A few yards from the palace the Count met Michael, who was coming towards him.
"A boat, quick, quick, my good Michael," he shouted, "'tis a matter of life and death."
The sailor, terrified at the condition in which he saw his commandant, wished to ask him what the matter was, but the Count roughly imposed silence on him by repeating his order to procure a boat at once.
Michael bowed his head.
"Woe is me. I foresaw this," he muttered, with mingled grief and anger, and he ran off towards the port.
It is not a difficult task to find a boat at Cadiz, and Michael had only to choose; comprehending that the Count was in a hurry, he selected one pulled by ten oars.
The Count arrived at the same moment.
"Twenty louis for you and your crew if you are at Puerto in twenty minutes," he shouted, as he leaped into the boat, which was almost capsized by the violence of the shock.
The boat started, the sailors bent over their oars, and made her fly through the water.
The captain with his eyes obstinately fixed on Santa Maria, and striking his clenched fist on the boat's gunwale, in spite of the excessive speed at which it was going, incessantly repeated in a choking voice—
"Quicker, quicker, muchachos."
He passed like an arrow across the bows of the frigate, whose crew were preparing to weigh anchor. At length they reached Puerto.
"No one is to follow me," the captain cried, as he leaped ashore.
But Michael did not heed this order, and at the risk of what might happen to him, he set out in pursuit of the Count, whom he would not abandon in his present frightful condition.
It was fortunate he did so, for when he reached the house Doña Clara had inhabited, he saw the young man lying senseless on the ground.
The house was deserted, and Doña Clara had disappeared.
The sailor took his captain on his shoulders and conveyed him to the boat, where he laid him as comfortably as he could in the stem sheets.
"Where are we going?" the master asked.
"To the French frigate; and make haste," Michael replied.
When the boat was alongside the frigate, Michael paid the master the promised reward, and then aided by several of the crew, conveyed the captain to his cabin. As it was eminently necessary to keep the Count's secret, and avoid arousing suspicions, the sailor in his report to the first commandant, ascribed to a violent fall from a horse, the condition in which the captain was; then, after making a signal to Bowline to follow him, he returned to the cabin.
M. de Barmont was still as motionless as if he were dead; the chief surgeon of the frigate in vain bestowed the greatest care on him without succeeding in recalling life, which seemed to have fled forever.
"Send away your assistants; Bowline and myself will suffice," Michael said to the doctor, with a meaning glance.
The surgeon comprehended, and dismissed the mates. When the door had closed on them the sailor drew the doctor into a gun berth, and said to him, in so low a voice as to be scarce audible—
"Major, the Commandant has just experienced a great sorrow, which produced the terrible crisis he is suffering from at this moment. I confide this to you because a surgeon is like a confessor."
"All right, my lad," the surgeon replied; "the Captain's secret has been trusted to sure ears."
"I am convinced of that, Major; the officers and crew must suppose that the Captain has been thrown from his horse, you understand. I have already told the lieutenant so in making the report."
"Very good; I will corroborate your statement, my lad."
"Thanks, Major; now I have another thing to ask of you."
"Speak."
"You must obtain the lieutenant's leave that no one but Bowline and myself may wait on the Captain. Look you, Major, we are old sailors of his, he can say what he likes before us; and then, too, he will be glad to have us near him; will you get this leave from the lieutenant?"
"Yes, my lad; I know that you are a good fellow, sincerely attached to the Captain, and that he places entire confidence in you; hence, do not feel alarmed—I will settle that with the lieutenant, and you and your companion shall alone come in here with me so long as the Captain is ill."
"Thanks, Major; if an opportunity offers itself I will repay you this; on the faith of a Basque, you are a worthy man."
The surgeon began laughing.
"Let us return to our patient," he said, in order to cut short the conversation.
In spite of the intelligent care the doctor paid him the Count's fainting fit lasted the whole day.
"The shock was frightful," he said—"it was almost a congestion."
It was not till night, when the frigate had been for a long time at sea, and had left Cadiz roads far behind it, that a favourable crisis set in, and the Captain became slightly better.
"He is about to regain his senses," the doctor said.
In fact, a few convulsive movements agitated the Count's body, and he half-opened his eyes; but his glances were wild and absent; he looked all around him, as if trying to discover where he was, and why he was thus lying on his bed.
The three men, with their eyes fixed on him, anxiously watched this return to life, whose appearance was anything but reassuring to them.
The surgeon, more especially, seemed restless; big forehead was wrinkled, and his eyebrows met, through the effort of some internal emotion.
All at once the Count hurriedly sat up, and addressed Michael, who was standing by his side.
"Lieutenant," he said to him, in a quick, sharp voice, "let her fall off a point, or else the Spanish vessel will escape—why have you not beat to quarters, sir?"
