I had come to a place where the road runs, narrower than ever, between banks covered with bushes. All at once the perfect loneliness and silence were broken by three or four men leaping out of the bushes in front of me and barring the way, one presenting a pistol, another a long pike, while a third prepared to seize my rein. I instantly spurred forward, to make a dash for it: at the same time I was conscious that other fellows had sprung into the road behind me. The knave caught both reins close to the bit, and hung on under the horse's head, while the poor animal tried to rear. I drew sword and dagger, and leaned forward to run this fellow through. As I made my thrust, my senses suddenly went out in a kind of fire-streaked darkness. As I afterwards learned, I had been struck on the back of the head with a loaded cudgel by one of the unseen men behind. When I came to myself I was lying on the earth in a little bushy hollow away from the road: my hands were tied behind me, and around each ankle was fastened a rope, of which one of my assailants held the loose end. These two fellows and their four comrades were seated on the ground, eating the fowls and drinking the wine and milk I had provided for the Countess. One of them wore my sword, another had my dagger. My purse lay empty on the grass, and my horse was hobbled with the strap from my baskets.
My first thought was of the key. Searching about with my eyes, I presently saw it, with the other one, at the edge of the bushes, where they had doubtless been thrown as of no value.
My head was aching badly, but that was nothing to the terror in my heart for the Countess: if I was hindered from going to her, who was to give her aid?—nay, who was to release her from that dark hiding-place? She would die for lack of food and air,—her cell of refuge would be her tomb!
"Ah!" exclaimed one of the robbers; "the worthy young gentleman comes to life."
"You are right," said I, trying to hit the proper mood in which to deal with them. "I'm not sorry, either, as I was in some haste to get on. My friends, as you appear to have emptied me of everything that can be of any use to you, what do you say to allowing my poor remaining self to go about my business?"
"And to give information about us as soon as you get to Chateaudun, eh?" said one.
I was satisfied to let them think I was bound for Chateaudun.
"No," I replied. "Poor as I am, the toll you have collected from me is not as much as my necessity of finishing my journey. So if you will untie me, and can find it in your hearts to give me back my horse—or at worst to let me go afoot,—I will cry quits, and give you my word of honour to forget you completely."
"You speak well, young gentleman: but it's not to us that you need speak. We shall be taking you presently to one you can make proposals to."
"Why should you waste time in taking me to your leader, when you are quite able to make terms yourselves?" said I. "Come. I can offer him no more than I can offer you. Suppose it were a hundred crowns: he would have the lion's share of it, and you poor fellows would get but a small part. If I deal with you alone, he need be never the wiser, and you will have the whole sum to divide among you."
"And how would you get the five hundred crowns?"
"I said one hundred: I would get them by going for them: I would give you my promise on the honour of a gentleman."
The ruffians laughed. "No," said the one who had spoken most. "You would have to stay with us, and send for them. And our leader is the one to manage that. He will make you a fine, fair offer, no doubt."
My heart sank. I tried persuasion, but nothing could move them. Doubtless each was afraid of the others, or they were very strongly under the dominion of their chief.
I asked them to give me back my keys, whereupon one of them put the keys in his own wallet. They finished the food and drink, and made ready to depart. Their preparations consisted mainly of blindfolding me with a thick band of cloth, putting me on my horse, and tying together under the animal's belly the ropes that bound my ankles. Then a man mounted behind me, I heard another take the rein to lead, the horse was turned around several times so as to confuse my sense of direction, and we set off. We presently crossed a stream, and a little later I knew by sound and smell that we were in the forest. When we had traversed a part of it, the horse was again turned around twice or thrice, and we continued on our way. All the time I was thinking of her who waited for me in the darkness of her tomb-like prison.
At last, by feeling the sun upon me and by other signs, I knew that we had come to a space clear of trees. We stopped a moment, and I heard calls exchanged and a gate opened; and then my horse's feet passed from turf to a very rough, irregular pavement. The sound of horses in their stalls at one side, the cooing of pigeons at the other, the gate, the rude paving, the remote situation, all taken together informed me that we were in an enclosed farm-yard. We stopped a second time, and my ankle ropes being then detached from each other, I was hauled down from the horse. The men with me were now greeted by others, who came apparently from the side buildings. I was led forward into a stone-floored passage, where I had to sit on a bench, guarded by I know not how many, while one went up a flight of stairs near at hand, evidently to give an account of their prize to somebody in authority. Presently a voice from above called down, "Bring the prisoner hither," and I was taken upstairs and through a doorway.
My entrance drew an ejaculation from a person already in the room, who thereupon gave orders in a low voice. I was made to sit on the floor, and my ankles were tied close together. A chain was then wound ingeniously about my ankle-bonds, my legs, and the cords at my wrists; passed through a hole in the floor and around a cross beam, and finally fastened with a padlock, in such a way that I was secured beyond power of extricating myself.
"Now, go, and wait in the passage," said the voice in which the previous orders had been given. "But first take that rag from his eyes. He may as well see: it will amuse him, and will not hurt us,—I will take care of that."
The band was removed, and I found myself in a bare, plastered room with a barred window. In front of me stood a large man with a mask on his face. Where the mask ended, his beard began, so that he presented a visage entirely of black. The robbers who had brought me hither went out, closing the door, and I was left alone with this man.
He regarded me a moment; then dropped into a chair, with a low grunt of laughter.
"That it should be this fool, of all fools!" he began. "Who shall say there is no such thing as luck? Monsieur, I am sure it will please you to know into whose hands you have fallen."
He took off his mask, and there was the red-splashed face of Captain Ferragant.
Surprise made me dumb for a moment, for he had hitherto disguised his voice. He sat looking at me with a most cruel expression of malevolent triumph.
"So, this is where you have fled,—and you are the chief of the robbers!" said I.
"Call me that if you like. It matters nothing what names you prefer to use. No ears will ever hear them but mine; and mine will not be long afflicted with the sound."
