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diff --git a/old/69104-0.txt b/old/69104-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index c99fae5..0000000 --- a/old/69104-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,8960 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Cadets of Gascony, by Burton Egbert -Stevenson - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world 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. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Cadets of Gascony - Two stories of old France - -Author: Burton Egbert Stevenson - -Illustrator: Anna Whelen Betts - -Release Date: October 6, 2022 [eBook #69104] - -Language: English - -Produced by: D A Alexander, David E. Brown, and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - made using scans of public domain works put online by - Harvard University Library's Open Collections Program.) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CADETS OF GASCONY *** - - - - - -CADETS OF GASCONY - - - - -Novels of Love and Adventure - - - AT ODDS WITH THE REGENT - BY BURTON E. STEVENSON - Illustrated. Cloth, $1.50 - - THE DAUGHTERS OF BABYLON - BY WILSON BARRETT AND ROBERT HICHENS - Frontispiece. Cloth, $1.50 - - WHEN BLADES ARE OUT AND LOVE’S AFIELD - BY CYRUS TOWNSEND BRADY - Illustrated. Cloth, $1.50 - - THE LAST BUCCANEER - BY L. COPE CORNFORD - Cloth, $1.50 - - THE RED MEN OF THE DUSK - THE LOVER FUGITIVES - THE STORY OF A SCOUT - BY JOHN FINNEMORE - Illustrated. Cloth, $1.50 each - - THE INEVITABLE - BY PHILIP V. MIGHELS - Frontispiece. Cloth, $1.50 - - MLLE. FOUCHETTE - BY CHARLES T. MURRAY - Illustrated. Cloth, $1.50 - - A TAR-HEEL BARON - BY MABELL S. C. PELTON - Illustrated. Cloth, $1.50 - - -[Illustration: Oh, but he was a man!--a match for both of us almost - - Page 167] - - - - - CADETS OF GASCONY - - Two Stories of Old France - - BY - BURTON E. STEVENSON - - AUTHOR OF “AT ODDS WITH THE REGENT,” “A SOLDIER - OF VIRGINIA,” “THE HERITAGE,” ETC. - - _Illustrated by_ - ANNA WHELEN BETTS - - [Illustration] - - PHILADELPHIA AND LONDON - J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY - 1904 - - - - - Copyright, 1904 - BY J. B. LIPPINCOTT COMPANY - - _Published March, 1904_ - - Printed by - J. B. Lippincott Company, Philadelphia, U. S. A. - - - - - TO THE - SPIRIT OF YOUTH - OF WHICH MAY WE ALL - PARTAKE - - - - -CONTENTS - -[Illustration] - - -MARSAN - - CHAPTER PAGE - - I.--I CHANCE UPON AN ADVENTURE 13 - - II.--I WALK INTO A HORNET’S NEST 28 - - III.--I FIND THE KEY TO THE PUZZLE 41 - - IV.--I MEET A KINDRED SPIRIT 55 - - V.--THE RIDE TO CADILLAC 67 - - VI.--I TASTE OF ROQUEFORT’S TEMPER 79 - - VII.--A VISION IN THE NIGHT 90 - - VIII.--MARLEON! 104 - - IX.--THE DEN OF THE WOLF 115 - - X.--THE QUESTION 125 - - XI.--ROQUEFORT’S PRICE 135 - - XII.--A MESSAGE FROM WITHOUT 149 - - XIII.--THE WHEEL TURNS 162 - - XIV.--THE DOOR IN THE CLIFF 174 - - XV.--ROQUEFORT EXACTS A PROMISE 182 - - XVI.--MADAME LA DUCHESSE DE ROQUEFORT 196 - - XVII.--A TEN YEARS’ VENGEANCE 202 - - XVIII.--LIGHT! 214 - - -[Illustration] - - -A CHILD OF THE NIGHT - - I.--AN ENCOUNTER IN THE STREETS 223 - - II.--I FIND MYSELF BROTHER TO AN ENCHANTING GIRL 234 - - III.--I FIND MY PART A DIFFICULT ONE 242 - - IV.--IN WHICH I COME TO PARIS 253 - - V.--M. RIBAUT IS OBDURATE 266 - - VI.--RIBAUT PLAYS A CARD 276 - - VII.--I AM FORTUNATE IN FINDING A NEW FRIEND 284 - - VIII.--I KEEP AN APPOINTMENT 292 - - IX.--A DESCENT INTO A CESSPOOL 299 - - X.--MÈRE FOUCHON SCORES 309 - - XI.--TORTURE 316 - - XII.--A CHILD OF THE NIGHT 329 - - XIII.--A NIGHT OF AGONY 339 - - XIV.--GREATER LOVE THAN MINE 350 - - XV.--TO THE CHURCH OF ST. LANDRY 358 - - XVI.--M. D’ARGENSON’S COUP 370 - - ENVOY 377 - - - - -ILLUSTRATIONS - - - PAGE - - Oh, but he was a man!--a match for both of us almost _Frontispiece_ - - She came to me shyly 22 - - My bonds fell from me 98 - - Who, looking deep into her eyes, could have lacked inspiration? 250 - - “I forbid the marriage” 372 - - - - -MARSAN - -A ROMANCE OF THE MIDI - - - - -CHAPTER I - -I CHANCE UPON AN ADVENTURE - - -IT was at the corner of the Rue Gogard that I saw her first. You may, -perhaps, recall the place, if you know Montauban. A great barrack of a -building, time-stained and neglected, blocks the way as one turns into -it from the Rue Pluvois. Before the house is a high wall, pierced by -a single gateway. The door is of oak, four inches thick and heavily -barred with iron,--Vincennes has few stronger,--wherefrom it may be -seen that he who built the structure was a man who had his enemies. - -The door held my eye, as I turned the corner, by its very massiveness, -and just as I reached it, it was flung open with a crash, and a girl -rushed into the street. She stopped as she saw me standing there, and -my hat was sweeping the pavement as I caught her eyes on mine. - -“You seem a man of honor,” she said, and pressed her hand against her -breast as though to calm the beating of her heart. - -“A thousand thanks, Mademoiselle,” I answered, and I saw that even the -stark emotion which possessed her could not bemask the beauty of her -face. “Believe me, I shall be most happy to prove it.” - -“You have a sword?” she asked, still eying me with attention. - -I threw back my cloak and touched the hilt. - -“And know how to use it?” - -“Try me, Mademoiselle,” I said simply. - -The color swept back into her face and her eyes narrowed with sudden -resolution. - -“Then follow me, Monsieur,” she said, and turned back through the -gateway. - -I was at her heels as she ran across the little court and plunged into -a dark doorway beyond. I paused an instant to draw my sword, dropping -my cloak that it might not cumber me, and then clattered up the stair -behind her. It was dark and narrow and of many turnings, so that she, -who knew the place, had reached the top while I was stumbling along -midway, cursing the darkness. But she awaited me, and as I reached her -side held out her hand to me. My own closed over it in an instant and -found it soft and warm and trembling. Here was an adventure after my -own heart, and I had had so few adventures! - -“Cautiously, Monsieur!” she whispered, and led the way along a narrow -hall to the right. The darkness was absolute, the atmosphere close and -stifling. I began to wonder if I had walked into a trap, but that warm -little hand in mine reassured me. Besides, who could know my errand -from Marsan, and, not knowing it, who would set a trap for so small a -bird as I? Then, suddenly, as we turned a corner, I heard the sound of -angry voices and saw a light streaming redly through an open doorway. -In a moment we had reached it, and I paused in astonishment as I saw -what lay within. - -There was a great fire blazing on the hearth, which threw into sharp -relief a bed with disordered hangings, an open desk with papers -overflowing from it to the floor, a chair overturned, even the faded -tapestry upon the walls. But it was at none of these I looked, though -I found them all bit into my memory afterwards. It was at a man bound -to a chair, at two others who were glancing hastily through the papers -they were pulling from the drawers of the desk, at a fourth who was -making an iron turn white in the glow of the fire. The man in the chair -was watching the door with agonized eyes, but of the faces of the -others I could see nothing, for they were masked. - -Even as I stood there, palsied by astonishment, the man at the fire -drew forth the iron and turned with it sputtering in his hand. - -“Come, M. le Comte,” he said, “I think this will answer,” and he -advanced towards the prisoner. - -But the girl was through the doorway ere he had taken a second step. - -“You curs! You cowards!” she screamed, and ran at him as though to -wrench the hissing iron from his hands. - -Her voice had loosed the chains which bound me, and I sprang after her, -drew her back with one hand, and while the man stood for an instant -agape at this intrusion, ran him through the breast. As he felt my -sword in his flesh he raised his hand and threw the iron full at me, -but I stepped aside and avoided it, and he fell in a heap on the -hearth. The others were upon me almost before I could turn, and with -the suddenness of their rush drove me into a corner, where, in truth, I -was very glad to go and get my back snugly against the wall. The moment -I felt their blades against my own I knew I had swordsmen to deal with. -For a breath I held them off, then I saw them exchange a glance, and -as one knocked up my blade, the other ran me through the shoulder. It -had been my heart, but that I sprang to the right. In the instant that -followed I saw my chance and thrust full at my opponent, who had left -his breast uncovered, but my point rang against a net of steel and the -blade shivered in my grasp. - -“Well thrust,” he said, laughing harshly. “’Tis a pity so pretty a -swordsman must die so young. Come, Gaspard, let us finish,” and he -advanced to thrust again. I had my poniard out, but knew it would be of -little service. - -And then, as I steeled myself for this last attack, commending my soul -to the Virgin, I saw a white arc of sputtering iron sweep through the -air and hiss deep into the cheek of the man in armor. He fell back -with a terrible cry, and, dropping his sword, clapped his hands to his -face. The other stood for an instant dazed, then, with an oath, caught -up his companion and plunged into the darkness of the hall without. I -heard his footsteps echoing along it for a moment, then all was still. -Only the girl stood there with the bar of iron still in her hand. - -“I thank you, Mademoiselle,” I said. “In another moment I had been -beyond assistance.” - -She smiled at me faintly, tremulously, and cast the iron down upon the -hearth. Plainly, she was not used to scenes of violence, and had small -relish for them. - -“Come,” I continued, “let us release the prisoner,” and with my poniard -I cut the ropes which bound him. He arose from the chair unsteadily, -stretched his limbs, and looked at me with a good-humored light in his -eyes. - -“In faith, Monsieur,” he said, “you arrived most opportunely. I admit I -have no appetite for white-hot iron. I am a man of the pen, not of the -sword. Accept my thanks,” and he bowed with a certain dignity. - -I bowed in return, not to be outdone in courtesy; then, of a sudden I -felt my strength drop from me, and sat down limply on the chair from -which I had just released him. - -“Oh, you are wounded!” cried the girl. “See, uncle, here in his -shoulder,” and before I could prevent it she had sunk to her knees -beside me and was tearing away my doublet. In a trice my shoulder was -bare, and she examined the wound with compressed lips, touching it with -intelligent fingers that bespoke her convent training. - -“It is nothing,” I protested weakly. “A mere flesh-wound. Do not -trouble about it, I beg of you, Mademoiselle. I shall be better in a -moment.” - -But the man interrupted me. - -“Nonsense!” he said curtly, and he too looked at the wound. “Claire,” -he added, “bring a basin of water and clean linen. We will soon repair -this damage.” - -I followed her with my eyes as she ran to do his bidding. So her name -was Claire, and I repeated it over and over to myself, as a man rolls -wine in his mouth to get the full flavor. She was soon back, and the -wound washed clean and deftly bandaged. - -“There,” he said at last, “I think that will do. I do not believe the -hurt a dangerous one, Monsieur, but you would best consult without -delay a more skilful surgeon than either Claire or I. One thing more I -can do for you,” and he opened a cupboard in the wall and brought out -a flask of wine. “Drink this,” he said, and handed me a glass brimming -over. I drained it at a draught--how good it tasted! - -“A thousand thanks,” I said. “I am quite myself again. I trust -Mademoiselle will pardon my momentary weakness.” - -She smiled happily as she looked at me. - -“Oh, yes, Monsieur,” she answered softly; “I think I could find it in -my heart to pardon a much more serious offence,” and her face grew -rosy with sudden blushes, in fear, doubtless, that she had said too -much. I could guess that she had seen little of the world, and that its -strangeness frightened her. - -Her companion forestalled me before I could find words for a reply. - -“May I ask the name of our rescuer? We shall wish always to remember it -with gratitude.” - -“Paul de Marsan,” I answered simply. - -He started, and I saw the girl’s face turn white. - -“Liege to the Comte de Cadillac?” he asked quickly. - -I bowed. - -“I came to Montauban to see him,” I said, wondering at his emotion. - -“But must you see him?” he persisted. - -“At the earliest moment.” - -He waved his hand with a gesture of despair and stood for a little -time, his head bent in thought. - -“M. de Marsan,” he began at last, “I fear we have done you ill service -by calling you here to-day----” - -But I stopped him before he could say more. - -“Ill service!” I cried. “Ill service to give my sword a chance at three -consummate scoundrels, and me an opportunity of meeting Mademoiselle! -Do me a thousand such ill services, Monsieur!” - -His was a merry spirit when no danger threatened, and I saw a jest -spring to life in his eyes. - -“A chance to meet a thousand pretty girls?” he asked. - -But he was not to catch me so. - -“On the contrary, a thousand chances to meet Mademoiselle,” I answered -boldly, though the boldness was no deeper than the lips, and from the -corner of my eye I saw the girl blush hotly. - -He glanced from me to her and back again. The mirth died out of his -face, as heat from a bed of ashes, and left it cold and gray. - -“I fear that may not be, Monsieur,” he said gravely. “Our way is not -your way, as you will soon know for yourself. But, at least, I can give -you a friend in place of the one you have lost here in our service.” - -He signed to Claire, and she ran to an adjoining room, returning in a -moment with a sword in a scabbard of stout leather. - -“Gird him,” he said. - -She came to me shyly, and taking the old scabbard from my belt, clasped -the new one there. I trembled at the touch of her fingers, and gripped -my hands behind me to keep my arms from about her. I could see the red -blood surging in waves over cheek and neck as I looked down at her, but -only when she had finished the task did she lift her eyes to mine for -an instant. What eyes they were--dark, lustrous, with the white soul -looking out! - -“Draw your blade,” commanded the other. - -As I obeyed and its polished sides caught the firelight I saw it was no -ordinary weapon. - -“Test it,” he said. - -[Illustration: She came to me shyly] - -I bent it to left and right. It gave in my hands like some living thing. - -“’Twill take a stout coat of mail to turn it aside,” he said. “’Tis a -Toledo.” - -I flushed with joy at possessing such a treasure and tried to stammer -my thanks, but he cut me off. - -“There, there,” he said, not unkindly. “Keep your thanks. I doubt you -will soon find you have little enough cause for gratitude. But ’tis the -utmost I can do for you, for ’tis very unlike we shall ever meet again.” - -“But your name,” I stammered. “Surely I may know your name.” - -He hesitated a moment, then shook his head impatiently, as though -casting some weakness from him. - -“My name is of small moment,” he said. “You may call me Duval. That -will serve as well as any other.” - -“But, Monsieur,” I protested, “I hope to see you many times again--you -and Mademoiselle,” and I stole a glance at her, but her eyes were fixed -on the floor. - -Duval came to me and took my hand. - -“Believe me, M. de Marsan,” he said earnestly, “I honor you and value -your friendship highly, but for your own sake you must not meet us -again. Indeed, ’twill do you little good to try, since by to-morrow -we shall be far from here, in a country it were death for you to -penetrate.” - -I gazed at him, too astonished to reply. - -“I will ask you one more favor,” he added. “Will you assist me in -carrying yonder fellow to the bed? We must give him a chance, if he -hath a spark of life left in him.” - -“Willingly,” I answered, and between us we raised the man, who lay -where he had fallen, and stretched him on the couch. He gave no sign of -life and I thought him done for, but when the doublet was stripped from -his breast I saw that the blood was still slowly oozing from the wound -which my sword had made. Duval hesitated an instant and then lifted -the mask from his face. I had never seen the man before, but he had a -strong, bold countenance, with something of rough power in it. - -“That was the master against whose cuirass you broke your sword, M. -de Marsan,” remarked Duval, and then as he met my inquiring glance he -added, “Believe me, I appreciate your courtesy, Monsieur, in keeping -back the questions which must be on your lips; but ’tis a matter you -are ignorant of, even were I at liberty to explain it. And now I must -ask you to leave us, for we have much to do.” - -“We will meet again,” I said earnestly as I took his hand. - -But he merely shook his head. - -“Claire will accompany you to the street,” he said, and turned away to -his disordered desk. - -I followed her without a word along the hallway and down the dark -stair; but at the foot I caught her hand and held it. - -“Can it be, Mademoiselle,” I asked, “that this is adieu? Surely you do -not believe so!” - -“I fear I must believe so, Monsieur,” she answered softly. “Only I wish -myself to thank you for your gallantry and courage. They were given to -a good cause.” - -“And will be given again to the same cause!” I cried. “I warn you, -Mademoiselle, that I shall not submit so tamely to this decree of -separation.” - -She pressed my fingers gently and withdrew her hand. - -“Come,” she said, “I must return,” and she went on across the little -court and to the gate, which still hung open as we had left it. “Adieu, -Monsieur,” she added, and held out her hand again. - -I raised it to my lips and kissed it. - -“It is not adieu,” I said. “I will not have it so. I shall see you -again many times,” but as I looked into her eyes I felt my certainty -slipping from me, and with it my self-control. - -Perhaps she read my thought, for she drew her hand away and made ready -to close the gate. - -“Adieu, Monsieur,” she repeated, and I saw that her eyes were bright -with tears. - -I sprang to her and caught both her hands in mine. - -“But, Claire,” I cried, “at least, tell me that you are sorry; tell me -that you care; tell me that you would not have it so!” - -She looked up into my face and her lips were quivering. - -“I have had many disappointments,” she said. “One more will matter -little. You must go, Monsieur. To detain me here is to endanger both of -us.” - -“As you will,” I said, a little bitterly, and I dropped her hands and -turned to the gate. “Only in this, Mademoiselle, you shall not be -disappointed. I swear it. Au revoir.” - -I stepped through to the street and turned with bared head and -trembling hands for a last glimpse of her. For an instant she held the -gate half open and gazed into my eyes. Then she shut it fast, the bar -dropped into place, and I heard her footsteps slowly cross the court. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -I WALKED INTO A HORNETS’ NEST - - -THE vesper bell of a near-by priory waked me out of my thoughts. I -remembered with a start that the business which had brought me to -Montauban was as yet undone, and I hastened my steps towards the hotel -of the Comte de Cadillac, which stood, as I very well knew, on the -right bank of the Tarn, as one approaches it from the south along the -Rue du Midi. It was not till then that the increasing cold of evening -drew my attention to the fact that I no longer had my cloak about -me, and I remembered that I had not thought to pick it up again as I -passed the place where I had dropped it, so absorbed had I been in my -companion. I reflected with satisfaction that I had chosen an old one -in which to make this journey, not only that I might be the less an -object of notice, but also because I did not know to what vicissitude -of weather I might be subjected ere I was back again beside the fire at -Marsan. - -Night had settled upon the town before I reached the Rue du Midi and -turned up towards the river, but I did not slacken my pace until I -saw gleaming before me the great torches which at night-time always -flamed on either side the wide gate to the Hotel de Cadillac. Far in -the distance, beyond the high-arched bridge which spans the river, I -could catch the glitter of light about the great château of my master’s -friend and ally, M. le Comte de Toulouse; and away, on either side, -the warm lights of the town; but I paused for only a glance at them -as I turned towards the gate before me. There was the usual crowd of -lacqueys and men-at-arms loitering about it, and I made my way through -them without hinderance, across the inner court, and up the steps to -the great doorway. Here a sentry stopped me. - -“I wish to see M. le Comte,” I said. “I have an urgent message for him -from Marsan.” - -The fellow looked me over for a moment, plainly little impressed by my -appearance. - -“Very well, Monsieur,” he said at last. “Come with me.” - -Midway of the hall a group had gathered about a man who was talking -excitedly, and from the faces of his listeners I judged it to be no -ordinary bit of gossip he was imparting. I caught a few words as we -made a way through the crowd. - -“It is most curious,” the speaker was saying. “No one can imagine how -it occurred.” - -“What is it?” I asked my guide when once we were past the crowd. “What -has happened?” - -But he merely shook his head, as though it were not his business nor -mine, and kept on without replying. I promised myself that I would some -day repay him twice over for his insolence. The blood is warm at twenty! - -He turned to the right through an open doorway and stopped before a man -who was walking soberly up and down, his chin in his hand, his brows -knitted. - -“M. d’Aurilly,” he said, “here is a youngster who says he has a message -for M. le Comte.” - -My cheeks flushed at his tone, and I bit my lips to keep back the -retort which would have burst from them. - -D’Aurilly stopped abruptly in his walk and looked at me. - -“That will do, Briquet,” he said to the sentry after a moment, and -stood looking at me until the sound of his footsteps died away down -the corridor. I could see that he was searching me through and through, -and no whit abashed, for I come of as good blood as any in Gascony, I -gave him look for look. - -“So you have a message?” he asked at last. - -“Yes, Monsieur,” I answered, and as I looked into his face I saw that -his eyes glittered under half-closed lids, that his nose arched like an -eagle’s beak, and that the thick moustachio could not wholly conceal -the cruel lines of the mouth. Verily, I thought, there seem to be few -pleasant people in the household of M. le Comte de Cadillac. - -“And where is this message from?” he continued. - -“From Marsan, Monsieur.” - -“And you are?” - -“Paul de Marsan, Monsieur.” - -He looked at me yet a moment, his eyes glittering behind their veil of -lashes like snakes in ambush. - -“Very well,” he said abruptly. “Give me this message. I will deliver it -to M. le Comte.” - -And he held out his hand. - -“Impossible, Monsieur,” I answered. “I was instructed to deliver it -only to M. le Comte himself.” - -Again he paused to look me up and down, and I saw the hot color of the -south leap to his cheeks. - -“Perhaps you do not know that I am the Vicomte d’Aurilly,” he sneered -at last. - -“I heard the sentry call you so, Monsieur,” I answered, bowing. I did -not add that I thought it strange he should be in the household and -seemingly so near the person of M. le Comte--for his estates lay far -south on the border of the Pyrenees, and had always been reckoned more -Spanish than French. - -“Come,” he cried roughly, “enough of this play! Give me the message. M. -le Comte is ill and will see no one.” - -“Then I will wait till he is well again, Monsieur,” I said, as calmly -as I could, and made for the door, head in air. - -But his voice arrested me. - -“Stop, you fool!” he cried. - -I turned upon him, all my blood in my face. - -“That is not the way one gentleman addresses another, Monsieur,” I said -between my teeth. “I must ask Monsieur to apologize.” - -“Apologize!” he cried, purple with rage. “Upon my word, these Gascon -paupers are insufferable!” - -But I could bear no more--no Marsan could endure an insult such as -that--and I sprang upon him and struck him full in the mouth with -my open hand. He had his poniard out in an instant and lunged at -me,--which I thought a cowardly thing,--but I stepped back out of -harm’s reach and whipped out my sword before he could strike a second -time. He paused when he saw my point at his breast. - -“Now,” I said, “perhaps Monsieur will draw and fight like a gentleman, -not like a blackguard.” - -I thought he would choke with rage. And at that instant an inner door -opened and a man stepped through. He stopped in amazement as he saw our -attitude. - -“What is this, d’Aurilly?” he demanded sternly. “A duel--and in M. le -Comte’s ante-chamber? Surely you know his need of quiet!” - -D’Aurilly turned to the newcomer, his face working with passion. - -“I was pressed beyond endurance, M. Letourge,” he said. “Look at -this,” and he pointed to the mark of my hand still on his face. - -“A blow!” and Letourge looked at me wrathfully. “Who are you, Monsieur, -that you dare strike the Vicomte d’Aurilly?” - -But my blood was up and my eyes were full on his. In my heart I knew -that his eyes were honest eyes and his face an honest face, albeit a -stern one. - -“A gentleman whom he had insulted, Monsieur,” I answered proudly. “We -of Marsan permit that from no man.” - -But Letourge’s face had changed. He stood staring at me with starting -eyes, as though not able to believe them. Then he pulled himself -together and his face became like marble, lighted by two coals of fire. - -“You are a bold man, Monsieur,” he said at last, in a voice that -chilled me, “to set foot in this house. Methinks you will never leave -it with your breath in your body.” - -It was my turn to stare. - -“Is M. le Comte de Cadillac a second Pharaoh,” I asked, “that he should -slay his messengers? Had I known that, I had made less haste from -Marsan in his service.” - -Letourge had recovered his self-control, but I saw that his hands were -trembling. - -“From Marsan?” he repeated. “And when came you from Marsan?” - -“An hour ago,” I answered. - -“And you have a message?” - -“Yes, Monsieur.” - -“You lie!” he cried. “You must think our memories marvellous short! -M. le Comte does not slay messengers, but he hangs spies. Do you not -already feel the rope about your neck?” - -I looked into his eyes and saw he was in earnest. What could the man -mean? I realized that I had need to keep my wits about me. - -“Monsieur,” I said, with what calmness I could muster, “you have used -words to me which you will some day regret. I am Paul de Marsan and no -spy. We of Marsan have been liege to Cadillac for two hundred years and -have always aided them to fight their battles. I come to warn M. le -Comte of a great danger which threatens him, but seem to have fallen -into a nest of madmen.” - -Letourge looked at me with working lips. - -“Think not your tongue can save your head,” he sneered. “You have come -to the end of the journey. Will you lay down your sword, or shall I -call in a dozen lacqueys to take it from you?” - -There was but one course for a gentleman to choose. I glanced -desperately about the room. He and d’Aurilly stood between me and the -door into the outer hall. There was only one other, the door through -which he had entered. - -“Monsieur,” I cried, “I shall not lay down my sword until my hand is -powerless to hold it!” - -With a cry of rage he sprang towards the hall to summon aid, while with -one bound I was at the other door, and felt with joy that it yielded -to my touch. As I slammed it shut behind me I saw that it had a bolt -on the inner side, and shot it into place just as those without threw -themselves against it. It could hold but a few moments at the most, and -I cast my eyes about the room for some way of escape. - -I saw that I was in a sleeping-room, the great, curtained bed occupying -one side. A single candle burning on a table near it illumined the room -but feebly, yet there was light enough to show me a window opposite -the bed. I ran to it and threw back the shutter with a crash. The -window was barred. I glanced again about the room. There was no other -window--no other door but that by which I had entered, and which was -already creaking under the blows rained upon it. I must die here, then, -like a rat in a trap. Well, I would not die alone! - -“What is this?” cried a voice from the bed. “Name of God! Did I not -tell you, Gaspard, that I wanted quiet? Are you pulling the house down? -Answer me, man!” - -The curtains were jerked apart and a face appeared between them--a -horrible face, swollen and bandaged. He listened a moment to the blows -and cries without, then got unsteadily to his feet and took a sword -from the chair at his bedside, cursing softly to himself the while. And -as he turned his eyes fell upon me. - -“Who are you?” he demanded. “What do you here?” - -A spark of hope sprang to life in my breast. - -“I am Paul de Marsan,” I explained. “I have a message for M. le Comte -de Cadillac.” - -He sat down heavily upon a chair. - -“Very well,” he said. “I am he. But that does not explain this cursed -uproar.” - -My hat was off and I was on my knee before him in an instant. Perhaps -here I should get justice. The door was already splitting. I had need -to speak quickly. - -“M. le Comte,” I cried, “believe me, I am your faithful and devoted -servant. I have journeyed fifty leagues to bring you a message of -great moment to your house. Yet, when I came here and asked to see you -that I might give you this message, I was called a spy, set upon, and -threatened with the gibbet.” - -“But why--why?” he asked. - -“I do not know, Monsieur,” I answered. - -He looked me for an instant in the eyes. - -“M. de Marsan,” he said, “I believe you. Get behind my chair. I will -protect you from these fools.” - -It was time. Even as he spoke there came a mighty crash against the -door, as of a heavy log hurled upon it, and it leaped from its hinges. -The mob poured into the room, headed by d’Aurilly and Letourge. For -an instant, in the semi-darkness, they did not see me standing there -behind their master, then they were upon me with a yell of rage. - -But M. le Comte was out of his chair, his sword advanced. - -“One step more,” he cried, “and I strike! Letourge, d’Aurilly, you -shall answer for this with your necks! Are you mad?” - -The mob stopped on the instant. Plainly they knew that when their -master struck, he struck home. - -“He is a spy, Monsieur!” cried Letourge. “He hath come hither to -assassinate you--to complete the work he began in the Rue Gogard!” - -M. le Comte started round upon me, his eyes wild with passion. He -snatched the candle from the table and thrust it near my face, his lips -a-quiver. He held it a moment so, and then set it down again. - -“Liar and traitor,” he said, in a voice shaking with rage, “what -bravado brought you here I cannot guess, or what hope you could have -had that once my hand was on you, you could escape my vengeance!” - -I stood staring at him with open mouth. Had he too gone mad? - -“Were it not for this wound which crazes me,” he went on after a -moment, “I would have you hung this instant. But I myself am hungering -to see you kick your life out at a rope’s end, so we will defer that -pleasure till to-morrow. Take him, men!” he added, and stepped suddenly -away from me. - -They came on with a yell, and I had but time to slash open the face of -the first one, when they had me down, and I thought for a moment would -tear me limb from limb. But their master quieted them with the flat of -his sword as he would have quieted a pack of hounds. - -“To the lower dungeon with him!” he cried, and stood watching as they -dragged me away, his hands to his face, his eyes dark with pain and -rage. I would have spoken even then, and the words might have saved me, -but that d’Aurilly clapped his hand upon my mouth, and with a curse -bade me hold my tongue. Out into the hall they dragged me, using me -more roughly now that they were from under their master’s eyes, and -down a long flight of steps. At the stair-foot they paused a moment and -I heard the rattle of bolts. A door was clanged back and I was pitched -forward into the inky pit beyond. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -I FIND THE KEY TO THE PUZZLE - - -I LAY for some time where I had fallen, nursing my bruises and -reflecting with bitterness upon the singular gratitude of princes. I -was dazed by the suddenness, the unexpectedness, of it all. What had -I done that I should be treated so? And then, in a breath, a flash of -light broke in upon me and brought me to my feet. What was it Letourge -had said, “He will finish the work he began in the Rue Gogard.” The -Rue Gogard--but that was where I had met Claire. Could it be that it -was Letourge and M. le Comte whom I had resisted there; that it was -into the face of M. le Comte himself that white-hot iron had seared? -I shuddered as I recalled the hiss of the iron into his flesh, the -smell of burning, his cry of agony! Small wonder he should thirst for -vengeance! Death on the gibbet would be merciful beside the torture -which he had suffered and which he must suffer still. - -I sat down again to think it out. Yes, there could be no doubt of -it--I had been blind not to see it before. The man in armor had been -styled “M. le Comte” in Duval’s room; he had called his companion -Gaspard, and it was Gaspard whom he had cursed from his bed. Gaspard, -of course, was Letourge. And then Duval’s despair when I had told him -who I was--oh, there could be no doubt of it! And, in a flash, I saw -the full peril of my position. - -Here, then, was I, Paul de Marsan, about to be hanged by order of the -Comte de Cadillac, whose family we of Marsan had served faithfully for -two centuries and more, and whose favor I had thought to win. It had -remained for me to be the first to betray him--though how was I to -know?--and to be the first of the Marsans to die with a rope about his -neck. I saw tumbling about my ears all those pretty castles in the air -which I had spent so much time in building while floating along the -Midouze or taking a lesson with the sword from old Maitre Perigneau, -who had tested his art by my father’s side--and my grandfather’s, as -well--in a hundred combats. It is not a pleasant thing when one is only -twenty, with a heart warm for adventure, to see just ahead the end of -the path--and such an end! More shaken than I cared to own, I rose -again to my feet and determined to find out the nature of this place -into which I had been cast. Perhaps I might yet escape, and M. le Comte -would be less vengeful once his wound had healed. - -The cell was not large, as I discovered by feeling my way along the -walls, all of great stones, delicately fitted,--ten feet square at the -most,--and the low, iron-studded door the only opening. Plainly, I -could not go out until that door was opened, and the path from it to -the gibbet seemed like to be a short one. I stood for a time leaning -against it; at last, overcome by weariness and despair, I sank into one -corner and dropped into a troubled sleep. - -Then, of a sudden, I awoke to feel my wrists seized by iron hands and -twisted behind me. I struggled till my heart seemed like to burst, -certain that this was the end, but those great hands clung to me and -would not be shaken off. - -“Hold him so,” a voice whispered, and the hands tightened. - -I lay still, the sweat starting from my forehead, waiting the blow -that would end it. A hand tore the doublet from my breast,--there was -a moment’s silence broken only by the crackling of a paper,--then the -voice whispered again,-- - -“Strike him!” - -A great blow fell upon my head. - - * * * * * - -I opened my eyes to find a tall fellow bending over me and dashing -water into my face. Another stood near by holding a torch. A flare of -light came from the doorway, and I heard voices and the clank of arms -without. - -“He’s coming round,” said the fellow with the torch, seeing my eyes -open. “He must have struck his head when we pitched him in here. Lucky -for us his skull is thick. Again, Blatot.” - -And the other deluged me again with water. - -I sat upright, sputtering, dazed, suffocated. - -“What is it?” I asked, so soon as I could get my breath. “Do you wish -to choke me?” - -“No, we’ll leave that to the hangman,” answered Blatot grimly. “Just -now we are to take you before M. le Comte. I advise you to go quietly.” - -“I will go gladly,” I said, for I had feared another answer. Besides, -now that I held the key to the puzzle, I might find a way out. “Lead -the way.” - -They fell into place about me and we toiled up the steps to the hall -above. As we reached the stair-head I saw it was full day. Down the -hall we turned, into the room where I had first met d’Aurilly, and -across it to the chamber beyond. - -It was crowded with M. le Comte’s retainers, and they must have got -some wind of my adventure, for a hum of anger greeted my entrance. -M. le Comte himself was seated in a great fauteuil, his face still -bandaged, but seemingly giving him less pain than it had the night -before. D’Aurilly stood beside him, and he smiled maliciously as he -noted my torn and disordered clothing, drenched with water, and the -bruises on my head and face. Plainly he had not forgot that blow on the -mouth--at which I did not greatly wonder, for neither should I have -forgot it. - -“M. de Marsan,” said M. le Comte, when I stood before him, “I have had -you brought here in place of ordering you straight to the gallows that -you may answer certain questions I have to ask of you. ’Twill be wise -on your part to answer them fully and truthfully.” - -“I shall be glad to answer every question Monsieur may please to ask,” -I answered, overjoyed that he should begin so mildly. “I shall be only -too happy to tell Monsieur everything I know.” - -“That is well,” and his brow cleared a little. “You may perhaps yet -save your neck. Now answer me. Where was it you last saw the Duc de -Roquefort?” - -“M. le Comte,” I answered simply, “I have never in my whole life seen -the Duc de Roquefort.” - -His brow contracted and he brought his hand down with a crash upon the -arm of his chair. - -“By God! M. de Marsan,” he cried, “you seem to set small value on that -head of yours! You will be denying next that it was you who came to the -rescue of that cursed, cowardly henchman of his, Brissac, just when I -had him where he must have given up certain papers. You will be denying -that it was you who spitted Bastien, who caused me to suffer this wound -across the face,” and he pointed to his bandaged cheek with a terrible -gesture that sent the blood back to my heart. - -“I deny nothing, Monsieur,” I protested, “but I beg you to believe that -I did not know it was you I was resisting or your enemies I was aiding.” - -“M. le Comte,” broke in d’Aurilly, with an evil light in his eyes, -“has not this farce gone far enough? Why keep this liar longer from the -rope?” - -“Why, indeed?” repeated M. le Comte, looking at me darkly. “Do you -persist in your denials, M. de Marsan?” - -And then of a sudden I remembered the message. With feverish fingers -I sought to draw it from my bosom--it was not there! In a flash I -understood--the assault in the dungeon, the tearing of my doublet, the -rustling of a paper! - -“It has been stolen!” I cried hoarsely, my throat on fire. “Some one -has stolen it from me!” - -I caught d’Aurilly’s eyes on mine, and my heart grew hot with hate as I -marked the sneer on his lips. - -“What hath been stolen?” demanded M. le Comte impatiently. “No tricks, -M. de Marsan!” - -I clinched my hands to still their trembling, until the blood started -beneath the nails. - -“M. le Comte,” I began, “hear me to the end. I came to Montauban from -Marsan as fast as horse could carry me that I might place in your hand -a message which concerns you deeply. You know what my reception was, -but you do not know that after I had been thrown into yonder dungeon -some one crept upon me while I slept and tore the message from me. See, -here is where I carried it. You have a traitor in your house, Monsieur!” - -His face was red, and I could hear the stir in the circle of -men-at-arms behind me. Only d’Aurilly laughed harshly. - -“A pretty story!” he cried. “A brazen lie! Does not your patience near -an end, M. le Comte?” - -But I looked only at my master. Surely he must see that I spoke truth! - -“M. le Comte will remember,” I concluded, “that I told him of this -message in his sleeping-room, but he would not hear me out. The one -who robbed me must have known I carried it, yet I told no one save -yourself, the sentry at the outer door, M. Letourge, and--the Vicomte -d’Aurilly.” - -I was looking full at d’Aurilly now, and I think he read the meaning of -my look, for his face went white, and I could see his hand gripping his -sword-hilt. And in that instant I knew who the traitor was! - -“Good God, M. le Comte!” he burst out, “do you permit us to be insulted -by this scoundrel?” - -But my master waved him to silence. His face was very stern and his -voice cold as steel when he spoke again. - -“You make grave charges, M. de Marsan,” he said; “so grave that either -your head or another’s will fall. Do you know the contents of this -message?” - -“I do, Monsieur,” I answered, and I saw d’Aurilly go white again. “I -have been trying to tell it you. I learned it by rote that I might -repeat it in case I was intercepted and so compelled to destroy it. I -had not foreseen it would be stolen from me at my journey’s end.” - -“Well, repeat it then, man!” he cried, moving in his seat uneasily. -“Out with it!” - -“‘M. le Duc de Roquefort,’” I repeated, “‘has learned of the presence -of Madame la Comtesse at the Château de Cadillac, together with -Mademoiselle, her daughter. He has learned also that not above thirty -men can be mustered to defend the place. He designs to carry it by -surprise and to take prisoner Madame and Mademoiselle, confident that -with them as hostages he can secure certain concessions from M. le -Comte. There is need of haste!’” - -I could hear the crowd behind me breathing hard. A murmur of rage and -astonishment ran from mouth to mouth, and I caught the rattle of a -hundred scabbards as hand fell to hilt. M. le Comte was trembling with -emotion. - -“And the signature!” he cried, bending down from his chair till his -eyes glared into mine. “The signature!” - -“I know nothing of the signature,” I said. “It was not given to me.” - -“But whence came the message? Prove to me that it is genuine--that it -may be believed!” - -“M. le Comte,” I said, as calmly as I could, for the blood was -beginning to sing in my ears, “permit me to tell my story. Three nights -ago a stranger rode up to Marsan. He bore the message which I have just -repeated. My father, who recognized the messenger by some secret sign -which I know nothing of, ordered out his horse at once that he himself -might bring it to Montauban. But my father is growing old, as you -know, Monsieur; besides, in cold, wet weather his wounds trouble him -greatly. I begged that I might come in his stead. I was eager to be of -service to our master--to prove to him my loyalty and address. At last -my father yielded. I should have his horse. The stranger gave me the -paper sealed. He repeated to me its contents--three, four times, until -I knew them word for word. Then he sprang to horse and disappeared -in the night. Five minutes later I was on the road to Montauban. By -noon of the next day I had reached the Losse, and here I was compelled -to stop to rest my horse. Evening saw me en route again. At midnight -I reached Comdan; dawn found me at Lestoure. An hour’s rest, and I -pressed on. At noon I had reached the Garonne. I forded it, and thought -soon to reach Montauban, when, of a sudden, my horse fell lame. He grew -worse at every step, until he was no longer able to proceed. There was -no house in sight, so I left him by the roadside and hastened on afoot. -As evening came I entered Montauban from the west.” - -I paused a moment at what I had yet to tell. - -“Yes, yes!” cried my listener. “Continue; and then?” - -“And then, M. le Comte,” I said, “as I was hastening along the Rue -Gogard a woman burst from a gate and appealed to me for help. Without -pausing to reflect, I followed her. The rest you know.” - -He sat for a moment looking at me. - -“In faith, Monsieur,” he said at last, “if what you say is true,--and -it hath a certain ring of truth about it,--you are not so greatly at -fault as I had thought. I reprieve you from the gallows till I have -tested your story. M. de Fronsac,” he added, to a young man who stood -near by, “I commit M. de Marsan to your care. See that he does not -escape.” - -Fronsac bowed and took his place at my side. - -“See that he is provided with new equipage,” added M. le Comte, with -a gleam of humor in his eye as he looked at me; “he hath need of it.” -And then he rose from his seat and his voice took a sterner ring. -“Messieurs,” he cried, “you have heard this message, and can guess -how nearly it touches us. Whether it be true or false, we shall soon -determine. Arm yourselves!” - -D’Aurilly, leaning on his chair, interrupted him. - -“Do you mean, M. le Comte,” he asked disdainfully, “that you intend to -go forth on this fool’s errand?” - -My master shot him a swift glance, in which I saw suspicion spring to -life. - -“It may be, as you say, a fool’s errand, M. le Vicomte,” he answered. -“Should it prove so, this liar will lose his head. But should -it appear that he spoke truth,”--he paused, his eyes still on -d’Aurilly,--“should it appear that he spoke truth, it will not be his -head that falls. In either case, a spy and traitor will get his dues.” - -D’Aurilly’s eyes were on the floor, but he kept countenance well. - -“I am quite ready for the test, M. le Comte,” he said quietly. “Nothing -will delight me more than to see a traitor get his dues.” - -“Nor me,” assented M. le Comte, and looked at him a moment longer. Then -he turned again to his men with fire in his eyes. “Arm yourselves, -Messieurs!” he cried. “In twenty minutes we must be en route to -Cadillac. Should this dog of a Roquefort, who dares fight only women, -have been there before us, we will follow him even to his den in the -Pyrenees and drag him forth like the cur he is! À outrance!” - -They heard him with gleaming eyes and mantling cheeks. I could hear -their swords rattling, eager to leap from the sheath. The lust of blood -was on them, and they caught up the cry as their master ended. - -“À outrance!” - -Up and down the corridors it echoed as they rushed for the door, -cheering, shouting, cursing. They bore the news along the hall and out -into the court, whence, in a moment, again came the cry,-- - -“À outrance!” - -And the good people of Montauban, hearing it, hurried to their homes -and barred their doors, for they knew that the hounds of Cadillac were -loose again. - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -I MEET A KINDRED SPIRIT - - -HOW it thrilled me--that cry echoing up and down the corridors! What -would I not have given for the chance to ride forth, thigh to thigh -with these lusty ruffians, to give and take good blows! Instead of -that, here was I a prisoner--and at the thought my eyes turned to my -companion. - -He laughed as he caught my glance. - -“Come, M. de Marsan,” he said, “your face is an open book. You are -longing to fare out with these blood-letters. You heard M. le Comte -instruct me to secure you a new equipage. Besides, I doubt not you -stand in need of meat and drink, as well. So come,--for twenty minutes -is not a long time.” - -His last words, spoken after a moment’s teasing hesitation, brought the -hot blood leaping to my cheek. - -“Twenty minutes!” I stammered. “We go also, then, Monsieur?” - -“Assuredly,” he laughed. “Come.” - -I followed him from the room blindly, unable to speak, trembling with -excitement. What a chance! What fortune! I would show whether I or that -cursed, hawk-faced d’Aurilly was to be believed! It made my blood boil -to think of his cool insolence,--his black treachery,--for in my heart -of hearts I was certain that it was he who had stolen my letter--but to -prove it, there was the problem! - -Down the stair we went to a great room piled with arms, where a mob -of crazy men were already choosing what they needed. With great joy I -found my own sword among a pile of others,--its leathern scabbard did -not proclaim the Toledo within, thank Heaven!