The surgeon gave Michael a sign.
"Pardon, Commandant," the latter replied, humouring the sick man's fancy, "we have beaten to quarters, and the tops are all manned."
"Very good," he answered; then suddenly changing his ideas, he muttered—"She will come, she promised it me. But no, she will not come; she is dead to me henceforth—dead! dead!" he repeated, in a hollow voice, with different intonations; then he uttered a piercing cry—"Oh, heaven! How I suffer!" he exclaimed, bursting into sobs, while a torrent of tears inundated his face.
He buried his head in his hands, and fell back on his bed.
The two sailors anxiously examined the surgeon's impassive face, trying to read in his features what they had to hope or fear.
The latter uttered a deep sigh of relief, passed his hand over his damp forehead, and turning to Michael, said—
"Heaven be praised! He sheds tears—he is saved."
"Heaven be praised!" the sailors repeated, crossing themselves devoutly.
"Do you think he is mad, Major?" Michael asked, in a trembling voice.
"No, it is not madness, but delirium; he will soon fall asleep—do not leave him; when he awakes he will remember nothing. If he ask for drink give him the potion I have prepared, and which is on that table."
"Yes, Major."
"Now I am going to retire; if any unforeseen accident occur, warn me at once; but, in any case, I shall look in again tonight."
The surgeon left the cabin; his previsions were soon realised, M. de Barmont gradually fell into a calm and peaceful sleep.
The two sailors stood motionless by his bedside; no nurse could have watched a patient with greater care and more delicate attention than did these two men, whose exterior seemed so hard, but whose hearts were really so kind.
The whole night passed away thus; the surgeon had come in several times, but after a few minutes' examination he withdrew with an air of satisfaction, and laying a finger on his lips.
About morning, at the first sunbeam that entered the cabin, the Count made a slight movement, opened his eyes, and slightly turned his head.
"My good Michael, give me some drink," he said, in a feeble voice.
The sailor handed him a glass.
"I feel crushed," he muttered; "have I been ill?"
"Yes, a little," the sailor replied; "but now it is all over, thank heaven! You need only have patience."
"I feel the motion of the frigate—are we under weigh?"
"Yes, Commandant."
"And who gave the orders?"
"Yourself, last night."
"Ah!" he remarked, as he handed back the glass. His head fell heavily on the pillow again, and he was silent.
Still, he did not sleep; his eyes were opened, and gazed anxiously all around.
"I remember," he murmured, while two tears welled in his eyes; then he suddenly addressed Michael.
"It was you who picked me up and brought me aboard?"
"Yes, Captain, 'twas."
"Thanks! and yet it would have perhaps been better to leave me to die."
The sailor shrugged his shoulders disdainfully.
"That is a fine idea, strike me!" he grumbled.
"Oh, if you only knew," he said, sorrowfully.
"I knew all; did I not warn you of it the first day?"
"That is true; I ought to have believed you—but, alas! I already loved her."
"Zounds! I knew that, and she deserved it."
"Does she still love me?"
"Who can doubt it, poor dear creature?"
"You are a good man, Michael."
"I am just."
There was another silence.
At the expiration of a few minutes the Count renewed the conversation.
"Did you find the letter?" he asked. "Where is it?"
"Here," he said, as he handed it to him.
The Count eagerly clutched it.
"Have you read it?" he asked.
"For what purpose?" said Michael. "Zounds, it must be a tissue of lies and infamies! And I am not curious about reading such things."
"There, take it," said the Count.
"To tear it up?"
"No, to read it."
"What's the good?"
"You must know the contents of the letter—I order it."
"That is different—give it here."
He took the letter, opened, and ran through it.
"Read it aloud," said the Count.
"That is a pretty job you give me, Commandant. Still, as you wish it, I must obey you."
"I implore you, Michael."
"Enough, Captain."
And he began reading the strange missive aloud.
It was short and laconic, but on that very account it necessarily produced a more terrible effect, because every word was carefully chosen to go straight home.
The following was its tenor:—
MY LORD,
You have not married my daughter: I defrauded you by a false marriage. You shall never see her again—she is dead to you. For many years there has been an implacable hatred between your family and mine. I should not have gone to seek you, but Heaven itself brought you in my way. I understood that it was desired I should avenge myself, and I obeyed. I believe that I have succeeded in breaking your heart forever. The love you have for my daughter is sincere and deep. All the better, for you will suffer the more cruelly. Farewell, my lord. Believe me, you had better not try to find me, for, if you succeed, my vengeance will be even more terrible. My daughter will marry in a month the man she loves, and whom alone she has ever loved.
"Don Estevan de Sylva, Duc de Peñaflor."
When the sailor had finished reading he turned an enquiring glance to his chief. The latter shook his head several times, but made no other reply.