I shuddered, for I knew the implacability of this man, and my death meant the death of the Countess,—death in the dark, mouldy basement of the tower, death by stifling and starvation while she waited in vain for me, a slow and solitary death, rendered the more agonizing to her mind by suspense and fears. And this horrible fate must needs be hers just when the cause of her sorrows and dangers had been removed! It was a thought not to be endured.
"You will have your jest," said I. "But I see no reason why you should bear me malice. The Count de Lavardin is now a dead man, I hear. I can no longer be against him, nor you for him. Therefore bygones should be bygones, and I suppose you will make terms with me as with any other man who happened to come before you as I do."
"You do me an injustice, young gentleman: I am not so mercenary,—I do not always make terms. It is true, I served the Count for pay; that is what my company is for, and if he had not gone out of his chateau to hunt his wife, we might have defended the place till the enemy was tired out. But he allowed himself to be caught in the road,—you have heard the news, then? What do they say of me?"
"That when you saw the Count was killed, you ran away."
"Yes, I was of no use to the Count then, and his own men in the chateau were not well inclined toward me. They were for giving up the place, the moment he was dead. I thought best to save my good fellows for better service elsewhere."
"Then your company and the band of robbers in this forest are the same?"
"If you call them robbers,—they forage when there is need. I did not have them all at the chateau. The good fellows who brought you here were not at Lavardin with me. It is well, when one is in a place, to have resources outside. And so we meet again, my young interloper! You were rude to me once or twice at Lavardin. I shall pay you for that, and settle scores on behalf of my friend the Count as well."
"How much ransom do you want?" I asked bluntly. "Name a sum within possibility, and let me go for it immediately: you know well you can rely upon my honour to deliver it promptly at any place safe for both of us, and to keep all a secret."
"Do not insult me again. I have told you I am above purchase."
Despite his jesting tone, my hope began to fall.
"You are not above prudence, at least," I said. "I assure you there are people who will move earth and heaven to find what has become of me, and whose powers of vengeance are not light."
"If I went in fear of vengeance, my child, I should never pass an easy moment. I have learned how to evade it,—or, better still, to turn it back on those who would inflict it. I fear nobody. When the game is not worth the risk, one can always run away, as I did from Lavardin when the Count's death threw his men into a panic."
"Good God!" I cried, giving way to my feelings; "what will move you, then? What do you wish me to do? Shall I humiliate myself to plead for my life? shall I beg mercy? If I must descend to that, I will do so."
For you will remember another life than mine was staked upon my fate, and time was flying. How long could she endure without food, without drink, without renewal of air, in that locked-up place of darkness?
"Mercy, I beg," I cried, in a voice broken by fears for her.
"You have hit upon the right way, at last," said the Captain, and my heart bounded in spite of his continued irony of voice and manner. "You beg for mercy, you shall have it. I will give you your life, and your liberty as well: on your part, you will tell me where the Countess de Lavardin is; as soon as I have made sure you have told the truth, I will set you free."
I gazed at him in silence.
"Is not that merciful?" said he; "a full pardon for all your affronts and offences, in return for a trifling piece of information?"
"It is a piece of information I cannot give you," I replied.
"It is a waste of time and words to try to deceive me," said the red Captain. "A young gentleman who risks so much for a lady as you have done, and accomplishes so much for her,—yes, they were wonders of prowess and courage, I admit, and I compliment you upon them,—a young gentleman who does all that for a lady does not so soon lose knowledge of her whereabouts. Do not trifle with me, Monsieur. Where is the Countess? There is no other way by which you can save yourself."
"Do you think, then, a man who has shown the courage and prowess you mention, for the sake of a lady, would save himself by betraying her?"
"Oh, you are young, and may have many years before you—a life of great success and honour. There are other beautiful ladies in the world. In a very short time you can forget this one."
"I think it is for you to forget her," said I on the impulse. "As for me, I would rather die!"
Ah, yes, it was easy enough to die, if that were all: but to leave her to die, and in such a manner, was another thing. Yet I knew she would prefer death, in its worst form, to falling into the unrestrained hands of the red Captain. The man's eyes, from the moment when he introduced her name, betrayed the eagerness of his new hope to make himself her master,—though he still controlled his speech. I say his new hope, for it must have arisen upon the death of the Count, during whose life, not daring openly to play the rival, he had found his only satisfaction in a revenge which provided that none might have what was denied to him. It was for me to decide now whether she should die or find herself at the mercy of Captain Ferragant. Was it right that I should decide for her as she would decide for herself? Was it for me to consign her to death, though I was certain that would be her own choice? Even though the Captain found her, was not life, with its possible chance of future escape, of her being able to move him by tears and innocence, of some friendly interposition of fate, preferable to the sure alternative doom?
"I will leave you to make up your mind quietly," said the Captain. "When you are ready to speak to the point, call to the men in the passage,—one of them will come to me. The door will be left open. I hope you will not be slow in choosing the sensible course: I cannot give you many hours for consideration."
He went out, addressed some orders to four or five men who sat on a bench facing my door, and disappeared: I heard his feet descending the stairs. My door was left wide open, so that I was directly in the gaze of the men. But even if I had been unobserved, I could not have moved from the place where I sat. Any effort to break my bonds, either of wrist or ankle, by sheer strength, was but to cause weakness and pain. My arms ached from the constraint of their position, and, because of them behind me, it was impossible to lie at full length on my back. Nor would the chain, without cutting into my thighs, permit me to lie on either side. I was thus unable to change even my attitude.
But my discomforts of body were nothing in presence of the question that tore my mind. Minutes passed; time stretched into hours: still I discussed with myself, to which of the fates at my choice should I deliver her? Should I give her to death, or to the arms of the red Captain? Little as she feared the first, much as she loathed the second, dared I take it upon myself to assign her to death? Had it been mere death, without the horrors of darkness and desertion, without the anxious wonder as to why I failed her, I should not have been long in deciding upon that. For that would be her wish, and I should not survive her. Let us both die, I should have said; for what will life be to her after she has fallen into the hands of this villain, and what to me after I have delivered her into them? But the peculiar misery of the death that threatened her, kept the problem still busy in my mind.