--and in five minutes was -armed with pistolets and poniard, clothed in a very handsome suit of -black, with great boots, whose spurs clanked most merrily as I rattled -down the stair behind my friend--for such, even in the few minutes I -had known him, I was determined he should be. - -“Now for food,” he said, and I was not sorry to follow him to a room on -the lower floor where there was a long table piled with meat and drink. -“In faith, I have need of it myself,” he added, as he dropped into the -seat at my right, but his appetite was far from keeping pace with mine. - -As I ate I looked at him, and my heart warmed to his frank face and -honest eyes. Young he still was,--not more than a year or two my -senior,--but there was that in his air which proclaimed the soldier and -man of affairs, accustomed to the smiles of fortune and quite ready -to coerce her should she attempt to turn her face away. I had already -realized my helplessness without a friend in this great house, and I -blessed the chance that had thrown me into this man’s keeping. - -“Do you know, M. de Marsan,” he said suddenly, “I was quite moved by -that little tale of yours. I was certain that M. le Comte could not -doubt it.” - -“Thank you, Monsieur,” I answered. “I mean to prove that it is true.” - -“And I am sure you will succeed,” he said heartily. “But, my faith, how -unfortunate it was that you should happen along the Rue Gogard just -when you did! A moment earlier or later, and M. le Comte would perhaps -be in position to bring the Duc de Roquefort to his knees. Small wonder -he was vexed with you--more especially since he received that hideous -scar across the face, which will stay with him always.” - -“I regret that I was such a marplot,” I said, “but I could not well do -other than I did. When a woman asks for aid----” - -“And a young and pretty woman, was she not, Marsan?” queried my -companion, smiling at me broadly. - -“Yes,” I admitted, “young and pretty. Do you know her, Monsieur?” - -He smiled more broadly still. - -“I think I can guess. Did you not hear her name?” - -“The man who was with her called her Claire.” - -He nodded. - -“That is she. Small wonder you leaped to follow her! Claire de Brissac, -but six months out of the good sisters’ keeping, yet already the toast -of the whole valley of the Garonne. It has never been my good fortune -to meet her, but such tales as we have heard! ’Tis said Roquefort -himself is mad about her, and a month since Rumor had them wedded, but -at the last the affair hung fire--through some caprice on her part, -’tis said. She would do well to wed him while she can,” he added. “He -may not choose to call a priest the second time.” - -“But her father,” I said, “her uncle--will not they protect her?” - -Fronsac laughed. - -“Her uncle--pouf! He is nothing--a man of words--a man of some wit -perhaps, but a man who cleans Roquefort’s shoes. He has no spirit, -not even enough to compel the girl’s obedience, else had she been -Madame la Duchesse long ere this. Her father was a man, though,--Sieur -de Brissac,--perhaps you have heard of him? He stood upright at -Roquefort’s side, eye to eye, and his daughter hath his spirit. Great -pity he is dead. - -“It behooves Roquefort to marry,” continued Fronsac after a moment. “He -has no issue. His next of kin is a cousin--a Spaniard whom he hates. -He hath been married once,--a virago from Valladolid, where his cousin -also dwells. She made his life a burden, ’tis said, and with it all -gave him no children. ’Twas more than man could bear. One morning she -was found dead at the cliff-foot--an ugly story.” - -I understood now why Brissac’s face had hardened when he had scented a -romance in the air. He destined the girl for other things--for a higher -place. I could not blame him, and yet--and yet.... - -“But what was Brissac’s business here?” I asked at length. - -“There are strange rumors afoot, Marsan,” and my companion lowered -his voice and glanced about to see that no one else could hear. “It -is said that Roquefort, who, living there in the Pyrenees, is already -more than half Spanish, is trying to persuade the towns of the Midi -to revolt against the King and aid an army of invasion which Spain -will provide. Brissac, ’tis said, came to Montauban to spread the -intrigue here, where there is already a very pretty nest of heretics -and malcontents. Fortunately, M. le Comte has a friend in Roquefort’s -household--as you should know, since you brought a message from -him--and learned of Brissac’s mission. This mission, you understand, -this plan of Roquefort’s, is all in the air--there is no proof of it; -but M. le Comte believed there were in Brissac’s keeping certain papers -which would give all the proof needed. So he determined to corner -Brissac, examine his papers, and if he found the ones he sought, lay -them before the King. Besides, M. le Comte could kill two birds with -one stone--he would do his King a signal service, and by the same -stroke be rid forever of his enemy. But it was a matter which required -finesse--so he determined himself to execute the clever little coup -which you spoiled yestereve.” - -“Yes, yes,” I said, understanding for the first time, and fell a moment -silent, turning over this bit of news. “Monsieur,” I asked, “what is -the cause of the feud between the houses of Cadillac and Roquefort?” - -Fronsac shrugged his shoulders. - -“I do not know,” he answered. “It hath been in the blood for a century. -It started, I have heard, in some absurd question of precedence. It -is the old story of the frog and the mouse who found it impossible to -dwell in peace together. If Roquefort hath sacked Cadillac, there will -be some merry work ere we return to Montauban.” - -I smiled, for this was my first campaign, and it pleased me mightily. -Besides, I had not only to win my spurs, but to prove also to M. le -Comte that I was no liar. - -“Monsieur,” I said, “permit me to assure you that you will have no -cause to watch me. I am too anxious to see this expedition through. My -honor is at stake, and I mean to prove that it is not I but another who -is the traitor. But tell me something of the Vicomte d’Aurilly. How -comes he in this household?” - -I could feel my companion’s eyes searching my face, but I did not meet -his gaze, fearing that he might read my thought. - -“The Vicomte d’Aurilly,” he said quietly at last, “belongs to one of -the oldest families of the Basses Pyrenees. Unhappily, the fortunes of -his house have declined greatly, but this has not lessened his pride, -as you may have perceived. He is in this household because he is a -suitor for the hand of Mademoiselle Valérie, only daughter of M. le -Comte.” - -For a moment I saw my theory falling into bits. If d’Aurilly were -a suitor for Mademoiselle, why should he seek to betray her into -Roquefort’s hands? - -“Only,” added my companion, in a lower tone and with a certain look -that drew from me a second glance, “I believe he is an unsuccessful -suitor. It is said that M. le Comte had the goodness to consult his -daughter in the matter and that she would have none of it.” - -Well, that was different--that gave me the key to d’Aurilly’s motive! -There was a tone in my companion’s voice which drew my eyes again to -his face--he was staring at the table before him, distraught, seeing -nothing. It seemed to me that I could read his secret, and of a sudden -I determined to tell him my theory. I glanced around and saw that the -room was almost empty. - -“M. de Fronsac,” I began, “for what I am about to tell you I have no -proof, yet I believe myself not far beside the mark. And first let me -assure you on my honor that I am what I claim to be, Paul de Marsan, -liege to M. le Comte, and that I brought a message to him. That message -was stolen from me, as you have heard. I believe, Monsieur, that -d’Aurilly was the thief.” - -My companion started round upon me, all his blood in his face. - -“I believe, furthermore,” I added, “that it was d’Aurilly who informed -Roquefort of the defenceless condition of Cadillac. Perhaps he hath -determined that if he cannot get Mademoiselle in one way, he will get -her in another.” - -Fronsac sat for a moment looking at me, his eyes dark, his brows -knitted. - -“Soul of God!” he breathed at last. “If you should be right! How M. le -Comte’s wrath would search him out and consume him! Yet, if he succeed, -he will have Mademoiselle Valérie for hostage--he could dictate terms. -What a plot--the more one thinks of it, the prettier it grows!” Then he -turned to me suddenly. “M. de Marsan,” he said impetuously, “we must be -friends. We two, alone, must set about the unveiling of this scoundrel.” - -He held out his hand with frank earnestness, and I grasped it warmly. - -“Nothing would please me more, Monsieur,” I said with a great -lightening of the heart. “I covet you for a friend.” - -“And I you.” - -I looked into his eyes and read truth and manhood there. So it was -settled. - -I could see that he was in a fever of impatience to be off, and just as -I pushed my platter from me, the call to horse sounded from without. -When M. le Comte said twenty minutes, he meant twenty minutes and not -an instant more. And woe to all laggards! So we hurried down into the -court, where there was a great tangle of men and beasts. Through this -we pushed, my companion leading the way, to the place where our horses, -which he had ordered from the stables, awaited us. My mount was a -great, mettlesome sorrel, and I looked him over with exultation, for we -had none such in our stable at Marsan. - -A moment later M. le Comte himself strode down the steps into the -court, his face still bandaged, and gave the signal to mount. We sprang -to saddle on the instant, and it was wonderful to see how that mob -resolved itself into a little army. Out through the gate we swung, -three hundred strong, the standards--azure; on a bend or a laurel-tree -sinople--floating gayly in front. - -The great gate clanged shut behind us, and I saw that even a small -garrison could hold the place, so admirably was it fitted for defence. -The sun was shining from a sky unclouded, and we made a brave show as -we clattered through the narrow streets of the town, the crowd looking -on from either side. Some of them cheered, but the most were silent and -gazed at us with no friendly eyes, and I saw that, even in Montauban, -M. le Comte’s couch was not an easy one. At last we were out in the -open country and struck into a gait which soon left the walls far -behind. - -I glanced back for a last look at the town, and saw M. le Comte riding -moodily along near the rear of the column. To his left rode Sieur -Letourge, to his right d’Aurilly. - - - - -CHAPTER V - -THE RIDE TO CADILLAC - - -M. LE COMTE’S château of Cadillac stood upon the east bank of the -Garonne, some ten leagues to the south of Montauban. My father had -taken me thither once, when I was a mere boy,--what business called him -there I do not know,--and I remember quite clearly the great house, -with its high, graceful central tower, its broad wings, and the pretty -park in front, sloping sweetly down to the river’s edge. It beseemed -me at the time that the palace of the King of France must be less -beautiful; but, alas, one’s eyes grow more critical with age! - -Our road for a time lay through the wide valley of the river, and as -we swung onward I sat erect in the saddle and drank in great draughts -of the cool air--so sweet, so pure, such as one finds only here in -Gascony. It was good to be alive, in such gallant company, with promise -of hard blows and, perchance, glory at the end. I stole a glance at -Fronsac, not doubting that he shared my exultation, and was astonished -to see him riding with rein loose and head bent and eye lack-lustre. -He surprised my glance and smiled as he looked at me. - -“The question, my friend,” he said, “is, shall we be in time?” - -I did not answer. I confess I did not wish the adventure to end so -speedily and tamely. Besides, I had a great desire to see for myself -the Duc de Roquefort’s stronghold in the Pyrenees, for I had heard it -was worth seeing. - -“When was it you left Marsan?” he asked after a moment. - -“At midnight on the twenty-fourth.” - -“And this is the twenty-seventh. On the morning of the twenty-fifth, -doubtless, the Duc de Roquefort left his seat at Marleon and started -for M. le Comte’s château. By pushing his horses he might have reached -Caumont that night. By evening of yesterday he should have been at -Drovet, and he may get to the château by noon to-day. If he has carried -out this programme, we shall be too late.” - -“But, Monsieur,” I protested, “it may be that he did not set out from -Marleon until the twenty-sixth, or some accident may have happened to -delay him. Besides, he could not have gone by the direct route, since -he was penetrating the country of M. le Comte’s allies. He must keep -his march secret, or run the risk of being taken prisoner. It is only -by great diligence that he could reach the château to-day.” - -“True,” assented my companion gloomily, “yet the Duc de Roquefort -is always diligent--else he would not have dared undertake this -expedition. He is a great gambler, ready to stake his head on the turn -of a card. Some day he will lose, but it seems this time that he must -win.” - -“Grant that he does reach the château at noon to-day,” I said, “still, -even with only thirty men, Madame la Comtesse should be able to hold -out against him for some hours--and five or six hours are all that we -shall need.” - -“True,” and my companion nodded again, “Madame is not the woman to -yield the château without a struggle. But what if she be surprised, -if she be not expecting an assault, if the gates be open--what then, -Monsieur?” - -“Then,” I cried boldly, “we will spur after them, even to their castle -in the Pyrenees! M. le Comte himself hath said it!” - -But Fronsac shook his head. - -“You have never visited Marleon, have you, M. de Marsan?” he asked. - -“No, Monsieur, I have never been farther south than Lembeye.” - -“The castle of M. de Roquefort stands on a height above the town, -and is approached only by a steep and narrow road, where two men can -scarcely walk abreast. The Duc du Poitiers, with an army of three -thousand men, once assaulted it in vain. It will not soon yield to -force.” - -“If not to force, then to stratagem!” I cried. - -“Quite right,” chuckled a low voice behind us. “If not to force, then -to stratagem! Well said!” - -I turned with a start to see that it was the Sieur Letourge, who had -ridden close to us without our perceiving it, and who had overheard my -last words. - -“M. de Fronsac,” he continued, bowing, and urging his horse nose to -nose with mine, “M. le Comte wishes to speak with you. Do you fall back -and join him. I will endeavor to entertain our friend here,” and he -nodded to me. - -Fronsac obeyed without a word, and for some moments my new companion -and I rode side by side in silence. I glanced at him narrowly from -time to time, for this was the first that I had seen him in the light -of day and close at hand. A tall, raw-boned man, whose hair was turning -gray, and whose stern face, with its arched nose, deep-set eyes, firm -mouth, and aggressive chin, told of the will which would never accept -defeat. Not a pleasant face, perhaps, yet a strong one, an honest -one, and one which drew my eyes to it by a kind of fascination. This -was the man, as I well knew, who for some score of years had been the -right hand of M. le Comte and who had done more than any other to -confirm his rule over his great estates, to win for him friends and -allies the length and breadth of the Midi, and to impress his enemies, -the Duc de Roquefort among the number, with a hearty respect for his -heavy fist--his heavy fist, that is, the two or three hundred reckless -rogues whom he held in leash and let loose from time to time to punish -some contumacious lordling or frighten into subjection a rebellious -peasantry. Ah, how the peasants hated him,--this man, Letourge, who -had pulled himself up from among them by sheer strength of will and -straightway forgot his kinship with them! He could not serve two -masters, so he served M. le Comte, and served him well. - -He caught my glance, and smiled grimly as he looked into my eyes. - -“You were talking of storming Roquefort’s castle at Marleon?” he asked. - -“Yes, Monsieur.” - -“’Twill be no easy task.” - -“But it may not be needful. We may reach the château in time.” - -He shook his head, as Fronsac had done. - -“Had we set out last night,” he said. “Had we permitted you to deliver -your message straightway! I can see now that I played the fool. Yet the -sight of you there in M. le Comte’s ante-chamber took my wits away. You -spoke a true word, M. de Marsan, when you told me I should regret my -wrath.” - -I looked at him eagerly. - -“Then you too believe my story, M. Letourge?” I asked quickly. - -He gave me one look from under his eyebrows. - -“Surely,” he answered. “Babes scarce out of leading-strings do not lie -so glibly. They seem ready, though, to run to the aid of the first -woman they hear squawking!” - -I flushed at his tone, but checked the retort which sprang to my lips. -After all, I had doubtless much to learn. - -“But though we may not reach Cadillac in time, we may yet win the -race,” he added. “You have noted, perhaps, that we are saving the -horses. Should we push forward at full speed to Cadillac, that would be -the end--we could go no farther. As it is, we are starting on a long -journey, and Roquefort may be hard put to it ere he gets back again -behind his battlements at Marleon.” - -He fell silent again, looking so stern and inflexible that I had not -the heart to address him. Yet it seemed to me that M. le Comte was -in error. Even if the whole force were not sent forward, it would be -wise, I thought, to send a small party at full speed to attempt to warn -Madame. But this was my first campaign, so why should I venture to -advise? - -At last I heard the gallop of a horse’s feet behind us, and Fronsac -rode up, his eyes agleam with excitement. - -“Such fortune!” he cried, as he pulled up his horse beside mine. “Do -you know to what M. le Comte has consented, my friend? It is that you -and I shall ride on together, full speed, to Cadillac.” - -It was my thought; I was not a fool, after all! - -“You forget,” interrupted Letourge dryly, “that M. de Marsan is a -prisoner.” - -“And in my charge,” said Fronsac proudly. “M. le Comte entrusts him to -me. I will answer for him.” - -“Thank you, Monsieur,” I said, my face aglow with pleasure. “I shall -not forget your kindness. When do we set out?” - -“At once!” cried Fronsac, and clapped spur to flank. - -With a last glance at Letourge, who was looking at us with amused eyes, -I sped after him, and in a moment we were past the troop and with only -the open road before us. Neck and neck we went for half an hour or -more, my heart bounding at the rapid motion, and then we drew rein to -give our mounts a breathing-spell. - -“What a chance!” cried my companion, lifting his hat and wiping the -sweat from his brow. “Do you know, Marsan, there is an adventure before -us? I believe we shall reach the château ahead of Roquefort and his -rascals!” - -“I trust so,” I said. “It would be a privilege to be in time to warn -Madame.” - -“And Mademoiselle,” he added. - -“Of course, and Mademoiselle,” I assented, smiling to myself. - -“Then come!” he cried, “spur on again!” - -And spur on again we did, under the trees of the river road, down to -the ford and across, then straight over-country as the river bent away -eastward, the peasants’ huts flying past us and the workers in the -fields straightening themselves with cracking joints to get a glimpse -of us. An hour of this riding, and we were back at the river’s bank, -where we stopped to wind and water our horses. Then across the river -again, with Brassu on our left, and only two leagues to go. But noon -was long since past, and I saw Fronsac, with anxious eyes, mark the -declining sun. Still on and on we went, and I could feel my mount -trembling between my knees. Plainly there was no question here of -sparing horses. - -“Around that bend, up the hill beyond, and we are there!” cried my -companion at last. “Look to your pistols!” - -I drew them from their holsters, one after the other, and assured -myself that they were primed and ready for service. - -In a moment we were around the bend of the road, and before us lay a -long, gentle slope. Up this we spurred, and there beneath us in the -valley stood the château, peaceful and smiling under the bright sun of -the Midi. I could see half a dozen lacqueys lolling about the great -gate. But it was not at them I looked. It was at a gleam of arms and -warlike equipage which was just topping the opposite slope, and my -heart leaped, for I knew that it must be the force of Roquefort. - -There was a thrill in that moment worth a year of life. How my blood -sang! - -But no pausing there! Again the spur, and down the slope we rushed, our -mounts responding gamely with a last burst of speed. Roquefort’s men -must have seen us in the same instant and understood our mission, for -they came tearing down the other slope to head us off. The cries, the -beat of horses’ hoofs, the rattle of arms, reached to the château. At a -glance, I saw the lacqueys laboring at the great gates--we should be in -time--the château was safe--we would win the race! - -Then, of a sudden, came a shrill, frenzied cry from my companion, and -he jerked his horse about and galloped full course towards the river. -For an instant I thought him seized with sudden madness, but as my -eyes followed him I saw a sight which made my heart stand still. - -Almost on the river bank an arbor had been built, and at its door a -girl was standing. I saw at a glance her beauty and the richness of her -dress. It must be Mademoiselle--it could be no other! In a flash, I too -had pulled my horse around and galloped after my companion. Thank God, -there was not far to go! - -“This way, this way, Valérie!” cried Fronsac, standing up in his -stirrups, frenzied with excitement. - -She stood for an instant confused, uncertain, looking at him. Then she -sped towards him, her face alight. - -I thought for a breath that he must ride her down, but he jerked -his horse back upon its haunches, leaned down, and swung her to the -saddle before him. She threw her arms about him and laid her head upon -his breast. I felt my eyes grow wet with sudden tears as I saw the -tenderness of that gesture. - -It seemed given in the face of death, for down the hillside at us -thundered Roquefort’s rascals. There was no escape--yet a man must not -die unavenged, and I snatched my pistols out and fired at the leaders. -I saw one of them grimace in agony; down he came, headlong; a horse -stumbled and fell, throwing another off its feet. I tried to pull my -mount aside, but in an instant the flood of cursing men and tangled, -kicking beasts had overwhelmed me and borne me down, then caught me up -again and hurled me down the hill. I caught a glimpse of my companion -standing at bay, his back to the river, his fair burden still in his -arms, still gazing up into his face--what an instant for a man to die! -Then the flood was over me again and crushed the light away. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -I TASTE OF ROQUEFORT’S TEMPER - - -“AGAIN!” cried a rude voice, and some unseen power caught me up and -thrust me under water. It was icy cold, and I felt dimly, without -caring greatly, that I was suffocating. Then I was plucked forth -again--ah, how sweet the good air was! I drew a long breath and opened -my eyes. - -The river was flowing at my feet. A sturdy knave supported me on either -side and looked questioningly at a man who stood two paces off. It was -they who had plunged me under water. Hot with rage, I tried to shake -them off, but they held me as though I were a child. - -“That is better!” cried the man. “He seems to have come to his senses. -Stand him against that tree.” - -They led me to the tree he pointed out and stood me up against it. I -wiped the water from my eyes and looked about me again. This time I -understood. I was a prisoner, and the man directing the affair was no -doubt the Duc de Roquefort. He came close to me where I stood, still -trembling with exhaustion. - -“I suppose you see the desperate nature of your case,” he said coolly, -his deep-set eyes glittering full into mine. He had a swarthy face, -not uncomely, though lined with passion, and his eyes were like a -basilisk’s. “You will see it still more clearly when I assure you that -there is only one possible way for you to save your life--that is by -answering truthfully my questions.” - -He paused a moment as though to permit his words to sink deep into my -consciousness. There was need that I should think quickly. I glanced -towards the château and saw that the gates were closed and the tower -manned. I looked at Roquefort’s troops, dismounted, lolling in the edge -of the wood along the river, waiting his pleasure. One group, however, -was still under arms, and my pulse leaped as I saw they were on guard -with Fronsac and Mademoiselle in their midst. If by some lie I could -hold Roquefort here for two hours or even less, M. le Comte might yet -be in time for rescue. I felt my captor’s eyes on mine and turned away -for fear he would read my thought. - -“You understand?” he asked, after a moment. - -I nodded. - -“And you agree?” - -“Proceed, Monsieur,” I said. - -“You were with Cadillac?” he asked. - -“At Montauban--yes, Monsieur.” - -“Come, no lies. He is near by.” - -“No nearer than Montauban, Monsieur.” - -He glared at me for a moment, but my strength had come back to me, and -this time I could meet his gaze without shrinking. - -“Then what do you and Fronsac here?” he demanded. - -“My friend carries a message to Madame,” I answered readily, glad to -find an answer that was near the truth. “He chose me to ride hither -with him.” - -He looked at me yet a moment, then turned away and gazed towards the -château, twisting his moustaches and muttering to himself. - -“If I had proof--if I had proof--there would yet be time to capture the -woman too and send this pretty place up in smoke!” - -He turned again to me with those snake’s eyes of his agleam. - -“Is this true?” he demanded between his teeth. “Tell me again, is this -true? Think well before you answer. A lie will cost you such hours of -agony as you have never dreamed of.” - -“There is M. de Fronsac,” I suggested. “Ask him also.” - -He laughed harshly. - -“M. de Fronsac prefers to hold his tongue,” he said. “Think you I -should otherwise have troubled to bring you back to life? Answer me. Is -this true?” - -“It is true,” I repeated. - -“Very good. I am going to believe you. But if I find you have betrayed -me----” A look finished the sentence, which, indeed, needed no other -ending. - -I did not flinch under his gaze. Could I but keep him there until M. le -Comte laid hold of him, I need care little for his threats. - -He hurried away from me and was soon preparing for the attack in a -manner which bespoke his skill in warfare. Four men were sent across -the valley to the heights beyond to watch the road by which Fronsac and -I had come, and so guard against surprise. A hundred men were massed -opposite the great gate of the château, and two parties of perhaps -fifty passed out of sight behind either wing. A moment later an order -came to the men who were guarding me, and I was led towards the group -that stood about the other prisoners. - -I saw Fronsac looking towards me with joyful face, and then he stooped -and whispered a few words into the ear of Mademoiselle. What they were -I could only guess, but she arose from the log on which she had been -sitting and turned her bright face towards me. Then, for the first -time, I caught the full power of her beauty, and as I looked I did not -wonder that d’Aurilly should turn traitor or Fronsac risk his life for -her, since in their hearts there was no other face like that which -lived in mine. - -“So you still live, Marsan!” cried my friend, as the group parted to -let me through. “But I am glad!” and he came towards me, holding out -his hands. - -My heart warmed to him anew as I hastened forward to grasp them, but -one of the guards stepped in between. - -“No talking!” he said gruffly. “It is M. le Duc’s order.” - -I felt my cheek crimson at his insolence, and for an instant my hands -itched to be at his throat, but I caught Fronsac’s eyes fixed on me -warningly, and realized that no good could come of violence. So we sat -down with Roquefort’s man between us and watched the attack on the -château with feelings I need not describe. - -Events had gone forward there even in the few minutes my attention had -been drawn away. The force at the main gate had armed themselves with a -great log, and, even as we turned towards them, a pistol-shot gave the -signal which put it in motion. At the same instant a great uproar arose -behind the château, proving that the attack had begun there also. The -men with the log moved slowly at first, but faster and faster as they -gathered momentum. As they neared the gate a dozen muskets were fired -from the walls, and some few of Roquefort’s men fell, but the forward -rush did not pause nor waver. Plainly the garrison of the château was -too small to make effective resistance, and my heart fell within me. -What if I had done wrong in keeping Roquefort here? What if M. le Comte -should, after all, arrive too late? You can guess the agony of the -thought! - -On and on swept the rush, and the log was hurled against the gate -with a tremendous crash. In a moment it was caught up again like a -wisp of straw, borne backward, and hurled forward. I saw a group of -the assailants linger at the gate, then suddenly scurry away from it. -There came a flash of flame, a roar, and a great cloud of smoke whirled -skyward. - -“A petard!” cried Fronsac. “They have fired a petard!” - -As the smoke passed, we saw that one of the gates had been blown -inward, but the other still hung by its bars. With a cheer, the -assailants rushed forward. It was over then! I had lost M. le Comte his -wife and his château! Now, indeed, would he have cause to hate me! - -But of a sudden the four sentries burst out of the wood at the -hill-crest like men possessed and scoured down into the valley. I saw -Roquefort exchange a hurried word with them, give a quick order, then -spur towards us, and as he neared us I marked how rage distorted his -face and made it hideous. - -“Bring up a dozen horses--the freshest!” he cried to the guard, and -as the men hastened away he turned to me. “Monsieur,” he said in a -voice that chilled me, “I warned you of your fate should you betray me, -but it seems you did not heed the warning. You counted, perhaps, on a -rescue. But you will never see Cadillac again,--oh, how I shall pay you -for this!” - -His eyes were glaring into mine, bloodshot, venomous, and I confess -that at the bottom of my soul I feared him. Yet still I managed to -achieve a smile. - -“We shall see, M. le Duc,” I said. - -He seemed choked with rage and answered only by an angry gesture of -the arm which hastened up the horses. In a moment Fronsac and I were -bound to two of them and Mademoiselle strapped to a pillion behind a -brawny soldier. I was hot with rage at the roughness with which they -treated her, and I saw Fronsac straining at his bonds, his face livid. -But in a breath we were off, the three of us with our little escort, -at first under the trees along the river, then up the slope beyond. As -we reached the crest, I looked back and saw Roquefort marshalling his -forces at the edge of the wood to cover our retreat, and beyond, along -the road, I fancied I caught a glimpse of M. le Comte’s troops, but we -were deep among the trees again before I could make sure. - -Down the hill we went at a pace which, tied to the saddle as I was, -seemed doubly foolhardy. Plainly our escort had their orders, and -feared death less than the displeasure of their master. Evening was at -hand, and under the great trees it was soon so dark that the man before -me, leading my horse, seemed but a shadow. Yet they appeared well -acquainted with the ground, and there was not a moment’s slackening of -our speed. - -At last we emerged from the forest into a rough road, and for a moment -the brightness seemed almost that of noonday, so great was the contrast -with the gloom of the woods. A wide and fertile plain lay before us, -and away to the south I could see a range of mountains faintly outlined -against the sky, and I knew they were the Pyrenees. - -The road led us southward along a river, which I guessed was the -Ariege. But though the land seemed fertile and promising, there -were few houses--only a narrow peasant’s hut here and there, more -squalid than any I had ever seen in our good Marsan country. So when, -presently, there appeared ahead, standing just at the edge of the -road, a building of more than usual size, I looked at it with no little -interest. As we neared it, I saw standing before the door two horses -with women’s equipage, and of a sudden the leader of our troop put his -fingers to his mouth and blew a shrill blast. - -Almost on the instant the door opened and two women came out, attended -by a little, fat man, evidently the keeper of the house. They stood -looking at us for a moment, then turned to mount their horses. There -seemed something strangely familiar about one of the figures. As she -stood, I could not see her face, for she wore a hood pulled over her -head and a cloak wrapped about her to protect her from the cold--then, -with a start, I recognized the cloak. It was mine--the one I had -dropped in the hallway of the house in the Rue Gogard. And with -fast-beating heart I knew that it was Claire who wore it! - -Some exclamation must have escaped me, for the fellow at my right asked -me roughly what the matter was. I did not answer, and we rode on in -silence. In a moment we had pulled up before the house, and our leader -rode ahead to exchange a word with the women. Then he came back again -and ordered forward the horse on which Mademoiselle was mounted. She -was unstrapped and assisted to alight, then led into the inn, doubtless -for refreshment. - -But I was not thinking of her, I was watching Claire--the poise of her -figure, her superb grace in the saddle. Slowly she reined her horse -around until she faced us, and I saw her examining the members of the -troop. With feverish lips, I watched her eyes as they went from face to -face--and in a moment I was looking straight into them, with the blood -bounding to my temples. - -For a breath she held me so, then turned her eyes away, slowly, -indifferently, without a sign that she had known me! - -And of a sudden I found myself shivering with cold, and remembered, for -the first time that afternoon, that my clothing was still dripping with -the water of the river. - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -A VISION IN THE NIGHT - - -DIMLY I saw Mademoiselle come out again into the road and mount a horse -that had been provided for her. Fronsac and I were unbound, though -not entrusted with our horses’ bridles, and we set forward at a more -leisurely pace than had marked the first stage of the journey. Plainly -there was no longer immediate fear of pursuit, and our guard relaxed -somewhat, breaking now and again into a snatch of song or shouting a -rude joke back and forth. I saw that our retreat was being made on -some well-matured plan, and my heart sank as I realized how remote was -chance of rescue. - -The man at my right, who seemed to regard me with some small trace of -kindness, perceiving my blue nose and chattering teeth, gave me his -cloak, and this wrapped around me rendered the journey somewhat less of -torture. But nothing could drive away the chill which had settled about -my heart when I had looked into Claire’s eyes and caught no answering -gleam of friendship and interest in them. I did not see her again, for -she kept to the rear of the column with the other women, and I held my -face turned resolutely to the front, for even a cadet of Gascony has -his pride. - -Night found us near Drovet, as I gathered from the talk of my guards, -for the country was quite unknown to me, but we left that squalid -village far on the right and pressed on through the darkness for an -hour longer. It seemed to me, from the uneven nature of the ground, -that we must have left the road, and I was about to ask whither we were -bound, when the command came to halt. - -I could distinguish absolutely nothing in the darkness, but my guards -appeared to know the place well, and one of them, dismounting, led my -horse slowly forward across what seemed to be a bridge. I caught a -gleam of light ahead, and in a moment we turned a corner and I could -see something of my surroundings. - -We were in the inner bailey of a castle, once of no little strength, -but fallen quite into decay, for the curtains were cracked and ragged -and broken, and two of the corner towers had toppled over. The donjon -loomed up into the darkness at one end, and alone seemed to have -defied the hand of time and the despoiler. - -Towards this we rode, and at the door my captors leaped from the saddle -and helped me to dismount. I should have fallen had they not supported -me, for my joints had lost the power of motion. They led me to a corner -where a fire had just been started, and set me with my back against the -wall. - -In a moment I saw them leading Fronsac in, and they set him down -opposite me, one of the men taking the precaution to stand guard -between. Presently the women passed, and I saw Mademoiselle smile at -my companion--a smile which brought the glad blood to his cheek and -in which there was life and hope. The others did not even glance in -our direction, though I watched them till they had disappeared into an -inner room. - -But a woman’s coldness could not rob me of the grateful warmth of the -fire. How good it felt! My clothing was soon steaming in the heat, and -I struggled to my feet and turned slowly about before the blaze in -order to dry myself more thoroughly. I felt better with every minute, -save for a great and growing emptiness within, for I had eaten nothing -since my hasty breakfast with Fronsac at Montauban. - -It was perhaps half an hour before one of the men came back to us -and ordered us to follow him. He led the way to the right through a -doorway into a lofty room, which, shattered and time-stained as it -was, retained still some traces of its former beauty. At one end was -the great fireplace, and in this a fire had been kindled and two men -were busily engaged preparing food. A lamb had been bought or stolen -somewhere, stripped deftly of its hide, dismembered, and set to roast -before the fire, and most savory and inviting did it smell. A pile of -bread, nearer black than white, was heaped upon a table, and to this we -were led and told to take what we wanted. A dripping piece of meat was -added, and we sat down again in our warm corners to enjoy it. Even now -it makes my mouth run to think of that meal and how good it tasted. - -I could see that Fronsac relished it too, though the blood in his cheek -may have come from happiness. The guard still watched between us to -prevent our talking, while the others sat before the fire, crunching -their bread and meat. A sorry-looking lot they were, gathered, -doubtless, from the banditti who infested the mountains--Spaniards -most of them, swarthy and dirty, with countenances where one might -search in vain for a trace of kindliness. Yet sitting there I caught a -glimpse of the joy they got from life--a hard day’s march or stirring -fight, and then, after it, a snug seat close before a good fire, with -bread and meat, and, oh! such hunger to relish it! - -The women I saw nothing of, and I thanked fortune that they had a -place apart in which to pass the night. But it was evidently here that -we were to sleep, for some of the men had already rolled themselves -in their cloaks and lay down against the wall, a saddle for pillow, -prepared to spend the night with what comfort they could. Not one of -them, except the guard between us, seemed to give us the slightest -heed, and for the first time since I had awakened with the water of -the river in my ears the thought of escape came to me. With only one -man to deal with, it would not be a difficult thing, provided he could -be silenced without awaking any of the others. At least, it was worth -thinking over. I got slowly to my feet, stretched my arms, and yawned. -Then I took a step towards the door, but the sentry stopped me. - -“You will remain here, Monsieur,” he said. - -“But I am weary,” I protested. “Where am I to spend the night?” - -He grinned and pointed back at the corner. - -“You will spend it there,” he said. “But here comes Drouet, whose -business it is to look after you.” - -As he spoke the fellow who had ridden at my right all evening entered, -and with him another whom I remembered having seen with Fronsac. They -came direct to us, spread their cloaks before the fire, and Drouet -motioned me to seat myself on his. - -“As I am responsible for your continuance with us, Monsieur,” he said, -sitting down beside me, “we must take a few precautions.” - -“Very well,” I said. “Do whatever you think needful.” - -Without more words he produced some pieces of rope. With one of these -he bound my right ankle to his left one, and then the guard came -forward and bound our wrists together. - -“I think that will do,” he said. “I advise you not to endeavor to get -them loose, Monsieur, for I sleep lightly. Besides, M. le Duc cautioned -me not to hesitate to kill you should you attempt escape.” - -“I shall attempt to do nothing but go to sleep,” I answered, yawning, -and we lay down together. - -I saw that Fronsac watched all this keenly, and I knew that he too was -thinking of flight. His guard sat down beside him, as mine had done. - -“There are two courses open to you, Monsieur,” he said. “Either give -me your word of honor not to attempt to get away, or submit to the -programme that has been carried out with your friend yonder. I must tie -your hands and feet.” - -“But,” Fronsac protested, “they have not tied the hands and feet of my -friend.” - -The fellow stepped over and looked down to see how I was secured. - -“No,” he said, “but I am not a light sleeper, like Drouet there. I -can’t afford to take that chance. Come, Monsieur, choose.” - -For answer Fronsac held out his hands, and in a moment they were lashed -together. Another rope was bound tightly about his ankles. - -“There,” grunted the fellow, as he secured the last knot. “Now, -Monsieur, you may try to leave us if you wish. Only I warn you there -are some sentries about who will not hesitate to fire,” and rolling -himself in his cloak, he was snoring in a moment. - -Despite my fatigue, sleep did not come readily to my eyes. My brain was -busy with thoughts of escape. I realized that once within Roquefort’s -stronghold at Marleon I should not find it easy to come out again, and -I had no desire for that introduction to the rack which he had promised -me. But to escape was no easy thing. I lay for long trying to devise -some plan which offered at least a prospect of success. I might reach -out with my free hand, grasp Drouet by the throat, and hold him so -until he ceased to breathe. But I realized that, with one hand, it was -most unlikely I could master so powerful a man, to say nothing of the -noise such an encounter must create. A sudden blow was impossible for -like reason. I tried softly to remove my hand from the knot which held -it, but found that, too, impossible. I tried to reach the knot with my -free hand, but Drouet stirred uneasily, and I lay still again. By the -fading light of the fire I could dimly see Fronsac struggling to free -himself, but with no more success than I. A sentry’s step sounded at -the door and a shadowy figure appeared there for a moment, looking -over the room to see that all was well. Then he disappeared into the -outer darkness, and for a time I watched the shadows dancing along the -walls and over the ceiling. Gradually they grew faint and fainter, and -fatigue weighed down my eyelids. - -How long I slept I do not know, but I opened my eyes with a start and -looked about the room. The fire had burned so low on the hearth that -the place was almost in utter darkness, save for an instant, now and -then, as a log fell asunder and sent a shower of sparks into the air. -It was during one of these flashes that I fancied I saw a figure moving -far down the room, but the light died away before I could make sure. I -rubbed my eyes, braced my head against the wall, and waited. Yes, there -it was again--this time there could be no mistaking--a cloaked figure -bending over one man and then passing on to the next. What could it -mean? - -[Illustration: My bonds fell from me] - -The light died out again, but in a moment I saw the figure once more, -this time much nearer, and coming slowly down the line of sleeping men -towards the corner where I lay. Nearer and nearer it came, until I -felt a pair of eyes looking down into mine. - -“M. de Marsan,” breathed a voice, “you are awake? Close your eyes to -show me that you hear.” - -I closed my eyes an instant, the blood rushing to my temples, my nerves -a-quiver. I could not mistake that voice--no, not even its whisper! - -“Can you get up?” asked the voice. - -I shook my head and pointed with my free hand to my bound wrist and -ankle. - -In an instant the figure had dropped to its knees beside me. I felt -swift fingers lightly examining the ropes, I caught the gleam of a -knife, and my bonds fell from me. - -“Now, follow me, Monsieur,” whispered the voice. - -For the moment I forgot everything but the joy of being with her--the -joy of holding her hand again and whispering in her ear. I got -cautiously to my knees, to my feet, and stole down the room after her. -A shower of ashes threw the place into sudden light and sent my heart -into my throat, but none of the sleepers stirred. She paused in the -shadow of the farthest corner until I had reached her side. - -“There, M. de Marsan,” she whispered, “is a door through which, I -think, you may escape. You see I am not ungrateful.” - -“Ungrateful!” I repeated, hoarsely, and caught her hand. - -“You must go, Monsieur,” she protested. “Even a moment’s loitering here -may mean recapture.” - -“But I am going to risk that moment. Mademoiselle,” I said. “You see -that my words have proved true and that we have met again; only, this -afternoon, I thought you had forgot me.” - -“Oh, no, M. de Marsan,” she breathed, “I had not forgot you, nor am I -like to do so. Only I knew I could not help you did any one suspect me -for your friend. But you must go--hasten!” - -“And you?” I asked. - -“Oh, I--I will return to the apartment where my maid and Mademoiselle -de Cadillac are sleeping,” and she made a little motion towards another -door, almost hidden in the shadow. - -There was a step at the door, and we saw the sentry enter and pause to -glance about the room. For an instant I was certain he had seen us, so -intently did he look towards the corner where we were, but at last he -passed on again. - -I felt that the hand I held close in mine was trembling. - -“You see the folly of delay, Monsieur,” she panted. “You must go,--they -must not retake you,--better to die fighting than to wait for death -at Marleon! Ah, you do not know!” and she drew her hand from mine and -pressed it for a moment to her eyes. How fair, how sweet she was! How I -trembled to take her in my arms! “Adieu, Monsieur. My prayers go with -you.” - -“And only your prayers, Mademoiselle?” I whispered, my heart on fire. - -“Go, go!” she repeated, and held out her hand. - -I caught it in both of mine and pressed it to my lips. - -“Again I say, Mademoiselle, that this is not the last time,” and I held -tightly to the hand, which she would have drawn away. “I understand -nothing of how you came to be awaiting us at the inn back yonder, but -I know that it is fate which has thrown us together twice already. The -third time we shall not part so quickly.” - -And again she shook her head as she had in the Rue Gogard. - -“I have not your confidence in fate, Monsieur,” she said. “Believe me, -you must go. If you will not consider your own peril, think of mine.” - -True, I was a fool to have forgot it. - -“Pardon,” I said. “Forgive me for thinking only of myself.” - -I pressed my lips again to her soft, warm palm, and, not trusting -myself to look at her, turned towards the door she had pointed out to -me. - -And then, in an instant, I remembered! I had not myself alone to -consider--there were Mademoiselle and Fronsac who must be freed also! -I could not leave them in this den of wolves--what a coward they would -think me! - -I turned back. None of the sleepers had stirred, nor seemed like to -stir. Claire had disappeared into the inner room. I groped my way -slowly across the floor. I could see Fronsac sitting against the wall. -How his eyes brightened at sight of me coming back! He held his bound -wrists towards me eagerly. - -“I thought you gone,” he whispered. “I was a fool! I might have known -you would come back!” - -His eyes were dark and moist with emotion--his voice trembled. What a -thing it is to have a friend! - -And then, of a sudden, there came the beat of horses’ hoofs without, a -sharp challenge; Drouet, awakened, rubbed his eyes sleepily, saw the -severed cords, and leaped to his feet with a yell. I tried to rise -to meet him, but he saw me on the instant, and with a bound like a -panther’s was upon me. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -MARLEON! - - -ONE man I might play even with, but not with the half dozen who sprang -to Drouet’s aid, and at the end of a moment, seeing resistance useless, -I lay still, cursing my ill-fortune. The struggle had awakened all the -men, and they crowded about us, asking many questions. - -“What is this?” cried a deep voice from the door. “Fighting among -yourselves? God! But some head shall suffer!” - -I recognized the voice and got slowly to my feet, as Roquefort strode -into the light cast by the fire. I looked at him in amazement, for his -eyes were bloodshot, his face haggard, his clothing stained with mud. -Plainly, M. le Comte had given him a warm argument, and he had been -hard put to it to shake him off. - -“It was no quarrel, M. le Duc,” explained Drouet, “nothing but this -fellow trying to escape.” - -“To escape!” cried Roquefort. “Do you tell me that you left a door for -his escape, Drouet? You value that neck of yours but lightly, then!” - -“I bound him to me hand and foot, Monsieur,” said Drouet humbly. “You -know I am not a heavy sleeper. How he got loose without awakening me I -cannot imagine.” - -He went to the spot where we had lain and picked up the pieces of rope. -A sharp cry escaped him as he looked at them. - -“Well?” asked Roquefort angrily. “What new surprise?” - -“See, Monsieur,” cried Drouet, holding out the rope-ends. “He did not -get loose of himself. Some one came, cut the ropes, and freed him.” - -For a moment Roquefort gazed at the ropes without speaking, but his -face, when he raised it to mine, was terrible. - -“A traitor!” he said. “A traitor here!” and he looked about him with -eyes that sent a shiver through his men. “Oh, but some one shall pay -for this! You shall tell us, Monsieur, who it was that cut your bonds -and then you will have a companion on the rack. What a death! I could -find it in my heart to pity you, Monsieur, did I not hate you so!” - -He stood yet a moment looking at me, then turned away, and I heard a -murmur from the crowd at the door. - -“To horse!” he cried. “Bind these two rogues to the saddle! Bring forth -the women!” - -In an instant all was confusion. Drouet and another led me away, out -into the black court, through a crowd of sweating horses and cursing -men-at-arms, to the place where our mounts were stabled. Again I was -seated in the saddle, and a rope passed from ankle to ankle beneath the -horse’s belly. Drouet laughed savagely as he tied the last knot. - -“There, my brave,” he said, “I’ll warrant you’ll stay with us yet a -little longer.” - -I had not the heart to retort, but sat silent while the troop fell -into line again. I strained my eyes through the darkness for a glimpse -of Fronsac or the women, but saw no sign of either. At last came the -word to march, and we set off slowly through the night. No road, this -time, but what seemed rough hill-land, so slowly did we pick our way. -Drouet was in a savage mood, reflecting, doubtless, that had I escaped -he must have suffered for it, and did what he could to make my position -irksome by leading my mount over the roughest places and pricking him -suddenly from time to time. - -Dawn found us in a narrow valley with a little brook singing through. -Far ahead I could see the peaks of the Pyrenees, nearer than the day -before, but still leagues away. In the midst of a little grove of trees -the word came to dismount, and the men swung themselves wearily from -the saddle. It was easy to see that they had been hard pressed. Their -horses were almost done; yes, and the stains upon their clothing were -not wholly those of the road, for some carried their arms in slings, -some had their heads bandaged, some clung to the saddle with convulsive -fingers, their lips purple, their eyes set with suffering. So there -had been a battle, and M. le Comte had won! I remembered his concern -to keep his horses fresh and looked back over the way we had come in -the wild hope that I might see him in pursuit, but I saw only the bleak -hillside, the barren rocks, the strip of woodland. - -Yet Roquefort shared the same concern, for he stationed sentries on the -neighboring hilltops and gave his men but a brief half-hour to prepare -their meal and wind their horses. And here I caught a glimpse of the -agony of a soldier’s life--the wounded men groaning and cursing, the -white fear of death upon them, their lips trembling in self-pity, -receiving but scant attention, for the others were dead-weary from -their long ride. One poor fellow came suddenly to the end, and was -carried aside with little ceremony and a few rocks piled upon him. -These scoundrels looked too often in the face of death to fear it until -it came home to each one separately. - -The half-hour passed and we set forward again, only this time, in the -light, I saw that Roquefort rode at the column’s head with another -man at his side. My eyes dwelt upon him idly and I wondered who this -newcomer could be. He sat his horse well and was richly dressed--so -richly that he seemed out of place in this bedraggled, road-stained -mob. They were deep in talk, and at one moment Roquefort pointed away -to the west. His companion turned his head to follow the gesture, and I -caught his profile--there was no mistaking that arched nose, that low -forehead, that cruel mouth--it was d’Aurilly! - -I clutched my saddle to hold my seat, my emotion shook me so. Then he -was the traitor, after all! And the plot, of which I had caught but -a glimpse, lay before me like an open book. D’Aurilly was to have -Mademoiselle; Fronsac could eat his heart out if he chose, or swallow -his chagrin, if his gullet were big enough; with Mademoiselle for -hostage, M. le Comte could be brought to terms; and as for me---- - -I would not think of it! Here was I still alive and with my wits to -help me. Even at the worst there should be no tearing to pieces, no -death by inches. I would find an easier way than that. Yet I do not -deny that for an instant I found it in my heart to regret the green -fields of Marsan, to regret that I had not been content to remain there -quietly and leave these great men to find other pawns to sacrifice. -Yet, after all, this was life, this was living, and only the night -before I had looked into a pair of eyes and fancied I saw love there. -Was not that worth something? - -What need to tell more of the journey? Day and night we pushed on, -until our horses stumbled under us, over hill, through valley, avoiding -the roads, seeking hidden ways, where M. le Comte would not think to -follow. And always my guard was about me, until at last I came to see -that Roquefort was taking no chance of losing me--no chance of missing -his vengeance. The women were kept to the rear of the column; Fronsac I -seldom saw; d’Aurilly passed me by with a sneering smile that turned me -hot for murder. Well that I was young and strong, with a boy’s hopeful -heart, else had despair weighed me down! - -’Tis true, Drouet relaxed a little as we journeyed forward and -exchanged a word with me now and then, pointing out the features of -the country through which we rode or telling some little story of his -numberless campaigns with Roquefort. Gruesome stories they were, most -of them, of murder, outrage, robbery, for Roquefort’s men were not -troubled by nice consciences and took, without questioning, all that -came to their nets. Nor did their leader concern himself about them, so -they went willingly on his business and fought his battles for him. - -At noon of the third day we came to Marleon. - -“You were asking about the castle,” said Drouet suddenly. “Behold it.” - -I looked with all my eyes, but saw only the tumbled roofs of the little -town. - -“You look too low,” he said. “Higher, on the cliff behind the town.” - -Then I descried it, and my heart grew cold as I looked at it. Two -hundred feet or more the cliff sprang upward, straight as a house’s -wall and near as smooth--so smooth that no tree nor shrub caught -foothold on it. And just at the summit stood the castle, frowning down -upon the village like some tireless, merciless watch-dog. - -“But to get to it,” I ventured, after a moment. “It seems to have been -built only for the birds.” - -“You will see,” and Drouet laughed meaningly. “I advise you to look -well at the way, Monsieur; you may never have occasion to use it a -second time.” - -I rode on without replying. What good to bandy words with this -scoundrel? But as we drew nearer to the place my heart fell more and -more. It might defy the king’s army. - -The road turned abruptly to the right of the town, and then in again -behind a little spur of the mountain. Here the ascent began, and the -way at once became so narrow that two horses could not go abreast. On -either hand towered the crags, whence a dozen ambushed men might easily -pick off a thousand. In and out the path wound and ever upward, until, -at last, it stopped before a great gate, barred heavily with iron. I -saw how adroitly the path was fashioned, so that not more than two -men at a time could approach the gate. A horn sounded, our force was -evidently scrutinized with care from within, and then the gate creaked -back upon its hinges. In a moment we were in the court, and the word -was given to dismount. - -“Follow me, Monsieur,” said Drouet, without giving me a moment to look -about me or to exchange a glance with my friends. “We have an apartment -awaiting you.” - -I followed him silently, but my heart cleared somewhat when I saw him -begin to mount a narrow stair. I had feared that I was to be buried -in some dungeon underground,--anything were better than that,--to be -shut away from the pure air and bright sunshine! So it was even with -a certain cheerfulness that I went up the stair behind him. Up, up -we went steadily, until at last I saw we had reached the top. Drouet -paused before a little door secured by three bolts sunk deep into -the masonry. He threw them back slowly, one by one, that I might -contemplate their strength, then pulled the door open. - -“Enter,” he said, and I stooped and stepped within. - -He stood looking after me a moment, then swung the door shut, and -I heard him throwing the bolts into place with the same malicious -deliberation. Then all was still. - -I was in the topmost chamber of the tower looking towards the -east--over the town and out across the plain. It was a little room, -with walls of great stones there could be no removing, but there was a -small window, too narrow, indeed, to permit the passage of my body, and -barred with heavy iron, yet wide enough to admit a breath of fresh air -and a stream of sunshine. I went to it and stood looking far out across -the valley. The fields, the houses, the strip of woods along a little -river were cameoed by the bright sunshine and the clear, pure air of -the south. But my thoughts were heavy ones, and kept my eyes from -perceiving the full beauty of the scene. - -As I stood looking so, my eyes caught the movement of a body of men -along a road afar off. I watched them listlessly at first, thinking -them some mob of peasants en route to a market or merry-making, but -as they drew nearer I saw that they were mounted, and then the -sunlight was caught on glittering armor, on burnished hilts and -gleaming spear-points. It was a troop of men armed cap-à-pie--and my -heart leaped at the sudden thought that this might be M. le Comte -himself--too late by an hour! - -Breathlessly I watched them as they drew nearer--I could see that they -numbered some three hundred, that they were well mounted and well -accoutred. Some of the people of Marleon came out to look at them, and -then, after a glance, went hastily in again, closing the gates behind -them. I could see them running through the streets, and a noise of many -voices floated upward to me, confused and indistinct. Plainly there was -something about this troop of horse which caused the good people of the -town much uneasiness. - -The troop came on slowly and with a certain impressiveness. Just at -the city wall they stopped, and then there came mounting to my ears a -trumpet’s clear note of defiance. A pennant was thrown out upon the -breeze,--it hung a moment limp, then the wind caught its folds and -stretched it so that all might see--azure; on a bend or, a laurel-tree -sinople,--the arms of Cadillac! - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -THE DEN OF THE WOLF - - -HOW my heart leaped as I saw that blazon! And then, in an instant, it -fell again, for what could three hundred men,--yes, or three thousand -men,--be they brave as Bayard, hope to accomplish against this castle -in the air? Roquefort might sit on the battlement and laugh at them. -True, they might starve him out in the course of months, if their -patience could last so long, but ere that Roquefort would have had his -will of me and d’Aurilly of Mademoiselle Valérie. Had they been but an -hour earlier! - -So I watched them with gloomy face as they drew away from the walls and -pitched their camp a little distance down the valley, at the crest of -a small hill. Evening was at hand, and the shadows, deepening first at -the foot of the valley, stole silently up the hill-sides until all the -world below me was wrapped in darkness. Through my window I could see a -broad strip of sky, with a galaxy of stars twinkling brightly in it, -and I knew that the night was a fair, sweet, clear one. If only Claire -and I might wander through it with none but the stars for company! - -Soon the fires of the camp gleamed out, first one and then another, -and finally many of them. To right and left of the camp beacons were -lighted to guard against surprise, and I knew that M. le Comte was -preparing for any fortune. In the town too a light shone here and -there, and the murmur which floated up from the streets proved that the -town-people had not yet done with discussing the advent of this new -enemy. - -A noise at the door brought me from the window. I heard the bolts -thrown back, the door opened, and Drouet appeared on the threshold, -bearing a flickering lantern in one hand and a plate of bread and meat -and can of water in the other. These he set upon the floor, and with -a not unfriendly gesture motioned me to them. In faith, I was hungry -enough, and needed no second bidding! Drouet placed his lantern on the -floor and sat down opposite me. For a time he watched me in silence, as -though enjoying the sight of my hunger, but I knew that he could not -keep silence long, for I had already proved his love of gossip. - -“I dare say you saw that little show down yonder,” he remarked at last. -“Cadillac would better have remained at home. Here he can only starve. -He will find scant forage in these hills.” - -“You do not know M. le Comte,” I retorted with a confidence I confess I -did not feel. “He will smoke you out of this hole yet, and then ’twill -be time to say your prayers. Possibly you have already felt his hand -and so know its weight.” - -Drouet smiled somewhat ruefully. - -“Possibly,” he admitted; “yet if he venture to assault this place, he -nor his men will see Cadillac again.” - -At the bottom of my heart I believed him, but I held my smile. - -“Yet he has his points,” he continued after a moment. “He sent a -warning to M. le Duc just now, threatening I know not what if the -girl and you two youngsters were not surrendered unharmed forthwith. -You should have seen M. le Duc’s face! He sent back a warm message -too. ‘Tell your master,’ he said to the envoy, ‘I propose to change -Mademoiselle de Cadillac into Madame d’Aurilly. We will then make such -treaty as we see fit to prevent d’Aurilly wearying of his wife. This -spy from Marsan is going to bawl his life out on the rack. As for the -other, I have not yet decided.’ And the envoy went away to deliver this -pretty news. One can imagine how Cadillac will receive it! How those -two hate each other! France is not wide enough to hold them both.” - -“And when is this marriage to take place?” I asked, affecting to pass -over that portion of the message which concerned myself, though it -struck me to the heart. - -“Soon,” and Drouet winked. “You see, M. d’Aurilly is hungering to -possess this pretty piece of womanhood--it seems he is even in love -with her! To-morrow, perhaps, or next day. M. le Duc is a man who never -delays, and he has a priest here who is most obliging.” - -“The King,” I cried, “will have something to say to that! There are -rumors of strange plots which affect your master. He may go too far!” - -But Drouet only laughed. - -“Paris is a long way off,” he said, “and the King has much that -concerns him nearer home. Besides, this castle could set at naught -even a King’s army, should any be brought against it, which is most -unlikely. But in all this rush of events do not despair--you will not -be forgotten. M. le Duc himself will wish to see you ere long,” and he -chuckled to himself as he picked up his lantern and moved towards the -door. - -For an instant I burned to spring upon him, to pull him down, to kill -him with his own poniard. But there was doubtless a sentry in the -corridor, who could wing me with a single musket-shot--not yet--not -yet--and I let him pass. I must first find a plan--a plan. Come, what -were my wits for? - -I lay down on my pallet in one corner to think it over. But what a -problem! To escape from this stronghold in the air, with only one’s -bare hands to aid! It was too much for even a Marsan’s cunning! - -A musket-shot far down the hill brought me out of my thoughts and to -my feet. It was followed by another and another, and as I rushed to my -window I fancied I could hear a chorus of yells, as of men fighting -hand to hand. The cries rose and fell and died away--then a tremendous -explosion shook the earth. Far below me I saw a great spurt of flame -shoot upward, and I knew that M. le Comte was blowing in the gates of -Marleon. At least, he could make himself master of the town. There was -for a few moments a renewal of the fighting, and then all was still -again. - -I thought the attack over, and was just turning to rest when there came -another burst of firing from behind the hill--M. le Comte was trying to -force the castle! The firing waxed and waned and died away. I listened -in vain for any further outcry. Plainly, he had been repulsed, and -seeing how desperate the road was, had not ventured a second assault. -Would he ever venture it, I wondered! He loved his daughter, to be -sure, yet would it not be the purest folly to dash himself to pieces -against this rock in the attempt to rescue her? What could he hope -to accomplish? And whenever Roquefort scented danger, could he not -threaten reprisals on Mademoiselle herself? Better to draw off, to -leave Mademoiselle to such fate as Roquefort had prepared for her, and -wait another day, when, by some ruse or sudden ambuscade, Roquefort and -d’Aurilly might be made to pay drop for drop! - -Weighted with such bitter thoughts, I lay down again upon my pallet -and this time dropped asleep. Nor did I waken till some one shook me -roughly, and I opened my eyes to see Drouet standing above me and full -day peering in at the window. - -“God’s blood!” he cried, “but you sleep soundly! Here, get up and eat. -You will need your strength this day!” - -I got to my feet and looked at him. - -“And why?” I questioned, as carelessly as I could, for there was a -menace in his words that startled me. - -“Because you are to have a little interview with Mother Brodequin and -others of her family.” - -“Mother Brodequin?” I repeated. - -“Yes,” and he bent over towards one foot and made a gesture as of -tightening a screw. “You understand? ’Tis our pet name for her. She is -not lovely to look at, but she has a tight embrace.” - -I understood, and I found my craving for the food suddenly vanished. I -protest I am no coward--but the boot--the rack--I knew not what horrors -lay before me. ’Twas enough to chill the courage of any man. Still, I -made pretence of eating that Drouet might not see my terror. - -“I heard some shots last night,” I said at last. “Was there an attack?” - -“Hardly that,” he laughed. “Cadillac tried to crawl up the road, but -was soon glad to scuttle down again. He will not try it a second time -unless he is madder than I think him.” - -“But he gained the town,” I said. - -“The town, yes. But the town is nothing. M. le Duc never deigns to -assist in its defence; its walls are down in a dozen places. That was -no victory. He will never take the castle.” - -I quite agreed, but held my tongue. - -“M. le Duc holds the upper hand,” he added exultantly. “How he will -squeeze Cadillac dry ere he is done with him! But there, I must go. -Somehow when I am with you I run to gossip. But then you will talk so -little in this world!” - -“When is this interview to take place?” I asked. - -“Soon,” and he laughed. “There are certain preparations to be made, but -they will not take long,” and, still laughing, he was gone. - -I gazed about the cell helplessly. Was there no way out? Must I -fall victim to this monster of a Roquefort? To fall in fair fight, -in warm blood, in the open day, were nothing--a man could go to -death then gladly. But slowly, in a dark cellar, with others looking -on exulting--ugh! I felt my nerves quivering at the horror of the -thought--and then, with set teeth, I put the weakness from me. Other -men--yes, and women--had gone to the same fate with smiling lips--why -not I, a Marsan? - -So when Drouet opened the door again he found me looking from my -window down upon M. le Comte’s camp, and I flatter myself that he was -surprised at the calmness of my greeting. - -“You will follow me, Monsieur,” he said in a tone somewhat repressed. -Perhaps even he was beginning to pity me. - -“Willingly,” I answered, and after him I went, out into the hall, -where two sentries fell in behind me, down the stair, across a gloomy -interior court to a great stone tower standing somewhat detached, then -down another stair. I felt my head grow giddy as we left behind us the -good air and the bright sunshine--perhaps I was nevermore to see them, -or to see them only from a racked and crooked body. But again I caught -my manhood back to me and went on down the stair with a step tolerably -firm. - -A torch was blazing at the foot, lighting partially a dismal passage -which seemed to lead into the very bowels of the earth. Down this -Drouet turned, and paused, at last, before a door. - -“This is the place,” he said in a low tone. “Enter,” and he opened the -door and stood aside. - -I noted how thick it was, how heavy--plainly no cry, however shrill -and agonized, could pierce it. For an instant the thought came to me -to hurl myself upon my guards, to tear them by the throat until they -should be forced to kill me--that would be the easier way. Yet--oh, -heart of youth!--perhaps beyond the door there were not certain -death--there might yet be a chance--and life was sweet! - -So I stepped across the threshold and heard the door swing shut behind -me. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -THE QUESTION - - -TWO torches blazing from brackets in the wall at the farther end threw -fantastic shadows along the floor and up against the ceiling. For an -instant, as I looked at them, my eyes were dazzled, and then I saw -that on a platform below the lights sat Roquefort and by his side -d’Aurilly. A dozen men-at-arms stood guard, with something sinister and -threatening in their very immobility, and in the corner to one side I -caught a glimpse of an array of great, shapeless things, whose uses I -did not permit my thoughts to dwell upon. - -“This way, sirrah!” called Roquefort, and then sat silent until I stood -before him, the torchlight full upon my face. It was then I understood -why the torches were so placed--the face of the judge in shadow--the -face of the prisoner in full light. How many had stood so and felt -those eyes probing deep into their souls! For even from the shadow I -could catch the menacing gleam of those serpent’s eyes. - -“Well, M. de Marsan,” he began at last, “it seems that Cadillac could -not save you after all, despite your lying.” - -“Not yet, Monsieur,” I answered, still with some show of confidence. - -“Not yet!” he cried. “Body of God! Think you there is yet a chance? -Three shots, last night, drove him headlong back into the plain. Why, -Monsieur, he would be too late were he thundering at the gate this -instant!” - -I saw d’Aurilly leering down at me, all his malicious joy in his -hawk-face, and the sight fired my blood. - -“At least,” I said, “I shall die an honest man, and neither a spy, a -traitor, nor an abductor of women!” - -D’Aurilly started from his seat with an oath, and in an instant I -should have had my fingers at his throat, but that Roquefort held him -back. - -“No, no,” he laughed. “Restrain yourself, d’Aurilly. That were too -swift a way. One blow of a sword and it is over--but the rack is -different. I wonder at you, my friend!” - -“True!” muttered d’Aurilly, and sank back into his seat with livid -face. - -“I see you have not yet forgotten that blow of my hand across your -mouth, Monsieur,” I sneered, resolved to provoke him to the uttermost. -Pray Heaven I might yet get my hands on this devil and have a moment in -which to settle my account with him! Then almost could I die content. - -His hands were trembling on the arms of his chair, but he glared at me -without replying. - -“Ho, what is this tale, d’Aurilly?” questioned Roquefort. “Do you tell -me that this rascal struck you in the face and lives to boast of it? I -thought you a man of spirit!” - -“He lies!” cried d’Aurilly. “He lies! It was nothing.” - -I looked at him, smiling. Roquefort, I think, could guess where the -truth lay, but he passed it by. - -“Come, M. de Marsan,” he said more sternly, “we are wasting time, and I -have much to do this day. You will remember the reward I promised you -should you betray me at Cadillac,” and he made a little gesture towards -the horrors in the corner. “Well, the reward is ready; but since then -I have learned certain things which may perhaps alter matters. In the -first place, I learned from the Vicomte d’Aurilly that you carried to -your master at Montauban a message which told of my little expedition -against Cadillac. This message, it seems, was brought to you at Marsan -by some member of my household. In the second place, I learned from -Drouet, as you know, that some one in the night had come to your aid, -had cut the ropes which bound you to him, and that you were within an -ace of escaping.” - -He paused for a moment. I could guess what was coming. - -“D’Aurilly has been good enough to represent me in Cadillac’s -household, not caring, at first, to trust me to secure for him that -black-eyed Valérie, but preferring to rely on his own charms. Well, it -appears his charms had no great effect, so, in the end, he was glad to -come to me for aid,” and Roquefort looked at his companion with just a -spark of malice in his eyes. “It was not until he had managed to join -my troop in that brush at Cadillac that I learned the truth--that we -have a spy and traitor amongst us. I had suspected it before, when my -plans had come to naught, but proof was always lacking. Well, Monsieur, -I desire the name of that traitor.” - -On that point, at least, I could answer fully. - -“M. le Duc,” I said, “I do not know his name. I do not even know his -appearance. I know only that one night a man rode into Marsan carrying -a message which he gave to my father, who, in turn, entrusted it to -me. I saw the man but a moment; it was night, and his face was so well -concealed that I caught but a glimpse of it.” - -Roquefort was glaring down at me, his mouth working. - -“Doubtless the person who cut your bonds the other night was also -invisible!” he cried. “Or did you, by any chance, see his face, M. de -Marsan?” - -My blood leaped back into my heart. I looked into his eyes -horrified--seeing myself at the edge of a precipice. - -“Well, Monsieur,” said Roquefort after a moment, “I await an answer. -Come, your tongue is not so ready.” - -The sweat broke out across my forehead as I stood there looking at him. -I thought bitterly of the hopes that had sat on my saddle-bow as I rode -out from Montauban--it seemed hard that they should end like this. But -if Fate willed it--what then? Certainly, I had done my best. - -“M. le Duc,” I answered, with what calmness I could, “I have nothing -more to say.” - -His face turned purple and his eyes became two sparks of fire, -miniaturing the torches which blazed behind him, yet his voice was calm. - -“Remember my warning, Monsieur,” he said. “I am not a man who breaks -his word. Either you must be stretched yonder in a moment--or this spy. -I swear it! I have suffered too much from him to pass it by. There is -no other way--even your Gascon wits cannot devise one.” - -I looked from him to d’Aurilly and back again. There was no mercy in -either countenance--only d’Aurilly exulted openly. And the thought came -to me that I might yet save Mademoiselle from the fate that threatened -her and win for myself an easy death. There was no time to hesitate. - -Perhaps he saw me gather for the spring or read my thought in my eyes, -for he gave a little cry and started from his chair even as my foot was -on the first step of the platform. But I was on him before he could -get his poniard out--my fingers clutched at his throat with all the -frenzied eagerness of hate--and we crashed backward over the chair -together. - -I heard a confused shouting, a rush of many feet, but I saw only the -working face before me, with its staring eyes, its gaping mouth, with -the swollen, quivering tongue within. God! what a lust of blood was on -me as I gripped his throat and crushed it! I knew he was fumbling for -his dagger--I knew that in an instant a sword-thrust from behind would -end it--yet it seemed ages before they were upon me. - -“God’s blood! Pull him up!” yelled Roquefort, and they jerked me to my -feet; but d’Aurilly came with me too, for my fingers were set as death -itself would set them. - -I felt the others working at them, but my teeth were set--this man was -mine! They should not take him from me! But Roquefort himself strode up -at last, and ran a dagger-point under my fingers, prying them back and -cutting them cruelly. Only I did not then feel the hurt--my whole soul -was in the gaze I bent upon d’Aurilly as he lay huddled there before -me--if only he were dead! if only he were dead! Then might I go in -peace to my own death! - -“Bring Briquet!” called Roquefort, “and quick about it.” - -In a moment a figure entered from the dark corner. - -“Here is work for you,” said Roquefort, and pointed to the man on the -floor. - -The surgeon bent over him for a moment, felt his wrist, and looked into -his eyes. Then he stood up again. - -“There is work for the grave-digger, not for me, M. le Duc,” he said. -“You twisted the necklet a shade too tightly.” - -“Necklet!” repeated Roquefort, strangled by rage. “Body of God! It was -no necklet--’twas yonder scoundrel’s fingers!” - -Briquet turned and looked at me with a little air of curiosity. - -“They must be strong ones,” he observed, simply. - -But Roquefort’s rage had quite mastered him. - -“We shall see!” he yelled. “We shall test every muscle of him! Remain -here, Briquet--I want the end deferred as long as it may be! To the -rack with him!” - -I strained to hurl from me the scoundrels who held me to right and -left, but they were doubtless accustomed to the work, for they threw me -by some trick of wrestling, and, seizing me by arm, leg, thigh, and -body, bore me into the shadows of the farther corner. - -If ever man fought to save himself, I fought then, but I had no -chance--I saw it in a moment. First one arm, then the other, was -strapped down above my head, and in an instant I felt the straps drawn -tight about my ankles. I strained at them till I thought my heart would -burst, but they held quite firm. Then, with white fear at my throat, I -lay still and waited. I could do no more! - -They brought the torches and stuck them into brackets in the wall above -me, where they would illumine every line of my face. Roquefort took -his place at the foot, whence he could look down into my eyes. Briquet -stationed himself beside me and looked at me as one interested in a -new experiment. Plainly his heart had been hardened by a hundred such -spectacles. And yet, as I stared up at him, I fancied I saw in his eyes -a look of encouragement Where had I seen that face before? Somewhere, -surely! - -“Is all ready?” asked Roquefort. - -The men grunted an assent. - -He looked at me again, and read something in my eyes I would not have -had him see there. - -“I think we shall yet learn the name of the spy,” he sneered. “I think -we shall soon have this scoundrel’s soul bare before us! Turn the -wheel, men!” - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -ROQUEFORT’S PRICE - - -I HEARD the wheel creak round, and a sudden spasm of pain shot through -elbows, shoulders, and hips as the ropes tightened. I set my teeth -to stifle back the cry I knew the next turn must wring from me, and -glanced up at Roquefort leering down at me. Thank God, I had settled -accounts with that other devil! He, at least, was not there to gloat -over my agony! This one I must leave to M. le Comte. - -“Well, M. de Marsan,” he drawled, “are you yet ready to tell me the -name of the spy? Think well before you answer. Your present position is -not an easy one, perhaps, but it is a bed of roses compared to what it -will be when that wheel has been turned twice more.” - -I bit my lips to keep back the curses that rose to them. - -“Come, you are obdurate,” said Roquefort after a moment. “Briquet, -explain to him the effect of turning the wheel twice more.” - -“The first turn will dislocate the shoulders,” said Briquet in a tone -of professional indifference. “The second turn will dislocate the hips.” - -The voice!--where had I heard it? I stared up at him! I could have -sworn there was white hate in the look he bent upon his master. - -“And the third turn, Briquet?” urged Roquefort. - -“The third turn will render the dislocations permanent by tearing away -the gristle which binds bone to bone--ball to socket.” - -I felt my heart grow cold with terror. Had God a hell to fit such -devils? Yet other men had borne it--day after day they had borne it and -still smiled. Well, I would bear it too! - -“So you will not speak?” asked Roquefort reading my defiance in my -eyes. “As you will. Only, I warn you, you are playing the fool, M. de -Marsan,” and he turned to give the signal to the men at the wheel. - -But the signal was not given. Even as he turned, the outer door was -flung back and hurrying feet dashed into the chamber and across it -towards us. Every one stared, astounded, to see who this might be that -set at naught Roquefort’s orders. Not until they came full within -the circle of light from the torches could I see them--and how my -heart leaped, for I looked up into Claire’s eyes, and back of her saw -Brissac’s anxious face. - -“We are in time,” she said in a voice almost a whisper. “Thank God! -Loose that wheel, you scoundrels!” - -Mechanically, without thinking from whom the order came, they permitted -the wheel to spin back. What a blessed relief it was! - -Then she turned to Roquefort with blazing eyes. - -“You are a brute--a monster!” she cried. “Oh, I did well to think twice -before taking you for a husband!” - -I could not keep back the cry that burst to my lips. So that story -Fronsac had told me was true! But she merely glanced at me and turned -again to Roquefort, who was watching her with eyes inflamed by passion. - -“It was only by the merest chance I learned a moment since what devil’s -work was toward here,” she went on. “You will release him at once, -Monsieur.” - -But Roquefort only laughed. - -“My faith,” he said, “how beautiful you are once you get in a passion! -Come, Claire, you must be mine, after all! Only I can esteem you as you -deserve! I am not milk and water--I can meet fire with fire!” - -She looked at him with scornful eyes. - -“Are you going to continue in this coward’s work?” she asked. - -He saw the contempt in her look and it stung him. - -“Mademoiselle,” he said coldly, his face growing stern, “this is -something that is no concern of yours. This fellow knows of the -existence of one spy, and perhaps of two, in my household. I propose to -turn that wheel until their names are wrung from him.” - -“And this to the man who saved your honor!” she sneered. “Your -gratitude is truly princely, M. le Duc!” - -Roquefort stared at her, amazed. - -“My honor?” he repeated. “I do not understand, Mademoiselle. What is -this riddle?” - -She looked at her uncle over her shoulder, and something in her eyes -brought him forward. But his face was livid--plainly, he did not relish -this bearding of the lion. - -“Permit me to explain, M. le Duc,” he said. “You will remember that I -told you of the attack upon me at Montauban, which would inevitably -have secured from me certain papers but for the assistance which came -to me opportunely.” - -Roquefort nodded grimly. - -“I remember,” he said. “Go on.” - -“Well, M. le Duc, I did not tell you the name of our rescuer, not -thinking that it would interest you and not knowing at the time that he -was a prisoner. It was not until Claire came to me just now and told me -that I knew. Then I hastened here, that you also might know. M. le Duc, -the man who saved your papers lies there on the rack before you!” - -Roquefort stared at him a moment and then down on me. - -“This fellow!” he stammered, as though not believing his ears. “But he -is one of Cadillac’s men!” - -“He saved us,” said Brissac quickly, “not asking which side we -served--seeing only that we were in deadly peril.” - -“And that the girl was pretty,” added the other, glancing at her -keenly. “I can read the story--it is an old one among you Gascons.” - -“At any rate, he saved us, M. le Duc,” interrupted Brissac with a touch -of impatience. - -“Yes, he saved you, perhaps,” assented Roquefort, “but he refuses to -answer my questions. I am grateful for the one; the other I cannot -forgive. He must be made to answer.” - -I saw Brissac flush darkly and Claire grow pale. You may well conceive -with what intentness I stared up at this scene--with what agony of -earnestness I watched the face of each of the actors in it. - -“What are these questions, M. le Duc?” asked Brissac at last. - -“The first is--the name of the man who sent a message from here to -Marsan, which this fellow carried to Montauban. He says he did not see -the messenger--at least, not his face--and that he does not know his -name. But the other question cannot be evaded so easily. I want the -name of the person who, three nights since, cut the bonds which held -him to Drouet.” - -I saw the blood sweep in a wave from Claire’s face as she came slowly -forward. I understood what she was about to do, and implored her with -my eyes not to speak, but she did not even glance at me. - -“Do you mean, M. le Duc,” she asked, in a voice strained by emotion, -“that if you have the name of this person you will release M. de -Marsan?” - -Roquefort glanced at her, surprised by her emotion. - -“Perhaps,” he said. “I had sworn to have his life, but the story you -have told me counts in his favor.” - -“Then, M. le Duc,” she said firmly, “learn that I am the person. M. de -Marsan chose not to betray me, but I can betray myself.” - -I could feel the force with which Roquefort gripped the bottom of the -rack to steady himself under the blow. - -“You!” he cried. “You!” and he glared at her with bloodshot eyes. “Name -of God! But this is beyond endurance! You--Claire de Brissac, whom I -have honored with the offer of my hand--a traitor!” - -“Not a traitor, M. le Duc,” she protested proudly. “I sought merely to -save the life of a man who had saved my uncle’s. I am still seeking to -do so. Surely I have succeeded!” - -But Roquefort was looking down at me and did not answer. - -“Tell me, M. de Marsan,” he said at last, “is this pretty story -true--this story of the rescue?” - -“Quite true, M. le Duc.” - -“And did Cadillac know?” - -“He recognized me at once, Monsieur. So did Letourge. He was in bed----” - -“In bed?” queried Roquefort, surprised. - -“In bed--yes. It was he whom Mademoiselle struck across the face with a -white-hot iron. He will always wear the scar.” - -“And he did not hang you?” - -“He was about to, Monsieur. Only, in the end, he determined to prove -whether I or d’Aurilly were the traitor.” - -Roquefort looked across the room where the traitor’s body lay, a dark -heap on the platform. - -“Ah, yes, I had forgot,” he murmured. Then he turned to Claire. -“Mademoiselle,” he said, “since you answer yourself, I quite absolve -M. de Marsan, and out of gratitude for that exploit of his am ready to -release him.” - -I heard Claire breathe a sigh of relief as he paused; but I saw the -devil in his eyes. I knew that the end was not yet. - -“Unfortunately,” he went on, “there is another count against M. de -Marsan--a very grave count. Look yonder, on the platform, Mademoiselle; -do you see that thing lying there? An hour since, that was the Vicomte -d’Aurilly--now it is a mere heap of carrion. It was M. de Marsan who -sprang upon him and wrought the transformation, and M. de Marsan must -answer for it.” - -“A coward and a traitor, Monsieur,” breathed the girl, “not worthy a -second thought.” - -“A coward and a traitor, perhaps,” assented Roquefort; “but, -nevertheless, my guest and killed within my house.” - -I read the implacable purpose in his voice--so did the others, and I -saw Claire steadying herself against the wall. How I loved her! And I -devoured her sweet face with my eyes. It would be easy to go to death -with that image in my heart! - -She stood a moment so, looking down at me, her eyes dark with horror. -What eyes they were! And Roquefort was looking at her too, reading her -heart. - -“Kindly take Mademoiselle to her apartments, Brissac,” he said at last. -“She will not care to witness what is to follow.” - -So the moment had come! - -“Adieu, Mademoiselle,” I said as calmly as I could. “It is to be adieu -this time, it seems. You have done what you could to save me, and I -shall die quite happy, knowing that you care. Only,” I added, with a -smile I could not make wholly tearless, “it would have been good to -live, knowing it--for I love you, Mademoiselle. Pardon my saying it -here, before these others--but I must say it--I want you to think of me -always as loving you.” - -Her lips were trembling and her eyes bright with tears. God! To -live--life would be worth something now! - -“M. le Duc,” she asked at last, in a choking voice, “is there no price -which will prevent this murder?” - -He looked from her to me and back again. I saw hot desire leap to life -in his eyes as he gazed at her--her face, her arms, the poise of her -figure! - -“Only one, Mademoiselle,” he answered very quietly. - -“And what is that, Monsieur?” - -Again he looked at her, dwelling on her beauty, her girlishness, her -innocence. - -“That is yourself, Mademoiselle.” - -I started from the rack, but the straps held me back. - -“Mademoiselle,” I cried, hot with rage, “I forbid such a sacrifice--you -wife to this scoundrel! His worst with me must be less hideous than -that!” - -But Roquefort waved me to silence. - -“Understand, Mademoiselle,” he said quietly, “that I make you the offer -of my hand only out of courtesy, because I want you to come willingly -to my bed. I have a passion for you--I desire you--and I am going to -possess you! Heretofore, since your uncle was too weak to command you, -I have urged my suit discreetly. Hereafter I shall carry it with a high -hand. You are, self-confessed, a traitor to me, and I can do with you -as I please. I have the right over you of justice, high and low! Yet I -am generous--yet still do I offer you the title of Madame la Duchesse -de Roquefort, and your lover’s life besides. There are few women -who would need to be asked twice. Nor do I intend to ask you twice, -Mademoiselle. I am weary of your indifference. You will choose now -whether you will be my wife willingly, or----” - -His glance finished the sentence. She understood--so did -Brissac--white-livered coward, why did he not strike the scoundrel down -where he stood! I jerked at the straps in an agony of rage. His wife or -his mistress! A pretty choice! - -“But, M. le Duc,” began Brissac, in sickly protest. - -Roquefort turned slowly and looked at him, with eyes red with malignant -menace. Brissac stood silent, with twitching lips. Yes, he was a -coward, as Fronsac had said. - -Then Roquefort turned again to the girl. - -“I await your answer, Mademoiselle,” he said with a sinister calmness. - -She looked about for a moment helplessly, as though seeking some way of -escape. There was only one that I could see--and I cursed the straps -that held me helpless there! If only God would grant it me to kill this -monster! - -“Mademoiselle,” I began, “Claire!” and then stopped--what could I -advise? Yet the thought of her in that devil’s arms maddened me. - -She looked at me for an instant--at the hard bed on which I lay--at -the men ready at the wheel--then her eyes swept back to Roquefort. - -“M. le Duc,” she said quite calmly, “I accept. Only, I warn you, you -will get no loving wife.” - -He bowed to her with infinite politeness. The scoundrel was not without -his points. He could meet fire with fire, as he had said! - -“All that will come after,” he retorted, with an infernal smile. “I -assure you that you will find me a loving husband. As to your lover--I -will take care to protect myself from him!” - -He looked down at me, the smile still on his lips. - -“But the arrangements,” he continued after a moment. “I must acquaint -you with them, Mademoiselle. We were to have had a wedding to-morrow -morning, only, unfortunately, the bridegroom lies dead yonder. Well, we -will have the wedding, only it will be you and I who take the vows. You -agree?” - -Her face became more livid as she saw how near was her martyrdom, but -there was no relenting in his features. She nodded faintly. - -“Very well,” he said approvingly, “that is right, Mademoiselle. Make -the best of it. I am not such a monster as you seem to think. I am a -man, like any other, and have my generous moments. I hasten to order -the arrangements. As for Mademoiselle de Cadillac, I must select her -another husband from among my followers. Permit me to conduct you to -your room, Mademoiselle. As soon as we are safe outside, this fellow -will be released and taken back to his tower. Immediately after the -wedding he shall be returned to Cadillac unharmed. I swear it on my -honor. Does that satisfy you?” - -Again she nodded, and Roquefort paused for a moment to look down at me. - -“My faith, M. de Marsan,” he laughed, “you look as though you were -itching to treat me as you did d’Aurilly.” - -“God will yet give me the chance!” I answered, between my teeth. - -He laughed again and led the girl to the door, leaving me jerking -convulsively at my straps. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -A MESSAGE FROM WITHOUT - - -I LAY for some hours in my cell, dazed by this new misfortune, nursing -my aching muscles and smarting fingers. I had, it is true, saved -Mademoiselle Valérie from the most immediate danger which threatened -her, but only to hurl her into an abyss more frightful. For Roquefort -had said that he would soon select another man to wed her,--one of his -followers, no doubt; base-born, vulgar, low, more odious even than -d’Aurilly,--so that in the end she must fare worse than ever. For a -moment I found it in my heart to regret that I had killed d’Aurilly, -then the memory of his great villainies came back to me and the regret -passed. Earth were well rid of him! - -After a time Drouet brought my dinner, and inquired with pretended -solicitude about my injuries. I told him they were not worth speaking -of, though my fingers were very sore from the dagger-cut and my muscles -still ached abominably. He saw I was in no mood for talk and soon left -me to myself. - -I had no relish for the food, and went to the window in the faint hope -that I might see some promise of assault in M. le Comte’s camp below, -but the hope died as I looked down at it. The force was still there, -indeed, but the men were sprawled here and there in little groups and -the horses were grazing along the slope. He had not taken possession -of the town, preferring, doubtless, to levy upon the inhabitants for -supplies and leave them the possession of their houses. Besides, in the -town there was danger of surprise or betrayal. Yonder on the hill-top -there was none. - -But I could guess how M. le Comte was eating his heart out gazing at -this fortress on a cliff and wondering what had befallen his daughter. - -It is not an easy thing for a man who has ordered life ever as he -pleased to sit down quietly and accept defeat. Yet had he ten times the -men, success had been far off as ever. - -I was about to turn away when I heard a little rustling on the wall -outside the window, and saw that it was caused by a piece of paper -dangling at the end of a string. It was jerked vigorously back and -forth. In a second I understood. Some one on the parapet, just over -me, was trying to attract my attention. Plainly, the paper was for me. -I strained my arm through the window and at last managed to grasp it. -With fast-beating heart I drew it in and took it from the string, which -was jerked away as soon as I released it. Then I unfolded the paper and -read. The note ran: - - “Monsieur, I have learned of your demeanor at the question and am - grateful, for I am he who brought the warning to Marsan. While it - is true you do not know my name, I am sure, nevertheless, that you - might have pointed me out had you wished to do so. To-night I think - I can aid you, and also the others. At six o’clock Drouet will bring - you your supper. Detain him in talk until the guards are changed, - which will be perhaps ten minutes. Then put him for a moment off his - guard, seize his poniard, and kill him. This will require courage - and address, which I am certain you possess. There is a sentry in - the corridor, but you need not fear him, as I will see that he does - not trouble you. In the cell below yours M. de Fronsac is quartered. - Drouet will have the key to the door somewhere about him, since he - delivers M. de Fronsac’s supper before coming up to you. He will - doubtless have also the other keys to the tower. - - “At seven o’clock Mademoiselle de Cadillac will come out for her - usual evening walk upon the parapet, which she is permitted to take - alone. There is, however, a sentry at either end of the parapet. - These you will have to silence. - - “After she has joined you, descend at once to the bottom of the east - tower--the one in which you are. A flight of steps runs down into - the rock. Descend these. At the bottom you will find a small door, - heavily barred. You will see this opens on the face of the cliff, and - if you look attentively, you will discern little steps scratched in - the rock. By means of a rope to steady one’s self, these steps may - be descended. The rope is kept always lying by the door. The great - difficulty will be to get the door open. Only Roquefort himself - has the keys, and you will have to break it down. This will be no - easy task, but the sentry’s musket may prove of service. As the - watches are changed at six o’clock your escape will probably not be - discovered until midnight, so that you will have six hours in which - to work. Much may be accomplished in that time. If you succeed, - commend me to M. le Comte.” - -You can conceive with what joy I read this message, with its plan of -escape so admirably mapped out. At first glance it seemed quite easy, -but as I considered it various difficulties appeared. However, I am -not one who borrows trouble, and I put these doubts behind me. For, -after all, here was hope in place of black despair--hope--and then, of -a sudden, I saw that it was not hope at all--at least, not for me. We -might escape,--we three,--but what of Claire? Would I not be deserting -her to the mercy of this monster who knew no mercy? Well, we should -see. At the worst, I could seek out this devil, sword in hand, and cut -him down ere he could summon aid. I could see the others safely down -the cliff and then turn back upon my errand. That would mean death for -me also--but if there were no other way, it would at least save Claire -from the insult of his caresses. - -I read the message through a second time, and found myself -wondering--who was this traitor in Roquefort’s household? No ordinary -man, certainly, and one who kept his secret well. I knew so little -of Roquefort’s followers--and I had caught but a glimpse of the -messenger’s face. Well, M. le Comte would reward him. - -Those hours of waiting were the longest I have ever known. I was eager -to strike in the first flush of confidence,--that is ever my way, for I -grow timid, sometimes, on second thought,--but now I must worry through -three mortal hours. Worry through them I did, somehow--but it was with -quivering nerves I heard Drouet at last throw the bolts. As the door -opened, I caught a glimpse of the sentry in the corridor. Drouet set my -platter on the floor. - -“There’s your supper,” he said. - -“And the last that I shall eat here,” I added laughingly. “Will you not -be sorry to bid me adieu?” - -“Bid you adieu?” he asked. “How is that?” - -“I am to be released to-morrow morning,” I explained, “so soon as M. le -Duc and Mademoiselle de Brissac are married. He has given his word.” - -“So he is to have her at last, is he?” grinned Drouet. “Well, my faith, -he has waited long enough. Had I been he, I would have had her months -ago, and without troubling for a priest’s blessing. That is the safest -way, for he may weary of her--he may in time see some one younger, -fresher,” and he leered at me in a way that sent the blood to my face. - -“He has pursued her long, then?” I asked, with what indifference I -could muster. - -“Long! Since the day she came last spring from the Sacred Heart at -Toulouse, where the good sisters were caring for her. He had no sooner -set eyes on her than he was mad for her. At first we all thought we -should have a new Duchesse within a month, for M. le Duc is not the man -for a girl just out of a convent to resist; but some one whispered -into her ear the story of the first Duchesse, and perhaps some other -tales besides. What would not M. le Duc do to the tale-bearer could -he discover him! The first Duchesse is dead--dead,” and he laughed a -mocking laugh. “There was a story! She was found one morning at the -cliff-foot here, broken to pieces! She had flung herself over, perhaps. -There were those who said that M. le Duc had wearied of her, as he will -weary of this one--that the fall was not wholly an accident. However -that may have been, the girl refused to look at him after she had heard -the story. She was just from the convent, you see--her conscience was -yet warm. M. le Duc swore he would have her. Her indifference only -inflamed him the more. Really, before this, I thought he would use the -strong arm.” - -“But her uncle,” I questioned. “What of him?” - -“Brissac? Pouf!” and Drouet grimaced contemptuously. “A man of water -fit only for intrigue, where one talks in parables. He fears M. le Duc -as he fears the devil; and he also fears this girl, who has a will of -her own, despite her baby face. So he stepped discreetly to one side -and permitted them to fight it out. Well, M. le Duc will have his -hands full. I do not envy him. I prefer a wench whom I need not fear -will stab me while I sleep.” - -“Yes,” I assented. My hands were trembling as I realized that the -moment had arrived. I marked how his poniard hung--there would be -need of quickness, for he was a great, heavy fellow, much stronger, -doubtless, than I. - -“I must go,” he said at last. “I will drink your health at the wedding.” - -He got slowly to his feet and stepped towards the door. As he passed -me, I strained forward, plucked out his poniard and drove it deep into -his thigh. I might have struck higher, but at the last instant my heart -failed me. I saw his startled eyes staring down at me, then he fell -with a crash. - -“Help!” he yelled. “This way!” - -But I was upon him, the poniard at his throat. - -“Drouet,” I said between my teeth, “I spared you an instant since--I -might easily have killed you. I swear I will kill you yet if you utter -another sound.” - -He chuckled grimly as he looked towards the door. - -“Many thanks, M. de Marsan,” he said, “but I think I have already -uttered enough to spoil your game.” - -For an instant I found myself looking over my shoulder with anxious -eyes--then I remembered. - -“There is no one there, Drouet,” I said triumphantly, rejoiced that it -was my turn. “The sentry has been attended to.” - -“Attended to!” he muttered, and looked again towards the door and then -at me with distended eyes. “It is a plot, then!” - -“A plot--yes,” I nodded. “But to business. You will turn over on your -face, if you please.” - -He hesitated, and I compelled his obedience with a prod of the poniard. -He turned over slowly, with many groans. - -“Now cross your hands behind you.” - -The hands came back reluctantly. - -I snatched his belt from about his waist and in a moment had the hands -secure. I pulled on the belt until the blood seemed ready to burst from -his finger-tips, for I could take no chances. A strip from his leathern -jerkin served as a thong for his feet. I rolled him over. - -“You see how much easier it would be for me to kill you than to take -all this trouble,” I remarked. “But I am merciful--I am no butcher. -However, I wish to be quite safe, so I shall be compelled to gag you.” - -I tore another wide strip from his jerkin and stuffed his mouth full -of the straw that had formed my pallet. It was not over clean, but was -infinitely better than death. I bound the strip close over it and stood -for a moment looking down at him. - -“Ah,” I said, remembering suddenly my instructions, “you have some keys -somewhere about you. Let us see.” - -I knelt beside him, and in a moment had the keys--a great ring of them. -As I arose I saw that he was making a frightful effort to speak. - -“What is it,” I asked, “the wound?” - -He nodded violently. - -I knelt again and looked at it. It was bleeding slightly, but did not -seem of a serious nature. - -“I will fix that for you,” I said, and I bound a rag about it to stop -the bleeding. “Now you are all right.” - -I realized that I was spending too much time over Drouet, and I hurried -to the door and opened it. In the half-light I saw the sentry lying -against the wall. As I dragged him into the cell I shuddered to see -that his skull had been crushed by a single blow from behind. Evidently -my ally did not share my tender nerves. - -I placed him against the wall opposite Drouet, who stared at him with -distended eyes, plainly understanding nothing of the mystery of his -death. - -“That would have been your fate,” I said, “had any but I dealt with -you. I wish you a pleasant night, Monsieur,” and I left the cell, -bolting the door behind me. Certainly it would take Roquefort some -little time to get it open again and learn Drouet’s story. - -The corridor was very dark, but I groped my way to the spot where the -sentry had fallen, picked up his musket, and made my way down to the -floor below. There I found a torch burning, doubtless for the sentry’s -use. In a moment I was fumbling at the door of the cell there. Half a -dozen keys I tried, and at last the lock turned. I threw the door open -with feverish haste. Within, I saw a figure lying on a pallet in one -corner. - -“Fronsac!” I called. “Fronsac!” - -He sprang towards me with a cry of amazement. - -“Is it you, Marsan? We are going to escape then?” - -“We are going to try,” I answered, as I returned the warm pressure of -his hands. “Come, Monsieur, there is not a moment to lose.” - -“But Valérie?” he questioned, holding back. “I do not understand. What -of her?” - -“It is to her we go,” I said. “We will take her with us.” - -His face lighted with a sudden joy. - -“Ah, in that case,” and he motioned me forward. - -I did not wait a second bidding, for I knew that seven o’clock, the -hour of her promenade, could not be far distant. I thrust into his -hands the sentry’s musket, caught up the torch, and led the way down -the stair--two flights more there were, and then a door. I tried it. It -was locked. - -For a moment my heart sank. Then I bethought myself of Drouet’s keys. -I tried them, one after another--joy!--the bolt yielded! I opened the -door cautiously, for fear some one might be without. I could hear -Fronsac chafing on the step behind me, but this was no time for haste. -Evening had come in earnest and the court upon which the door opened -was so dark that I could perceive no one. I listened for a moment, but -heard no sound save a stave of a drinking-song shouted afar off. - -“Come,” I said, “it seems safe. And we have always a place of refuge in -this tower, an we reach it in time to bolt the door behind us.” - -“But Valérie,” whispered Fronsac, “where is she?” - -“I was told that at seven she would walk upon the parapet,” I answered, -and by a single impulse we raised our eyes to the heights above us. - -I confess I started at what I saw there--Mademoiselle Valérie, outlined -against the red sky of the sunset, poised like a bird about to fly, -gazing down at us. And at her side another figure--Roquefort. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -THE WHEEL TURNS - - -WITH quivering nerves I dragged Fronsac back into the shadow of the -wall. I was certain that Roquefort had seen us, but as the minutes -passed and he made no sign, I remembered that looking down into -darkness is a very different thing to looking up into light. So at last -I stood watching him without fear of discovery. - -He was talking to Mademoiselle Valérie with great earnestness, and -while I could see repulsion swaying her from him, there was some -wizardry in his words or manner that chained her to the spot. Her face -was turned away from him, but he spoke with accompaniment of look and -gesture as though she were returning his intent gaze. What was he -explaining?--some deviltry, no doubt! And I remembered that when he -left her side we must devise some way of getting to her. As I stood -there staring up at them a thought leaped to life in my brain that set -my nerves a-quiver--why could we not surprise him there at her side -and hurl him over the battlement? Then would Claire, too, be released -from danger. - -But how to gain the parapet? I saw that it ran along a structure that -stretched from the great east tower to a smaller one on the north. -Perhaps from the tower there was a door that opened upon it. - -But Fronsac of a sudden caught my arm. - -“Look!” he cried between his teeth. “God’s blood! Look!” - -I looked and saw Mademoiselle start from her companion in anger, stung -by his words; but he caught her arm almost fiercely, and drew her to -him. I could see the white face she turned to right and left. - -“I will end it,” said Fronsac, and stepped from the shadow, musket to -shoulder. - -But I sprang after him and pulled it down. - -“Not that!” I cried. “Not that! That would ruin everything! The -garrison would be upon us in a moment!” - -He looked at me with working face. - -“What then?” he asked. “Quick, Marsan, what then?” - -“We must surprise him,” I said. “We must gain the parapet. I too have -an account to settle with that scoundrel!” - -“But how?” he demanded. “Quick!” - -“The tower!” I cried. - -He hastened after me back to the door. I took care to lock it behind -us--at least, we would be secure against surprise from that direction. -Then we sped up the stair--up and up. At last, peering from one of the -narrow windows, I saw we were on a level with the parapet, but there -was no door--only the solid wall of stone. - -Fronsac was cursing softly to himself. - -“You should have let me end it down below!” he cried. “Now we shall be -too late!” - -“Come, there must be some way,” I muttered in perplexity. “Let us go -down a flight.” - -We retraced our steps, quivering with impatience. But a cry of joy -burst from Fronsac as we gained the lower floor. - -“There is a door!” he said. - -And, sure enough, there it was--a little door of oak, set firmly in the -masonry. I held the torch near it and examined it intently. - -“Well, we must pause here,” I said at last, “unless, by chance, Drouet -carried a key to this also. Let us see.” - -I ran rapidly through the bunch I had taken from him, trying one after -another, but not one would throw back the bolt. - -“Come, let us go down again,” cried Fronsac. “I have still the musket,” -and he started down the stair. - -I caught at the door and pulled at it savagely. It swung open in my -hand. - -Then I saw what fools we had been. Small wonder none of our keys would -throw the bolt, since it was already thrown! Roquefort must have passed -that way to gain the parapet. Then he must still be there! And my heart -was beating savagely as we stole through the door and up a short flight -of steps. In a moment I saw the stars above me and felt the fresh air -of the night upon my face. - -Darkness had come in earnest, and even here, high on the parapet, there -was only the dim light of the stars. I feared that at the first turn we -should run into a sentry, but we had no time to waste in hesitation. - -“Do not fire!” I cautioned Fronsac. “What we do must be done -silently,” and gripping my poniard--Drouet’s poniard--tightly, I -stepped out. For a moment I could see nothing, and then, away in front -of us, I caught a glimpse of two dim figures. - -Fronsac saw them in the same instant, and would have sprung forward but -that I held him back. - -“Softly,” I whispered. “Softly. We must surprise him, or he will outwit -us yet. Give him an instant’s warning, and he might hold us off till -aid arrived. We must take no chances.” - -“As you will,” he answered sullenly, and I saw he was hot to be at -Roquefort as was I. - -I crouched low into the shadow of the battlement, and, motioning -Fronsac to follow, stole slowly forward. As we drew near I saw that -Roquefort still held the girl by the arm. - -“You will listen to reason,” he was saying roughly. “Not to-morrow but -the next day shall you be wedded. I will provide the man--and while he -may not be a beauty, I am sure he will love you as you deserve. There -is no way out, Mademoiselle, I swear it. I am not like to permit such a -pretty bird to slip through my fingers.” - -She was looking at him now with defiant eyes. It was easy to see that -the spirit of M. le Comte lived in her also. - -“You are wasting words, Monsieur,” she said quite coldly. “I have -already told you my determination,” and she made a little gesture -towards the cliff. “A leap and it is over. Think you I should hesitate -when I knew that on the other side lay a life-time of infamy? You do -not know me, Monsieur!” - -Roquefort laughed harshly. - -“’Tis easy said, but not so easy done,” he retorted. “Death is not -pleasant when one looks it in the face. Besides, I shall take care of -you. I shall see that this pretty flesh be not wasted in such a way. -Some man must have it to wife first!” - -I heard a low cry of rage behind me, and Fronsac leaped past me and -upon this libertine. I saw Roquefort wheel sharp round at the sound of -footsteps, but Fronsac was upon him ere he could draw his sword. The -musket flashed in the air, but the other stepped lightly to one side -and the blow fell harmless. Then I was upon him too. - -Oh, but he was a man!--a match for both of us almost. I struck at his -throat to drown the cry I knew would come, but he caught my wrist and -held it in a grasp of iron. I felt him turning the point towards my -breast, and struck madly at his face; then Fronsac’s musket rose again, -there was a sickening blow, and his grip upon my wrist relaxed. For a -breath he stood staring wildly into my eyes, then slipped limply down -at my feet upon the parapet. - -“He is done!” panted Fronsac. “Curse him! He is done!” - -“Yes,” I said. “Yes,” and looked down at him. - -But my friend had turned towards the figure which stood sobbing softly -against the wall. - -“Valérie!” he called, and I saw her sway forward into his arms with a -little answering cry. No more I saw, for I turned my back, as I would -have others do when I meet my love after long absence and many perils. -Yet I could spare them but a moment. - -“We must go,” I said, and touched Fronsac gently on the arm. “Come, -Monsieur. For love you have a hundred to-morrows, but for escape only -to-night.” - -He swung around upon me, and I could see how his eyes were shining. - -“Marsan,” he said out of a full heart, “I want you to know -Mademoiselle de Cadillac--I must tell her how much we owe you.” - -I looked into her eyes and saw love and joy flaming there. Verily, it -was a good thing to have brought these two together! - -“Valérie,” he added, “it is Marsan here who has saved us--who has -devised this wonderful plan of escape----” - -“It was not I at all, Mademoiselle,” I protested, but she silenced me -with a little gesture. - -“There!” she cried, and it was wonderful to see how fatigue and fear -had slipped from her. “I quite know what to believe, M. le Marsan! Some -time, perhaps, we may find a way to repay you.” - -I bowed over the hand she gave me. Had I not known another, I might -have found it in my heart to envy Fronsac. - -“And I,” I said, “am happy in this chance to serve you. Besides, we -have not yet escaped--we are not yet at the end of the journey. It is -foolish to linger here. We must be going.” - -“True,” said the girl, and came suddenly back to earth. “Lead on, -Monsieur. We will follow.” - -As we turned, I heard a groan at my feet. - -“So he is not yet dead,” muttered Fronsac between his teeth, and -picked up his musket for another blow. “Well, we will finish it.” - -But I caught his arm and held it back. - -“No, no,” I protested. “Not that. He is not a man to kill here like a -dog. Let us find some other way?” - -“What other way can there be?” demanded my friend impatiently. - -“We must not leave him lying here for the sentries to stumble over,” I -said. “We must conceal him somewhere.” - -“Well?” and Fronsac made a gesture towards the battlement. “The cliff -will settle all that.” - -But again I shook my head. He was worthy a better fate. Besides, to -kill a wounded man---- - -“Let us take him with us down into the tower,” I said at last. “They -will not find him there, and we can still end it should there be need.” - -“As you will,” assented Fronsac shortly, and we caught him by leg and -shoulder and staggered towards the stair that led downward to the tower -door. As we stumbled forward I tried in vain to pierce the gloom before -us. - -“Softly,” I whispered. “There is a sentry at either end of the -parapet.” - -“Not to-night,” said Mademoiselle quickly. “I heard M. le Duc dismiss -them just before he came to me.” - -I breathed more freely. Certainly Roquefort would not wish to be -overheard, yet still this was an unexpected bit of fortune. - -Down the stair we tugged him and through the little door, which I -locked carefully behind us. We propped our burden in one corner with -his back against the wall. He was breathing deeply, with a hoarse, -guttural sound, which I felt certain was the death-rattle. There was -nothing we could do for him, and we went on down the tower stair, -bearing the torch with us. At the foot another narrower flight plunged -downward into the living rock of the cliff. I hastened down it, the -others following without question. Down and down it went--at what a -cost of labor must it have been constructed! At last I was stopped by a -little door set in the rock. A coil of rope lay before it. - -Fronsac gazed a moment at rope and door, then up into my eyes. - -“I begin to understand,” he said. “But can we open that door, my -friend?” - -“We must,” I answered. “There is no other way.” - -But I confess my heart fell as I examined it more closely, for it -seemed as strong as the cliff itself. A dozen bolts, seemingly, buried -in the very heart of the oak, held it to the rock. I could catch a -glimpse of them as I pressed my torch to the crevice between wood and -stone, and I could see how heavy they were. But to move them--to throw -them back. I tried all the keys on Drouet’s ring; not one of them would -serve. I battered at the door with the musket, but could not even shake -it. The sweat broke out across my forehead at the thought that this -might be the end. I looked up and saw Fronsac watching me with a face -from which he tried in vain to banish his concern. - -“We have still at least four hours,” I said, with what cheerfulness I -could muster, and turned back again to the door. - -Could I but cut the wood away I might yet throw back the bolts with the -end of my poniard. I hacked at it fiercely. It seemed hard as iron and -I could tear away but a splinter at a time. At the end of half an hour -I had made little progress. - -I paused a moment to take breath. - -“The watches are not changed till midnight,” I said, seeing Fronsac’s -despairing face and that of Mademoiselle. “We have near four hours yet, -my friend.” - -But as I turned again to the task, a sudden clatter reached us from the -hall above as of some one pounding on the tower door. I understood in -an instant, and was up the stair in three bounds. - -“This way, men!” shouted a hoarse voice. “This way! Rescue!” - -I sprang blindly forward, groped an instant in the darkness, and -dragged Roquefort back from the door, cursing my folly at leaving him -unbound. - -For from the court came an answering shout, a rush of feet, and the -wood groaned under a great blow. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -THE DOOR IN THE CLIFF - - -“BACK! Back!” I cried to Fronsac, who appeared at the stair-head, -bearing the torch, and I followed down close at his heels, dragging -Roquefort after me, cursing and striking at me madly with his fists, -but too weakened by his wound to do any great damage. In two strides we -were at the bottom. - -“Your scarf!” I called to Fronsac, and snatched it from him. “Now help -me here,” and we twisted Roquefort’s arms behind him like a baby’s and -lashed them tight together. Then I set him down on the lowest step,--a -horrible sight, the blood caked in his hair and about his face, -drivelling, cursing, half-conscious. I could guess what an effort it -had cost him to drag himself down the stair and give the alarm, and I -found myself beginning to admire him. - -I turned again to the door in an agony of despair. To be caught here -like rats in a trap, with success so near! But to penetrate this door! -I saw Fronsac draw Mademoiselle to him and hold her close against his -breast. They had abandoned hope, then! I looked at Roquefort with fiery -eyes, hating him suddenly with a white hate. - -“At least,” I said between my teeth, “you will be dead long ere they -reach us here. That shall be your reward for calling them. I swear -that, assassin!” - -He seemed to understand, and glared at me fiercely. - -“This way! Rescue!” he shouted hoarsely. His voice was drowned in this -cavern where we were, but as if in answer there came another great -crash upon the tower door above us. - -It seemed for a moment that Roquefort’s scoundrels must be tumbling -down the stair upon us. But the door held, and as I remembered how -strongly it was built, I knew it would be no little task to break it -through. The crash was repeated as we stood there listening--then -a third time. I fancied I could hear the door splitting under this -determined onslaught. Fronsac and Mademoiselle had forgotten all the -world except each other. He strained her to him and stood looking -down into her eyes, drinking in all the love they revealed to him -unquestioningly in this last, desperate moment, whose terror banished -coquetry. Had I Claire so, I too might have been content to die. Again -came the crash upon the door, and again my eyes sought Roquefort’s face. - -And then in an instant I remembered! What a fool I had been not to -think of it before! Pray Heaven it was not already too late! The keys! - -I sprang upon him, merciless as a wolf, and with savage hands tore his -doublet from his breast. He seemed to understand what I was after, and -spat at me like some mad thing and tried to throw me off, then sank -back exhausted, his lips white with froth. - -In a moment my fingers had found a chain about his neck. I dragged it -forth, and at the end were two keys. So the fox had kept always by -him a secret means of escape from his den should the other fail him! -I lifted the chain from his neck and the keys were mine. For a breath -my hands were trembling so I could scarce hold them, but I gripped my -manhood back to me and turned to the door. Were they the keys? They -must be! I fitted them to the holes--they slipped in easily--the bolts -flew back--the door opened. - -A stream of fresh air rushed in upon us, and I could see again the -sweet stars in the deep heaven. The cliff dropped sheer away beneath -us. I could see no semblance of foothold, no trace of the steps I had -thought were there; yet the descent must be made. I knotted one end of -the line tight to the heaviest bolt, then turned to the two who were -still lost in each other. - -“Come, Mademoiselle,” I said gently, “you must go first.” - -“Go!” cried Fronsac, waking as from a dream. “Go whither, Marsan?” - -I pointed to the open door--the rope. - -“And you have opened it?” he asked, amazed. “What witchcraft!” - -“We must hasten,” I said. “They are preparing some surprise for us -over our heads yonder. Come. We will knot one end of this rope so -that Mademoiselle can place her feet in it. Then, standing erect and -steadying herself by holding to the rope, we will lower her quite -safely to the ground.” - -I had made the loop even as I was speaking, and threw it a little over -the cliff edge. - -“Come, Mademoiselle,” I said again. - -But she drew back with a shuddering cry as she saw the abyss that -yawned before her. - -“Oh, no!” she cried. “Not that! That is too fearful! I can never do -that!” - -It was not a time for soft words. Our lives could not be sacrificed to -a woman’s nerves, and I steeled my heart. - -“Mademoiselle,” I said, “you are holding all our lives in your hand. In -a moment a crowd of ruffians will be through that door up yonder--then -it will be too late! No daughter of the Comte de Cadillac could be a -coward!” - -“Marsan!” cried Fronsac, “you go too far!” - -But the girl took her hands from before her face and stopped him with a -gesture. - -“No,” she said quite calmly, “M. de Marsan is right! I thank him for -his frankness. No daughter of the Comte de Cadillac could be a coward! -I am ready, Monsieur!” - -My heart warmed with admiration of her as she advanced quite steadily -to the cliff’s edge, sat down without shrinking, and adjusted her feet -within the loop. - -“That is good,” I said. “There is no danger whatever, Mademoiselle, so -long as you hold the rope firmly and keep your face to the rock. Come, -my friend.” - -I could see her shudder as we swung her out over the abyss, and I admit -that my own nerves were not wholly steady, but she held tightly to the -rope and in an instant was out of sight. Down and down we lowered her -slowly and carefully, I keeping an eye on Roquefort, meanwhile, to see -that he essayed no mischief. But he sat quite still on the step where -I had placed him, seemingly only half-conscious, and watched us with -bloodshot eyes. Yet I was certain that some catastrophe was hanging -over us. There had been an ominous silence for some moments at the -tower door, but I knew that his men would not abandon him so tamely. -What trick they were preparing I could not even guess, but at last the -weight lifted from the rope, and we knew that Mademoiselle, at least, -was safely down. - -“What next, my friend?” asked Fronsac. “What of him?” and he glanced at -Roquefort. “Has he not lived long enough?” - -I looked at him as he sat drivelling there. Yet I had thought never to -kill a man but in a fair fight. And on the instant a sudden inspiration -flashed into my brain. - -“I have it!” I cried. “We will lower him down the cliff! We will take -him prisoner to M. le Comte to deal with as he chooses! There would be -a vengeance for you!” - -I could see the dare-devil in Fronsac take fire at the words. In -a moment he had pulled up the rope, and we were knotting it under -Roquefort’s arms. He resisted vaguely, weakly, like a drunken man, but -we dragged him to the edge and pushed him over. He cried out hoarsely -as he fell, and I thought for a breath that his weight would drag us -over with him, but the rope caught in a crevice of the rock and gave -us time to brace ourselves. Then we lowered him rapidly, rasping and -scraping against the cliff, but there was no time to think of that. At -last the rope hung taut. - -“You next, my friend,” I said to Fronsac on the instant. He would have -protested, but I pushed him to the edge. “Hasten. Think who awaits you -below.” - -Without a word he let himself carefully over the edge. I could see the -rope quivering under the double weight, and noted with anxious eyes how -it chafed against the edge of the rock. The moments passed, and at last -I saw that he too was down. - -I stooped to test the rope where the rock had chafed it, when there -came a sudden hideous roar from overhead, a crash of splitting -timbers--they had fired a petard against the door--had blown it down--I -understood now the reason of their silence! - -There was no time to hesitate. I caught the rope and threw myself -over the cliff. My knees scraped against the rock, the rope burned -deep into my fingers, still smarting from the dagger-cut. But I held -fast, praying that they might not see the rope for yet a moment--yet a -moment--yet a moment! - -Some one tugged at it from above, then it suddenly gave way. I felt -myself falling--I grasped at the cliff--I seemed to choke--and the -world turned black about me. - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -ROQUEFORT EXACTS A PROMISE - - -I OPENED my eyes to find Fronsac bending over me. He had torn the -clothing from my breast and had one hand above my heart. - -“It still beats!” he said. “Thank God, it still beats! We must get him -to your father’s surgeon, Valérie.” - -To the surgeon! I had been hurt, then? And in an instant I -remembered--the rope had been cut--I had fallen. Was I dying? The -thought sent a shock through me. - -“Come, Fronsac,” I said. “What is it? How badly am I hurt?” - -He replied with a cry of joy. - -“Splendid! I feared that you were dead, my friend! Now let us see what -bones are broken. Can you move yourself?” - -For answer I sat upright, then got unsteadily to my feet. They looked -at me as at one risen from the dead. - -“But where is Roquefort?” I asked suddenly. “He has not escaped?” - -Fronsac pointed to a dark mass which lay just at the cliff-foot. - -“He is there,” he said. “He is far past escape. He was still bound to -the rope when it broke. You fell upon him, which may explain your good -fortune. But we thought you dead!” - -“The rope did not break,” I said, “it was cut. They blew down the door -with a charge of powder.” - -“But you are quite sure you have no bones broken?” asked Fronsac -anxiously. - -I stretched my arms and felt myself all over. - -“Quite sure,” I said at last. “Nothing worse than a few bruises. But -let us look at him.” - -We brought him out from the shadow of the cliff, unbound his hands, and -laid him on his back. Blood was oozing from nose and mouth, but his -heart still fluttered faintly. - -“We must get him to M. le Comte,” I said, “before he dies. Come,” and I -caught him by the shoulders. - -Fronsac took him by the legs, and we set off through the night, -Mademoiselle following. The moon was just clear of the horizon and the -night was warm and still. We had reached the ground just outside the -wall of Marleon, and we left the town to the right, proceeding straight -towards the hill where I had seen the camp. At the end of ten minutes I -caught the gleam of the camp-fires. But they seemed a long way off, and -more than once we were compelled to lay our heavy burden down and take -a moment’s rest. At last a sentry stopped us. - -“We must see M. le Comte at once,” I said. “This is his daughter. You -will see the need of haste.” - -He peered into our faces, his eyes large with astonishment. - -“I will take you to him, Monsieur,” he said, and set off through the -camp. - -We had not far to go. At the end of a moment I saw M. le Comte’s -standard floating above a tent before which blazed a great torch. At -the tent door a man was sitting, his head on his hand, the image of -despair. Mademoiselle saw him also, and, with a little cry, sprang to -him and threw her arms about his neck. He looked up with a great start. - -“Valérie, is it you?” he cried. “Here, safe in my arms. God! what a -miracle!” - -He strained her to him as she lay sobbing on his breast. Then he looked -up and saw us standing there. - -“Fronsac!” he cried. “Marsan! Why, this is a deliverance! And who have -you there?” he added, looking at our burden. - -“This is M. le Duc de Roquefort,” answered Fronsac. - -“Roquefort!” and M. le Comte was on his feet, the picture of -bewilderment. He put his daughter gently from him, came to us, and bent -over the unconscious man. “He is wounded?” he asked. “Bring him hither, -then,” and he held back the curtain of the tent. “Lay him there,” he -said, and we placed our burden on the couch. - -M. le Comte looked at us again--at his daughter--at Fronsac--at me--at -Roquefort, lying there with bloody lips. - -“It is a dream,” he said. “It is not to be believed--that two men -should break their way out of that castle yonder and bring Roquefort -with them. It is a dream!” - -But Mademoiselle had her arms again about his neck. - -“Is that a dream?” she cried, and kissed him full upon the lips. Then -she fell back with a little, frightened cry. “What is it?” she asked. -“What has happened? Your face!” - -He looked at her with terrible eyes, and then at me. - -“A wound,” he answered hoarsely. “But ’tis healing now.” - -Yes, it was healing. I could see the drawn, puckered, white edges. A -bandage hid the rest--but I could guess what it was like--what it would -be always like! And I had been the cause of it! - -I think he read my thought, for he held out his hand to me. - -“M. de Marsan,” he said quite gently, “you have proved it was not you -who were the traitor, but d’Aurilly. I have yet to deal with him.” - -“I have already dealt with him, M. le Comte,” and I smiled into his -eyes, with a great lightening of the heart that he had forgiven me. - -“Dealt with him?” - -“With these hands,” I answered. “It was he who planned the whole -affair. Roquefort had arranged for him to marry Mademoiselle. The -wedding was to take place to-morrow.” - -I could see Fronsac’s face turn purple. - -“The hound!” he said between his teeth. “The hound!” - -“I knew that he was dead,” said Mademoiselle. “Roquefort told me. But -I did not know, Monsieur, that it was to you I was indebted for this -deliverance. It is a great debt we owe you.” - -“It was nothing,” I protested. “It was a joy to my heart to pull him -down.” - -“Tell us,” said M. le Comte simply. - -So, as briefly as might be, I told them the story of what had happened -in the torture-chamber. - -At the end M. le Comte held out his hand to me again. - -“You are a man, M. de Marsan,” he said warmly. “I count myself -fortunate to have found a liege so gallant. I shall remember it.” - -“But he has not told you all, M. le Comte!” cried Fronsac. “It was -he who planned the escape--I was but a follower, a looker-on. I had -despaired a dozen times, but he always found a way. It was magnificent!” - -“No, no,” I protested again, and stopped. M. le Comte was looking at me -and laughing. - -“M. de Marsan,” he said, “I will spare your blushes. Only permit me -to say that I shall not soon forget the man who hath returned me my -daughter, whom I had despaired of rescuing--who hath delivered mine -enemy into my hands.” - -“But, indeed, M. le Comte,” I said earnestly, “it was not I conceived -the plan. I could have done nothing of myself,” and I told him the -story of the message. “This friend of yours in Roquefort’s household is -no ordinary man,” I added. - -“No, he is no ordinary man,” assented M. le Comte. “It is not often -one secures an agent at once so fearless and so full of resource. ’Tis -a strange story, but not mine to tell,” and he fell a moment silent. -“Still,” he continued warmly, “you will at least permit me to give you -credit with the execution. I have myself found many times that it is -easy to lay a plan. But often I have not succeeded so well in carrying -it out.” - -He turned to where Roquefort lay on the couch. I fancied that I could -already discern the death-damp on his brow. - -“He must have attention,” said M. le Comte, and, raising the curtain, -he despatched a sentry for his surgeon. The surgeon was soon there, and -bent over Roquefort with grave face. He wiped the blood from his lips, -raised his head, and examined with deft fingers the wound Fronsac’s -musket had inflicted, then, tearing away his clothing, put his ear -against his chest. He listened a moment so, then stood erect again. - -“’Tis as I feared, M. le Comte,” he said. “The wound in the head is -nothing--a glance blow that tore the scalp and produced a slight palsy; -but his chest is crushed; he bleeds within. I have seen men so who have -fallen beneath their horses, but I have never yet seen one get well -again.” - -“And how long will he live?” - -The surgeon shook his head. - -“An hour--a day--perhaps two days. One cannot tell. Let us try to bring -him back to consciousness.” - -He bathed face and temples with cold water and forced a glass of wine -between his teeth. The dying man groaned--coughed feebly--opened his -eyes and saw us. - -For a moment he lay without moving, his eyes travelling from face to -face. Then they rested on M. le Comte, and a bitter smile curved his -lips. - -“So--you have won!” he whispered. - -“Yes--I have won!” but there was more of pity than triumph in M. le -Comte’s voice. - -Roquefort’s eyes rested on him an instant in puzzled inquiry. He did -not understand this change of tone. Then his eyes travelled to the -surgeon’s face. - -“Am I done?” he asked. “Is this the end?” - -The surgeon bent his head. - -“Shall I summon a priest, M. le Duc?” he asked. - -Roquefort’s eyes grew bright with sudden resolution. “A priest? Yes! At -once!” - -But there was no fear of death in his face--he seemed elate, almost -joyful. I could not understand it. His countenance had taken on a -certain dignity it had before been stranger to--the lines of cruelty -and harshness were wiped away--he was almost handsome, and his eyes -were bright with purpose. - -He coughed again, and a spatter of blood came to his lips. The surgeon -wiped it away and gave him again of the wine to drink. We could see how -it brought warm life back to him. - -“M. le Comte,” he said, when he could speak again, “I have a favor to -ask of you. I am sure you can be a generous enemy--even to me, since I -am dying.” - -“Ask on, M. le Duc,” said the other, in a softened voice. “What is it?” - -“One of your men will take this ring,” and he pulled a signet from his -finger, “mount to the castle, and show it to the sentry at the outer -gate. He will open without question. Your messenger will ask for Mlle. -Claire de Brissac. He will tell her that I lie dying here and wish -to see her. She will come, I know. Will you do so much for me, M. le -Comte?” - -“Aye, and more,” came the answer readily, and M. le Comte stooped and -took the ring. “It shall be done. I give my word for it.” - -Roquefort’s eyes blazed up with joy; then he lay back wearily upon his -pillow. I felt a sudden fear spring to life in my heart. What could he -want of Claire? I looked up to find M. le Comte’s eyes upon me. - -“M. de Marsan,” he said, “are you too weary to perform this journey?” - -Weary? No! Not when the journey led to Claire! When I should be alone -with her, as I had dreamed, with only the stars for company and none to -interfere! - -“I shall be glad to go, M. le Comte,” I said, and took the ring. - -“There is need of haste,” he added, glancing at the figure on the bed. -“Do you wish a companion?” - -“A companion? No, Monsieur. They might fire if they saw two men -approaching. One they will not fear.” - -“True,” he assented. “Hasten, then; we will await you here.” - -I hurried out into the night, across the camp, and around the cliff -to the road that mounted to the castle gate. The moon was higher now, -and I could see the road stretching, a white ribbon, ahead of me. I -knew that others, looking down, could see me mounting, and as I went I -held my hands high above my head to prove my peaceful errand. So I was -permitted to pass without challenge until I stood before the great gate. - -“A message from M. le Duc de Roquefort!” I cried. - -There was a moment’s pause, then I heard the rattle of bolts and a -little postern opened. - -“Enter!” said a gruff voice. - -I stooped and stepped through. The gate was clanged shut behind me in -an instant. A mob of men-at-arms crowded threateningly about me. - -“M. le Duc is now in the camp of M. le Comte de Cadillac,” I began. -“He sent this ring by me to prove that I am his messenger. He desires -me to bring back to him the person of Mademoiselle Claire de Brissac.” - -There was a little stir in their ranks. - -“What doth it mean?” asked one at last. “What wants he of the girl?” - -“I do not know,” I answered, and I could not wholly keep the bitterness -from my voice. “He sent this ring that you might do his bidding without -question.” - -They nodded one to another, each placing his construction on the order. -Doubtless they were all familiar with their master’s passion for her, -and so could fashion their own conclusion. Some half dozen of them drew -to a corner and talked together a moment in low tones. At last they -came back to me. - -“You shall have the girl, Monsieur,” said one, “but you must leave us -the ring for warrant.” - -I handed it over readily enough, and watched him as he hastened across -the court and plunged into the dark doorway of the building beyond. The -minutes dragged like hours. Would she come? What would she think? - -A touch on the arm brought me out of my thoughts. I turned to find -myself looking into the face of Roquefort’s surgeon--the one who had -gazed down upon me on the rack. Again some fancied familiarity in his -features struck me, and his voice, when he spoke, made me fairly start, -so certain was I that I had heard it somewhere far from Marleon. - -“A word with you, M. de Marsan,” he said, and drew me deeper into the -shadow of the wall. “M. le Duc is injured, is he not?” - -I glanced around to see that none could hear. - -“These others must not know,” I began, “not yet.” - -“They shall not know.” - -There was something in his tone that drew my eyes to his face. I saw -that it was set as with great suffering. Could it be that he so loved -his master? - -“M. le Duc is injured,” I said, “very badly,--so badly, I fear, he will -not live.” - -“But he still lives?” he demanded eagerly. - -“Oh, yes, and will for a day--perhaps two days.” - -He breathed a great sigh of relief. - -“Thank you, M. de Marsan,” he said. “I think my place is with him. I -shall soon follow you.” - -He left me abruptly, and I stared after him until the darkness hid him. -There was some mystery in his manner I could not penetrate. But I did -not ponder it long, for two figures emerged from the doorway opposite -and I saw that one was Claire. - -She came straight to me. - -“What is it, M. de Marsan?” she asked. “What has happened?” - -“M. le Duc is injured,” I said, so low that the others could not hear. -“He is very badly injured--dying, perhaps--and wishes to see you.” - -“Dying!” she breathed, her face white with horror. “And he was so -strong--so full of life! Oh, then I will go! Let us hasten, Monsieur!” - -They threw back the postern and in a moment we were without--alone -together. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -MADAME LA DUCHESSE DE ROQUEFORT - - -WE went down the road together in silence. For a moment my heart -revolted at the warmth of Claire’s allusion to the man; then I -remembered that he was dying, and put the pettiness from me. I longed -to speak to her, to take her hand, but I knew that fifty pairs of -eyes were watching us from the battlements, and held my peace. But I -could look at her--at her great, dark eyes, her red lips, the curls -clustering about her neck, her lithe, active, perfect figure, promising -even greater charms as the years passed. - -She raised her eyes to mine and smiled tremulously at what she saw -there. - -“How far is this place to which we go, Monsieur?” she asked. - -“Not far,” I answered. “Would it were all eternity away!” - -She smiled again. - -“And you would wish to become a second Ahasuerus?” she asked, looking -at me archly. “To keep walking thus, on and on, for all eternity? -Surely not?” - -“With you!” I cried, all my love in my face. “With you!” - -She turned her eyes away. But as we passed a ledge of rock, where the -shadow lay deep upon the road, she stumbled. - -I know not how it was--I had thought only to catch her hand--but the -touch of her set my blood aflame--she was in my arms, close against -my breast. For an instant she looked up at me, startled; then, with a -sigh, she yielded to me and laid her head upon my heart. And I was far -past words--far past anything but the deep, tremulous joy of holding -her, of gazing down into her eyes. She gave me to drink deep of them. - -“How your heart beats!” she said at last, smiling up at me. “It is just -here, under my ear.” - -“For you, dear life! Every beat of it!” - -“And mine for you,” she said. “Every beat of it!” - -I looked up at the bright heavens--away at the distant hills. - -“What is it?” she asked. - -“That it should be true!” I said. “I have dreamed of it--longed for -it--but that it should be true!” - -“It has been true a long time,” she answered softly,--“a long time, -dearest Paul.” - -Her voice lingered on the name. It was the first that I had heard it -from her lips. - -“But not so long as I,” I protested. “I have loved you from the moment -I saw you in the Rue Gogard. And you?” - -She was smiling up at me with infinite tenderness. - -“I have thought of no other man since then,” she said. - -Again I looked out over the plain. This time the gleam of the -camp-fires caught my eyes, and with a start I remembered my errand. - -“Sweetheart,” I said, summoning all my courage, “we must go down. M. le -Comte awaits us. I pledged him I would hasten. M. le Roquefort may even -now be dead. He loves you, I think, but not as I!” - -“No, not as you!” - -She was looking up into my eyes, radiant with love and happiness. Never -was there other woman like her! - -Yet we lingered for a time, as our parents must have lingered at the -gate of Eden. But at last we reached the plain, and made our way to the -camp and to the tent of M. le Comte. - -They were awaiting us. Roquefort seemed much stronger. He was supported -on a pile of pillows, and but for the fever-glare in his eyes would not -have appeared ill. The eyes brightened as we entered and a vivid flush -sprang to either cheek. - -“Come hither, Claire!” he cried, and she went to him, glorious in her -loveliness. Even he seemed startled by it, and gazed at her a moment -without speaking. - -“I have come to the end of the path, Claire,” he said at last. “They -tell me I may live a day, perhaps--no longer. And before the end I -am going to ask you to keep a pledge you made me. See, I have kept -mine”--and he made a little gesture towards me--“so far as with me lay.” - -Not till then did I understand, and my heart grew cold at thought of it. - -“You know I have loved you, Claire,” he went on, looking up into her -eyes. “Nay, do not speak--do not protest! I have loved you! Had I -not--had I not hungered for your love in return--I should have made you -mine long ere this. But now, at the end, you must be mine! You have -already promised, Claire! You cannot break your promise to a dying man!” - -He paused--a cough choked him--and again there was blood upon his lips. -I trembled to hurl myself upon him--to drag her away--but what could I -say?--what plea could I offer? Oh, why did not she herself answer him? - -But she did not answer--she did not draw away, as I, who stood there -with starting eyes, watching her every movement, thought she must. She -only knelt with her face buried in the cushions, shaken by sobs. But -pity could go too far! - -“You cannot deny a dying man, Claire,” he repeated in a fainter voice, -and I saw how little his strength was. “It means more to me than you -can guess. I am dying without issue--without heir. I want Roquefort to -be yours, Claire--every stone of the castle, every rood of the land. It -must not go to that scoundrel in Valladolid.” - -I remembered Fronsac’s story of his hate for his next of kin, and -ceased to wonder at him. But she--she--why did not she put him from -her? I know the price would tempt most women, yet I had not thought it -would tempt her. But a moment since she had told me--there!--why recall -it? For now she stood suddenly upright and looked down into his eyes -quite calmly. - -“If you really wish it, M. le Duc,” she said. “If you think it will -make you happier, I am ready!” - -He lifted her hand to his lips--he forgot that he was looking in the -face of death. Oh, I could have slain him--could have slain them both! -What a fool was I to trust a woman’s word! And what a fool would I yet -be should I betray myself! - -But I had need for all my self-control. They brought in the priest, and -Roquefort, in two words, gained his consent. They hastened after stole -and surplice; Claire knelt at the bedside, her hand in his--a great -silence fell upon the tent. And then the voice of the priest began the -service, shortened somewhat to fit this strange occasion. My heart -stood still as he came to the responses--I hoped madly that Claire -might yet refuse, but her voice was the stronger of the two. - -They pressed forward to kiss the hand of Madame la Duchesse de -Roquefort,--mistress of a demesne second only to that of M. le Comte -himself,--but I did not stay to witness it. Sick at heart--cursing -woman’s baseness--I went blindly forth into the night. - - - - -CHAPTER XVII - -A TEN YEARS’ VENGEANCE - - -I OPENED my eyes to find Fronsac looking down at me. For an instant I -thought myself still at the cliff-foot, but a glance told me I was in -bed, in a room that, till then, I had never seen. - -“You know me!” he cried. “You know me! Tell me, Marsan, you know me!” - -“Of course I know you, Fronsac,” I answered petulantly, and stopped, -astonished at the effort the words cost me. “I have been ill!” I cried. - -“Very ill,” he said, “but you are past danger now, thank God! There, -think no more about it--you must sleep.” - -He had no need to command me, for my brain seemed so numb it could not -think. I remember perhaps a dozen such intervals of dim consciousness. -Always there was Fronsac bending over me, and sometimes I fancied there -was another in the room, who whisked away at the first sign of my -awakening. - -A third face too there was. At first I did not know it, but stared -stupidly up at it--and then, at last, I recognized Briquet, the surgeon -of M. le Duc. For a moment my blood ran cold to see him standing so, -for I thought myself again upon the rack. But a second glance dispelled -my terror. His face had changed. Stern it still was, but no longer -lined by hate, and the eyes were almost gentle. How different from -the coals of fire that had glared at Roquefort! I was too weary to -seek the clue to the change, which I marvelled at without in the least -understanding. - -But one morning it was different. I awoke strong, refreshed, my mind -quite clear. It was like the dawn breaking over the hill-top, sweeping -the valley clear of mist. - -Fronsac brought me meat and drink, which I welcomed eagerly, for I -was tortured with a great hunger. And as I ate I remembered it all -again--the escape, the journey to the castle, the scene in the tent, -with the priest’s voice droning the service. Even yet I could not -understand it--that a woman should break her word like that--and she -had loved me--yes, I was quite sure that she had loved me. But of -a sudden there had been dangled before her face the coronet of a -duchesse--the wide lands and lofty castle of Roquefort--and she had -seized the bait. Yet it had been offered her before and she had shrunk -away. From month to month she had refused it, only to grasp it at this -last desperate moment. I could not understand. Perhaps she had been -merely playing with him; perhaps it was the sight of him lying helpless -there that had moved her. - -In any event, there was but one course for me. I must put her out of my -heart. She was now on the mountain-top, I in the valley; she was Madame -la Duchesse de Roquefort, I but Paul de Marsan, with no fortune but -what my sword might win me. At the end I turned to Fronsac. - -“Now, my friend,” I said, pushing the food away, “you must tell me -everything--everything that has happened since that night.” - -“Are you strong enough?” he questioned, hesitating. - -“Strong enough?” and I laughed, for the wine had put new life into me. -“I shall be out of bed to-morrow. By the way, where am I?” - -“You are in a room of the castle of Madame la Duchesse de Roquefort.” - -He saw the flush that leaped to my face and smiled. - -“Does that surprise you? The morning after the wedding you were found -roaming about the walls quite mad. The exertion of the night before -had been too much for you, it seems, and your hands were in a horrible -state. We, who were thinking only of ourselves, did not think of you. -You should have heard Valérie! Well, Madame la Duchesse insisted that -you be brought straight here, and here you have since remained.” - -“And you with me,” I added gratefully. “It must have been a trying -task. I can imagine your self-denial, my friend.” - -“Nonsense!” he interrupted hastily. “It were little to do for the man -who saved my life--and more. Besides, it was not only I.” - -I looked at him with questioning eyes. - -“Briquet,” he said, “did more than I. He seems to have a great interest -in you. He is a strange man.” - -I pondered over this for a time. - -“I do not know,” I said at last. “I fancy sometimes that we have met -before, and yet I cannot be certain.” - -“But I have other news,” and Fronsac looked at me, his face crimson -with happiness. “About Valérie and myself.” - -I understood, and held out my hand to him. - -“Yes,” he said, “M. le Comte has given his consent. We shall be married -so soon as I can take you with me to Cadillac.” - -I pressed his hand with sincere warmth. - -“Then, indeed, I must hasten to get well!” I cried. “To think that I -should be keeping you apart!” - -“You have not kept us apart,” he protested. “It was you brought us -together. Valérie warned me not to approach her until I could bring -you with me. I swear I am almost jealous of you, Marsan! The troop -has heard the story of the escape--you will see how they will welcome -you! M. le Comte himself remained until he was certain you were out of -danger. You have quite won his heart, my friend!” - -I felt my lips trembling. - -“And after that scar!” I murmured. - -“Yes, after the scar! Think, I have even seen him kissing the hand that -inflicted it--for he has taken Madame la Duchesse to his heart also. -Well, I am glad, for she has need of a protector.” - -He read in my eyes the question which I dared not ask. - -“Roquefort died an hour after the wedding,” he said. “Do you know, -Marsan, I fancy we never did him justice. He had his merits. He proved -a man at the last!” - -Yes, he proved a man at the last! It is a man’s part to win--and he had -won! - -“He died alone,” continued Fronsac, “alone, but for his surgeon. -Briquet came to the tent almost before the wedding was concluded, and -insisted on remaining at his master’s side. Madame la Duchesse thought -her place, also, was there. Roquefort had dropped asleep, worn out by -the excitement of the evening, and it seemed certain that he would -sleep till morning. A couch was brought for her, and she lay down, -leaving Briquet to watch the sleeper. Scarcely had she closed her eyes, -when a loud cry startled her awake. Roquefort was sitting upright -in the bed, the blood pouring from his mouth, staring in terror at -Briquet, who was calmly wiping it away. Death caught him with that look -still on his face--it was not good to see. There were some whispers -that Briquet had interfered, but M. le Comte shut them off. He seemed -to understand. - -“So I fancy there is an end to the feud between Cadillac and -Roquefort,” he added, smiling. “The cousin from Valladolid has been -sent about his business, swearing great oaths. Madame la Duchesse has -already set about readjusting the rentals and rebuilding her peasants’ -huts. They idolize her! There is a woman! What a duchesse she makes!” - -I could picture her to myself--she were worthy to mate with a prince, a -king--to give a nation its rulers! - -“You are weary,” he said, seeing that I did not reply. “I have been -running on without a thought of your condition! What a nurse I am! -There, you must sleep,” and without heeding my protests he gathered up -the dishes and left the room, closing the door behind him. - -But I could not sleep. My brain was full of what he had told me. I saw -Madame la Duchesse de Roquefort moving like a queen among her vassals. -There existed no longer Claire, the sweet, simple, ingenuous girl I had -known, new to the world, fresh from the convent--there was now only the -great lady. M. le Comte himself, great as he was, had been proud to -bend his head and kiss her hand. Who was great enough, strong enough, -bold enough, to aspire to her lips? Well, I would still love the -girl--I would hold her locked in my heart--the great lady might go her -way. And I thought of her as she had been on that last night of all--I -felt again her warm, sweet body in my arms--I gazed again into her eyes -and saw love there--I heard again her voice--“And mine for you! Every -beat of it!” God! And a moment later she had fallen! - -It was long before I slept, but tired nature asserted herself at last, -and it was not until another morning dawned that she lifted her weights -from off my eyes. This time it was Briquet I found at my bedside, and I -noted again how his face had softened and grown human. He smiled as he -saw my eyes on his. - -“You are better,” he said. “It is easy to see that. You will soon be -quite well.” - -Again the voice--where had I heard it? I must penetrate this mystery. - -“M. Briquet,” I began, “my friend has told me how deeply I am indebted -to your care, and I wish to thank you. But have we not met before?” - -“I should not think you would forget it,” he answered readily. “I was -called to attend d’Aurilly--and you.” - -“Yes--I know,” I said impatiently. “But before that?” - -He hesitated a moment, then drew from his pocket a small book, tore out -a strip of paper, and wrote upon it a rapid sentence. - -“I am quite willing that you should know,” he said. “In fact, I -believed that you already knew,” and he held the paper before my eyes. - -“Monsieur,” I read, “I have learned of your demeanor at the question, -and am grateful, for I am he who brought the warning to Marsan.” - -There could be no mistaking the handwriting, and I looked at him amazed. - -“It was you, then,” I stammered,--“you.” - -“Yes, I. Looking up at me from the rack, I thought you knew me.” - -“No,” I said, still looking at him wonderingly. “I could not place you. -I did not suspect----” - -“That I could be a spy, a traitor?” and he laughed, with some of the -old look back upon his face. “Let me tell you the story, Monsieur; -perhaps you will no longer wonder. My father lived at Lembeye, and -managed to save some money. He determined that I should have a career, -and so sent me to Paris to become a student of medicine. That was ten -years ago, and I came back to my home to find it desecrated. M. le Duc -de Roquefort had ridden through the town at the head of his ruffians. -As he passed our gate, he saw my sister standing there, a pretty girl -of seventeen, fresh as the dawn, with brown eyes that were always -laughing. Without checking his horse, he leaned down and swung her to -the saddle before him.” - -He paused and passed his hand before his eyes, as though to blot out a -vision. - -“It was done in an instant,” he went on at last. “My father could do -nothing. He could only stand and watch her carried away, screaming, -struggling, with those other devils looking on and laughing. It was -then that I came home. I had been away for four years. No one knew -me. I buried my old self and started to find my sister. I found her -here at Marleon, Monsieur; you can guess in what condition! The child -killed her,--she was happy to die,--and I buried them together. There -was nothing left but my vengeance. I thought at first to kill him--but -that was so poor a way! I gained entrance to his household, first as -a man-at-arms, then as his physician. I won his confidence, only to -betray it; he told me his plans and had them come to naught. Cadillac -at first refused to trust me, but I told him my story, and I have -served him well,--how well you will never guess, Monsieur, nor in -how many ways I tortured this monster--but for me, he would have had -Mademoiselle de Brissac long ago. And at the end I told him--he died -looking at me.” - -He stopped. I could find nothing to say. I gazed at him, fascinated. - -“Now it is over,” he said. “Now there will be room in my life for other -things than hate. I shall go back to Paris. I have waited here only to -see you out of danger, M. de Marsan. You are out of danger now,” and he -held out his hand. “Adieu.” - -I took his hand in mine and pressed it. I could find no blame for him -in my heart. - -“Adieu, Monsieur,” I said, “and again thanks for your kindness.” - -“I mean to devote my life to it,” he said simply, “so much of my life -as is left to me,” and he was gone almost before the words were spoken. - -I lay for long looking at the door, pondering on his story. What a -vengeance! To play traitor to a man for long years--to seem his friend -and yet to hate him--and then, at the end, to lay the treachery bare -before him! I understood now, as M. le Comte had done, that look of -terror in Roquefort’s eyes, and found it in my heart to pity him. - - - - -CHAPTER XVIII - -LIGHT - - -THE day passed without further incident. I took a turn about the room -on Fronsac’s arm and found that my strength was fast returning. I -ate the food that he brought me, and lay staring at the ceiling till -drowsiness overtook me. Yet, despite myself, I was not content. More -than once I caught myself listening for I know not what--a light step -in the corridor, the rustle of a dress, the sound of a voice--expecting -the door to open and show Claire there. What a fool I was! What time -had she for me? She was busy with the affairs of her duchy--a great -lady! - -Night came at last, and darkness, bringing sleep with it. Dawn found -me strong, refreshed. I arose and walked about the room, and though my -legs still trembled somewhat, I was certain that, once on horseback, I -should be quite myself. I was determined to leave Marleon as soon as -might be--a horror of the place possessed me. - -Fronsac found me dressed, and I lost no time in announcing my wish to -set out with him for Cadillac. - -“But you are not strong enough,” he urged. “Let us wait. There is no -cause for haste.” - -“If Mademoiselle Valérie heard you say that!” I laughed. “I can see her -awaiting you in that arbor by the river’s edge.” - -“So it is for my sake!” he said. - -“No, it is not for your sake, my friend,” I answered earnestly. “At -least, not wholly. I am itching to leave this place. There is no quiet -for me here.” - -He looked at me for a moment questioningly, but I did not meet his -eyes. My secret must remain my own. - -“Very well,” he said quietly at last, “since you wish it, we will set -out to-day. I will inform Madame la Duchesse. You will doubtless wish -to thank her for her kindness.” - -“Yes,” I assented thickly. “Yes.” - -It would try my strength to set eyes on her again--to speak to her. But -I was a man, thank God! I could hide my heart! - -Yet when at last we stood before her, I forgot my injured pride in the -joy of seeing her--the calm brow, the dark eyes, the arching mouth, -the white hand, and the swell of the arm lost in the lace above. What -a woman! No longer the girl fresh from the convent--the fine lady! A -duchesse--a queen! - -“And so you are leaving us, M. de Marsan?” she asked at last. - -Her voice brought me back to myself--she on the hill-top, I in the -valley. - -“Yes, I am leaving, Madame,” I said. “I am quite well again, and my -friend here is hungering for Cadillac and those that await him there.” - -Her face changed, and she sat gazing at me in silence for a moment. -There was that in her eyes--but there!--why be, a second time, a fool? - -“You do not seem well,” she said. “Nor strong. Are you quite sure you -can bear the journey?” - -“Quite sure, Madame.” - -She made a little gesture of impatience. - -“I have to thank you, Madame,” I added, “for your kindness in receiving -me here. It was very foolish of me to be ill.” - -“Very foolish,” she agreed, looking at me again. “Very foolish. I do -not think you realize how foolish. I had thought you a man of wit, M. -de Marsan, but I find you very dense!” - -I flushed at the words, but dared not look at her. I must go, or I -should be upon my knees before her, a beggar for her slightest favor. I -glanced at Fronsac, who stood with folded arms, frowning deeply. - -“Adieu, then, Madame,” I said. - -She held out her hand to me. I knelt and kissed it, not daring to look -up into her face; remembering, with a great rush of tenderness, the -times I had already kissed it. I was aflame to snatch her to me, to -assert my claim to her, to kiss her arms, her neck, her lips, to ask -her if she had forgot that scene in the moonlight---- - -“M. de Fronsac,” she was saying, “listen--I have a little story I wish -you to hear. You, M. de Marsan, remain where you are. There was once a -girl taken suddenly from a convent, where she had spent her whole life, -and planted in the midst of a turbulent court. The ruler of the court -looked on her with lustful eyes, yet had the honor to offer her his -title. But she heard strange tales of him which frightened her, and at -last she saw another, nearer her own age, who seemed to her the very -rose of gallantry and courage. So she put away from her all thought -of the other, and at last--one night--her lover claimed her. But the -other lay dying. He was lord of wide lands and of a proud title. These, -he said, he wanted her to have, even at this last moment, when their -marriage must be one unconsummated. And as she knelt beside his bed, -listening to him in patience, for she remembered he was dying, of a -sudden the thought came to her--why not take these things for her -lover? Oh, it would be a joy to give him place and power--more than her -mere self! Why not give him these as well?” - -She paused for a moment--her voice was trembling so. I could not look -up--I dared not, lest my eyes be blinded. - -“You will pardon me, M. de Fronsac, if I tell the story very badly,” -she said, with a little, unsteady laugh. “But it moves me greatly, for -her lover did not understand. He fancied she desired place and wealth -for herself, when it was alone for him. He did not comprehend the -greatness of her love. He was stricken with fever--and as, night after -night, she listened to him in his delirium, she knew that it was her -fault--that she had driven him mad--and her heart grew cold with fear -that he might not get well. But he did get well--he came to her to say -good-by--he closed his eyes to all she had intended, to all she let him -see. He wrapped himself about with his pride, which he fancied had been -injured, and would not look at her. What think you of such a man, M. de -Fronsac?” - -“I think him a fool!” said Fronsac savagely. - -But I did not heed him. I was looking up, up into her eyes. And I read -there the same story they had told me once before. There could be no -mistaking! - -“Claire!” I cried,--“Claire!” - -And she, in her great love and strength, stooped and raised me to the -seat beside her. - - -THE END - - - - -A CHILD OF THE NIGHT - - - - -Copyright, 1901, by Burton E. Stevenson - - - - -CHAPTER I - -AN ENCOUNTER IN THE STREETS - - -IT was as I turned the corner into the Rue de l’Evêque that a woman -ran straight into my arms. I could hear her gasping for breath, and a -glance told me that she was young and pretty. She clutched nervously at -my sleeve, and, not unwillingly, I put my arm about her to prevent her -falling. - -“What is it, Mademoiselle?” I questioned. - -She seemed too agitated and exhausted to reply, but pointed down the -street, where, through the gloom, I saw a man running towards us. - -“He is following you?” I asked. - -She nodded. - -“And you wish to be relieved of him?” - -Again she nodded. - -“Very well, Mademoiselle,” I said, “do you remain here, and I will say -two words to this intruder.” - -I placed her in the shadow of the wall, and drawing my sword, advanced -to meet her pursuer. I had not far to go, for he was almost upon us. He -attempted to pass me, but stopped when he saw my point at his breast. - -“Not so fast, Monsieur,” I said. “It would be well to pause here for a -moment. You are quite out of breath and further exertion might easily -bring on an apoplexy.” - -He stared at me in amazement, his face purple, his eyes starting from -his head. I saw by his attire that he was a bourgeois of the better -class. He was very fat, which accounted for the fact that the girl had -outstripped him, and was perhaps sixty years of age. I looked him in -the eyes with a smile, and the thought came to me that those were not -the eyes of an honest man. - -“And who the devil are you?” he cried, when he had recovered his breath -sufficiently to speak. - -“My name is of no moment, Monsieur,” I answered. “It is enough that I -do not wish you to pass, but to return by the way you came.” - -He stared at me for a moment, his amazement visibly increasing. I -merely smiled the more, for the situation amused me greatly. - -“If this is a jest,” he said, at last, holding in his anger, “it is a -sorry one and one that will cost you dear.” - -“It is no jest,” I declared. “On the contrary, I was never more in -earnest. The way is barred for the present. Return, I beg of you, or I -shall be obliged to enforce my request, though I am far from wishing to -harm you,” and I made a significant gesture with my sword. - -“So you are the lover!” he sneered. “I suspected there was a lover,” -and he looked me up and down. “I shall not forget your appearance, -Monsieur, though I do not know your name. I warn you again that you are -playing a dangerous game.” - -“Dangerous or not,” I retorted, losing patience, “I play it to suit -myself. Be off!” - -“She is my niece,” he protested. “I am her legal guardian. You are -setting the law at defiance.” - -“Be off!” I cried again, for I feared every moment that a section of -the watch would chance into the street. He doubtless had the same -thought, for he looked about him with expectant eyes, but saw the -street deserted. He glanced at me again, and I prodded him gently -with my sword. He started as he felt the point and walked slowly -away, muttering horrible curses and shaking his fists in the air in an -ecstasy of rage. I had never before seen a man so wholly lose grip of -his temper, and more than half expected him to fall in a fit. - -But he did not fall, only staggered from side to side of the street -like a drunken man. I watched him until he faded from sight in the -gathering darkness, and then turned back to the fugitive. - -She had apparently recovered from her exhaustion, for she arose as I -approached and looked at me shyly. She was prettier than I had thought. - -“Well, Mademoiselle,” I said, “it seems I have rid you of your pursuer. -Now whither shall I conduct you? Believe me, I am wholly at your -service.” - -She glanced up into my face and went red, then white, then red again, -and lowered her eyes in helpless confusion. Standing so, I could see -her long, sooty lashes outlined against her cheek, the droop of the -lids, the little nose, the shell-like ear--’twas enough to make any man -play the fool. I confess, I had done it for much less. - -“I do not know, Monsieur,” she stammered, at last, “where you can take -me.” - -“What?” I cried, astonished in my turn. “But your home, Mademoiselle; -your family?” - -“It is from my home that I flee,” she answered, sadly, a little break -in her voice. “It is my family whom I fear.” - -“But your friends?” I persisted, my heart warming towards her. “At -least you have friends.” - -She shook her head, and I fancied I could see the tears shining beneath -the lashes. - -“None who would not conceive it their duty to deliver me to my family,” -she said, and stood knitting her fingers together nervously. - -I paused a moment in sheer bewilderment. Here was a problem! - -“Perhaps it is my duty also to deliver you to your family,” I remarked -at last, but my heart was not in the words. - -“Ah, you would not say so, Monsieur, if you knew the story!” and she -looked up at me beseechingly, her eyes bright with tears. There was no -mistaking this time, and I, certainly, could not resist their appeal, -which sent the blood bounding in my temples. - -“Come,” I said, “we must get away from here, at any rate, or your -amiable uncle will return with reënforcements and surprise us. Take my -arm, Mademoiselle.” - -She did so without hesitation, and I led her across the Rue St. Honoré -and into the gardens of the Tuileries. The place was thronged with -people, as it always is in the evening, summer or winter, and, deciding -that no one could discover us among so many, I found an unoccupied seat -under the trees near the river, where I installed her. - -On the way, I had reflected on the situation in which I found myself, -and its complete absurdity struck me for the first time. Here was I, a -young man alone in Paris, knowing no one, with no fortune but youth’s -hope for the future, assuming the protection of a pretty girl of -sixteen or seventeen, whom I had never seen until ten minutes since and -whose name I did not even know. - -I could not help laughing as I seated myself beside her. She looked -at me for a moment with a glance clear and unembarrassed, but in -which there was nothing bold nor immodest, and then, comprehending my -thought, she threw back her head and laughed with me. I was enchanted, -and in my admiration forgot my mirth. I saw that her throat was full, -round, and white, that her chin was adorable, that there were dimples -in her cheeks, that her mouth was finely arched, and her teeth small -and regular. I felt a sudden warmth about my heart. Plainly here was a -girl innocent as well as beautiful, and who looked at the world with -eyes in which there was no trace of jaundice or suspicion. Harm such a -one? Not I! - -“Come, Mademoiselle,” I said at last, “it is necessary for us to arrive -at an understanding of the situation. You behold in me Pierre le Moyne, -late of Mont-de-Marsan, but for a week past and I trust for the future, -of Paris, and, I repeat, wholly at your service,” and as I said the -word I arose and bowed before her. - -She acknowledged my bow with a pretty little nod of the head. - -“And I, M. le Moyne,” she answered, “am Mademoiselle Anne Ribaut; -although I much prefer to be called Nanette, and, I fear, very greatly -in need of your services.” - -“Tell me the story,” I suggested, and reseated myself beside her. - -“Well, M. le Moyne,” she began, “it is like this. My father and mother -are both dead--have been dead for so long that I remember neither of -them--and my father’s brother, Jacques Ribaut, a jeweller of the Rue -des Moulins, is my guardian. Until a week ago he kept me at the convent -of the Sacred Heart, and then, finally, just as I began to think I was -to spend my whole life there, he sent for me. Oh, how pleased I was -when the time came to leave those fearful gray walls, within which one -never dared speak above a whisper! But I did not imagine what was about -to befall me, or I should not have been so happy. I arrived at the Rue -des Moulins; I was shown into the presence of my uncle, and I tried to -make him love me. He looked me over much as he would have inspected an -ox he was about to purchase, and he seemed well satisfied.” - -“I do not doubt it,” I said, and I looked at her sparkling eyes and -laughing mouth, and thought that a man must indeed be hard to please -who would not be satisfied. - -“Do not interrupt, I beg of you, Monsieur,” she cried, “or I shall -lose my place, as we used to say at the convent. Well, as I said, he -appeared pleased, and I had begun to hope that we should be very -happy together, and that he would be good to me and permit me to see -something of the world. But the next day he brought in another man to -see me--oh, a horrible man, with a great nose which seemed to spread -all over his face, and green eyes that would make you tremble. He also -looked me over in a way that made my flesh tingle--that filled me with -shame and anger, as though I had been insulted--and then they both went -away and I tried to forget all about it. But the next day my uncle came -to see me again and informed me that I was to marry this man, whose -name, it seems, is Jean Briquet. I protested that I did not wish to -marry, and especially not such a monster. I said that I had, as yet, -seen nothing of the world, except that gray and dreary bit enclosed -within the four walls of the convent--that I was still young and that -there was plenty of time. But my uncle was inexorable. He said it was -already a thing accomplished, since he had promised M. Briquet my hand, -and that the wedding should take place in a week’s time.” - -She paused for a moment, overcome by the horror of the recollection, -and I found that in some manner her hand had made its way to mine. She -did not attempt to remove it, and I held it closely, with a strange -tenderness in my heart. It was so warm, so soft, so confiding--a -child’s hand. - -“Yes, yes,” I said, fearing that if she paused she would see her hand a -captive, “and then?” - -“I heard no more about it until to-night, when my uncle came to me and -told me that the wedding was to take place at nine o’clock to-morrow -morning. He paid no heed to my entreaties and reproaches, but warned me -not to fail to be ready at the hour, and turned on his heel and left -me. I could think of only one thing to do--that was to flee. Anything -seemed preferable to marrying that hideous creature. So I put on my -hat, placed in my purse the little money I possess, stole down the -stairs, and through the front door into the street. Unfortunately, my -uncle caught a glimpse of me as I ran past the house, and started in -pursuit. You know the rest, Monsieur. You do not blame me?” and she -looked at me with eyes soft with entreaty. - -“No,” I said, “I do not blame you. You were right to flee, since there -was no other way. No one could expect you to marry a monster.” - -“Ah, how glad I am to hear you say that!” she cried. “And you will -protect me, Monsieur, will you not? How I admired the manner in which -you disposed of my uncle this evening,” and she smiled at me in a way -there was no resisting. - -Evidently even within the walls of a convent a woman may learn many -things--or perhaps no woman needs to be taught the surest way to reach -a man’s heart. - - - - -CHAPTER II - -I FIND MYSELF BROTHER TO AN ENCHANTING GIRL - - -WE sat for some time in silence, she looking with childish delight at -the brilliant and ever-changing scene before her, I pondering over the -perplexities of the situation. I saw that I should need all my wit to -straighten out the snarl, and though I was proud of my wit, as every -Gascon must be, I doubted somewhat if it would prove equal to this -task. But this misgiving did not vex me long,--we of the south take -trouble as it comes. Besides, was I not here, in one of the loveliest -spots of the most beautiful city in the world, with an enchanting girl -at my side, who permitted me to hold her hand and gaze into her eyes? -Mordieu! in such a situation, how could a man, with warm, red blood in -him, doubt his power for bringing things to pass? - -Indeed, the scene itself was one to make a man forget his troubles, -as I saw it had made my companion forget hers, and I had not looked -upon it so often that I could contemplate it with indifferent eyes. -The moon was just rising behind the long line of the Tuileries and -showed us in the walks and about the fountains the crowds which had -gathered to get a breath of air and exchange a word of gossip. A row of -lanterns had been swung from end to end of the Allée des Orangers--by -order, perhaps, of some wealthy bourgeois, who wished to hold a fête -there--and two or three men, in a uniform I did not know, were busy -keeping loiterers away. It was public ground, of course, but then money -will work miracles, especially in Paris. Away to our right gleamed the -quays and the river; the former even more crowded than the gardens, the -latter sparkling with the lanterns of grain-barges and fishing-boats, -drifting with the current, or slowly making head against it. And -everywhere was the murmur of voices, like the wind stirring the leaves -of a great forest. - -I saw how the girl’s eyes sparkled and her lips opened with delight as -she gazed at all this. - -“Beautiful, is it not, Mademoiselle?” I asked, at last, merely to make -her look at me, that I might see again into her eyes. - -“Oh, beautiful! I had never imagined the like!” - -“Not even when you were building your castles of the future in the -convent?” - -She made a little grimace of disgust. - -“This is life,” she said. “That was not life--it was only the gray -shadow of it.” - -Then suddenly I saw that she shivered. - -“You are cold!” I cried. “And you have no cloak--only this thin dress. -Come, we must go!” - -“Go?” she questioned, looking at me, all her worry back upon her in an -instant. “Yes--but whither, Monsieur? Not to my uncle’s!” - -She was quite white with the horror of the thought, and I felt that her -hand was trembling. I pressed it in both of mine--a child’s hand, I -repeated to myself. - -“No, not back to your uncle’s,” I assured her. “But you must go -somewhere for the night. Could you not return to the convent?” - -She breathed a deep sigh of relief and the color swept back into her -cheeks again. But she shook her head in answer to my question. - -“I had thought of that,” she said; “but they would deliver me again to -my uncle in the morning, Monsieur.” - -“True,” I murmured, and I pondered over the problem deeply. Clearly, -there was only one thing to be done, but it could hardly fail to -compromise her, and I paused. I had need to be very sure of myself. - -“Mademoiselle,” I said, at last, “you believe me to be a man of honor, -do you not?” - -“Oh, yes,” she answered, and she looked at me and smiled again. - -“I pray you to believe me so, Mademoiselle,” I continued earnestly. “I -am going to assume a brother’s right to protect you. To-morrow, I shall -call upon your uncle, and will say a few things to him which I trust -will bring him to his senses. But to-night, since you cannot remain in -the gardens here, you must pass in my room.” - -She glanced at me with frightened eyes, but my face reassured her. - -“Very well, M. le Moyne,” she answered quietly. “As I said before, I -believe you to be a man of honor.” - -I lifted her hand to my lips and kissed it. - -“I appreciate your trust, Mademoiselle,” I said, “and shall do -everything in my power to deserve it.” - -She glanced at me again and I saw that her eyes were shining. - -“Come, let us go,” she said, and we arose. - -“The house I occupy, Mademoiselle,” I explained, as we started away, -“is in the Rue du Chantre, and the room is but a poor affair, yet I -trust you will find it comfortable. I have been in Paris only a week, -and have not yet found better lodgings. In fact,” I added, judging it -best to tell her the whole truth at a breath, “my fortune is not a -large one, and not knowing how soon I should be able to increase it, I -judged it best to husband it as much as possible.” - -“There, there, Monsieur,” she cried, “do not apologize, I beg of you! -You forget that I have no claim upon you and that what you are doing is -out of charity, without hope of reward.” - -A reply leaped to my lips as I looked into her eyes, but I choked it -back and we passed through the streets in silence. In my heart I felt a -great tenderness for this innocent and confiding creature, who leaned -so naturally upon my arm, and who evidently had heretofore gazed upon -the world only from a distance, comprehending nothing of what she saw; -but I reflected that I, who knew not how to support myself, certainly -could not hope to support a wife also, and put the thought behind me. - -The Rue St. Honoré was crowded as we left the garden and turned into -it, and the front of the Palais Royal brilliantly lighted, but every -one was occupied with his own affairs and we seemed to be unobserved. -Pushing our way through the crowd, we soon reached the Rue du