + awaited his man’s return. The chamber was again occupied by the stranger + of yesternight, who sat apart, however, and seemed no longer disposed to + interfere with the Parisian. Garnache wondered idly, might this be due to + the circumstance that that same stranger was supported now by one single + companion, and was therefore less valorous than when he had been in the + company of three. + </p> + <p> + At another table were two gentlemen, sprung he knew not whence, quiet in + dress and orderly in manner, to whom he paid little heed until one of them + a slender, swarthy, hawk-faced fellow—looking up suddenly, started + slightly at sight of the Parisian and addressed him instantly by name. + Garnache paused in the act of rising from table, half-turned, and sharply + scrutinized the swarthy gentleman, but failed to recognize him. He + advanced towards him. + </p> + <p> + “I have the honour to be known to you, monsieur?” he half-stated, + half-inquired. + </p> + <p> + “Parbleu, Monsieur de Garnache!” exclaimed the other with a ready smile, + the more winning since it lighted up a face that at rest was very sombre. + “Lives there a Parisian to whom you are not known? I have seen you often + at the Hotel de Bourgogne.” + </p> + <p> + Garnache acknowledged the courtesy by a slight inclination of the head. + </p> + <p> + “And once,” continued the other, “I had the honour to be presented to you + by Monsieur le Duc himself. My name is Gaubert—Fabre Gaubert.” And + as he introduced himself he rose out of respect for Garnache, who had + remained standing. Garnache knew him not at all, yet never doubted that + his tale was true; the fellow had a very courtly, winning air; moreover, + Garnache was beginning to feel lonely in the wilds of Dauphiny, so that it + rejoiced him to come into the company of one whom he might regard as + something of a fellow-creature. He held out his hand. + </p> + <p> + “I am honoured in that you should have borne me in your memory, monsieur,” + said he. He was about to add that he would be overjoyed if it should + happen that Monsieur Gaubert was travelling to Paris, since he might give + himself the pleasure of his company on that tedious journey; but he + checked himself betimes. He had no reason to suspect this gentleman; and + yet, all things considered, he bethought him suddenly that he would do + well to observe the greatest circumspection. So with a pleasant but + meaningless civility touching Monsieur Gaubert’s presence in those parts, + Garnache passed on and gained the door. He paused in the porch, above + which the rebus-like sign of the Sucking Calf creaked and grated in each + gust of the chill wind that was blowing from the Alps. The rain had + ceased, but the sky was dark and heavy with great banks of scudding + clouds. In the street the men of his escort sat their horses, having + mounted at his bidding in readiness for the journey. A word or two he + exchanged with the sergeant, and then with a great rumble the clumsy + carriage from the Auberge de France heralded its approach. It rolled up + the street, a vast machine of wood and leather, drawn by three horses, and + drew up at the door of the inn. Out sprang Rabecque, to be immediately + sent by his master to summon mademoiselle. They would set out upon the + instant. + </p> + <p> + Rabecque turned to obey; but in that same moment he was thrust rudely + aside by a man with the air of a servant, who issued from he inn carrying + a valise; after him, following close upon his heels, with head held high + and eyes that looked straight before him and took no heed of Garnache, + came the foreigner of yesternight. + </p> + <p> + Rabecque, his shoulders touching the timbers of the porch, against which + he had been thrust, remained at gaze, following with resentful eye the + fellow who had so rudely used him. Garnache, on the other side, watched + with some wonder the advent of the ingenuous-looking stranger, but as yet + with no suspicion of his intent. + </p> + <p> + Not until the servant had thrown open the door of the coach and deposited + within the valise he carried, did Garnache stir. Not, indeed, until the + foreigner’s foot was on the step preparatory to mounting did Garnache + speak. + </p> + <p> + “Hi! monsieur,” he called to him, “what is your pleasure with my + carriage?” + </p> + <p> + The stranger turned, and stared at Garnache with a look of wonder that + artfully changed to one of disdainful recognition. + </p> + <p> + “Ah?” said he, and his eyebrows went up. “The apologetic gentleman! You + said?” + </p> + <p> + Garnache approached him, followed a step not only by Rabecque, but also by + Monsieur Gaubert, who had sauntered out a second earlier. Behind them, in + the porch, lounged now the foreigner’s friend, and behind him again was to + be seen the great face and staring, somewhat startled eyes of the + landlord. + </p> + <p> + “I asked you, monsieur,” said Garnache, already at grips with that quick + temper of his, “what might be your pleasure with my coach?” + </p> + <p> + “With your coach?” echoed the other, his superciliousness waxing more and + more offensive. “Voyons! on! my apologetic friend, do all things in + Grenoble belong to you?” He turned to the post-boy, who looked on + stolidly. “You are from the Auberge de France, are you not?” quoth he. + </p> + <p> + “I am, monsieur,” replied the man. “This carriage was ordered last night + by a gentleman lodging at the Veau qui Tete?” + </p> + <p> + “Perfectly,” replied the stranger, in a tone of finality. “It was ordered + by me.” And he was about to turn away, when Garnache approached him by yet + another step. + </p> + <p> + “I will ask you to observe, monsieur,” said he and for all that his tone + and words were civil, that they were forcedly so was obvious from their + quiver—“I will ask you to observe that the carriage was fetched by + my own man there, who rode hither in it.” + </p> + <p> + The stranger looked him up and down with a curling lip. + </p> + <p> + “It seems, sir,” said he, with a broad sneer, “that you are one of those + impertinent fellows who will be for ever thrusting themselves upon + gentlemen with an eye to such profit as they can make.” He produced a + purse and opened it. “Last night it was my supper you usurped. I suffered + that. Now you would do the same by my coach, and that I shall not suffer. + But there is for your pains, and to be quit of your company.” And he + tossed a silver coin at the Parisian. + </p> + <p> + There was an exclamation of horror in the background, and Monsieur de + Gaubert thrust himself forward. + </p> + <p> + “Sir, sir,” he exclaimed in an agitated voice, “you cannot know whom you + are addressing. This is Monsieur Martin Marie Rigobert de Garnache, + Mestre-de-Champ in the army of the King.” + </p> + <p> + “Of all those names the one I should opine might fit him best, but for his + ugliness, is that of Marie,” answered the foreigner, leering, and with a + contemptuous shrug he turned again to mount the carriage. + </p> + <p> + At that all Garnache’s self-control deserted him, and he did a thing + deplorable. In one of his blind excesses of fury, heedless of the faithful + and watchful Rabecque’s arresting tug at his sleeve, he stepped forward, + and brought a heavy hand down upon the supercilious gentleman’s shoulder. + He took him in the instant in which, with one foot off the ground and the + other on the step of the carriage, the foreigner was easily thrown’ off + his balance; he dragged him violently backward, span him round and dropped + him floundering in the mire of the street-kennel. + </p> + <p> + That done, there fell a pause—a hush that was ominous of things + impending. A little crowd of idlers that had gathered was quickly + augmenting now, and from some there came a cry of “Shame!” at Garnache’s + act of violence. + </p> + <p> + This is no moment at which to pause to moralize. And yet, how often is it + not so? How often does not public sympathy go out to the man who has been + assaulted without thought of the extent to which that man may have + provoked and goaded his assailant. + </p> + <p> + That cry of “Shame!” did no more than increase the anger that was + mastering Garnache. His mission in Grenoble was forgotten; mademoiselle + above-stairs was forgotten; the need for caution and the fear of the + Condillacs were forgotten; everything was thrust from his mind but the + situation of the moment. + </p> + <p> + Amid the hush that followed, the stranger picked himself slowly up, and + sought to wipe the filth from his face and garments. His servant and his + friend flew to his aid, but he waved them aside, and advanced towards + Garnache, eyes blazing, lips sneering. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” said he, in that soft, foreign tone of his, laden now with + fierce mock-politeness, “perhaps monsieur proposes to apologize again.” + </p> + <p> + “Sir, you are mad,” interposed Gaubert. “You are a foreigner, I perceive, + else you would—” + </p> + <p> + But Garnache thrust him quietly aside. “You are very kind, Monsieur + Gaubert,” said he, and his manner now was one of frozen calm—a + manner that betrayed none of the frenzy of seething passion underneath. “I + think, sir,” said he to the stranger, adopting something of that + gentleman’s sardonic manner, “that it will be a more peaceful world + without you. It is that consideration restrains me from apologizing. And + yet, if monsieur will express regret for having sought, and with such lack + of manners, to appropriate my carriage—” + </p> + <p> + “Enough!” broke in the other. “We are wasting time, and I have a long + journey before me. Courthon,” said he, addressing his friend, “will you + bring me the length of this gentleman’s sword? My name, sir,” he added to + Garnache, “is Sanguinetti.” + </p> + <p> + “Faith,” said Garnache, “it sorts well with your bloody spirit.” + </p> + <p> + “And will sort well, no doubt, with his condition presently,” put in + hawk-faced Gaubert. “Monsieur de Garnache, if you have no friend at hand + to act for you, I shall esteem myself honoured.” And he bowed. + </p> + <p> + “Why, thanks, sir. You are most opportunely met. You should be a gentleman + since you frequent the Hotel de Bourgogne. My thanks.” + </p> + <p> + Gaubert went aside to confer with Monsieur Courthon. Sanguinetti stood + apart, his manner haughty and impressive, his eye roaming scornfully + through the ranks of what had by now become a crowd. Windows were opening + in the street, and heads appearing, and across the way Garnache might have + beheld the flabby face of Monsieur de Tressan among the spectators of that + little scene. + </p> + <p> + Rabecque drew near his master. + </p> + <p> + “Have a care, monsieur,” he implored him. “If this should be a trap.” + </p> + <p> + Garnache started. The remark sobered him, and brought to his mind his own + suspicions of yesternight, which his present anger had for the moment + lulled. Still, he conceived that he had gone too far to extricate himself. + But he could at least see to it that he was not drawn away from the place + that sheltered mademoiselle. And so he stepped forward, joining Courthon + and Gaubert, to insist that the combat should take place in the inn—either + in the common room or in the yard. But the landlord, overhearing this, + protested loudly that he could not consent to it. He had his house to + think of. He swore that they should not fight on his premises, and + implored them in the same breath not to attempt it. + </p> + <p> + At that Garnache, now thoroughly on his guard, was for putting off the + encounter. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Courthon,” said he—and he felt a flush of shame mounting + to his brow, and realized that it may need more courage to avoid an + encounter than to engage in one—“there is something that in the heat + of passion I forgot; something that renders it difficult for me to meet + your friend at present.” + </p> + <p> + Courthon looked at him as he might look at an impertinent lackey. + </p> + <p> + “And what may that be?” he inquired, mightily contemptuous. There was a + snigger from some in the crowd that pressed about them, and even Monsieur + Gaubert looked askance. + </p> + <p> + “Surely, sir,” he began, “if I did not know you for Monsieur de Garnache—” + </p> + <p> + But Garnache did not let him finish. + </p> + <p> + “Give me air,” he cried, and cuffed out to right and left of him at the + grinning spectators, who fell back and grinned less broadly. “My reason, + Monsieur de Courthon,” said he, “is that I do not belong to my self at + present. I am in Grenoble on business of the State, as the emissary of the + Queen-Regent, and so it would hardly become me to engage in private + quarrels.” + </p> + <p> + Courthon raised his brows. + </p> + <p> + “You should have thought of that before you rolled Monsieur Sanguinetti in + the mud,” he answered coldly. + </p> + <p> + “I will tender him my apologies for that,” Garnache promised, swallowing + hard, “and if he still insists upon a meeting he shall have it in, say, a + month’s time.” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot permit—” began Courthon, very fiercely. + </p> + <p> + “You will be so good as to inform your friend of what I have said,” + Garnache insisted, interrupting him. + </p> + <p> + Cowed, Courthon shrugged and went apart to confer with his friend. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” came Sanguinetti’s soft voice, yet loud enough to be heard by all + present. “He shall have a caning then for his impertinence.” And he called + loudly to the post-boy for his whip. But at that insult Garnache’s brain + seemed to take fire, and his cautious resolutions were reduced to ashes by + the conflagration. He stepped forward, and, virulent of tone and terrific + of mien, he announced that since Monsieur Sanguinetti took that tone with + him, he would cut his throat for him at once and wherever they should + please. + </p> + <p> + At last it was arranged that they should proceed there and then to the + Champs aux Capuchins, a half-mile away behind the Franciscan convent. + </p> + <p> + Accordingly they set out, Sanguinetti and Courthon going first, and + Garnache following with Gaubert; the rear being brought up by a regiment + of rabble, idlers and citizens, that must have represented a very + considerable proportion of the population of Grenoble. This audience + heartened Garnache, to whom some measure of reflection had again returned. + Before such numbers it was unthinkable that these gentlemen—assuming + them to be acting on behalf of Condillac—should dare to attempt foul + measures with him. For the rest he had taken the precaution of leaving + Rabecque at the Sucking Calf, and he had given the sergeant strict + injunctions that he was not to allow any of his men to leave their posts + during his absence, and that the troopers were to hold themselves entirely + at the orders of Rabecque. Comparatively easy therefore in his mind, and + but little exercised by any thought of the coming encounter, Garnache + walked briskly along. + </p> + <p> + They came at last to the Champs aux Capuchins—a pleasant stretch of + verdure covering perhaps half an acre and set about by a belt of + beech-trees. + </p> + <p> + The crowd disposed itself on the fringe of the sward, and the duellists + went forward, and set about the preparations. Principals and seconds threw + off cloak and doublet, and Sanguinetti, Courthon, and Gaubert removed + their heavy boots, whilst Garnache did no more than detach the spurs from + his. + </p> + <p> + Sanguinetti, observing this, drew the attention of the others to it, and + an altercation arose. It was Gaubert who came to beg Garnache that he + should follow the example they had set him in that respect. But Garnache + shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “The turf is sodden.” + </p> + <p> + “But it is precisely on that account, sir,” protested Gaubert very + earnestly. “In your boots you will be unable to stand firm; you will run + the risk of slipping every time that you break ground.” + </p> + <p> + “I venture to think, sir, that that is my affair,” said Garnache stiffly. + </p> + <p> + “But it is not,” the other cried. “If you fight in your boots, we must all + do the same, and for myself—well, I have not come here to commit + suicide.” + </p> + <p> + “Look you, Monsieur Gaubert,” said Garnache quietly, “your opponent will + be Monsieur Courthon, and since he is in his stockinged feet, there is no + reason why you yourself should not remain so too. As for me, I retain my + boots, and Monsieur Sanguinetti may have all the advantage that may give + him. Since I am content, in Heaven’s name let the fight go forward. I am + in haste.” + </p> + <p> + Gaubert bowed in submission; but Sanguinetti, who had overheard, turned + with an oath. + </p> + <p> + “By God, no!” said he. “I need no such advantage, sir. Courthon, be so + good as to help me on with my boots again.” And there was a fresh delay + whilst he resumed them. + </p> + <p> + At last, however, the four men came together, and proceeded to the + measurement of swords. It was found that Sanguinetti’s was two inches + longer than any of the other three. + </p> + <p> + “It is the usual length in Italy,” said Sanguinetti with a shrug. + </p> + <p> + “If monsieur had realized that he was no longer in Italy, we might perhaps + have been spared this very foolish business,” answered Garnache testily. + </p> + <p> + “But what are we to do?” cried the perplexed Gaubert. + </p> + <p> + “Fight,” said Garnache impatiently. “Is there never to be an end to these + preliminaries?” + </p> + <p> + “But I cannot permit you to oppose yourself to a sword two inches longer + than your own,” cried Gaubert, almost in a temper. + </p> + <p> + “Why not, if I am satisfied?” asked Garnache. “Mine is the longer reach; + thus matters will stand equal.” + </p> + <p> + “Equal?” roared Gaubert. “Your longer reach is an advantage that you had + from God, his longer sword is one he had from an armourer. Is that + equality?” + </p> + <p> + “He may have my sword, and I’ll take his,” cut in the Italian, also + showing impatience. “I too am in haste.” + </p> + <p> + “In haste to die, then,” snapped Gaubert. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, this is not seemly,” Courthon reproved him. + </p> + <p> + “You shall teach me manners when we engage,” snapped the hawk-faced + gentleman. + </p> + <p> + “Sirs, sirs,” Garnache implored them, “are we to waste the day in words? + Monsieur Gaubert, there are several gentlemen yonder wearing swords; I + make no doubt that you will find one whose blade is of the same length as + your own, sufficiently obliging to lend it to Monsieur Sanguinetti.” + </p> + <p> + “That is an office that my friend can do for me,” interposed Sanguinetti, + and thereupon Courthon departed, to return presently with a borrowed + weapon of the proper length. + </p> + <p> + At last it seemed that they might proceed with the business upon which + they were come; but Garnache was wrong in so supposing. A discussion now + arose between Gaubert and Courthon as to the choice of spot. The turf was + drenched and slippery, and for all that they moved from place to place + testing the ground, their principals following, nowhere could they find + the conditions sufficiently improved to decide upon engaging. To Garnache + the utility of this was apparent from the first. If these gentlemen had + thought to avoid slippery ground, they should have elected to appoint the + meeting elsewhere. But having chosen the Champs aux Capuchins, it was idle + to expect that one stretch of turf would prove firmer than another. + </p> + <p> + Wearied at last by this delay, he gave expression to his thoughts. + </p> + <p> + “You are quite right, monsieur,” said Courthon. “But your second is + over-fastidious. It would simplify matters so much if you would remove + your boots.” + </p> + <p> + “Look you, sirs,” said Garnache, taking a firm stand, “I will engage in my + boots and on this very spot or not at all. I have told you that I am in + haste. As for the slipperiness of the ground, my opponent will run no + greater risks than I. I am not the only impatient one. The spectators are + beginning to jeer at us. We shall have every scullion in Grenoble + presently saying that we are afraid of one another. Besides which, sirs, I + think I am taking cold.” + </p> + <p> + “I am quite of monsieur’s mind, myself,” drawled Sanguinetti. + </p> + <p> + “You hear, sir,” exclaimed Courthon, turning to Gaubert. “You can scarce + persist in finding objections now.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, since all are satisfied, so be it,” said Gaubert, with a shrug. “I + sought to do the best for my principal. As it is, I wash my hands of all + responsibility, and by all means let us engage, sirs.” + </p> + <p> + They disposed themselves accordingly, Gaubert engaging Courthon, on + Garnache’s right hand, and Garnache himself falling on guard to receive + the attack of Sanguinetti. The jeers and murmurs that had been rising from + the ever-growing crowd that swarmed about the outskirts of the place fell + silent as the clatter of meeting swords rang out at last. And then, scarce + were they engaged when a voice arose, calling angrily: + </p> + <p> + “Hold, Sanguinetti! Wait!” + </p> + <p> + A big, broad-shouldered man, in a suit of homespun and a featherless hat, + thrust his way rudely trough the crowd and broke into the space within the + belt of trees. The combatants had fallen apart at this commanding cry, and + the newcomer now dashed forward, flushed and out of breath as if with + running. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Vertudieu</i>! Sanguinetti,” he swore, and his manner was half-angry, + half-bantering; “do you call this friendship?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Francois” returned the foreigner, “you arrive most + inopportunely.” + </p> + <p> + “And is that all the greeting you have for me?” + </p> + <p> + Looking more closely, Garnache thought that he recognized in him one of + Sanguinetti’s companions of yesternight. + </p> + <p> + “But do you not see that I am engaged?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay; and that is my grievance that you should be engaged upon such an + affair, and that I should have no share in it. It is to treat me like a + lackey, and have the right to feel offended. Enfin! It seems I am not come + too late.” + </p> + <p> + Garnache cut in. He saw the drift of the fellow’s intentions, and he was + not minded to submit to fresh delays; already more than half an hour was + sped since he had left the Sucking Calf. He put it plainly to them that + more than enough delay had there been already and he begged the newcomer + to stand aside and allow them to terminate the business on which they were + met. But Monsieur Francois—as Sanguinetti had called him—would + not hear of it. He proved, indeed, a very testy fellow, and he had, + moreover, the support of the others, including even Monsieur Gaubert. + </p> + <p> + “Let me implore you not to spoil sport, sir,” the latter begged Garnache. + “I have a friend at the inn who would never forgive me if I permitted him + to miss such a morning’s diversion as this gentleman is willing to afford + him. Suffer me to go for him.” + </p> + <p> + “Look you, sir,” answered Garnache sharply, “however you may view this + meeting, it is not with me an affair of jest or sport. I am in a quarrel + that has been forced upon me, and—” + </p> + <p> + “Surely not, sir,” Courthon interrupted sweetly. “You forget that you + rolled Monsieur Sanguinetti in the mud. That is hardly to have a quarrel + forced upon you.” + </p> + <p> + Garnache bit his lip to the blood in his vexation. + </p> + <p> + “However the quarrel may have originated,” said Francois, with a great + laugh, “I swear that it goes not forward until I am accommodated, too.” + </p> + <p> + “You had better accede, monsieur,” murmured Gaubert. “I shall not be gone + five minutes, and it will save time in the end.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, very well,” cried poor Garnache in his despair. “Anything to save + time; anything! In God’s name fetch your friend, and I hope you and he and + every man here will get his fill of fighting for once.” + </p> + <p> + Gaubert departed on his errand, and there were fresh murmurs in the mob + until the reason of his going was understood. Five minutes sped; ten + minutes, and yet he returned not. Grouped together were Sanguinetti and + his two friends, in easy, whispered talk. At a little distance from them, + Garnache paced up and down to keep himself warm. He had thrown his cloak + over his shoulders again, and with sword tucked under arm and head thrust + forward, he stamped backwards and forwards, the very picture of + ill-humour. Fifteen minutes passed; twelve o’clock boomed from the Church + of Saint Francois d’Assisi and still Monsieur Gaubert returned not. + Garnache stood still a moment, in angry thought. This must not go on. + There must be an end, and at once. The tastes and inclinations of brawlers + were no concern of his. He had business of State—however unworthy—to + dispatch. He turned, intending to demand of Monsieur Sanguinetti that they + should engage at once and be done, when suddenly a fellow roughly dressed, + with dirty face and a shock head of fair hair, pushed his way through the + throng and advanced towards Monsieur Sanguinetti and his friends. Garnache + checked in his movement to look at the fellow, for he recognized in him + the ostler of the Auberge de France: He spoke at that moment, and Garnache + overheard the words he uttered. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Sanguinetti,” said he, addressing that gentleman, “my master + sends to inquire if you shall want the carriage you ordered for to-day. It + has been standing for an hour at the door of the Auberge de France, + awaiting you, and if you don’t want it—” + </p> + <p> + “Standing where?” asked Sanguinetti harshly. + </p> + <p> + “At the door of the Auberge de France.” + </p> + <p> + “Peste, fool!” cried the foreigner, “why is it there, when I bade it be + sent to the Sucking Calf?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know, sir. I know no more than Monsieur l’Hote told me.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, a plague on Monsieur l’Hote,” swore Sanguinetti, and in that moment + his eye fell upon Garnache, standing there, attentive. At sight of the + Parisian he seemed lost in confusion. He dropped his glance and appeared + on the point of turning aside. Then to the ostler: “I shall want the + carriage, and I shall come for it anon. Carry that message to your + master.” And with that he turned and advanced to Garnache. His whilom + arrogance was all fallen from him; he wore instead an air of extreme + contrition. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, what shall I say to you?” he asked in a voice that was rather + small. “It seems there has been an error. I am deeply grieved, believe me—” + </p> + <p> + “Say no more, I beg,” cried Garnache, immensely relieved that at last + there should be a conclusion to an affair which had threatened to be + interminable. “Let me but express my regrets for the treatment you + received at my hands.” + </p> + <p> + “I accept your expressions, and I admire their generosity,” returned the + other as courteous now as subservient, indeed, in his courtesy—as he + had been erstwhile fierce and intractable. “As for the treatment I + received, I confess that my mistake and my opinionativeness deserved it + me. I deplore to deprive these gentlemen of the entertainment to which + they were looking forward, but unless you should prove of an excessive + amiability I am afraid they must suffer with me the consequences of my + error.” + </p> + <p> + Garnache assured him very briefly, and none too politely that he did not + intend to prove of any excessive amiability. He spoke whilst struggling + into his doublet. He felt that he could cheerfully have caned the fellow + for the inconvenience he had caused him, and yet he realized that he had + other more pressing matters to attend to. He sheathed his sword, took up + his cloak and hat, made those gentlemen the compliments that became the + occasion, in terms a trifle more brief, perhaps, than were usual, and, + still wondering why Monsieur de Gaubert had not yet returned, he stalked + briskly away. Followed by the booings of the disappointed crowd, he set + out for the Sucking Calf at a sharp pace, taking the shorter way behind + the Church and across the graveyard of Saint Francois. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. THE CLOSING OF THE TRAP + </h2> + <p> + Upon leaving the Champs aux Capuchins, hawk-faced Monsieur Gaubert had run + every foot of the way to the Sucking Calf, and he had arrived there within + some five minutes, out of breath and wearing every appearance of distress—of + a distress rather greater than his haste to find his friend should + warrant. + </p> + <p> + At the door of the inn he found the carriage still waiting; the post-boy, + however, was in the porch, leaning in talk with one of the drawers. The + troopers sat their horses in stolid patience, keeping guard, and awaiting, + as they had been bidden, the return of Monsieur de Garnache. Rabecque, + very watchful, lounged in the doorway, betraying in his air none of the + anxiety and impatience with which he looked for his master. + </p> + <p> + At sight of Monsieur Gaubert, running so breathlessly, he started forward, + wondering and uneasy. Across the street, from the Palais Seneschal, came + at that same moment Monsieur de Tressan with rolling gait. He reached the + door of the inn together with Monsieur Gaubert. + </p> + <p> + Full of evil forebodings, Rabecque hailed the runner. + </p> + <p> + “What has happened?” he cried. “Where is Monsieur de Garnache?” + </p> + <p> + Gaubert came to a staggering halt; he groaned and wrung his hands. + </p> + <p> + “Killed!” he panted, rocking himself in a passion of distress. “He has + been butchered! Oh! it was horrible!” + </p> + <p> + Rabecque gripped him by the shoulder, and steadied him with a hand that + hurt. “What do you say?” he gasped, his face white to the lips. + </p> + <p> + Tressan halted, too, and turned upon Gaubert, a look of incredulity in his + fat countenance. “Who has been killed?” he asked. “Not Monsieur de + Garnache?” + </p> + <p> + “Helas! yes,” groaned the other. “It was a snare, a guet-apens to which + they led us. Four of them set upon us in the Champs aux Capuchins. As long + as he lived, I stood beside him. But seeing him fallen, I come for help.” + </p> + <p> + “My God!” sobbed Rabecque, and loosed his grasp of Monsieur Gaubert’s + shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Who did it?” inquired Tressan, and his voice rumbled fiercely. + </p> + <p> + “I know not who they were. The man who picked the quarrel with Monsieur de + Garnache called himself Sanguinetti. There is a riot down there at + present. There was a crowd to witness the combat, and they have fallen to + fighting among themselves. Would to Heaven they had stirred in time to + save that poor gentleman from being murdered.” + </p> + <p> + “A riot, did you say?” cried Tressan, the official seeming to awaken in + him. + </p> + <p> + “Aye,” answered the other indifferently; “they are cutting one another’s + throats.” + </p> + <p> + “But... But... Are you sure that he is dead, monsieur?” inquired Rabecque; + and his tone was one that implored contradiction. + </p> + <p> + Gaubert looked and paused, seeming to give the matter a second’s thought. + “I saw him fall,” said he. “It may be that he was no more than wounded.” + </p> + <p> + “And you left him there?” roared the servant. “You left him there?” + </p> + <p> + Gaubert shrugged his shoulders. “What could I do against four? Besides, + the crowd was interfering already, and it seemed best to me to come for + help. These soldiers, now—” + </p> + <p> + “Aye,” cut in Tressan, and he turned about and called the sergeant. “This + becomes my affair.” And he announced his quality to Monsieur Gaubert. “I + am the Lord Seneschal of Dauphiny.” + </p> + <p> + “I am fortunate in finding you,” returned Gaubert, and bowed. “I could + place the matter in no better hand.” + </p> + <p> + But Tressan, without heeding him, was already ordering the sergeant to + ride hard with his troopers for the Champs aux Capuchins. Rabecque, + however, thrust himself suddenly forward. + </p> + <p> + “Not so, Monsieur le Seneschal,” he interposed in fresh alarm, and mindful + of his charge. “These men are here to guard Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye. + Let them remain. I will go to Monsieur de Garnache.” + </p> + <p> + The Seneschal stared at him with contemptuously pouting underlip. “You + will go?” said he. “And what can you do alone? Who are you?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I am Monsieur de Garnache’s servant.” + </p> + <p> + “A lackey? Ah!” And Tressan turned aside and resumed his orders as if + Rabecque did not exist or had never spoken. “To the Champs aux Capuchins!” + said he. “At the gallop, Pommier! I will send others after you.” + </p> + <p> + The sergeant rose in his stirrups and growled an order. The troopers + wheeled about; another order, and they were off, their cantering hoofs + thundering down the narrow street. + </p> + <p> + Rabecque clutched at the Lord Seneschal’s arm. + </p> + <p> + “Stop them, monsieur!” he almost screamed in his excitement. “Stop them! + There is some snare, some trick in this.” + </p> + <p> + “Stop them?” quoth the Seneschal. “Are you mad?” He shook off Rabecque’s + detaining hand, and left him, to cross the street again with ponderous and + sluggish haste, no doubt to carry out his purpose of sending more troopers + to the scene of the disturbance. + </p> + <p> + Rabecque swore angrily and bitterly, and his vexation had two entirely + separate sources. On the one hand his anxiety and affection for his master + urged him to run at once to his assistance, whilst Tressan’s removal of + the troopers rendered it impossible for him to leave Mademoiselle de La + Vauvraye unguarded—though what he should do with her if Garnache + came not back at all, he did not at this stage pause to consider. On the + other hand, an instinctive and growing suspicion of this Monsieur Gaubert—who + was now entering the inn—inspired him with the opinion that the fat + Seneschal had been duped by a wild tale to send the troopers from the spot + where they might presently become very necessary. + </p> + <p> + Full of fears, anxiety, and mistrust, it was a very dispirited Rabecque + that now slowly followed Monsieur Gaubert into the inn. But as he set his + foot across the threshold of the common-room, a sight met his eyes that + brought him to a momentary standstill, and turned to certainty all his + rising suspicions. He found it tenanted by a half-dozen fellows of very + rude aspect, all armed and bearing an odd resemblance in air and + accoutrements to the braves he had seen at Condillac the day before. As to + how they came there, he could only surmise that they had entered through + the stable-yard, as otherwise he must have observed their approach. They + were grouped now at the other end of the long, low chamber, by the door + leading to the interior of the inn. A few paces distant the landlord + watched them with uneasy eyes. + </p> + <p> + But what dismayed Garnache’s servant most of all was to see the man who + called himself Gaubert standing in talk with a slender, handsome youth, + magnificently arrayed, in whom he recognized Marius de Condillac. + </p> + <p> + Rabecque checked in his advance, and caught in that moment from Marius the + words: “Let her be told that it is Monsieur de Garnache wishes her to + descend.” + </p> + <p> + At that Rabecque stepped towards them, very purposeful of mien. Gaubert + turned at his approach, and smiled. Marius looked up quickly; then made a + sign to the men. Instantly two of them went out by the door they guarded, + and ere it swung back again Rabecque saw that they were making for the + stairs. The remaining four ranged themselves shoulder to shoulder across + the doorway, plainly with intent to bar the way. Gaubert, followed + immediately by Marius, stepped aside and approached the landlord with arms + akimbo and a truculent smile on his pale hawk face. What he and Marius + said, Rabecque could not make out, but he distinctly heard the landlord’s + answer delivered with a respectful bow to Marius: + </p> + <p> + “Bien, Monsieur de Condillac. I would not interfere in your concerns—not + for the world. I will be blind and deaf.” + </p> + <p> + Marius acknowledged the servile protestation by a sneer, and Rabecque, + stirring at last, went forward boldly towards the doorway and its ugly, + human barrier. + </p> + <p> + “By your leave, sirs,” said he—and he made to thrust one of them + aside. + </p> + <p> + “You cannot pass this way, sir,” he was answered, respectfully but firmly. + </p> + <p> + Rabecque stood still, clenching and unclenching his hands and quivering + with anger. It was in that moment that he most fervently cursed Tressan + and his stupid meddling. Had the troopers still been there, they could + have made short work of these tatter-demalions. As it was, and with + Monsieur de Garnache dead, or at least absent, everything seemed at an + end. He might have contended that, his master being slain, it was no great + matter what he did, for in the end the Condillacs must surely have their + way with Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye. But he never paused to think of that + just then. His sense of trust was strong; his duty to his master plain. He + stepped back, and drew his sword. + </p> + <p> + “Let me pass!” he roared. But at the same instant there came the soft + slither of another weapon drawn, and Rabecque was forced to turn to meet + the onslaught of Monsieur Gaubert. + </p> + <p> + “You dirty traitor,” cried the angry lackey, and that was all they left + him breath to say. Strong arms gripped him from behind. The sword was + wrenched from his hand. He was flung down heavily, and pinned prone in a + corner by one of those bullies who knelt on his spine. And then the door + opened again, and poor Rabecque groaned in impotent anguish to behold + Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye pause white-faced and wide-eyed on, the + threshold at sight of Monsieur de Condillac bowing low before her. + </p> + <p> + She stood there a moment between the two ruffians who had been sent to + fetch her, and her eyes travelling round that room discovered Rabecque in + his undignified and half; strangled condition. + </p> + <p> + “Where... Where is Monsieur de Garnache?” she faltered. + </p> + <p> + “He is where all those who cross the will of Condillac must sooner or + later find themselves,” said Marius airily. “He is... disposed of.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean that he is dead?” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “I think it very probable by now,” he smiled. “So you see, mademoiselle, + since the guardian the Queen appointed you has... deserted you, you would + do well to return to my mother’s roof. Let me assure you that we shall + very gladly welcome your return. We blame none but Garnache for your + departure, and he has paid for the brutality of his abduction of you.” + </p> + <p> + She turned in despair from that mocking gentleman, and attempted to make + appeal to the landlord, as though he could help her who could not help + himself. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur l’Hote—” she began, but Marius cut in sharply. + </p> + <p> + “Take her out that way,” he said, and pointed back down the passage by the + stairs. “To the coach. Make haste.” + </p> + <p> + She sought to resist them now; but they dragged her back, and there was a + rush of the others following through the doorway, the rear being brought + up by Gaubert. + </p> + <p> + “Follow presently,” was his parting command to the man who still knelt + upon Rabecque, and with that he vanished too. + </p> + <p> + Their steps died away in the passage; a door banged in the distance. There + followed a silence, disturbed only by the sound of Rabecque’s laboured + breathing; then came a stir outside the door of the inn; some one shouted + an order. There was a movement of hoofs, a creak and crunch of wheels, and + presently the rumble of a heavy carriage being driven rapidly away. But + too well did Rabecque surmise what had taken place. + </p> + <p> + The ruffian released him at last, and, leaping to his feet, was gone + before Rabecque could rise. Once up, however, the lackey darted to the + door. In the distance he saw his late assailant running hard; the coach + had disappeared. He turned, and his smouldering eye fell upon the + landlord. + </p> + <p> + “O pig!” he apostrophized him, snarling at him to vent some of his pent-up + rage. “O cowardly pig.” + </p> + <p> + “What would you?” expostulated the frightened taverner. “They had cut my + throat if I resisted them.” + </p> + <p> + Rabecque poured abuse upon him, until for very lack of words he was forced + to cease, then, with a final bark of contempt, he went to recover his + sword, which had been flung into a corner of the room. He was stooping in + the act, when a quick step rang behind him on the threshold, an angry + voice harsh and metallic pronounced his name: + </p> + <p> + “Rebecque!” + </p> + <p> + The sword clattered from Rabecque’s hand suddenly gone nerveless—nerveless + with sheer joy, all else forgotten in the perception that there, safe and + sound, stood his beloved master. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur!” he cried, and the tears welled up to the rough servant’s eyes. + “Monsieur!” he cried again, and then with the tears streaming down his + cheeks, sallow and wrinkled as parchment, “Oh, thank God!” he blubbered. + “Thank God!” + </p> + <p> + “For what?” asked Garnache, coming forward, a scowl like a thunder-cloud + upon his brow. “Where is the coach, where the troopers? Where is + mademoiselle? Answer me!” + </p> + <p> + He caught Rabecque’s wrist in a grip that threatened to snap it. His face + was livid, his eyes aflame. + </p> + <p> + “They—they—” stammered Rabecque. He had not the courage to + tell the thing that had happened. He feared Garnache would strike him + dead. + </p> + <p> + And then out of his terror he gathered an odd daring. He spoke to Garnache + as never he had dreamt to speak to him, and it may well be that by his + tone and by what he said he saved his life just then. + </p> + <p> + “You fool,” he cried to him. “I told you to be on your guard. I warned you + to go warily. But you would not heed me. You know better than Rabecque. + You would have your way. You must go a-brawling. And they duped you, they + fooled you to the very top of their bent, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + Garnache dropped the servant’s hand and stood back a pace. That + counter-blast of passion and that plain speaking from a quarter so + unexpected served, in part at least, to sober him. He understood the thing + that had happened, the thing that already he suspected must have happened; + but he understood too that he alone was to blame for it—he and his + cursed temper. + </p> + <p> + “Who—who fooled me?” he stammered. + </p> + <p> + “Gaubert—the fellow that calls himself Gaubert. He and his friends. + They fooled you away. Then Gaubert returned with a tale that you had been + killed and that there was a disturbance in the Champs aux Capuchins. + Monsieur de Tressan was here, as ill-luck would have it, and Gaubert + implored him to send soldiers thither to quell the riot. He dispatched the + escort. I sought in vain to stay them. He would not listen to me. The + troopers went, and then Monsieur Gaubert entered the inn, to join Monsieur + de Condillac and six of his braves who were waiting there. They + overpowered me, and carried mademoiselle off in the coach. I did what I + could, but—” + </p> + <p> + “How long have they been gone?” Garnache interrupted him to inquire. + </p> + <p> + “But few minutes before you came.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be, then, the coach that passed me near the Porte de Savoie. We + must go after them, Rabecque. I made a short cut across the graveyard of + Saint Francis, or I must have met the escort. Oh, perdition!” he cried, + smiting his clenched right hand into his open left. “To have so much good + work undone by a moment’s unguardedness.” Then abruptly he turned on his + heels. “I am going to Monsieur de Tressan,” said he over his shoulder, and + went out. + </p> + <p> + As he reached the threshold of the porch, the escort rode up the street, + returned at last. At sight of him the sergeant broke into a cry of + surprise. + </p> + <p> + “At least you are safe, monsieur,” he said. “We had heard that you were + dead, and I feared it must be so, for all that the rest of the story that + was told us was clearly part of a very foolish jest.” + </p> + <p> + “Jest? It was no jest, <i>Vertudieu</i>!” said Garnache grimly. “You had best + return to the Palais Seneschal. I have no further need of an escort,” he + added bitterly. “I shall require a larger force.” + </p> + <p> + And he stepped out into the rain, which had begun again a few minutes + earlier, and was now falling in a steady downpour. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. THE SENESCHAL’S ADVICE + </h2> + <p> + Straight across to the Palais Seneschal went Garnache. And sorely though his + temper might already have been tried that day, tempestuously though it had + been vented, there were fresh trials in store for him, fresh storms for + Tressan. + </p> + <p> + “May I ask, Monsieur le Seneschal,” he demanded arrogantly, “to what end + it was that you permitted yourself to order from its post the escort you + had placed under my command?” + </p> + <p> + “To what end?” returned the Seneschal, between sorrow and indignation. + “Why, to the end that it might succour you if still in time. I had heard + that if not dead already, you were in danger of your life.” + </p> + <p> + The answer was one that disarmed Garnache, in spite of his mistrust of + Tressan, and followed as it now was by the Seneschal’s profuse expressions + of joy at seeing Garnache safe and well, it left him clearly unable to + pursue the subject of his grievance in this particular connection. + Instead, he passed on to entertain Tressan with the recital of the thing + that had been done; and in reciting it his anger revived again, nor did + the outward signs of sympathetic perturbation which the Seneschal thought + it judicious to display do aught to mollify his feelings. + </p> + <p> + “And now, monsieur,” he concluded, “there remains but one course to be + pursued—to return in force, and compel them at the sword-point to + surrender me mademoiselle. That accomplished, I shall arrest the Dowager + and her son and every jackanapes within that castle. Her men can lie in + Grenoble gaol to be dealt with by yourself for supporting her in an + attempt to resist the Queen’s authority. Madame and her son shall go with + me to Paris to answer there for their offence.” + </p> + <p> + The Seneschal looked grave. He thoughtfully combed his beard with his + forefinger, and his little eyes peered a shade fearfully at Garnache + through his horn-rimmed spectacles—Garnache had found him at his + never-failing pretence of work. + </p> + <p> + “Why, yes,” he agreed, speaking slowly, “that way lies your duty.” + </p> + <p> + “I rejoice, monsieur, to hear you say so. For I shall need your aid.” + </p> + <p> + “My aid?” The Seneschal’s face assumed a startled look. + </p> + <p> + “I shall require of you the necessary force to reduce that garrison.” + </p> + <p> + The Seneschal blew out his cheeks almost to bursting point, then wagged + his head and smiled wistfully. + </p> + <p> + “And where,” he asked, “am I to find such a force?” + </p> + <p> + “You have upwards of ten score men in quarters at Grenoble.” + </p> + <p> + “If I had those men—which I have not—what, think you, could + they do against a fortress such as Condillac? Monsieur deludes himself. If + they resist, you’ll need ten times that number to bring them to their + senses. They are well victualled; they have an excellent water-supply. My + friend, they would just draw up the bridge, and laugh at you and your + soldiers from the ramparts.” + </p> + <p> + Garnache looked at him from under lowering brows. But for all his mistrust + of the man—a mistrust most excellently founded—he was forced + to confess that there was wisdom in what Tressan said. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll sit down and besiege them if need be,” he announced. + </p> + <p> + Again the Seneschal wagged his head. “You would have to be prepared to + spend your winter there in that case, and it can be cold in the valley of + Isere. Their garrison is small—some twenty men at most; but it is + sufficient for their defence, and not too many mouths to feed. No, no, + monsieur, if you would win your way by force you must count upon more than + ten score men.” + </p> + <p> + And now a flash of inspiration helped Tressan. It was his aim, as we know, + to run with the hare and hunt with the hounds. Break with Madame de + Condillac his foolish hopeful heart would not permit him. Break with this + man, who personified authority and the King, he dared not. He had sought—and + it had given him much to do—to steer a middle course, serving the + Dowager and appearing not to withstand the Parisian. Now it almost seemed + to him as if he were come to an impasse beyond which he could no longer + pursue that course, but must halt and declare his side. But the notion + that now occurred to him helped him to win through this difficulty. For + Madame de Condillac’s schemes he cared not a jot; whether they came safe + to harbour or suffered shipwreck on the way was all one to him; whether + Valerie de La Vauvraye married Marius de Condillac or the meanest cobbler + in Grenoble was, similarly, a matter that never disturbed his mind. He + would not even be concerned if he, himself, were to help the Dowager’s + schemes to frustration, so long as she were to remain in ignorance of his + defection, so long as outwardly he were to appear faithful to her + interests. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” said he gravely, “the only course that promises you success is + to return to Paris, and, raising sufficient men, with guns and other + modern siege appliances such as we possess not here, come back and batter + down the walls of Condillac.” + </p> + <p> + There the Seneschal spoke good sense. Garnache realized it, so much so + that he almost began to doubt whether he had not done the man an injustice + in believing him allied to the other party. But, however fully he might + perceive the wisdom of the advice, such a step was one that must wound his + pride, must be an acknowledgment that his own resources, upon which the + Queen had relied when she sent him single-handed to deal with this + situation, had proved insufficient. + </p> + <p> + He took a turn in the apartment without answering, tugging at his + mustachios and pondering the situation what time the Seneschal furtively + watched him in the candle-light. At last he came abruptly to a standstill + by the Seneschal’s writing-table, immediately opposite Tressan. His hand + fell to his side, his eyes took on a look of determination. + </p> + <p> + “As a last resource your good advice may guide me, Monsieur le Seneschal,” + said he. “But first I’ll see what can be done with such men as you have + here.” + </p> + <p> + “But I have no men,” answered Tressan, dismayed to see the failure of his + effort. + </p> + <p> + Garnache stared at him in an unbelief that was fast growing to suspicion. + “No men?” he echoed dully. “No men?” + </p> + <p> + “I might muster a score—no more than that.” + </p> + <p> + “But, monsieur, it is within my knowledge that you have at least two + hundred. I saw at least some fifty drawn up in the courtyard below here + yesterday morning.” + </p> + <p> + “I had them, monsieur,” the Seneschal made haste to cry, his hands upheld, + his body leaning forward over his table. “I had them. But, unfortunately, + certain disturbances in the neighbourhood of Montelimar have forced me to + part with them. They were on the point of setting out when you saw them.” + </p> + <p> + Garnache looked at him a moment without speaking. Then, sharply: + </p> + <p> + “They must be recalled, monsieur,” said he. + </p> + <p> + And now the Seneschal took refuge in a fine pretence of indignation. + </p> + <p> + “Recalled?” he cried, and besides indignation there was some horror in his + voice. “Recalled? And for what? That they may assist you in obtaining + charge of a wretched girl who is so headstrong as to wish to marry other + than her guardians have determined. A pretty affair that, as God’s my + life! And for the adjustment of such a family dispute as this, a whole + province is to go to ruin, a conflagration of rebellion is to spread + unquenched? On my soul, sir, I begin to think that this mission of yours + has served to turn your head. You begin to see it out of all proportion to + its size.” + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, it may have turned my head, or it may not; but I shall not be + amazed if in the end it be the means of losing you yours. Tell me now: + What is the disturbance you speak of in Montelimar?” That was a question + all Tressan’s ingenuity could not answer. + </p> + <p> + “What affair is it of yours?” he demanded. “Are you Seneschal of Dauphiny, + or am I? If I tell you that there is a disturbance, let that suffice. In + quelling it I do but attend to my own business. Do you attend to yours—which + seems to be that of meddling in women’s matters.” + </p> + <p> + This was too much. There was such odious truth in it that the iron sank + deep into Garnache’s soul. The very reflection that such a business should + indeed be his, was of itself enough to put him in a rage, without having + it cast in his teeth as Tressan had none too delicately done. + </p> + <p> + He stormed and raged; he waved his arms and thumped the table, and talked + of cutting men to ribbons—among which men no doubt he counted my + Lord the Seneschal of Dauphiny. But from the storm of fierce invective, of + threats and promises with which he filled the air, the Seneschal gathered + with satisfaction the one clear statement that he would take his advice. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll do as you say,” Garnache had ended. “I’ll get me back to Paris as + fast as horse can carry me. When I return woe betide Condillac! And I + shall send my emissaries into the district of Montelimar to inquire into + these disturbances you tell of. Woe betide you if they find the country + quiet. You shall pay a heavy price for having dispatched your soldiers + thither to the end that they might not be here to further the Queen’s + business.” + </p> + <p> + With that he caught up his rain-sodden hat, flung it on his head, and + stalked out of the room, and, so, out of the Palace. + </p> + <p> + He left Grenoble next morning, and it was a very tame and crestfallen + Garnache who quitted the Auberge du Veau qui Tete and rode out of the town + to take the road to Paris. How they would laugh at him at the Luxembourg! + Not even an affair of this kind was he fit to carry through; not even as a + meddler in women’s matters as Tressan had called him—could he + achieve success. Rabecque, reflecting his master’s mood—as becomes a + good lackey—rode silent and gloomy a pace or two in the rear. + </p> + <p> + By noon they had reached Voiron, and here, at a quiet hostelry, they + descended to pause awhile for rest and refreshment. It was a chill, + blustering day, and although the rain held off, the heavens were black + with the promise of more to come. There was a fire burning in the + general-room of the hostelry, and Garnache went to warm him at its + cheerful blaze. Moodily he stood there, one hand on the high mantel shelf, + one foot upon an andiron, his eyes upon the flames. + </p> + <p> + He was disconsolately considering his position; considering how utterly, + how irrevocably he had failed; pondering the gibes he would have to + stomach on his return to Paris, the ridicule it would incumb him to live + down. It had been a fine thing to breathe fire and blood and vengeance to + Tressan yesterday, to tell him of the great deeds he would perform on his + return. It was odds he never would return. They would send another in his + place, if indeed they sent at all. For, after all, before he could reach + Paris and the force required be in Dauphiny, a fortnight must elapse, let + them travel never so quickly. By that time they must be singularly + sluggish at Condillac if they did not so contrive that no aid that came + should come in time for mademoiselle, now that they were warned that the + Queen was stirring in the matter. + </p> + <p> + Oh! he had blundered it all most cursedly. Had he but kept his temper + yesterday at Grenoble; had he but had the wit to thwart their plans, by + preserving an unruffled front to insult, he might have won through and + carried mademoiselle out of their hands. As it was—! he let his arms + fall to his sides in his miserable despair. + </p> + <p> + “Your wine, monsieur,” said Rabecque at his elbow. He turned, and took the + cup of mulled drink from his servant. The beverage warmed him in body; but + it would need a butt of it to thaw the misery from his soul. + </p> + <p> + “Rabecque,” he said with a pathetic grimness, “I think I am the most + cursed blunderer that ever was entrusted with an errand.” + </p> + <p> + The thing so obsessed his mind that he must speak of it, if it be only to + his lackey. Rabecque’s sharp face assumed a chastened look. He sighed most + dutifully. He sought for words of consolation. At last: + </p> + <p> + “At least, monsieur has made them fear him up there at Condillac,” said + he. + </p> + <p> + “Fear me?” laughed Garnache. “Pish! Deride me, you would say.” + </p> + <p> + “Fear you, I repeat, monsieur. Else why are they at such pains to + strengthen the garrison?” + </p> + <p> + “Eh?” he questioned. But his tone was not greatly interested. “Are they + doing that? Are they strengthening it? How know you?” + </p> + <p> + “I had it from the ostler at the Veau qui Tete that a certain Captain + Fortunio—an Italian soldier of fortune who commands the men at + Condillac—was at the Auberge de France last night, offering wine to + whomsoever would drink with him, and paying for it out of Madame la + Marquise’s purse. To such as accepted his hospitality he talked of the + glory of a military career, particularly a free-lance’s; and to those who + showed interest in what he said he offered a pike in his company.” + </p> + <p> + “Enrolled he many, did you learn?” + </p> + <p> + “Not one, monsieur, the ostler told me; and it seems he spent the evening + watching him weave his spider’s web. But the flies were over-wary. They + knew whence he came; they knew the business for which he desired to enrol + them—for a rumour had gone round that Condillac was in rebellion + against the Queen’s commands—and there were none so desperate at the + Auberge de France as to risk their necks by enlisting, no matter what the + wage he offered.” + </p> + <p> + Garnache shrugged his shoulders. “No matter,” said he. “Get me another cup + of wine.” But as Rabecque turned away to obey him there came a sudden + gleam into the eye of Monsieur de Garnache which lightened the depression + of his countenance. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. THE RECRUIT + </h2> + <p> + In the great hall of the Chateau de Condillac sat the Dowager, her son, + and the Lord Seneschal, in conference. + </p> + <p> + It was early in the afternoon of the last Thursday in October, exactly a + week since Monsieur de Garnache all but broken-hearted at the failure of + his mission—had departed from Grenoble. They had dined, and the + table was still strewn with vessels and the fragments of their meal, for + the cloth had not yet been raised. But the three of them had left the + board—the Seneschal with all that reluctance with which he was wont + to part company with the table, no matter how perturbed in spirit he might + be—and they had come to group themselves about the great open + fireplace. + </p> + <p> + A shaft of pale October sunshine entering through the gules of an + escutcheon on the mullioned windows struck a scarlet light into silver and + glass upon the forsaken board. + </p> + <p> + Madame was speaking. She was repeating words that she had uttered at least + twenty times a day during the past week. + </p> + <p> + “It was a madness to let that fellow go. Had we but put him and his + servant out of the way, we should be able now to sleep tranquil in our + beds. I know their ways at Court. They might have marvelled a little at + first that he should tarry so long upon his errand, that he should send + them no word of its progress; but presently, seeing him no more, he would + little by little have been forgotten, and with him the affair in which the + Queen has been so cursedly ready to meddle. + </p> + <p> + “As it is, the fellow will go back hot with the outrage put upon him; + there will be some fine talk of it in Paris; it will be spoken of as + treason, as defiance of the King’s Majesty, as rebellion. The Parliament + may be moved to make outlaws of us, and the end of it all—who shall + foresee?” + </p> + <p> + “It is a long distance from Condillac to Paris, madame,” said her son, + with a shrug. + </p> + <p> + “And you will find them none so ready to send soldiers all this way, + Marquise,” the Seneschal comforted her. + </p> + <p> + “Bah! You make too sure of your security. You make too sure of what they + will do, what leave undone. Time will show, my friends; and, mor-dieu! I + am much at fault if you come not both to echo my regret that we did not + dispose of Monsieur de Garnache and his lackey when we had them in our + power.” + </p> + <p> + Her eye fell with sinister promise upon Tressan, who shivered slightly and + spread his hands to the blaze, as though his shiver had been of cold. But + Marius did not so readily grow afraid. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” he said, “at the worst we can shut our gates and fling defiance + at them. We are well-manned, and Fortunio is seeking fresh recruits.” + </p> + <p> + “Seeking them, yes,” she sneered. “For a week has the fellow been spending + money like water, addling the brains of half Grenoble with the best wine + at the Auberge de France, yet not a single recruit has come in, so far.” + </p> + <p> + Marius laughed. “Your pessimism leads you into rash conclusions,” he + cried. “You are wrong. One recruit has come in.” + </p> + <p> + “One!” she echoed. “A thousand devils! A brave number that! A fine return + for the river of wine with which we have washed the stomachs of Grenoble.” + </p> + <p> + “Still, it is a beginning,” ventured the Seneschal. + </p> + <p> + “Aye, and, no doubt, an ending,” she flashed back at him. “And what manner + of fool may this one be, whose fortunes were so desperate that he could + throw them in with ours?” + </p> + <p> + “He is an Italian—a Piedmontese who has tramped across Savoy and was + on his way to Paris to make his fortune, when Fortunio caught him and made + it clear to him that his fortune was made for him at Condillac. He is a + lusty, stalwart fellow, speaking no word of French, who was drawn to + Fortunio by discovering in him a fellow-countryman.” + </p> + <p> + Mockery flashed from the Dowager’s beautiful eyes. + </p> + <p> + “In that you have the reason of his enrolling himself. He knew no word of + French, poor devil, so could not learn how rash his venture was. Could we + find more such men as this one it might be well. But where shall we find + them? Pish! my dear Marius, matters are little mended, nor ever will be, + for the mistake we made in allowing Garnache to go his ways.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame;” again ventured Tressan, “I think that you want for hopefulness.” + </p> + <p> + “At least, I do not want for courage, Monsieur le Comte,” she answered + him; “and I promise you that while I live—to handle a sword if need + be—no Paris men shall set foot in Condillac.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye,” grumbled Marius, “you can contemplate that, and it is all you do + contemplate. You will not see, madame that our position is far from + desperate; that, after all, there may be no need to resist the King. It is + three months since we had news of Florimond. Much may happen in three + months when a man is warring. It may well be that he is dead.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish I knew he was—and damned,” she snapped, with a tightening of + her scarlet lips. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” agreed Marius, with a sigh, “that were an end to all our troubles.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m none so sure. There is still mademoiselle, with her new-formed + friends in Paris—may a pestilence blight them all! There are still + the lands of La Vauvraye to lose. The only true end to our troubles as + they stand at present lies in your marrying this headstrong baggage.” + </p> + <p> + “That the step should be rendered impossible, you can but blame yourself,” + Marius reminded her. + </p> + <p> + “How so?” she cried, turning sharply upon him. + </p> + <p> + “Had you kept friends with the Church, had you paid tithes and saved us + from this cursed Interdict, we should have no difficulty in getting hither + a priest, and settling the matter out of hand, be Valerie willing or not.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him, scorn kindling in her glance. Then she swung round to + appeal to Tressan. + </p> + <p> + “You hear him, Count,” said she. “There is a lover for you! He would wed + his mistress whether she love him or not—and he has sworn to me that + he loves the girl.” + </p> + <p> + “How else should the thing be done since she opposes it?” asked Marius, + sulkily. + </p> + <p> + “How else? Do you ask me how else? God! Were I a man, and had I your shape + and face, there is no woman in the world should withstand me if I set my + heart on her. It is address you lack. You are clumsy as a lout where a + woman is concerned. Were I in your place, I had taken her by storm three + months ago, when first she came to us. I had carried her out of Condillac, + out of France, over the border into Savoy, where there are no Interdicts + to plague you, and there I would have married her.” + </p> + <p> + Marius frowned darkly, but before he could speak, Tressan was insinuating + a compliment to the Marquise. + </p> + <p> + “True, Marius,” he said, with pursed lips. “Nature has been very good to + you in that she has made you the very counterpart of your lady mother. You + are as comely a gentleman as is to be found in France—or out of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Pish!” snapped Marius, too angered by the reflection cast upon his + address, to be flattered by their praises of his beauty. “It is an easy + thing to talk; an easy thing to set up arguments when we consider but the + half of a question. You forget, madame, that Valerie is betrothed to + Florimond and that she clings faithfully to her betrothal.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Vertudieu</i>!” swore the Marquise, “and what is this betrothal, what this + faithfulness? She has not seen her betrothed for three years. She was a + child at the time of their fiancailles. Think you her faithfulness to him + is the constancy of a woman to her lover? Go your ways, you foolish boy. + It is but the constancy to a word, to the wishes of her father. Think you + constancy that has no other base than that would stand between her and any + man who—as you might do, had you the address—could make her + love him?” + </p> + <p> + “I do say so,” answered Marius firmly. + </p> + <p> + She smiled the pitying smile of one equipped with superior knowledge when + confronted with an obstinate, uninformed mind. + </p> + <p> + “There is a droll arrogance about you, Marius,” she told him, quietly. + “You, a fledgling, would teach me, a woman, the ways of a woman’s heart! + It is a thing you may live to regret.” + </p> + <p> + “As how?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Once already has mademoiselle contrived to corrupt one of our men, and + send him to Paris with a letter. Out of that has sprung our present + trouble. Another time she may do better. When she shall have bribed + another to assist her to escape; when she, herself, shall have made off to + the shelter of the Queen-mother, perhaps you will regret that my counsel + should have fallen upon barren ground.” + </p> + <p> + “It is to prevent any such attempt that we have placed her under guard,” + said he. “You are forgetting that.” + </p> + <p> + “Forgetting it? Not I. But what assurance have you that she will not bribe + her guard?” + </p> + <p> + Marius laughed, rose, and pushed back his chair. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said he, “you are back at your contemplation of the worst side + of this affair; you are persisting in considering only how we may be + thwarted. But set your mind at rest. Gilles is her sentinel. Every night + he sleeps in her anteroom. He is Fortunio’s most trusted man. She will not + corrupt him.” + </p> + <p> + The Dowager smiled pensively, her eyes upon the fire. Suddenly she raised + them to his face. “Berthaud was none the less trusted. Yet, with no more + than a promise of reward at some future time should she succeed in + escaping from us, did she bribe him to carry her letter to the Queen. What + happened to Berthaud that may not happen to Gilles?” + </p> + <p> + “You might change her sentry nightly,” put in the Seneschal. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if we knew whom we could trust; who would be above corruption. As it + is”—she shrugged her shoulders “that would be but to afford her + opportunities to bribe them one by one until they were all ready to act in + concert.” + </p> + <p> + “Why need she any sentinel at all?” asked Tressan, with some show of + sense. + </p> + <p> + “To ward off possible traitors,” she told him, and Marius smiled and + wagged his head. + </p> + <p> + “Madame is never done foreseeing the worst, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + “Which shows my wisdom. The men in our garrison are mercenaries, all + attached to us only because we pay them. They all know who she is and what + her wealth.” + </p> + <p> + “Pity you have not a man who is deaf and dumb,” said Tressan, half in + jest. But Marius looked up suddenly, his eyes serious. + </p> + <p> + “We have as good,” said he. “There is the Italian knave Fortunio enrolled + yesterday, as I have told you. He knows neither her wealth nor her + identity; nor if he did could he enter into traffic with her, for he knows + no French, and she no Italian.” + </p> + <p> + The Dowager clapped her hands. “The very man!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + But Marius, either from sheer perverseness, or because he did not share + her enthusiasm, made answer: “I have faith in Gilles.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she mocked him, “and you had faith in Berthaud. Oh, if you have + faith in Gilles, let him remain; let no more be said.” + </p> + <p> + The obstinate boy took her advice, and shifted the subject, speaking to + Tressan of some trivial business connected with the Seneschalship. + </p> + <p> + But madame, woman-like, returned to the matter whose abandoning she had + herself suggested. Marius, for all his affected disdain of it, viewed it + with a certain respect. And so in the end they sent for the recruit. + </p> + <p> + Fortunio—who was no other than the man Garnache had known as + “Sanguinetti”—brought him, still clad in the clothes in which he had + come. He was a tall, limber fellow, with a very swarthy skin and black, + oily-looking hair that fell in short ringlets about his ears and neck, and + a black, drooping mustache which gave him a rather hang-dog look. There + was a thick stubble of beard of several days’ growth about his chin and + face; his eyes were furtive in their glances, but of a deep blue that + contrasted oddly with his blackness when he momentarily raised them. + </p> + <p> + He wore a tattered jerkin, and his legs, in default of stockings, were + swathed in soiled bandages and cross-gartered from ankle to knee. He stood + in a pair of wooden shoes, from one of which peeped forth some wisps of + straw, introduced, no doubt, to make the footgear fit. He slouched and + shuffled in his walk, and he was unspeakably dirty. Nevertheless, he was + girt with a sword in a ragged scabbard hanging from a frayed and shabby + belt of leather. + </p> + <p> + Madame scanned him with interest. The fastidious Marius eyed him with + disgust. The Seneschal peered at him curiously through shortsighted eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I do not think I have ever seen a dirtier ruffian,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “I like his nose,” said madame quietly. “It is the nose of an intrepid + man.” + </p> + <p> + “It reminds me of Garnache’s,” laughed the Seneschal. + </p> + <p> + “You flatter the Parisian,” commented Marius. + </p> + <p> + The mercenary, meanwhile, stood blandly smiling at the party, showing at + least a fine array of teeth, and wearing the patient, attentive air of one + who realizes himself to be under discussion, yet does not understand what + is being said. + </p> + <p> + “A countryman of yours, Fortunio?” sneered Marius. + </p> + <p> + The captain, whose open, ingenuous countenance dissembled as villainous a + heart as ever beat in the breast of any man, disowned the compatriotism + with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “Hardly, monsieur,” said he. “‘Battista’ is a Piedmontese.” Fortunio + himself was a Venetian. + </p> + <p> + “Is he to be relied upon, think you?” asked madame. Fortunio shrugged his + shoulders and spread his hands. It was not his habit to trust any man + inordinately. + </p> + <p> + “He is an old soldier,” said he. “He has trailed a pike in the Neapolitan + wars. I have cross-questioned him, and found his answers bore out the + truth of what he said.” + </p> + <p> + “And what brings him to France?” asked Tressan. The captain smiled again, + and there came again that expressive shrug of his. “A little over-ready + with the steel,” said he. + </p> + <p> + They told Fortunio that they proposed to place him sentry over + mademoiselle instead of Gilles, as the Italian’s absolute lack of French + would ensure against corruption. The captain readily agreed with them. It + would be a wise step. The Italian fingered his tattered hat, his eyes on + the ground. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly madame spoke to him. She asked him for some account of himself + and whence he came, using the Italian tongue, of which she had a passing + knowledge. He followed her questions very attentively, at times with + apparent difficulty, his eyes on her face, his head craned a little + forward. + </p> + <p> + Now and then Fortunio had to intervene, to make plainer to this ignorant + Piedmontese mind the Marquise’s questions. His answers came in a deep, + hoarse voice, slurred by the accent of Piedmont, and madame—her + knowledge of Italian being imperfect—had frequently to have recourse + to Fortunio to discover the meaning of what he said. + </p> + <p> + At last she dismissed the pair of them, bidding the captain see that he + was washed and more fittingly clothed. + </p> + <p> + An hour later, after the Seneschal had taken his departure to ride home to + Grenoble, it was madame herself, accompanied by Marius and Fortunio, who + conducted Battista—such was the name the Italian had given—to + the apartments above, where mademoiselle was now confined practically a + prisoner. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. VALERIE’S GAOLER + </h2> + <p> + My child, said the Dowager, and her eyes dwelt on Valerie with a look of + studied gentleness, “why will you not be reasonable?” + </p> + <p> + The constant reflection that Garnache was at large, making his way back to + Paris to stir up vengeance for the outrage put upon him, was not without a + certain chastening effect upon the Dowager. She had a way of saying that + she had as good a stomach for a fight as any man in France, and a fight + there should be if it came to it and Garnache should return to assail + Condillac. Yet a certain pondering of the consequences, a certain counting + of the cost—ordinarily unusual to her nature led her to have + recourse to persuasion and to a gentleness no less unusual. + </p> + <p> + Valerie’s eyes were raised to hers with a look that held more scorn than + wonder. They were standing in the antechamber of Valerie’s room. Yonder at + his post lounged the recruit “Battista,” looking a trifle cleaner than + when first he had been presented to the Marquise, but still not clean + enough for a lady’s antechamber. He was leaning stolidly against the sill + of the window, his eyes on the distant waters of the Isere, which shone a + dull copper colour in the afterglow of the October sunset. His face was + vacant, his eyes pensive, as he stood there undisturbed by the flow of a + language he did not understand. + </p> + <p> + Fortunio and Marius had departed, and the Marquise—played upon by + her unusual tremors—had remained behind for a last word with the + obstinate girl. + </p> + <p> + “In what, madame,” asked Valerie, “does my conduct fall short of + reasonableness?” + </p> + <p> + The Dowager made a movement of impatience. If at every step she were to be + confronted by these questions, which had in them a savour of challenge, + she was wasting time in remaining. + </p> + <p> + “You are unreasonable, in this foolish clinging to a promise given for + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Given by me, madame,” the girl amended, knowing well to what promise the + Dowager referred. + </p> + <p> + “Given by you, then; but given at an age when you could not understand the + nature of it. They had no right to bind you so.” + </p> + <p> + “If it is for any to question that right, it is for me,” Valerie made + answer, her eyes ever meeting the Dowager’s unflinchingly. “And I am + content to leave that right unquestioned. I am content to fill the promise + given. In honour I could not do less.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! In honour!” The Dowager sighed. Then she came a step nearer, and her + face grew sweetly wistful. “But your heart, child; what of your heart?” + </p> + <p> + “My heart concerns myself. I am the betrothed of Florimond—that is + all that concerns the world and you. I respect and admire him more than + any living man, and I shall be proud to become his wife when he returns, + as his wife I shall become in spite of all that you and your son may do.” + </p> + <p> + The Dowager laughed softly, as if to herself. + </p> + <p> + “And if I tell you that Florimond is dead?” + </p> + <p> + “When you give me proof of that, I shall believe it,” the girl replied. + The Marquise looked at her, her face manifesting no offence at the almost + insulting words. + </p> + <p> + “And if I were to lay that proof before you?” she inquired, sadly almost. + </p> + <p> + Valerie’s eyes opened a trifle wider, as if in apprehension. But her + answer was prompt and her voice steady. “It still could have no effect + upon my attitude towards your son.” + </p> + <p> + “This is foolishness, Valerie—” + </p> + <p> + “In you it is, madame,” the girl broke in; “a foolishness to think you can + constrain a girl, compel her affections, command her love, by such means + as you have employed towards me. You think that it predisposes me to be + wooed, that it opens my heart to your son, to see myself gaoled that he + may pay me his court.” + </p> + <p> + “Gaoled, child? Who gaols you?” the Dowager cried, as if the most + surprising utterance had fallen from Valerie’s lips. + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle smiled in sorrow and some scorn. + </p> + <p> + “Am I not gaoled, then?” she asked. “What call you this? What does that + fellow there? He is to lie outside my door at nights to see that none + holds communication with me. He is to go with me each morning to the + garden, when, by your gracious charity I take the air. Sleeping and waking + the man is ever within hearing of any word that I may utter—” + </p> + <p> + “But he has no French!” the Dowager protested. + </p> + <p> + “To ensure, no doubt, against any attempt of mine to win him to my side, + to induce him to aid me escape from this prison. Oh, madame, I tell you + you do but waste time, and you punish me and harass yourself to little + purpose. Had Marius been such a man as I might have felt it in my nature + to love—which Heaven forbid!—these means by which you have sought to + bring that thing about could but have resulted in making me hate him as I + do.” + </p> + <p> + The Dowager’s fears were banished from her mind at that, and with them + went all thought of conciliating Valerie. Anger gleamed in her eyes; the + set of her lips grew suddenly sneering and cruel, so that the beauty of + her face but served to render it hateful the more. + </p> + <p> + “So that you hate him, ma mie?” a ripple of mockery on the current of her + voice, “and he a man such as any girl in France might be proud to wed. + Well, well, you are not to be constrained, you say.” And the Marquise’s + laugh was menacing and unpleasant. “Be not so sure, mademoiselle. Be not + so sure of that. It may well betide that you shall come to beg upon your + knees for this alliance with a man whom you tell me that you hate. Be not + so sure you cannot be constrained.” + </p> + <p> + Their eyes met; both women were white to the lips, but it was curbed + passion in the one, and deadly fear in the other; for what the Dowager’s + words left unsaid her eyes most eloquently conveyed. The girl shrank back, + her hands clenched, her lip caught in her teeth. + </p> + <p> + “There is a God in heaven, madame,” she reminded the Marquise. + </p> + <p> + “Aye—in heaven,” laughed the Marquise, turning to depart. She paused + by the door, which the Italian had sprung forward to open for her. + </p> + <p> + “Marius shall take the air with you in the morning if it is fine. Ponder + meanwhile what I have said.” + </p> + <p> + “Does this man remain here, madame?” inquired the girl, vainly seeking to + render her voice steady. + </p> + <p> + “In the outer anteroom is his place: but as the key of this room is on his + side of the door, he may enter here when he so pleases, or when he thinks + that he has reason to. If the sight of him displeases you, you may lock + yourself from it in your own chamber yonder.” + </p> + <p> + The same she said in Italian to the man, who bowed impassively, and + followed the Dowager into the outer room, closing the door upon + mademoiselle. It was a chamber almost bare of furniture, save for a table + and chair which had been placed there, so that the gaoler might take his + meals. + </p> + <p> + The man followed the Marquise across the bare floor, their steps + resounding as they went, and he held the outer door for her. + </p> + <p> + Without another word she left him, and where he stood he could hear her + steps as she tripped down the winding staircase of stone. At last the door + of the courtyard closed with a bang, and the grating of a key announced to + the mercenary that he and his charge were both imprisoned in that tower of + the Chateau de Condillac. + </p> + <p> + Left alone in the anteroom, mademoiselle crossed to the window and dropped + limply into a chair. Her face was still very white, her heart beating + tumultuously, for the horrid threat that had been conveyed in the + Dowager’s words had brought her her first thrill of real fear since the + beginning of this wooing-by-force three months ago, a wooing which had + become more insistent and less like a wooing day by day, until it had + culminated in her present helpless position. + </p> + <p> + She was a strong-souled, high-spirited girl, but tonight hope seemed + extinguished in her breast. Florimond, too, seemed to have abandoned her. + Either he had forgotten her, or he was dead, as the Dowager said. Which + might be the true state of things she did not greatly care. The + realization of how utterly she was in the power of Madame de Condillac and + her son, and the sudden chance discovery of how unscrupulously that power + might be wielded, filled her mind to the exclusion of all else. + </p> + <p> + By the window she sat, watching, without heeding them, the fading colours + in the sky. She was abandoned to these monsters, and it seemed they would + devour her. She could hope for no help from outside since they had as she + believed—slain Monsieur de Garnache. Her mind dwelt for a moment on + that glimpse of rescue that had been hers a week ago, upon the few hours + of liberty which she had enjoyed, but which only seemed now to increase + the dark hopelessness of her imprisonment. + </p> + <p> + Again with the eyes of her mind she beheld that grim, stalwart figure, saw + his great nose, his greying hair, his fierce mustachios and his stern, + quick eyes. Again she heard the rasp of his metallic voice with its brisk + derision. She saw him in the hall below, his foot upon the neck of that + popinjay of Condillac daring them all to draw a breath, should he forbid + it; again in fancy she rode on the withers of his horse at the gallop + towards Grenoble. A sigh escaped her. Surely that was the first man who + was indeed a man she had ever set eyes on since her father died. Had + Garnache been spared, she would have felt courage and she would have + hoped, for there was something about him that suggested energy and + resource such as it is good to lean upon in times of stress. Again she + heard that brisk, metallic voice: “Are you content, madame? Have you had + fine deeds enough for one day?” + </p> + <p> + And then, breaking in upon her musings came the very voice of her + day-dream, so suddenly, sounding so natural and lifelike that she almost + screamed, so startled was she. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle,” it said, “I beg that you’ll not utterly lose heart. I have + come back to the thing Her Majesty bade me do, and I’ll do it, in spite of + that tigress and her cub.” + </p> + <p> + She sat still as a statue, scarce breathing, her eyes fixed upon the + violet sky. The voice had ceased, but still she sat on. Then it was slowly + borne in upon her that that was no dream-voice, no trick of her + overburdened mind. A voice, a living, actual voice had uttered those words + in this room, here at her elbow. + </p> + <p> + She turned, and again she almost screamed; for there, just behind her, his + glittering eyes fixed upon her with singular intentness, stood the + swarthy, black-haired Italian gaoler they had given her because he had no + French. + </p> + <p> + He had come up so quietly behind her that she had not heard his approach, + and he was leaning forward now, with an odd suggestion of crouching in his + attitude, like a beast about to spring. Yet his gaze riveted hers as with + a fascination. And so, while she looked, his lips moved, and from them, in + that same voice of her dreams, came from this man who had no French, the + words: + </p> + <p> + “Be not afraid, mademoiselle. I am that blunderer, Garnache, that unworthy + fool whose temper ruined what chance of saving you he had a week ago.” + </p> + <p> + She stared like one going mad. + </p> + <p> + “Garnache!” said she, in a husky whisper. “You Garnache?” + </p> + <p> + Yet the voice, she knew, was Garnache’s and none other. It was a voice not + easily mistaken. And now, as she looked and looked, she saw that the man’s + nose was Garnache’s, though oddly stained, and those keen eyes, they were + Garnache’s too. But the hair that had been brown and flecked with grey was + black; the reddish mustachios that had bristled like a mountain cat’s were + black, too, and they hung limp and hid from sight the fine lines of his + mouth. A hideous stubble of unshorn beard defaced his chin and face, and + altered its sharp outline; and the clear, healthy skin that she remembered + was now a dirty brown. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the face smiled, and it was a smile that reassured her and drove + away the last doubt that she had. She was on her feet in an instant. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, monsieur,” was all that she could say; but her longing was to + fling her arms about the neck of this man, as she might have flung them + about the neck of a brother or a father, and sob out upon his shoulder the + sudden relief and revulsion that his presence brought. + </p> + <p> + Garnache saw something of her agitation, and to relieve it he smiled and + began to tell her the circumstances of his return and his presentation to + Madame as a knave who had no French. + </p> + <p> + “Fortune was very good to me, mademoiselle,” said he. “I had little hope + that such a face as mine could be disguised, but I take no pride in what + you see. It is the handiwork of Rabecque, the most ingenious lackey that + ever served a foolish master. It helped me that having been ten years in + Italy when I was younger, I acquired the language so well as to be able to + impose even upon Fortunio. In that lay a circumstance which at once + disarmed suspicion, and if I stay not so long as it shall take the dye to + wear from my hair and beard and the staining from my face, I shall have + little to fear.” + </p> + <p> + “But, monsieur,” she cried, “you have everything to fear!” And alarm grew + in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + But he laughed again for answer. “I have faith in my luck, mademoiselle, + and I think I am on the tide of it at present. I little hoped when I made + my way into Condillac in this array that I should end, by virtue of my + pretended ignorance of French, in being appointed gaoler to you. I had + some ado to keep the joy from my eyes when I heard them planning it. It is + a thing that has made all else easy.” + </p> + <p> + “But what can you do alone, monsieur?” she asked him; and there was a note + almost of petulance in her voice. + </p> + <p> + He moved to the window, and leaned his elbow on the sill. The light was + fast fading. “I know not yet. But I am here to contrive a means. I shall + think and watch.” + </p> + <p> + “You know in what hourly peril I am placed,” she cried, and suddenly + remembering that he must have overheard and understood the Dowager’s + words, a sudden heat came to her cheeks to recede again and leave them + marble-pale. And she thanked Heaven that in the dusk and in the shadow + where she stood he could but ill make out her face. + </p> + <p> + “If you think that I have been rash in returning—” + </p> + <p> + “No, no, not rash, monsieur; noble and brave above all praise. I would + indeed I could tell you how noble and brave I account your action.” + </p> + <p> + “It is as nothing to the bravery required to let Rabecque do this hideous + work upon a face for which I have ever entertained some measure of + respect.” + </p> + <p> + He jested, sooner than enlighten her that it was his egregious pride had + fetched him back when he was but a few hours upon his journey Pariswards, + his inability to brook the ridicule that would be his when he announced at + the Luxembourg that failure had attended him. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but what can you do alone?” she repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Give me at least a day or two to devise some means; let me look round and + take the measure of this gaol. Some way there must be. I have not come so + far and so successfully to be beaten now. Still,” he continued, “if you + think that I overrate my strength or my resource, if you would sooner that + I sought men and made an assault upon Condillac, endeavouring to carry it + and to let the Queen’s will prevail by force of arms, tell me so, and I am + gone tomorrow.” + </p> + <p> + “Whither would you go?” she cried, her voice strained with sudden + affright. + </p> + <p> + “I might seek help at Lyons or Moulins. I might find loyal soldiers who + would be willing to follow me by virtue of my warrant to levy such help as + I may require, if I but tell them that the help was refused me in + Grenoble. I am not sure that it would be so, for, unfortunately, my + warrant is for the Seneschal of Dauphiny only. Still, I might make the + attempt.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” she implored him, and in her eagerness to have him put all + thought of leaving her from his mind, she caught him by the arm and raised + a pleading face to his. “Do not leave me here, monsieur; of your pity do + not leave me alone amongst them. Think me a coward if you will, monsieur: + I am no less. They have made a coward of me.” + </p> + <p> + He understood the thing she dreaded, and a great pity welled up from his + generous heart for this poor unfriended girl at the mercy of the beautiful + witch of Condillac and her beautiful rascally son. He patted the hand that + clutched his arm. + </p> + <p> + “I think, myself, that it will be best if I remain, now that I have come + so far,” he said. “Let me ponder things. It may well be that I shall + devise some way.” + </p> + <p> + “May Heaven inspire you, monsieur. I shall spend the night in prayer, I + think, imploring God and His saints to show you the way you seek.” + </p> + <p> + “Heaven, I think, should hear your prayers, mademoiselle,” he answered + musingly, his glance upon the white, saintly face that seemed to shine in + the deepening gloom. Then, suddenly he stirred and bent to listen. + </p> + <p> + “Sh! Some one is coming,” he whispered. And he sped quickly from her side + and into the outer room, where he sank noiselessly on to his chair as the + steps ascended the stone staircase and a glow of yellow light grew + gradually in the doorway that opened on to it. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. A MATTER OF CONSCIENCE + </h2> + <p> + That he might inspire the more confidence in the Dowager and her son + Garnache organized and performed a little comedy at Condillac a couple of + nights after his appointment as mademoiselle’s gaoler. He gave an alarm at + dead midnight, and when half-clad men, followed presently by madame and + Marian, rushed into the anteroom where he stood, a very picture of the + wildest excitement, he drew their attention to two twisted sheets, tied + end to end, hanging from the window which overlooked the moat; and in + answer to the marquise’s questions he informed her that he had been + disturbed by sounds of movements and upon entering the chamber he had + discovered mademoiselle making these preparations for departure. + </p> + <p> + Valerie, locked in the inner chamber, refused to come forth as the + Marquise bade her, but her voice reassured Madame de Condillac of her + presence, and so, since her attempt had failed, madame was content to let + her be. + </p> + <p> + “The little fool,” she said, peering down from the window into the night; + “she would have been killed for certain. Her rope of sheets does not reach + more than a third of the way down. She would have had over thirty feet to + fall, and if that had not been enough to finish her, she would of a + certainty have, been drowned in the moat.” + </p> + <p> + She signified her satisfaction with the faithful “Battista’s” vigilance by + a present of some gold pieces in the morning, and since the height of the + window and the moat beneath it did not appear sufficient obstacles to + mademoiselle’s attempts at effecting her escape, the Dowager had the + window nailed down. Thus, only by breaking it could egress be obtained, + and the breaking of it could not be effected without such a noise as must + arouse “Battista.” + </p> + <p> + Under Garnache’s instructions the comedy was carried a little further. + Mademoiselle affected for her gaoler a most unconquerable aversion, and + this she took pains to proclaim. + </p> + <p> + One morning, three days after her attempted escape, she was taking the air + in the garden of Condillac, “Battista,” ever watchful, a few paces behind + her, when suddenly she was joined by Marius—a splendid, graceful + figure in a riding-suit of brown velvet and biscuit-coloured hose, his + points tipped with gold, his long boots of the finest marroquin leather, + his liver-coloured hound at his heels. It was the last day of October, but + the weather, from cold and wet that it had been for the past fortnight, + had taken on a sudden improvement. The sun shone, the air was still and + warm, and but for the strewn leaves and the faint smell of decay with + which the breath of autumn is ever laden, one might have fancied it a day + of early spring. + </p> + <p> + It was not Valerie’s wont to pause when Marius approached. Since she might + not prevent him from walking where he listed, she had long since abandoned + the futility of bidding him begone when he came near her. But, at least, + she had never stopped in her walk, never altered its pace; she had + suffered what she might not avoid, but she had worn the outward air of + suffering it with indifference. This morning, however, she made a + departure from her long habit. Not only did she pause upon observing his + approach, but she called to him as if she would have him hasten to her + side. And hasten he did, a new light in his eyes that was mostly of + surprise, but a little, also, of hope. + </p> + <p> + She was gracious to him for once, and gave him good morning in a manner + that bordered upon the pleasant. Wondering, he fell into step beside her, + and they paced together the yew-bordered terrace, the ever-vigilant but + discreet “Battista” following them, though keeping now a few paces farther + in the rear. + </p> + <p> + For a little while they appeared constrained, and their talk was of the + falling leaves and the grateful change that had so suddenly come upon the + weather. Suddenly she stopped and faced him. + </p> + <p> + “Will you do me a favour, Marius?” she asked. He halted too, and turned to + her, studying her gentle face, seeking to guess her mind in the clear + hazel eyes she raised to his. His eyebrows lifted slightly with surprise. + Nevertheless— + </p> + <p> + “There is in all the world, Valerie, nothing you could ask me that I would + not do,” he protested. + </p> + <p> + She smiled wistfully. “How easy it is to utter words!” she sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Marry me,” he answered, leaning towards her, his eyes devouring her now, + “and you shall find my words very quickly turned to deeds.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah,” said she, and her smile broadened and took on a scornful twist, “you + make conditions now. If I will marry you, there is nothing you will not do + for me; so that, conversely, I may take it that if I do not marry you, + there is nothing you will do. But in the meantime, Marius, until I resolve + me whether I will marry you or not, would you not do a little thing that I + might ask of you?” + </p> + <p> + “Until you resolve?” he cried, and his face flushed with the sudden hope + he gathered from those words. Hitherto there had been no suggestion of a + possible modification of attitude towards his suit. It had been repulsion, + definite and uncompromising. Again he studied her face. Was she fooling + him, this girl with the angel-innocence of glance? The thought of such a + possibility cooled him instantly. “What is it you want of me?” he asked, + his voice ungracious. + </p> + <p> + “Only a little thing, Marius.” Her glance travelled back over her shoulder + to the tall, limber fellow in leather jerkin and with cross-gartered legs + who lounged a dozen steps behind them. “Rid me of that ruffian’s company,” + said she. + </p> + <p> + Marius looked back at “Battista,” and from him to Valerie. Then he smiled + and made a slight movement with his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “But to what end?” he asked, as one who pleadingly opposes an argument + that is unreasonable. “Another would replace him, and there is little to + choose among the men that garrison Condillac.” + </p> + <p> + “Little, perhaps; but that little matters.” Sure of her ground, and + gathering from his tone and manner that the more ardently she begged this + thing the less likely would it be that she should prevail, she pursued her + intercessions with a greater heat. “Oh,” she cried, in a pretended rage, + “it is to insult me to give me that unclean knave for perpetual company. I + loathe and detest him. The very sight of him is too much to endure.” + </p> + <p> + “You exaggerate,” said he coldly. + </p> + <p> + “I do not; indeed I do not,” she rejoined, looking frankly, pleadingly + into his face. “You do not realize what it is to suffer the insolent + vigilance of such as he; to feel that your every step is under + surveillance; to feel his eyes ever upon you when you are within his + sight. Oh, it is insufferable!” + </p> + <p> + Suddenly he gripped her arm, his face within a hand’s breadth of her own, + his words falling hot and quickly on her ear. + </p> + <p> + “It is yours to end it when you will, Valerie,” he passionately reminded + her. “Give yourself into my keeping. Let it be mine to watch over you + henceforth. Let me—” + </p> + <p> + Abruptly he ceased. She had drawn back her head, her face was white to the + lips, and in her eyes, as they dwelt on his at such close quarters, there + appeared a look of terror, of loathing unutterable. He saw it, and + releasing her arm he fell back as if she had struck him. The colour left + his face too. + </p> + <p> + “Or is it,” he muttered thickly, “that I inspire you, with much the same + feeling as does he?” + </p> + <p> + She stood before him with lowered eyelids, her bosom heaving still from + the agitation of fear his closeness had aroused in her. He studied her in + silence a moment, with narrowing eyes and tightening lips. Then anger + stirred in him, and quenched the sorrow with which at first he had marked + the signs of her repulsion. But anger in Marius de Condillac was a cold + and deadly emotion that vented itself in no rantings, uttered no + loud-voiced threats or denunciations, prompted no waving of arms or + plucking forth of weapons. + </p> + <p> + He stooped towards her again from his stately, graceful height. The + cruelty hidden in the beautiful lines of his mouth took instant prominence + in the smile that flickered round it. + </p> + <p> + “I think that Battista makes a very excellent watchdog,” he said, and you + would have thought him amused, as if at the foolish subterfuge of some + little child. “You may be right to dislike him. He knows no French, so + that it may not be yours to pervert and bribe him with promises of what + you will do if he assists you to escape; but you will see that this very + quality which renders him detestable to you renders him invaluable to us.” + </p> + <p> + He laughed softly, as one well pleased with his own astuteness, doffed his + hat with a politeness almost exaggerated, and whistling his dog he + abruptly left her. + </p> + <p> + Thus were Marius and his mother—to whom he bore the tale of + Valerie’s request—tricked further into reposing the very fullest + trust in the watchful, incorruptible “Battista.” Realizing that this would + be so, Garnache now applied himself more unreservedly to putting into + effect the plans he had been maturing. And he went about it with a zest + that knew no flagging, with a relish that nothing could impair. Not that + it was other than usual for Garnache to fling himself whole-heartedly into + the conduct of any enterprise he might have upon his hands; but he had + come into this affair at Condillac against his will; stress of + circumstances it was had driven him on, step by step, to take a personal + hand in the actual deliverance of Valerie. + </p> + <p> + It was vanity and pride that had turned him back when already he was on + the road to Paris; not without yet a further struggle would he accept + defeat. To this end had he been driven, for the first time in his life, to + the indignity of his foul disguise; and he, whose methods had ever been + direct, had been forced to have recourse to the commonest of subterfuges. + It was with anger in his heart that he had proceeded to play the part he + had assumed. He felt it to be a thing unworthy of him, a thing that + derogated from his self-respect. Had he but had the justification of some + high political aim, he might have endured it with a better resignation; + the momentous end to be served might have sanctioned the ignoble means + adopted. But here was a task in itself almost as unworthy of him as the + methods by which he now set about accomplishing it. He was to black his + face and dye his beard and hair, stain his skin and garb himself in filthy + rags, for no better end than that he might compass the enlargement of a + girl from the captivity into which she had been forced by a designing lady + of Dauphiny. Was that a task to set a soldier, a man of his years and + birth and name? He had revolted at it; yet that stubborn pride of his that + would not brook his return to Paris to confess himself defeated by a woman + over this woman’s business, held him relentlessly to his distasteful + course. + </p> + <p> + And gradually the distaste of it had melted. It had begun to fall away + five nights ago, when he had heard what passed between Madame de Condillac + and Valerie. A great pity for this girl, a great indignation against those + who would account no means too base to achieve their ends with her, a + proper realization of the indignities she was suffering, caused him to + shed some of his reluctance, some of his sense of injury to himself. + </p> + <p> + His innate chivalry, that fine spirit of his which had ever prompted him + to defend the weak against the oppressor, stirred him now, and stirred him + to such purpose that, in the end, from taking up the burden of his task + reluctantly, he came to bear it zestfully and almost gladly. He was + rejoiced to discover himself equipped with histrionic gifts of which he + had had no suspicion hitherto, and it delighted him to set them into + activity. + </p> + <p> + Now it happened that at Condillac there was a fellow countryman of + “Battista’s,” a mercenary from Northern Italy, a rascal named Arsenio, + whom Fortunio had enlisted when first he began to increase the garrison a + month ago. Upon this fellow’s honesty Garnache had formed designs. He had + closely observed him, and in Arsenio’s countenance he thought he detected + a sufficiency of villainy to augur well for the prosperity of any scheme + of treachery that might be suggested to him provided the reward were + adequate. + </p> + <p> + Garnache went about sounding the man with a wiliness peculiarly his own. + Arsenio being his only compatriot at Condillac it was not wonderful that + in his few daily hours of relief from his gaoler’s duty “Battista” should + seek out the fellow and sit in talk with him. The pair became intimate, + and intercourse between them grew more free and unrestrained. Garnache + waited, wishing to risk nothing by precipitancy, and watched for his + opportunity. It came on the morrow of All Saints. On that Day of the Dead, + Arsenio, whose rearing had been that of a true son of Mother Church, was + stirred by the memory of his earthly mother, who had died some three years + before. He was silent and moody, and showed little responsiveness to + Garnache’s jesting humour. Garnache, wondering what might be toward in the + fellow’s mind, watched him closely. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the little man—he was a short, bowlegged, sinewy fellow—heaved + a great sigh as he plucked idly at a weed that grew between two stones of + the inner courtyard, where they were seated on the chapel steps. + </p> + <p> + “You are a dull comrade to-day, compatriot,” said Garnache, clapping him + on the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “It is the Day of the Dead,” the fellow answered him, as though that were + an ample explanation. Garnache laughed. + </p> + <p> + “To those that are dead it no doubt is; so was yesterday, so will + to-morrow be. But to us who sit here it is the day of the living.” + </p> + <p> + “You are a scoffer,” the other reproached him, and his rascally face was + oddly grave. “You don’t understand.” + </p> + <p> + “Enlighten me, then. Convert me.” + </p> + <p> + “It is the day when our thoughts turn naturally to the dead, and mine are + with my mother, who has lain in her grave these three years. I am thinking + of what she reared me and of what I am.” + </p> + <p> + Garnache made a grimace which the other did not observe. He stared at the + little cut-throat, and there was some dismay in his glance. What ailed the + rogue? Was he about to repent him of his sins, and to have done with + villainy and treachery; was he minded to slit no more gullets in the + future, be faithful to the hand that paid him, and lead a godlier life? + Peste! That was a thing that would nowise suit Monsieur de Garnache’s ends + just then. If Arsenio had a mind to reform, let him postpone that + reformation until Garnache should have done with him. So he opened his + lips and let out a deep guffaw of mockery. + </p> + <p> + “We shall have you turning monk,” said he, “a candidate for canonization + going barefoot, with flagellated back and shaven head. No more wine, no + more dice, no more wenches, no more—” + </p> + <p> + “Peace!” snapped the other. + </p> + <p> + “Say ‘Pax,”’ suggested Garnache, “‘Pax tecum,’ or ‘vobiscum.’ It is thus + you will be saying it later.” + </p> + <p> + “If my conscience pricks me, is it aught to you? Have you no conscience of + your own?” + </p> + <p> + “None. Men wax lean on it in this vale of tears. It is a thing invented by + the great to enable them to pursue the grinding and oppression of the + small. If your master pays you ill for the dirty work you do for him and + another comes along to offer you some rich reward for an omission in that + same service, you are warned that if you let yourself be tempted, your + conscience will plague you afterwards. Pish! A clumsy, childish device + that, to keep you faithful.” + </p> + <p> + Arsenio looked up. Words that defamed the great were ever welcome to him; + arguments that showed him he was oppressed and imposed upon sounded ever + gratefully in his ears. He nodded his approval of “Battista’s” dictum. + </p> + <p> + “Body of Bacchus!” he swore, “you are right in that, compatriot. But my + case is different. I am thinking of the curse that Mother Church has put + upon this house. Yesterday was All Saints, and never a Mass heard I. + To-day is All Souls, and never a prayer may I offer up in this place of + sin for the rest of my mother’s soul.” + </p> + <p> + “How so?” quoth Garnache, looking in wonder at this religiously minded + cut-throat. + </p> + <p> + “How so? Is not the House of Condillac under excommunication, and every + man who stays in it of his own free will? Prayers and Sacraments are alike + forbidden here.” + </p> + <p> + Garnache received a sudden inspiration. He leapt to his feet, his face + convulsed as if at the horror of learning of a hitherto undreamt-of state + of things. He never paused to give a moment’s consideration to the + cut-throat’s mind, so wonderfully constituted as to enable him to break + with impunity every one of the commandments every day of the week for the + matter of a louis d’or or two, and yet be afflicted by qualms of + conscience at living under a roof upon which the Church had hurled her + malediction. + </p> + <p> + “What are you saying, compatriot? What is it that you tell me?” + </p> + <p> + “The truth,” said Arsenio, with a shrug. “Any man who wilfully abides in + the services of Condillac”—and instinctively he lowered his voice + lest the Captain or the Marquise should be within earshot—, “is + excommunicate.” + </p> + <p> + “By the Host!” swore the false Piedmontese. “I am a Christian man myself, + Arsenio, and I have lived in ignorance of this thing?” + </p> + <p> + “That ignorance may be your excuse. But now that you know—” Arsenio + shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “Now that I know, I had best have a care of my soul and look about me for + other employment.” + </p> + <p> + “Alas!” sighed Arsenio; “it is none so easy to find.” + </p> + <p> + Garnache looked at him. Garnache began to have in his luck a still greater + faith than hitherto. He glanced stealthily around; then he sat down again, + so that his mouth was close to Arsenio’s ear. + </p> + <p> + “The pay is beggarly here, yet I have refused a fortune offered me by + another that I might remain loyal to my masters at Condillac. But this + thing that you tell me alters everything. By the Host! yes.” + </p> + <p> + “A fortune?” sneered Arsenio. + </p> + <p> + “Aye, a fortune—at least, fifty pistoles. That is a fortune to some + of us.” + </p> + <p> + Arsenio whistled. “Tell me more,” said he. + </p> + <p> + Garnache rose with the air of one about to depart. + </p> + <p> + “I must think of it,” said he, and he made shift to go. But the other’s + hand fell with a clenching grip upon his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Of what must you think, fool?” said he. “Tell me this service you have + been offered. I have a conscience that upbraids me. If you refuse these + fifty pistoles, why should not I profit by your folly?” + </p> + <p> + “There would not be the need. Two men are required for the thing I speak + of, and there are fifty pistoles for each. If I decide to undertake the + task, I’ll speak of you as a likely second.” + </p> + <p> + He nodded gloomily to his companion, and shaking off his hold he set out + to cross the yard. But Arsenio was after him and had fastened again upon + his arm, detaining him. + </p> + <p> + “You fool!” said he; “you’d not refuse this fortune?” + </p> + <p> + “It would mean treachery,” whispered Garnache. + </p> + <p> + “That is bad,” the other agreed, and his face fell. But remembering what + Garnache had said, he was quick to brighten again. “Is it to these folk + here at Condillac?” he asked. Garnache nodded. “And they would pay—these + people that seek our service would pay you fifty pistoles?” + </p> + <p> + “They seek my service only, as yet. They might seek yours were I to speak + for you.” + </p> + <p> + “And you will, compatriot. You will, will you not? We are comrades, we are + friends, and we are fellow-countrymen in a strange land. There is nothing + I would not do for you, Battista. Look, I would die for you if there + should come the need! Body of Bacchus! I would. I am like that when I love + a man.” + </p> + <p> + Garnache patted his shoulder. “You are a good fellow, Arsenio.” + </p> + <p> + “And you will speak for me?” + </p> + <p> + “But you do not know the nature of the service,” said Garnache. “You may + refuse it when it is definitely offered you.” + </p> + <p> + “Refuse fifty pistoles? I should deserve to be the pauper that I am if + such had been my habits. Be the service what it may, my conscience pricks + me for serving Condillac. Tell me how the fifty pistoles are to be earned, + and you may count upon me to put my hand to anything.” + </p> + <p> + Garnache was satisfied. But he told Arsenio no more that day, beyond + assuring him he would speak for him and let him know upon the morrow. Nor + on the morrow, when they returned to the subject at Arsenio’s eager + demand, did Garnache tell him all, or even that the service was + mademoiselle’s. Instead he pretended that it was some one in Grenoble who + needed two such men as they. + </p> + <p> + “Word has been brought me,” he said mysteriously. “You must not ask me + how.” + </p> + <p> + “But how the devil are we to reach Grenoble? The Captain will never let us + go,” said Arsenio, in an ill-humour. + </p> + <p> + “On the night that you are of the watch, Arsenio, we will depart together + without asking the Captain’s leave. You shall open the postern when I come + to join you here in the courtyard.” + </p> + <p> + “But what of the man at the door yonder?” And he jerked his thumb towards + the tower where mademoiselle was a captive, and where at night “Battista” + was locked in with her. At the door leading to the courtyard a sentry was + always posted for greater security. That door and that sentry were + obstacles which Garnache saw the futility of attempting to overcome + without aid. That was why he had been forced to enlist Arsenio’s + assistance. + </p> + <p> + “You must account for him, Arsenio,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Thus?” inquired Arsenio coolly, and he passed the edge of his hand + significantly across his throat. Garnache shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said he; “there will be no need for that. A blow over the head will + suffice. Besides, it may be quieter. You will find the key of the tower in + his belt. When you have felled him, get it and unlock the door; then + whistle for me. The rest will be easy.” + </p> + <p> + “You are sure he has the key?” + </p> + <p> + “I have it from madame herself. They were forced to leave it with him to + provide for emergencies. Mademoiselle’s attempted escape by the window + showed them the necessity for it.” He did not add that it was the implicit + confidence they reposed in “Battista” himself that had overcome their + reluctance to leave the key with the sentry. + </p> + <p> + To seal the bargain, and in earnest of all the gold to come, Garnache gave + Arsenio a couple of gold louis as a loan to be repaid him when their + nameless employer should pay him his fifty pistoles in Grenoble. + </p> + <p> + The sight and touch of the gold convinced Arsenio that the thing was no + dream. He told Garnache that he believed he would be on guard-duty on the + night of the following Wednesday—this was Friday—and so for + Wednesday next they left the execution of their plans unless, meantime, a + change should be effected in the disposition of the sentries. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. THE COURIER + </h2> + <p> + Monsieur de Garnache was pleased with the issue of his little affair with + Arsenio. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle,” he told Valerie that evening, “I was right to have faith + in my luck, right to believe that the tide of it is flowing. All we need + now is a little patience; everything has become easy.” + </p> + <p> + It was the hour of supper. Valerie was at table in her anteroom, and + “Battista” was in attendance. It was an added duty they had imposed upon + him, for, since her attempt to escape, mademoiselle’s imprisonment had + been rendered more rigorous than ever. No servant of the chateau was + allowed past the door of the outer anteroom, now commonly spoken of as the + guardroom of the tower. Valerie dined daily in the salon with Madame de + Condillac and Marius, but her other meals were served her in her own + apartments. The servants who brought the meals from the kitchen delivered + them to “Battista” in the guardroom, and he it was who laid the cloth and + waited upon mademoiselle. At first this added duty had irritated him more + than all that he had so far endured. Had he Martin Marie Rigobert de + Garnache lived to discharge the duties of a lackey, to bear dishes to a + lady’s table and to remain at hand to serve her? The very thought had all + but set him in a rage. But presently he grew reconciled to it. It afforded + him particular opportunities of being in mademoiselle’s presence and of + conferring with her; and for the sake of such an advantage he might well + belittle the unsavoury part of the affair. + </p> + <p> + A half-dozen candles burned in two gleaming silver sconces on the table; + in her tall-backed leather chair mademoiselle sat, and ate and drank but + little, while Garnache told her of the preparations he had made. + </p> + <p> + “If my luck but holds until Wednesday next,” he concluded, “you may count + upon being well out of Condillac. Arsenio does not dream that you come + with us, so that even should he change his mind, at least we have no cause + to fear a betrayal. But he will not change his mind. The prospect of fifty + pistoles has rendered it immutable.” + </p> + <p> + She looked up at him with eyes brightened by hope and by the encouragement + to count upon success which she gathered from his optimism. + </p> + <p> + “You have contrived it marvellously well,” she praised him. “If we succeed—” + </p> + <p> + “Say when we succeed, mademoiselle,” he laughingly corrected her. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then—when we shall have succeeded in leaving Condillac, + whither am I to go?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, with me, to Paris, as was determined. My man awaits me at Voiron + with money and horses. No further obstacle shall rise to hamper us once + our backs are turned upon the ugly walls of Condillac. The Queen shall + make you welcome and keep you safe until Monsieur Florimond comes to claim + his bride.” + </p> + <p> + She sipped her wine, then set down the glass and leaned her elbow on the + table, taking her chin in her fine white hand. “Madame tells me that he is + dead,” said she, and Garnache was shocked at the comparative calmness with + which she said it. He looked at her sharply from under his sooted brows. + Was she, after all, he wondered, no different from other women? Was she + cold and calculating, and had she as little heart as he had come to + believe was usual with her sex, that she could contemplate so calmly the + possibility of her lover being dead? He had thought her better, more + natural, more large-hearted and more pure. That had encouraged him to + stand by her in these straits of hers, no matter at what loss of dignity + to himself. It began to seem that his conclusions had been wrong. + </p> + <p> + His silence caused her to look up, and in his face she read something of + what was passing in his thoughts. She smiled rather wanly. + </p> + <p> + “You are thinking me heartless, Monsieur de Garnache?” + </p> + <p> + “I am thinking you—womanly.” + </p> + <p> + “The same thing, then, to your mind. Tell me, monsieur, do you know much + of women?” + </p> + <p> + “God forbid! I have found trouble enough in my life.” + </p> + <p> + “And you pass judgment thus upon a sex with which you have no + acquaintance?” + </p> + <p> + “Not by acquaintance only is it that we come to knowledge. There are ways + of learning other than by the road of experience. One may learn of dangers + by watching others perish. It is the fool who will be satisfied alone with + the knowledge that comes to him from what he undergoes himself.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very wise, monsieur,” said she demurely, so demurely that he + suspected her of laughing at him. “You were never wed?” + </p> + <p> + “Never, mademoiselle,” he answered stiffly, “nor ever in any danger of + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Must you, indeed, account it a danger?” + </p> + <p> + “A deadly peril, mademoiselle,” said he; whereupon they both laughed. + </p> + <p> + She pushed back her chair and rose slowly. Slowly she passed from the + table and stepped towards the window. Turning she set her back to it, and + faced him. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur de Garnache,” said she, “you are a good man, a true and noble + gentleman. I would that you thought a little better of us. All women are + not contemptible, believe me. I will pray that you may yet mate with one + who will prove to you the truth of what I say.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled gently, and shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “My child,” said he, “I am not half the noble fellow you account me. I + have a stubborn pride that stands me at times in the stead of virtue. It + was pride brought me back here, for instance. I could not brook the + laughter that would greet me in Paris did I confess that I was beaten by + the Dowager of Condillac. I tell you this to the end that, thinking less + well of me, you may spare me prayers which I should dread to see + fulfilled. I have told you before, mademoiselle, Heaven is likely to + answer the prayers of such a heart as yours.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet but a moment back you deemed me heartless,” she reminded him. + </p> + <p> + “You seemed so indifferent to the fate of Florimond de Condillac.” + </p> + <p> + “I must have seemed, then, what I am not,” she told him, “for I am far + from indifferent to Florimond’s fate. The truth is, monsieur, I do not + believe Madame de Condillac. Knowing me to be under a promise that naught + can prevail upon me to break, she would have me believe that nature has + dissolved the obligation for me. She thinks that were I persuaded of + Florimond’s death, I might turn an ear to the wooing of Marius. But she is + mistaken, utterly mistaken; and so I sought to convince her. My father + willed that I should wed Florimond. Florimond’s father had been his + dearest friend. I promised him that I would do his will, and by that + promise I am bound. But were Florimond indeed dead, and were I free to + choose, I should not choose Marius were he the only man in all the world.” + </p> + <p> + Garnache moved nearer to her. + </p> + <p> + “You speak,” said he, “as if you were indifferent in the matter of wedding + Florimond, whilst I understand that your letter to the Queen professed you + eager for the alliance. I may be impertinent, but, frankly, your attitude + puzzles me.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not indifferent,” she answered him, but calmly, without enthusiasm. + “Florimond and I were playmates, and as a little child I loved him and + admired him as I might have loved and admired a brother perhaps. He is + comely, honourable, and true. I believe he would be the kindest husband + ever woman had, and so I am content to give my life into his keeping. What + more can be needed?” + </p> + <p> + “Never ask me, mademoiselle; I am by no means an authority,” said he. “But + you appear to have been well schooled in a most excellent philosophy.” And + he laughed outright. She reddened under his amusement. + </p> + <p> + “It was thus my father taught me,” said she, in quieter tones; “and he was + the wisest man I ever knew, just as he was the noblest and the bravest.” + </p> + <p> + Garnache bowed his head. “God rest his soul!” said he with respectful + fervour. + </p> + <p> + “Amen,” the girl replied, and they fell silent. + </p> + <p> + Presently she returned to the subject of her betrothed. + </p> + <p> + “If Florimond is living, this prolonged absence, this lack of news is very + strange. It is three months since last we heard of him—four months, + indeed. Yet he must have been apprised of his father’s death, and that + should have occasioned his return.” + </p> + <p> + “Was he indeed apprised of it?” inquired Garnache. “Did you, yourself, + communicate the news to him?” + </p> + <p> + “I?” she cried. “But no, monsieur. We do not correspond.” + </p> + <p> + “That is a pity,” said Garnache, “for I believe that the knowledge of the + Marquis’s death was kept from him by his stepmother.” + </p> + <p> + “Mon Dieu!” she exclaimed, in horror. “Do you mean that he may still be in + ignorance of it?” + </p> + <p> + “Not that. A month ago a courier was dispatched to him by the + Queen-Mother. The last news of him some four months old, as you have said—reported + him at Milan in the service of Spain. Thither was the courier sent to find + him and to deliver him letters setting forth what was toward at + Condillac.” + </p> + <p> + “A month ago?” she said. “And still we have no word. I am full of fears + for him, monsieur.” + </p> + <p> + “And I,” said Garnache, “am full of hope that we shall have news of him at + any moment.” + </p> + <p> + That he was well justified of his hope was to be proven before they were + many days older. Meanwhile Garnache continued to play his part of gaoler + to the entire satisfaction and increased confidence of the Condillacs, + what time he waited patiently for the appointed night when it should be + his friend Arsenio’s turn to take the guard. + </p> + <p> + On that fateful Wednesday “Battista” sought out—as had now become + his invariable custom—his compatriot as soon as the time of his + noontide rest was come, the hour at which they dined at Condillac. He + found Arsenio sunning himself in the outer courtyard, for it seemed that + year that as the winter approached the warmth increased. Never could man + remember such a Saint Martin’s Summer as was this. + </p> + <p> + In so far as the matter of their impending flight was concerned, + “Battista” was as brief as he could be. + </p> + <p> + “Is all well?” he asked. “Shall you be on guard to-night?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. It is my watch from sunset till dawn. At what hour shall we be + stirring?” + </p> + <p> + Garnache pondered a moment, stroking that firm chin of his, on which the + erstwhile stubble had now grown into a straggling, unkempt beard—and + it plagued him not a little, for a close observer might have discovered + that it was of a lighter colour at the roots. His hair, too, was beginning + to lose its glossy blackness. It was turning dull, and presently, no + doubt, it would begin to pale, so that it was high time he spread his + wings and took flight from Condillac. + </p> + <p> + “We had best wait until midnight. It will give them time to be soundly in + their slumbers. Though, should there be signs of any one stirring even + then, you had better wait till later. It were foolish to risk having our + going prevented for the sake of leaving a half-hour earlier.” + </p> + <p> + “Depend upon me,” Arsenio answered him. “When I open the door of your + tower I shall whistle to you. The key of the postern hangs on the + guardroom wall. I shall possess myself of that before I come.” + </p> + <p> + “Good,” said Garnache, “we understand each other.” + </p> + <p> + And on that they might have parted there and then, but that there happened + in that moment a commotion at the gate. Men hurried from the guardhouse, + and Fortunio’s voice sounded loud in command. A horseman had galloped up + to Condillac, walked his horse across the bridge—which was raised + only at night—and was knocking with the butt of his whip an + imperative summons upon the timbers of the gate. + </p> + <p> + By Fortunio’s orders it was opened, and a man covered with dust, astride a + weary, foam-flecked horse, rode under the archway of the keep into the + first courtyard of the chateau. + </p> + <p> + Garnache eyed him in surprise and inquiry, and he read in the man’s + appearance that he was a courier. The horseman had halted within a few + paces of the spot where “Battista” and his companion stood, and seeing in + the vilely clad Garnache a member of the Condillac household, he flung him + his reins, then got down stiffly from his horse. + </p> + <p> + Fortunio, bristling with importance, his left hand on the hilt of his + rapier, the fingers of his right twirling at his long fair mustachios, at + once confronted him and craved his business. + </p> + <p> + “I am the bearer of letters for Madame the Dowager Marquise de Condillac,” + was the reply; whereupon, with an arrogant nod, Fortunio bade the fellow + go with him, and issued an order that his horse should be cared for. + </p> + <p> + Arsenio was speaking in Garnache’s ear. The man’s nature was inquisitive, + and he was indulging idle conjectures as to what might be the news this + courier brought. Garnache’s mind, actuated by very different motives, was + engaged upon the same task, so much so that not a word heard he of what + his supposed compatriot was whispering. Whence came this courier? Why had + not that fool Fortunio asked him, so that Garnache might have overheard + his answer? Was he from Paris and the Queen, or was he, perchance, from + Italy and Florimond? These were questions to which it imported him to have + the answers. He must know what letters the fellow brought. The knowledge + might guide him now; might even cause him to alter the plans he had + formed. + </p> + <p> + He stood in thought whilst, unheeded by him, Arsenio prattled at his + elbow. He bethought him of the old minstrel’s gallery at the end of the + hall in which the Condillacs were dining and whither the courier would be + conducted. He knew the way to that gallery, for he had made a very close + study of the chateau against the time when he might find himself in need + of the knowledge. + </p> + <p> + With a hurried excuse to Arsenio he moved away, and, looking round to see + that he was unobserved, he was on the point of making his way to the + gallery when suddenly he checked himself. What went he there to do? To + play the spy? To become fellow to the lackey who listens at keyholes? Ah, + no! That was something no service could demand of him. He might owe a duty + to the Queen, but there was also a duty that he owed himself, and this + duty forbade him from going to such extremes. Thus spake his Pride, and he + mistook its voice for that of Honour. Betide what might, it was not for + Garnache to play the eavesdropper. Not that, Pardieu! + </p> + <p> + And so he turned away, his desires in conflict with that pride of his, and + gloomily he paced the courtyard, Arsenio marvelling what might have come + to him. And well was it for him that pride should have detained him; well + would it seem as if his luck were indeed in the ascendant and had prompted + his pride to save him from a deadly peril. For suddenly some one called + “Battista!” + </p> + <p> + He heard, but for the moment, absorbed as he was in his own musings, he + overlooked the fact that it was the name to which he answered at + Condillac. + </p> + <p> + Not until it was repeated more loudly, and imperatively, did he turn to + see Fortunio beckoning him. With a sudden dread anxiety, he stepped to the + captain’s side. Was he discovered? But Fortunio’s words set his doubts to + rest at once. + </p> + <p> + “You are to re-conduct Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye to her apartments at + once.” + </p> + <p> + Garnache bowed and followed the captain up the steps and into the chateau + that he might carry out the order; and as he went he shrewdly guessed that + it was the arrival of that courier had occasioned the sudden removal of + mademoiselle. + </p> + <p> + When they were alone together—he and she—in her anteroom in + the Northern Tower, she turned to him before he had time to question her + as he was intending. + </p> + <p> + “A courier has arrived,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “I know; I saw him in the courtyard. Whence is he? Did you learn it?” + </p> + <p> + “From Florimond.” She was white with agitation. + </p> + <p> + “From the Marquis de Condillac?” he cried, and he knew not whether to hope + or fear. “From Italy?” + </p> + <p> + “No, monsieur. I do not think from Italy. From what was said I gathered + that Florimond is already on his way to Condillac. Oh, it made a fine + stir. It left them no more appetite for dinner, and they seem to have + thought it could have left me none for mine, for they ordered my instant + return to my apartments.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you know nothing—save that the courier is from the Marquis?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing; nor am I likely to,” she answered, and her arms dropped limply + to her sides, her eyes looked entreatingly up into his gloomy face. + </p> + <p> + But Garnache could do no more than rap out an oath. Then he stood still a + moment, his eyes on the window, his chin in his hand, brooding. His pride + and his desire to know more of that courier’s message were fighting it out + again in his mind, just as they fought it out in the courtyard below. + Suddenly his glance fell on her, standing there, so sweet, so frail, and + so disconsolate. For her sake he must do the thing, repulsive though it + might be. + </p> + <p> + “I must know more,” he exclaimed. “I must learn Florimond’s whereabouts, + if only that we may go to meet him when we leave Condillac to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “You have arranged definitely for that?” she asked, her face lighting. + </p> + <p> + “All is in readiness,” he assured her. Then, lowering his voice without + apparent reason, and speaking quickly and intently, “I must go find out + what I can,” he said. “There may be a risk, but it is as nothing to the + risk we run of blundering matters through ignorance of what may be afoot. + Should any one come—which is unlikely, for all those interested will + be in the hall until the courier is dealt with—and should they + inquire into my absence, you are to know nothing of it since you have no + Italian and I no French. All that you will know will be that you believe I + went but a moment since to fetch water. You understand?” + </p> + <p> + She nodded. + </p> + <p> + “Then lock yourself in your chamber till I return.” + </p> + <p> + He caught up a large earthenware vessel in which water was kept for his + own and mademoiselle’s use, emptied it through the guard-room window into + the moat below, then left the room and made his way down the steps to the + courtyard. + </p> + <p> + He peered out. Not a soul was in sight. This inner courtyard was little + tenanted at that time of day, and the sentry at the door of the tower was + only placed there at nightfall. Alongside this there stood another door, + opening into a passage from which access might be gained to any part of + the chateau. Thrusting behind that door the earthenware vessel that he + carried, Garnache sped swiftly down the corridor on his eavesdropping + errand. Still his mind was in conflict. At times he cursed his slowness, + at times his haste and readiness to undertake so dirty a business, wishing + all women at the devil since by the work of women was he put to such a + shift as this. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. FLORIMOND’S LETTER + </h2> + <p> + In the great hall of Condillac, where the Marquise, her son, and + Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye had been at dinner, a sudden confusion had + been spread by the arrival of that courier so soon as it was known that he + bore letters from Florimond, Marquis de Condillac. + </p> + <p> + Madame had risen hastily, fear and defiance blending in her face, and she + had at once commanded mademoiselle’s withdrawal. Valerie had wondered + might there not be letters—or, leastways, messages—for herself + from her betrothed. But her pride had suppressed the eager question that + welled up to her lips. She would, too, have questioned the courier + concerning Florimond’s health; she would have asked him how the Marquis + looked, and where the messenger had left him. But of all this that she + craved to know, nothing could she bring herself to ask before the + Marquise. + </p> + <p> + She rose in silence upon hearing the Dowager order Fortunio to summon + Battista that he might re-conduct mademoiselle to her apartments, and she + moved a few paces down the hall, towards the door, in proud, submissive + readiness to depart. Yet she could not keep her eyes from the dust-stained + courier, who, having flung his hat and whip upon the floor, was now + opening his wallet, the Dowager standing before him to receive his papers. + </p> + <p> + Marius, affecting an insouciance he did not feel, remained at table, his + page behind his chair, his hound stretched at his feet; and he now sipped + his wine, now held it to the light that he might observe the beauty of its + deep red colour. + </p> + <p> + At last Fortunio returned, and mademoiselle took her departure, head in + the air and outwardly seeming nowise concerned in what was taking place. + With her went Fortunio. And the Marquise, who now held the package she had + received from the courier, bade the page depart also. + </p> + <p> + When the three were at last alone, she paused before opening the letter + and turned again to the messenger. She made a brave figure in the flood of + sunlight that poured through the gules and azures of the long blazoned + windows, her tall, lissome figure clad in a close-fitting robe of black + velvet, her abundant glossy black hair rolled back under its white coif, + her black eyes and scarlet lips detaching from the ivory of her face, in + which no trace of emotion showed, for all the anxiety that consumed her. + </p> + <p> + “Where left you the Marquis de Condillac?” she asked the fellow. + </p> + <p> + “At La Rochette, madame,” the courier answered,’ and his answer brought + Marius to his feet with an oath. + </p> + <p> + “So near?” he cried out. But the Dowager’s glance remained calm and + untroubled. + </p> + <p> + “How does it happen that he did not hasten himself, to Condillac?” she + asked. + </p> + <p> + “I do not know, madame. I did not see Monsieur le Marquis. It was his + servant brought me that letter with orders to ride hither.” + </p> + <p> + Marius approached his mother, his brow clouded. + </p> + <p> + “Let us see what he says,” he suggested anxiously. But his mother did not + heed him. She stood balancing the package in her hand. + </p> + <p> + “Can you tell us, then, nothing of Monsieur le Marquis?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing more than I have told you, madame.” + </p> + <p> + She bade Marius call Fortunio, and then dismissed the courier, bidding her + captain see to his refreshment. + </p> + <p> + Then, alone at last with her son, she hastily tore the covering from the + letter, unfolded it and read. And Marius, moved by anxiety, came to stand + beside and just behind her, where he too might read. The letter ran: + </p> + <p> + “MY VERY DEAR MARQUISE,—I do not doubt but that it will pleasure you + to hear that I am on my way home, and that but for a touch of fever that + has detained us here at La Rochette, I should be at Condillac as soon as + the messenger who is the bearer of these presents. A courier from Paris + found me a fortnight since in Milan, with letters setting forth that my + father had been dead six months, and that it was considered expedient at + Court that I should return home forthwith to assume the administration of + Condillac. I am lost in wonder that a communication of this nature should + have been addressed to me from Paris instead of from you, as surely it + must have been your duty to advise me of my father’s decease at the time + of that untoward event. I am cast down by grief at this evil news, and the + summons from Court has brought me in all haste from Milan. The lack of + news from Condillac has been for months a matter of surprise to me. My + father’s death may be some explanation of this, but scarcely explanation + enough. However, madame, I count upon it that you will be able to dispel + such doubts as I am fostering. I count too, upon being at Condillac by the + end of week, but I beg that neither you nor my dear Marius will allow this + circumstance to make any difference to yourselves, just as, although I am + returning to assume the government of Condillac as the Court has suggested + to me, I hope that yourself and my dear brother will continue to make it + your home for as long as it shall pleasure you. So long shall it pleasure + me. + </p> + <p> + “I am, my dear marquise, your very humble and very affectionate servant + and stepson, + </p> + <p> + “FLORIMOND” + </p> + <p> + When she had read to the end, the Dowager turned back and read aloud the + passage: “However, madame, I count upon it that you will be able to dispel + such doubts as I am fostering.” She looked at her son, who had shifted his + position, so that he was now confronting her. + </p> + <p> + “He has his suspicions that all is not as it should be,” sneered Marius. + </p> + <p> + “Yet his tone is amiable throughout. It cannot be that they said too much + in that letter from Paris.” A little trill of bitter laughter escaped her. + “We are to continue to make this our home for as long as it shall pleasure + us. So long shall it pleasure him!” + </p> + <p> + Then, with a sudden seriousness, she folded the letter and, putting her + hands behind her, looked up into her son’s face. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” she asked. “What are you going to do?” + </p> + <p> + “Strange that he makes no mention of Valerie” said Marius pensively. + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! A Condillac thinks lightly of his women. What are you going to do?” + </p> + <p> + His handsome countenance, so marvellously like her own, was overcast. He + looked gloomily at his mother for a moment; then with a slight twitch of + the shoulders he turned and moved past her slowly in the direction of the + hearth. He leaned his elbow on the overmantel and rested his brow against + his clenched right hand, and stood so awhile in moody thought. She watched + him, a frown between her arrogant eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Aye, ponder it,” said she. “He is at La Rochette, within a day’s ride, + and only detained there by a touch of fever. In any case he promises to be + here by the end of the week. By Saturday, then, Condillac will have passed + out of our power; it will be lost to you irretrievably. Will you lose La + Vauvraye as well?” + </p> + <p> + He let his hand fall to his side, and turned, fully to face her. + </p> + <p> + “What can I do? What can we do?” he asked, a shade of petulance in his + question. + </p> + <p> + She stepped close up to him and rested her hand lightly upon his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “You have had three months in which to woo that girl, and you have tarried + sadly over it, Marius. You have now at most three days in which to + accomplish it. What will you do?” + </p> + <p> + “I have been maladroit perhaps,” he said, with bitterness. “I have been + over-patient with her. I have counted too much upon the chance of + Florimond’s being dead, as seemed from the utter lack of news of him. Yet + what could I do? Carry her off by force and compel at the dagger’s point + some priest to marry us?” + </p> + <p> + She moved her hand from his shoulder and smiled, as if she derided him and + his heat. + </p> + <p> + “You want for invention, Marius,” said she. “And yet I beg that you will + exert your mind, or Sunday next shall find us well-nigh homeless. I’ll + take no charity from the Marquis de Condillac, nor, I think, will you.” + </p> + <p> + “If all fails,” said he, “we have still your house in Touraine.” + </p> + <p> + “My house?” she echoed, her voice shrill with scorn. “My hovel, you would + say. Could you abide there—in such a sty?” + </p> + <p> + “<i>Vertudieu</i>! If all else failed, we might be glad of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Glad of it? Not I, for one. Yet all else will fail unless you bestir + yourself in the next three days. Condillac is as good as lost to you + already, since Florimond is upon the threshold. La Vauvraye most certainly + will be lost to you as well unless you make haste to snatch it in the + little moment that is left you.” + </p> + <p> + “Can I achieve the impossible, madame?” he cried, and his impatience waxed + beneath this unreasonable insistence of his mother’s. + </p> + <p> + “Who asks it of you?” + </p> + <p> + “Do not you, madame?” + </p> + <p> + “I? Pish! All that I urge is that you take Valerie across the border into + Savoy where you can find a priest to marry you, and get it done this side + of Saturday.” + </p> + <p> + “And is not that the impossible? She will not go with me, as you well + know, madame.” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment’s silence. The Dowager shot him a glance; then her eyes + fell. Her bosom stirred as if some strange excitement moved her. Fear and + shame were her emotions; for a way she knew by which mademoiselle might be + induced to go with him—not only willingly, but eagerly, she thought—to + the altar. But she was his mother, and even her harsh nature shuddered + before the task of instructing him in this vile thing. Why had the fool + not wit enough to see it for himself? + </p> + <p> + Observing her silence Marius smiled sardonically. + </p> + <p> + “You may well ponder it,” said he. “It is an easy matter to tell me what I + should do. Tell me, rather, how it should be done.” + </p> + <p> + His blindness stirred her anger, and her anger whelmed her hesitation. + </p> + <p> + “Were I in your place, Marius, I should find a way,” said she, in a voice + utterly expressionless, her eyes averted ever from his own. + </p> + <p> + He scanned her curiously. Her agitation was plain to him, and it puzzled + him, as did the downcast glance of eyes usually so bold and insolent in + their gaze. Then he pondered her tone, so laden with expression by its + very expressionlessness, and suddenly a flood of light broke upon his + mind, revealing very clearly and hideously her meaning. He caught his + breath with a sudden gasp and blenched a little. Then his lips tightened + suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “In that case, madame,” he said, after a pause, and speaking as if he were + still without revelation of her meaning, “I can but regret that you are + not in my place. For, as it is, I am thinking we shall have to make the + best of the hovel in Touraine.” + </p> + <p> + She bit her lip in the intensity of her chagrin and shame. She was no + fool, nor did she imagine from his words that her meaning had been lost + upon him. She knew that he had understood, and that he chose to pretend + that he had not. She looked up suddenly, her dark eyes blazing, a splash + of colour in either cheek. + </p> + <p> + “Fool!” she snapped at him; “you lily-livered fool! Are you indeed my son? + Are you—by God!—that you talk so lightly of yielding?” She + advanced a step in his direction. “Through your cowardice you may be + content to spend your days in beggary; not so am I; nor shall I be, so + long as I have an arm and a voice. You may go hence if your courage fails + you outright; but I’ll throw up the bridge and entrench myself within + these walls. Florimond de Condillac sets no foot in here while I live; and + if he should come within range of musket-shot, it will be the worse for + him.” + </p> + <p> + “I think you are mad, madame—mad so to talk of resisting him, as you + are mad to call me coward. I’ll leave you till you are come to a more + tranquil frame of mind.” And turning upon his heel, his face on fire from + the lash of her contempt, he strode down the hall and passed out, leaving + her alone. + </p> + <p> + White again, with heaving bosom and clenched hands, she stood a moment + where he had left her, then dropped into a chair, and taking her chin in + her hand she rested her elbow on her knee. Thus she remained, the + firelight tinting her perfect profile, on which little might be read of + the storm that was raging in her soul. Another woman in her place would + have sought relief in tears, but tears came rarely to the beautiful eyes + of the Marquise de Condillac. + </p> + <p> + She sat there until the sun had passed from the windows behind her and the + corners of the room were lost in the quickening shadows. At last she was + disturbed by the entrance of a lackey, who announced that Monsieur le + Comte de Tressan, Lord Seneschal of Dauphiny, was come to Condillac. + </p> + <p> + She bade the fellow call help to clear the board, where still was set + their interrupted noontide meal, and then to admit the Seneschal. With her + back to the stirring, bustling servants she stood, pensively regarding the + flames, and a smile that was mocking rather than aught else spread upon + her face. + </p> + <p> + If all else failed her, she told herself, there would be no Touraine hovel + for her. She could always be Comtesse de Tressan. Let Marius work out + alone the punishment of his cowardice. + </p> + <p> + Away in the Northern Tower, where mademoiselle was lodged, she sat in + eager talk with Garnache, who had returned unobserved and successful from + his journey of espionage. + </p> + <p> + He had told her what from the conversation of Marius and his mother he had + learned touching the contents of that letter. Florimond lay as near as La + Rochette, detained there by a touch of fever, but promising to be at + Condillac by the end of the week. Since that was so, Valerie opined there + was no longer the need to put themselves to the trouble of the escape they + had planned. Let them wait until Florimond came. + </p> + <p> + But Garnache shook his head. He had heard more; and for all that he + accounted her at present safe from Marius, yet he made no false estimate + of that supple gentleman’s character, was not deluded by his momentary + show of niceness. As the time of Florimond’s arrival grew nearer, he + thought it very possible that Marius might be rendered desperate. There + was grave danger in remaining. He said naught of this, yet he convinced + mademoiselle that it were best to go. + </p> + <p> + “Though there will no longer be the need of a toilsome journey as far as + Paris,” he concluded. “A four hours’ ride to La Rochette, and you may + embrace your betrothed.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he speak of me in his letter, know you, monsieur?” she inquired. + </p> + <p> + “I heard them say that he did not,” Garnache replied. “But it may well be + that he had good reason. He may suspect more than he has written.” + </p> + <p> + “In that case,” she asked—and there was a wounded note in her voice—“Why + should a touch of fever keep him at La Rochette? Would a touch of fever + keep you from the woman you loved, monsieur, if you knew, or even + suspected, that she was in durance?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not know, mademoiselle. I am an old man who has never loved, and so + it would be unfair of me to pass judgment upon lovers. That they think not + as other folk is notorious; their minds are for the time disordered.” + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless he looked at her where she sat by the window, so gentle, so + lissome, so sweet, and so frail, and he had a shrewd notion that were he + Florimond de Condillac, whether he feared her in durance or not, not the + fever, nor the plague itself should keep him for the best part of a week + at La Rochette within easy ride of her. + </p> + <p> + She smiled gently at his words, and turned the conversation to the matter + that imported most. + </p> + <p> + “Tonight then, it is determined that we are to go?” + </p> + <p> + “At midnight or a little after. Be in readiness, mademoiselle, and do not + keep me waiting when I rap upon your door. Haste may be of importance.” + </p> + <p> + “You may count upon me, my friend,” she answered him, and stirred by a + sudden impulse she held out her hand. “You have been very good to me, + Monsieur de Garnache. You have made life very different for me since your + coming. I had it in my mind to blame you once for your rashness in + returning alone. I was a little fool. You can never know the peace that + has come to me from having you at hand. The fears, the terrors that + possessed me before you came have all been dispelled in this last week + that you have been my sentry in two senses.” + </p> + <p> + He took the hand she held out to him, and looked down at her out of his + grimy, disfigured face, an odd tenderness stirring him. He felt as might + have felt a father towards his daughter—at least, so thought he + then. + </p> + <p> + “Child,” he answered her, “you overrate it. I have done no less than I + could do, no more than any other would have done.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet more than Florimond has done—and he my betrothed. A touch of + fever was excuse enough to keep him at La Rochette, whilst the peril of + death did not suffice to deter you from coming hither.” + </p> + <p> + “You forget, mademoiselle, that, maybe, he does not know your + circumstances.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe he does not,” said she, with a half-sigh. Then she looked up into + his face again. “I am sad at the thought of going, monsieur,” she + surprised him by saying. + </p> + <p> + “Sad?” he cried. Then he laughed. “But what can there be to sadden you?” + </p> + <p> + “This, monsieur: that after to-night it is odds I shall never see you + more.” She said it without hesitation and without coquetry, for her + upbringing had been simple and natural in an atmosphere different far from + that in which had been reared the courtly women he had known. “You will + return to Paris and the great world, and I shall live out my life in this, + little corner of Dauphiny. You will forget me in the bustle of your + career, monsieur; but I shall always hold your memory very dear and very + gratefully. You are the only friend I have ever known since my father died + excepting Florimond, though it is so long since I have seen him, and he + never came to me in times of stress as you have done.” + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle,” he answered, touched despite himself more touched than he + could have believed possible to his callous, world-worn nature—“you + make me very proud; you make me feel a little better than I am, for if I + have earned your regard and friendship, there must be some good in old + Garnache. Believe me, mademoiselle, I too shall not forget.” + </p> + <p> + And thereafter they remained a spell in silence, she sitting by the + window, gazing out into the bright October sky, he standing by her chair, + thoughtfully considering her brown head so gracefully set upon her little + shoulders. A feeling came to him that was odd and unusual; he sought to + interpret it, and he supposed it to mean that he wished that at some time + in the dim past he might have married some woman who would have borne him + for daughter such a one as this. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. THE CONFERENCE + </h2> + <p> + The matter that brought Monsieur de Tressan to Condillac—and brought + him in most fearful haste—was the matter of the courier who had that + day arrived at the chateau. + </p> + <p> + News of it had reached the ears of my Lord Seneschal. His mind had been a + prey to uneasiness concerning this business of rebellion in which he had + so rashly lent a hand, and he was anxious to know whence came this courier + and what news he brought. But for all his haste he had paused—remembering + it was the Marquise he went to visit—to don the gorgeous yellow suit + with the hanging sleeves which he had had from Paris, and the crimson sash + he had bought at Taillemant’s, all in the very latest mode. + </p> + <p> + Thus arrayed, his wig well curled and a clump of it caught in ribbon of + flame-coloured silk on the left side, his sword hanging from belt and + carriages richly wrought with gold, and the general courtier-like effect + rather marred by the heavy riding-boots which he would have liked to leave + behind yet was constrained to wear, he presented himself before the + Dowager, hiding his anxiety in a melting smile, and the latter in the + profoundest of bows. + </p> + <p> + The graciousness of his reception overwhelmed him almost, for in his + supreme vanity he lacked the wit to see that this cordiality might be + dictated by no more than the need they had of him at Condillac. A lackey + placed a great chair for him by the fire that he might warm himself after + his evening ride, and the Dowager, having ordered lights, sat herself + opposite him with the hearth between them. + </p> + <p> + He simpered awhile and toyed with trivialities of speech before he gave + utterance to the matter that absorbed him. Then, at last, when they were + alone, he loosed the question that was bubbling on his lips. + </p> + <p> + “I hear a courier came to Condillac to-day.” + </p> + <p> + For answer she told him what he sought to learn, whence came that courier, + and what the message that he brought. + </p> + <p> + “And so, Monsieur de Tressan,” she ended, “my days at Condillac are + numbered.” + </p> + <p> + “Why so?” he asked, “since you say that Florimond has adopted towards you + a friendly tone. Surely he would not drive his father’s widow hence?” + </p> + <p> + She smiled at the fire in a dreamy, pensive manner. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said she, “he would not drive me hence. He has offered me the + shelter of Condillac for as long as it may pleasure me to make it my + home.” + </p> + <p> + “Excellent!” he exclaimed, rubbing his little fat hands and screwing the + little features of his huge red face into the grotesque semblance of a + smile. “What need to talk of going, then?” + </p> + <p> + “What need?” she echoed, in a voice dull and concentrated. “Do you ask + that, Tressan? Do you think I should elect to live upon the charity of + this man?” + </p> + <p> + For all that the Lord Seneschal may have been dull-witted, yet he had wit + enough to penetrate to the very marrow of her meaning. + </p> + <p> + “You must hate Florimond very bitterly,” said he. She shrugged her + shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “I possess, I think, the faculty of feeling strongly. I can love well, + monsieur, and I can hate well. It is one or the other with me. And as + cordially as I love my own son Marius, as cordially do I detest this + coxcomb Florimond.” + </p> + <p> + She expressed no reasons for her hatred of her late husband’s elder son. + Hers were not reasons that could easily be put into words. They were + little reasons, trivial grains of offence which through long years had + accumulated into a mountain. They had their beginning in the foolish + grievance that had its birth with her own son, when she had realized that + but for that rosy-cheeked, well-grown boy borne to the Marquis by his + first wife, Marius would have been heir to Condillac. Her love of her own + child and her ambitions for him, her keen desire to see him fill an + exalted position in the world, caused her a thousand times a day to wish + his half-brother dead. Yet Florimond had flourished and grown, and as he + grew he manifested a character which, with all its imperfections, was more + lovable than the nature of her own offspring. And their common father had + never seen aught but the faults of Marius and the virtues of Florimond. + She had resented this, and Marius had resented it; and Marius, having + inherited with his mother’s beauty his mother’s arrogant, dominant spirit, + had returned with insolence such admonitions as from time to time his + father gave him, and thus the breach had grown. Later, since he could not + be heir to Condillac, the Marquise’s eyes, greedy of advancement for him, + had fallen covetously upon the richer La Vauvraye, whose lord had then no + son, whose heiress was a little girl. + </p> + <p> + By an alliance easy to compass, since the lords of Condillac and La + Vauvraye were lifelong friends, Marius’s fortunes might handsomely have + been mended. Yet when she herself bore the suggestion of it to the + Marquis, he had seized upon it, approved it, but adopted it for + Florimond’s benefit instead. + </p> + <p> + Thereafter war had raged fiercely in the family of Condillac—a war + between the Marquis and Florimond on the one side, and the Marquise and + Marius on the other. And so bitterly was it waged that it was by the old + Marquis’s suggestion that at last Florimond had gone upon his travels to + see the world and carry arms in foreign service. + </p> + <p> + Her hopes that he would take his death, as was a common thing when + warring, rose high—so high as to become almost assurance, a thing to + be reckoned with. Florimond would return no more, and her son should fill + the place to which he was entitled by his beauty of person and the high + mental gifts his doting mother saw in him. + </p> + <p> + Yet the months grew into years, and at long intervals full of hope for the + Marquise news came of Florimond, and the news was ever that he was well + and thriving, gathering honours and drinking deep of life. + </p> + <p> + And now, at last, when matters seemed to have been tumbled into her lap + that she might dispose of them as she listed; now, when in her anxiety to + see her son supplant his step-brother in the possession of La Vauvraye—if + not, perhaps, in that of Condillac as well she had done a rashness which + might end in making her and Marius outlaws, news came that this hated + Florimond was at the door; tardily returned, yet returned in time to + overthrow her schemes and to make her son the pauper that her husband’s + will had seemed to aim at rendering him. + </p> + <p> + Her mind skimmed lightly over all these matters, seeking somewhere some + wrong that should stand out stark and glaring, upon which she might seize, + and offer it to the Seneschal as an explanation of her hatred. But nowhere + could she find the thing she sought. Her hatred had for foundation a + material too impalpable to be fashioned into words. Tressan’s voice + aroused her from her thoughts. + </p> + <p> + “Have you laid no plans, madame?” he asked her. “It were surely a madness + now to attempt to withstand the Marquis.” + </p> + <p> + “The Marquis? Ah yes—Florimond.” She sat forward out of the shadows + in which her great chair enveloped her, and let candle and firelight play + about the matchless beauty of her perfect face. There was a flush upon it, + the flush of battle; and she was about to tell the Seneschal that not + while one stone of Condillac should stand upon another, not while a gasp + of breath remained in her frail body, would she surrender. But she checked + her rashness. Well might it be that in the end she should abandon such a + purpose. Tressan was ugly as a toad, the most absurd, ridiculous + bridegroom that ever led woman to the altar. Yet rumour ran that he was + rich, and as a last resource, for the sake of his possessions she might + bring herself to endure his signal shortcomings. + </p> + <p> + “I have taken no resolve as yet,” said she, in a wistful voice. “I founded + hopes upon Marius which Marius threatens to frustrate. I think I had best + resign myself to the poverty of my Touraine home.” + </p> + <p> + And then the Seneschal realized that the time was now. The opportunity he + might have sought in vain was almost thrust upon him. In the spirit he + blessed Florimond for returning so opportunely; in the flesh he rose from + the chair and, without more ado, he cast himself upon his knees before the + Dowager. He cast himself down, and the Dowager experienced a faint + stirring of surprise that she heard no flop such as must attend the + violent falling of so fat a body. But the next instant, realizing the + purpose of his absurd posture, she shrank back with a faint gasp, and her + face was mercifully blurred to his sight once more amid the shadows of her + chair. Thus was he spared the look of utter loathing, of unconquerable, + irrepressible disgust that leapt into her countenance. + </p> + <p> + His voice quivered with ridiculous emotion, his little fat red fingers + trembled as he outheld them in a theatrical gesture of supplication. + </p> + <p> + “Never contemplate poverty, madame, until you have discarded me,” he + implored her. “Say but that you will, and you shall be lady of Tressan. + All that I have would prove but poor adornment to a beauty such as yours, + and I should shrink from offering it you, were it not that, with it all, I + can offer you the fondest heart in France. Marquise—Clotilde, I cast + myself humbly at your feet. Do with me as you will. I love you.” + </p> + <p> + By an effort she crushed down her loathing of him—a loathing that + grew a hundredfold as she beheld him now transformed by his amorousness + into the semblance almost of a satyr—and listened to his foolish + rantings. + </p> + <p> + As Marquise de Condillac it hurt her pride to listen and not have him + whipped for his audacity; as a woman it insulted her. Yet the Marquise and + the woman she alike repressed. She would give him no answer—she + could not, so near was she to fainting with disdain of him—yet must + she give him hope against the time when, should all else fail, she might + have to swallow the bitter draught he was now holding to her lips. So she + temporized. + </p> + <p> + She controlled her voice into a tone of gentle sadness; she set a mask of + sorrow upon her insolent face. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, monsieur,” she sighed, and so far overcame her nausea as for an + instant to touch his hand in a little gesture of caress, “you must not + speak so to a widow of six months, nor must I listen.” + </p> + <p> + The quivering grew in his hands and voice; but no longer did they shake + through fear of a rebuff: they trembled now in the eager strength of the + hope he gathered from her words. She was so beautiful, so peerless, so + noble, so proud—and he so utterly unworthy—that naught but her + plight had given him courage to utter his proposal. And she answered him + in such terms! + </p> + <p> + “You give me hope, Marquise? If I come again—?” + </p> + <p> + She sighed, and her face, which was once more within the light, showed a + look of sad inquiry. + </p> + <p> + “If I thought that what you have said, you have said out of pity, because + you fear lest my necessities should hurt me, I could give you no hope at + all. I have my pride, mon ami. But if what you have said you would still + have said though I had continued mistress of Condillac, then, Tressan, you + may repeat it to me hereafter, at a season when I may listen.” + </p> + <p> + His joy welled up and overflowed in him as overflows a river in time of + spate. + </p> + <p> + He bent forward, caught her hand, and bore it to his lips. + </p> + <p> + “Clotilde!” he cried, in a smothered voice; then the door opened, and + Marius stepped into the long chamber. + </p> + <p> + At the creaking sound of the opening door the Seneschal bestirred himself + to rise. Even the very young care not so to be surprised, how much less, + then, a man well past the prime of life? He came up laboriously—the + more laboriously by virtue of his very efforts to show himself still + nimble in his mistress’s eyes. Upon the intruder he turned a crimson, + furious face, perspiration gleaming like varnish on brow and nose. At + sight of Marius, who stood arrested, scowling villainously upon the pair, + the fire died suddenly from his glance. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my dear Marius,” said he, with a flourish and an air of being + mightily at his ease. But the young man’s eyes went over and beyond him to + rest in a look of scrutiny upon his mother. She had risen too, and he had + been in time to see the startled manner of her rising. In her cheeks there + was a guilty flush, but her eyes boldly met and threw back her son’s + regard. + </p> + <p> + Marius came slowly down the room, and no word was spoken. The Seneschal + cleared his throat with noisy nervousness. Madame stood hand on hip, the + flush fading slowly, her glance resuming its habitual lazy insolence. By + the fire Marius paused and kicked the logs into a blaze, regardless of the + delicate fabric of his rosetted shoes. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur le Seneschal,” said madame calmly, “came to see us in the matter + of the courier.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Marius, with an insolent lifting of his brows and a sidelong + look at Tressan; and Tressan registered in his heart a vow that when he + should have come to wed the mother, he would not forget to take payment + for that glance from her pert son. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur le Comte will remain and sup with us before riding back to + Grenoble,” she added. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said he again, in the same tone. And that for the moment was all he + said. He remained by the fire, standing between them where he had planted + himself in the flesh, as if to symbolize the attitude he intended in the + spirit. + </p> + <p> + But one chance he had, before supper was laid, of a word alone with his + mother, in her own closet. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” he said, his sternness mingling with alarm, “are you mad that + you encourage the suit of this hedgehog Tressan?” + </p> + <p> + She looked him up and down with a deliberate eye, her lip curling a + little. + </p> + <p> + “Surely, Marius, it is my own concern.” + </p> + <p> + “Not so,” he answered her, and his grasp fastened almost viciously on her + wrist. “I think that it is mine as well. Mother, bethink you,” and his + tone changed to an imploring key, “bethink you what you would do! Would + you—you—mate with such a thing as that?” + </p> + <p> + His emphasis of the pronoun was very eloquent. Not in all the words of the + French language could he have told her better how high he placed her in + his thoughts, how utterly she must fall, how unutterably be soiled by an + alliance with Tressan. + </p> + <p> + “I had hoped you would have saved me from it, Marius,” she answered him, + her eyes seeming to gaze down into the depths of his. “At La Vauvraye I + had hoped to live out my widowhood in tranquil dignity. But—” She + let her arms fall sharply to her sides, and uttered a little sneering + laugh. + </p> + <p> + “But, mother,” he cried, “between the dignity of La Vauvraye and the + indignity of Tressan, surely there is some middle course?” + </p> + <p> + “Aye,” she answered scornfully, “starvation on a dunghill in Touraine—or + something near akin to it, for which I have no stomach.” + </p> + <p> + He released her wrist and stood with bent head, clenching and unclenching + his long white hands, and she watched him, watching in him the working of + his proud and stubborn spirit. + </p> + <p> + “Mother,” he cried at last, and the word sounded absurd between them, by + so little did he seem the younger of the twain, “mother, you shall not do + it you must not!” + </p> + <p> + “You leave me little alternative—alas!” sighed she. “Had you been + more adroit you had been wed by now, Marius, and the future would give us + no concern. As it is, Florimond comes home, and we—” She spread her + hands and thrust out her nether lip in a grimace that was almost ugly. + Then: “Come,” she said briskly. “Supper is laid, and my Lord Seneschal + will be awaiting us.” + </p> + <p> + And before he could reply she had swept past him and taken her way below. + He followed gloomily, and in gloom sat he at table, never heeding the + reckless gaiety of the Seneschal and the forced mirth of the Marquise. He + well understood the sort of tacit bargain that his mother had made with + him. She had seen her advantage in his loathing of the proposed union with + Tressan, and she had used it to the full. Either he must compel Valerie to + wed him this side of Saturday or resign himself to see his mother—his + beautiful, peerless mother—married to this skin of lard that called + itself a man. + </p> + <p> + Living, he had never entertained for his father a son’s respect, nor, + dead, did he now reverence his memory as becomes a son. But in that hour, + as he sat at table, facing this gross wooer of his mother’s, his eyes were + raised to the portrait of the florid-visaged haughty Marquis de Condillac, + where it looked down upon them from the panelled wall, and from his soul + he offered up to that portrait of his dead sire an apology for the + successor whom his widow destined him. + </p> + <p> + He ate little, but drank great draughts, as men will when their mood is + sullen and dejected, and the heat of the wine, warming his veins and + lifting from him some of the gloom that had settled over him, lent him + anon a certain recklessness very different from the manner of his sober + moments. + </p> + <p> + Chancing suddenly to raise his eyes from the cup into which he had been + gazing, absorbed as gazes a seer into his crystal, he caught on the + Seneschal’s lips so odious a smile, in the man’s eyes so greedy, hateful a + leer as he bent them on the Marquise, that he had much ado not to alter + the expression of that flabby face by hurling at it the cup he held. + </p> + <p> + He curbed himself; he smiled sardonically upon the pair; and in that + moment he swore that be the cost what it might, he would frustrate the + union of those two. His thoughts flew to Valerie, and the road they took + was fouled with the mud of ugly deeds. A despair, grim at first, then + mocking, took possession of him. He loved Valerie to distraction. Loved + her for herself, apart from all worldly advantages that must accrue to him + from an alliance with her. His mother saw in that projected marriage no + more than the acquisition of the lands of La Vauvraye, and she may even + have thought that he himself saw no more. In that she was wrong; but + because of it she may have been justified of her impatience with him at + the tardiness, the very clumsiness with which he urged his suit. How was + she to know that it was just the sincerity of his passion made him clumsy? + For like many another, normally glib, self-assured, and graceful, Marius + grew halting, shy, and clumsy only where he loved. + </p> + <p> + But in the despair that took him now the quality of his passion seemed to + change. Partly it was the wine, partly the sight of this other lover—of + whom there must be an end—whose very glance seemed to him an insult + to his mother. His imagination had taken fire that night, and it had + ripened him for any villainy. The Seneschal and the wine, between them, + had opened the floodgates of all that was evil in his nature, and that + evil thundered out in a great torrent that bid fair to sweep all before + it. + </p> + <p> + And suddenly, unexpectedly for the others, who were by now resigned to his + moody silence, the evil found expression. The Marquise had spoken of + something—something of slight importance—that must be done + before Florimond returned. Abruptly Marius swung round in his seat to face + his mother. “Must this Florimond return?” he asked, and for all that he + uttered no more words, so ample in their expression were those four that + he had uttered and the tone of them, that his meaning left little work to + the imagination. + </p> + <p> + Madame turned to stare at him, surprise ineffable in her glance—not + at the thing that he suggested, but at the abruptness with which the + suggestion came. The cynical, sneering tone rang in her ears after the + words were spoken, and she looked in his face for a confirmation of their + full purport. + </p> + <p> + She observed the wine-flush on his cheek, the wine-glitter in his eye, and + she remarked the slight smile on his lips and the cynical assumption of + nonchalance with which he fingered the jewel in his ear as he returned her + gaze. She beheld now in her son a man more purposeful than she had ever + known before. + </p> + <p> + A tense silence had followed his words, and the Lord Seneschal gaped at + him, some of the colour fading from his plethoric countenance, suspecting + as he did the true drift of Marius’s suggestion. At last it was madame who + spoke—very softly, with a narrowing of the eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Call Fortunio,” was all she said, but Marius understood full well the + purpose for which she would have Fortunio called. + </p> + <p> + With a half-smile he rose, and going to the door he bade his page who was + idling in the anteroom go summon the captain. Then he paced slowly back, + not to the place he had lately occupied at table, but to the hearth, where + he took his stand with his shoulders squared to the overmantel. + </p> + <p> + Fortunio came, fair-haired and fresh-complexioned as a babe, his supple, + not ungraceful figure tawdrily clad in showy clothes of poor material the + worse for hard usage and spilt wine. The Countess bade him sit, and with + her own hands she poured a cup of Anjou for him. + </p> + <p> + In some wonder, and, for all his ordinary self-possession, with a little + awkwardness, the captain did her bidding, and with an apologetic air he + took the seat she offered him. + </p> + <p> + He drank this wine, and here was a spell of silence till Marius, grown + impatient, brutally put the thing for which the Marquise sought delicate + words. + </p> + <p> + “We have sent for you, Fortunio,” said he, in a blustering tone, “to + inquire of you what price you’d ask to cut the throat of my brother, the + Marquis de Condillac.” + </p> + <p> + The Seneschal sank back in his chair with a gasp. The captain, a frown + between his frank-seeming, wide-set eyes, started round to look at the + boy. The business was by no means too strong for the ruffler’s stomach, + but the words in which it was conveyed to him most emphatically were. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur de Condillac,” said he, with an odd assumption of dignity, “I + think you have mistaken your man. I am a soldier, not a cut-throat.” + </p> + <p> + “But yes,” the Marquise soothed him, throwing herself instantly into the + breach, and laying a long, slender hand upon the frayed green velvet of + the captain’s sleeve. “What my son means and what he says are vastly + different things.” + </p> + <p> + “It will sorely tax your wits, madame,” laughed Marius brutally, “to make + clear that difference.” + </p> + <p> + And then the Seneschal nervously cleared his throat and muttering that it + waxed late and he must be riding home, made shift to rise. Him, too, the + Marquise at once subdued. She was not minded that he should go just yet. + It might be useful to her hereafter to have had him present at this + conference, into which she meant to draw him until she should have made + him one with them, a party to their guilt. For the task she needed not + over many words: just one or two and a melting glance or so, and the + rebellion in his bosom was quelled at once. + </p> + <p> + But with the captain her wiles were not so readily successful. He had no + hopes of winning her to wife—haply no desire, since he was not a man + of very great ambitions. On the other hand, he had against him the very + worst record in France, and for all that he might embark upon this + business under the auspices of the Lord Seneschal himself, he knew not how + far the Lord Seneschal might dare to go thereafter to save him from a + hanging, should it come to that. + </p> + <p> + He said as much in words. In a business of this kind, he knew from + experience, the more difficulties he advanced, the better a bargain he + drove in the end; and if he was to be persuaded to risk his neck in this, + he should want good payment. But even for good payment on this occasion he + was none too sure as yet that he would let himself be persuaded. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur Fortunio,” the Marquise said, very softly, “heed not Monsieur + Marius’s words. Attend to me. The Marquis de Condillac, as no doubt you + will have learned for yourself, is lying at La Rochette. Now it happens + that he is noxious to us—let the reasons be what they may. We need a + friend to put him out of our way. Will you be that friend?” + </p> + <p> + “You will observe,” sneered Marius, “how wide a difference there is + between what the Marquise suggests and my own frank question of what price + you would take to cut my brother’s throat.” + </p> + <p> + “I observe no difference, which is what you would say,” Fortunio answered + truculently, his head well back, his brown eyes resentful of offence—for + none can be so resentful of imputed villainy as your villain who is + thorough-paced. “And,” he concluded, “I return you the same answer, madame—that + I am no cut-throat.” + </p> + <p> + She repressed her anger at Marius’s sneering interference, and made a + little gesture of dismay with her eloquent white hands. + </p> + <p> + “But we do not ask you to cut a throat.” + </p> + <p> + “I have heard amiss, then,” said he, his insolence abating nothing. + </p> + <p> + “You have heard aright, but you have understood amiss. There are other + ways of doing these things. If it were but the cutting of a throat, should + we have sent for you? There are a dozen in the garrison would have + sufficed for our purpose.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it, then, you need?” quoth he. + </p> + <p> + “We want an affair contrived with all decency. The Marquis is at the + Sanglier Noir at La Rochette. You can have no difficulty in finding him, + and having found him, less difficulty still in giving or provoking + insult.” + </p> + <p> + “Excellent,” murmured Marius from the background. “It is such an + enterprise as should please a ready swordsman of your calibre, Fortunio.” + </p> + <p> + “A duel?” quoth the fellow, and his insolence went out of him, thrust out + by sheer dismay; his mouth fell open. A duel was another affair + altogether. “But, Sangdieu! what if he should slay me? Have you thought of + that?” + </p> + <p> + “Slay you?” cried the Marquise, her eyes resting on his face with an + expression as of wonder at such a question. “You jest, Fortunio.” + </p> + <p> + “And he with the fever,” put in Marius, sneering. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” muttered Fortunio. “He has the fever? The fever is something. But—but—accidents + will happen.” + </p> + <p> + “Florimond was ever an indifferent swordsman,” murmured Marius dreamily, + as if communing with himself. + </p> + <p> + The captain wheeled upon him once more. + </p> + <p> + “Why, then, Monsieur Marius,” said he, “since that is so and you are + skilled—as skilled as am I, or more—and he has a fever, where + is the need to hire me to the task?” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” echoed Marius. “What affair may that be of yours? We ask you to + name a price on which you will do this thing. Have done with + counter-questions.” + </p> + <p> + Marius was skilled with the foils, as Fortunio said, but he cared not for + unbaited steel, and he was conscious of it, so that the captain’s + half-sneer had touched him on the raw. But he was foolish to take that + tone in answer. There was a truculent, Southern pride in the ruffler which + sprang immediately into life and which naught that they could say + thereafter would stamp out. + </p> + <p> + “Must I say again that you mistake your man?” was his retort, and as he + spoke he rose, as though to signify that the subject wearied him and that + his remaining to pursue it must be idle. “I am not of those to whom you + can say: ‘I need such a one killed, name me the price at which you’ll be + his butcher’.” + </p> + <p> + The Marquise wrung her hands in pretty mimicry of despair, and poured out + soothing words, as one might pour oil upon stormy waters. The Seneschal + sat in stolid silence, a half-scared spectator of this odd scene, what + time the Marquise talked and talked until she had brought Fortunio back to + some measure of subjection. + </p> + <p> + Such reasoning as she made use of she climaxed by an offer of no less a + sum than a hundred pistoles. The captain licked his lips and pulled at his + mustachios. For all his vaunted scorn of being a butcher at a price, now + that he heard the price he seemed not half so scornful. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me again the thing that you need doing and the manner of it,” said + he, as one who was moved to reconsider. She told him, and when she had + done he made a compromise. + </p> + <p> + “If I go upon this business, madame, I go not alone.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, as for that,” said Marius, “it shall be as you will. Take what men + you want with you.” + </p> + <p> + “And hang with them afterwards, maybe,” he sneered, his insolence + returning. “The hundred pistoles would avail me little then. Look you, + Monsieur de Condillac, and you, madame, if I go, I’ll need to take with me + a better hostage than the whole garrison of this place. I’ll need for + shield some one who will see to it that he is not hurt himself, just as I + shall see to it that he is hurt before I am.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean? Speak out, Fortunio,” the Marquise bade him. + </p> + <p> + “I mean, madame, that I will go, not to do this thing, but to stand by and + render help if help be needed. Let Monsieur de Condillac go, and I will go + with him, and I will undertake to see to it that he returns unhurt and + that we leave the other stark.” + </p> + <p> + Both started, and the Seneschal leaned heavily upon the table. He was not, + with all his faults, a man of blood, and this talk of butchery turned him + sick and faint. + </p> + <p> + Vainly now did the Marquise seek to alter the captain’s resolution; but in + this she received a sudden check from Marius himself. He cut in upon her + arguments to ask the captain: + </p> + <p> + “How can you promise so much? Do you mean that you and I must fall upon + him? You forget that he will have men about him. A duel is one thing, a + rough-and-tumble another, and we shall fare none so well in this, I’m + thinking.” + </p> + <p> + The captain closed one eye, and a leer of subtle cunning overspread his + face. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve thought of that,” said he. “Neither a duel nor a rough-and-tumble do + I propose, but something between the two; something that shall seem a duel + yet be a rough-and-tumble.” + </p> + <p> + “Explain yourself.” + </p> + <p> + “What further explanation does it ask? We come upon Monsieur le Marquis + where his men are not. We penetrate, let us say, into his chamber. I turn + the key in the door. We are alone with him and you provoke him. He is + angry, and must fight you there and then. I am your friend; I must fill + the office of second for both sides. You engage, and I stand aside and let + you fight it out. You say he is indifferently skilled with the sword, and, + in addition, that he has a fever. Thus you should contrive to put your + steel through him, and a duel it will have been. But if by luck or skill + he should have you in danger, I shall be at hand to flick in my sword at + the right moment and make an opening through which you may send yours + home.” + </p> + <p> + “Believe me it were better—” began the Dowager. But Marius, who of a + sudden was much taken with the notion, again broke in. + </p> + <p> + “Are you to be depended upon to make no mistake, Fortunio?” + </p> + <p> + “Per Bacco!” swore the ruffler. “A mistake must cost me a hundred + pistoles. I think you may depend upon me there. If I err at all, it will + be on the side of eagerness to see you make short work of him. You have my + answer now, monsieur. If we talk all night, you shall not move me further. + But if my proposal suits you, I am your man.” + </p> + <p> + “And I yours, Fortunio,” answered Marius, and there was a ring almost of + exultation in his voice. + </p> + <p> + The Dowager looked from one to the other, as if she were weighing the men + and satisfying herself that Marius ran no risk. She put a question or two + to her son, another to the captain; then, seeming satisfied with what had + been agreed, she nodded her head and told them they had best be stirring + with the dawn. + </p> + <p> + “You will have light enough by half-past six. Do not delay later in taking + the road. And see that you are back here by nightfall; I shall be anxious + till you are returned.” + </p> + <p> + She poured wine again for the captain, and Marius coming up to the table + filled himself a glass, which he tossed off. The Marquise was speaking to + Tressan. + </p> + <p> + “Will you not drink to the success of the venture?” she asked him, in a + coaxing tone, her eyes upon his own. “I think we are like to see the end + of our troubles now, monsieur, and Marius shall be lord both of Condillac + and La Vauvraye.” + </p> + <p> + And the gross, foolish Seneschal, under the spell of her magnificent eyes, + slowly raised his cup to his lips and drank to the success of that + murderous business. Marius stood still, a frown between his eyes haled + thither by the mention of La Vauvraye. He might be winning it, as his + mother said, but he would have preferred to have won it differently. Then + the frown was smoothed away; a sardonic smile replaced it; another cup of + wine he poured himself. Then, without word to any there, he turned on his + heel and went from the room, a trifle unsteady in his gait, yet with such + lines of purposefulness in the way he bore himself that the three of them + stared after him in dull surprise. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. THE UNEXPECTED + </h2> + <p> + In her apartments in the Northern Tower Valerie had supped, and—to + spare Monsieur de Garnache the full indignity of that part of the offices + he was charged with—she had herself removed the cloth and set the + things in the guard-room, where they might lie till morning. When that was + done—and despite her protests, Garnache had insisted upon lending a + hand—the Parisian reminded her that it was already after nine, and urged + her to make such preparations as incumbed her for their journey. + </p> + <p> + “My preparations are soon made,” she assured him with a smile. “I need but + what I may carry in a cloak.” + </p> + <p> + They fell to talking of their impending flight, and they laughed together + at the discomfiture that would be the Dowager’s and her son’s when, in the + morning, they came to discover the empty cage. From that they passed on to + talk of Valerie herself, of her earlier life at La Vauvraye, and later the + conversation shifted to Garnache, and she questioned him touching the + warring he had seen in early youth, and afterwards asked him for + particulars of Paris—that wonderful city which to her mind was the + only earthly parallel of Paradise—and of the life at Court. + </p> + <p> + Thus in intimate talk did they while away the time of waiting, and in the + hour that sped they came, perhaps, to know more of each other than they + had done hitherto. Intimate, indeed, had they unconsciously become + already. Their singular position, locked together in that tower—a + position utterly impossible under any but the conditions that attended it—had + conduced to that good-fellowship, whilst the girl’s trust and dependence + upon the man, the man’s observance of that trust, and his determination to + show her that it had not been misplaced, had done the rest. + </p> + <p> + But to-night they seemed to have drawn nearer in spirit to each other, and + that, maybe, it was that prompted Valerie to sigh, and in her sweet, + unthinking innocence to say again: + </p> + <p> + “I am truly sorry, Monsieur de Garnache, that our sojourn here is coming + to an end.” + </p> + <p> + He was no coxcomb, and he set no false value on the words. He laughed for + answer, as he rejoined: + </p> + <p> + “Not so am I, mademoiselle. Nor shall I know peace of mind again until + this ill-omened chateau is a good three leagues or so behind us. Sh! What + was that?” + </p> + <p> + He came instantly to his feet, his face intent and serious. He had been + sitting at his ease in an armchair, over the back of which he had tossed + the baldric from which his sword depended. The clang of the heavy door + below, striking the wall as it was pushed open, had reached his ears. + </p> + <p> + “Can it be time already?” asked mademoiselle; yet a panic took her, and + she blenched a little. + </p> + <p> + He shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “Impossible,” said he; “it is not more than ten o’clock. Unless that fool + Arsenio has blundered—” He stopped. “Sh!” he whispered. “Some one is + coming here.” + </p> + <p> + And suddenly he realized the peril that might lie in being found thus in + her company. It alarmed him more than did the visit itself, so unusual at + this hour. He saw that he had not time to reach the guard-room; he would + be caught in the act of coming forth, and that might be interpreted by the + Dowager or her son—if it should happen to be one or the other of + them—as a hurried act of flight such as guilt might prompt. Perhaps + he exaggerated the risk; but their fortunes at Condillac had reached a + point where they must not be jeopardized by any chance however slight. + </p> + <p> + “To your chamber, mademoiselle,” he whispered fearfully, and he pointed to + the door of the inner room. “Lock yourself in. Quick! Sh!” And he signed + frantically to her to go silently. + </p> + <p> + Swift and quietly as a mouse she glided from the room and softly closed + the door of her chamber and turned the key in a lock, which Garnache had + had the foresight to keep well oiled. He breathed more freely when it was + done. + </p> + <p> + A step sounded in the guard-room. He sank without a rustle into the chair + from which he had risen, rested his head against the back of it, closed + his eyes, opened his mouth, and dissembled sleep. + </p> + <p> + The steps came swiftly across the guard-room floor, soft, as of one + lightly shod; and Garnache wondered was it the mother or the son, just as + he wondered what this ill-come visitor might be seeking. + </p> + <p> + The door of the antechamber was pushed gently open—it had stood ajar—and + under the lintel appeared the slender figure of Marius, still in his brown + velvet suit as Garnache last had seen him. He paused a moment to peer into + the chamber. Then he stepped forward, frowning to behold “Battista” so + cosily ensconced. + </p> + <p> + “Ola there!” he cried, and kicked the sentry’s outstretched legs, the more + speedily to wake him. “Is this the watch you keep?” + </p> + <p> + Garnache opened his eyes and stared a second dully at the disturber of his + feigned slumbers. Then, as if being more fully awakened he recognized his + master, he heaved himself suddenly to his feet and bowed. + </p> + <p> + “Is this the watch you keep?” quoth Marius again, and Garnache, scanning + the youth’s face with foolishly smiling eyes, noted the flush on his + cheek, the odd glitter in his handsome eyes, and even caught a whiff of + wine upon his breath. Alarm grew in Garnache’s mind, but his face + maintained its foolish vacancy, its inane smile. He bowed again and, with + a wave of the hands towards the inner chamber, + </p> + <p> + “La damigella a la,” said he. + </p> + <p> + For all that Marius had no Italian he understood the drift of the words, + assisted as they were by the man’s expressive gesture. He sneered cruelly. + </p> + <p> + “It would be an ugly thing for you, my ugly friend, if she were not,” he + answered. “Away with you. I shall call you when I need you.” And he + pointed to the door. + </p> + <p> + Garnache experienced some dismay, some fear even. He plied his wits, and + he determined that he had best seem to apprehend from his gestures + Marius’s meaning; but apprehend it in part only, and go no further than + the other side of that door. + </p> + <p> + He bowed, therefore, for the third time, and with another of his foolish + grins he shuffled out of the chamber, pulling the door after him, so that + Marius should not see how near at hand he stayed. + </p> + <p> + Marius, without further heeding him, stepped to mademoiselle’s door and + rapped on a panel with brisk knuckles. + </p> + <p> + “Who is there?” she inquired from within. + </p> + <p> + “It is I—Marius. Open, I have something I must say to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Will it not keep till morning?” + </p> + <p> + “I shall be gone by then,” he answered impatiently, “and much depends upon + my seeing you ere I go. So open. Come!” + </p> + <p> + There followed a pause, and Garnache in the outer room set his teeth and + prayed she might not anger Marius. He must be handled skillfully, lest + their flight should be frustrated at the last moment. He prayed, too, that + there might be no need for his intervention. That would indeed be the end + of all—a shipwreck within sight of harbour. He promised himself that + he would not lightly intervene. For the rest this news of Marius’s + intended departure filled him with a desire to know something of the + journey on which he was bound: + </p> + <p> + Slowly mademoiselle’s door opened. White and timid she appeared. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want, Marius?” + </p> + <p> + “Now and always and above all things the sight of you, Valerie,” said he, + and the flushed cheek, the glittering eye, and wine-laden breath were as + plain to her as they had been to Garnache, and they filled her with a + deeper terror. Nevertheless she came forth at his bidding. + </p> + <p> + “I see that you were not yet abed,” said he. “It is as well. We must have + a talk.” He set a chair for her and begged her to be seated; then he + perched himself on the table, his hands gripping the edges of it on either + side of him, and he turned his eyes upon her. + </p> + <p> + “Valerie,” he said slowly, “the Marquis de Condillac, my brother, is at La + Rochette.” + </p> + <p> + “He is coming home!” she cried, clasping her hands and feigning surprise + in word and glance. + </p> + <p> + Marius shook his head and smiled grimly. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said he. “He is not coming home. That is—not unless you wish + it.” + </p> + <p> + “Not unless I wish it? But naturally I wish it!” + </p> + <p> + “Then, Valerie, if you would have what you wish, so must I. If Florimond + is ever to come to Condillac again, you must be my wife.” + </p> + <p> + He leaned towards her now, supported by his elbow, so that his face was + close to hers, a deeper flush upon it, a brighter glitter in his black + eyes, his vinous breath enveloping and suffocating her. She shrank back, + her hands locking themselves one in the other till the knuckles showed + white. + </p> + <p> + “What—what is it you mean?” she faltered. + </p> + <p> + “No more than I have said; no less. If you love him well enough to + sacrifice yourself,” and his lips curled sardonically at the word, “then + marry me and save him from his doom.” + </p> + <p> + “What doom?” Her voice came mechanically, her lips seeming scarce to move. + </p> + <p> + He swung down from the table and stood before her. + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you,” he said, in a voice very full of promise. “I love you, + Valerie, above all else on earth or, I think, in heaven; and I’ll not + yield you to him. Say ‘No’ to me now, and at daybreak I start for La + Rochette to win you from him at point of sword.” + </p> + <p> + Despite her fears she could not repress a little smile of scorn. + </p> + <p> + “Is that all?” said she. “Why, if you are so rash, it is yourself, + assuredly, will be slain.” + </p> + <p> + He smiled tranquilly at that reflection upon his courage and his skill. + </p> + <p> + “So might it befall if I went alone,” said he. She understood. Her eyes + dilated with horror, with loathing of him. The angry words that sprang to + her lips were not to be denied. + </p> + <p> + “You cur, you cowardly assassin!” she blazed at him. “I might have guessed + that in some such cutthroat manner would your vaunt of winning me at the + sword-point be accomplished.” + </p> + <p> + She watched the colour fade from his cheeks, and the ugly, livid hue that + spread in its room to his very lips. Yet it did not daunt her. She was on + her feet, confronting him ere he had time to speak again. Her eyes + flashed, and her arm pointed quivering to the door. + </p> + <p> + “Go!” she bade him, her voice harsh for once. “Out of my sight! Go! Do + your worst, so that you leave me. I’ll hold no traffic with you.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you not?” said he, through setting teeth, and suddenly he caught the + wrist of that outstretched arm. But she saw nothing of immediate danger. + The only danger that she knew was the danger that threatened Florimond, + and little did that matter since at midnight she was to leave Condillac to + reach La Rochette in time to warn her betrothed. The knowledge gave her + confidence and an added courage. + </p> + <p> + “You have offered me your bargain,” she told him. “You have named your + price and you have heard my refusal. Now go.” + </p> + <p> + “Not yet awhile,” said he, in a voice so odiously sweet that Garnache + caught his breath. + </p> + <p> + He drew her towards him. Despite her wild struggles he held her fast + against his breast. Do what she would, he rained his hot kisses on her + face and hair, till at last, freeing a hand, she smote him with all her + might across the face. + </p> + <p> + He let her go then. He fell back with an oath, a patch of fingermarks + showing red on his white countenance. + </p> + <p> + “That blow has killed Florimond de Condillac,” he told her viciously. “He + dies at noon to-morrow. Ponder it, my pretty.” + </p> + <p> + “I care not what you do so that you leave me,” she answered defiantly, + restraining by a brave effort the tears of angry distress that welled up + from her stricken heart. And no less stricken, no less angry was Garnache + where he listened. It was by an effort that he had restrained himself from + bursting in upon them when Marius had seized her. The reflection that were + he to do so all would irretrievably be ruined alone had stayed him. + </p> + <p> + Marius eyed the girl a moment, his face distorted by the rage that was in + him. + </p> + <p> + “By God!” he swore, “if I cannot have your love, I’ll give you cause + enough to hate me.” + </p> + <p> + “Already have you done that most thoroughly,” said she. And Garnache + cursed this pertness of hers which was serving to dare him on. + </p> + <p> + The next moment there broke from her a startled cry. Marius had seized her + again and was crushing her frail body in his arms. + </p> + <p> + “I shall kiss your lips before I go, ma mie,” said he, his voice thick now + with a passion that was not all of anger. And then, while he still + struggled to have his way with her, a pair of arms took him about the + waist like hoops of steel. + </p> + <p> + In his surprise he let her free, and in that moment he was swung back and + round and cast a good six paces down the room. + </p> + <p> + He came to a standstill by the table, at which he clutched to save himself + from falling, and turned bewildered, furious eyes upon “Battista,” by whom + he now dimly realized that he had been assailed. + </p> + <p> + Garnache’s senses had all left him in that moment when Valerie had cried + out. He cast discretion to the winds; reason went out of him, and only + blind anger remained to drive him into immediate action. And as suddenly + as that flood of rage had leaped, as suddenly did it ebb now that he found + himself face to face with the outraged Condillac and began to understand + the magnitude of the folly he had committed. + </p> + <p> + Everything was lost now, utterly and irretrievably—lost as a dozen + other fine emprises had been by his sudden and ungoverned frenzy. God! + What a fool he was! What a cursed, drivelling fool! What, after all, was a + kiss or two, compared with all the evil that might now result from his + interference? Haply Marius would have taken them and departed, and at + midnight they would have been free to go from Condillac. + </p> + <p> + The future would not have been lacking in opportunities to seek out and + kill Marius for that insult. + </p> + <p> + Why could he not have left the matter to the future? But now, with + Florimond to be murdered on the morrow at La Rochette, himself likely to + be murdered within the hour at Condillac, Valerie was at their mercy + utterly. + </p> + <p> + Wildly and vainly did he strive even then to cover up the foolish thing + that he had done. He bowed apologetically to Marius; he waved his hands + and filled the air with Italian phrases, frenziedly uttered, as if by the + very vigour of them he sought to drive explanation into his master’s + brain. Marius watched and listened, but his rage nowise abated; it grew, + instead, as if that farrago of a language he did not understand were but + an added insult. An oath was all he uttered. Then he swung round and + caught Garnache’s sword from the chair beside him, where it still rested, + and Garnache in that moment cursed the oversight. Whipping the long, keen + blade from its sheath, Marius bore down upon the rash meddler. + </p> + <p> + “Par Dieu!” he swore between his teeth. “We’ll see the colour of your + dirty blood, you that lay hands upon a gentleman.” + </p> + <p> + But before he could send home the weapon, before Garnache could move to + defend himself, Valerie had slipped between them. Marius looked into her + white, determined face, and was smitten with surprise. What was this hind + to her that she should interfere at the risk of taking the sword herself? + </p> + <p> + Then a slow smile spread upon his face. He was smarting still under her + disdain and resistance, as well as under a certain sense of the + discomfiture this fellow had put upon him. He saw a way to hurt her, to + abase her pride, and cut her to the very soul with shame. + </p> + <p> + “You are singularly concerned in this man’s life,” said he, an odious + undercurrent of meaning in his voice. + </p> + <p> + “I would not have you murder him,” she answered, “for doing no more than + madame your mother bade him.” + </p> + <p> + “I make no doubt he has proved a very excellent guard,” he sneered. + </p> + <p> + Even now all might have been well. With that insult Marius might consider + that he had taken payment for the discomfiture he had suffered. He might + have bethought him that, perhaps, as she said, “Battista” had done no more + than observe the orders he had received—a trifle excessively, maybe, + yet faithfully nevertheless. Thinking thus, he might even have been + content to go his ways and take his fill of vengeance by slaying Florimond + upon the morrow. But Garnache’s rash temper, rising anew, tore that last + flimsy chance to shreds. + </p> + <p> + The insult that mademoiselle might overlook might even not have fully + understood—set him afire with indignation for her sake. He forgot + his role, forgot even that he had no French. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle,” he cried, and she gasped in her affright at this ruinous + indiscretion, “I beg that you will stand aside.” His voice was low and + threatening, but his words were woefully distinct. + </p> + <p> + “Par la mort Dieu!” swore Marius, taken utterly aback. “What may your name + be—you who hitherto have had no French?” + </p> + <p> + Almost thrusting mademoiselle aside, Garnache stood out to face him, the + flush of hot anger showing through the dye on his cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “My name,” said he, “is Martin Marie Rigobert de Garnache, and my business + now to make an end of one at least of this obscene brood of Condillac.” + </p> + <p> + And, without more ado, he caught up a chair and held it before him in + readiness to receive the other’s onslaught. + </p> + <p> + But Marius hung back an instant—at first in sheer surprise, later in + fear. He had some knowledge of the fellow’s methods. Even the sword he + wielded gave him little confidence opposed to Garnache with a chair. He + must have help. His eyes sought the door, measuring the distance. Ere he + could reach it Garnache would cut him off. There was nothing for it but to + attempt to drive the Parisian back. And so with a sudden rush he advanced + to the attack. Garnache fell back and raised his chair, and in that + instant mademoiselle once more intervened between them. + </p> + <p> + “Stand aside, mademoiselle,” cried Garnache, who now, grown cool, as was + his way when once he was engaged, saw clearly through the purpose formed + by Marius. “Stand aside, or we shall have him giving the alarm.” + </p> + <p> + He leapt clear of her to stop Marius’s sudden rush for the door. On the + very threshold the young man was forced to turn and defend himself, lest + his brains be dashed out by that ponderous weapon Garnache was handling + with a rare facility. But the mischief was done, in that he had reached + the threshold. Backing, he defended himself and gained the anteroom. + Garnache followed, but the clumsy chair was defensive rather than + offensive, and Marius’s sword meanwhile darted above it and below it, + forcing him to keep a certain distance. + </p> + <p> + And now Marius raised his voice and shouted with all the power of his + lungs: + </p> + <p> + “To me! To me! Fortunio! Abdon! To me, you dogs! I am beset.” + </p> + <p> + From the courtyard below rose an echo of his words, repeated in a shout by + the sentinel, who had overheard them, and they caught the swift fall of + the fellow’s feet as he ran for help. Furious, picturing to himself how + the alarm would spread like a conflagration through the chateau, cursing + his headstrong folly yet determined that Marius at least should not escape + him, Garnache put forth his energies to hinder him from gaining the door + that opened on to the stairs. From the doorway of the antechamber + mademoiselle, with a white face and terrified eyes, watched the unequal + combat and heard the shouts for help. Anon despair might whelm her at the + thought of how they had lost their opportunity of escaping; but for the + present she had no thought save for the life of that brave man who was + defending himself with an unwieldy chair. + </p> + <p> + Garnache leapt suddenly aside to take his opponent in the flank and thus + turn him from his backward progress towards the outer door. The manoeuvre + succeeded, and gradually, always defending himself, Garnache circled + farther round him until he was between Marius and the threshold. + </p> + <p> + And now there came a sound of running feet on the uneven stones of the + courtyard. Light gleamed on the staircase, and breathless voices were + wafted up to the two men. Garnache bethought him that his last hour was + assuredly at hand. Well, if he must take his death, he might as well take + it here upon Marius’s sword as upon another’s. So he would risk it for the + sake of leaving upon Marius some token by which he might remember him. He + swung his chair aloft, uncovering himself for a second. The young man’s + sword darted in like a shaft of light. Nimbly Garnache stepped aside to + avoid it, and moved nearer his opponent. Down crashed the chair, and down + went Marius, stunned and bleeding, under its terrific blow. The sword + clattered from his hand and rolled, with a pendulum-like movement, to the + feet of Garnache. + </p> + <p> + The Parisian flung aside his chair and stooped to seize that very welcome + blade. He rose, grasping the hilt and gathering confidence from the touch + of that excellently balanced weapon, and he swung round even as Fortunio + and two of his braves appeared in the doorway. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. HOW MONSIEUR DE GARNACHE LEFT CONDILLAC + </h2> + <p> + Never was there a man with a better stomach for a fight than Martin de + Garnache, nor did he stop to consider that here his appetite in that + direction was likely to be indulged to a surfeit. The sight of those three + men opposing him, swords drawn and Fortunio armed in addition with a + dagger, drove from his mind every other thought, every other consideration + but that of the impending battle. + </p> + <p> + He fell on guard to receive their onslaught, his eyes alert, his lips + tight set, his knees like springs of steel, slightly flexed to support his + well-poised body. + </p> + <p> + But they paused a moment in the extremity of their surprise, and Fortunio + called to him in Italian to know the meaning of this attitude of his as + well as that of Marius, who lay huddled where he had fallen. + </p> + <p> + Garnache, reckless now, disdaining further subterfuge nor seeking to have + recourse to subtleties that could avail him nothing, retorted in French + with the announcement of his true name. At that, perceiving that here was + some deep treachery at work, they hesitated no longer. + </p> + <p> + Led by Fortunio they attacked him, and the din they made in the next few + minutes with their heavy breathing, their frequent oaths, their stamping + and springing this way and that, and, ringing above all, the clash and + clatter of sword on sword, filled the chamber and could be heard in the + courtyard below. + </p> + <p> + Minutes sped, yet they gained no advantage on this single man; not one, + but a dozen swords did he appear to wield, so rapid were his passes, so + ubiquitous his point. Had he but stood his ground there might have been a + speedy end to him, but he retreated slowly towards the door of the + antechamber. Valerie still stood there, watching with fearful eyes and + bated breath that tremendous struggle which at any moment she expected to + see terminate in the death of her only friend. + </p> + <p> + In her way she was helping Garnache, though she little realized it. The + six tapers in the candle-branch she held aloft afforded the only light for + that stormy scene, and that light was in the eyes of Garnache’s + assailants, showing him their faces yet leaving his own in shadow. + </p> + <p> + He fell back steadily towards that door. He could not see it; but there + was not the need. He knew that it was in a direct line with the one that + opened upon the stairs, and by the latter he steered his backward course. + His aim was to gain the antechamber, although they guessed it not, + thinking that he did but retreat through inability to stand his ground. + His reasons were that here in this guardroom the best he could do would be + to put his back to the wall, where he might pick off one or two before + they made an end of him. The place was too bare to suit his urgent, + fearful need. Within the inner room there was furniture to spare, with + which he might contrive to hamper his opponents and give them such a lusty + fight as would live in the memory of those who might survive it for as + long as they should chance to live thereafter. + </p> + <p> + He had no thought of perishing himself, although, to any less concerned, + his death, sooner or later, must seem inevitable—the only possible + conclusion to this affray, taken as he was. His mind was concerned only + with this fight; his business to kill, and not himself to be slain. He + knew that presently others would come to support these three. Already, + perhaps, they were on their way, and he husbanded his strength against + their coming. He was proudly conscious of his own superior skill, for he + had studied the art of fence in Italy—its home—during his + earlier years, and there was no trick of sword-play with which he was not + acquainted, no ruse of service in a rough-and-tumble in which he was + unversed. He was proudly conscious, too, of his supple strength, his + endurance, and his great length of reach, and upon all these he counted to + help him make a decent fight. + </p> + <p> + Valerie, watching him, guessed his purpose to be the gaining of the inner + chamber, the crossing of the threshold on which she was standing. She drew + back a pace or two, almost mechanically, to give him room. The movement + went near to costing him his life. The light no longer falling so + pitilessly upon Fortunio’s eyes, the captain saw more clearly than + hitherto, and shot a swift, deadly stroke straight at the region of + Garnache’s heart. The Parisian leapt back when it was within an inch of + his breast; one of the bravoes followed up, springing a pace in advance of + his companions and lengthening his arm in a powerful lunge. Garnache + caught the blade almost on his hilt, and by the slightest turn of the + wrist made a simultaneous presentment of his point at the other’s + outstretched throat. It took the fellow just above the Adam’s apple, and + with a horrid, gurgling cry he sank, stretched as he still was in the + attitude of that murderous lunge that had proved fatal only to himself. + </p> + <p> + Garnache had come on guard again upon the instant. Yet in the briefest of + seconds during which his sword had been about its work of death, + Fortunio’s rapier came at him a second time. He beat the blade aside with + his bare left hand and stopped with his point the rush of the other bravo. + Then he leapt back again, and his leap brought him to the threshold of the + anteroom. He retreated quickly a pace, and then another. He was a sword’s + length within the chamber, and now he stood, firm as a rock and engaged + Fortunio’s blade which had followed him through the doorway. But he was + more at his ease. The doorway was narrow. Two men abreast could not beset + him, since one must cumber the movements of the other. If they came at him + one at a time, he felt that he could continue that fight till morning, + should there still by then be any left to face him. + </p> + <p> + A wild exultation took him, an insane desire to laugh. Surely was + sword-play the merriest game that was ever devised for man’s + entertainment. He straightened his arm, and his steel went out like a + streak of lightning. But for the dagger on which he caught its edge, the + blade had assuredly pierced the captain’s heart. And now, fighting still, + Garnache called to Valerie. He had need of her assistance to make his + preparations ere others came. + </p> + <p> + “Set down your tapers, mademoiselle,” he bade her, “on the mantel shelf at + my back. Place the other candle branch there too.” + </p> + <p> + Swiftly, yet with half-swimming senses, everything dim to her as to one in + a nightmare, she ran to do his bidding; and now the light placed so at his + back, gave him over his opponents the same slight advantage that he had + enjoyed before. In brisk tones he issued his fresh orders. + </p> + <p> + “Can you move the table, mademoiselle?” he asked her. “Try to drag it + here, to the wall on my left, as close to the door as you can bring it.” + </p> + <p> + “I will try, monsieur,” she panted through dry lips; and again she moved + to do his bidding. Quickened by the need there was, her limbs, which + awhile ago had seemed on the point of refusing their office, appeared to + gather more than ordinary strength. She was unconsciously sobbing in her + passionate anxiety to render him what help was possible. Frenziedly she + caught at the heavy oaken table, and began to drag it across the room as + Garnache had begged her. And now, Fortunio seeing what was toward, and + guessing Garnache’s intentions, sought by a rush to force his way into the + Chamber. But Garnache was ready for him. There was a harsh grind of steel + on steel, culminating in a resounding rush, and Fortunio was back in the + guard-room, whither he had leapt to save his skin. A pause fell at that, + and Garnache lowered his point to rest his arm until they should again + come at him. From beyond the doorway the captain called upon him to yield. + He took the summons as an insult, and flew into a momentary passion. + </p> + <p> + “Yield?” he roared. “Yield to you, you cut-throat scum? You shall have my + sword if you will come for it, but you shall have it in your throat.” + </p> + <p> + Angered in his turn, Fortunio inclined his head to his companion’s ear, + issuing an order. In obedience to it, it was the bravo now who advanced + and engaged Garnache. Suddenly he dropped on to his knees, and over his + head Garnache found his blade suddenly opposed by Fortunio’s. It was a + clever trick, and it all but did Garnache’s business then. Yet together + with the surprise of it there came to him the understanding of what was + intended. Under his guard the kneeling man’s sword was to be thrust up + into his vitals. As a cry of alarm broke from mademoiselle, he leapt aside + and towards the wall, where he was covered from Fortunio’s weapon, and + turning suddenly he passed his sword from side to side through the body of + the kneeling mercenary. + </p> + <p> + The whole thing he had performed mechanically, more by instinct than by + reason; and when it was done, and the tables were thus effectively turned + upon his assailants, he scarcely realized how he had accomplished it. + </p> + <p> + The man’s body cumbered now the doorway, and behind him Fortunio stood, + never daring to advance lest a thrust of that sword which he could not see—Garnache + still standing close against the wall—should serve him likewise. + </p> + <p> + Garnache leaned there, in that friendly shelter, to breathe, and he smiled + grimly under cover of his mustache. So long as he had to deal with a + single assailant he saw no need to move from so excellent a position. + Close beside him, leaning heavily against the table she had dragged thus + far, stood Valerie, her face livid as death, her heart sick within her at + the horror inspired her by that thing lying on the threshold. She could + not take her eyes from the crimson stain that spread slowly on the floor, + coming from under that limply huddled mass of arms and legs. + </p> + <p> + “Do not look, mademoiselle,” Garnache implored her softly. “Be brave, + child; try to be brave.” + </p> + <p> + She sought to brace her flagging courage, and by an effort she averted her + eyes from that horrid heap and fixed them upon Garnache’s calm, intrepid + face. The sight of his quietly watchful eyes, his grimly smiling lips, + seemed to infuse courage into her anew. + </p> + <p> + “I have the table, monsieur,” she told him. “I can bring it no nearer to + the wall.” + </p> + <p> + He understood that this was not because her courage or her strength might + be exhausted, but because he now occupied the spot where he had bidden her + place it. He motioned her away, and when she had moved he darted suddenly + and swiftly aside and caught the table, his sword still fast in his two + first fingers, which he had locked over the quillons. He had pushed its + massive weight halfway across the door before Fortunio grasped the + situation. Instantly the captain sought to take advantage of it, thinking + to catch Garnache unawares. But no sooner did he show his nose inside the + doorpost than Garnache’s sword flashed before his eyes, driving him back + with a bloody furrow in his cheek. + </p> + <p> + “Have a care, Monsieur le Capitaine,” Garnache mocked him. “Had you come + an inch farther it might have been the death of you.” + </p> + <p> + A clatter of steps sounded upon the stairs, and the Parisian bent once + more to his task, and thrust the table across the open doorway. He had a + moment’s respite now, for Fortunio stung—though lightly—was not + likely to come again until he had others to support him. And while the + others came, while the hum of their voices rose higher, and finally their + steps clattered over the bare boards of the guard-room floor, Garnache had + caught up and flung a chair under the table to protect him from an attack + from below, while he had piled another on top to increase and further + strengthen the barricade. + </p> + <p> + Valerie watched him agonizedly, leaning now against the wall, her hands + pressed across her bosom, as if to keep down its tempestuous heaving. Yet + her anguish was tempered by a great wonder and a great admiration of this + man who could keep such calm eyes and such smiling lips in the face of the + dreadful odds by which he was beset, in the face of the certain death that + must ultimately reach him before he was many minutes older. And in her + imagination she conjured up a picture of him lying there torn by their + angry swords and drenched in blood, his life gone out of him, his brave + spirit, quenched for ever—and all for her unworthy sake. Because + she— little, worthless thing that she was—would not marry as + they listed, this fine, chivalrous soul was to be driven from its stalwart body. + </p> + <p> + An agony of grief took her now, and she fell once more to those awful sobs + that awhile ago had shaken her. She had refused to marry Marius that + Florimond’s life should be spared, knowing that before Marius could reach + him she herself would have warned her betrothed. Yet even had that + circumstance not existed, she was sure that still she would have refused + to do the will of Marius. But equally sure was she that she would not so + refuse him were he now to offer as the price of her compliance the life of + Garnache, which she accounted irrevocably doomed. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly his steady, soothing voice penetrated her anguished musings. + </p> + <p> + “Calm yourself, mademoiselle; all is far from lost as yet.” + </p> + <p> + She thought that he but spoke so to comfort her; she did not follow the + working of his warlike mind, concentrated entirely upon the business of + the moment, with little thought—or care, for that matter—for + what might betide anon. Yet she made an effort to repress her sobs. She + would be brave, if only to show herself worthy of the companionship and + friendship of so brave a man. + </p> + <p> + Across his barricade he peered into the outer room to ascertain with what + fresh opponents he might have to reckon, and he was surprised to see but + four men standing by Fortunio, whilst behind them among the thicker + shadows, he dimly made out a woman’s figure and, beside her, another man + who was short and squat. + </p> + <p> + He bethought him that the hour, and the circumstance that most of the + mercenaries would be in their beds, accounted for the reinforcement not + being greater. + </p> + <p> + The woman moved forward, and he saw as he had suspected, that it was the + Dowager herself. The squat figure beside her, moving with her into the + shaft of light that fell from the doorway Garnache defended, revealed to + him the features of Monsieur de Tressan. If any doubt he had still + entertained concerning the Seneschal’s loyalty, that doubt was now + dispelled. + </p> + <p> + And now the Dowager uttered a sudden cry of fear. She had caught sight of + the fallen Marius, and she hurried to his side. Tressan sped after her and + between them they raised the boy and helped him to a chair, where he now + sat, passing a heavy hand across his no doubt aching brow. Clearly he was + recovering, from which Garnache opined with regret that his blow had been + too light. The Dowager turned to Fortunio, who had approached her, and her + eyes seemed to take fire at something that he told her. + </p> + <p> + “Garnache?” the Parisian heard her say, and he saw Fortunio jerk his thumb + in the direction of the barricade. + </p> + <p> + She appeared to forget her son; she stepped suddenly from his side, and + peered through the doorway at the stalwart figure of Garnache, dimly to be + seen through the pile of furniture that protected him to the height of his + breast. No word said she to the Parisian. She stood regarding him a moment + with lips compressed and a white, startled, angry face. Then: + </p> + <p> + “It was by Marius’s contrivance that he was placed sentry over the girl,” + he heard her tell Fortunio, and he thought she sneered. + </p> + <p> + She looked at the two bodies on the floor, one almost at her feet, the + other just inside the doorway, now almost hidden in the shadows of the + table. Then she issued her commands to the men, and fiercely she bade them + pull down that barricade and take the dog alive. + </p> + <p> + But before they could move to do her bidding, Garnache’s voice rang + imperatively through the chamber. + </p> + <p> + “A word with you ere they begin, Monsieur de Tressan,” he shouted, and + such was the note of command he assumed that the men stood arrested, + looking to the Dowager for fresh orders. Tressan changed colour, for all + that there was surely naught to fear, and he fingered his beard + perplexedly, looking to the Marquise for direction. She flashed him a + glance, lifted one shoulder disdainfully, and to the men: + </p> + <p> + “Fetch him out,” said she, and she pointed to Garnache. But again Garnache + stayed them. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur de Tressan,” he called impressively, “to your dying day—and + that will be none so distant—shall you regret it if you do not hear + me.” + </p> + <p> + The Seneschal was stirred by those words and the half-threat, + half-warning; they seemed to cover. He paused a moment, and this time his + eyes avoided the Marquise’s. At last, taking a step forward, + </p> + <p> + “Knave,” said he, “I do not know you.” + </p> + <p> + “You know me well enough. You have heard my name. I am Martin Marie + Rigobert de Garnache, Her Majesty’s emissary into Dauphiny to procure the + enlargement of Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye from the Chateau de Condillac, + where she is detained by force and for the serving of unscrupulous ends. + Now you know me and my quality.” + </p> + <p> + The Dowager stamped her foot. + </p> + <p> + “Fetch him out!” she commanded harshly. + </p> + <p> + “Hear me first, Monsieur le Seneschal, or it will be the worse for you.” + And the Seneschal, moved by that confident promise of evil, threw himself + before the men-at-arms. + </p> + <p> + “A moment, I beseech you, Marquise,” he cried, and the men, seeing his + earnestness and knowing his quality, stood undecided, buffeted as they + were between his will and the Marquise’s. “What have you to say to me?” + Tressan demanded, seeking to render arrogant his tone. + </p> + <p> + “This: That my servant knows where I am, and that should I fail within a + very few days to come forth safe and sound from Condillac to rejoin him, + he is to ride to Paris with certain letters I have given him. Those + letters incriminate you to the full in this infamous matter here at + Condillac. I have set forth in them how you refused me help, how you + ignored the Queen’s commands of which I was the bearer; and should it be + proved, in addition, that through your treachery and insubordination my + life has been lost, I promise you that nothing in all this world will save + you from a hanging.” + </p> + <p> + “Never listen, monsieur,” cried the Dowager, seeing Tressan start back + like a man in sudden fear. “It is no more than the ruse of a desperate + man.” + </p> + <p> + “Heed me or not, at your choice,” Garnache retorted, addressing himself + ever to Tressan. “You have had your warning. I little thought to see you + here to-night. But seeing you confirms my worst suspicions, and if I am to + die, I can die easy in my conscience at the thought that in sacrificing + you to Her Majesty’s wrath I have certainly not sacrificed an innocent + man.” + </p> + <p> + “Madame—” the Seneschal began, turning to the Dowager. But she broke + in impatiently upon his intended words, upon the prayer that bubbled to + his lips that she should pause a while ere she made an end of this + Parisian. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” said she, “you may bargain with him when he is taken. We will + have him alive. Go in,” she bade her men, her voice so resolute now that + none dared tarry longer. “Fetch the knave out—alive.” + </p> + <p> + Garnache smiled at mademoiselle as the words were uttered. + </p> + <p> + “They want me alive,” said he. “That is a hopeful state of things. Bear + up, child; I may need your help ere we are through.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall find me ready, monsieur,” she assured him for all her tremors. + He looked at the pale face, composed now by an effort of her will, and at + the beautiful hazel eyes which strove to meet his with calm and to reflect + his smile, and he marvelled at her courage as much as did she at his. + </p> + <p> + Then the assault began, and he could have laughed at the way in which a + couple of those cut-throats—neither wishing to have the honour of + meeting him singly—hindered each other by seeking to attack him at + once. + </p> + <p> + At last the Dowager commanded one of them to go in. The fellow came, and + he was driven back by the sword that darted at him from above the + barricade. + </p> + <p> + There matters might have come to a deadlock, but that Fortunio came + forward with one of his men to repeat the tactics which had cost him a + life already. His fellow went down on his knees, and drove his sword under + the table and through the frame of the chair, seeking to prick Garnache in + the legs. Simultaneously the captain laid hold of an arm of the chair + above and sought to engage Garnache across it. The ruse succeeded to the + extent of compelling the Parisian to retreat. The table seemed likely to + be his undoing instead of helping him. He dropped like lightning to one + knee, seeking to force the fellow out from underneath. But the obstacles + which should have hindered his assailants hindered Garnache even more at + this juncture. In that instant Fortunio whipped the chair from the + table-top, and flung it forward. One of its legs caught Garnache on the + sword arm, deadening it for a second. The sword fell from his hand, and + Valerie shrieked aloud, thinking the battle at an end. But the next moment + he was on his feet, his rapier firmly gripped once more, for all that his + arm still felt a trifle numbed. As seconds passed the numbness wore away, + but before that had taken place the table had been thrust forward, and the + man beneath it had made it impossible for Garnache to hinder this. + Suddenly he called to Valerie. + </p> + <p> + “A cloak, mademoiselle! Get me a cloak!” he begged. And she, stemming her + fears once more, ran to do his bidding. + </p> + <p> + She caught up a cloak that lay on a chair by the door of her bed-chamber, + and brought it to him. He twisted it twice round his left arm, letting its + folds hang loose, and advanced again to try conclusions with the gentleman + underneath. He cast the garment so that it enmeshed the sword when next it + was advanced. Stepping briskly aside, he was up to the table, and his busy + blade drove back the man who assailed him across it. He threw his weight + against it, and thrust it back till it was jammed hard once more against + the doorposts, leaving the chair at his very feet. The man beneath had + recovered his sword by this, and again he sought to use it. That was the + end of him. Again Garnache enmeshed it, kicked away the chair, or, rather, + thrust it aside with his foot, stooped suddenly, and driving his blade + under the table felt it sink into the body of his tormentor. + </p> + <p> + There was a groan and a spluttering cough, and then before Garnache could + recover he heard mademoiselle crying out to him to beware. The table was + thrust suddenly forward almost on top of him; its edge caught his left + shoulder, and sent him back a full yard, sprawling upon the ground. + </p> + <p> + To rise again, gasping for air—for the fall had shaken him—was + the work of an instant. But in that instant Fortunio had thrust the table + clear of the doorway, and his men were pouring into the room. + </p> + <p> + They came at Garnache in a body, with wild shouts and fierce mockery, and + he hurriedly fell on guard and gave way before them until his shoulders + were against the wainscot and he had at least the assurance that none + could take him in the rear. Three blades engaged his own. Fortunio had + come no farther than the doorway, where he stood his torn cheek drenched + in blood, watching the scene the Marquise beside him, and Tressan standing + just behind them, very pale and scared. + </p> + <p> + Yet Garnache’s first thought even in that moment of dire peril was for + Valerie. He would spare her the sight that must before many moments be + spread to view within that shambles. + </p> + <p> + “To your chamber, mademoiselle,” he cried to her. “You hinder me,” he + added by way of compelling her obedience. She did his bidding, but only in + part. No farther went she than the doorway of her room, where she remained + standing, watching the fray as earlier she had stood and watched it from + the door of the antechamber. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly she was moved by inspiration. He had gained an advantage before, + by retreating through a doorway into an inner room. Might he not do the + same again, and be in better case if he were to retreat now to her own + chamber? Impulsively she called to him. + </p> + <p> + “In here, Monsieur de Garnache. In here.” + </p> + <p> + The Marquise looked across at her, and smiled in mockery. Garnache was too + well occupied, she thought, to attempt any such rashness. If he but dared + remove his shoulders from the wall there would be a speedier end to him + than as things were. + </p> + <p> + Not so, however, thought Garnache. The cloak twisted about his left arm + gave him some advantage, and he used it to the full. He flicked the slack + of it in the face of one, and followed it up by stabbing the fellow in the + stomach before he could recover guard, whilst with another wave of that + cloak he enmeshed the sword that shot readily into the opening he had + left. + </p> + <p> + Madame cursed, and Fortunio echoed her imprecations. The Seneschal gasped, + his fears lost in amazement at so much valour and dexterity. + </p> + <p> + Garnache swung away from the wall now, and set his back to mademoiselle, + determined to act upon her advice. But even in that moment he asked + himself for the first time since the commencement of that carnage—to + what purpose? His arms were growing heavy with fatigue, his mouth was + parched, and great beads of perspiration stood upon his brow. Soon he + would be spent, and they would not fail to take a very full advantage of + it. + </p> + <p> + Hitherto his mind had been taken up with the battle only, and if he had + thought of retreating, it was but to the end that he might gain a position + of some vantage. Now, conscious of his growing fatigue, his thoughts + turned them at last to the consideration of flight. Was there no way out + of it? Must he kill every man in Condillac before he could hope to escape? + </p> + <p> + Whimsically, and almost mechanically, he set himself, in his mind, to + count the men. There were twenty mercenaries all told, excluding Fortunio + and himself. On Arsenio he might rely not to attack him, perhaps even to + come to his assistance at the finish. That left nineteen. Four he had + already either killed outright or effectively disabled; so that fifteen + remained him. The task of dealing with those other fifteen was utterly + beyond him. Presently, no doubt, the two now opposing him would be + reinforced by others. So that if any possible way out existed, he had best + set about finding it at once. + </p> + <p> + He wondered could he cut down these two, make an end of Fortunio, and, + running for it, attempt to escape through the postern before the rest of + the garrison had time to come up with him or guess his purpose. But the + notion was too wild, its accomplishment too impossible. + </p> + <p> + He was fighting now with his back to mademoiselle and his face to the tall + window, through the leaded panes of which he caught the distorted shape of + a crescent moon. Suddenly the idea came to him. Through that window must + lie his way. It was a good fifty feet above the moat, he knew, and if he + essayed to leap it, it must be an even chance that he would be killed in + leaping. But the chance of death was a certain one if he tarried where he + was until others came to support his present opponents. And so he briskly + determined upon the lesser risk. + </p> + <p> + He remembered that the window was nailed down, as it had remained since + mademoiselle’s pretended attempt at flight. But surely that should prove + no formidable obstacle. + </p> + <p> + And now that his resolve was taken his tactics abruptly changed. Hitherto + he had been sparing of his movements, husbanding his strength against the + long battle that seemed promised him. Suddenly he assumed the offensive + where hitherto he had but acted in self-defence, and a most deadly + offensive was it. He plied his cloak, untwisting it from his arm and + flinging it over the head and body of one of his assailants, so that he + was enmeshed and blinded by it. Leaping to the fellow’s flank, Garnache, + with a terrific kick, knocked his legs from under him so that he fell + heavily. Then, stooping suddenly, the Parisian ran his blade under the + other brave’s guard and through the fellow’s thigh. The man cried out, + staggered, and then went down utterly disabled. + </p> + <p> + One swift downward thrust Garnache made at the mass that wriggled under + his cloak. The activity of its wriggles increased in the next few seconds, + then ceased altogether. + </p> + <p> + Tressan felt wet from head to foot with a sweat provoked by horror of what + he saw. The Dowager’s lips were pouring forth a horrid litany of + guard-room oaths, and meanwhile Garnache had swung round to meet Fortunio, + the last of all who had stood with him. + </p> + <p> + The captain came on boldly, armed with sword and dagger, and in that + moment, feeling himself spent, Garnache bitterly repented having + relinquished his cloak. Yet he made a stubborn fight, and whilst they + fenced and stamped about that room, Marius came to watch them, staggering + to his mother’s side and leaning heavily upon Tressan’s shoulder. The + Marquise turned to him, her face livid to the lips. + </p> + <p> + “That man must be the very fiend,” Garnache heard her tell her son. “Run + for help, Tressan, or, God knows, he may escape us yet. Go for men, or we + shall have Fortunio killed as well. Bid them bring muskets.” + </p> + <p> + Tressan, moving like one bereft of wits, went her errand, while the two + men fought on, stamping and panting, circling and lunging, their breath + coming in gasps, their swords grinding and clashing till sparks leapt from + them. + </p> + <p> + The dust rose up to envelop and almost choke them, and more than once they + slipped in the blood with which the floor was spattered, whilst presently + Garnache barely recovered and saved himself from stumbling over the body + of one of his victims against which his swiftly moving feet had hurtled. + </p> + <p> + And the Dowager, who watched the conflict and who knew something of + sword-play, realized that, tired though Garnache might be, unless help + came soon or some strange chance gave the captain the advantage, Fortunio + would be laid low with the others. + </p> + <p> + His circling had brought the Parisian round, so that his back was now to + the window, his face to the door of the bedchamber, where mademoiselle + still watched in ever-growing horror. His right shoulder was in line with + the door of the antechamber, which madame occupied, and he never saw her + quit Marius’s side and creep slyly into the room to speed swiftly round + behind him. + </p> + <p> + The only one from whom he thought that he might have cause to fear + treachery was the man whom he had dropped with a thigh wound, and he was + careful to keep beyond the reach of any sudden sword-thrust from that + fellow. + </p> + <p> + But if he did not see the woman’s movements, mademoiselle saw them, and + the sight set her eyes dilating with a new fear. She guessed the Dowager’s + treacherous purpose. And no sooner had she guessed it than, with a choking + sob, she told herself that what madame could do that could she also. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly Garnache saw an opening; Fortunio’s eyes, caught by the Dowager’s + movements, strayed for a moment past his opponent, and the thing would + have been fatal to the captain but that in that moment, as Garnache was on + the point of lunging, he felt himself caught from behind, his arms + pinioned to his sides by a pair of slender ones that twined themselves + about him, and over his shoulder, the breath of it fanning his hot cheek, + came a vicious voice— + </p> + <p> + “Stab now, Fortunio!” + </p> + <p> + The captain asked nothing better. He raised his weary sword-arm and + brought his point to the level of Garnache’s breast, but in that instant + its weight became leaden. Imitating the Marquise, Valerie had been in + time. She seized Fortunio’s half-lifted arm and flung all her weight upon + it. + </p> + <p> + The captain cursed her horridly in a frenzy of fear, for he saw that did + Garnache shake off the Marquise there would be an end of himself. He + sought to wrench himself free of her detaining grasp, and the exertion + brought him down, weary as he was, and with her weight hanging to him. He + sank to his knees, and the girl, still clinging valiantly, sank with him, + calling to Garnache that she held the captain fast. + </p> + <p> + Putting forth all his remaining strength, the Parisian twisted from the + Dowager’s encircling grasp and hurled her from him with a violence he + nowise intended. + </p> + <p> + “Yours, madame, are the first woman’s arms that ever Martin de Garnache + has known,” said he. “And never could embrace of beauty have been less + welcome.” + </p> + <p> + Panting, he caught up one of the overturned chairs. Holding it by the back + he made for the window. He had dropped his sword, and he called to + mademoiselle to hold the captain yet an instant longer. He swung his chair + aloft and dashed it against the window. There was a thundering crash of + shivered glass and a cool draught of that November night came to sweeten + the air that had been fouled by the stamping of the fighters. + </p> + <p> + Again he swung up his chair and dashed it at the window, and yet again, + until no window remained, but a great, gaping opening with a fringe of + ragged glass and twisted leadwork. + </p> + <p> + In that moment Fortunio struggled to his feet, free of the girl, who sank, + almost in a swoon. He sprang towards Garnache. The Parisian turned and + flung his now shattered chair toward the advancing captain. It dropped at + his feet, and his flying shins struck against an edge of it, bringing him, + hurt and sprawling, to the ground. Before he could recover, a figure was + flying through the open gap that lately had been a window. + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle sat up and screamed. + </p> + <p> + “You will be killed, Monsieur de Garnache! Dear God, you will be killed!” + and the anguish in her voice was awful. + </p> + <p> + It was the last thing that reached the ears of Monsieur de Garnache as he + tumbled headlong through the darkness of the chill November night. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII. IN THE MOAT + </h2> + <p> + Fortunio and the Marquise reached the window side by side, and they were + in time to hear a dull splash in the waters fifty feet below them. There + was a cloud over the little sickle of moon, and to their eyes, fresh from + the blaze of candle-light, the darkness was impenetrable. + </p> + <p> + “He is in the moat,” cried the Marquise excitedly, and Valerie, who sat on + the floor whither she had slipped when Fortunio shook her off, rocked + herself in an agony of fear. + </p> + <p> + To the horrors about her—the huddled bodies lying so still upon the + floor, the bloody footprints everywhere, the shattered furniture, and the + groans of the man with the wounded thigh—to all this she was + insensible. Garnache was dead, she told herself; he was surely dead; and + it seemed as if the very thought of it were killing, too, a part of her + own self. + </p> + <p> + Unconsciously she sobbed her fears aloud. “He is dead,” she moaned; “he is + dead.” + </p> + <p> + The Marquise overheard that piteous cry, and turned to survey the girl, + her brows lifting, her lips parting in an astonishment that for a second + effaced the horrors of that night. Suspicion spread like an oil stain in + her evil mind. She stepped forward and caught the girl by one of her limp + arms. Marius, paler than his stunning had left him, leaned more heavily + against the door-post, and looked on with bloodshot eyes. If ever maiden + avowed the secret of her heart, it seemed to him that Valerie avowed it + then. + </p> + <p> + The Marquise shook her angrily. + </p> + <p> + “What was he to you, girl? What was he to you?” she demanded shrilly. + </p> + <p> + And the girl, no more than half conscious of what she was saying, made + answer: + </p> + <p> + “The bravest gentleman, the noblest friend I have ever known.” + </p> + <p> + Pah! The Dowager dropped her arm and turned to issue a command to + Fortunio. But already the fellow had departed. His concern was not with + women, but with the man who had escaped him. He must make certain that the + fall had killed Garnache. + </p> + <p> + Breathless and worn as he was, all spattered now with blood from the + scratch in his cheek, which lent him a terrific aspect, he dashed from + that shambles and across the guard-room. He snatched up a lighted lantern + that had been left in the doorway and leapt down the stairs and into the + courtyard. Here he came upon Monsieur de Tressan with a half-dozen fellows + at his heels, all more or less half clad, but all very fully armed with + swords and knives, and one or two with muskets. + </p> + <p> + Roughly, with little thought for the dignity of his high office, he thrust + the Lord Seneschal aside and turned the men. Some he ordered off to the + stables to get horses, for if Garnache had survived his leap and swum the + moat, they must give chase. Whatever betide, the Parisian must not get + away. He feared the consequences of that as much for himself as for + Condillac. Some five or six of the men he bade follow him, and never + pausing to answer any of Tressan’s fearful questions, he sped across the + courtyard, through the kitchens—which was the nearest way—into + the outer quadrangle. Never pausing to draw breath, spent though he was, + he pursued his flight under the great archway of the keep and across the + drawbridge, the raising of which had been that night postponed to await + the Lord Seneschal’s departure. + </p> + <p> + Here on the bridge he paused and turned in a frenzy to scream to his + followers that they should fetch more torches. Meanwhile he snatched the + only one at hand from the man-at-arms that carried it. + </p> + <p> + His men sprang into the guard-room of the keep, realizing from his almost + hysterical manner the urgent need for haste. And while he waited for them, + standing there on the bridge, his torch held high, he scanned by its lurid + red light the water as far as eye could reach on either side of him. + </p> + <p> + There was a faint movement on the dark, oily surface for all that no wind + stirred. Not more than four or five minutes could have elapsed since + Garnache’s leap, and it would seem as if the last ripple from the + disturbance of his plunge had not yet rolled itself out. But otherwise + there was nothing here, nor did Fortunio expect aught. The window of the + Northern Tower abutted on to the other side of the chateau, and it was + there he must look for traces of the fugitive or for his body. + </p> + <p> + “Hasten!” he shouted over his shoulder. “Follow me!” And without waiting + for them he ran across the bridge and darted round the building, his torch + scattering a shower of sparks behind him on the night, and sending little + rills of blood-red light down the sword which he still carried. + </p> + <p> + He gained the spot where Garnache must have fallen, and he stood below the + radiance that clove the night from the shattered window fifty feet above, + casting the light of his torch this way and that over the black bosom of + the moat. Not a ripple moved now upon that even, steely surface. Voices + sounded behind him, and with them a great glare of ruddy light came to + herald the arrival of his men. He turned to them and pointed with his + sword away from the chateau. + </p> + <p> + “Spread yourselves!” he shouted. “Make search yonder. He cannot have gone + far.” + </p> + <p> + And they, but dimly realizing whom they sought, yet realizing that they + sought a man, dashed off and spread themselves as he had bidden them, to + search the stretch of meadowland, where ill must betide any fugitive, + since no cover offered. + </p> + <p> + Fortunio remained where he was at the edge of the moat. He stooped, and + waving his torch along the ground he moved to the far angle of the + chateau, examining the soft, oozy clay. It was impossible that a man could + have clambered out over that without leaving some impression. He reached + the corner and found the clay intact; at least, nowhere could he discover + a mark of hands or a footprint set as would be that of a man emerging from + the water. + </p> + <p> + He retraced his steps and went back until he had reached the eastern angle + of the chateau, yet always with the same result. He straightened himself + at last, and his manner was more calm; his frenzied haste was gone, and + deliberately he now raised his torch and let its light shine again over + the waters. He pondered them a moment, his dark eyes musing almost + regretfully. + </p> + <p> + “Drowned!” he said aloud, and sheathed his sword. + </p> + <p> + From the window overhead a voice hailed him. He looked up and saw the + Dowager, and, behind her, the figure of her son. Away in the meadows the + lights of his men’s torches darted hither and thither like playful + jack-o’-lanterns. + </p> + <p> + “Have you got him, Fortunio?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, madame,” he answered with assurance. “You may have his body when you + will. He is underneath here.” And he pointed to the water. + </p> + <p> + They appeared to take his word for it, for they questioned him no further. + The Marquise turned to mademoiselle, who was still sitting on the floor. + </p> + <p> + “He is drowned, Valerie,” she said slowly, watching the girl’s face. + </p> + <p> + Valerie looked up. Her eyes were very wide, and her lips moved for a + second. Then she fell forward without a word. This last horror, treading + on the heels of all those that already had assailed her, proved too great + a strain for her brave spirit. She had swooned. + </p> + <p> + Tressan entered at that moment, full of questions as to what might be + toward, for he had understood nothing in the courtyard. The Marquise + called to him to help her with the girl, Marius being still too faint, and + between them they bore her to her chamber, laid her on the bed, and, + withdrawing, closed the door upon her. Then she signed to Marius and the + Seneschal. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” she said; “let us go. The sight and smell of the place are turning + me sick, although my stomach is strong enough to endure most horrors.” + </p> + <p> + She took up one of the candle-branches to light them, and they went below + and made their way to the hall, where they found Marius’s page, Gaston, + looking very pale and scared at the din that had filled the chateau during + the past half-hour or so. With him was Marius’s hound, which the poor boy + had kept by him for company and protection in that dreadful time. + </p> + <p> + The Marquise spoke to him kindly, and she stooped to pat the dog’s glossy + head. Then she bade Gaston set wine for them, and when it was fetched the + three of them drank in brooding, gloomy silence. + </p> + <p> + The draught invigorated Marius, it cheered Tressan’s drooping spirits, and + it quenched the Dowager’s thirst. The Seneschal turned to her again with + his unanswered questions touching the end of that butchery above-stairs. + She told him what Fortunio had said that Garnache was drowned as a + consequence of his mad leap from the window. + </p> + <p> + Into Tressan’s mind there sprang the memory of the thing Garnache had + promised should befall him in such a case. It drove the colour from his + cheeks and brought great lines of fearful care into sharp relief about his + mouth and eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Madame, we are ruined!” he groaned. + </p> + <p> + “Tressan,” she answered him contemptuously, “you are chicken-hearted. + Listen to me. Did he not say that he had left his man behind him when he + came to Condillac? Where think you that he left his man?” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe in Grenoble,” answered the Seneschal, staring. + </p> + <p> + “Find out,” she told him impressively, her eyes on his, and calm as though + they had never looked upon such sights as that very night had offered + them. “If not in Grenoble, certainly, at least, somewhere in this Dauphiny + of which you are the King’s Lord Seneschal. Turn the whole province inside + out, man, but find the fellow. Yours is the power to do it. Do it, then, + and you will have no consequences to fear. You have seen the man?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, I have seen him. I remember him; and his name, I bethink me, is + Rabecque.” + </p> + <p> + He took courage; his face looked less dejected. + </p> + <p> + “You overlook nothing, madame,” he murmured. “You are truly wonderful. I + will start the search this very night. My men are almost all at Montelimar + awaiting my commands. I’ll dispatch a messenger with orders that they are + to spread themselves throughout Dauphiny upon this quest.” + </p> + <p> + The door opened, and Fortunio entered. He was still unwashed and terrible + to look upon, all blood-bespattered. The sight of him drove a shudder + through Tressan. The Marquise grew solicitous. + </p> + <p> + “How is your wound, Fortunio?” was her first question. + </p> + <p> + He made a gesture that dismissed the matter. + </p> + <p> + “It is nothing. I am over full-blooded, and if I am scratched, I bleed, + without perceiving it, enough to drain another man.” + </p> + <p> + “Here, drink, mon capitaine,” she urged him, very friendly, filling him a + cup with her own hands. “And you, Marius?” she asked. “Are you recovering + strength?” + </p> + <p> + “I am well,” answered Marius sullenly. His defeat that evening had left + him glum and morose. He felt that he had cut a sorry figure in the affair, + and his vanity was wounded. “I deplore I had so little share in the + fight,” he muttered. + </p> + <p> + “The lustiest fight ever I or any man beheld,” swore Fortunio. “Dieu! But + he was a fighter, that Monsieur de Garnache, and he deserved a better end + than drowning.” + </p> + <p> + “You are quite sure that he is drowned?” + </p> + <p> + Fortunio replied by giving his reasons for that conclusion, and they + convinced both the Marquise and her son indeed they had never deemed it + possible that the Parisian could have survived that awful leap. The + Dowager looked at Marius, and from him to the captain. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think, you two, that you will be fit for tomorrow’s business?” + </p> + <p> + “For myself,” laughed Fortunio, “I am ready for it now.” + </p> + <p> + “And I shall be when I have rested,” answered Marius grimly. + </p> + <p> + “Then get you both to rest, you will be needing it,” she bade them. + </p> + <p> + “And I, too, madame,” said the Seneschal, bending over the hand she held + out to him. “Good-night to you all.” He would have added a word to wish + them luck in the morrow’s venture; but for the life of him he dared not. + He turned, made another of his bows, and rolled out of the room. + </p> + <p> + Five minutes later the drawbridge was being raised after his departure, + and Fortunio was issuing orders to the men he had recalled from their + futile search to go clear the guard-room and antechamber of the Northern + Tower, and to bear the dead to the chapel, which must serve as a mortuary + for the time. That done he went off to bed, and soon after the lights were + extinguished in Condillac; and save for Arsenio, who was, on guard, sorely + perturbed by all that had befallen and marvelling at the rashness of his + friend “Battista”—for he had no full particulars of the business—the + place was wrapped in sleep. + </p> + <p> + Had they been less sure that Garnache was drowned, maybe they had + slumbered less tranquilly that night at Condillac. Fortunio had been + shrewd in his conclusions, yet a trifle hasty; for whilst, as a matter of + fact, he was correct in assuming that the Parisian had not crawled out of + the moat—neither at the point he had searched, nor elsewhere—yet + was he utterly wrong to assume him at the bottom of it. + </p> + <p> + Garnache had gone through that window prepared to leap into another—and, + he hoped, a better world. He had spun round twice in the air and shot feet + foremost through the chill waters of the moat, and down until his toes + came in contact with a less yielding substance, yet yielding nevertheless. + Marvelling that he should have retained until now his senses, he realized + betimes that he was touching mud—that he was really ankle deep in + it. A vigorous, frantic kick with both legs at once released him, and he + felt himself slowly re-ascending to the surface. + </p> + <p> + It has been often said that a drowning man in his struggles sees his whole + life mirrored before him. In the instants of Garnache’s ascent through the + half stagnant waters of that moat he had reviewed the entire situation and + determined upon the course he should pursue. When he reached the surface, + he must see to it that he broke it gently, for at the window above were + sure to be watchers, looking to see how he had fared. Madame, he + remembered, had sent Tressan for muskets. If he had returned with them and + they should perceive him from above, a bullet would be sent to dispose of + him, and it were a pity to be shot now after having come through so much. + </p> + <p> + His head broke the surface and emerged into the chill darkness of the + night. He took a deep breath of cold but very welcome air, and moving his + arms gently under water, he swam quietly, not to the edge of the moat but + to the chateau wall, close under which he thought he would be secure from + observation. He found by good fortune a crevice between two stones; he did + not see it, his fingers found it for him as they groped along that granite + surface. He clung there a moment and pondered the situation. He heard + voices above, and looking up he saw the glare of light through the opening + he had battered. + </p> + <p> + And now he was surprised to feel new vigour running through him. He had + hurled himself from that window with scarce the power to leap, bathed in + perspiration and deeming his strength utterly spent. The ice-cold waters + of the moat had served, it would seem, to brace him, to wash away his + fatigue, and to renew his energies. His mind was singularly clear and his + senses rendered superacute, and he set himself to consider what he had + best do. + </p> + <p> + Swim to the edge of the moat and, clambering out, take to his legs was + naturally the first impulse. But, reflecting upon the open nature of the + ground, he realized that that must mean his ruin. Presently they would + come to see how he had fared, and failing to find him in the water they + would search the country round about. He set himself in their place. He + tried to think as they would think, the better that he might realize how + they would act, and then an idea came to him that might be worth heeding. + In any case his situation was still very desperate; on that score he + allowed himself no illusions. That they would take his drowning for + granted, and never come to satisfy themselves, he was not optimist enough + to assume. + </p> + <p> + He abandoned his grip of the wall and began to swim gently toward the + eastern angle. If they came out, they must lower the bridge; he would + place himself so that in falling it should cover him and screen him from + their sight. He rounded the angle of the building, and now the friendly + cloud that had hung across the moon moved by, and a faint, silver radiance + was upon the water under his eyes. But yonder, ahead of him, something + black lay athwart the moat. At once he knew it for the bridge. It was + down. And he had the explanation in that he remembered that the Lord + Seneschal had not yet left Condillac. It mattered little to him one way or + the other. The bridge was there, and he made the best of it. + </p> + <p> + A few swift, silent strokes brought him to it. He hesitated a moment + before venturing into the darkness underneath; then, bethinking him that + it was that or discovery, he passed under. He made for the wall, and as he + groped along he found a chain depending and reaching down into the water. + He caught at it with both hands and hung by it to await events. + </p> + <p> + And now, for the first time that night, his pulses really quickened. There + in the dark he waited, and the moments that sped seemed very long to him, + and they were very anxious. He had no good sword wherewith to defend + himself were he attacked, no good, solid ground on which to take his + stand. If he were discovered, he was helpless, at their mercy, to shoot, + or take, or beat to death as best they listed. And so he waited, his + pulses throbbing, his breath coming short and fast. The cold water that + had invigorated him some minutes ago was numbing him now, and seemed to be + freezing his courage as it froze the blood in his veins, the very marrow + in his bones. + </p> + <p> + Presently his ears caught a rush of feet, a sound of voices, and + Fortunio’s raised above the others. Heavy steps rang on the bridge over + his head, and the thud of their fall was like thunder to the man beneath. + A crimson splash of light fell on the moat on either side of him. The + fellow on the bridge had halted. Then the steps went on. The light flared + this way and that, and Garnache almost trembled, expecting at every moment + that its rays would penetrate the spot where he was hanging and reveal him + cowering there like a frightened water-rat. But the man moved on, and his + light flared no longer. + </p> + <p> + Then others followed him. Garnache heard the sounds of their search. So + overwrought was he that there was a moment when he thought of swimming to + the edge and making across the country to the north while they were + hunting the meadows to the east; but he repressed the impulse and stayed + on. An eternity did it seem before those men returned and marched once + more over his head. A further eternity was it until the clatter of hoofs + on the courtyard stones and their thunder on the planks above him brought + him the news that Tressan was riding home. He heard the hoofs quicken, and + their loud rattle on the road that led down to the Isere, a half-mile + away; and then, when the hoof-beats grew more distant, there came again + the echo of voices up above. + </p> + <p> + Was it not over yet? Dear God! would it never end? He felt that a few + moments more of this immersion and he should be done for utterly; his + numbness must rob him of the power to cross the moat. + </p> + <p> + Suddenly the first welcome sound he had heard that night came to his ears. + Chains creaked, hinges groaned, and the great black pall above him began + gradually to rise. Faster it went, till, at last, it fell back into + position, flat with the wall of the chateau, and such little light as + there was from the moon was beating down upon his frozen face. + </p> + <p> + He let the chain go, and, with strokes swift and silent as he could + contrive, he crossed the water. He clambered up the bank, almost bereft of + strength. A moment he crouched there listening. Had he moved too soon? Had + he been incautious? + </p> + <p> + Nothing stirred behind him to confirm his fears. He crept softly across + the hard ground of the road where he had landed. Then, when the yielding, + silent turf was under his feet, he gave not another thought for his + numbness, but started to run as a man runs in a nightmare, so little did + the speed of his movements match the pace of his desire to set a distance + between himself and Condillac. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX. THROUGH THE NIGHT + </h2> + <p> + It wanted something over an hour to midnight when Monsieur de Garnache + started out in his sodden clothes to run from Condillac. He bore away to + the north, and continued running until he had covered a mile or so, when + perforce he must slacken his pace lest presently he should have to give + way to utter exhaustion. He trudged on bravely thereafter, at a good, + swinging pace, realizing that in moving briskly lay his salvation from + such ill effects as might otherwise attend his too long immersion. His run + had set a pleasant glow upon his skin and seemed to have thawed the frozen + condition of his joints. Yet he could not disguise from himself that he + was sorely worn by that night’s happenings, and that, if he would reach + his goal, he must carefully husband such strength as yet remained him. + </p> + <p> + That goal of his was Voiron, some four leagues distant to the north, + where, at the inn of the Beau Paon, his man, Rabecque, should be lodged, + ready for his coming at any time. Once already, when repairing to + Condillac, he had travelled by that road, and it was so direct that there + seemed scant fear of his mistaking it. On he plodded through the night, + his way lighted for him by the crescent moon, the air so still that, + despite his wet garments, being warmed as he was by his brisk movements, + he never felt the cold of it. + </p> + <p> + He had overheard enough of what had been said by Marius to Valerie to + understand the business that was afoot for the morrow, and he doubted him + that he had not sufficiently injured the Dowager’s son to make him refrain + from or adjourn his murderous ride across the border into Savoy. + </p> + <p> + Garnache’s purpose now was to reach Voiron, there to snatch a brief rest, + and then, equipped anew to set out with his man for La Rochette and + anticipate the fell plans of Marius and Fortunio. + </p> + <p> + He might have experienced elation at his almost miraculous escape and at + the circumstance that he was still at large to carry this duel with the + Condillacs to a fitting finish, were it not for the reflection that but + for his besetting sin of hastiness he might now be travelling in dry + garments toward La Rochette, with mademoiselle beside him. Once again that + rash temper of his had marred an enterprise that was on the point of + succeeding. And yet, even as he regretted his rashness, rage stirred him + again at the thought of Marius crushing that slender shape against him and + seeking to force his odious kisses upon her pure, immaculate lips. And + then the thought of her, left behind at Condillac at the mercy of Marius + and that she-devil the Marquise, and the fears that of a sudden leapt up + in his mind, brought him to a standstill, as though he were contemplating + the incomparable folly of a return. He beat his hands together for a + moment in a frenzy of anguish; he threw back his head and raised his eyes + to the sky above with a burst of imprecations on his lips. And then + reflection brought him peace. No, no; they dare offer her no hurt. To do + so must irrevocably lose them La Vauvraye; and it was their covetousness + had made them villains. Upon that covetousness did their villainy rest, + and he need fear from them no wanton ruthlessness that should endanger + their chance of profit. + </p> + <p> + He trudged on, reassured. He had been a fool so to give way to fear; as + great a fool as he had been when he had laid hands on Marius to quell his + excessive amorousness. Dieu! Was he bewitched? What ailed him? Again he + paused there in the night to think the situation out. + </p> + <p> + A dozen thoughts, all centering about Valerie, came crowding in upon his + brain, till in the end a great burst of laughter—the laughter of a + madman almost, eerie and terrific as it rang upon the silent night broke + from his parted lips. That brief moment of introspection had revealed him + to himself, and the revelation had fetched that peal of mocking laughter + from him. + </p> + <p> + He realized now, at last, that not because the Queen had ordered him to + procure Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye’s enlargement had he submitted to + assume a filthy travesty, to set his neck in jeopardy, to play the lackey + and the spy. It was because something in Valerie’s eyes, something in her + pure, lily face had moved him to it; and simultaneously had come the + thought of the relation in which she stood to that man at La Rochette + whose life he now sought to save for her, and it had stabbed him with a + bitterness no misfortune, no failure yet had brought him. + </p> + <p> + He trudged on, knowing himself for what he was a fool who, after close + upon forty years of a strenuous life in which no petticoat had played a + part, was come under the spell of a pair of innocent eyes belonging to a + child almost young enough to have been his daughter. + </p> + <p> + He despised himself a little for his weakness; he despised himself for his + apostasy from the faith that had governed his life—the faith to keep + himself immune from the folly to which womanhood had driven so many a + stout man. + </p> + <p> + And yet, mock himself, despise himself as he would, a great tenderness, a + great desire grew strong in his soul that night as he trudged on toward + distant Voiron. Mile after mile her image kept him company, and once, when + he had left Voreppe behind him, the greater portion of his journey done, + some devil whispered in his ear that he was weary; that he would be + over-weary on the morrow for any ride to La Rochette. He had done all that + mortal man could do; let him rest to-morrow whilst Marius and Fortunio + accomplished by Florimond what the fever had begun. + </p> + <p> + A cold perspiration broke on him as he wrestled with that grim temptation. + Valerie was his; she belonged to him by the right of dangers shared; never + had mother in her labours been nearer death for the offspring’s sake than + had he for Valerie during the days that were sped and the hours that were + but gone. She belonged to him by the title of those dangers he had been + through. What had Florimond done to establish his claim to her? He had + remained absent during long years, a-warring in a foreign land. With how + many banal loves might not the fellow in that time have strewn his + soldier’s path! Garnache knew well how close does Cupid stalk in the wake + of Mars, knew well the way of these gay soldiers and the lightness of + their loves. + </p> + <p> + Was, then, this fellow to come now and claim her, when perils were past, + when there was naught left to do but lead her to the altar? Could he be + worthy of such a pearl of womanhood, this laggard who, because a fever + touched him, sat him down in an inn within a few hours’ ride of her to + rest him, as though the world held no such woman as Valerie? + </p> + <p> + And she, herself, by what ties was she bound to him? By the ties of an old + promise, given at an age when she knew not what love meant. He had talked + of it with her, and he knew how dispassionately she awaited Florimond’s + return. Florimond might be betrothed to her—her father and his had + encompassed that between them—but no lover of hers was he. + </p> + <p> + Thus far did his thoughts journey, and temptation gripped him ever more + and more strongly. And then his manhood and his honour awoke with a + shudder, as awakens a man from an ugly dream. What manner of fool was he? + he asked himself again. Upon what presumptions did he base his silly + musings? Did he suppose that even were there no Florimond, it would be + left for a harsh, war-worn old greybeard such as he to awaken tenderness + in the bosom of that child? The tenderness of friendship perhaps—she + had confessed to that; but the tenderness of her sweet love must be won by + a younger, comelier man. + </p> + <p> + If love had indeed touched him at last, let him be worthy of it and of her + who inspired it. Let him strain every sinew in her service, asking no + guerdon; let him save the life of the man to whom she was affianced; let + him save her from the clutches of the Marquise de Condillac and her + beautiful, unscrupulous son. + </p> + <p> + He put his folly from him and-went on, seeking to hold his mind to the + planning of his to-morrow’s journey and its business. He had no means to + know that at that very hour Valerie was on her knees by her little white + bed, in the Northern Tower of Condillac, praying for the repose of the + soul of Monsieur de Garnache—the bravest gentleman, the noblest + friend she had ever known. For she accounted him dead, and she thought + with horror of his body lying in the slime under the cold waters of the + moat beneath the window of her antechamber. A change seemed to have come + upon her. Her soul was numb, her courage seemed dead, and little care had + she in that hour of what might betide her now. + </p> + <p> + Florimond was coming, she remembered: coming to wed her. Ah, well! It + mattered little, since Monsieur de Garnache was dead—as though it + could have mattered had he been living! + </p> + <p> + Three hours of his long striding brought Garnache at last to Voiron, and + the echo of his footsteps rang through the silent streets and scared a + stray cat or two that were preying out of doors. There was no watch in the + little township and no lights, but by the moon’s faint glimmer Garnache + sought the inn of the Beau Paon, and found it at the end of a little + wandering. A gaudy peacock, with tail spread wide, was the sign above the + door on which he thumped and kicked as if he would have beaten it down. + </p> + <p> + It opened after some delay, and a man, half clad, candle in hand, a + night-cap on his hoary locks, showed an angry face at the opening. + </p> + <p> + At sight of the gaunt, bedraggled figure that craved admittance, the + landlord would have shut the door again, fearing that he had to do with + some wild bandit from the hills. But Garnache thrust his foot in the way. + </p> + <p> + “There is a man named Rabecque, from Paris, lodging here. I must have + instant speech with him,” said he; and his words, together with the crisp, + commanding tones in which they were uttered, had their effect upon the + host. + </p> + <p> + Rabecque had been playing the great lord during the week he had spent at + Voiron, and had known how to command a certain deference and regard. That + this tatterdemalion, with the haughty voice, should demand to see him at + that hour of the night, with such scant unconcern of how far he might + incommode the great Monsieur Rabecque, earned for him too a certain + measure of regard, though still alloyed with some suspicion. + </p> + <p> + The landlord bade him enter. He did not know whether Monsieur Rabecque + would forgive him for being disturbed; he could not say whether Monsieur + Rabecque would consent to see this visitor at such an hour; very probably + he would not. Still, monsieur might enter. + </p> + <p> + Garnache cut him short before he had half done, announced his name and + bade him convey it to Rabecque. The alacrity with which the lackey stirred + from his bed upon hearing who it was that had arrived impressed the host + not a little, but not half so much as it impressed him presently to + observe the deference with which this great Monsieur Rabecque of Paris + confronted the scarecrow below stairs when he was brought into its + presence. + </p> + <p> + “You are safe and sound, monsieur?” he cried, in deferential joy. + </p> + <p> + “Aye, by a miracle, mon fils,” Garnache answered him, with a short laugh. + “Help me to bed; then bring me a cup of spiced wine. I have swum a moat + and done other wonders in these clothes.” + </p> + <p> + The host and Rabecque bustled now to minister to his wants between them, + and when, jaded and worn, Garnache lay at last between good-smelling + sheets with the feeling in him that he was like to sleep until the day of + judgment, he issued his final orders. + </p> + <p> + “Awake me at daybreak, Rabecque,” said he drowsily. “We must be stirring + then. Have horse ready and clothes for me. I shall need you to wash me + clean and shave me and make me what I was before your tricks and dyes + turned me into what I have been this week and more. Take away the light. + At daybreak! Don’t let me sleep beyond that as you value your place with + me. We shall have brisk work to-morrow. At—daybreak—Rabecque!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX. FLORIMOND DE CONDILLAC + </h2> + <p> + It was noon of the next day when two horsemen gained the heights above La + Rochette and paused to breathe their nags and take a survey of the little + township in the plain at their feet. One of these was Monsieur de + Garnache, the other was his man Rabecque. But it was no longer the + travestied Garnache that Condillac had known as “Battista” during the past + days, it was that gentleman as he had been when first he presented himself + at the chateau. Rabecque had shaved him, and by means of certain unguents + had cleansed his skin and hair of the dyes with which he had earlier + overlaid them. + </p> + <p> + That metamorphosis, of itself, was enough to set Garnache in a good + humour; he felt himself again, and the feeling gave him confidence. His + mustachios bristled as fiercely as of old, his skin was clear and healthy, + and his dark brown hair showed ashen at the temples. He was becomingly + arrayed in a suit of dark brown camlet, with rows of close-set gold + buttons running up his hanging sleeves; a leather jerkin hid much of his + finery, and his great boots encased his legs. He wore a brown hat, with a + tallish crown and a red feather, and Rabecque carried his cloak for him, + for the persistent Saint Martin’s summer rendered that day of November + rather as one of early autumn. + </p> + <p> + A flood of sunshine descended from a cloudless sky to drench the country + at their feet, and all about them the trees preserved a green that was but + little touched by autumnal browning. + </p> + <p> + Awhile he paused there on the heights; then he gave his horse a touch of + the spur, and they started down the winding road that led into La + Rochette. A half-hour later they were riding under the porte cochere of + the inn of the Black Boar. Of the ostler who hastened forward to take + their reins Monsieur de Garnache inquired if the Marquis de Condillac were + lodged there. He was answered in the affirmative, and he got down at once + from his horse. Indeed, but for the formality of the thing, he might have + spared himself the question, for lounging about the courtyard were a score + of stalwart weather-tanned fellows, whose air and accoutrements proclaimed + them soldiers. It required little shrewdness to guess in them the personal + followers of the Marquis, the remainder of the little troop that had + followed the young seigneur to the wars when, some three years ago, he had + set out from Condillac. + </p> + <p> + Garnache gave orders for the horses to be cared for, and bade Rabecque get + himself fed in the common room. Heralded by the host, the Parisian then + mounted the stairs to Monsieur de Condillac’s apartments. + </p> + <p> + The landlord led the way to the inn’s best room, turned the handle, and, + throwing wide the door, stood aside for Monsieur de Garnache to enter. + </p> + <p> + From within the chamber came the sounds of a scuffle, a man’s soft laugh, + and a girl’s softer intercession. + </p> + <p> + “Let me go, monsieur. Of your pity, let me go. Some one is coming.” + </p> + <p> + “And what care I who comes?” answered a voice that seemed oppressed by + laughter. + </p> + <p> + Garnache strode into the chamber—spacious and handsomely furnished + as became the best room of the Auberge du Sanglier Noir—to find a + meal spread on the table, steaming with an odour promising of good things, + but neglected by the guest for the charms of the serving-wench, whose + waist he had imprisoned. As Garnache’s tall figure loomed before him he + let the girl go and turned a half-laughing, half-startled face upon the + intruder. + </p> + <p> + “Who the devil may you be?” he inquired, and a brown eye, rakish and + roving in its glance, played briskly over the Parisian, whilst Garnache + himself returned the compliment, and calmly surveyed this florid gentleman + of middle height with the fair hair and regular features. + </p> + <p> + The girl scurried by and darted from the room, dodging the smiting hand + which the host raised as she flew past him. The Parisian felt his gorge + rising. Was this the sort of fever that had kept Monsieur le Marquis at La + Rochette, whilst mademoiselle was suffering in durance at Condillac? His + last night’s jealous speculations touching a man he did not know had + leastways led him into no exaggeration. He found just such a man as he had + pictured—a lightly-loving, pleasure-taking roysterer, with never a + thought beyond the amusement which the hour afforded him. + </p> + <p> + With curling lip Garnache bowed stiffly, and in a cold, formal voice he + announced himself. + </p> + <p> + “My name is Martin Marie Rigobert de Garnache. I am an emissary dispatched + from Paris by her Majesty the Queen-mother to procure the enlargement of + Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye from the durance in which she is held by + madame your stepmother.” + </p> + <p> + The pleasant gentleman’s eyebrows went up; a smile that was almost + insolent broke on his face. + </p> + <p> + “That being so, monsieur, why the devil are you here?” + </p> + <p> + “I am here, monsieur,” answered him Garnache, throwing back his head, his + nostrils quivering, “because you are not at Condillac.” + </p> + <p> + The tone was truculent to the point of defiance, for despite the firm + resolve he had taken last night never again to let his temper overmaster + him, already Garnache’s self-control was slipping away. + </p> + <p> + The Marquis noted the tone, and observed the man. In their way he liked + both; in their way he disliked both. But he clearly saw that this peppery + gentleman must be treated less cavalierly, or trouble would come of it. So + he waved him gracefully to the table, where a brace of flagons stood amid + the steaming viands. + </p> + <p> + “You will dine with me, monsieur,” said he, the utmost politeness marking + his utterance now. “I take it that since you have come here in quest of me + you have something to tell me. Shall we talk as we eat? I detest a lonely + meal.” + </p> + <p> + The florid gentleman’s tone and manner were mollifying in the extreme. + Garnache had risen early and ridden far; the smell of the viands had + quickened an appetite already very keen; moreover, since he and this + gentleman were to be allies, it was as well they should not begin by + quarrelling. + </p> + <p> + He bowed less stiffly, expressed his willingness and his thanks, laid hat + and whip and cloak aside, unbuckled and set down his sword, and, that + done, took at table the place which his host himself prepared him. + </p> + <p> + Garnache took more careful stock of the Marquis now. He found much to like + in his countenance. It was frank and jovial; obviously that of a + sensualist, but, leastways, an honest sensualist. He was dressed in black, + as became a man who mourned his father, yet with a striking richness of + material, whilst his broad collar of fine point and the lace cuffs of his + doublet were worth a fortune. + </p> + <p> + What time they ate Monsieur de Garnache told of his journey from Paris and + of his dealings with Tressan and his subsequent adventures at Condillac. + He dwelt passingly upon the manner in which they had treated him, and + found it difficult to choose words to express the reason for his returning + in disguise to play the knight-errant to Valerie. He passed on to speak of + last night’s happenings and of his escape. Throughout, the Marquis heard + him with a grave countenance and a sober, attentive glance, yet, when he + had finished a smile crept round the sensual lips. + </p> + <p> + “The letter that I had at Milan prepared me for some such trouble as + this,” said he, and Garnache was amazed at the lightness of his tone, just + as he had been amazed to see the fellow keep his countenance at the + narrative of mademoiselle’s position. “I guessed that my beautiful + stepmother intended me some such scurviness from the circumstance of her + having kept me in ignorance of my father’s death. But frankly, sir, your + tale by far outstrips my wildest imaginings. You have behaved very—very + bravely in this affair. You seem, in fact, to have taken a greater + interest in Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye’s enlargement than the Queen could + have a right to expect of you.” And he smiled, a world of suggestion in + his eyes. Garnache sat back in his chair and stared at the man. + </p> + <p> + “This levity, monsieur, on such a subject, leaves me thunderstruck,” he + said at last. + </p> + <p> + “Diable!” laughed the other. “You are too prone, after your trials; to + view its tragic rather than its comic side. Forgive me if I am smitten + only with the humour of the thing.” + </p> + <p> + “The humour of the thing!” gurgled Garnache, his eyes starting from his + head. Then out leapt that temper of his like an eager hound that has been + suddenly unleashed. He brought down his clenched hand upon the table, + caught in passing a flagon, and sent it crashing to the floor. If there + was a table near at hand when his temper went, he never failed to treat it + so. + </p> + <p> + “Par la mort Dieu! monsieur, you see but the humour of it, do you? And + what of that poor child who is lying there, suffering this incarceration + because of her fidelity to a promise given you?” + </p> + <p> + The statement was hardly fully accurate. But it served its purpose. The + other’s face became instantly, grave. + </p> + <p> + “Calm yourself, I beg, monsieur,” he cried, raising a soothing hand. “I + have offended you somewhere; that is plain. There is something here that I + do not altogether understand. You say that Valerie has suffered on account + of a promise given me? To what are you referring?” + </p> + <p> + “They hold her a prisoner, monsieur, because they wish to wed her to + Marius,” answered Garnache, striving hard to cool his anger. + </p> + <p> + “Parfaitement! That much I understood.