And yet I could not bring myself to yield her to the Captain.
The day had become afternoon, and I still debated. The Countess must have expected me to return before this time. What was her state now? what were her conjectures? Ah, thought I, if we had not found our way to that lonely tower, if the storm had not come up the previous night, if we had started to leave the forest earlier!—nay, if I had had the prevision, upon hearing of the presence of robbers, to make her turn back to Chateaudun with me, and lodge quietly there until the Mother Superior of the convent could be sounded, and a safe way of approach be ascertained, all would now be well. We should have heard in the meantime of the Count's death. Yes, everything had gone wrong since the Countess had taken the road for the forest. The third of Blaise Tripault's maxims which he had learned from the monk came back to me with all the force of hapless coincidence:
"Never leave a highway for a byway."
The thought of Blaise Tripault made me think of my father. What a mockery it was to know that I, chained helpless to the floor in this remote stronghold of ruffians, was the son of him, the Sieur de la Tournoire, the invincible warrior before whose sword no man could stay, and who would have rushed to the world's end to save me or any one I loved! To consider my need, and his power to help, and that only his ignorance of my situation stood between, was so vexing that in my bitterness of soul, regardless of the men in the passage, I cried out to the empty air, "Oh, my father! If you but knew!"
And then, for a moment, as if the bare wall were no impediment, I saw a vision of my father, with his dauntless brow and grizzled beard, his great long sword at his side, riding toward me among green trees.
The light softened and faded into that of evening. Another set of men took the places of those outside my door. No food nor drink was brought me, and I supposed the Captain hoped by this neglect to reduce me the sooner to a yielding state. But I was even glad to have to undergo some of the discomforts which the Countess must needs be enduring. I gave up hope of her life or my own, and, leaning forward so as to get some relief of position, I fell into a kind of drowsy lassitude.
Suddenly, through my window, which overlooked the court-yard, I heard a low call at the gate, which was answered. Presently I heard the gate close, and assumed it had been opened to let in the man who had uttered the call. About a minute after that, there was a considerable noise in the yard, as of men hastily assembling. Then came the voice of the Captain, apparently addressing the whole company. When he finished, there was a general movement of feet, as of men dispersing about the yard, and this was followed by complete silence.
The men in the passage were now joined by a comrade, who spoke to them rapidly in a low tone. They whispered to one another in some excitement, but did not leave their places nor take their eyes from me.
The next sound I heard was of the tread of horses approaching. My curiosity now aroused, I strained my ears. The hoof-beats came to the gate, and then I heard a loud knock, followed by no other sound than of the pawing and snorting of the horses as they stood. There must have been at least a score of them.
Presently the unheeded knock was repeated, and then a quick, virile voice called out:
"Hola, within there! Open the gate, in the name of the King!"
My heart leaped. The voice was that of the royal guardsman who had saved the Countess from the robbers the previous evening. But his party was now evidently much larger than before.
No answer was given to his demand. The red Captain's intent apparently was to make these newcomers believe the place deserted. I had an impulse to shout the truth, but I saw my guards watching me, their hands on their weapons, and knew that my first word would be the signal for my death. So I kept silence.
"If you do not open the gate at once," the guardsman cried, "we will open it for ourselves, in our own way."
I now heard footsteps shuffling across the yard, and then one of the robbers spoke, in the quavering tones of an old man:
"Pardon, Monsieur. Pardon, I pray, but it is impossible for me to open. I am all alone here in charge of this place, which is empty and deserted, and I'm forbidden to open the gate to anybody but the master. He would kill me if I disobeyed, and besides that, I have taken a vow. There is nothing here that you can want, Monsieur."
"There is shelter for the night to be had here, and that we mean to have. We are on the business of the King, and I command you to open."
"I dare not, Monsieur. I should imperil my life and my soul. There is a lodge in the forest a mile to the east, and the keeper will see to all your wants: there is plenty of shelter, food for yourselves, hay for your horses, everything you can need. Here all is dismantled and empty."
"Old man, you are lying. Unbar the gate in a moment, or your life will indeed be in danger."
To this the "old man" gave no answer, except to come away from the gate with the same simulated walk of an aged person.
I heard the horsemen discussing in low tones. Then, to my dismay, came the sound of hoofs again, this time moving away. Now I was more than ever minded to cry out, but my guards were ready to spring upon me with their daggers. I might have sought this speedy death, but for the sudden thought that the withdrawal of the royal guardsmen might be only temporary.
I know not how many minutes passed. The sound of the horses had died out for some time. I became sensible of the tramp of men's feet. Were the guardsmen returning without their horses? Suddenly the red Captain's voice arose in the court-yard:
"To the walls, you with firearms! Shoot them down as they try to batter in the gate! All the rest, stand with me to kill them if they enter!"
The tramp of the guardsmen came swiftly near. I heard the reports of muskets and pistols. There was a loud thud, as of some sort of ram—a fallen branch or trunk from the forest—being borne powerfully against the gate. This was answered by defiant, profane shouts and more loud detonations. My guards in the passage groaned, exclaimed, and clenched their weapons, mad to be in the fray. I could only listen and wait.
There was a second thud against the gate, amidst more cries and shots. And soon came a third, the sound being this time prolonged into a crash of timber. A shout of triumph from the invaders, a yell of execration from the red Captain and his men, and the clash of steel, told that the gate had given way.
"Follow close, gentlemen! Trust me to clear a path!" cried a hearty voice, cheerful to the point of mirth, which thrilled my soul.
"Ay, follow him close!" cried the leader of the guardsmen; "follow the sword of La Tournoire!"
I could have shouted for joy, but that it was now worth while postponing death by minutes.
The noise of clashing swords increased and came nearer, as if the guardsmen were pouring in through the gateway and driving the defenders back toward the house. Now and then came the sound of a pike or reversed musket meeting steel armour, and all the time fierce exclamations rose from both parties. There was no more firing; doubtless the melee was too close and general for anybody to reload.