Chantre. -The street grew more and more deserted as we left the Rue St. Honoré -behind. - -“This is the place, Mademoiselle,” I said, at last, and as we entered -the house together I saw the old woman who acted as concierge, and whom -I had come to detest even in a week’s time, leering at us horribly. My -blood was boiling as I caught the meaning of her grimace, but I said -nothing, fearing to alarm my companion, and we slowly mounted the dark -staircase. - -“’Tis on the third floor,” I said, and we kept on, awakening a thousand -echoes. “This is the door, Mademoiselle. I will open it. There is a -candle on the table. Good-night.” - -I took her hand, which I felt was trembling. - -“And you?” she asked in a whisper. - -“I will remain here,” I said. “I will sleep upon the threshold. No one -can enter without arousing me, so that you may sleep calmly without -fear. Good-night.” - -“Good-night,” she answered, and there were tears in her voice. She -lingered yet a moment, as though there were something she still wished -to say, then entered the room and closed the door behind her. I heard -her moving about for a few moments, and then all was still. - -I sat down upon the top step of the staircase and considered the -situation. I confess it appeared to me an awkward one, for, though I -had spoken so confidently to her, I had small hope that whatever I -might say would have any weight with her ogre of an uncle. He doubtless -detested me as heartily as I did him, and it was not to be denied that -he had the law behind him, though in this instance, as in many others, -quite divorced from justice. I trembled at thought of the blow her -reputation must sustain if it were known that for a night she had been -my guest--the face of the concierge, as I had seen it leer at us, gave -earnest of what the whole gay, evil world of Paris would believe. I -tore my kerchief from my throat, for the thought suffocated me. No one -should ever know--how could they, in this great, seething, clamorous -city? And if they did--if any dared to hint--thank God, I could answer -with my sword! - -He had thought me her lover--curse his shifty, treacherous eyes! -Perhaps she had a lover--and I winced at the thought. But no, I would -not believe it! She would have told me. She would have asked me to -take her to him. And besides, I reflected, with a sigh of relief, she -had said that she had left the convent a week before only to find her -uncle’s house another prison. She could not have made such progress in -knowledge of the world in so short a time--indeed the frankness of her -look was proof enough. - -With this thought, which somehow soothed and pleased me, I wrapped my -cloak about me, and sword at side, lay down athwart the threshold. A -vision of her sweet face danced before me--her eyes looked into mine, -pure and limpid as twin stars. Marvelling at their guilelessness, -I bent to kiss their rosy lids. Still they gazed at me, serene, -untroubled, and I stopped, shamed in my inmost consciousness, as one -who had thought to desecrate a flower. - - - - -CHAPTER III - -I FIND MY PART A DIFFICULT ONE - - -I AWOKE with a start and looked about me, but could discern nothing, -for the darkness was absolute, impenetrable. What it was that had -disturbed me I could not guess. I was about to tell myself I had been -dreaming, when I heard a stealthy footstep on the stair. A second -followed. Some one was mounting cautiously. With heart leaping at -promise of adventure, I grasped my sword and sat upright, noiselessly. -The steps drew near and nearer; they were at the top of the stair--and -in an instant some one had stumbled over my extended legs and come down -with a crash upon the floor. I was upon the intruder in a flash, and -was astonished to find it was a woman. - -“Who are you?” I whispered fiercely, between my teeth. “And what seek -you here?” - -“Rather tell me what you seek here, Monsieur,” answered a voice twisted -and quivering with rage and malice, but which I nevertheless recognized -as that of the concierge. “You have rented the apartment, but not the -landing in front of it.” - -“I will occupy the landing no longer than to-night,” I said. “But you -have not yet told me your business here.” - -“I am going to bed,” she answered sullenly. “My room is the one at the -end of the corridor.” - -“Go, then,” I said, loosing my hold of her, my suspicions not yet -allayed. “But remember that I shall still be here and it would be well -for you to remain in your room till morning. Another fall such as that -might snap some of your dry, old, rotten bones.” - -The woman got slowly to her feet and I could hear her cursing softly to -herself. She took a step away from me and paused. I could guess what -her face was like! - -“Since when has it been the fashion,” she snarled, “for a young man to -give up his bed to a pretty girl and himself sleep without the door? It -was not so in my day.” - -“I can well believe it!” I retorted. “Begone!” - -She shuffled slowly down the passage. I heard the opening and closing -of a door and all was still. - -I wrapped my cloak about me once again, but sleep came no more to my -eyes. The encounter had filled me with uneasiness. That she was simply -on the way to her room, as she had said, I did not believe, but what -her object was I could not guess. During my whole week’s wanderings -in the streets of Paris I had encountered no face which repelled me -as did hers, with its yellow eyes, its sallow, withered cheeks, its -surly, snarling mouth. When I had seen it first, it had struck me as -threatening and terrible, and this impression deepened as I saw it -oftener. Something, I know not what, about the woman told me that -she was trembling at heart, that she lived in a state of constant -terror. A suggestion of the gutter and the darkness seemed to cling to -her, as though she had dragged herself through an abyss reeking with -unspeakable foulness. - -I could have sworn that she had read my thought in my eyes the first -time I looked at her, so livid did her face become, and this belief -disturbed me so that I determined to change my lodging, but had chanced -upon no other matching the lightness of my purse. I am not a man to be -frightened at phantoms of my own imagining, but as I sat there in the -darkness I promised myself that another night should find me far from -the Rue du Chantre. - -Morning came, and the filthy panes of the little window above the -stair-head turned from black to gray as I sat there musing. I arose, -removed from my clothing the traces of the dirty floor and went down -into the court, where I made my toilet at a trough in the yard, keeping -one eye upon the stair meanwhile to see that none descended. I had -scarce gained the stair-head again, when the door of my room opened, -and Mlle. Ribaut appeared framed in the doorway, fresh and rosy as a -picture by Watteau. - -“Good-morning, M. le Moyne,” she cried, and courtesied to me with a -grace worthy of Louis’s court. - -“Good-morning, Mademoiselle,” I said, bowing and taking her hand, -which, I told myself, was one of the prerogatives of a brother. “I -trust you slept well?” - -“Never better in my life, Monsieur,” she answered gayly. “I have never -before been honored with a guard at my door, especially one on whom I -could rely so thoroughly.” - -I bowed again at the compliment, and she must have seen the tenderness -which I could not keep from my face, for she drew her hand away, and -glanced nervously at the floor. I watched her glowing cheek with -ravished eyes until, of a sudden, I remembered that a brother would not -do so. - -“Come, Mademoiselle,” I cried, “we must get breakfast. I know a -splendid place just around the corner, where they serve the most -excellent coffee, and rolls which fairly melt in one’s mouth.” - -“And I am famously hungry,” she answered, laughing, her embarrassment -forgotten in an instant. “Wait until I get my hat, Monsieur.” - -She was back in a moment, and we went down the stairs together and out -into the street. The morning was bright and warm and the streets were -thronged with people. I glanced again at my companion’s happy face, -and resolved to do nothing which could bring a shade upon it, however -difficult I might find the task. - -We were soon at the café in the Rue de Beauvais, and the waiter gave us -a little table in a corner near the window, whence we could look out -upon the busy street. I shall not soon forget that meal. Mlle. Ribaut -laughed with delight as the coffee was placed before her, and served it -with the prettiest grace in the world. As for me, I almost forgot to -eat in gazing at her. - -“You appear distracted, M. le Moyne,” she cried. “I’ll wager you are -thinking with what an irksome charge you have burdened yourself.” - -“Not at all, Mademoiselle,” I answered quickly. “I was thinking how -difficult it is to be a brother to an adorable girl with whom one is -just getting acquainted.” - -“I do not find it at all difficult, Monsieur,” and she laughed gayly. -“I assure you, I find it delightful to be a sister. I have never before -been a sister, Monsieur, and I enjoy having a big brother immensely.” - -I glanced at her merry face, but saw there only guilelessness and -innocent good will. My heart fell within me, and I cursed myself for a -fool. - -“Well, Mademoiselle,” I began. - -“Oh, come, Monsieur,” she interrupted, “does a man always call his -sister Mademoiselle?” - -“No more than a sister calls her brother Monsieur,” I retorted readily. - -“Well, my name is Nanette, as I have already had the honor of telling -you,” she said. - -“And mine is Pierre.” - -She clapped her hands together gleefully. - -“Splendid!” she cried. “We are getting along famously. I think it is a -very pretty name--Pierre. Now, what was it you were about to say?” - -In the shock of delight at hearing her pronounce my name, I had quite -forgotten. But I rallied my wits with an effort. - -“I was about to say that at ten o’clock I shall call upon your uncle. -I shall approach him with an assured air, as one who will not brook -denial. I shall say to him that you would die rather than consent to -this marriage and that you will not return home until he agrees to say -no more about it.” - -“Ah, you do not know my uncle,” she said sadly. “Believe me, Pierre, he -will never agree.” - -“In that case,” I answered, with a cheerfulness I confess I did not -feel, “we will secure a cottage at St. Cloud, or some other delightful -place. I will send for my sister who is in retreat at Aignan, and who -would joy to come. You will love each other, I am sure. And there we -shall all live happily together until your uncle does consent or until -an apoplexy carries him off.” - -“That will be charming!” she cried, with dancing eyes. “I almost hope -he will not consent, so that it may come true. But, Pierre,” and she -hesitated. - -“Yes?” - -“All this will take money,” she continued, after a moment, “and you -told me your fortune is not great.” - -“Well, I will increase it,” I declared, though I confess I had no idea -how I should do so, unless I enlisted as a brigand under that arrant -knave and prince of thieves, Cartouche. Yet not even that could I -do--there was my sister--I had kissed the cross--you shall hear. - -She was silenced for a moment, and then took a purse from the bosom of -her dress. - -“Will you keep this for me,” she asked, “and use it when there is need? -’Tis what I brought from home with me, my sweetmeat money.” - -“Impossible,” I protested. “Keep your money, Mademoiselle.” - -She looked at me a moment with quivering lips. - -“That is not like my brother,” she said at last. “My brother would -understand that I do not wish to be a burden to him. At least, he would -consent to keep it for me, for fear that I might lose it.” - -I reached out, took the purse, and placed it carefully in my bosom. - -“When you wish it again, you have only to ask for it, Nanette,” I said. - -“That is better,” and her face cleared. “And now, Pierre, what shall I -do while you are conferring with my uncle?” - -“I think it will be best for you to remain in my room,” I answered, -after a moment’s thought. “I will return there at once, so soon as I -have seen him, and if I am unsuccessful we can set about securing that -cottage I mentioned a moment ago.” - -“Very well,” she said sedately. “And I assure you that I shall not be -idle. I saw some clothing in your room this morning that was oh, so -badly in need of repair. I intend to make you a good sister, Pierre.” - -“A good sister!” I murmured, and bit my tongue to keep it still. - -“Yes, a good sister,” and then she looked at me, her face suddenly -serious. “But there is one thing that must be remedied--I know so -little about my brother. You must tell me more, Pierre.” - -“Ah, I should love to!” I cried. “And you really care to know?” - -[Illustration: Who, looking deep into her eyes, could have lacked -inspiration?] - -“All! All!” she nodded, and leaned towards me, her chin in her hands, -her elbows on the table. “Of my life I told you in a sentence--I -have done nothing--nothing has happened to me. But with you, it is -different--you are a man. You have lived always in the great world.” - -I looked at the curve of her dainty wrists, the little pink, -interlocked fingers, the cheeks soft and delicate as peach-bloom, and -then up into the eyes, dark, pure and quite fathomless. I pinched my -leg beneath the table to make sure I was not dreaming. Was ever youth -so fortunate? - -“We have an hour,” she concluded. “You are going to see my uncle at -ten--it is not yet nine. So you will have time to tell me all--every -word.” - -“Yes, every word,” I echoed. “But shall it be here, or----” - -“Oh, here! Here it is so cosey, so homelike, and we seem to have known -each other for ages instead of merely since last night. Can it be that -I have known you only since last night?” - -“No,” I said, with conviction. “We have known each other long and long, -only fate held us apart. Now we can laugh at fate.” - -“Yes. But the story.” - -“Very well--the story.” - -“And, mind--no skipping!” she cried, shaking her finger at me -warningly. “I must have every word.” - -Who, looking deep into her eyes, could have lacked inspiration? - - - - -CHAPTER IV - -IN WHICH I COME TO PARIS - - -BUT it was not to tell that story I set pen to paper. Indeed, it were -scarce worth the telling, save to sympathetic ears, such as were those -tiny pink ones into which I poured it that morning. - -Yet, two words about it. - -We of Marsan have not always been so poor. Time was, when, as fief -of the house of Cauteret, we held broad fields and deep woods. -Unfortunately, M. le Comte, being half-Spanish himself, was so foolish -as to espouse the Spanish side in one of the innumerable intrigues -against the thirteenth Louis--they trod so fast upon each other’s heels -that I never knew just which it was. At any rate, in the event, M. le -Comte was fain to seek safety on his wife’s estates at Valladolid, and -rode away merrily enough, little regretting France. - -We le Moynes, though we had followed M. le Comte to battle as in duty -bound, were honest enough to refuse to change our French coats for -Spanish ones, and so remained behind. We were too small fry to attract -the displeasure of the King, who had a host of greater cares to worry -him, so we were left to follow our own devices and keep ourselves from -starving as best we might. - -The sixty years preceding my arrival had been spent by the le Moynes -getting a living as honestly as might be, and if we found a bit of -brigandage needful now and again to keep body and soul together, why, -we were ever ready to answer for it, man to man. - -It was in a small house of stone on the right bank of the Midouze I -first saw the light. My father I never knew--he had been killed in some -foray a month or two before my birth--but my mother continued living -on there with her husband’s brother, Chabert le Moyne, and his wife. -The first ten or twelve years of my life passed peacefully enough, my -mother giving me such instruction as she could, and insisting that I -go with her every Saturday morning, wet or shine, to the curé for my -lesson. The remainder of the time I spent as it pleased me--wandering -along the river or paddling about in it; or exploring the great forest, -which had one time belonged to M. le Comte, but which was now the -King’s. - -But at the age of twelve, my uncle Chabert took me suddenly in hand. -This was the more surprising because, up to that time, he had taken not -the slightest notice of me, save to assist me with his toe whenever he -chanced to find me scrambling out of his way. But now, all this was -changed. I must learn to ride, it seemed; to shoot with the pistol, -and to use dagger and rapier. I tell you, he kept me busy--and how I -relished it! There were some hard falls, just at the first, that shook -the teeth in my head, until I learned the trick of sticking to my -horse’s back, but after that only the long rides and the bouts with my -uncle. He seldom let me escape without a tap or two on the crown, just -to show me what a booby with the blade I was, but I thought nothing of -such petty things. - -He was a tall, lean man, this uncle of mine, with moustache twisted to -a needle-point above a mouth which never opened needlessly. His eyes, -too, I remember--few cared to meet them at any time, none when he was -enwrathed. A dozen blackguards, who lived somewhere near by--God knows -where!--called him master and would have joyfully gone to hell for him. -Sometimes they would gather at the house at nightfall, my uncle would -kiss his wife and stamp out to his horse. I, looking big-eyed from one -corner of the little window in my bed-room, would see him fling himself -into the saddle and spur away, the others falling naturally in behind. - -It was enough to make one tremble, and if I ventured down the ladder -into the room where my aunt and mother were--pretending I wanted a -drink or some such thing--I would find them in tears, and my mother -would look at me sorrowfully and draw me tenderly to her and weep over -me, as though some dreadful fate threatened me. The days that followed, -they would spend in horrible suspense, and how they would welcome him -when he came riding home again! - -I understood nothing of all this, but my sister did. For it was at this -time she came home from the convent at Aignan, where the good sisters -had been caring for her. She had been sent there, a mere baby, at the -time my mother was expecting me, and she had been kept there since, we -being too poor to feed another mouth, and the good sisters hoping that -she would in the end enter the cloister. But when the time came, she -found herself lacking in courage or devotion--I do not know, for this -is one of the things about her I never quite understood--and so she was -sent home again. At least, here she was, tall and fair and dark-eyed, -and we were all a little afraid of her until we found how warm and -tender her heart was. Yes, and brave, too,--how could I have said she -lacked courage?--as I was presently to find out for myself. - -It was one evening in early June. As the twilight deepened along the -river, I heard far off the tramp of horses and knew that another -journey was afoot. I went to the door to see them dash up along the -road, and very fine and brave they looked to me. They pulled full-stop -at the door, harness clanking, sword rattling against thigh, and my -uncle, who was at table, hastily swallowed the last of his meat, and -rose to don sword and headgear. I, who was still gaping out the door, -heard the sound of my sister’s voice. - -“Where do you go, uncle?” she asked. - -He was girding on his sword, and paused an instant to look at her in -sheer amazement. Then he turned away without answering. - -“If it be upon a Godless errand you go, as I suspect,” she went, on, -quite calm and steady, “I pray you to think of your soul. What of it?” - -My faith, but I was trembling for her and the women staring -open-mouthed! - -I saw my uncle’s face darken, but he drew on his gauntlets and turned -to the door, saying never a word. He found her before him. For a moment -he stood looking into her eyes with a gaze that brought the sweat to -my forehead. I protest I am no coward, but I could not look in his -face--no, not even now--with such calm as hers. - -But the moment passed. With a swift movement of his hand, he swept her -from his path and strode from the house. We heard him leap to saddle -and then the clatter of hoofs down the road. The girl stood silent, -listening, until the distance swallowed up the sound. - -“He will not come back,” she said at last, with the air of a -prophetess. “The Virgin told me so this morning. He will never come -back, and he goes to his death unshriven.” - -Then she went from the room, while terror still held her hearers -palsied. - -Even yet can I remember the agony of those days, the prayers on our -knees before the cross, the straining of eyes down the road. And -then, at last, in the gray dawn of the fourth day, came the rush of a -single horse’s hoofs, and a rude clatter at the door. I, peeping out -my window, saw a man sitting on his horse--such a man!--mud-stained, -blood-stained, unkempt, breathless, with livid fear still on his -face and in his eyes. I could hear my aunt fumbling at the bar with -trembling hands and then the door opened. - -“Le Moyne is dead,” said the man abruptly, in a terrible voice. “So -are all the others but one or two. It was an ambush. We thought we -had the coach and good plunder, when out they spurred from front and -rear, left and right. We had no chance, curse them! but they paid two -for one--aye, four for le Moyne. There was a man!” and with a horrible -choking in his throat, he struck spur to flank and pushed on. - -Well, we lived on in a way--the wood gave us fagots--the earth a little -grain--sometimes my snares brought game to table. But what a life for -a lusty youth of nineteen, hot with impatience to see the world, yet -bound to three women! I loved them, I would not have left them, but how -I gnawed my heart out with longing to be gone! - -We were well off the highway, hidden deep in the woods along the river, -else we must have fallen prey to violence ere we did, for that sister -of mine had grown into a woman fit to make men mad to look at. But it -came at last. - -I was staggering home one day under a load of fagots from the -wood--what disgrace for a le Moyne to gather fagots! Mordieu, it makes -me warm even yet to think of! Well, I was staggering home, and cursing -my unhappy fate, when of a sudden I heard a woman scream, and knew the -voice for my sister’s. I dropped the fagots and ran forward, stooping -low to avoid the branches. In a moment I was at the house. - -Before it were three horses, one of them bestrode by the finest -gentleman I had ever seen, the others riderless. Through the open door -came the sounds of a struggle. - -“What is it?” I demanded roughly. “What do you here, Monsieur?” - -He scarcely deigned me a glance. - -“Be off, canaille!” he said, and turned to the door. “Bring her out,” -he cried, “but so much as a bruise and I’ll kill you both.” - -And there appeared in the doorway two ruffians, bearing my sister -between them. - -Then I understood, and my blood turned to fire. - -How I did it, I know no more now than I did then, but I sprang upon -them and flung them right and left--one crashing against the door-post, -the other backward into the road that I might stamp his life out. I -heard a curse behind me, and a whip was brought hissing down across -my face--see, there is the scar, just at the corner of my eye. But I -turned on him like the wild beast I in that moment felt myself to be -and dragged him down from the saddle. I knew the others would be upon -me, that I could not escape, but I prayed Christ that I might kill him -first. I had him by the throat, bending him backward; I saw his eyes -start, his tongue swell--and then heavy steps behind me. I waited the -stab that I knew must come. Ah, my brave sister! it was you who saved -me, seizing my sword from the scabbard as it hung just within the door, -and using it how well! - -One rode away hot-foot, in safety. The others lay where they had -fallen, and we staring down at them. Then my sister looked at the red -blade in her hand and dropped it, shuddering and faint. - -“Their blood is on their own hands, not on ours,” I said. “Why did they -not pass in peace?” - -“Yes, why did they not?” and she stared down at them. “I was here, -alone, the others had gone to wash at the river, when they came by. He -saw me, and--oh, infamous! The world is well rid of him!” - -I saw the other women coming towards us under the trees, and then of a -sudden I knew our danger. - -“We cannot stay here,” I cried. “They will be back again. The one who -fled will bring them, hot for vengeance. We must go!” - -The women looked down the road, white-faced. - -“Not you others, perhaps,” I said. “You were not here--they will not -seek for you. But we--I and my sister--must go.” - -“Yes--but whither?” asked my aunt. - -Whither? I did not know. I did not care. Here there was only death. - -It was my sister who proved the wisest--then as always. - -“I will go to Aignan,” she said, with a calmness that astonished -me. “The good sisters will protect me and give me sanctuary. You, -dear Pierre, must go farther--to some great city, where you can lose -yourself for a time.” - -My blood was tingling. I knew whither I would go. - -“To Paris!” I cried. “To Paris!” - -My mother uttered a little cry of horror. - -“Paris! Oh, no, Pierre! How can you cover those two hundred leagues?” - -My eyes were on the horse, which stood patiently by its master, waiting -for him to rise and mount. - -“The horse will carry me,” I said. “Yes, and provide me money at my -journey’s end.” - -She would have protested, would have pleaded, but I broke away into the -house, donned the best suit my uncle had left behind, stretching it -somewhat in the struggle, buckled on sword and dagger, and was ready. -Never had I felt so strong, so confident. At last was I to have a bout -with fortune! - -But money? I had little--well--and then, as I left the house, I saw -again the gallant lying stark in the dust. Perhaps in his pockets -were broad gold-pieces--a jewel flashed on his finger--but even as I -stooped, a hand was laid on my shoulder, and I turned to find myself -looking into my sister’s eyes. - -“Not that, Pierre,” she said hoarsely. “For Christ’s sake, not that! -The le Moynes have been thieves long enough--now let them be honest -men!” - -I felt my throat contract and my eyes grow wet. - -“But I cannot starve,” I faltered, cursing my own weakness. - -I saw the blood die from her lips. - -“Here, take this!” she cried, and she tore open her gown and snatched -a cross from her bosom. I saw that it was of gold. “It was given to -me,” she said, “at Aignan. Now I give it to you to buy bread. It is the -dearest thing I have, but I give it gladly, for I am ransoming your -soul. Henceforth the le Moynes will be honest men.” - -I could not speak, but I dropped at her feet and kissed the cross as -she held it down to me. It is an oath, thank God, I have never broken. - -“And you will not sell the horse,” she added--what a woman she was! -“You will ride him as far as Tours. There you will deliver him to -a coureur to be returned to Marsan. I will see that he is claimed. -Good-by, dear Pierre,” and she held up her lips. - -I kissed her as I would have kissed the Virgin, then my mother and -aunt. They seemed quite broken, yet it was clear we must be off. To -Marsan and back was only a matter of three hours, and near an hour of -this was already gone. I sprang to saddle and looked at them all, once -again, standing there in the road. Then I touched spur to flank and was -off. - -And so, in the course of days, I came to Tours, where I sold the -cross and delivered the horse to the coureur. Then to Paris, where I -arrived at last, weary and somewhat stained by the road, yet with ten -pistoles in my pocket, a good sword at my side, and a light heart in my -bosom--the heart of youth! - -Two words, did I say? How memory makes one garrulous! - - - - -CHAPTER V - -M. RIBAUT IS OBDURATE - - -SHE sat looking at me for a moment without speaking, her chin in her -hands, her eyes bright. - -“That is life!” she said, at last. “That is living! That is what I long -for! And, oh, how I shall love your sister! What is her name, Pierre?” - -“Ninon,” I answered. - -“Ninon!” and she lingered on the word. “Why, that is almost Nanette! -Oh, that I could see her, now--this moment!” - -“Perhaps you soon will--that cottage at St. Cloud, you know,” and I -smiled at her eager face. “Come, it is time for me to pay my respects -to your amiable uncle.” - -She gave a little gasp. - -“And you are not afraid?” she asked. “Do you think he will harm you, -Pierre?” - -“Harm me?” I laughed. “No,” and I touched the hilt of my sword. “There -is nothing to fear--on my account. Come.” - -She arose with a little sigh, and paused in the doorway for a backward -look. - -“But I have been happy here,” she said softly, and together we passed -out into the street. - -We made our way back to the Rue du Chantre in silence. She seemed -oppressed by some foreboding, and I was considering what I would best -say to her uncle. It was not an easy matter to decide--I felt that, -in this case, I should be readier with my sword than with my tongue, -I hated him so already! We entered the little court and paused at the -stair-foot. - -“I will leave you here, Nanette,” I said. “I shall not be long away.” - -She answered with a pressure of the hand and smiled into my eyes. How -often, afterwards, in my dreams, did I see her standing so! - -I watched her for a moment as she mounted the stair, and then turned -away. I caught a glimpse of the hideous concierge leering at me from -her box, and hurried from the place, disgusted, resolved anew to seek -another lodging. On through the streets I pressed, for I was anxious to -have my errand done--along the crowded, clamorous Rue St. Honoré, to -the Rue des Frondeurs, then to the Rue de l’Evêque--with leaping heart -I saw again the corner where Nanette had sought shelter in my arms, -months agone, it seemed!--and so onward across the Rue des Orties, to -the Rue des Moulins. - -She had described the house for me, and I had no difficulty in finding -it, for a gilded board, bearing the legend - - +-----------------+ - | JACQUES RIBAUT, | - | BIJOUTIER. | - +-----------------+ - -projected into the street. I mounted the steps and knocked at the door, -noting as I did so that the house was a large one and in good repair, -a thing somewhat uncommon in Paris. A servant answered the knock, and -I was surprised to see that he was in livery. M. Jacques Ribaut must -indeed be wealthy. - -“Is M. Ribaut within?” I asked. - -“Yes, Monsieur.” - -“I wish to see him,” and, as the man hesitated, I added, “Tell him it -is some one who brings him news from his niece.” - -“Wait just a moment, Monsieur,” and the man disappeared down the -hallway. He was back almost immediately. - -“You are to enter, Monsieur,” he said, and I followed him down the -hall. He opened a door before me, and I was in the presence of a little -fat man whom I recognized at once. He knew me also, and he leaned back -in his chair and gazed at me, his eyes agleam with hatred. - -“What is your price, Monsieur?” he asked abruptly. - -I stared at him in amazement - -“I do not understand,” I said, after a moment. - -“Oh, come,” he burst out, his anger getting the better of him, “let us -descend from the heights and get to business. You have possession, I -suppose, of the body of my niece. I ask you what price you demand to -deliver her to me?” - -I felt my cheeks burning, but I determined to keep my temper. - -“Monsieur,” I answered as quietly as I could, “my price is your promise -to break off at once this wedding which you propose and to sign in the -presence of witnesses a paper which I shall have executed in which you -will agree to permit your niece to choose her own husband.” - -“Believing, doubtless, that she will choose you!” he sneered. “May I -ask, Monsieur, where you met my niece?” - -“In the Rue de l’Evêque, as you know.” - -“You had never met her before last night?” - -“No. I had never seen her before that.” - -He gazed at me astonished, for he saw that I spoke the truth. - -“May I ask your name, Monsieur?” he said. - -“Pierre le Moyne.” - -“And your home?” - -“Mont-de-Marsan.” - -“I might have guessed it!” he cried. “Only a Gascon would attempt a -thing so ridiculous. Come, Monsieur, return me my niece and cease this -farce. It has been carried too far already. You imagine, doubtless, -that you are performing one of those Quixotic deeds for which your -countrymen are famous, but you do not understand the situation. This -husband whom I have chosen for my niece is M. Briquet, a wealthy and -respected man, well fitted to make her happy. She is young and does -not know her own mind. She has been bred in a convent and has arranged -some little romance for herself, in which the hero is doubtless a -prince, young, rich, and beautiful. She forgets that she is a poor girl -and that her marriage portion is hardly worth considering. M. Briquet -is a good match--better than could have been hoped for. In a year from -now she will think him adorable,” and he leered at me in a way that -made my flesh creep, “for he is good-natured--he does not ask what has -happened since last night--he will not set watch on her too closely--no -doubt there will still be a place for you.” - -I felt my blood grow hot against the brute, but I kept close grip on my -temper. After all, I had an end to accomplish. - -“I have already told you, Monsieur,” I answered, coldly, “on what terms -your niece will be returned to you. If she then chooses to marry M. -Briquet, well and good. If not, she will marry some one else.” - -His self-control slipped from him, as cloak from shoulder, and left his -wrath quite naked. - -“Mordieu!” he yelled, springing from his chair and shaking his fist -in my face, “you speak as though you had the right to meddle in -this affair. I will call in the law! I will have you thrown into the -conciergerie! I will compel you to return the girl!” - -“Perhaps the law might also inquire why you are so anxious to have her -become Madame Briquet,” I retorted, for want of something better, and -paused in astonishment. He had fallen back into his chair, his face -livid. What possessed the man? - -“Get out of here!” he screamed, when he had regained the power of -speech. “Get out of here, and tell your harlot never to show her face -here again, or I will denounce her as a woman of the town!” - -He got no farther, for I was upon him, all my blood in my face. I -caught him up from the chair and smote him in the mouth with my open -hand. - -“You dog!” I cried. “You dog!” and I struck him again. - -“Murder!” he shrieked. “Help! He is killing me!” - -I heard steps rushing down the hallway and the door behind me opened. -With a last blow I hurled Ribaut back into his chair and turned towards -the door, facing a man whom, from his surpassing ugliness, I knew -instantly to be Briquet. I had never seen a countenance more repulsive, -and I looked at him with loathing. - -“Who are you, Monsieur,” he cried, “and what do you here?” - -“I am punishing that scoundrel yonder for daring to ask his niece to -marry another scoundrel such as you!” I answered, and I looked him in -the eyes, all my contempt in my face. - -His face went from red to purple. - -“Kill him!” screamed Ribaut from the chair where he sat, the blood -streaming from nose and mouth. “It was he who took the girl from me.” - -With an oath, Briquet snatched a pistol from his pocket. But I was too -quick for him, for, seizing a chair, I knocked the barrel up even as he -pulled the trigger and brought the chair down upon his head. He fell -like an ox. - -“Ribaut,” I said, turning to the miserable object cowering in the -chair, “if I gave you your deserts I would kill you like the cur you -are, but I scorn to draw my sword against such vermin. I warn you that -if you so much as lift your finger against that girl you shall pay -for it with your life,” and fearing that my passion would yet get the -better of me, I turned from the room, strode down the hallway and left -the house. - -As I made my way to the Rue du Chantre I tried in vain to solve the -mystery of which I had caught but a glimpse--the terror of Ribaut, the -ferocity of Briquet, the evident understanding between the two. Why -were they determined to sacrifice the girl? I could find no answer to -the question, and I turned to another problem which demanded immediate -solution. - -How was I to provide for her now that the die was cast? I remembered -with a melancholy accuracy that my fortune was limited to the contents -of my purse and that my purse was anything but heavy. What a cottage at -St. Cloud would cost I dared not think, and then a wardrobe had also to -be provided, since she had brought with her only the clothes she wore. - -It was with this problem weighing on my mind that I turned into the -entrance and slowly mounted the stairs to my room. I knocked at the -door, but there was no response. With a great fear at my heart I -flung the door open and entered. One glance told me that the room was -empty. Chairs had been overturned, the lock of the door was broken. -With a trembling hand I picked up a garment in which there was still -a threaded needle. I could read the story at a glance. She had been -surprised, overpowered, carried away. And in the moment of agony that -followed I knew that I loved her. - - - - -CHAPTER VI - -RIBAUT PLAYS A CARD - - -I STOOD for a moment dazed by this unexpected blow, for which I had -been wholly unprepared. From what direction had it come? Clearly not -from Ribaut, since I had been with him all the time. From whom, then? -And in an instant I remembered the mysterious actions of the old woman -who had fallen over my feet the night before. I ran down the stairs -like the wind, and as I reached the court I perceived her sitting in -her ruinous little lodge. I drew my sword, threw the door open and -entered. - -“Madame,” I said, with all the calmness I could muster, “you will tell -me at once what has happened to the lady who was in my room.” - -She crouched back in her chair away from the point at her throat and -looked at me with venomous eyes. - -“I know nothing about it,” she snarled. “You will have to look -elsewhere, my fine blade.” - -“No lies!” I said sharply. “You cannot deceive me. She could not have -been carried off without you seeing it, even if you did not lend a -hand.” - -“Carried off, indeed!” she retorted with a sneer. “And what if she had -simply grown weary of you and took the first chance to escape? On my -word, I should not blame her!” - -“She did not go away of her own will,” I said, quite positively. “She -was carried away. Tell me what you saw.” - -“I saw nothing,” she repeated sullenly. - -“Very well,” I said between my teeth, “it seems you are prepared to -die, then. Say your prayers. Commend your soul to God, if you possess -one, for I warn you that I will kill you as I would a snake, without an -instant’s hesitation.” - -She looked at me for a moment, her eyes glittering, her face livid, her -mouth working convulsively. She licked her lips and swallowed with an -effort. - -“Come,” I repeated, “you have nothing more to say then?” and my sword -quivered in my hand. - -She saw I was in earnest. - -“I will tell you what I know, Monsieur,” she said at last. - -“Good. That is the only way to save your life,” and I lowered my -point. “If I find you lying to me, you shall die none the less surely.” - -“All that I know, Monsieur, is that ten minutes after you had left -three men entered. One remained on guard here, while the others mounted -the stair. In a moment they returned, bringing the lady with them. -Despite her struggles, they placed her in a coach which was waiting in -the street, and drove away as fast as their horses could take them.” - -“And who were these men?” I asked. “Where did they take the girl?” - -“I do not know, Monsieur.” - -“You lie!” I cried fiercely. “It was you who set them on! It was you -who told them she was alone! Tell me who they were!” - -She was snarling again from the depths of her chair, and I looked at -her in disgust. - -“Come,” I repeated after a moment, “you must tell me. There is no way -of escaping it.” - -I saw her glance past me into the court, and heard footsteps on the -stones without. I turned to see two men standing there. - -“Is there a gentleman lodged here by the name of Pierre le Moyne?” -asked one of them. - -“That is my name,” I answered. - -“Will you be good enough to accompany us, Monsieur?” - -“And why?” I inquired. - -“We have been commissioned to conduct you to M. d’Argenson, lieutenant -of police,” he answered. “He will doubtless explain everything to you, -Monsieur.” - -“I am under arrest, then?” I asked, with a sinking heart. - -“If you choose to call it so, Monsieur,” and the man bowed. - -I heard the concierge chuckling savagely in her chair behind me. - -“Very well,” I said, after a moment’s reflection, “I shall be very -glad to see M. le Comte d’Argenson. But I have some clothing and other -property in my room here which I do not care to have stolen.” - -“We will seal the door, Monsieur, if you will show us the room. Nothing -will then be disturbed in your absence.” - -I led the way to the room and we entered. - -“We were also instructed to bring to M. d’Argenson a girl named Anne -Ribaut,” said the fellow, looking about the room and seeing it empty. -“Where is she, Monsieur?” - -“I do not know,” I answered bitterly. “I left her here an hour since. -When I returned she had disappeared. Look at the condition of the room, -Monsieur, and judge if she went willingly.” - -They looked about the room with practised eyes, which took in every -detail. - -“Have you a theory, Monsieur?” asked one of them at last. - -“Only that the woman who is concierge knows more about it than she -cares to tell,” I answered. “I was endeavoring to force a confession -from her at the point of my sword when you interrupted me.” - -“Ah,” and the man smiled. “We must look into that. If she has anything -to tell she will tell it, Monsieur, rest assured of that. We have a -more effective method of securing confessions than the sword-point,” -and he smiled again. - -They made another careful survey of the place, disturbing nothing, and -then, motioning me to follow, left the room and sealed the door behind -them. We descended to the court, but found that the concierge was no -longer in her lodge. - -“We shall get her, Monsieur, never fear,” one of them remarked. “No one -can escape us in Paris.” - -I doubted this somewhat, but deemed it best to say nothing, and -followed them into the street. They led the way to the Rue St. Honoré, -turned down the Bons Enfants, and entered at one of the smaller doors -of the Palais Royal. In a moment we were in an ante-chamber which was -crowded with people, many of whom shot curious glances at me as we -passed. Here there was a short delay, and then we were shown into a -room where a man sat writing at a table. - -I looked at him with interest, for that this was the renowned Comte -Voyer d’Argenson, who had organized the police system of Paris into -the most perfect in the world, I did not doubt. At the first glance I -was struck by nothing so much as his surpassing ugliness, for his face -was horribly disfigured by small-pox, and yet when I looked again this -impression faded imperceptibly and I saw only a man with kindly eyes -and winning mouth. - -He listened in silence to the report of the men who had arrested me, -glancing keenly at my face once or twice, but for the most part -playing with the pen he still held in his hand. - -“Very good,” he said, as the report was concluded. “I need not tell you -that it is necessary to arrest this woman. Do so without delay, and -find out everything possible about her past. You may go.” - -They went out and closed the door behind them. - -“Sit down, M. le Moyne,” he continued, and I fancied I detected a trace -of kindness in his voice. “I should be glad to hear your story of your -connection with Mlle. Ribaut.” - -“May I ask first, Monsieur,” I questioned, “why I have been arrested?” - -“You are charged with the abduction and detention of the girl, with -drawing your sword against her legal guardian, M. Jacques Ribaut, and -with subsequently assaulting him and his friend, M. Jean Briquet, at -his residence in the Rue des Moulins. Luckily, they were not injured -seriously, and so could lodge complaint against you without delay.” - -“But they did not know my lodging,” I protested, looking at him with -bewildered eyes. “How was I found so speedily?” - -D’Argenson smiled and turned to a great book which lay beside him on -the table. - -“Listen,” he said, and opened it. “Ah, here it is,” he added, after -turning a page or two. “An entry on this page reads as follows, under -date of July 10: ‘Pierre le Moyne, age about twenty, brown hair, -brown eyes, well built, entered by the Porte St. Antoine at sunrise. -Found lodging at the Epée Flamboyante, Rue du Chantre. A Gascon, -Mont-de-Marsan. Unsuspected.’” - -He smiled again as he glanced at my astonished face. - -“It is our record,” he said, “of all strangers who enter Paris. We have -agents at every gate--a simple thing. You see we had you under our -hand.” - -Still I could not speak. It was incredible. But I began to understand -how no one could escape M. D’Argenson. - -“As to the charges,” he added more gravely, “I trust they are not true, -M. le Moyne, for they are of a most serious nature.” - - - - -CHAPTER VII - -I AM FORTUNATE IN FINDING A NEW FRIEND - - -I SAT looking at him without answering, dismayed somewhat at the -gravity of his face. Yet there were still the kindly eyes and -mouth--surely I need fear no injustice from this man! - -“I will tell you the story, M. le Comte,” I said, after a moment’s -thought. “You shall judge for yourself in how far I am guilty.” And I -gave him a detailed account of everything that had happened from the -moment I had encountered Mlle. Ribaut in the Rue de l’Evêque until the -moment of my arrest. D’Argenson did not once interrupt me, but glanced -at me keenly from time to time, and remained for a moment silent after -I had finished. - -“M. le Moyne,” he said at last, “I need not tell you that you have been -setting the law at defiance in all this, and that however I may respect -you as a man of honor, as lieutenant of police there is only one course -open to me, and that is to punish you. A father or legal guardian has -an absolute and unquestioned right to dispose of a girl’s hand in -marriage. There are only two conditions under which this right can be -called into question. One is when there is some legal impediment which -would prevent the marriage and which is being concealed. The other is -when the proposed marriage is in the nature of a conspiracy, for the -purpose of defrauding the girl in some way, or of doing her some other -wrong.” - -“Ah, Monsieur,” I cried, “if you could but see this creature, this -Briquet! He is hideous, horrible! It seems to me that it is wrong -enough that any girl should be compelled to marry him