Michael handed back the letter, which the Captain at once concealed beneath his pillow.
"What do you intend to do?" the sailor asked him, a moment after.
"You shall know hereafter," the Count answered, in a hollow voice. "I could not form a determination now, for my head is still heavy, and I require to reflect."
Michael gave a nod of assent.
At this moment the doctor came in. He appeared delighted at seeing his patient in so good a state, and with a joyous rubbing of his hands, promised that he should leave his bed in a week at the latest.
In fact, the surgeon was not mistaken, for the Count rapidly recovered; ere long he was able to rise, and at the end of a few days, were it not for a cadaverous pallor spread over his face, and which he ever retained, his strength seemed to have entirely come back to him.
M. de Barmont steered his frigate up the Tagus, and anchored before Lisbon. So soon as the vessel was moored the Captain summoned the second in command to his cabin, and had a long conversation with him, after which he went ashore with Michael and Bowline.
The frigate remained under the command of the first lieutenant: the Count had abandoned it for ever.
This deed almost constituted a desertion; but M. de Barmont was resolved on returning to Cadiz at all hazards.
During the few days that had elapsed since his conference with Michael, the Count had reflected, as he promised the sailor.
The result of his reflections was, that Doña Clara had been deceived by the Duke like himself, and believed herself really married—indeed, the whole of the young lady's behaviour to him proved the fact. In desiring to insure his vengeance too thoroughly, the Duke had gone beyond his object: Doña Clara loved him, he felt certain of that. She had only obeyed her father under the constraint of force.
This admitted, only one thing was left the Count to do; to return to Cadiz, collect information, find the Duke, and have a solemn explanation with him in his daughter's presence.
This plan drawn up in his mind, the young man immediately set, about carrying it out, leaving the command of his vessel to the lieutenant, at the risk of destroying his career and being pursued as a traitor, as the war was raging between France and Spain. He freighted a coaster; and, followed by his two sailors, to whom he had frankly explained his intention, but who would not leave him, he returned to Cadiz.
Thanks to the thorough knowledge of Spanish he possessed, the Count did not arouse any suspicions in that city, where it was easy for him to obtain the information he desired.
The Duke had really set out for Madrid. The Count at once proceeded to that city. A gentleman of the importance of the Duc de Peñaflor, a grandee of Spain of the first class, acaballero cubierto, could not travel without leaving traces, especially when nothing led him to suspect that he was followed. Hence the Count had not the slightest difficulty in discovering the route he had taken, and he arrived at Madrid, persuaded that he should soon have with the Duke the explanation he so ardently desired.
But his hopes were foiled. The Duke, after being honored with a private audience by the King, had set out for Barcelona.
Fatality interfered, but the Count would not be baffled: he mounted his horse, crossed Spain, and arrived at Barcelona.
The Duke had embarked for Naples on the previous day.
This pursuit was assuming the proportions of an Odyssey: it seemed as if the Duke felt that he was being pursued.
It was not so, however. He was carrying out a mission with which his sovereign had entrusted him.
The Count made enquiries, and learnt that the Duc de Peñaflor was accompanied by his daughter, and two sons.
Two days later, M. de Barmont was sailing to Naples, on board a smuggling vessel.
We will not enter into all the details of this obstinate pursuit, which lasted for several months.
We will confine ourselves to saying that the Count missed the Duke at Naples, as he had missed him at Madrid and Barcelona, and that he traversed the whole of Italy, and entered France, still in chase of his intangible enemy, who seemed to fly before him.
But during the interval, although the Count did not suspect, the parts had been greatly modified, if not completely changed.
In this way.
The Duke had a great interest in knowing what the Count would do. Though it was certain that the war would compel him to leave Spain, still he was too well acquainted with the young man's resolute and determined character to suppose for a moment that he would accept the insult offered him, without trying to take a startling revenge.
In consequence, he had left at Cadiz a confidential man with orders to watch the Count's movements with the greatest care, in the event of his reappearing, and to warn the Duke of what steps he might take.
The man had conscientiously and most skilfully discharged the delicate duty entrusted to him, and while the Count was pursuing the Duke, he pursued the Count, never letting him out of sight, stopping when he stopped, and setting out behind him directly he saw him start.
When at last he felt assured that the Count was really after his master, he got ahead of him, rejoined the Duke, whom he came up with in the neighbourhood of Pignerol, and reported to him all that he had learned.
The Duke, though internally terrified by the hateful persistency of his enemy, pretended to attach but very slight importance to this communication, and smiled contemptuously on listening to his servant's report.
But, for all this, he did not neglect to take his precautions; and, as peace was on the point of being signed, and a Spanish plenipotentiary was in Paris, he sent off the same valet to him at full speed, with a pressing letter.