The men in the passage, as the tumult grew and approached, became as restless as dogs in leash that whine and jump to be in the fray. At last one of them ran into my room and looked out of the window.
"Death of the devil, how they are at it!" he cried, for the information of his comrades outside my door. "I think we shall be wanted in a minute or two. These cursed intruders have forced the gateway. Our fellows are twice as many as they, but their heads and bodies are in steel,—all but one, a middle-aged man with gray in his beard. He has no armour on, but he leads the others. Body of Satan! you should see him clear the ground about him. He thrusts in all directions at once: his sword is as long as a man, and it darts as quickly as the tongue of a snake. Ha! it has just cut down old Cricharde.—And now it has stung Galparoux.—Holy Beelzebub, what a man! He fights like a fiend, and all the time with a gay face as if he were at his sport.—Ah! there he has let daylight into poor Boirac.—But now—good!—at last our Captain has planted himself in front of this devil: it was high time: he will find his match now. By God, it will be worth looking at, the fight between the red Captain and this stranger,—there aren't two such men in France. They are taking each other's measure now,—each one sees what sort of stuff he has run against. Ah!"
What the last exclamation meant, I could not know. The man's attention had become too close for further speech. But I supposed that a pass had been made between my father and the red Captain, and that it had been nothing decisive, for the watcher's interest continued at the extreme tension: he kept his face against the iron bars of the window, and made no sound beyond frequent short ejaculations. The men in the passage called to him for further news, but he did not heed them. To my ears the fighting continued as general as before, with the shouts of many throats and the clash of many weapons, so that I could not at all distinguish the single combat between my father and the red Captain from the rest of the fray.
Presently the man gave a howl of rage. "Our Captain is being forced back!" he cried. "We are getting the worst of the fight everywhere. It's too much!—we are needed down there! To the devil with orders!—the Captain will be glad enough if we turn the tide. And we'd better try our luck down there than be taken here, for short time they'll give us for prayers, my children." While speaking he had moved from the window to my door.
"Certainly this prisoner is safe enough," answered one of the men, whereupon he and the others in the passage ran down the stairs.
But the man who had been at the window turned to me. "Safe enough,—yes, so it looks," said he. "Young man, the Captain must think you a magician, to take so much pains against your escaping. If it came to the worst, I was to kill you, and the time seems to have arrived: so, if you'll pardon me—"
"You will be a great fool," said I, as he approached with his sword drawn; "for if you are taken alive my intervention will save your neck."
"How do you know it will?"
"By the fact that the gentleman down there whose fighting you so admire is my father."
"Indeed? You are a gentleman: do you give your word of honour for that?"
"Yes; and to speak for you if I am alive when your side is finally defeated."
"Very good, Monsieur. I will hold you to that." Upon this he left me and followed his comrades down the stairs.
His footfalls had scarcely ceased upon the stairway, when other sounds began to come from the same direction,—those of conflict in the entrance hall below. Somebody had drawn his antagonist, or been forced by him, into the house. There was the quick, irregular stamp of booted feet on the stone floor, the keen music of sword striking sword. If the fight spread generally into the house, and the defenders fled to the upper rooms, my position must become more critical. So I listened rather to this noise in the hallway than to the tumult in the court-yard. By the sound of the steel coming nearer, and that of the footfalls changing somewhat, I presently knew that one of the fighters had sought the vantage—or disadvantage—of the staircase. But the other evidently pushed him hard, for soon both combatants had reached the landing at the turn of the stairs, as was manifest from a sudden increase of their noise in my ears. I could now hear their short ejaculations as well as the other sounds. They continued to approach: I listened for a stumble on the stairs, to be followed by a death-cry: but these men were apparently heedful as to their steps, and finally they were both upon the level footing of the passage outside my room. I wondered if this fight would be over before it could be opposite my doorway. In a few moments I was answered. Into my narrow view came the large figure of the red Captain, without a doublet, his muscular arms bare, his shirt open and soaked with perspiration, his upper body heaving rapidly as he breathed, his face streaming, his eyes fixed upon the enemy whose swift rapier he parried with wonderful skill. The light of evening was dim in the passage, and perhaps for that reason the Captain backed into my room. His adversary followed instantly.
"Father!" I cried, as the Sieur de la Tournoire appeared in the doorway: in my emotion I thought not how I endangered him by distracting his attention.
But he was not to be thrown off his guard. He moved his head a little to the side, so as to catch a glimpse of me behind the Captain, but this did not prevent his adroitly turning a quick thrust which his enemy made on the instant of my cry.
"Hola, Henri!" said my father, with perfect calmness except for his quickness of breath. "What the devil are you doing here?"
"Sitting chained to the floor," I replied.
At this the Captain suddenly leaped back almost to where I was, and I suppose his intention was to place himself eventually where he would have me between him and my father and could kill me without ceasing to face the latter. But he may have considered an attempt to pass over me as unsafe for his subsequent footing, and so his next movement was sidewise: my father, following close, gave him work every moment. The Captain again stepping backward, I was now at his right and a little in front, so that, if he could gain but a spare second, he could send a finishing thrust my way. With my head turned so as to keep my eyes upon him, I could see by his look that he was determined not to risk my outliving him.
My father, too busy in meeting the Captain's lunges, and in trying what thrust might elude his defence, thought best to expend no more breath in talk with me, and so the fighting went on without words. Suppose, thought I, my father kills the Captain but the Captain first kills me? Had I not better now tell my father to seek the Tower of Morlon and release a person confined there? But if I did that, the Captain would hear, and suppose he killed my father as well as me! I held my tongue.
The Captain now maintained his position, neither giving ground nor pressing forward. The two combatants were between me and the window, through which still came sounds of struggle from the yard below. But these sounds were fewer, except those of cheers, which grew more frequent.
"Good! Our friends are gaining the day!" said my father to me.