and live with -such a monster.” - -D’Argenson laughed bitterly. - -“I have seen him, M. le Moyne,” he said. “It was he who came here to -make complaint against you on behalf of M. Ribaut. I confess he is not -lovely, but you could scarce expect me to take action on that ground, -else I should be pronouncing a decree against my own countenance.” - -“But there is a difference, M. le Comte!” I cried, and I wondered that -I had ever thought him repulsive. “Mere irregularity of features, or -even disfigurement, does not constitute ugliness. No countenance is -offensive, Monsieur, which is lighted by kindly eyes and a smiling -mouth. It is not so with Briquet. One shrinks from him instinctively as -from a snake.” - -D’Argenson did not answer, but sat musing deeply. - -At last he raised his head. - -“M. le Moyne,” he said, his eyes full on mine, “tell me truly why you -came to Paris. It was not merely to seek your fortune?” - -His eyes seemed to be reading my very heart. I had no thought of -telling aught but the truth. So the truth I told, just as I had told -Nanette, only more briefly--the attack on my sister and my killing of -the libertine who had ordered it. Neither this time did M. le Comte -interrupt me, but sat listening quietly, only looking at me with those -eyes there was no denying. He was smiling when I ended, and I took -courage. - -“You have strong hearts, you le Moynes, men and women,” he said. “Some -rumor of this affair hath reached Paris, only in another guise. It was -that M. Philippe de Nizan and two attendants had been set upon by a -gang of outlaws, and de Nizan and one of his men killed. The other, who -escaped, told a pretty story of the fight, doubtless to save his own -reputation. But I knew he was lying, for private advices from Marsan -tell me that not a jewel nor pistole had been stolen. Only one of the -horses was missing.” - -“I rode it away, as I told you, M. le Comte,” I protested earnestly. -“It has been sent back from Tours and should be at Marsan by this time -awaiting its owner. That will prove the truth of my story, Monsieur.” - -But D’Argenson silenced me with a gesture of his hand. - -“I need no proof, M. le Moyne,” he said kindly. “I believe it already. -I can detect truth from falsehood--that is why I am head of the police. -You did well to trust me.” - -I turned red with pleasure and tried to stammer my thanks, but he -silenced me again. - -“If the varlet sticks to his lie, you, of course, will not be -troubled,” he added. “Should he tell the truth, the whole truth, -there could be no charge against you. Should he tell a half-truth, -implicating you, I will take a hand in the affair. I can protect you -there, because you had the law on your side, but about this other I am -not so certain. You have struck at one of the props of our society, -and there is no crime more serious. If a parent or guardian may not -dispose of his child in marriage, we will have simply chaos.” - -I did not know what to answer. I had no wish to bring about a -revolution, yet I knew quite well that I should never permit Nanette to -be returned to her infamous uncle--but I could not say that to M. le -Comte. He sat for some moments deep in thought, while I tried vainly to -discover a way out of the coil. - -“Well, M. le Moyne,” he said at last, “it is evident that the most -important thing now is to find the girl, since she is no longer with -you. Until that is done and her testimony can be secured, I will see -that the charge against you is not pressed.” - -“And in the mean time,” I questioned breathlessly, “I trust you will -not think it necessary to send me to prison, M. le Comte?” - -“And why not?” he asked smiling. - -“Because in prison, Monsieur, I could do nothing towards assisting your -agents to recover Mlle. Ribaut.” - -“I had thought of that,” said d’Argenson. “Well, Monsieur, I will give -you your freedom on two conditions.” - -“And what are they?” I asked. - -“One is that you report here to me at eight o’clock every morning so -that I can detain you if there is need.” - -“I agree!” I cried. - -“The other is that if you succeed in finding Mlle. Ribaut, you will -bring her here to me at once and surrender her into my hands without -question.” - -I hesitated for a moment, but a glance at d’Argenson’s face convinced -me that he would use me fairly. - -“Very well, Monsieur,” I said, “I agree to your second condition. But -in return I would ask of you one thing.” - -“And what is that?” - -“It is, M. le Comte, that you make a little inquiry into the affairs of -Ribaut and Briquet. I am certain that a conspiracy of some kind does -exist,” and I told him of Ribaut’s terror, when, for want of something -better to say, I had threatened him with a police investigation. - -“It may be as you say,” assented d’Argenson thoughtfully. “At any rate, -I will gladly do as you suggest, for I do not conceal from you, M. le -Moyne, that my heart is with you in this matter. I can appreciate a -gentleman, Monsieur, wherever I find him,” and he arose and gave me -his hand. “If I can aid you in any way, I will do so--I can promise -you that much. Adieu, Monsieur, and do not forget to report to-morrow -morning. I may have some news for you.” - -I pressed his hand warmly, thanked him, and took my leave. Evening was -already at hand as I reached the street, and my stomach reminded me -that I had eaten nothing since morning. I sought out the café in the -Rue de Beauvais where we had breakfasted, and as I ate my solitary -meal, I saw again before me the laughing, piquant face of Nanette -Ribaut. I lingered at the table, revelling in the companionship which -my thoughts created for me, and nine o’clock was striking from the -Louvre as I once more reached the street. I reflected that I could do -nothing better than return to my room and get a good night’s rest, -for I was accustomed to a softer bed than I had had the night before, -and felt greatly fatigued. Besides, it was just possible that the old -concierge might return, and nothing would please me so much as to turn -her over to d’Argenson, that she might be put to the question. - -I was soon at the house, but saw in a moment that the lodge of the -concierge was dark and deserted. I mounted to my own room, found the -seals on the door undisturbed, broke them and entered. My heart was -beating madly as I lighted the candle and looked around. It seemed to -me that I could still detect the sweet, faint perfume of Nanette’s -presence in the room. I set to work to repair its disorder, and picked -up with reverent fingers the garment upon which she had been working. I -did not remove the threaded needle, but resolved that it should remain -there, and that I would treasure the worn garment always. - -Long time I sat by the table and mused over the day’s events. -D’Argenson had said that the law was against me, and that, if no -impediment was found, Nanette must do her uncle’s bidding. I shut -my teeth together as I determined that this impediment should be -found; that I would penetrate this mystery; that I would prevent this -sacrifice. But how, how? - -In an agony of apprehension, I prepared for bed. As I removed my -doublet, something fell to the floor, and when I stooped to look more -closely I saw it was the purse Nanette had given me. I picked it up -with trembling hand, and sleep found me with it clasped close against -my heart. - - - - -CHAPTER VIII - -I KEEP AN APPOINTMENT - - -I AWOKE in the morning strong, refreshed, and hopeful, and I arose -without delay, for I was eager to commence the contest. The day was -singularly bright and pleasant. It reminded me of the sweet springs I -had known in the south, and I descended the stairs with a light heart, -confident that I should yet win the victory. That is what it is to be -young! - -As I passed the lodge of the concierge I saw that there was some one -within, and I opened the door to find an old man looking at me. - -“Good-day, Monsieur,” he said politely. “Is there anything you wish?” - -“Are you the concierge?” I asked. - -“Since this morning only, Monsieur,” he answered. - -“Can you tell me what has become of your predecessor?” - -“I did not know him, Monsieur.” - -I looked at the man sharply, but he returned my gaze without winking. - -“How, then, did you obtain the place?” I asked. - -“The concierge of the next house, who is a friend of mine, told me -there was a vacancy here, so I came and was accepted.” - -I looked at him again. If he was lying, he was doing it admirably and -with a perfect composure. - -“Very well, my friend,” I said at last. “I trust you will do your duty -better than your predecessor. Yesterday my room, which is on the third -floor, was entered and some property carried away. You will oblige me -by keeping an eye upon my room,” and I laid a crown upon the table, for -I reflected that I could lose nothing by gaining the friendship of this -man, who might, perhaps, be able to assist me. - -“Thank you, Monsieur,” he said, reddening with pleasure at sight of -the coin. “Monsieur may rest assured that his room will not again be -disturbed.” - -“I trust so, at least,” I answered, and turned into the street. I -knew that eight o’clock could not be far distant, so, without waiting -for breakfast, I hastened towards the Palais Royal and was soon in M. -d’Argenson’s ante-chamber. - -It was, if anything, more crowded than on the previous day, and a -circumstance which astonished me was that so few of those present -wore uniforms. Indeed, the crowd which eddied ceaselessly back and -forth seemed to be drawn from every rank of life, from the highest to -the lowest, and as I glanced over this motley assemblage I gained an -idea, vague and meagre no doubt, of the extent of the great system -of espionage which the Comte d’Argenson had established, and which -penetrated into every corner of Parisian life, like an enormous and -insatiable vine, continually throwing out creepers and seeking a fresh -foothold in some spot not already occupied. I paused beside a man who -seemed to be the gardien, and who attentively scanned all who entered. - -“If one wishes to see M. le Comte d’Argenson, Monsieur,” I inquired, -“how does one proceed?” - -“You will find him very busy, Monsieur,” he answered, “unless your -business is of importance.” - -“I have an appointment with him at eight o’clock,” I said dryly. - -“Ah, in that case there will be no trouble. M. d’Argenson allows -nothing to interfere with his appointments,” and the man smiled. “Give -your name to that gentleman whom you see standing by the closed door -yonder, Monsieur.” - -“Many thanks,” I said, and did as he directed. In a few moments the man -signalled me to follow him, and led the way into M. d’Argenson’s office. - -“Good-morning, M. le Moyne,” he cried, as I entered. “Take a chair, -if you please, and pardon me for one moment,” and he resumed the -examination of a great number of papers, passing from one to another -with incredible rapidity, affixing his signature here, erasing a line -there, and laying a few to one side for further consideration. - -I had opportunity to examine his face more attentively than had been -possible the day before, and, the first impression produced by its -disfigurement past, I found it more and more admirable. - -The fame of the Comte d’Argenson had penetrated to the four corners -of France, until Le Dammé, as he was called because of his formidable -countenance, had become a word to frighten children with. A thousand -stories were told of him, how he commenced his audiences at three -o’clock in the morning and worked all day, dictating to four -secretaries at once; making his rounds at night in a carriage in which -there was a desk lighted by candles, so that no single moment might be -lost; facing street riots with a cool courage which made him master -of the mob; striking home with an absolute disregard of form and -precedent, overcoming many obstacles, and achieving his object before -another man could have planned the attack. - -Certain it was that he had brought order out of chaos, suppressed crime -with a rigid hand, and developed a system of espionage so complete that -there were few in Paris concerning whose habits and conduct from day to -day he could not be fully informed, should he choose to inquire about -them. Clothed with an authority almost absolute, he had yet strength -to use it gently and wisely; above corruption, discreet, ever leaning -towards the merciful; a thorough gentleman, with whom any secret was -safe, so that it did not interfere with the law or with the State--a -fact which a thousand women knew by experience and thanked God for--it -is little wonder that I gazed at him with interest and attention. - -“Ah, M. le Moyne,” he said at last, looking up from a paper which he -held in his hand, “here is a report which will interest you. The name -of the concierge, it seems, is Mère Fouchon--at least, that is the -only name she has ever been known to have. She secured her place as -concierge in the Rue du Chantre nearly five years ago, by means of -recommendations which my agents have since discovered were forged. Of -her previous history we have as yet been able to ascertain nothing, -but we will in time. During the five years she was concierge she made -no friends--none, at least, to whom she told anything of her past -life. She seems to have emerged from the darkness, and the fact that -so little is known concerning her is in itself suspicious. No one, -especially no woman, covers up her past unless there is something to -conceal. Decidedly, I am interested in Mère Fouchon.” - -“And you have not succeeded in finding her, I suppose, Monsieur?” I -inquired. - -“No,” answered d’Argenson, “she seems to have disappeared completely. -She has descended into that darkness from which she emerged five years -ago, and she has done it in a way which shows that she has kept in -touch with the life of the sewers. But she cannot escape the eyes of -my agents, which are everywhere--especially in the Paris which lives -underground. We shall hear from her in a day or two, Monsieur, and -after that our course will be an easy one.” - -There was nothing more to be said, and as d’Argenson turned to other -matters, I left the place and strolled moodily through the streets. I -stopped at the first cabaret I came to and ordered breakfast, and, as I -ate, endeavored to form some plan which held out at least a promise of -success. - -I could think of nothing better than to take M. d’Argenson’s hint and -search those quarters of the town along the river and in the faubourgs -where the criminal classes congregated, in the chance of catching a -glimpse of Mère Fouchon, but I had little hope of success. To search -for a single human being in those swarming dens of vice was a task -which even the police found onerous--but I could not sit still with -folded hands while Nanette was in danger, and I set about my task -without delay. - - - - -CHAPTER IX - -A DESCENT INTO A CESSPOOL - - -I TURNED first towards the quays, hoping that in the crowd of beggars, -thieves, and cut-throats which swarmed over them I might chance upon -the object of my search. The streets were crowded with carriages -and heavy carts, which went their way with a fine disregard of the -foot-passengers, who kept out of danger as best they could, seeking -shelter behind the protections thrown out at each corner, or dodging -back and forth under the noses of the horses. - -As I crossed the river and turned into the Quai des Théatins, I heard -a shrill scream of terror, and witnessed an accident such as happened -many times daily in Paris. A child had been knocked down by a passing -horse, and lay sprawling on the pavement. In a moment the heavy wheels -of a cart would have crushed her, for the crowd regarded the accident -with a singular indifference, but I sprang forward with an oath at -their carelessness, and dragged her to her feet. With two strides I -gained the protection of a projecting flight of steps, and paused to -look at her. - -I saw at a glance that she was a creature of the streets, one of those -unfortunate beings with no home but the ash-heaps, no food but that she -managed to rescue from the garbage-piles. She might have been ten years -old, or twenty, it was impossible to tell--or, rather, it would be more -correct to say that her body had the arrested development of a sickly -child of ten, her face the preternatural shrewdness and knowledge of -a street-woman twice that age. The rags in which she was clothed were -horribly dirty, and as I set her again on her feet I shuddered to see -that her legs were hideously bowed. - -“There, my child,” I said, as I put her down, “you are quite safe now. -In future be more careful where you are going. Another time you may not -escape so fortunately.” - -She looked at me with large eyes, in which there was a trace of tears. - -“Yes, Monsieur,” she said. “You are very kind.” - -“There, run along,” I answered, touched with pity as I looked at -her pinched face, which under other circumstances might have been -attractive--even pretty. - -“Yes, Monsieur,” she said again. Still she did not move, but stood -looking wistfully up into my face. - -“What is it, my dear?” I asked, stooping down beside her. - -She hesitated a moment, looked down at the pavement, and then slowly -raised her eyes again to mine. - -“I think--I should like you--very much, Monsieur,” she stammered, and -turned away into the street. I gazed after her in amazement, for I -could have sworn that she had blushed. I watched her until she was out -of sight, and then continued on my way, pondering over this new wonder, -until I plunged into the fetid quarter near the Halles, and found -plenty there to occupy my mind. - -In an hour’s time my heart was sick of the task. The tottering -buildings, the filthy streets, the sore-eyed, half-naked children -swarming with vermin; the hideous creatures who had once been men and -women, but who now were merely monsters disguised in forms scarce -human; the sickening, penetrating stench which hung over everything; -the squalor, disease, corruption, vice, which were evident on every -hand--all these filled me with disgust and dismay, for I, reared under -the trees and the blue sky, had never dreamed of anything so terrible, -and I trembled at the thought that perhaps in one of those filthy -holes, reeking with crime and disease, Nanette--my Nanette, dainty, -beautiful, innocent--might be concealed. The thought turned my heart -sick within me, and I pushed on from street to street, looking to right -and left, mad with horror and despair. - -My brain was reeling as I made my way back to the river’s edge for a -breath of pure air and a glimpse of God’s blue sky unsullied by the -miasma of disease and filth. Then I turned again to my work, peering -into reeking courts, along foul alleys, under noisome doorways, -my hand always on my sword, for I detected everywhere black looks -and threatening gestures which would have meant death had I been -unprepared. But nowhere did I catch a glimpse of Mère Fouchon, and -at last, sick at heart, and with every organ of my body in revolt, I -turned away and went slowly back to the Rue du Chantre. - -As I entered the court, I saw the concierge beckoning to me eagerly -from his box, and I hastened to him. - -“What is it?” I asked. “You have something to tell me?” - -“Yes, Monsieur,” he answered, with a smile. “You were asking this -morning about my predecessor.” - -“Well, what then?” and I endeavored to control my impatience. - -“She sent this morning for some clothing she had left behind.” - -“Yes, yes. Go on.” - -“She sent a girl, a gamine, only so high, all rags, all dirt, a -horrible sight.” - -“Make haste!” I cried. “What then?” - -“Well, I gave this girl the clothes, Monsieur. She took them and went -away.” - -“And is that all?” I asked, my heart falling again. - -“Not quite, Monsieur. It happened that my grandson was here at the -time, and I told him to follow the girl, believing that in this way we -might learn where her mistress is hiding.” - -“Splendid!” I cried. “And he followed her?” - -“Yes, he followed her, Monsieur--ah, such a distance! Along the Rue des -Poulies to the river, along the quays, across the Pont Neuf, through -the Rue de la Pelleterie, again along the quays, across the Rue St. -Croix, through the Rue Cocatrix, doubling back and forth like a rabbit, -doubtless to render pursuit impossible, until finally she turned -into the Rue du Chevet. When my grandson reached the corner she had -disappeared.” - -“’Twas well done!” I cried. “Here is a crown for your grandson, who is -a brave boy,” and I turned away. - -“Where do you go, Monsieur?” asked the concierge. - -“To the Rue du Chevet, to be sure,” I answered. “Depend upon it, I -shall soon find her hiding-place.” - -“Have a care, Monsieur,” he protested. “’Tis a dangerous place for -honest men.” - -“I have my sword,” I answered, and hurried into the street. - -Darkness had already come, but I traversed the quays and crossed the -Pont Neuf, with its queer little semicircular shops, its dentists and -quack doctors and its equestrian statue of our great Henri, without -pausing for breath. It was only when I plunged into the maze of streets -beyond that I was compelled to stop and inquire my way, and even then -it was with the greatest difficulty that I found the Rue du Chevet. - -I should have given up the task as hopeless, but the thought of Nanette -a captive, suffering I knew not what indignities, spurred me on. The -quarter was plunged in absolute darkness, there being no pretence of -lighting the streets, and I could not see two paces before me, but -from the stench which assailed my nostrils--the vapor of crime and -disease--I knew I was again in one of those filthy quarters of the town -where I had spent the day. - -Shadows passed me, leaving behind an impression of incredible foulness. -Strange shapes brushed against me. There was something terrible and -threatening in the very atmosphere. I felt that, although I could see -nothing, I was fully visible to these denizens of the night, whose eyes -had grown accustomed to its blackness. Here and there a feeble ray of -light penetrated the shutters of a window or fought its way through a -crevice in a doorway and faintly illumined a few inches of the dirty -pavement. Everywhere else was gloom, so thick, so heavy, so absolute, -that it seemed to press upon and suffocate me. - -I put my hand to my face and found my forehead damp with perspiration. - -“Come,” I said, “this will not do. You are frightening yourself, my -friend. There is really nothing here to fear,” and I continued on. - -At the end of a moment, I ran against a wall. I felt along it with -my hands and found that it completely closed the end of the street. -Evidently it was a cul-de-sac and I must retrace my steps. I reflected -that it were folly to attempt anything more until daylight came to -my assistance, and that the wisest thing for me to do was to return -to the Rue du Chantre and secure a good night’s rest. Then in the -morning, with the help of M. d’Argenson’s men, I would soon unearth -Mère Fouchon. I shuddered to think that Nanette was condemned to spend -a second night in such a place, but plainly I was powerless to prevent -it. - -As I turned away from the wall, I seemed to hear the sound of many -feet shuffling along the pavement, of many voices whispering together. -A thousand eyes seemed glaring at me through the darkness. There was -something inexpressibly chilling and menacing in this murmur, which -continually receded as I advanced, only to close in behind me. I felt -that I had but to stretch out my hand to touch a wall of living bodies, -and yet I dared not do so. - -Suddenly a door right beside me was thrown open and a flood of light -poured out into the street. For a moment I was blinded, and then, -framed in the doorway, I saw the shrivelled form and leering face of -Mère Fouchon. - -“Oh, oh!” she cried, in a shrill voice, “so it is M. le Moyne--the -chivalrous M. le Moyne, who prefers a bed on the floor to his own couch -when a pretty girl occupies it!” - -My sword was out of its sheath in a breath. - -“Hellcat!” I cried, and sprang towards her. - -She vanished from the doorway like a shadow, but I was after her. Even -as I passed the threshold, I heard a clear, piercing cry. - -“Pierre!” screamed the voice. “Oh, Pierre! This way!” - -“Nanette!” I cried. “Nanette! In a moment, my darling!” and I hurled -myself across the room and down the hallway whence the cry seemed to -come. - -In that instant, I saw a huge shadow quivering on the wall above me -and before I could turn, a crushing blow fell upon my head. There was -a burst of flame before my eyes, my sword slipped from my hand, I felt -myself falling, falling, and all was black. - - - - -CHAPTER X - -MÈRE FOUCHON SCORES - - -I AWOKE with a great pain in my eyes, and when I raised my hand to my -head, I found that my hair was clotted with blood. A weight of iron -seemed to burden every limb, and I groaned aloud as I tried to rise, -and fell back again, palsied by the agony the movement cost me. I felt -the wall behind me, and dragging myself to it with infinite suffering, -I propped my back against it and looked about me. I could see nothing, -for a veil of impenetrable darkness shut me in, and no single crevice -admitted a ray of light. The wall against which I leaned was cold and -slimy, and once or twice a drop of water fell upon my head. - -How long I sat there I do not know, but finally, by a supreme effort, I -got to my knees and then to my feet. Feeling along the wall, I advanced -a step, two steps, three. And then something seemed to seize me by the -waist and hurl me backward. I lay still for a moment, half-dazed, not -understanding what had happened. I put my hands to my waist and in an -instant I comprehended. Around my waist, just above the hips, an iron -band was clamped. At the back of the band was a hasp, through which a -chain passed. I ran my hands along the chain. It was perhaps three feet -in length, and the other end was fastened to the wall. - -I suppose I must have fainted, for I remember nothing more until I was -torn from the merciful grasp of sleep by a burning thirst, a thirst -which tortured and maddened me. I could feel my throat contracting; my -tongue swelling in my throbbing mouth--my blood seemed to be aflame. -I scraped my fingers over the reeking wall and sucked them for a bit -of moisture. I held my mouth open, upward, in the hope that a drop of -water might fall into it. I cursed aloud and jerked at my chain in an -agony of desperation. At last, I fell exhausted against the wall, and -sank into a troubled sleep, disturbed by hideous dreams. - -When I opened my eyes again, I seemed stronger. The pain in my head was -less intense, but my throat was still dry and parched and I felt hot -and feverish. A chance motion of my hand brought it into contact with -something on the floor beside me. I felt it cautiously. It seemed to -be a vessel of some kind. I placed my fingers within it and found it -full of water. With a gasp of thankfulness, I placed it to my lips and -drank, trembling at the thought that had I turned in my sleep I might -have upset it and spilled its precious contents. - -Ah, how I drank! I swallowed in great gulps. I filled my mouth to -bursting and allowed the blessed liquid to trickle slowly down my -throat. I turned my head from side to side, that every portion of my -gullet might be reached. I gloated over it as a miser over his gold, -and at last with a sigh of utter content, set down the vessel empty. - -The water ran through my veins like wine, and I arose to my feet, -strong and invigorated. My eyes had grown somewhat accustomed to the -darkness, and I could dimly perceive the wall stretching away on -either side. And for the first time, I remembered--the search through -the night, the opening of the door, Nanette’s scream for help, the -shadow on the wall--it flashed through my brain like lightning through -a summer sky--I must escape, I must keep cool--and with set teeth I -choked back the trembling that would have seized me. - -The spasm passed, and with my fingers I carefully examined the iron -belt about my waist. It was, I judged, three inches wide by half an -inch in thickness. The ends, which overlapped, were provided with a -series of teeth, which fitted together and were clamped into place by -a lock. The ends had been pushed past each other until the belt was -fitted close to my waist. I tried to work it down over my hips, but -soon perceived that this could not be done. Clearly, if I ever left the -place, it would be with the belt about me. - -I turned my attention to the hasp at the back. It was heavy and riveted -through the belt. I examined the chain link by link, but found none -that showed a sign of weakness. A heavy iron ring held it to the -wall. How the ring was secured I could not tell, but I exerted all my -strength against it and found I could not move it a hair’s-breadth. -Certainly my captors had overlooked no detail that would tend to make -me more secure. What fiendish ingenuity had devised this place of -torture! - -As I sat down again with a sigh of discouragement, I heard a sharp -click as of a spring released, a heavy door creaked back, and a woman -appeared carrying a lantern. At a glance I recognized Mère Fouchon. Her -face was illumined by a devilish joy as she looked about and saw me -sitting there. - -“Ho, ho,” she laughed, “can this be the gallant who was going to spit -me on his sword only the other morning?” - -I did not answer, and she placed her lantern on the ground and sat -down on a heap of dirt opposite me, but well out of reach, and rocked -herself back and forth, and chuckled. I felt myself choking with rage. - -“And the girl, too,” she continued, after a moment, “the girl with the -dark eyes and little red mouth. She is called Nanette, is she not? -What a shame that she should be crying her eyes out in the room just -overhead!” - -I ground my teeth together at the thought of my own impotence. - -“Ah, curse!” she cried, “curse your heart out! Christ, how it gladdens -my soul! Ho, ho!” and she rocked back and forth in a paroxysm of mirth. - -“Come,” I said at last, mastering my anger as best I could. “Why are -you doing all this?” - -“For money,” she answered gayly. “Ten thousand crowns, at the very -least, Monsieur. It is a pretty sum, is it not?” - -“Very pretty,” I said. “Who is fool enough to part with it?” - -“Who but M. Jacques Ribaut, of the Rue des Moulins?” and the hag -laughed more than ever. - -“Ribaut?” I murmured, a great fear at my heart. - -“Assuredly, Ribaut,” and she leered at me horribly. “Perhaps M. Jean -Briquet may pay a portion of it. ’Tis worth it to get such a bride, do -you not think so, Monsieur?--such a sweet bride, so soft, so young, so -innocent--a jewel of a bride!” - -“A bride?” I groaned. “Speak out, woman, and tell me what you mean.” - -I thought she would choke with laughing. - -“In two words, Monsieur,” she gasped, so soon as she had regained her -breath. “When once the terms are settled, which will be to-morrow, or -perhaps even yet to-day, the girl will be delivered to her anxious and -loving uncle, none the worse for her little visit here, where she is -quite as safe as in your bed in the Rue du Chantre,” and she paused -again to catch her breath. “A day or two after that, M. Briquet will -have the honor of leading her to the altar, whither, since she believes -you dead, she will accompany him without resistance. And what a bride -she will make--so plump, so warm, so rosy, so adorable! Ah, how I envy -that happy man!” and she smacked her lips, like a glutton over a -choice morsel. - -I was pacing up and down the wall. I tore at my chain. In that moment, -I would have sold my soul to get my fingers about her neck--scraggy, -yellow, seamed--God, how I would have twisted it! - -“You hag!” I said between my teeth. “You shall burn in hell for this. -Pray God it may be I who send you there!” - -She was screaming with laughter. - -“Oh, oh,” she gasped, “that I should have lived to see this! And he was -going to kill me with that sword of his!” - -Again she was forced to stop, and sat for some minutes rocking back and -forth, shaking with laughter. - -I glared at her and cursed her. If there be merit in curses that come -from the very bottom of the soul, then is she damned eternally. - - - - -CHAPTER XI - -TORTURE - - -BUT this devil did not heed my curses. Perhaps she knew herself damned -already, and so feared God nor man. So, seeing her squatting laughing -there, my wrath choked itself out, and I stood silent, hot with hate. - -“Go on, Monsieur,” she screamed. “Do not stop, I beg of you. Oh, the -delight of this moment!” - -I bit my lips to keep them silent. That I, Pierre le Moyne, should be -here, a dupe, a gull, a puppet, a fool, a make-sport for this creature! - -“It is sublime,” she gasped, “this jest! Everything has played into -my hands so nicely, and at last it is to be my turn. I have waited -fifteen years for my turn, Monsieur, and now it has come. I think I -shall tell you. It is too good to keep to myself; and then, too, I know -the secret will be as safe with you as in the tomb,” and she paused to -laugh again. “Those two creatures of d’Argenson endeavored to learn -something about me, I’ll wager.” - -“Yes,” I said, “but they found very little.” - -“Mère Fouchon knows how to cover her steps,” and the woman chuckled -grimly. “The gendarmerie think themselves very acute, but there are -others who are sharper. How could they suspect that Mère Fouchon, -twenty years ago, was Madame Basarge, housekeeper for M. and Mme. -Charles Ribaut, and their brother, that very respectable M. Jacques -Ribaut, whom we both love so dearly?” - -She saw my look of dazed astonishment, and smiled again, still more -grimly. - -“It seems you do not understand,” she continued after a moment, -during which she seemed to be debating how much she should tell me. -Caution warned her to be silent; but the spirit of bravado held her -in its grip; a silence of many years clamored to be broken; the devil -in her urged her on, not to be denied. “After all,” she said, “what -harm in talking to a dead man? Listen attentively, then, Monsieur. It -was sixteen years ago, while I was employed in the Ribaut household, -that Madame Ribaut gave birth to a girl--that adorable Nanette whom -you already know. The mother died a week later, and the father soon -followed her. He was a good man, and so adored his wife that he found -life not worth living without her--just the opposite of most men! Ah, I -remember her so well--picture to yourself, Monsieur, a woman twice as -beautiful as this Nanette and with a soul like the Virgin’s--well, that -would be she. I have never seen another like her--if she had lived, -there might, perhaps, have been another story to tell.” - -She paused for a moment, and I gazed at her astounded. Her mouth was -working and her fingers clutching at the bosom of her dress--could it -be, after all, that this hell-hag had a heart? But she caught my eyes -and threw her emotion from her. - -“But she did not live,” she said, with an ugly laugh. “I am what I -am--there is no going back. Let me get on with the story. Charles -Ribaut was a good man, but his brother, Jacques--well, that they could -have been moulded in the same womb was a miracle--they were like black -and white, like night and day, like hell and heaven. His brother -was left to take care of the baby and to look after her fortune for -her--for her father was rich, oh, tremendously rich. She was sent off -to a convent for the good sisters to care for. The name on the sign -in front of the shop in the Rue des Moulins was altered from Charles -Ribaut to Jacques Ribaut. I was discharged, for it seems that he did -not wish to have any one near him who had known his brother. In ten -years no one remembered that such a man as Charles Ribaut had ever -existed. His brother was still taking care of his fortune, and as the -moment drew near when he knew he must part with it, the thought came to -him, why part with it at all? Clearly, there was only one thing which -could disturb his possession--that was the girl’s marriage. Her husband -would, of course, demand an accounting of her affairs.” - -She paused for a moment and looked at me. - -“Yes,” I nodded. “I begin to see.” - -“You will understand, then,” she continued, “that it was necessary for -Ribaut to find for the girl a husband who would not be too curious--who -would be satisfied with a dowry of twenty or thirty thousand crowns and -who would ask no questions. Such a husband was found in the person of a -certain M. Jean Briquet.” - -I shuddered as I recalled that hideous face. - -“I see you know him,” she chuckled. “He is beautiful, is he not?” - -“But how do you know all this?” I asked. - -She hesitated for a moment--but the temptation was too strong. And, -after all, what harm in talking to a dead man? - -“You have perhaps noticed, Monsieur,” she said at last, “that I do not -speak the argot of the sewers, and yet for ten years I was a part of -them. After leaving Ribaut, I made a mistake, a false step--no matter -what. It was necessary for me to remain concealed from the police. I -was no longer Mme. Basarge. I became Mère Fouchon, a consort of thieves -and drabs--a receiver of stolen goods--a thing of the night. Do you -fancy I relished it, Monsieur? At the end of ten years, I thought it -safe to emerge from the darkness. I became concierge of the house in -the Rue du Chantre, and dreamed of a day when I might regain my old -place in the world. I had been in hell, but I fancied I could drag -myself out.” - -Again she paused, and I looked at her with something like pity in my -heart. I could see what those ten years in the sewers of Paris had done -for her. D’Argenson’s theory, then, had been correct. - -“It was at that time I thought of applying to M. Ribaut,” she -continued. “I thought perhaps he might be willing to assist me. I did -not then suspect what a dog he was. But he raved at me like a madman, -and threatened to denounce me to the police should I ever again appear -before him. I began to suspect something. I made inquiries, but I could -find out nothing. His niece, they said, was at the Sacré Cœur getting -her education. Had she been home? No, no one had ever seen her. But I -saw her--the scrub-woman at the convent pointed her out to me. Indeed, -I did not need to have her pointed out--she was so like her mother, I -thought for a moment I was looking at a ghost, and grew quite faint. -But it passed, and I looked at her well and saw she was not happy. What -girl could be in that gray, cold, silent place? Ugh, it makes me shiver -to think of it! Even the sewers were better, for, after all, there -is life in the sewers, not always and always silence! But I did not -rest there. I made a friend of a concierge just across from the Ribaut -house, but she could tell me nothing. Was the girl coming home? She did -not know. Had she been betrothed? Well, there was a rumor that she was -destined for a certain M. Briquet, a great friend of her uncle’s. Then -in a flash I understood, Monsieur, for I had known M. Briquet, having -met him during those ten years spent in the darkness,” and she laughed -harshly. “His is not a pleasant character, though he has raised himself -out of the abyss.” - -I said nothing, fearing to interrupt this remarkable story. - -“But though I knew everything,” she went on after a moment, “I could do -nothing, as I had no wish to make the acquaintance of M. d’Argenson’s -men. It was not until I saw you enter the court of the Epée Flamboyante -with Mlle. Ribaut on your arm that I found a plan. Now, M. le Moyne, my -plan is working admirably. I hold the key to the situation. In a day or -two, Ribaut will come to terms. I will take my ten thousand crowns and -pouf!--there will no longer be a Mère Fouchon. I will go to Marseilles, -Bordeaux, Nice--anywhere away from this execrable Paris. I shall have -money--I shall live well--I shall no longer fear the police or a return -to the life of the Rue des Marmosets. I shall escape from hell, after -all.” - -“And what do you propose doing with me?” I asked. - -She looked at me a moment with glittering eyes, all her venom in her -face. - -“Ah, you, M. le Moyne. It is most unfortunate for you that you did not -remain contentedly in the Rue du Chantre instead of following the girl -here. You have put your head in the trap, and in the trap you stay. Out -of it, you would trouble me. You are too intimate with M. d’Argenson. -So, when I am ready to leave Paris, I shall close the outer door, -swing into place a certain slab of stone, and go away. That will be -the end. A century from now, perhaps, workmen will find a cavern under -the street. In the cavern will be a skeleton chained to the wall. They -can wonder as they please, but I’ll wager they’ll not guess the story. -Perhaps some one will make a very pretty romance of it. Think what an -honor, Monsieur! The hero of a romance!” - -Honor! Ah, well, this devil should not see I feared her. Besides, -was not the lieutenant of police my friend? He would learn from the -concierge whither I had gone. Doubtless he was already searching for me. - -So I laughed in her face. - -“You deceive yourself, Madame,” I said. “I have friends who know that -I came here. They will turn this whole quarter upside down but they -find me, and then you will be sent to ornament a gibbet at Bicetre.” - -She rocked back and forth, clasping her knees and leering into my face. - -“Find you?” she echoed. “Not soon, Monsieur; certainly not in time -to save you, unless the earth opens. The police have been this way, -and they have passed without finding a trace of you or of me. You -would never have discovered me, never have found a trace of me, had -I not opened the door that you might walk in. I saw my chance to be -revenged--and revenge is very sweet--so I opened the trap and in you -came! For you had not behaved nicely to me, Monsieur; you had looked -at me in a way that any woman would resent; you had spoken words to me -that were not to be forgiven. Well, you are in the trap, and you will -never get out. Do you fancy I would have taken the risk of sending for -that clothing had I not been certain I could laugh at the police?” - -She paused for breath. Now that the gates were opened, that silence of -fifteen years was being broken with a vengeance! - -“Nevertheless, they will find me,” I repeated resolutely. “You do not -know Monsieur d’Argenson.” - -“Do I not!” and she laughed horribly, with contorted face. “For fifteen -years has he been seeking me, yet he has never found me. Nor will he -ever find you, for you are well hidden, Monsieur; so well that Christ -may not find you at Judgment. That would be horrible--not to get your -reward for sleeping on the hard floor the other night, and leaving that -pretty girl to go, pucelle, to our friend, Bri----” - -But she did not finish, for, mad with rage, I caught from the floor the -vessel that had held the water, and dashed it full at her face. But -quick as a flash, she bent aside, and the dish crashed against the wall -behind her. - -She sat for a moment looking at me, a queer light in her eyes. - -“You love her, do you not, Monsieur?” she said quietly, at last. “Too -bad your fate should bring you here, for there is no way out.” - -No way out! There was a finality in her tone that chilled me. I sat -down again trembling, against the wall. - -“I bought the secret of this place at a price”--she paused, and -her features became frightful, “at a price of body and soul,” she -continued, hoarsely. “I had to have it--to save my life--I did not -hesitate. Now, it is serving me once more, Monsieur. When I leave it -to-morrow, for the last time, it will never again be opened.” - -I felt myself gazing, fascinated, over the edge of an abyss. - -“It is a very interesting place,” she went on, sneeringly. “The man of -whom I--bought it--had been a scholar before he became a brute--I think -it is your men of genius who fall the lowest when they fall--and he -told me about it one day. He said that at one time this little island -was all Paris, and that this cavern was hewn in the rock by some tyrant -who ruled here then--a queer name he had--I have forgotten. Its very -existence had been unknown for I know not how many centuries, until -this beast I tell you of chanced upon the secret of the entrance there. -A hundred men have eaten their hearts out, bound in that belt, sitting -just where you are sitting.” - -I shuddered at the thought. I felt that my blood was chilled, that my -manhood was slipping from me. - -“You will leave me here to starve, then?” I asked at last. - -“No, I will be merciful, Monsieur,” she answered. “I have no wish to -torture you. I am, in a way, sorry for you. Before I go I will place -by your side a cup of wine. You will drink the wine, and you will fall -into a pleasant sleep from which you will never awaken.” - -“Oh, you fiend!” I groaned, sick at the thought. “You fiend!” - -“I think you understand the situation now,” and she laughed harshly as -she arose to go. “Do you suppose for a moment that I will allow the -life of one man or of twenty men to stand between me and success? Do -you suppose I would go back to the Rue des Marmosets--to the life that -was a living hell--for anything on earth? I was so sure that you must -die--that I could not with safety spare you, even if I so desired--that -I have thrown into the Seine the key of the lock at your belt. That -belt is there to stay, Monsieur, until it rots away.” - -She picked up her lantern and took a step towards the door. - -“I will tell you one thing more, Monsieur,” she added, pausing, “that -you may guess what my life has been. The drink which I will give you -is one that I have kept by me for fifteen years. I preferred that death -to the wheel--yes, a thousand times. But I shall no longer have need of -it, Monsieur, so I give it to you. You see that I am generous.” - -She laughed again, and in a moment the door swung shut behind her and I -was left alone in the darkness. - - - - -CHAPTER XII - -A CHILD OF THE NIGHT - - -I SAT for a long time, dazed and desperate, my head in my hands, my -heart cold within me. It seemed that the last shred of my courage had -been stripped from me. I was never again to see the trees nor the blue -sky, or bare my head to the good sunshine. I was never again to lie in -the grass and gaze up, up, through the heavens at the bright stars. I -was never again to feel on my face the sweet breath of the south wind. -I thought of the deep, placid Midouze, of the wide fields, of the dark -forest, with the wild-flowers nestling in its depths. I thought of my -mother, of my sister, of Nanette--I was never again to see Nanette--to -hold her hand--to gaze into her eyes--she was to become prey to a -monstrous appetite--ah, Christ!