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, monsieur, is the rest not plain? Because she is betrothed to + you—” He paused. He saw, at last, that he was stating something not + altogether accurate. But the other took his meaning there and then, lay + back in his chair, and burst out laughing. + </p> + <p> + The blood hummed through Garnache’s head as he tightened his lips and + watched this gentleman indulge his inexplicable mirth. Surely Monsieur de + Condillac was possessed of the keenest sense of humour in all France. He + laughed with a will, and Garnache sent up a devout prayer that the laugh + might choke him. The noise of it filled the hostelry. + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” said Garnache, with an ever-increasing tartness, “there is a + by-word has it ‘Much laughter, little wit.’ In confidence won, is that + your case, monsieur?” + </p> + <p> + The other looked at him soberly a moment, then went off again. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur, monsieur!” he gasped, “you’ll be the death of me. For the love + of Heaven look less fierce. Is it my fault that I must laugh? The folly of + it all is so colossal. Three years from home, yet there is a woman keeps + faithful and holds to a promise given for her. Come, monsieur, you who + have seen the world, you must agree that there is in this something that + is passing singular, extravagantly amusing. My poor little Valerie!” he + spluttered through his half-checked mirth, “does she wait for me still? + does she count me still betrothed to her? And because of that, says ‘No’ + to brother Marius! Death of my life! I shall die of it.” + </p> + <p> + “I have a notion that you may, monsieur,” rasped Garnache’s voice, and + with it rasped Garnache’s chair upon the boards. He had risen, and he was + confronting his merry host very fiercely, white to the lips, his eyes + aflame. There was no mistaking his attitude, no mistaking his words. + </p> + <p> + “Eh?” gasped the other, recovering himself at last to envisage what + appeared to develop into a serious situation. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” said Garnache, his voice very cold, “do I understand that you + no longer intend to carry out your engagement and wed Mademoiselle de La + Vauvraye?” + </p> + <p> + A dull flush spread upon the Marquis’s face. He rose too, and across the + table he confronted his guest, his mien haughty, his eyes imperious. + </p> + <p> + “I thought, monsieur,” said he, with a great dignity, “I thought when I + invited you to sit at my table that your business was to serve me, however + little I might be conscious of having merited the honour. It seems instead + that you are come hither to affront me. You are my guest, monsieur. Let me + beg that you will depart before I resent a question on a matter which + concerns myself alone.” + </p> + <p> + The man was right, and Garnache was wrong. He had no title to take up the + affairs of Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye. But he was past reason now, and he + was not the man to brook haughtiness, however courteously it might be + cloaked. He eyed the Marquis’s flushed ace across the board, and his lip + curled. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” said he, “I take your meaning very fully. Half a word with me + is as good as a whole sentence with another. You have dubbed me in polite + phrases an impertinent. That I am not; and I resent the imputation.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that!” said the Marquis, with a half-laugh and a shrug. “If you + resent it—” His smile and his gesture made the rest plain. + </p> + <p> + “Exactly, monsieur,” was Garnache’s answer. “But I do not fight sick men.” + </p> + <p> + Florimond’s brows grew wrinkled, his eyes puzzled. + </p> + <p> + “Sick men!” he echoed. “Awhile ago, monsieur, you appeared to cast a doubt + upon my sanity. Is it a case of the drunkard who thinks all the world + drunk but himself?” + </p> + <p> + Garnache gazed at him. That doubt he had entertained grew now into + something like assurance. + </p> + <p> + “I know not whether it is the fever makes your tongue run so—” he + began, when the other broke in, a sudden light of understanding in his + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “You are at fault,” he cried. “I have no fever.” + </p> + <p> + “But then your letter to Condillac?” demanded Garnache, lost now in utter + amazement. + </p> + <p> + “What of it? I’ll swear I never said I had a fever.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll swear you did.” + </p> + <p> + “You give me the lie, then?” + </p> + <p> + But Garnache waved his hands as if he implored the other, to have done + with giving and taking offence. There was some misunderstanding somewhere, + he realized, and sheer astonishment had cooled his anger. His only aim now + was to have this obscure thing made clear. + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” he cried. “I am seeking enlightenment.” + </p> + <p> + Florimond smiled. + </p> + <p> + “I may have said that we were detained by a fever; but I never said the + patient was myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Who then? Who else?” cried Garnache. + </p> + <p> + “Why, now I understand, monsieur. But it is my wife who has the fever.” + </p> + <p> + “Your—!” Garnache dared not trust himself to utter the word. + </p> + <p> + “My wife, monsieur,” the Marquis repeated. “The journey proved too much + for her, travelling at the rate she did.” + </p> + <p> + A silence fell. Garnache’s long chin sank on to his breast, and he stood + there, his eyes upon the tablecloth, his thoughts with the poor innocent + child who waited at Condillac, so full of trust and faith and loyalty to + this betrothed of hers who had come home with a wife out of Italy. + </p> + <p> + And then, while he stood so and Florimond was regarding him curiously, the + door opened, and the host appeared. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur le Marquis,” said he, “there are two gentlemen below asking to + see you. One of them is Monsieur Marius de Condillac.” + </p> + <p> + “Marius?” cried the Marquis, and he started round with a frown. + </p> + <p> + “Marius?” breathed Garnache, and then, realizing that the assassins had + followed so close upon his heels, he put all thoughts from his mind other + than that of the immediate business. He had, himself, a score to settle + with them. The time was now. He swung round on his heel, and before he + knew what he had said the words were out: + </p> + <p> + “Bring them up, Monsieur l’Hote.” + </p> + <p> + Florimond looked at him in surprise. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, by all means, if monsieur wishes it,” said he, with a fine irony. + </p> + <p> + Garnache looked at him, then back at the hesitating host. + </p> + <p> + “You have heard,” said he coolly. “Bring them up.” + </p> + <p> + “Bien, monsieur,” replied the host, withdrawing and closing the door after + him. + </p> + <p> + “Your interference in my affairs grows really droll, monsieur,” said the + Marquis tartly. + </p> + <p> + “When you shall have learned to what purpose I am interfering, you’ll find + it, possibly, not quite so droll,” was the answer, no less tart. “We have + but a moment, monsieur. Listen while I tell you the nature of their + errand.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI. THE GHOST IN THE CUPBOARD + </h2> + <p> + Garnache had but a few minutes in which to unfold his story, and he + needed, in addition, a second or two in which to ponder the situation as + he now found it. + </p> + <p> + His first reflection was that Florimond, since he was now married, might + perhaps, instead of proving Valerie’s saviour from Marius, join forces + with his brother in coercing her into this alliance with him. But from + what Valerie herself had told him he was inclined to think more favourably + of Florimond and to suppress such doubts as these. Still he could incur no + risks; his business was to serve Valerie and Valerie only; to procure at + all costs her permanent liberation from the power of the Condillacs. To + make sure of this he must play upon Florimond’s anger, letting him know + that Marius had journeyed to La Rochette for the purpose of murdering his + half-brother. That he but sought to murder him to the end that he might be + removed from his path to Valerie, was a circumstance that need not too + prominently be presented. Still, presented it must be, for Florimond would + require to know by what motive his brother was impelled ere he could + credit him capable of such villainy. + </p> + <p> + Succinctly, but tellingly, Garnache brought out the story of the plot that + had been laid for Florimond’s assassination, and it joyed him to see the + anger rising in the Marquis’s face and flashing from his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “What reason have they for so damnable a deed?” he cried, between + incredulity and indignation. + </p> + <p> + “Their overweening ambition. Marius covets Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye’s + estates.” + </p> + <p> + “And to gain his ends he would not stop at murdering me? Is it, indeed, + the truth you tell me?” + </p> + <p> + “I pledge my honour for the truth of it,” answered Garnache, watching him + closely. Florimond looked at him a moment. The steady glance of those blue + eyes and the steady tone of that crisp voice scattered his last doubt. + </p> + <p> + “The villains!” cried the Marquis. “The fools!” he added. “For me, Marius + had been welcome to Valerie. He might have found in me an ally to aid him + in the urging of his suit. But now—” He raised his clenched hand and + shook it in the air, as if in promise of the battle he would deliver. + </p> + <p> + “Good,” said Garnache, reassured. “I hear their steps upon the stairs. + They must not find me with you.” + </p> + <p> + A moment later the door opened, and Marius, very bravely arrayed, entered + the room, followed closely by Fortunio. Neither showed much ill effects of + last night’s happenings, save for a long dark-brown scar that ran athwart + the captain’s cheek, where Garnache’s sword had ploughed it. + </p> + <p> + They found Florimond seated quietly at table, and as they entered he rose + and came forward with a friendly smile to greet his brother. His sense of + humour was being excited; he was something of an actor, and the role he + had adopted in the comedy to be played gave him a certain grim + satisfaction. He would test for himself the truth of what Monsieur de + Garnache had told him concerning his brother’s intentions. Marius received + his advances very coolly. He took his brother’s hand, submitted to his + brother’s kiss; but neither kiss nor hand-pressure did he return. + Florimond affected not to notice this. + </p> + <p> + “You are well, my dear Marius, I hope,” said he, and thrusting him out at + arms’ length, he held him by the shoulders and regarded him critically. + “Ma foi, but you are changed into a comely well-grown man. And your mother—she + is well, too, I trust.” + </p> + <p> + “I thank you, Florimond, she is well,” said Marius stiffly. + </p> + <p> + The Marquis took his hands from his brother’s shoulders; his florid, + good-natured face smiling ever, as if this were the happiest moment of his + life. + </p> + <p> + “It is good to see France again, my dear Marius,” he told his brother. “I + was a fool to have remained away so long. I am pining to be at Condillac + once more.” + </p> + <p> + Marius eyeing him, looked in vain for signs of the fever. He had expected + to find a debilitated, emaciated man; instead, he saw a very lusty, + healthy, hearty fellow, full of good humour, and seemingly full of + strength. He began to like his purpose less, despite such encouragement as + he gathered from the support of Fortunio. Still, it must be gone through + with. + </p> + <p> + “You wrote us that you had the fever,” he said, half inquiringly. + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! That is naught.” And Florimond snapped a strong finger against a + stronger thumb. “But whom have you with you?” he asked, and his eyes took + the measure of Fortunio, standing a pace or two behind his master. + </p> + <p> + Marius presented his bravo. + </p> + <p> + “This is Captain Fortunio, the commander of our garrison of Condillac.” + </p> + <p> + The Marquis nodded good-humouredly towards the captain. + </p> + <p> + “Captain Fortunio? He is well named for a soldier of fortune. My brother, + no doubt, will have family matters to tell me of. If you will step below, + Monsieur le Capitaine, and drink a health or so while you wait, I shall be + honoured.” + </p> + <p> + The captain, nonplussed, looked at Marius, and Florimond surprised the + look. But Marius’s manner became still chillier. + </p> + <p> + “Fortunio here,” said he, and he half turned and let his hand fall on the + captain’s shoulder, “is my very good friend. I have no secrets from him.” + </p> + <p> + The instant lift of Florimond’s eyebrows was full of insolent, + supercilious disdain. Yet Marius did not fasten his quarrel upon that. He + had come to La Rochette resolved that any pretext would serve his turn. + But the sight of his brother so inflamed his jealousy that he had now + determined that the quarrel should be picked on the actual ground in which + it had its roots. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, as you will,” said the Marquis coolly. “Perhaps your friend will be + seated, and you, too, my dear Marius.” And he played the host to them with + a brisk charm. Setting chairs, he forced them to sit, and pressed wine + upon them. + </p> + <p> + Marius cast his hat and cloak on the chair where Garnache’s had been left. + The Parisian’s hat and cloak, he naturally assumed to belong to his + brother. The smashed flagon and the mess of wine upon the floor he scarce + observed, setting it down to some clumsiness, either his brother’s or a + servant’s. They both drank, Marius in silence, the captain with a toast. + </p> + <p> + “Your good return, Monsieur le Marquis,” said he, and Florimond thanked + him by an inclination of the head. Then, turning to Marius: + </p> + <p> + “And so,” he said, “you have a garrison at Condillac. What the devil has + been taking place there? I have had some odd news of you. It would almost + seem as if you were setting up as rebels in our quiet little corner of + Dauphiny.” + </p> + <p> + Marius shrugged his shoulders; his face suggested that he was + ill-humoured. + </p> + <p> + “Madame the Queen-Regent has seen fit to interfere in our concerns. We + Condillacs do not lightly brook interference.” + </p> + <p> + Florimond showed his teeth in a pleasant smile. + </p> + <p> + “That is true, that is very true, Pardieu! But what warranted this action + of Her Majesty’s?” + </p> + <p> + Marius felt that the time for deeds was come. This fatuous conversation + was but a futile waste of time. He set down his glass, and sitting back in + his chair he fixed his sullen black eyes full upon his half-brother’s + smiling brown ones. + </p> + <p> + “I think we have exchanged compliments enough,” said he, and Fortunio + wagged his head approvingly. There were too many men in the courtyard for + his liking, and the more time they waited, the more likely were they to + suffer interruption. Their aim must be to get the thing done quickly, and + then quickly to depart before an alarm could be raised. “Our trouble at + Condillac concerns Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye.” + </p> + <p> + Florimond started forward, with a ready assumption of lover-like + solicitude. + </p> + <p> + “No harm has come to her?” he cried. “Tell me that no harm has come to + her.” + </p> + <p> + “Reassure yourself,” answered Marius, with a sneer, a greyness that was of + jealous rage overspreading his face. “No harm has come to her whatever. + The trouble was that I sought to wed her, and she, because she is + betrothed to you, would have none of me. So we brought her to Condillac, + hoping always to persuade her. You will remember that she was under my + mother’s tutelage. The girl, however, could not be constrained. She + suborned one of our men to bear a letter to Paris for her, and in answer + to it the Queen sent a hot-headed, rash blunderer down to Dauphiny to + procure her liberation. He lies now at the bottom of the moat of + Condillac.” + </p> + <p> + Florimond’s face had assumed a look of horror and indignation. + </p> + <p> + “Do you dare tell me this?” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “Dare?” answered Marius, with an ugly laugh. “Men enough have died over + this affair already. That fellow Garnache left some bodies on our hands + last night before he set out for another world himself. You little dream + how far my daring goes in this matter. I’ll add as many more as need be to + the death roll that we have already, before you set foot in Condillac.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Florimond, as one upon whose mind a light breaks suddenly. “So, + that is the business on which you come to me. I doubted your + brotherliness, I must confess, my dear Marius. But tell me, brother mine, + what of our father’s wishes in this matter? Have you no respect for + those?” + </p> + <p> + “What respect had you?” flashed back Marius, his voice now raised in + anger. “Was it like a lover to remain away for three years—to let + all that time go by without ever a word from you to your betrothed? What + have you done to make good your claim to her?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, I confess; yet—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you shall do something now,” exclaimed Marius, rising. “I am here + to afford you the opportunity. If you would still win Mademoiselle de La + Vauvraye, you shall win her from me—at point of sword. Fortunio, see + to the door.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait, Marius!” cried Florimond, and he looked genuinely aghast. “Do not + forget that we are brothers, men of the same blood; that my father was + your father.” + </p> + <p> + “I choose to remember rather that we are rivals,” answered Marius, and he + drew his rapier. Fortunio turned the key in the lock. Florimond gave his + brother a long searching look, then with a sigh he picked up his sword + where it lay ready to his hand and thoughtfully unsheathed it. Holding the + hilt in one hand and the blade in the other he stood, bending the weapon + like a whip, whilst again he searchingly regarded his brother. + </p> + <p> + “Hear me a moment,” said he. “If you will force this unnatural quarrel + upon me, at least let the thing be decently done. Not here, not in these + cramped quarters, but out in the open let our meeting take place. If the + captain, there, will act for you, I’ll find a friend to do me the like + service.” + </p> + <p> + “We settle this matter here and now,” Marius answered him, in a tone of + calm finality. + </p> + <p> + “But if I were to kill you—” Florimond began. + </p> + <p> + “Reassure yourself,” said Marius with an ugly smile. + </p> + <p> + “Very well, then; either alternative will suit the case I wish to put. If + you were to kill me—it may be ranked as murder. The irregularity of + it could not be overlooked.” + </p> + <p> + “The captain, here, will act for both of us.” + </p> + <p> + “I am entirely at your service, gentlemen,” replied Fortunio pleasantly, + bowing to each in turn. + </p> + <p> + Florimond considered him. “I do not like his looks,” he objected. “He may + be the friend of your bosom, Marius; you may have no secrets from him; but + for my part, frankly, I should prefer the presence of some friend of my + own to keep his blade engaged.” + </p> + <p> + The Marquis’s manner was affable in the extreme. Now that it was settled + that they must fight, he appeared to have cast aside all scruples based + upon their consanguinity, and he discussed the affair with the greatest + bonhomie, as though he were disposing of a matter of how they should sit + down to table. + </p> + <p> + It gave them pause. The change was too abrupt. They did not like it. It + was as the calm that screens some surprise. Yet it was impossible he + should have been forewarned; impossible he could have had word of how they + proposed to deal with him. + </p> + <p> + Marius shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “There is reason in what you say,” he acknowledged; “but I am in haste. I + cannot wait while you go in search of a friend.” + </p> + <p> + “Why then,” he answered, with a careless laugh, “I must raise one from the + dead.” + </p> + <p> + Both stared at him. Was he mad? Had the fever touched his brain? Was that + healthy colour but the brand of a malady that rendered him delirious? + </p> + <p> + “Dieu! How you stare!” he continued, laughing in their faces. “You shall + see something to compensate you for your journey, messieurs. I have learnt + some odd tricks in Italy; they are a curious people beyond the Alps. What + did you say was the name of the man the Queen had sent from Paris?—he + who lies at the bottom of the moat of Condillac?” + </p> + <p> + “Let there be an end to this jesting,” growled Marius. “On guard, Monsieur + le Marquis!” + </p> + <p> + “Patience! patience!” Florimond implored him. “You shall have your way + with me, I promise you. But of your charity, messieurs, tell me first the + name of that man.” + </p> + <p> + “It was Garnache,” said Fortunio, “and if the information will serve you, + it was I who slew him.” + </p> + <p> + “You?” cried Florimond. “Tell me of it, I beg you.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you fool us?” questioned Marius in a rage that overmastered his + astonishment, his growing suspicion that here all was not quite as it + seemed. + </p> + <p> + “Fool you? But no. I do but wish to show you something that I learned in + Italy. Tell me how you slew him, Monsieur le Capitaine.” + </p> + <p> + “I think we are wasting time,” said the captain, angry too. He felt that + this smiling gentleman was deriding the pair of them; it crossed his mind + that for some purpose of his own the Marquis was seeking to gain time. He + drew his sword. + </p> + <p> + Florimond saw the act, watched it, and his eyes twinkled. Suddenly + Marius’s sword shot out at him. He leapt back beyond the table, and threw + himself on guard, his lips still wreathed in their mysterious smile. + </p> + <p> + “The time has come, messieurs,” said he. “I should have preferred to know + more of how you slew that Monsieur de Garnache; but since you deny me the + information, I shall do my best without it. I’ll try to conjure up his + ghost, to keep you entertained, Monsieur le Capitaine.” And then, raising + his voice, his sword, engaging now his brother’s: + </p> + <p> + “Ola, Monsieur de Garnache!” he cried. “To me!” + </p> + <p> + And then it seemed to those assassins that the Marquis had been neither + mad nor boastful when he had spoken of strange things he had learned + beyond the Alps, or else it was they themselves were turned light-headed, + for the doors of a cupboard at the far end of the room flew open suddenly, + and from between them stepped the stalwart figure of Martin de Garnache, a + grim smile lifting the corners of his mustachios, a naked sword in his + hand flashing back the sunlight that flooded through the window. + </p> + <p> + They paused, aghast, and they turned ashen; and then in the mind of each + arose the same explanation of this phenomenon. This Garnache wore the + appearance of the man who had announced himself by that name when he came + to Condillac a fortnight ago. Then, the sallow, black-haired knave who had + last night proclaimed himself as Garnache in disguise was some impostor. + That was the conclusion they promptly arrived at, and however greatly they + might be dismayed by the appearance of this ally of Florimond’s, yet the + conclusion heartened them anew. But scarce had they arrived at it when + Monsieur de Garnache’s crisp voice came swiftly to dispel it. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur le Capitaine,” it said, and Fortunio shivered at the sound, for + it was the voice he had heard but a few hours ago, “I welcome the + opportunity of resuming our last night’s interrupted sword-play.” And he + advanced deliberately. + </p> + <p> + Marius’s sword had fallen away from his brother’s, and the two combatants + stood pausing. Fortunio without more ado made for the door. But Garnache + crossed the intervening space in a bound. + </p> + <p> + “Turn!” he cried. “Turn, or I’ll put my sword through your back. The door + shall serve you presently, but it is odds that it will need a couple of + men to bear you through it. Look to your dirty skin!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII. THE OFFICES OF MOTHER CHURCH + </h2> + <p> + A couple of hours after the engagement in the Marquis de Condillac’s + apartments at the Sanglier Noir at La Rochette, Monsieur de Garnache, + attended only by Rabecque, rode briskly into France once more and made for + the little town of Cheylas, which is on the road that leads down to the + valley of the Isere and to Condillac. But not as far as the township did + he journey. On a hill, the slopes all cultivated into an opulent vineyard, + some two miles east of Cheylas, stood the low, square grey building of the + Convent of Saint Francis. Thither did Monsieur de Garnache bend his + horse’s steps. Up the long white road that crept zigzag through the + Franciscans’ vineyards rode the Parisian and his servant under the welcome + sunshine of that November afternoon. + </p> + <p> + Garnache’s face was gloomy and his eyes sad, for his thoughts were all of + Valerie, and he was prey to a hundred anxieties regarding her. + </p> + <p> + They gained the heights at last, and Rabecque got down to beat with his + whip upon the convent gates. + </p> + <p> + A lay-brother came to open, and in reply to Garnache’s request that he + might have a word with the Father Abbot, invited him to enter. + </p> + <p> + Through the cloisters about the great quadrangle, where a couple of monks, + their habits girt high as their knees, were busy at gardeners’ work, + Garnache followed his conductor, and up the steps to the Abbot’s chamber. + </p> + <p> + The master of the Convent of Saint Francis of Cheylas a tall, lean man + with an ascetic face, prominent cheekbones, and a nose not unlike + Garnache’s own—the nose of a man of action rather than of prayer—bowed + gravely to this stalwart stranger, and in courteous accents begged to be + informed in what he might serve him. + </p> + <p> + Hat in hand, Garnache took a step forward in that bare, scantily furnished + little room, permeated by the faint, waxlike odour that is peculiar to the + abode of conventuals. Without hesitation he stated the reason of his + visit. + </p> + <p> + “Father,” said he, “a son of the house of Condillac met his end this + morning at La Rochette.” + </p> + <p> + The monk’s eyes seemed to quicken, as though his interest in the outer + world had suddenly revived. + </p> + <p> + “It is the Hand of God,” he cried. “Their evil ways have provoked at last + the anger of Heaven. How did this unfortunate meet his death?” + </p> + <p> + Garnache shrugged his shoulders. + </p> + <p> + “De mortuis nil nisi bonum,” said he. His air was grave, his blue eyes + solemn, and the Abbot had little cause to suspect the closeness with which + that pair of eyes was watching him. He coloured faintly at the implied + rebuke, but he inclined his head as if submissive to the correction, and + waited for the other to proceed. + </p> + <p> + “There is the need, Father, to give his body burial,” said Garnache + gently. + </p> + <p> + But at that the monk raised his head, and a deeper flush the flush of + anger—spread now upon his sallow cheeks. Garnache observed it, and + was glad. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you come to me?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” echoed Garnache, and there was hesitancy now in his voice. “Is not + the burial of the dead enjoined by Mother Church? Is it not a part of your + sacred office?” + </p> + <p> + “You ask me this as you would challenge my reply,” said the monk, shaking + his head. “It is as you say, but it is not within our office to bury the + impious dead, nor those who in life were excommunicate and died without + repentance.” + </p> + <p> + “How can you assume he died without repentance?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not; but I assume he died without absolution, for there is no priest + who, knowing his name, would dare to shrive him, and if one should do it + in ignorance of his name and excommunication, why then it is not done at + all. Bid others bury this son of the house of Condillac; it matters no + more by what hands or in what ground he be buried than if he were the + horse he rode or the hound that followed him.” + </p> + <p> + “The Church is very harsh, Father,” said Garnache sternly. + </p> + <p> + “The Church is very just,” the priest answered him, more sternly still, a + holy wrath kindling his sombre eyes. + </p> + <p> + “He was in life a powerful noble,” said Garnache thoughtfully. “It is but + fitting that, being dead, honour and reverence should be shown his body.” + </p> + <p> + “Then let those who have themselves been honoured by the Condillacs honour + this dead Condillac now. The Church is not of that number, monsieur. Since + the late Marquis’s death the house of Condillac has been in rebellion + against us; our priests have been maltreated, our authority flouted; they + paid no tithes, approached no sacraments. Weary of their ungodliness the + Church placed its ban upon them; under this ban it seems they die. My heart + grieves for them; but—” + </p> + <p> + He spread his hands, long and almost transparent in their leanness, and on + his face a cloud of sorrow rested. + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless, Father,” said Garnache, “twenty brothers of Saint Francis + shall bear the body home to Condillac, and you yourself shall head this + grim procession.” + </p> + <p> + “I?” The monk shrank back before him, and his figure seemed to grow + taller. “Who are you, sir, that say to me what I shall do, the Church’s + law despite?” + </p> + <p> + Garnache took the Abbot by the sleeve of his rough habit and drew him + gently towards the window. There was a persuasive smile on his lips and in + his keen eyes which the monk, almost unconsciously, obeyed. + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you,” said Garnache, “and at the same time I shall seek to + turn you from your harsh purpose.” + </p> + <p> + At the hour at which Monsieur de Garnache was seeking to persuade the + Abbot of Saint Francis of Cheylas to adopt a point of view more kindly + towards a dead man, Madame de Condillac was at dinner, and with her was + Valerie de La Vauvraye. Neither woman ate appreciably. The one was + oppressed by sorrow, the other by anxiety, and the circumstance that they + were both afflicted served perhaps to render the Dowager gentler in her + manner towards the girl. + </p> + <p> + She watched the pale face and troubled eyes of Valerie; she observed the + almost lifeless manner in which she came and went as she was bidden, as + though a part of her had ceased to exist, and that part the part that + matters most. It did cross her mind that in this condition mademoiselle + might the more readily be bent to their will, but she dwelt not overlong + upon that reflection. Rather was her mood charitable, no doubt because she + felt herself the need of charity, the want of sympathy. + </p> + <p> + She was tormented by fears altogether disproportionate to their cause. A + hundred times she told herself that no ill could befall Marius. Florimond + was a sick man, and were he otherwise, there was still Fortunio to stand + by and see to it that the right sword pierced the right heart, else would + his pistoles be lost to him. + </p> + <p> + Nevertheless she was fretted by anxiety, and she waited impatiently for + news, fuming at the delay, yet knowing full well that news could not yet + reach her. + </p> + <p> + Once she reproved Valerie for her lack of appetite, and there was in her + voice a kindness Valerie had not heard for months—not since the old + Marquis died, nor did she hear it now, or, hearing it, she did not heed + it. + </p> + <p> + “You are not eating, child,” the Dowager said, and her eyes were gentle. + </p> + <p> + Valerie looked up like one suddenly awakened; and in that moment her eyes + filled with tears. It was as if the Dowager’s voice had opened the + floodgates of her sorrow and let out the tears that hitherto had been + repressed. The Marquise rose and waved the page and an attendant lackey + from the room. She crossed to Valerie’s side and put her arm about the + girl’s shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “What ails you, child?” she asked. For a moment the girl suffered the + caress; almost she seemed to nestle closer to the Dowager’s shoulder. + Then, as if understanding had come to her suddenly, she drew back and + quietly disengaged herself from the other’s arms. Her tears ceased; the + quiver passed from her lip. + </p> + <p> + “You are very good, madame,” she said, with a coldness that rendered the + courteous words almost insulting, “but nothing ails me save a wish to be + alone.” + </p> + <p> + “You have been alone too much of late,” the Dowager answered, persisting + in her wish to show kindness to Valerie; for all that, had she looked into + her own heart, she might have been puzzled to find a reason for her mood—unless + the reason lay in her own affliction of anxiety for Marius. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I have,” said the girl, in the same cold, almost strained voice. + “It was not by my own contriving.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but it was, child; indeed it was. Had you been reasonable you had + found us kinder. We had never treated you as we have done, never made a + prisoner of you.” + </p> + <p> + Valerie looked up into the beautiful ivory-white face, with its black eyes + and singularly scarlet lips, and a wan smile raised the corners of her + gentle mouth. + </p> + <p> + “You had no right—none ever gave it you—to set constraint and + restraint upon me.” + </p> + <p> + “I had—indeed, indeed I had,” the Marquise answered her, in a tone + of sad protest. “Your father gave me such a right when he gave me charge + of you.” + </p> + <p> + “Was it a part of your charge to seek to turn me from my loyalty to + Florimond, and endeavour to compel me by means gentle or ungentle into + marriage with Marius?” + </p> + <p> + “We thought Florimond dead; or, if not dead, then certainly unworthy of + you to leave you without news of him for years together. And if he was not + dead then, it is odds he will be dead by now.” The words slipped out + almost unconsciously, and the Marquise bit her lip and straightened + herself, fearing an explosion. But none came. The girl looked across the + table at the fire that smouldered on the hearth in need of being + replenished. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean, madame?” she asked; but her tone was listless, + apathetic, as of one who though uttering a question is incurious as to + what the answer may be. + </p> + <p> + “We had news some days ago that he was journeying homewards, but that he + was detained by fever at La Rochette. We have since heard that his fever + has grown so serious that there is little hope of his recovery.” + </p> + <p> + “And it was to solace his last moments that Monsieur Marius left Condillac + this morning?” + </p> + <p> + The Dowager looked sharply at the girl; but Valerie’s face continued + averted, her gaze resting on the fire. Her tone suggested nothing beyond a + natural curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said the Dowager. + </p> + <p> + “And lest his own efforts to help his brother out of this world should + prove insufficient he took Captain Fortunio with him?” said Valerie, in + the same indifferent voice. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” the Marquise almost hissed into the girl’s ear. + </p> + <p> + Valerie turned to her, a faint colour stirring in her white face. + </p> + <p> + “Just what I have said, madame. Would you know what I have prayed? All + night was I upon my knees from the moment that I recovered consciousness, + and my prayers were that Heaven might see fit to let Florimond destroy + your son. Not that I desire Florimond’s return, for I care not if I never + set eyes on him again. There is a curse upon this house, madame,” the girl + continued, rising from her chair and speaking now with a greater + animation, whilst the Marquise recoiled a step, her face strangely altered + and suddenly gone grey, “and I have prayed that that curse might be worked + out upon that assassin, Marius. A fine husband, madame, you would thrust + upon the daughter of Gaston de La Vauvraye.” + </p> + <p> + And turning, without waiting for an answer, she moved slowly down the + room, and took her way to her own desolate apartments, so full of memories + of him she mourned—of him, it seemed to her, she must always mourn; + of him who lay dead in the black waters of the moat beneath her window. + </p> + <p> + Stricken with a sudden, inexplicable terror, the Dowager, who for all her + spirit was not without a certain superstition, felt her knees loosen, and + she sank limply into a chair. She was amazed at the extent of Valerie’s + knowledge, and puzzled by it; she was amazed, too, at the seeming apathy + of Valerie for the danger in which Florimond stood, and at her avowal that + she did not care if she never again beheld him. But such amazement as came + to her was whelmed fathoms-deep in her sudden fears for Marius. If he + should die! She grew cold at the thought, and she sat there, her hands + folded in her lap, her face grey. That mention of the curse the Church had + put upon them had frozen her quick blood and turned her stout spirit to + mere water. + </p> + <p> + At last she rose and went out into the open to inquire if no messenger had + yet arrived, for all that she knew there was not yet time for any + messenger to have reached the chateau. She mounted the winding staircase + of stone that led to the ramparts, and there alone, in the November + sunshine, she paced to and fro for hours, waiting for news, straining her + eyes to gaze up the valley of the Isere, watching for the horseman that + must come that way. Then, as time sped on and the sun approached its + setting and still no one came, she bethought her that if harm had befallen + Marius, none would ride that night to Condillac. This very delay seemed + pregnant with news of disaster. And then she shook off her fears and tried + to comfort herself. There was not yet time. Besides, what had she to fear + for Marius? He was strong and quick, and Fortunio was by his side. A man + was surely dead by now at La Rochette; but that man could not be Marius. + </p> + <p> + At last, in the distance, she espied a moving object, and down on the + silent air of eventide came the far-off rattle of a horse’s hoofs. Some + one was riding, galloping that way. He was returned at last. She leaned on + the battlements, her breath coming in quick, short gasps, and watched the + horseman growing larger with every stride of his horse. + </p> + <p> + A mist was rising from the river, and it dimmed the figure; and she cursed + the mist for heightening her anxiety, for straining further her + impatience. Then a new fear was begotten in her mind. Why came one + horseman only where two should have ridden? Who was it that returned, and + what had befallen his companion? God send, at least, it might be Marius + who rode thus, at such a breakneck pace. + </p> + <p> + At last she could make him out. He was close to the chateau now, and she + noticed that his right arm was bandaged and hanging in a sling. And then a + scream broke from her, and she bit her lip hard to keep another in check, + for she had seen the horseman’s face, and it was Fortunio’s. Fortunio—and + wounded! Then, assuredly, Marius was dead! + </p> + <p> + She swayed where she stood. She set her hand on her bosom, above her + heart, as if she would have repressed the beating of the one, the heaving + of the other; her soul sickened, and her mind seemed to turn numb, as she + waited there for the news that should confirm her fears. + </p> + <p> + The hoofs of his horse thundered over the planks of the drawbridge, and + came clatteringly to halt as he harshly drew rein in the courtyard below. + There was a sound of running feet and men sprang to his assistance. Madame + would have gone below to meet him; but her limbs seemed to refuse their + office. She leaned against one of the merlons of the embattled parapet, + her eyes on the spot where he should emerge from the stairs, and thus she + waited, her eyes haggard, her face drawn. + </p> + <p> + He came at last, lurching in his walk, being overstiff from his long ride. + She took a step forward to meet him. Her lips parted. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” she asked him, and her voice sounded harsh and strained. “How has + the venture sped?” + </p> + <p> + “The only way it could,” he answered. “As you would wish it.” + </p> + <p> + At that she thought that she must faint. Her lungs seemed to writhe for + air, and she opened her lips and took long draughts of the rising mist, + never speaking for a moment or two until she had sufficiently recovered + from this tremendous revulsion from her fears. + </p> + <p> + “Then, where is Marius?” she asked at last. + </p> + <p> + “He has remained behind to accompany the body home. They are bringing it + here.” + </p> + <p> + “They?” she echoed. “Who are they?” + </p> + <p> + “The monks of Saint Francis of Cheylas,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + A something in his tone, a something in his shifty eyes, a cloud upon his + fair and usually so ingenuous looking countenance aroused her suspicions + and gave her resurrected courage pause. + </p> + <p> + She caught him viciously by the arms, and forced his glance to meet her + own in the fading daylight. + </p> + <p> + “It is the truth you are telling me, Fortunio?” she snapped, and her voice + was half-angry, half-fearful. + </p> + <p> + He faced her now, his eyes bold. He raised a hand to lend emphasis to his + words. + </p> + <p> + “I swear, madame, by my salvation, that Monsieur Marius is sound and + well.” + </p> + <p> + She was satisfied. She released his arm. + </p> + <p> + “Does he come to-night?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “They will be here to-morrow, madame. I rode on to tell you so.” + </p> + <p> + “An odd fancy, this of his. But”—and a sudden smile overspread her + face—“we may find a more useful purpose for one of these monks.” + </p> + <p> + An hour ago she would willingly have set mademoiselle at liberty in + exchange for the assurance that Marius had been successful in the business + that had taken him over the border into Savoy. She would have done it + gladly, content that Marius should be heir to Condillac. But now that + Condillac was assured her son, she must have more for him; her insatiable + greed for his advancement and prosperity was again upon her. Now, more + than ever—now that Florimond was dead—must she have La + Vauvraye for Marius, and she thought that mademoiselle would no longer be + difficult to bend. The child had fallen in love with that mad Garnache, + and when a woman is crossed in love, while her grief lasts it matters + little to her where she weds. Did she not know it out of the fund of her + own bitter experience? Was it not that—the compulsion her own father + had employed to make her find a mate in a man so much older than herself + as Condillac—that had warped her own nature, and done much to make + her what she was? + </p> + <p> + A lover she had had, and whilst he lived she had resisted them, and stood + out against this odious marriage that for convenience’ sake they forced + upon her. He was killed in Paris in a duel, and when the news of it came + to her, she had folded her hands and let them wed her to whom they listed. + </p> + <p> + Of just such a dejection of spirit had she observed the signs in Valerie; + let them profit by it while it lasted. They had been long enough without + Church ceremonies at Condillac. There should be two to-morrow to make up + for the empty time—a wedding and a burial. + </p> + <p> + She was going down the stairs, Fortunio a step behind her, when her mind + reverted to the happening at La Rochette. + </p> + <p> + “Was it well done?