"But you, Messieurs, shall not crow over it!" cried the Captain, and made a long thrust, as swift as lightning. My father caught it on the guard of his hilt, within short distance of his breast, at the same instant stepping back. The Captain did not follow, but darted his sword at me, with the cry, "Not for you the Countess!" I contracted my body and thought myself done for. My father's impulsive forward movement, however, disconcerted the Captain's arm in the very moment of his lunge, and his point but feebly stung my side and flew back again, his guard recovered none too soon to save himself. My father's thrusts became now so quick and continuous that the Captain fell back to gain breath. My father drove him to the wall. Shouting a curse, the Captain thrust for my father's midriff. My father, with a swift movement, received the sword between his arm and body, and at the same instant ran his own rapier into the Captain's unguarded front, pushed it through his lung, and pinned him to the wall.
The Captain's arms dropped, his head hung forward, and as soon as the sword was drawn out, he tumbled lifeless to the floor.
My father leaned against the wall till he regained a little breath and energy; then he wiped his brow and sword, and came over to me.
"How have they got you trussed up?" he asked. "And how came you into their hands?—I should be amazed to find you here, if I hadn't seen stranger things before now."
While he cut the cords that bound my ankles and wrists, I told him how I had been waylaid. "I was going with food and wine to a friend who lies locked in a deserted tower called Morlon. She is ill to death, and may now be dead for lack of food and air to keep up her strength. I must go to her—"
"A woman, then?"
"Yes, a lady: I will tell you all, but there is no time to lose now. The tower is in this forest. I must find my way there at once."
"Patience, a moment," said my father. "Your chain is locked, I see:—but no matter,—I can loosen it so that you can wriggle through." By having cut the cords, around which the chain had been passed, he had relieved the tautness, and was now able to do what he promised. He then took off my boots, and, grasping me under the arms, drew me backward out of the loosened coils as I moved them downward with my hands. At last I stood a free man. I put on my boots, took the Captain's sword, and accompanied my father down into the court-yard.
The fight was now over there. Of the royal guardsmen, all in steel caps and corselets, like the small party of them I had seen the previous evening, some were wiping their faces and swords, and others were caring for the hurts of comrades. Some of the robbers lay dead, several were wounded, and the rest, having yielded their weapons, were looking after their own disabled, under the direction of guardsmen. I recognized a number of the rascals as men I had seen at the Chateau de Lavardin. The commander of the troop of guards, he whom I had met before and whose vigorous voice I had recognized, greeted my father with a look of congratulation, and showed surprise at seeing me.
"Tis a day of events," said my father. "I have killed the Count's accomplice, and found my son.—Nay, there was no hope of that Captain's surrendering."
"My faith!—then your two quests are accomplished at the same moment," said the leader of the guardsmen. "And, for another wonder, your son turns out to be a person I have already met. But your friend, Monsieur?" This inquiry was to me, and made with sudden solicitude.
"Locked in the tower of Morlon, waiting for me to come with food,—perhaps dying or dead.—Monsieur, I was brought here blindfold: but I must find the way back to the tower of Morlon without delay,—it is somewhere in this forest."
"No doubt some of these gentry know the way," said the guardsman, indicating the robbers. "We'll make it a condition of his life for one of them to guide us."
"You make me your life-long debtor, Monsieur," I cried. "And one of them has the key: I think it is he lying yonder. As for food and wine—"
"We are not without those," said the guardsman. "Our horses and supplies are near at hand."
I went among the dead and wounded to find the man who had taken possession of my keys. Him I found, but the keys were not upon him. Supposing he had given them to his master, I ran upstairs and examined the pockets of the Captain, but in vain. Where to look next I knew not, so I returned to the court-yard and made known my unsuccess.
"Tut!" said my father; "a door is but a door, and we can break down that of your tower as we broke down this gate. This gentleman"—meaning the leader of the guardsmen—"has most courteously offered to accompany us, with part of his noble troop, and he has chosen a guide from among the prisoners."
"Ay, they all know the tower," said the guardsman, "but this fellow appears the most sensible.—Now, my man, how long will it take us, your comrades bearing the pine trunk with which we rammed this gate, to reach the tower of Morlon?"
"Two hours, Monsieur, I should say," replied the robber.
"It is too much," said the guardsman. "You will lead us thither in an hour at the utmost, or at the end of the hour you shall hang to the tree I then happen to be under." He thereupon gave orders to the guardsmen, and to the prisoners. As night would overtake us in the forest, he had a brief search made of the outhouses, and a number of dry pine sticks were found, to serve as torches. Our party was to go mounted, except the robbers impressed to carry the battering ram: so I went to the stalls at one side of the yard, and found my own horse, chewing hay in fraternal companionship with the animals which had doubtless brought Captain Ferragant and his men from Lavardin.
As I led out my horse, I suddenly bethought me of the man for whose life I had promised to speak. During the final preparations for our start, I looked again among the robbers, wondering why this man had not forced himself upon my attention. But I soon found the reason: he lay on his side, and when I turned him over I saw he was pierced between two ribs and had no life left to plead for.
My father, the leader of the guardsmen, and several of his men walked, while I rode, to the nearby edge of encircling woods, the defeated robbers bearing the young tree-trunk. Here my father and the guardsmen mounted, their horses having been tied to the trees. A pair of panniers containing wine, bread, and cold meat, was placed across my father's horse, a very strong animal, and, torches being lighted, we proceeded through the forest. The guide led, being attached to a halter, of which the commander of the guardsmen held the loose end. After the commander, my father and I came, and behind us the burdened prisoners, who were flanked and followed by the other guardsmen.
On the way, I told my father who it was that lay in the tower, and gave him a brief account of my whole adventure at Lavardin and in the forest. He applauded my conduct, though counselling me in future to look well before I leaped; and he approved of my offer to the Countess of the hospitality of La Tournoire.
"But what still makes me wonder," said I, "is that you should have found me here, so far from Paris, whither you knew I was bound, and from Vendome, whither Nicolas must have told you I was going."