--my very soul trembled within me. She -had called me--in terror and despair, she had called me--and I had not -come! Instead, I had rushed headlong into this trap. I had played the -fool! If I, alone, were to suffer I might endure it, but that she -should suffer too---- - -But the mood passed, the throbbing in my brain subsided, stark fear hid -its face. I shook myself together. After all, I was not yet dead, and -so might yet escape. Still, the more I pondered the situation, the more -remote did any chance of escape appear. I saw no way of accomplishing -even the first step towards freedom, that of loosening myself from the -chain which held me to the wall, and even were that done, I dared not -think of the difficulties I must still encounter before I should be -free. And yet I could not believe it was to be my fate to die here, -chained to the wall, like a rat in a trap. - -I heard the door opening again, and I stared in amazement at the queer -figure that entered, carrying in one hand a candle and in the other a -plate of food. It was a girl with legs grotesquely bowed, and in an -instant I recognized the child I had rescued on the Quai des Théatins. -At the same moment, the light from the candle fell upon my face, and -she knew me. - -“You!” she cried. “You! Oh, my God!” and she let fall the candle and -plate upon the floor, her legs seemed to give way beneath her, and she -sat rocking herself helplessly, despair writ large upon her face. - -I stared at her a moment astounded, understanding nothing of her -emotion. Then the words she had uttered, blushing, on the quay, came -back to me--words called forth, perhaps, by the first touch of kindness -she had ever known---- - -“I think--I should like you--very much, Monsieur!” - -I looked at her again, and a ray of hope came to me. Perhaps in this -unfortunate creature I might find an ally. - -“Come,” I said, “this is not the way to help me, to spill my supper. I -assure you, Mademoiselle, that I am very hungry.” - -She gathered up the bread and meat without a word and gave them to -me. I went at them vigorously and without minding the fact that -some particles of dirt from the floor still clung to them. She set -the candle upright beside her and watched me with eyes dark with -apprehension. As I looked at her a thought suddenly occurred to me. - -“Was it you,” I asked, “who went to the house in the Rue du Chantre to -get Mère Fouchon’s clothing?” - -“Yes, Monsieur,” she said. - -“And you were on your way there when I picked you up on the quay?” - -“Yes, Monsieur.” - -I smiled grimly as I reflected on the extraordinary chance which had -taken me there just in time to save her life. - -Suddenly she burst into a flood of tears. - -“Oh, you smile!” she sobbed. “You do not understand, then. You do not -know that you are to be left here, after we are gone, and that no one -will ever find you.” - -“Oh, yes, I have been told so,” I answered, “but I do not believe it.” - -She raised her head and looked at me fixedly. - -“You mean you will escape?” she asked, after a moment. - -I nodded and smiled again. - -“Oh, but you do not know,” she cried. “A man could not escape from here -if he had the strength of a hundred men.” - -“Nevertheless,” I began, but the hoarse voice of Mère Fouchon -interrupted me. - -“La Bancale,” she cried, “come here at once, and be sure to bolt the -door after you.” - -“I must go,” she said. “I will do what I can, Monsieur.” - -I watched her as she went. So she was called La Bancale, the -bandy-legged, and my eyes were wet with tears as I thought of what her -life had been--of what it yet must be. She would do all she could, she -had said, and yet what could she accomplish? She was so frail, so weak. -Still, for a moment, I felt more hopeful. To a drowning man, even a -straw is welcome. Besides, she was not without her shrewdness--witness -how she had doubled on her tracks to prevent pursuit, and had finally -evaded her pursuer. Or was it really a trap that had been set for me, -and into which I had walked blindly? - -The problem was too great a one for my wit to solve, for my head was -paining me again severely. It was no light blow that had been given me, -and I wondered that it had not crushed my skull. I could feel that the -blood had soaked through my hair and dried about my face, but I had no -way of removing it. The air of the cellar seemed foul and close; I was -shivering with the cold and damp. At last, in sheer exhaustion, my head -fell forward and I slept. - -A touch on the arm awakened me. I opened my eyes, but could see nothing. - -“Are you here, Monsieur?” a voice whispered. “Speak to me.” - -“I was asleep,” I said. “Is it thou, La Bancale?” - -“Oh, do not call me by that hideous name,” she sobbed. - -“What shall I call you, then, my dear?” - -“Anything, anything you like, Monsieur, only not that.” - -“But have you no other name? Surely, you were not always called that!” - -“Always, Monsieur,” she sobbed. “Ever since I can remember.” - -Poor child! And she might have been a girl, happy like any other! - -“Let me see,” I said, “I will call you Ninon. I have a sister named -Ninon. I am sure you would love her.” - -“I am sure of it also, if she is your sister, Monsieur,” she answered -softly. - -“How does it happen that you are here?” I asked, vaguely troubled by -the tone of her voice. “Where is Mère Fouchon?” - -“She went away just now, and as she said she was going to the Rue des -Moulins she cannot be back for an hour at least.” - -“To the Rue des Moulins?” I cried. “Oh, I must escape!” and I sprang to -my feet and tugged at my chain in an ecstasy of rage. “Ninon,” I said -suddenly, “could you not step into the street and say two words to a -gendarme about my being here?” - -“Alas, Monsieur,” she answered, “I am as much a prisoner as yourself. -Mère Fouchon always locks me in when she leaves the house.” - -I groaned aloud and could hear her sobbing. - -“Come,” I said, mastering myself at the end of a moment, “this will not -do. We must be brave. Cease crying, Ninon, and sit here beside me.” - -She did as I bade, and as I passed my arm about her and drew her to me, -I felt her body trembling and shaken by sobs. My lips quivered with -pity as I perceived how thin she was. - -“Now,” I said, “we are comfortable. Place your head against my -shoulder--so. How old are you, Ninon?” - -“I do not know, Monsieur.” - -“Pierre is my name,” I said. - -“I do not know how old I am, M. Pierre,” and it seemed to me that her -voice dwelt lovingly on the word. - -“And is Mère Fouchon your mother?” - -“I do not know that, either, M. Pierre. Only----” and she hesitated. - -“Only what, Ninon? Tell me; do not be afraid.” - -“Only I hope that she is not my mother, because I hate her.” - -“She has not been kind to you then, Ninon?” - -“Kind to me!” and I felt her shudder. “Ah, if you knew, Monsieur! The -beatings--the nights and days spent here in this cavern--sometimes I -thought she would kill me. If she were my mother, she would not hate me -so, would she, Monsieur?” - -I held her closer to me with aching heart. - -“No, she would not hate you if she were your mother, Ninon; she would -love you. I am sure she is not your mother. Have you always lived here?” - -“Always, Monsieur. After she became concierge, I remained here, and she -came home every night.” - -“She did not sleep at the Rue du Chantre, then?” - -“No, never, Monsieur. Always here.” - -I smiled grimly to myself at this proof that the hag had been lying to -me on the night she tripped over my legs in the hallway. - -“And she has never told you anything about yourself?” I continued after -a moment. - -“Never, Monsieur.” - -“But you have asked her to tell you, have you not, Ninon?” - -“Oh, yes, Monsieur, many times.” - -“And how did she answer?” - -“With a beating, M. Pierre.” - -I drew her closer to me and gathered both her hands into my own. - -“Perhaps it will not be always so,” I said gently. “Perhaps some day -there will be people who will love you and who will try to make you -happy.” - -She was sobbing against my shoulder, her hands clutching at me -nervously. - -“You would go with me, Ninon, would you not,” I asked, “if I escaped -from here?” - -“Oh, yes, M. Pierre,” she sobbed. “I would go with you anywhere.” - -“That is right,” I said, and I bent and kissed her forehead. “But -first, I must escape, and in order to escape, I must be rid of this -chain. Do you think you could find me a file, Ninon?” - -“A file? I do not know, Monsieur. I will try. But I must go. She will -soon be returning,” and she drew herself away. “If I can find a file, I -will bring it to you, M. Pierre,” and a moment later, I heard the door -close behind her. - - - - -CHAPTER XIII - -A NIGHT OF AGONY - - -I SAT for a long time pondering over the unhappy fate of this child. -What her story had been I could only guess. Stolen, doubtless, by this -devil in whose care she was--brought up, certainly, in the midst of -filth and shame; stunted, tortured, misshapen--until she had become a -mere fungus of humanity, growing only in the dark, without blood or -healthy vigor--a hideous travesty upon girlhood and womanhood. The -horror and sadness of the thing moved me strangely--yet had I not seen -a thousand such during those hours I had spent in the slums? - -But Ninon--would she bear transplanting into other soil? I doubted it, -yet it seemed to me that death itself were preferable a thousand times -to such a life as this. At least, God willing, I would make the trial. - -So the hours dragged on. Sometimes I dozed; more often I sat plunged in -gloomy thought, trying in vain to work out the problem of escape. At -last the door opened again, and Ninon brought me another plate of meat -and a can of water. - -“I know where there is a file, M. Pierre,” she whispered, as she set -them down. “I will try to get it when Mère Fouchon goes out again.” - -I pressed her hand for answer, and was glad that I had said nothing, -for at that moment the woman herself appeared at the door with her -lantern. She motioned the girl to leave, and herself sat down on the -dirt-heap opposite me. - -I looked at her with astonishment, for her eyes were gleaming and her -withered face was distorted with a malignant joy. - -“Well, Monsieur,” she said after a moment, “it seems that I must take -leave of you sooner than I had thought.” - -“And why?” I asked, with a sinking heart. - -“My business is finished,” she answered. “Ribaut was more reasonable -than I had hoped. I regret that I did not ask for twenty thousand -crowns instead of ten. Ah, there was a pretty scene! You should have -seen him--you who love him no more than I. It warmed my heart. He -raved; he swore. He foamed at the mouth, his face grew purple, just as -though he were about to have a fit. But he calmed down when he found -me inexorable. The girl was cheap at the price, and he knew it. So we -soon came to terms.” - -“He has paid you the money, then?” - -“He will do so in the morning.” - -“And you have given him back his niece?” - -She laughed harshly. - -“What do you take me for, Monsieur?” she asked. “A fool? No, no. M. -Ribaut will get his niece ten minutes after he has given me the money!” - -I could find nothing to say, but sat looking at her in dazed -bewilderment and despair. - -“It is all arranged,” she continued. “At six o’clock I am to receive -ten thousand crowns, in return for which I turn over to him this pretty -Nanette. Then I say good-by to Paris and to Mère Fouchon. Ah, do not -fear; I shall not forget you, Monsieur. I have the dose here,” and she -drew a little vial from the bosom of her dress. “When the door has -closed for the last time, Monsieur, I should advise you to drink it at -once. It is the easiest way, much pleasanter than starving.” - -Still I said nothing. - -“Ah, I forgot one thing,” she added, pausing as she turned to go. “At -nine o’clock to-morrow morning at the church of St. Landry there will -be a ceremony, Monsieur--such a charming ceremony. Can you not guess -what? Well, I will tell you. At this ceremony, that pretty little -Nanette, whom you love so much, will be transformed into Mme. Jean -Briquet.” - -I dashed at her with an oath, but the chain jerked me back against the -wall. She stood for a moment and laughed at me. - -“You see now, Monsieur, do you not, how much wiser it will be to drain -that little vial without delay? Suppose you play the coward--suppose -you are alive at nine o’clock--you here in this hole, looking death in -the face--this enchanting Nanette before the altar looking into the -face of her husband! Bah!” and she made a sudden grimace. “I think I -should prefer your part, Monsieur. Death itself must be less hideous -than Jean Briquet. All the same,” she added, “you will do well to drink -with a steady hand--you will find it a pleasant death--a dropping to -sleep, sweet dreams, and then--darkness. I know. I have seen others, -happy, smiling, sink into the abyss. I will have La Bancale give it to -you in the morning,” and she was gone. - -I sank down against the wall, dazed at this new stroke of fortune. Give -me a day, two days, and escape might be possible--but the bargain had -been made; in a few hours it would be too late. - -How long I lay there in a half-stupor I do not know, but at last I -heard the door open again and Ninon’s voice whispering my name. I -groaned for reply. - -“Oh, M. Pierre,” she whispered, bending over me, “I have the file. Here -is the file.” - -“The file!” I cried. “Oh, give it me, Ninon! There is not a moment to -lose.” - -She placed her trembling hand in mine and gave me the file. I ran my -fingers over it. It was old, rusty, dull--but it had been a good file, -once; doubtless part of some long-dead burglar’s kit--would it do the -work? In an agony of haste I ran my hand along the chain until I found -what seemed the weakest link, and set to work upon it. At the end of a -few minutes I found I had made a scratch in the iron, and hope began to -revive in my heart. The sound of sobbing startled me. - -“Is it you, Ninon?” I whispered. “Forgive me, my dear; I had forgot to -thank you.” - -“Oh, it is not that, M. Pierre,” she sobbed. “It is not that!” - -“Here, sit beside me,” I said. “Let me put my arm around you--so. Now, -tell me what it is.” - -She was silent a moment, and I could feel her little body quivering. - -“Oh, M. Pierre,” she whispered at last, “I heard all that Mère Fouchon -said this afternoon,” and I raised my hand to her face to find it wet -with tears. - -“Well,” I said, “what then, Ninon?” - -“And do you love her so very much, this Nanette?” - -“Yes, very much, Ninon.” - -“Enough to die for her, perhaps?” - -“Oh, yes,” I answered. “To die for her were nothing, Ninon.” - -“That is right, M. Pierre,” she whispered, and her voice was shaking. -“That is the way to love. I have seen her. She is pretty, oh, so -pretty, even though her eyes were red with weeping. Tell me, M. Pierre, -must one be pretty to be loved?” - -“Oh, no, Ninon,” I said. “One needs only to be good. You are good, -Ninon, and there will be somebody some day who will love you and who -will make you happy.” - -She said nothing for a moment, as though pondering this answer. - -“No, there never will be any one, M. Pierre,” she said at last, with -a little sigh. “But this Nanette--ah, she is adorable. She heard your -voice when you came in that night, calling her name. She thinks you -dead, M. Pierre. They have told her that you are dead, that you were -killed that night. I believe she loves you also, she has wept so much.” - -“Oh, if I am only in time,” I said, trembling with apprehension, and I -picked up my chain again. - -“Yes, I will go,” said the girl; and then, “will you do something for -me, M. Pierre?” - -“You have only to name it, Ninon.” - -“Kiss me good-by, Monsieur. You may not have time in the morning.” - -“But I am coming back for you, Ninon,” I cried. “It is not good-by. You -are to live with us always.” - -“No, no,” and she was sobbing again. “That cannot be. I am not of your -world, Monsieur. I am of the darkness. I could not bear the light. I -am hideous, Monsieur--I know it.” - -“Come here, Ninon,” I whispered. “I will kiss you good-night, not -good-by. You shall be pretty, Ninon, when you live surrounded by our -love, as you are going to live.” - -She pressed her lips to mine, and then went away, still sobbing softly. -As the door closed, I set to work again at my chain, knowing that no -sound I might make could penetrate those massive walls. The hours -passed, my hands were torn and bleeding, but still I urged the file -back and forth across the iron. The cut in the link was slowly growing -deeper--but, oh, so slowly. At last it was almost through, and I paused -from sheer exhaustion. My brain was reeling and my hands were shaking -like those of a man with palsy. I laid my head back against the wall -and closed my eyes. Tired nature conquered and I fell asleep. - -“Oh, M. Pierre,” cried a voice in my ear, “you have slept!” - -I opened my eyes with a start. It was Ninon, this time with a lantern. - -“You have slept!” she cried again. “You have not severed the chain. It -is morning, and you will be too late!” - -“Too late, yes, too late!” I cried. “And all because of my accursed -weakness!” and I picked up my chain and tore at it like a madman. - -“She has gone away,” cried Ninon. “She said she would be back in an -hour. She took Nanette with her. When she returns we are to leave -Paris.” - -I groaned. My hands were trembling so I could not control them. I tried -to pick up the file and found that I could not hold it. - -“It is too late,” I groaned. “Did she tell you to give me a vial, -Ninon?” - -“Yes, yes,” she cried. “Here it is,” and she held it up. - -“Give it to me,” I said, and reached for it. - -“What is it, M. Pierre?” she asked, springing back, her eyes large with -terror. - -“No matter,” I answered. “Give it me, Ninon. It is the easiest way.” - -“No, no! Be a man, Monsieur! Oh, you are a man--such a brave man!” and -she raised the vial and dashed it against the wall. It broke with a -little crash. The liquid trickled down over the stones and filled the -cell with a pleasant, sweetish odor. - -“Give me the file,” she said, and took it from my palsied hand. “Do not -despair, Monsieur, there is yet time,” and she was filing away at the -chain with all her little strength. “Oh, I was wrong to say you slept. -See, it is almost through. In half an hour it will be quite through, -and you will be free.” - -Back and forth the file went. I watched her stupidly, and saw without -understanding it that her hands turned red and that the chain was wet -with blood. - -“Think of Nanette, M. Pierre,” she said, looking up for a moment into -my eyes. “Think of Nanette, that dear Nanette, whom you are going to -rescue presently--whom you are going to make so happy.” - -I was sobbing wildly, out of sheer weakness. - -“Hasten!” I whispered. “Oh, hasten, Ninon!” - -She sprang to her feet with a little cry of triumph. - -“It is done!” she cried. “The chain is through. Take hold here, -Monsieur. Now pull. Pull with all your might. Ah!” - -The chain was broken, I staggered towards the outer door like a drunken -man. - -“Free!” I muttered to myself. “Free!” and I reeled through the door -into the outer room. - -Ninon was beside me, her finger on her lips, her face white with fear. - -“Hush,” she whispered. “I hear footsteps. She is returning. Perhaps -there are others with her. In here, quick,” and before I could resist, -even if in my great weakness I had thought of resistance, she pushed me -into a little closet, just as Mère Fouchon unlocked the outer door and -entered. - - - - -CHAPTER XIV - -GREATER LOVE THAN MINE - - -I LEANED against the wall of the little closet in which I was, and -looked out through the half-opened door into the room. I saw that Mère -Fouchon carried in her arms a leathern bag, which she placed upon the -table with a sigh of relief at being rid of its weight. - -“Come, make ready,” she said to the girl, “the wagon will be here in a -moment. Did you give our friend the bottle?” - -As she turned, she perceived that the door of my cell was open. She -sprang to it, cast one look within and saw by the light of the lantern -that it was empty. - -“He is gone!” she screamed, and turned her glaring eyes and working -face upon the girl. “You drab, it was with your help!” - -Doubtless in that instant she saw her plans crumbling about her, she -felt the meshes of the law tightening, at the end of the path loomed -the black gibbet. This time she would not escape! Small wonder that -the blood leaped to her eyes, as she stood there trembling, strangled -by rage, unable to speak! - -Then the bonds loosened and she sprung upon the girl like a cat upon -its prey. - -“Curse you!” she screamed. “You shall pay for it--you!” and she -snatched a knife from the table. - -In an instant, my strength and manhood came back to me, and I dashed -open the door. - -“You devil!” I said between my teeth. “You devil!” and I was upon her. - -Even as I grasped her hair, she raised the knife and plunged it deep -into the girl’s breast. I dragged back her head, dashed my fist into -her face and threw her against the wall with all my strength. She -struck with a dull crash, rebounded to the floor and lay there with -closed eyes, the blood oozing from her nose and mouth, her red knife -still in her hand. - -“Pray heaven, I have killed you!” I said, and stooped and raised Ninon -in my arms. - -She opened her eyes and gazed at me with a smile of ineffable -sweetness. - -“It is better so,” she whispered. “I was not of your world, M. Pierre, -and now I shall not have to live when you are gone.” - -The hot tears were on my cheeks as I looked at her, and she raised her -hand to my face with a gesture of tenderness inexpressible. - -“Are those tears for me?” she asked. “Oh, how glad I am that you care -enough to weep! I am not sorry to die. I had never dreamed that I -should have the joy of dying in your arms like this, with your dear -eyes looking down upon me. And you will soon dry your tears, M. Pierre, -when you look upon another face more beautiful--oh, a thousand times -more beautiful than mine.” - -I opened my mouth, but could not speak. I felt her body stiffening in -my arms. - -“You told me,” she whispered, “that you loved her enough to die for -her, M. Pierre. But I love you more than that--oh, so much more than -that! I love you enough to give you to another, M. Pierre--to die that -she may possess you.” - -She gazed at me a moment longer, then her eyes slowly closed, her lips -parted in a sigh that bore her spirit with it. I was sobbing wildly as -I laid the little form reverently upon the pallet in one corner and -turned to go. As I did so I fancied I saw Mère Fouchon move. - -“So you are not dead,” I said, speaking aloud as though she could -hear me. “Well, you shall not escape,” and catching her by the arm, -I dragged her within the cell and shut the door. As I pushed it into -place, I saw that by swinging back two slabs of stone, the door was -masked, and the wall of the cellar was apparently unbroken. I trembled -as I thought what my fate would have been had Mère Fouchon thrown those -stones into place and gone away. - -As I turned again into the outer room my eyes fell upon the bag which -she had placed on the table. I opened it and was astonished to find it -full of gold. I understood in a moment. It was the price Ribaut had -paid for Nanette. - -“Come,” I said, “I will take this with me. It will be proof of my -story.” - -I left the room and found myself at the foot of a flight of stairs -which led to a hallway above. Following this, I came to a room which I -recognized as that which I had entered sword in hand in pursuit of Mère -Fouchon. As I stepped into it, I heard some one knocking at the outer -door. I flung it open, and saw outside a man who shrank back in alarm -as his eyes fell upon me. A cart was standing in the street. - -“Ah, it is the driver,” I cried. “Come, my friend, you are to take me -to the Palais Royal as quickly as possible.” - -“I came for a woman, not for a madman!” he protested. - -“I am no madman,” I said. “Come,” and I opened my bag and gave him a -louis. “This will pay you for your trouble.” - -“Where is the woman?” he asked. - -“She no longer has need of you.” - -He looked at me a moment with staring eyes. - -“Monsieur,” he said at last, “a crime has been committed here.” - -“I do not deny it,” I answered, “only it is not I who have committed -it. Why, man, I want you to take me to M. d’Argenson at the Palais -Royal. Do you think I should go there, if I had committed a crime?” - -“To M. d’Argenson?” he repeated. “Ah, ah--that is different. Come, -Monsieur, I will take you,” and he sprang into his cart. I was beside -him ere the words were spoken. - -“Make haste!” I cried, and leaned against the side of the cart, sick -with apprehension. If I should be too late! - -He whipped his horse into a run and we bumped rapidly along the street -and across the river to the quays. Here the crowd delayed us and we -could proceed but slowly. At last we reached a side-street and turned -into it at a gallop. In a moment we had crossed the Rue St. Honoré and -were at the Palais Royal. I sprang from the wagon and up the steps into -the ante-chamber just as the clocks were striking eight. I ran straight -to the man who stood at the inner door. - -“Tell M. d’Argenson that M. le Moyne is here to make his report and -that it is important,” I panted. - -He stared at me a moment in amazement and then disappeared through the -door. In an instant he was back. - -“You are to enter, Monsieur,” he said, and closed the door behind me. - -D’Argenson was seated at his table, and he gazed at me in astonishment. - -“Good God, M. le Moyne,” he cried, “what has happened to you?” - -Not until that moment did I realize the strangeness of my -appearance--my hair matted with blood, my clothing torn and filthy, an -iron belt around my waist from which dangled a chain a foot long, my -doublet red with Ninon’s blood. I did not wonder that the carter had -believed me a madman, or that he had scented a crime. - -Briefly as possible I told my story, d’Argenson listening in silence -to the end. As I finished, he struck a bell at his elbow. The usher -entered instantly. - -“My carriage at once,” he said, “and send two men to a house in the Rue -du Chevet of which they will see the street door open. They will find -an old woman lying in the inner portion of the cellar, and will lodge -her at once in the conciergerie.” - -The man bowed and withdrew. D’Argenson picked up the bag of money -which I had placed on the table before him, and after a glance at its -contents, threw it into a drawer, which he locked. - -“The wedding, you say, is to take place at nine o’clock?” he asked. - -“Yes, Monsieur, at the Church of St. Landry.” - -“Ah, well, we shall be there,” and d’Argenson smiled, “and I fancy we -shall have a little surprise for M. Ribaut and M. Briquet. I do not -think that Mère Fouchon, or Mme. Basarge, will ever trouble you again, -Monsieur. Her hour has struck.” - - - - -CHAPTER XV - -TO THE CHURCH OF ST. LANDRY - - -THERE was a tone in his voice that made me tremble. I realized that -this man could be terrible, inexorable upon occasion. I had good cause -to hate the woman, but, God knows, I pitied her now. - -“Her hour has struck,” repeated d’Argenson. “She has lived fifteen -years too long already. She has cheated the gallows, but the gallows -will claim its own.” - -I questioned him with my eyes. - -“She called it a mistake, you told me--that was a gentle name for it. I -remember it very well, for this mistake was one of the most horrible of -the first year of my administration. The police was not organized then -as it is now, or she would not have escaped us.” - -“And what was this mistake, Monsieur?” I questioned. - -“It is a pretty story,” he said musingly. “There is not time to tell -it now as it should be told--but, in a word, this woman, after she -left Ribaut, secured a place with a pastry-cook named Durand, in the -Rue Auxerois. He was wealthy and she seems to have conceived a passion -for him. One morning his wife was found dead in bed. He welcomed the -release, perhaps, but he did not look twice at Madame Basarge. Instead, -he married again, this time a pretty girl from Orleans, which had -been his home. One day, the pastry-shop did not open. The neighbors -became alarmed and burst in the door. They found Durand and his wife -in bed. They had been dead for hours, and their purple flesh proved -they had been poisoned. Madame Basarge was missing. So was Durand’s -little daughter. We found out afterwards that the woman had learned her -infamous art from one of the disciples of the Widow Montvoisin.” - -He paused, and his face grew stern. - -“You can conceive, Monsieur, how I searched for that woman. I had just -come to the office. I felt personally responsible--my reputation seemed -at stake. But we found not a trace of her. She descended into depths -from which even the police recoiled. But I have waited. I knew that -fate would deliver her to me. I am prepared.” - -He turned to a case of papers at his side, and after a moment’s search, -drew out one, opened it, and glanced over it. - -“There was no question of her guilt,” he continued, after a moment, -“and a decree of death was issued against her. I hold it here in my -hand. There need be no further delay in its execution.” - -He folded the paper again, and sat for a time, tapping it against the -table. - -“That woman is a genius,” he said, at last. “I admire her. She baffled -us so completely. Your concierge told my men he had sent you to the Rue -du Chevet, and we scoured the quarter from top to bottom, but could -find no trace of you. It is not often my men fail, M. le Moyne, but how -were they to suspect the existence of a cavern thirty feet underground? -I must see it for myself, some day. And the girl--well, we found no -trace of the girl, either, nor of Madame Basarge, nor of this gamine -you say she had with her--they must have had another hiding-place.” - -But my brain was busy with another problem. - -“You said, M. le Comte,” I began, “that a daughter of the confectioner -Durand was missing. Was she ever found?” - -“She was never found. Ah, I see,” and he looked at me suddenly. “This -gamine--how old was she?” - -I shook my head. - -“I do not know, Monsieur. She might have been -fifteen--twenty--twenty-five--she was old enough to love.” - -“Well,” he cried, “I venture the guess that it was Durand’s daughter. -The woman’s object in stealing the child always puzzled me, but now I -understand--she wanted some one upon whom she might wreak her hatred.” - -That was it--in a flash I saw it. Some one upon whom to wreak her -hatred--some one to torture! Ah, Ninon, what a fate was yours! - -The opening of the door brought me from my thoughts, and I turned to -see an attendant enter. - -“Your carriage is waiting, M. le Comte,” he announced. - -“Very well,” cried d’Argenson, springing to his feet and seizing his -cloak and hat. “I am going with you myself, M. le Moyne, for I am -curious to witness this little coup de théâtre. It is not often that -I give myself a treat of this kind,” and he led the way into the -ante-chamber. “Here, Bernin,” he called to an officer who was standing -there, “you will deliver this order to the jailer of the conciergerie -at once,” and he handed him the paper containing the sentence of Mère -Fouchon. Her hour had struck, indeed! “Come with me, Monsieur,” he -added to me and led the way rapidly down the steps and to the carriage. - -“We have ample time,” he said, as the carriage started. “It is yet -twenty minutes of nine o’clock. I imagine that these good people whom -we are going to surprise will believe they see a ghost when you appear -before them,” he added, with a smile. “Upon my word, I doubt if even -the charming Nanette will know you. You are enough to frighten a woman -half to death.” - -“There was no time,” I said, “or I should have changed my garments.” - -“No, no,” cried d’Argenson, “I would not have one speck of dirt less. -Believe me, with that bloody head, those torn hands, those filthy -clothes, those haggard eyes--and above everything, with that belt of -iron about your waist--you are admirable!” - -He looked at me in silence for a moment, as the carriage rolled along -the Rue St. Honoré. - -“M. le Moyne,” he said suddenly, “I need not tell you we have no proof -that there is really a conspiracy between Ribaut and Briquet?” - -“No proof, Monsieur?” I stammered, for I had believed the way quite -clear. - -“No proof whatever,” repeated d’Argenson. “Nothing but the suspicions -of an old woman, which there is little chance of confirming. There -are, of course, many things which point in the same direction--the -pertinacity of Ribaut, his willingness to sacrifice ten thousand crowns -in order that the marriage might take place, his terror when you -threatened a police investigation, the apparent unfitness of Briquet, -the hint that he was once a thief or worse--all these indicate that -Mère Fouchon’s theory is the right one. Still there is no proof. Not a -single suspicious circumstance has been unearthed by my agents.” - -“You will permit the wedding to take place, then?” I cried in despair. -“You will do nothing to prevent it?” - -“Rest assured, Monsieur,” said d’Argenson, kindly, “that I will do -everything in my power to prevent it. For I believe that a conspiracy -does exist, even though I have no proof of it. The facts stated by Mère -Fouchon had already been ascertained by my agents. Charles Ribaut left -a very large fortune; his daughter Anne is the only heir, her uncle has -had absolute control of the estate for fifteen years. But in all of -this there is nothing which resembles a conspiracy, even in the least -degree. It is quite possible that he intends turning the whole fortune -over to Briquet.” - -“What then will you do, Monsieur?” I questioned anxiously. - -“There is only one thing to be done,” he answered. “We will assume a -bold front. We will act as though we held great forces in reserve. We -will endeavor to frighten them. It is an old trick, but one which is -often successful with the guilty. Let us hope it will be so in this -case.” - -We were crossing the Pont au Change, and I looked out upon the river -with eyes that saw nothing. I had thought success so certain, and -now, it seemed, I might yet lose! I raised my eyes to find d’Argenson -looking at me with a smile whose meaning I did not understand. - -“M. le Moyne,” he said, “I am going to ask you a question which you -need not answer if you do not choose.” - -“What is it, Monsieur?” I asked. - -“It is concerning Mlle. Ribaut. I have reason to believe that you love -her. Is it not so, Monsieur?” - -“That is so, M. le Comte,” I replied, and my hands were trembling. - -“I am glad to hear it,” he said, and fell into a reverie, smiling to -himself. It was not until we stopped before the church that he spoke -again. - -“Here we are,” he cried, “and with still ten minutes to spare. Come -with me,” and we left the carriage and entered the church. An old man -met us at the door and cast an astonished glance at me. - -“Are you the sacristan?” asked d’Argenson. - -“Yes, Monsieur,” answered the fellow. - -“There is to be a wedding here at nine o’clock, is there not?” - -“I do not know, Monsieur. There has already been one wedding here at -eight o’clock.” - -My heart fell within me. Could it be that the hour had been changed? - -“What were their names?” asked d’Argenson sharply. - -“The man was named Brujon,” answered the sacristan. “I do not remember -the woman’s name.” - -I breathed again. We were still in time. - -“Very well,” said d’Argenson. “I will see the curé and find out about -this other marriage.” - -“Pardon, Monsieur,” protested the man, “but the curé is very busy.” - -“You will tell him,” said d’Argenson grimly, “that the Comte -d’Argenson, lieutenant of police, wishes to speak to him and at once.” - -The fellow’s face turned livid and he bowed to the ground. - -“Oh, M. d’Argenson,” he stammered, “that is another matter. Follow me, -Messieurs, and I will conduct you to the curé.” - -He led the way along a side aisle to the sacristy at the rear. He -tapped at the door, and a voice bidding us enter, he opened it and -ushered us in. The curé was sitting at a table writing. - -“This is M. le Comte d’Argenson, M. le Curé,” said the sacristan, and -went out, closing the door after him. - -The curé looked at us with alarmed and astonished eyes. - -“This is an honor,” he said, at last. “Will you not sit down, -Messieurs?” - -“M. le Curé,” began d’Argenson abruptly, “you are to celebrate a -marriage here at nine o’clock, are you not?” - -“Yes, Monsieur. A M. Briquet and a niece of M. Ribaut. It was to have -taken place a week ago, but was postponed by the illness of the bride.” - -“That is it. Well, M. le Curé, this wedding must not take place, since -it is believed to be a conspiracy to defraud the girl.” - -“A conspiracy, Monsieur?” gasped the curé. - -“Yes, a conspiracy. Will you require any further proof of it?” - -“Not if I have your word, M. d’Argenson,” answered the curé, readily. - -D’Argenson hesitated a moment. - -“M. le Curé,” he said, at last, “I will tell you candidly that we have -no absolute proof of this conspiracy. For myself I do not doubt that it -exists. In any event, I will assume all responsibility in the matter.” - -The curé bowed. - -“I will also assume full responsibility for anything that follows,” -added d’Argenson. “What I may ask you to do will be somewhat irregular, -Monsieur, but, believe me, it will be just.” - -“M. d’Argenson’s assurance is more than sufficient,” and the curé -bowed again. “His passion for justice is well known.” - -Who could think of opposing the Lieutenant of Police--this man who -carried all before him? Certainly not the curé of a small church! - -“I will tell you one thing more, Monsieur,” he added. “This girl has -not been ill--she has been imprisoned. She will come to the altar faint -and trembling, not from illness, but from horror. We are here to save -her. I do not wish the parties to be forewarned. We will challenge them -at the altar. A great deal will depend upon the completeness of the -surprise.” - -“Very well, Monsieur.” - -“Is there any place in which we could remain concealed?” - -“You could pause behind the tapestry at the doorway, Monsieur. From -there you could hear and see everything.” - -A tap at the door interrupted him and, at his bidding, the sacristan -entered. - -“A wedding-party waiting for you, Monsieur,” he announced to the curé. - -“Very well,” said the latter, “I will be there in a moment.” The -sacristan withdrew and the curé donned his stole and surplice. “Now, -follow me, Messieurs,” and he led the way to the door opening into the -church, before which hung a tapestry. “You will be concealed here,” he -said, and raising the tapestry, he entered the church and stood before -the altar. - - - - -CHAPTER XVI - -M. D’ARGENSON’S COUP - - -MY head was singing strangely as I stared out into the church, and a -great trembling seized me, for I was faint from loss of sleep, of food, -of blood--of everything, in a word, that makes life. I heard myself -praying wildly to the Virgin, the building seemed to rock before my -eyes--and then I felt a strong and kindly hand upon my shoulder. - -“Be brave, M. le Moyne,” said d’Argenson’s voice. “Be strong. You have -need of your strength now, if ever.” - -The voice--the clasp of the hand--nerved and steadied me. I felt that -with this man beside me I could vanquish fate itself. - -Once more I looked out into the church. I saw the acolyte arrange the -altar-cloth and light the candles. Then the priest raised his hand, -and the wedding-party advanced from the vestibule. It consisted only -of Nanette, her uncle, and the hideous Briquet. The men held the girl -between them and were almost carrying her. Her face was white as -death, and she turned her eyes appealingly from one to the other, but -saw only ferocity in those two savage countenances. At last they were -at the altar-rail, and she dropped to her knees and buried her face in -her hands. I knew that she was praying. - -“M. le Curé,” said Ribaut, “in case the bride cannot answer, her legal -guardian is permitted to answer for her, is he not?” - -“Yes, M. Ribaut,” replied the curé in a low voice, “that is permitted.” - -“Very well, Monsieur, proceed,” and the men dropped to their knees -beside the girl. - -I could see her form shaken with sobs. - -“Oh, come,” I whispered to d’Argenson, “hasten. Monsieur. This is more -than I can bear.” - -“It will be but a moment longer,” and he pressed my hand. - -“Is there any one here present,” asked the priest, “who knows of any -reason why these two should not be man and wife?” - -D’Argenson put the tapestry back and advanced slowly to the altar-rail. -Ribaut and Briquet saw him, and the eyes of the latter dilated with -terror, for he had seen d’Argenson as you know, and knew him now. -Nanette did not raise her head, but continued sobbing softly. Plainly -she had abandoned hope. - -“I forbid the marriage, M. le Curé,” said d’Argenson. - -As she heard these words, Nanette raised her head with a start. She saw -d’Argenson standing there. She fixed her eyes on his and what she read -there seemed to reassure her, for she smiled and her weeping ceased. - -Ribaut was on his feet in an instant, but Briquet remained kneeling, -seemingly paralyzed by d’Argenson’s words. His mouth was working -convulsively and his face was livid. - -“Who is this fellow?” asked Ribaut, looking from d’Argenson to the -priest, purple with rage. - -“I forbid the marriage,” continued d’Argenson, before the priest could -answer, “because it is a conspiracy between these two men to defraud -Anne Ribaut of her property.” - -“It is a lie!” screamed Ribaut, and he shook his fist in his accuser’s -face. D’Argenson merely looked at him and smiled. He read guilt in his -eyes. - -[Illustration: “I forbid the marriage”] - -“Come, M. Ribaut,” he said coolly, “how about those ten thousand -crowns you parted with this morning?” - -Ribaut stared in astonishment, and his blood shot to his eyes, as he -realized his danger. - -“M. le Curé,” he protested at last, with an effort at composure, “one -does not believe the ranting of every madman who happens in from the -street. Let him bring forward his proof of this ridiculous charge.” - -“I have my proof,” said d’Argenson, with a calmness I was far from -sharing. “Come forward, my friend,” he added, turning towards the place -where I stood. - -I lifted the tapestry and stepped into the church. Ribaut and Briquet -stared at me in amazement. Evidently they did not know me, but the eyes -of love were keener. - -“Pierre!” cried Nanette. “Oh, Pierre! And they told me you were dead!” - -“Really, M. le Curé,” sneered Ribaut, “one would say this was a theatre -and not a church. What comedy is this? From what gutter did you drag -that scoundrel?” - -“You have a short memory, it seems, M. Ribaut,” I retorted. “I did not -think you would forget our last interview so quickly. I see that you -still have the marks of it on your face.” - -He stared at me with eyes starting from his head. - -“So,” he murmured at last, “it is the lover!” and his eyes glittered -with passion. “M. le Curé, you will not heed the ravings of such -scoundrels?” - -The curé smiled dryly. - -“It appears you do not know this gentleman,” said he, glancing at -d’Argenson. - -“No,” snarled Ribaut, “nor do I wish to know him.” - -“You may be interested, nevertheless,” went on the curé, “in knowing -that it is M. le Comte d’Argenson, lieutenant of police.” - -“D’Argenson!” cried Ribaut, and I saw the blood struck from his face as -by a blow. “D’Argenson! Very well,” he continued after a moment, vainly -trying to steady his voice, as he saw that the game was lost. “This -wedding, then, will not take place. I yield. But I am still this girl’s -guardian, am I not, Monsieur?” - -“Yes, you are still her guardian,” assented d’Argenson. - -“And she is still under my control?” - -“In all things save that of this marriage.” - -“Very well,” cried Ribaut in a ferocious voice. “She will return home -with me. Come, Mademoiselle,” and he grasped her by the arm and turned -away. - -My brain was whirling as I saw Nanette look piteously at me. I started -after them to commit I know not what act of violence, but d’Argenson -waved me back. - -“Stop a moment, M. Ribaut,” he called. “There is only one thing which -can release your niece from the duty of obedience to you. That is her -marriage. You have lost your right to exact obedience in that.” - -He descended to Nanette’s side and took her hands. He smiled into her -eyes, and her face brightened as she looked at him. - -“I repeat, Mademoiselle,” he said, “that your marriage is the only -thing which can make you independent of your uncle. It seems a pity -that all these preparations should go for naught--that these candies -should burn uselessly. Perhaps there is some one else present whom -you would be willing to marry. The curé has assured me that he will -overlook any little irregularity in the proceedings.” - -His face was smiling and tender, all its ugliness vanished. I heard as -in a dream. - -“Oh, yes,” cried Nanette. “There is some one, Monsieur,” and she turned -and looked at me. - -For a moment I did not understand. - -“Me?” I stammered. “Me?” - -“Yes, you!” cried d’Argenson gayly. “Come, M. le Moyne, wake up!” - -A mist seemed to fall from before me, and I saw Nanette gazing at me -with eyes wet with tears and lips quivering with tenderness. - -“My darling!” I cried. “My life!” and I stretched wide my arms to -receive her. - - - - -ENVOY - - -SO the cottage at St. Cloud became a reality, after all, for with -M. d’Argenson’s willing help we choked Nanette’s fortune from out -her uncle’s hungry maw, nor did he dare make much resistance. More -punishment for him we did not seek--we were too happy to think of -vengeance. - -And here, too, came my sister--our sister, rather--the same sweet, -strong, noble girl. The others dwell yet in the southland which they -love; but, thank God, they no longer struggle hand to hand with want. -We have visited them, Nanette and I, and how I joyed in showing her the -places where my youth was spent--the river, the great wood, the little -bed-room, whence I peeped out at my uncle’s ruffians! Then back again -to our home, here, at St. Cloud. - -It is a pleasant place, nestling amid a grove of trees, with a vineyard -at the right and the river gleaming in the distance. Sometimes, on -summer afternoons, we set our table out of doors and dine with all this -beauty close about us. - -And sometimes, too, our dearest friend puts the cares of his great -office from him and comes alone to spend an hour with us. Need I say -with what joy we welcome him? And I trust that in our love he finds -some slight recompense for his great kindness to us. - -In one corner of the little burial ground of the Théatins there is a -grave which Nanette and I visit often. We love to sit beside it and -talk over the days of our meeting. And as I tell for the hundredth time -the story of my escape from Mère Fouchon, my wife rises with brimming -eyes and kisses the little white shaft which bears the single word -“Ninon.” - - -THE END - - - - -TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: - - - Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_. - - Obvious typographical errors have been corrected. - - Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been standardized. - - Archaic or variant spelling has been retained. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK CADETS OF GASCONY *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law 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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