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “It made some stir,” said he. “The Marquis had men with him, and had the + affair taken place in France ill might have come of it.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall give me a full account of it,” said she, rightly thinking that + there was still something to be explained. Then she laughed softly. “Yes, + it was a lucky chance for us, his staying at La Rochette. Florimond was + born under an unlucky star, I think, and you under a lucky one, Fortunio.” + </p> + <p> + “I think so, too, as regards myself,” he answered grimly, and he thought + of the sword that had ploughed his cheek last night and pierced his + sword-arm that morning, and he thanked such gods as in his godlessness he + owned for the luck that had kept that sword from finding out his heart. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII. THE JUDGMENT OF GARNACHE + </h2> + <p> + On the morrow, which was a Friday and the tenth of November—a date + to be hereafter graven on the memory of all concerned in the affairs of + Condillac—the Dowager rose betimes, and, for decency’s sake, having + in mind the business of the day, she gowned herself in black. + </p> + <p> + Betimes, too, the Lord Seneschal rode out of Grenoble, attended by a + couple of grooms, and headed for Condillac, in doing which—little + though he suspected it—he was serving nobody’s interests more + thoroughly than Monsieur de Garnache’s. + </p> + <p> + Madame received him courteously. She was in a blithe and happy mood + that morning—the reaction from her yesterday’s distress of mind. The + world was full of promise, and all things had prospered with her and + Marius. Her boy was lord of Condillac; Florimond, whom she had hated and + who had stood in the way of her boy’s advancement, was dead and on his way + to burial; Garnache, the man from Paris who might have made trouble for + them had he ridden home again with the tale of their resistance, was + silenced for all time, and the carp in the moat would be feasting by now + upon what was left of him; Valerie de La Vauvraye was in a dejected frame + of mind that augured well for the success of the Dowager’s plans + concerning her, and by noon at latest there would be priests at Condillac, + and, if Marius still wished to marry the obstinate baggage, there would be + no difficulty as to that. + </p> + <p> + It was a glorious morning, mild and sunny as an April day, as though + Nature took a hand in the Dowager’s triumph and wished to make the best of + its wintry garb in honour of it. + </p> + <p> + The presence of this gross suitor of hers afforded her another source of + satisfaction. There would no longer be the necessity she once had dreaded + of listening to his suit for longer than it should be her pleasure to be + amused by him. But when Tressan spoke, he struck the first note of discord + in the perfect harmony which the Dowager imagined existed. + </p> + <p> + “Madame,” said he, “I am desolated that I am not a bearer of better + tidings. But for all that we have made the most diligent search, the man + Rabecque has not yet been apprehended. Still, we have not abandoned hope,” + he added, by way of showing that there was a silver lining to his cloud of + danger. + </p> + <p> + For just a moment madame’s brows were knitted. She had forgotten Rabecque + until now; but an instant’s reflection assured her that in forgetting him + she had done him no more than such honour as he deserved. She laughed, as + she led the way down the garden steps—the mildness of the day and + the brightness of her mood had moved her there to receive the Seneschal. + </p> + <p> + “From the sombreness of your tone one might fear your news to be of the + nature of some catastrophe. What shall it signify that Rabecque eludes + your men? He is but a lackey after all.” + </p> + <p> + “True,” said the Seneschal, very soberly; “but do not forget, I beg, that + he is the bearer of letters from one who is not a lackey.” + </p> + <p> + The laughter went out of her face at that. Here was something that had + been lost sight of in the all-absorbing joy of other things. In calling + the forgotten Rabecque to mind she had but imagined that it was no more + than a matter of the tale he might tell—a tale not difficult to + refute, she thought. Her word should always weigh against a lackey’s. But + that letter was a vastly different matter. + </p> + <p> + “He must be found, Tressan,” she said sharply. + </p> + <p> + Tressan smiled uneasily, and chewed at his beard. + </p> + <p> + “No effort shall be spared,” he promised her. “Of that you may be very + sure. The affairs of the province are at a standstill,” he added, that + vanity of his for appearing a man of infinite business rising even in an + hour of such anxiety, for to himself, no less than to her, was there + danger should Rabecque ever reach his destination with the papers Garnache + had said he carried. + </p> + <p> + “The affairs of the province are at a standstill,” he repeated, “while all + my energies are bent upon this quest. Should we fail to have news of his + capture in Dauphiny, we need not, nevertheless, despond. I have sent men + after him along the three roads that lead to Paris. They are to spare + neither money nor horses in picking up his trail and effecting his + capture. After all, I think we shall have him.” + </p> + <p> + “He is our only danger now,” the Marquise answered, “for Florimond is dead—of + the fever,” she added, with a sneering smile which gave Tressan sensations + as of cold water on his spine. “It were an irony of fate if that miserable + lackey were to reach Paris now and spoil the triumph for which we have + worked so hard.” + </p> + <p> + “It were, indeed,” Tressan agreed with her, “and we must see that he does + not.” + </p> + <p> + “But if he does,” she returned, “then we must stand together.” And with + that she set her mind at ease once more, her mood that morning being very + optimistic. + </p> + <p> + “Always, I hope, Clotilde,” he answered, and his little eyes leered up out + of the dimples of fat in which they were embedded. “I have stood by you + like a true friend in this affair; is it not so?” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed; do I deny it?” she answered half scornfully. + </p> + <p> + “As I shall stand by you always when the need arises. You are a little in + my debt concerning Monsieur de Garnache.” + </p> + <p> + “I—I realize it,” said she, and she felt again as if the sunshine + were gone from the day, the blitheness from her heart. She was moved to + bid him cease leering at her and to take himself and his wooing to the + devil. But she bethought her that the need for him might not yet utterly + be passed. Not only in the affair of Garnache—in which he stood + implicated as deeply as herself—might she require his loyalty, but + also in the matter of what had befallen yesterday at La Rochette; for + despite Fortunio’s assurances that things had gone smoothly, his tale hung + none too convincingly together; and whilst she did not entertain any + serious fear of subsequent trouble, yet it might be well not utterly to + banish the consideration of such a possibility, and to keep the Seneschal + her ally against it. So she told him now, with as much graciousness as she + could command, that she fully realized her debt, and when, encouraged, he + spoke of his reward, she smiled upon him as might a girl smile upon too + impetuous a wooer whose impetuosity she deprecates yet cannot wholly + withstand. + </p> + <p> + “I am a widow of six months,” she reminded him, as she had reminded him + once before. Her widowhood was proving a most convenient refuge. “It is + not for me to listen to a suitor, however my foolish heart may incline. + Come to me in another six months’ time.” + </p> + <p> + “And you will wed me then?” he bleated. + </p> + <p> + By an effort her eyes smiled down upon him, although her face was a trifle + drawn. + </p> + <p> + “Have I not said that I will listen to no suitor? and what is that but a + suitor’s question?” + </p> + <p> + He caught her hand; he would have fallen on his knees there and then, at + her feet, on the grass still wet with the night’s mist, but that he in + time bethought him of how sadly his fine apparel would be the sufferer. + </p> + <p> + “Yet I shall not sleep, I shall know no rest, no peace until you have + given me an answer. Just an answer is all I ask. I will set a curb upon my + impatience afterwards, and go through my period of ah—probation + without murmuring. Say that you, will marry me in six months’ time—at + Easter, say.” + </p> + <p> + She saw that an answer she must give, and so she gave him the answer that + he craved. And he—poor fool!—never caught the ring of her + voice, as false as the ring of a base coin; never guessed that in + promising she told herself it would be safe to break that promise six + months hence, when the need of him and his loyalty would be passed. + </p> + <p> + A man approached them briskly from the chateau. He brought news that a + numerous company of monks was descending the valley of the Isere towards + Condillac. A faint excitement stirred her, and accompanied by Tressan she + retraced her steps and made for the battlements, whence she might overlook + their arrival. + </p> + <p> + As they went Tressan asked for an explanation of this cortege, and she + answered him with Fortunio’s story of how things had sped yesterday at La + Rochette. + </p> + <p> + Up the steps leading to the battlements she went ahead of him, with a + youthful, eager haste that took no thought for the corpulence and + short-windedness of the following Seneschal. From the heights she looked + eastwards, shading her eyes from the light of the morning sun, and + surveyed the procession which with slow dignity paced down the valley + towards Condillac. + </p> + <p> + At its head walked the tall, lean figure of the Abbot of Saint Francis of + Cheylas, bearing on high a silvered crucifix that flashed and scintillated + in the sunlight. His cowl was thrown back, revealing his pale, ascetic + countenance and shaven head. Behind him came a coffin covered by a black + pall, and borne on the shoulders of six black-robed, black cowled monks, + and behind these again walked, two by two, some fourteen cowled brothers + of the order of Saint Francis, their heads bowed, their arms folded, and + their hands tucked away in their capacious sleeves. + </p> + <p> + It was a numerous cortege, and as she watched its approach the Marquise + was moved to wonder by what arguments had the proud Abbot been induced to + do so much honour to a dead Condillac and bear his body home to this + excommunicated roof. + </p> + <p> + Behind the monks a closed carriage lumbered down the uneven mountain way, + and behind this rode four mounted grooms in the livery of Condillac. Of + Marius she saw nowhere any sign, and she inferred him to be travelling in + that vehicle, the attendant servants being those of the dead Marquis. + </p> + <p> + In silence, with the Seneschal at her elbow, she watched the procession + advance until it was at the foot of the drawbridge. Then, while the solemn + rhythm of their feet sounded across the planks that spanned the moat, she + turned, and, signing to the Seneschal to follow her, she went below to + meet them. But when she reached the courtyard she was surprised to find + they had not paused, as surely would have been seemly. Unbidden, the Abbot + had gone forward through the great doorway and down the gallery that led + to the hall of Condillac. Already, when she arrived below, the coffin and + its bearers had disappeared, and the last of the monks was passing from + sight in its wake. Leaning against the doorway through which they were + vanishing stood Fortunio, idly watching that procession and thoughtfully + stroking his mustachios. About the yard lounged a dozen or so men-at-arms, + practically all the garrison that was left them since the fight with + Garnache two nights ago. + </p> + <p> + After the last monk had disappeared, she still remained there, + expectantly; and when she saw that neither the carriage nor the grooms + made their appearance, she stepped up to Fortunio to inquire into the + reason of it. + </p> + <p> + “Surely Monsieur de Condillac rides in that coach,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Surely,” Fortunio answered, himself looking puzzled. “I will go seek the + reason, madame. Meanwhile will you receive the Abbot? The monks will have + deposited their burden.” + </p> + <p> + She composed her features into a fitting solemnity, and passed briskly + through to the hall, Tressan ever at her heels. Here she found the coffin + deposited on the table, its great black pall of velvet, silver-edged, + sweeping down to the floor. No fire had been lighted that morning nor had + the sun yet reached the windows, so that the place wore a chill and gloomy + air that was perhaps well attuned to the purpose that it was being made to + serve. + </p> + <p> + With a rare dignity, her head held high, she swept down the length of that + noble chamber towards the Abbot, who stood erect as a pikestaff: at the + tablehead, awaiting her. And well was it for him that he was a man of + austere habit of mind, else might her majestic, incomparable beauty have + softened his heart and melted the harshness of his purpose. + </p> + <p> + He raised his hand when she was within a sword’s length of him, and with + startling words, delivered in ringing tones, he broke the ponderous + silence. + </p> + <p> + “Wretched woman,” he denounced her, “your sins have found you out. Justice + is to be done, and your neck shall be bent despite your stubborn pride. + Derider of priests, despoiler of purity, mocker of Holy Church, your + impious reign is at an end.” + </p> + <p> + Tressan fell back aghast, his face blenching to the lips; for if justice + was at hand for her, as the Abbot said, then was justice at hand for him + as well. Where had their plans miscarried? What flaw was there that + hitherto she had not perceived? Thus he questioned himself in his sudden + panic. + </p> + <p> + But the Marquise was no sharer in his tremors. Her eyes opened a trifle + wider; a faint colour crept into her cheeks; but her only emotions were of + amazement and indignation. Was he mad, this shaveling monk? That was the + question that leapt into her mind, the very question with which she coldly + answered his outburst. + </p> + <p> + “For madness only,” she thought fit to add, “could excuse such rash + temerity as yours.” + </p> + <p> + “Not madness, madame,” he answered, with chill haughtiness—“not + madness, but righteous indignation. You have defied the power of Holy + Church as you have defied the power of our sovereign lady, and justice is + upon you. We are here to present the reckoning, and see its payment made + in full.” + </p> + <p> + She fancied he alluded to the body in the coffin—the body of her + stepson—and she could have laughed at his foolish conclusions that + she must account Florimond’s death an act of justice upon her for her + impiety. But her rising anger left her no room for laughter. + </p> + <p> + “I thought, sir priest, you were come to bury the dead. But it rather + seems you are come to talk.” + </p> + <p> + He looked at her long and sternly. Then he shook his head, and the + faintest shadow of a smile haunted his ascetic face. + </p> + <p> + “Not to talk, madame; oh, not to talk,” he answered slowly. “But to act, I + have come, madame, to liberate from this shambles the gentle lamb you hold + here prisoned.” + </p> + <p> + At that some of the colour left her cheeks; her eyes grew startled: at + last she began to realize that all was not as she had thought—as she + had been given to understand.—Still, she sought to hector it, from + very instinct. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Vertudieu!</i>” she thundered at him. “What mean you?” + </p> + <p> + Behind her Tressan’s great plump knees were knocking one against the + other. Fool that he had been to come to Condillac that day, and to be + trapped thus in her company, a partner in her guilt. This proud Abbot who + stood there uttering denunciations had some power behind him, else had he + never dared to raise his voice in Condillac within call of desperate men + who would give little thought to the sacredness, of his office. + </p> + <p> + “What mean you?” she repeated—adding with a sinister smile, “in your + zeal, Sir Abbot, you are forgetting that my men are within call.” + </p> + <p> + “So, madame, are mine,” was his astounding answer, and he waved a hand + towards the array of monks, all standing with bowed heads and folded arms. + </p> + <p> + At that her laughter rang shrill through the chamber. “These poor + shavelings?” she questioned. + </p> + <p> + “Just these poor shavelings, madame,” he answered, and he raised his hand + again and made a sign. And then an odd thing happened, and it struck a + real terror into the heart of the Marquise and heightened that which was + already afflicting her fat lover, Tressan. + </p> + <p> + The monks drew themselves erect. It was as if a sudden gust of wind had + swept through their ranks and set them all in motion. Cowls fell back and + habits were swept aside, and where twenty monks had stood, there were + standing now a score of nimble, stalwart men in the livery of Condillac, + all fully armed, all grinning in enjoyment of her and Tressan’s dismay. + </p> + <p> + One of them turned aside and locked the door of the chamber. But his + movement went unheeded by the Dowager, whose beautiful eyes, starting with + horror, were now back upon the grim figure of the Abbot, marvelling almost + to see no transformation wrought in him. + </p> + <p> + “Treachery!” she breathed, in an awful voice, that was no louder than a + whisper, and again her eyes travelled round the company, and suddenly they + fastened upon Fortunio, standing six paces from her to the right, pulling + thoughtfully at his mustachios, and manifesting no surprise at what had + taken place. + </p> + <p> + In a sudden, blind choler, she swept round, plucked the dagger from + Tressan’s belt and flung herself upon the treacherous captain. He had + betrayed her in some way; he had delivered up Condillac—into whose + power she had yet had no time to think. She caught him by the throat with + a hand of such nervous strength as one would little have suspected from + its white and delicate contour. Her dagger was poised in the air, and the + captain, taken thus suddenly, was palsied with amazement and could raise + no hand to defend himself from the blow impending. + </p> + <p> + But the Abbot stepped suddenly to her side and caught her wrist in his + thin, transparent hand. + </p> + <p> + “Forbear,” he bade her. “The man is but a tool.” + </p> + <p> + She fell back—dragged back almost by the Abbot—panting with + rage and grief; and then she noticed that during the moment that her back + had been turned the pall had been swept from the coffin. The sight of the + bare deal box arrested her attention, and for the moment turned aside her + anger. What fresh surprise did they prepare her? + </p> + <p> + No sooner had she asked herself the question than herself she answered it, + and an icy hand seemed to close about her heart. It was Marius who was + dead. They had lied to her. Marius’s was the body they had borne to + Condillac—those men in the livery of her stepson. + </p> + <p> + With a sudden sob in her throat she took a step towards the coffin. She + must see for herself. One way or the other she must at once dispel this + torturing doubt. But ere she had taken three paces, she stood arrested + again, her hands jerked suddenly to the height of her breast, her lips + parting to let out a scream of terror. For the coffin-lid had slowly + raised and clattered over. And as if to pile terror for her, a figure rose + from the box, and, sitting up, looked round with a grim smile; and the + figure was the figure of a man whom she knew to be dead, a man who had + died by her contriving—it was the figure of Garnache. It was + Garnache as he had been on the occasion of his first coming to Condillac, + as he had been on the day they had sought his life in this very room. How + well she knew that great hooked nose and the bright, steely blue eyes, the + dark brown hair, ash-coloured at the temples where age had paled it, and + the fierce, reddish mustachios, bristling above the firm mouth and long, + square chin. + </p> + <p> + She stared and stared, her beautiful face livid and distorted, till there + was no beauty to be seen in it, what time the Abbot regarded her coldly + and Tressan, behind her, turned almost sick with terror. But not the + terror of ghosts was it afflicted him. He saw in Garnache a man who was + still of the quick—a man who by some miracle had escaped the fate to + which they supposed him to have succumbed; and his terror was the terror + of the reckoning which that man would ask. + </p> + <p> + After a moment’s pause, as if relishing the sensation he had created, + Garnache rose to his feet and leapt briskly to the ground. There was + nothing ghostly about the thud with which he alighted on his feet before + her. A part of her terror left her; yet not quite all. She saw that she + had but a man to deal with, yet she began to realize that this man was + very terrible. + </p> + <p> + “Garnache again!” she gasped. + </p> + <p> + He bowed serenely, his lips smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Aye, madame,” he told her pleasantly, “always Garnache. Tenacious as a + leech, madame; and like a leech come hither to do a little work of + purification.” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes, now kindling again as she recovered from her recent fears, + sought Fortunio’s shifty glance. Garnache followed it and read what was in + her mind. + </p> + <p> + “What Fortunio has done,” said he, “he has done by your son’s authority + and sanction.” + </p> + <p> + “Marius?” she inquired, and she was almost fearful lest she should hear + that by her son he meant her stepson, and that Marius was dead. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Marius,” he answered her. “I bent him to my will. I threatened him + that he and this fellow of his, this comrade in arms so worthy of his + master, should be broken on the wheel together unless I were implicitly + obeyed. If they would save their lives, this was their chance. They were + wise, and they took it, and thus afforded me the means of penetrating into + Condillac and rescuing Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye.” + </p> + <p> + “Then Marius—?” She left her question unfinished, her hand clutching + nervously at the bosom of her gown. + </p> + <p> + “Is sound and well, as Fortunio truthfully will have told you. But he is + not yet out of my grasp, nor will be until the affairs of Condillac are + settled. For if I meet with further opposition here, broken on the wheel + he shall be yet, I promise you.” + </p> + <p> + Still she made a last attempt at hectoring it. The long habit of + mastership dies hard. She threw back her head; her courage revived now + that she knew Marius to be alive and sound. + </p> + <p> + “Fine words,” she sneered. “But who are you that you can threaten so and + promise so?” + </p> + <p> + “I am the Queen-Regent’s humble mouthpiece, madame. What I threaten, I + threaten in her name. Ruffle it no longer, I beseech you. It will prove + little worth your while. You are deposed, madame, and you had best take + your deposition with dignity and calm—in all friendliness do I + advise it.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not yet come so low that I need your advice,” she answered sourly. + </p> + <p> + “You may before the sun sets,” he answered, with his quiet smile. “The + Marquis de Condillac and his wife are still at La Rochette, waiting until + my business here is done that they may come home.” + </p> + <p> + “His wife?” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “His wife, madame. He has brought home a wife from Italy.” + </p> + <p> + “Then—then—Marius?” She said no more than that. Maybe she had + no intention of muttering even so much of her thoughts aloud. But Garnache + caught the trend of her mind, and he marvelled to see how strong a habit + of thought can be. At once upon hearing of the Marquis’s marriage her mind + had flown back to its wonted pondering of the possibilities of Marius’s + wedding Valerie. + </p> + <p> + But Garnache dispelled such speculations. + </p> + <p> + “No, madame,” said he. “Marius looks elsewhere for a wife—unless + mademoiselle of her own free will should elect to wed him—a thing + unlikely.” Then, with a sudden change to sternness—“Mademoiselle de + La Vauvraye is well, madame?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + She nodded her head, but made no answer in words. He turned to Fortunio. + </p> + <p> + “Go fetch her,” he bade the captain, and one of the men unlocked the door + to let Fortunio out upon that errand. + </p> + <p> + The Parisian took a turn in the apartment, and came close to Tressan. He + nodded to the Seneschal with a friendliness that turned him sick with + fright. + </p> + <p> + “Well met, my dear Lord Seneschal. I am rejoiced to find you here. Had it + been otherwise I must have sent for you. There is a little matter to be + settled between us. You may depend upon me to settle it to your present + satisfaction, if to your future grief.” And, with a smile, he passed on, + leaving the Seneschal too palsied to answer him, too stricken to disclaim + his share in what had taken place at Condillac. + </p> + <p> + “You have terms to make with me?” the Marquise questioned proudly. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” he answered, with his grim courtesy. “Upon your acceptance of + those terms shall depend Marius’s life and your own future liberty.” + </p> + <p> + “What are they?” + </p> + <p> + “That within the hour all your people—to the last scullion—shall + have laid down their arms and vacated Condillac.” + </p> + <p> + It was beyond her power to refuse. + </p> + <p> + “The Marquis will not drive me forth?” she half affirmed, half asked. + </p> + <p> + “The Marquis, madame, has no power in this matter. It is for the Queen to + deal with your insubordination—for me as the Queen’s emissary.” + </p> + <p> + “If I consent, monsieur, what then?” + </p> + <p> + He shrugged his shoulders, and smiled quietly. + </p> + <p> + “There is no ‘if,’ madame. Consent you must, willingly or unwillingly. To + make sure of that have I come back thus and with force. But should you + deliver battle, you will be worsted—and it will be very ill for you. + Bid your men depart, as I have told you, and you also shall have liberty + to go hence.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, but whither?” she cried, in a sudden frenzy of anger. + </p> + <p> + “I realize, madame, from what I know of your circumstances that you will + be well-nigh homeless. You should have thought of how one day you might + come to be dependent upon the Marquis de Condillac’s generosity before you + set yourself to conspire against him, before you sought to encompass his + death. You can hardly look for generosity at his hands now, and so you + will be all but homeless, unless—” He paused, and his eyes strayed + to Tressan and were laden with a sardonic look. + </p> + <p> + “You take a very daring tone with me,” she told him. “You speak to me as + no man has ever dared to speak.” + </p> + <p> + “When the power was yours, madame, you dealt with me as none has ever + dared to deal. The advantage now is mine. Behold how I use it in your own + interests; observe how generously I shall deal with you who deal in + murder. Monsieur de Tressan,” he called briskly. The Seneschal started + forward as if some one had prodded him suddenly. + </p> + <p> + “Mu—monsieur?” said he. + </p> + <p> + “With you, too, will I return good for evil. Come hither.” + </p> + <p> + The Seneschal approached, wondering what was about to take place. The + Marquise watched his coming, a cold glitter in her eye, for—keener + of mental vision than Tressan—she already knew the hideous purpose + that was in Garnache’s mind. + </p> + <p> + The soldiers grinned; the Abbot looked on with an impassive face. + </p> + <p> + “The Marquise de Condillac is likely to be homeless henceforth,” said the + Parisian, addressing the Seneschal. “Will you not be gallant enough to + offer her a home, Monsieur de Tressan?” + </p> + <p> + “Will I?” gasped Tressan, scarce daring to believe his own ears, his eyes + staring with a look that was almost one of vacancy. “Madame well knows how + readily.” + </p> + <p> + “Oho?” crowed Garnache, who had been observing madame’s face. “She knows? + Then do so, monsieur; and on that condition I will forget your + indiscretions here. I pledge you my word that you shall not be called to + further account for the lives that have been lost through your treachery + and want of loyalty, provided that of your own free will you lay down your + Seneschalship of Dauphiny—an office which I cannot consent to see you + filling hereafter.” + </p> + <p> + Tressan stared from the Dowager to Garnache and back to the Dowager. She + stood there as if Garnache’s words had turned her into marble, bereft of + speech through very rage. And then the door opened, and Mademoiselle de La + Vauvraye entered, followed closely by Fortunio. + </p> + <p> + At sight of Garnache she stood still, set her hand on her heart, and + uttered a low cry. Was it indeed Garnache she saw—Garnache, her + brave knight-errant? He looked no longer as he had looked during those + days when he had been her gaoler; but he looked as she liked to think of + him since she had accounted him dead. He advanced to meet her, a smile in + his eyes that had something wistful in it. He held out both hands to her, + and she took them, and there, under the eyes of all, before he could + snatch them away, she had stooped and kissed them, whilst a murmur of + “Thank God! Thank God!” escaped from her lips to heaven. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle, mademoiselle!” he remonstrated, when it was too late to + stay her. “You must not; it is not seemly in me to allow it.” + </p> + <p> + He saw in the act no more than an expression of the gratitude for what he + had done to serve her, and for the risk in which his life had been so + willingly placed in that service. Under the suasion of his words she grew + calm again; then, suddenly, a fear stirred her once more in that place + where she had known naught but fears. + </p> + <p> + “Why are you here, monsieur? You have come into danger again?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” he laughed. “These are my own men, at least for the time being. + I am come in power this time, to administer justice. What shall be done + with this lady, mademoiselle?” he asked; and knowing well the merciful + sweetness of the girl’s soul, he added, “Speak, now. Her fate shall rest + in your hands.” + </p> + <p> + Valerie looked at her enemy, and then her eyes strayed round the room and + took stock of the men standing there in silence, of the Abbot who still + remained at the table-head, a pale, scarce-interested spectator of this + odd scene. + </p> + <p> + The change had come so abruptly. A few minutes ago she had been still a + prisoner, suffering tortures at having heard that Marius was to return + that day, and that, willy-nilly, she must wed him now. And now she was + free it seemed: her champion was returned in power, and he stood bidding + her decide the fate of her late oppressors. + </p> + <p> + Madame’s face was ashen. She judged the girl by her own self; she had no + knowledge of any such infinite sweetness as that of this child’s nature, a + sweetness that could do no hurt to any. Death was what the Marquise + expected, since she knew that death would she herself have pronounced had + the positions been reversed. But— + </p> + <p> + “Let her go in peace, monsieur,” she heard mademoiselle say, and she could + not believe but that she was being mocked. And as if mockery were at + issue, Garnache laughed. + </p> + <p> + “We will let her go, mademoiselle—yet not quite her own way. You + must not longer remain unrestrained, madame,” he told the Marquise. + “Natures such as yours need a man’s guidance. I think you will be + sufficiently punished if you wed this rash Monsieur de Tressan, just as he + will be sufficiently punished later when disillusionment follows his + present youthful ardour. Make each other happy, then,” and he waved his + arms from one to the other. “Our good Father, here, will tie the knot at + once, and then, my Lord Seneschal, you may bear home your bride. Her son + shall follow you.” + </p> + <p> + But the Marquise blazed out now. She stamped her foot, and her eyes seemed + to have taken fire. + </p> + <p> + “Never, sir! Never in life!” she cried. “I will not be so constrained. I + am the Marquise de Condillac, monsieur. Do not forget it!” + </p> + <p> + “I am hardly in danger of doing that. It is because I remember it that I + urge you to change your estate with all dispatch; and cease to be the + Marquise de Condillac. That same Marquise has a heavy score against her. + Let her evade payment by this metamorphosis. I have opened for you, + madame, a door through which you may escape.” + </p> + <p> + “You are insolent,” she told him. “By God, sir! I am no baggage to be + disposed of by the will of any man.” + </p> + <p> + At that Garnache himself took fire. Her anger proved as the steel smiting + the flint of his own nature, and one of his fierce bursts of blazing + passion whirled about her head. + </p> + <p> + “And what of this child, here?” he thundered. “What of her, madame? Was + she a baggage to be disposed of by the will of any man or woman? Yet you + sought to dispose of her against her heart, against her nature, against + her plighted word. Enough said!” he barked, and so terrific was his mien + and voice that the stout-spirited Dowager was cowed, and recoiled as he + advanced a step in her direction. “Get you married. Take you this man to + husband, you who with such calmness sought to drive others into unwilling + wedlock. Do it, madame, and do it now, or by the Heaven above us, you + shall come to Paris with me, and you’ll not find them nice there. It will + avail you little to storm and shout at them that you are Marquise de + Condillac. As a murderess and a rebel shall you be tried, and as both or + either it is odds you will be broken on the wheel—and your son with + you. So make your choice, madame.” + </p> + <p> + He ceased. Valerie had caught him by the arm. At once his fury fell from + him. He turned to her. + </p> + <p> + “What is it, child?” + </p> + <p> + “Do not compel her, if she will not wed him,” said she. “I know—and—she + did not—how terrible a thing it is.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, patience, child,” he soothed her, smiling now, his smile as the + sunshine that succeeds a thunderstorm. + </p> + <p> + “It is none so bad with her. She is but coy. They had plighted their troth + already, so it seems. Besides, I do not compel her. She shall marry him of + her own free will—or else go to Paris and stand her trial and the + consequences.” + </p> + <p> + “They had plighted their troth, do you say?” + </p> + <p> + “Well—had you not, Monsieur le Seneschal?” + </p> + <p> + “We had, monsieur,” said Tressan, with conscious pride; “and for myself I + am ready for these immediate nuptials.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, in God’s name, let Madame give us her answer now. We have not the + day to waste.” + </p> + <p> + She stood looking at him, her toe tapping the ground, her eyes sullenly + angry. And in the end, half-fainting in her great disdain, she consented + to do his will. Paris and the wheel formed too horrible an alternative; + besides, even if that were spared her, there was but a hovel in Touraine + for her, and Tressan, for all his fat ugliness, was wealthy. + </p> + <p> + So the Abbot, who had lent himself to the mummery of coming there to read + a burial service, made ready now, by order of the Queen’s emissary, to + solemnize a wedding. + </p> + <p> + It was soon done. Fortunio stood sponsor for Tressan, and Garnache himself + insisted upon handing the Lord Seneschal his bride, a stroke of irony + which hurt the proud lady of Condillac more than all her sufferings of the + past half-hour. + </p> + <p> + When it was over and the Dowager Marquise de Condillac had been converted + into the Comtesse de Tressan, Garnache bade them depart in peace and at + once. + </p> + <p> + “As I have promised, you shall be spared all prosecution, Monsieur de + Tressan,” he assured the Seneschal at parting. “But you must resign at + once the King’s Seneschalship of Dauphiny, else will you put me to the + necessity of having you deprived of your office—and that might + entail unpleasant consequences.” + </p> + <p> + They went, madame with bowed head, her stubborn pride broken at last as + the Abbot of Saint Francis had so confidently promised her. After them + went the Abbot and the lackeys of Florimond, and Fortunio went with these + to carry out Garnache’s orders that the men of the Dowager’s garrison be + sent packing at once, leaving with the Parisian, in the great hall, just + Mademoiselle de La Vauvraye. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV. SAINT MARTIN’S EVE + </h2> + <p> + Uneasy in his mind, seeking some way to tell the thing and acquit himself + of the painful task before him, Garnache took a turn in the apartment. + </p> + <p> + Mademoiselle leaned against the table, which was still burdened by the + empty coffin, and observed him. His ponderings were vain; he could find no + way to tell, his story. She had said that she did not exactly love this + Florimond, that her loyalty to him was no more than her loyalty to her + father’s wishes. Nevertheless, he thought, what manner of hurt must not + her pride receive when she learned that Florimond had brought him home a + wife? Garnache was full of pity for her and for the loneliness that must + be hers hereafter, mistress of a vast estate in Dauphiny, alone and + friendless. And he was a little sorry for himself and the loneliness + which, he felt, would be his hereafter; but that was by the way. + </p> + <p> + At last it was she herself who broke the silence. + </p> + <p> + “Monsieur,” she asked him, and her voice was strained and husky, “were you + in time to save Florimond?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, mademoiselle,” he answered readily, glad that by that question she + should have introduced the subject. “I was in time.” + </p> + <p> + “And Marius?” she inquired. “From what I heard you say, I take it that he + has suffered no harm.” + </p> + <p> + “He has suffered none. I have spared him that he might participate in the + joy of his mother at her union with Monsieur de Tressan.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad it was so, monsieur. Tell me of it.” Her voice sounded formal + and constrained. + </p> + <p> + But either he did not hear or did not heed the question. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle,” he said slowly. “Florimond is coming—” + </p> + <p> + “Florimond?” she broke in, and her voice went shrill, as if with a sudden + fear, her cheeks turned white as chalk. The thing that for months she had + hoped and prayed for was come at last, and it struck her almost dead with + terror. + </p> + <p> + He remarked the change, and set it down to a natural excitement. He paused + a moment. Then: + </p> + <p> + “He is still at La Rochette. But he does no more than wait until he shall + have learned that his stepmother has departed from Condillac.” + </p> + <p> + “But—why—why—? Was he then in no haste to come to me?” + she inquired, her voice faltering. + </p> + <p> + “He is—” He stopped and tugged at his mustachios, his eyes regarding + her sombrely. He was close beside her now, where he had halted, and he set + his hand gently upon her shoulder, looked down into that winsome little + oval face she raised to his. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle,” he inquired, “would it afflict you very sorely if you were + not destined, after all, to wed the Lord of Condillac?” + </p> + <p> + “Afflict me?” she echoed. The very question set her gasping with hope. “No—no, + monsieur; it would not afflict me.” + </p> + <p> + “That is true? That is really, really true?” he cried, and his tone seemed + less despondent. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you know how true it is?” she said, in such accents and with such a + shy upward look that something seemed suddenly to take Garnache by the + throat. The blood flew to his cheeks. He fancied an odd meaning in those + words of hers—a meaning that set his pulses throbbing faster than + joy or peril had ever set them yet. Then he checked himself, and deep down + in his soul he seemed to hear a peal of mocking laughter—just such a + burst of sardonic mirth as had broken from his lips two nights ago when on + his way to Voiron. Then he went back to the business he had in hand. + </p> + <p> + “I am glad it is so with you,” he said quietly. “Because Florimond has + brought him home a wife.” + </p> + <p> + The words were out, and he stood back as stands a man who, having cast an + insult, prepares to ward the blow he expects in answer. He had looked for + a storm, a wild, frantic outburst; the lightning of flashing, angry eyes; + the thunder of outraged pride. Instead, here was a gentle calm, a wan + smile overspreading her sweet, pale face, and then she hid that face in + her hands, buried face and hands upon his shoulder and fell to weeping + very quietly. + </p> + <p> + This, he thought, was almost worse than the tempest he had looked for. How + was he to know that these tears were the overflow of a heart that was on + the point of bursting from sheer joy? He patted her shoulder; he soothed + her. + </p> + <p> + “Little child,” he whispered in her ear. “What does it matter? You did not + really love him. He was all unworthy of you. Do not grieve, child. So, so, + that is better.” + </p> + <p> + She was looking up at him, smiling through the tears that suffused er + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I am weeping for joy, monsieur,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “For joy?” quoth he. “<i>Vertudieu</i>! There is no end to the things a woman + weeps for!” + </p> + <p> + Unconsciously, instinctively almost, she nestled closer to him, and again + his pulses throbbed, again that flush came to overspread his lean + countenance. Very softly he whispered in her ear: + </p> + <p> + “Will you go to Paris with me, mademoiselle?” + </p> + <p> + He meant by that question no more than to ask whether, now that here in + Dauphiny she would be friendless and alone, it were not better for her to + place herself under the care of the Queen-Regent. But what blame to her if + she misunderstood the question, if she read in it the very words her heart + was longing to hear from him? The very gentleness of his tone implied his + meaning to be the one she desired. She raised her hazel eyes again to his, + she nestled closer to him, and then, with a shy fluttering of her lids, a + delicious red suffusing her virgin cheek, she answered very softly: + </p> + <p> + “I will go anywhere with you, monsieur—anywhere.” + </p> + <p> + With a cry he broke from her. There was no fancying now; no possibility of + misunderstanding. He saw how she had misread his question, how she had + delivered herself up to him in answer. His almost roughness startled her, + and she stared at him as he stamped down the apartment and back to where + she stood, seeking in vain to master the turbulence of his feelings. He + stood still again. He took her by the shoulders and held her at arms’ + length, before him, thus surveying her, and there was trouble in his keen + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Mademoiselle, mademoiselle!” he cried. “Valerie, my child, what are you + saying to me?” + </p> + <p> + “What would you have me say?” she asked, her eyes upon the floor. “Was I + too forward? It seemed to me there could not be question of such a thing + between us now. I belong to you. What man has ever served a woman as you + have served me? What better friend, what nobler lover did ever woman have? + Why then need I take shame at confessing my devotion?” + </p> + <p> + He swallowed hard, and there was a mist before his eyes—eyes that + had looked unmoved on many a scene of carnage. + </p> + <p> + “You know not what you do,” he cried out, and his voice was as the voice + of one in pain. “I am old.” + </p> + <p> + “Old?” she echoed in deep surprise, and she looked up at him, as if she + sought evidence of what he stated. + </p> + <p> + “Aye, old,” he assured her bitterly. “Look at the grey in my hair, the + wrinkles in my face. I am no likely lover for you, child. You’ll need a + lusty, comely young gallant.” + </p> + <p> + She looked at him, and a faint smile flickered at the corners of her lips. + She observed his straight, handsome figure; his fine air of dignity and of + strength. Every inch a man was he; never lived there one who was more a + man; and what more than such a man could any maid desire? + </p> + <p> + “You are all that I would have you,” she answered him, and in his mind he + almost cursed her stubbornness, her want of reason. + </p> + <p> + “I am peevish and cross-grained,” he informed her, “and I have grown old + in ignorance of woman’s ways. Love has never come to me until now. What + manner of lover, think you, can I make?” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes were on the windows at his back. The sunshine striking through + them seemed to give her the reply she sought. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow will be Saint Martin’s Day,” she told him; “yet see with a + warmth the sun is shining.” + </p> + <p> + “A poor, make-believe Saint Martin’s Summer,” said he. “I am fitly + answered by your allegory.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, not make-believe, not make-believe,” she exclaimed. “There is no + make-believe in the sun’s brightness and its warmth. We see it and we feel + it, and we are none the less glad of it because the time of year should be + November; rather do we take the greater joy in it. And it is not yet + November in your life, not yet by many months.” + </p> + <p> + “What you say is apt, perhaps,” said he, “and may seem more apt than it is + since my name is Martin, though I am no saint.” Then he shook off this + mood that he accounted selfish; this mood that would take her—as the + wolf takes the lamb—with no thought but for his own hunger. + </p> + <p> + “No, no!” he cried out. “It were unworthy in me!” + </p> + <p> + “When I love you, Martin?” she asked him gently. + </p> + <p> + A moment he stared at her, as if through those clear eyes he would + penetrate to the very depths of her maiden soul. Then he sank on to his + knees before her as any stripling lover might have done, and kissed her + hands in token of the fact that he was conquered. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of St. Martin’s Summer, by Rafael Sabatini + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ST. MARTIN’S SUMMER *** + +***** This file should be named 2640-h.htm or 2640-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/6/4/2640/ + +Produced by An Anonymous Project Gutenberg Volunteer, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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