"But in truth my being here is very simple," said he. "As soon as Nicolas came back to La Tournoire with your message the day after you set out, I started for Paris to solicit your pardon for the affair at La Flèche. Six days later I presented myself to the Duke de Sully, who immediately took me for an audience of the King. There was a deal of talk about the scandalous disregard of the edict against duels, the great quantity of good blood wasted almost every day, the too frequent granting of pardons, and all that. But in the end Henri would not refuse me, and I have your pardon now in my pocket. But you must not be rash another time: I promised for you, and assured the King you were no fire-eater and had received great provocation."
"Trust me to be prudent," said I.
"Good! As you had not yet arrived in Paris," continued my father, "I supposed you had been delayed at Vendome, whither, as you say, Nicolas told me you were going. So I thought I would start for home by way of Vendome, as you might still be there and perhaps in some scrape or other, or I might meet you on the road between there and Paris. I stayed overnight in Paris, as the Duke had invited me to wait upon him the next day. I went and was very well received. As I was about to take my leave, I mentioned that I was going to travel by Vendome. 'Ah,' said the Duke, 'then, if you wish, you may take a hand in a little affair which will be like an echo of the old busy days.' I opened my eyes at this, and the Duke told me that evidence had just been brought by one of his spies, which warranted the arrest of a powerful malcontent in the neighbourhood of Vendome, who had long been under suspicion,—in short, the Count de Lavardin. A party of royal guards was about to be sent off at once to take him in his chateau at Montoire, four leagues beyond Vendome, and I might go with them as a volunteer, or in any case I might have their company on my journey. I was quite ready for any affair that had a taste of the old service in it, especially as these treasonable great lords sometimes make a stout resistance in their chateaux. And so I had the honour of being introduced to these gentlemen and becoming for the time their comrade. That same afternoon I set out with them for Montoire, and we arrived there last Sunday."
"Ah! you must have passed through Vendome while we were in seclusion there."
"No doubt. That Count's business had to be attended to before he got wind of our arrival, and so there was no time for inquiring about you at Vendome. We came upon the Count and a party of attendants in the road, not a quarter of a league from his chateau. As we heard at the chateau afterwards, he had been searching the roads far and wide for his wife, who had fled from his cruelties. He had the daring to resist arrest, and there was some fighting, in which he was killed. It appears that the fight and his fall were seen by watchers from the tower of his chateau, and before we could arrive at that place his accomplice, this Captain Ferragant, who was in the chateau at the time, made his escape. As soon as we got to the chateau, we heard of this, and, as the Captain also was wanted, there was nothing to do but give chase. A few of the guardsmen were left to hold the chateau in the King's name, and the rest of us, with no more than a sup and a bite, made off after this Captain. He had so many followers with him, that he was not difficult to trace, and for two days we kept his track, until we lost it at the edge of this forest. From what we learned at Chateaudun, we guessed that his refuge was somewhere in the forest. That was yesterday afternoon: we at once broke up into small parties to search the forest, planning to reunite at a chosen place to-day at noon."
"It was one of those parties that saved the Countess from the robbers," said I gratefully.
"Ay, and there your story crosses mine. As for the ruffians who attacked the Countess, they escaped without affording a clue to the Captain's whereabouts,—for doubtless they were of his band, though this was not certain. When our parties met to-day, one of them brought a forester who offered to show the way to the Captain's hiding-place if he were allowed to leave before coming in sight of it. We made full preparations, and you know the rest. At first we thought our forester had fooled us, and that the place we had come to was what it appeared, a solitary farmstead in a clearing of the forest. But in such a case, it is always best to make sure, and faith, that is what we did. So you see I chanced to find you all the sooner for not having had time to look for you. But indeed it was a timely meeting."
In about an hour after the time of starting, we came to a clear space, in the midst of which was the tower we sought. We could see it by the starlight before we drew near with our torches. We all dismounted, and with a fast-beating heart, I found the door. It was still locked. Listening at the key-hole, I could hear no sound. I called out, "Louis!" thinking she would understand I had company to whom her sex need not be known. I wished to warn her of our assault upon the door, so that she might stay clear of danger thereby. But no answer came, though I called several times. I was now in great fear lest she had died. My father, who read my feelings in my face, suggested that she might have fallen into very deep unconsciousness, and that the best thing to do was to break in the door forthwith, as carefully as possible, trusting she might not be where there was chance of anything striking. As the place where I had left her lying was not opposite the door, and there was no reason to suppose she had chosen another, I gave up the attempt to warn her, and without further loss of time we made ready to attack the door. All the men in the party, both guardsmen and prisoners, laid hold of the tree-trunk, by means of halters and ropes fastened around it, my father and I placing ourselves at the head. The commander of the guardsmen, who was immediately behind me, called out the orders by which we moved in unison. Starting from a short distance, we ran straight for the tower, and swung the tree forward against the door at the moment of stopping. A most violent shock was produced, but the lock and hinges still held. We repeated this operation twice. Upon our third charge, the door flew inward. Leaving the trunk to the others, I hastened into the dark, close basement, and groped my way to where I had left the Countess.
"Madame!—Louis!" I called softly, feeling about in the darkness.
A weak voice answered,—a voice like that of one just wakened from profound sleep:
"Henri, is it you?—Mon dieu, I am so glad!—I feared some evil had befallen you."
"Ah, Louis, you are living,—thank God!"
"Living, yes: I have been asleep. Once I awoke, and wondered why you bad not returned. I prayed for you, and then I must have slept again. But what was it awakened me?—was there not a loud noise before I heard your voice?—Who are those men at the door with torches?"
I introduced my father, who, regarding her in the torchlight, and showing as tender a solicitude as a woman's, soon came to the conclusion that her state was no worse than one of extreme weakness for want of food and fresh air. He carried her out, laid her tenderly on a cloak, and administered such food and wine as were good for her. She submitted with the docility and trust of a child.
Leaving her for awhile, my father and I consulted with the leader of the guardsmen, and it was decided that the Countess, my father, and I should pass the night at the tower, the weather being warm and clear. The guardsmen would return with their prisoners to the scene of their recent battle, where much was to be put to rights. On the morrow they would rejoin us, and we should all proceed to Bonneval, where my father's deposition could be added to the report which the leader of the arresting party would have to deliver in Paris in lieu of the Count and Captain themselves.
I could not let the leader go, even for the night, without expressing the gratitude under which I must ever feel to him, for, though he was still ignorant of the identity of the Countess, there was no concealing from him that the supposed youth was a person very near my heart.
"Pouf!" said he, in his manly way; "'tis all chance. I have done nothing for you, but if I had done much I should have been repaid already in the acquaintance of Monsieur de la Tournoire."
"A truce to flattery," said my father. "It is I who am the gainer by the acquaintance of Monsieur Brignan de Brignan."
"Eh! Brignan de Brignan!" I echoed.
"That is this gentleman's name," said my father, wondering at my surprise. "Have we been so busy that I have not properly made you known to him before?"
I gazed at the gentleman's moustaches: they were indeed rather longer than the ordinary. He, too, looked his astonishment at the effect of his name upon me.
"Pardon me, Monsieur," said I. "I have been staring like a rustic. I owe you an explanation of my ill manners. I will give it frankly: it may provide you with laughter. What I am now, I know not, but three weeks ago I was a fool." I then told him how I had been taunted by a young lady, whose name I did not mention, and with what particular object I had so recently started for Paris. This was news to my father also, who laughed without restraint. Brignan de Brignan, though certainly amused, kept his mirth within bounds, and replied:
"Faith. I know not any young lady in your part of France who has a right to glory in my personal appearance, even if I were an Apollo,—who, by the way, is not represented with moustaches. But I believe I know who this girl may be,—I have met such a one in Paris, and avoided her as a pert little minx. As for your folly, as you call it, it was no more foolish than many a thing I have done."
He had the breeding not to add, "At your age," and I loved him for that. He and his men now set out upon their return to the farmstead, and my father and I, after devising a more comfortable couch for the Countess just within the open doorway of the tower, slept and watched by turns outside.
In the morning the Countess, partaking of more food, was in better strength and spirits, and had the curiosity to ask how my father came to be there. In telling her, I broke the news of the Count's death. For a moment she was startled, and then pity showed itself in her eyes and words,—pity for the man who had been swayed by such passions and delusions, and who had died in his sin with none else to shed a tear for him. The Captain's death, of which I next informed her, did not move her as much.
The turn of affairs caused a change of plan. She now resolved (as I had foreseen) to return to Lavardin and do such honour to her husband's memory as she might. Though his estates would probably, in all the circumstances, be adjudged forfeit to the Crown, some provision would doubtless be made for his widow. In any case, she might be sure of every courtesy from the officer in command of the guardsmen now occupying the chateau for the King, and there were certain jewels, apparel, and other possessions of her own which could not be withheld from her.
In the afternoon, when Brignan de Brignan and his comrades reappeared, the Countess was able to ride: and that evening we were all in Bonneval. Monsieur de Brignan had taken possession of several things found in an iron-bound chest where Captain Ferragant had kept his treasures. Among others were two papers stolen from me by the robbers,—the incriminating fragment of a letter to the Count, and the note from the Countess which I had found upon Monsieur de Merri. The former I destroyed, at the fire in the inn kitchen: the latter I kept, and keep to this day. Besides these, there were my purse; a quantity of gold, out of which I repaid myself the amount I had been robbed of; and the two keys, which I subsequently restored to the Chateau de Lavardin, whence they had come.
We stayed the night at Bonneval. The next day the guardsmen started for Paris, and our party of three for Montoire. As I took my leave of Brignan de Brignan before the inn gate, I noticed that his moustaches had undergone a diminution: indeed they now extended no further than his lips. I supposed he had decided not to be distinguished by such marks again. He expressed a hope of renewing acquaintance with me in Paris, and rode off. The Countess, my father, and I turned our faces toward Montoire, the Countess being now once more on Hugues's horse, which I had left for a time at Bonneval. We had not gone very far, when a man galloped after us, handed me a packet, and rode back as hastily as he had come. I had scarce time to recognize him as a valet attached to the party of guardsmen.
I opened the packet, and found a piece of paper, to which two wisps of hair were fastened by a thread, and on which was written in a large, dashing hand:
"Behold my moustaches. Brignan de Brignan."
And so, after all, I might keep my promise to Mlle. Celeste!
Two days later we arrived at Hugues's house, and were received with great joy by him and Mathilde. Here the Countess, now happily improved in health, resumed the attire of her sex, which she had there put off. My father then accompanied her to the Chateau de Lavardin, and made her known to the guardsman in command, by whom she was treated with the utmost consideration. With Mathilde to attend her, she remained a few days at the chateau, and then removed with her personal possessions to the house of Hugues, whose marriage to Mathilde was no longer delayed.
But meanwhile my father and I stayed only a day at Montoire, lodging at the inn there. I did not go to the chateau, but my father took thither the two keys, and brought away my sword and dagger, which had been hanging undisturbed in the hall. My farewell to the Countess was spoken in front of Hugues's gate when she started thence for the chateau, and not much was said, for my father and Hugues were there, as well as Mathilde, and the horses were waiting. But something was looked, and never did I cease to carry in my heart the tender and solicitous expression of her sweet eyes as they rested on me for a silent moment ere she turned away.
My father and I, on our homeward journey, stopped at La Flèche and ascertained that Monsieur de Merri's relations had learned of his fate and taken all care for the repose of his body and soul. It appeared that he lived at Orleans, and was used to visit cousins in Brittany: thus, then, had he chanced to stop at Montoire and fall in with the Count de Lavardin. Alas! poor young gentleman!
And now we arrived home, to the great relief of my mother; and Blaise Tripault would hardly speak to my father or me, for envy of the adventures we had passed through without him. But he spread great reports of what I had done,—or rather what I had not done, for he made me a chief hero in the destruction of the band of robbers. But this unmerited fame scarcely annoyed me at all, for my thoughts were elsewhere, and I was restless and melancholy. In a few days I resolved to go to Paris,—by way of Montoire. But before I started, I took a walk one fine afternoon along the stream that bounded our estate: and, as I had expected, there was Mlle. Celeste on the other side, with her drowsy old guardian. She blushed and looked embarrassed, and I wondered why I had ever thought her charming. Her self-confidence returned in a moment, and she greeted me with her old sauciness, though it seemed a trifle forced:
"Ah, Monsieur, so you have come back without going to Paris after all, I hear."
"Yes, Mademoiselle," I answered coldly. "But I have taken your advice and looked a little into the eyes of danger; and I find it does make a difference in one."
"Oh, yes: I believe you fought a duel, and were present when some highway robbers were taken; and now you have come back to rest on your laurels."
"No; I came back to give you these, as I promised." And I threw her the packet containing the moustaches of Brignan de Brignan. She opened it, and regarded the contents with amazement. I laughed.
She looked at me now with real wonder, and I perceived I had grown several inches in her estimation.
"But don't think I took them against his will," said I. "I admit I never could have done that. He gave me them in jest, and the proudest claim I can make in regard to him is that he honours me with his friendship. Good day, Mademoiselle."
I came away, leaving her surprised and discomfited, for which I was not sorry. She had expected to find me still her slave, and to expend her pertness on me as before: though she might have known that if danger would make a man of me, it would give me a man's eyes to see the difference between a real woman and a scornful miss.
I went to Paris, careful this time to avoid conflict with bold-speaking young gentlemen at inns; and on the way I had one precious hour at Hugues's house, wherein—upon his marriage to Mathilde—the Countess had established herself, to the wonder of all who heard of it. She continued to lodge there, her affairs turning out so that she was able to repay Hugues liberally. She occupied herself in good works for the poor about Montoire, and so two years passed, each day making her happier and more beautiful. Many times I went between La Tournoire and Paris,—always by way of Montoire. In Paris I saw much of Brignan de Brignan, whose moustaches had soon grown back to their old magnitude. And one day whom should I meet in the Rue St. Honoré but that excellent spy of Sully's, Monsieur de Pepicot?
I begged him to come into a tavern. "There is something you owe me," said I, when we were seated; "an account of how you got out of the Chateau de Lavardin that night without leaving any trace."
"It was nothing," said the long-nosed man meekly. "I found an empty room with a mullioned window, on the floor beneath ours, and let myself down to the terrace with a knotted rope I had brought in my portmanteau."
"But I never heard that any rope was found."
"I had passed it round the inside of the window-mullion and lowered both ends to the ground, attached to my portmanteau. In descending I kept hold of both parts. When I was down, I had only to release one part and pull the rope after me. I found a gardener's tool-shed, and in it some poles for trellis-work. I placed two of these side by side against the garden wall, at the postern door, and managed to clamber to the top."
"But I heard of nothing being found against the wall."
"Oh, I drew the poles up after me, and also my portmanteau, by means of the rope, which I had fastened to them and to my waist. I let them down to a plank which crossed the moat there, as I had observed before ever entering the chateau. I dropped after them, and was lucky enough to avoid falling into the moat. I hid the poles among the bushes: not that it mattered, but I thought it would amuse the Count to conjecture how I had got away. One likes to give people something to think of.—As for my horse, I had seen to it that he was kept in an unlocked penthouse.—Ah, well! that Count thought he was a great chess-player." And Monsieur de Pepicot smiled faintly and shook his head.
At the prospect of war, I joined the army assembling at Chalons, but the lamentable murder of the King put an end to his great plans, and I resumed my former way, swinging like a pendulum between Paris and La Tournoire. One soft, pink evening in the second summer after my adventure at Lavardin, I was privileged to walk alone with the Countess in the meadows behind Hugues's mill. Health and serenity had raised her beauty to perfection, and there was no trace of her sorrows but the humble dignity and brave gentleness of her look and manner.
"You are the loveliest woman in the world," I said, without any sort of warning. "Ah, Louise—surely I may call you that now—how I adore you! I cannot any longer keep back what is in my heart. See yonder where the sun has set—that is where La Tournoire is. It seems to beckon us—not me alone, but us—together. When will you come?—when may I take you to my father and mother, and hear them say I could not have found a sweeter wife in all France?"
Trembling, she raised her moist eyes to mine, and said in a voice like a low sigh:
"Ah, Henri, if it were possible! But you forget the barrier: we are not of the same religion. I know your mother changed her faith for your father's sake; but I could never do so."
"But what if I changed for your sake?" I said, taking her hand.
"Henri! will you do that?" she cried, with a joy that told all I wished to know.
In truth, I had often thought of going over to the national form of worship. As soon, therefore, as I got to La Tournoire after this meeting, I opened the matter to my father.
"Why," said he, "I think it a sensible resolve. The times are changed; since King Henri's death, there is no longer any hope of us Huguenots maintaining a balance. As a party, we have done our work, and are doomed to pass away. Those who persist will only keep up a division in the nation, from which they can gain nothing, and which will be a source of useless troubles. As for the religious side of the question, some people prefer artificial forms of expression, some do not. It is a matter of externals: and if one must needs subscribe to a few doctrines he does not believe, who is harmed by that? These things are much to women, and we, to whom they are less, can afford to yield. I often fancy your mother would like to go back to the faith of her childhood,—and if she ever expresses the wish, I will not hinder her. When I married her, all was different: I could not have become a Catholic then. Nor indeed can I do so now. Blaise Tripault and I are too old for new tricks: we must not change our colours at this late day: we are survivals from a bygone state of things. But you, my son, belong to a new France. Our great Henri said. 'Surely Paris is worth a mass': and I dare say this lady is as much to you as Paris was to him."
So the Church gained a convert and I a wife. Hugues and Mathilde came to live on our estate. And Mlle. Celeste, in course of time, was married to a raw young Gascon as lean as a lath, as poor as a fiddler, and as thirsty as a Dutchman, but with moustaches twice as long as those of Brignan de Brignan.