This letter was a formal denunciation of the Count de Barmont Senectaire.
Cardinal de Richelieu raised no difficulty about granting an order to arrest the Count, and police agents of his Eminence, commanded by François Bouillot, left Paris in pursuit of the unhappy officer.
The latter, completely ignorant of what was going on, had continued his journey, and even gained ground on the Duke, who, persuaded that henceforth he would have nothing to fear from his enemy, as the latter would be arrested before he could come up with him, now travelled by easy stages.
The Duke's calculations were false, however. He had not reflected that the Cardinal's guards, not knowing where to find the man whom they had orders to arrest, and obliged to feel their way, would be compelled to almost double their journey: and this really occurred.
Moreover, as, with the exception of Bouillot, not one of them was personally acquainted with the Count, and he, as we now know, desired nothing so much as the Count's escape, he passed through the midst of them unsuspected, which occasioned them a great loss of time, by compelling them to turn back.
We have already narrated how, after the stormy explanation which took place between father-in-law and son-in-law, the latter was arrested, taken by Bouillot to the Isle St. Marguerite, and delivered over to Major de l'Oursière. And now that we have fully explained the respective positions of each of our characters, we will resume our narrative at the point where we left it.
We have mentioned that after proof of identity, and perusal of the order of arrest, Major de l'Oursière, governor of the fortress of St. Marguerite, had the Count conducted to the room which was to serve as his prison, until the day when it might please the Cardinal to restore him to liberty.
This room, very spacious and lofty, of an octagonal shape, and with whitewashed walls, fifteen feet thick, was only lighted by two narrow loopholes, covered with an under and outer iron trelliswork, which completely prevented any looking out.
A large chimney, with a wide mantelpiece, occupied one corner of the room: facing was a bed, composed of a thin palliasse and a narrow mattress laid on a deal bedstead, formerly painted yellow, though time had completely removed the colour.
A rickety table, a stool, a chair, a night commode, and an iron candlestick, completed the furniture, which was more than modest.
This room was situated on the highest floor of the tower, the platform of which, where a sentry tramped day and night, served as the ceiling.
The soldier drew the bolts that garnished the iron-lined door of this room. The Count entered, with a firm step.
After taking a glance at these cold, sad walls, destined henceforward to serve him as a habitation, he sat down on a chair, crossed his arms on his breast, hung his head, and began to reflect.
The soldier, or rather gaoler, who had gone out, returned an hour later, and found him in the same position.
He brought with him sheets, blankets, and wood to light a fire. Behind him two soldiers carried the portmanteau containing the prisoner's clothes and linen, which they placed in a corner, and retired.
The gaoler at once set to work making the bed. Then he swept the room and lit the fire. When these different duties were accomplished, he approached the prisoner.
"My lord?" he said to him politely.
"What do you want with me, my friend?" the Count answered, raising his head and looking at him gently.
"The governor of the castle desires the honour of an interview with you, as he says he has an important communication to make."
"I am at the governor's orders," the Count said laconically.
The gaoler bowed and went out.
"What can the man want with me?" the Count muttered, so soon as he was alone.
He had not long to wait, for the door opened again and the governor made his appearance.
The prisoner rose to receive him, bowed, and then silently waited for him to speak.
The Major made the gaoler a sign to withdraw, and then, after a fresh bow, he said with cold politeness,—
"My lord Count, gentlemen should respect each other. Although the orders I have received on your account from the Cardinal are very strict, I still desire to shew you any attention that is not incompatible with my duty. I have, therefore, come to you frankly in order to have an understanding on the subject."
The Count guessed to what this speech tended, but did not let it be seen, and answered,—
"Mr. Governor, I am grateful, as I ought to be, for the steps you have been kind enough to take; may I ask you, therefore, to have the goodness to explain to me the nature of your orders, and what the favours are by which you can alleviate their severity. But, in the first place, as I am at home here," he added, with a melancholy smile; "do me the honour of seating yourself."
The Major bowed, but remained standing.
"It is unnecessary, my lord," he remarked, "as what I have to say to you is very short; in the first place, you will observe that I have had the delicacy to send you the trunk containing your effects unexamined as I had the right to do."
"I allow the fact, Major, and feel obliged; to you for it."
The Major bowed.
"As you are an officer, my lord," he said, "you are aware that his Eminence the Cardinal, although he is a great man, is not very liberal to officers whose infirmity or wounds compel them to quit the service."
"That is true."
"The governors of fortresses more especially, although nominated by the King, being obliged to pay a long price to their predecessors for the office, are reduced to a perfect state of want, if they have not saved up some money."
"I was not aware of that circumstance, sir, and fancied that the governorship of a fortress was a reward."
"So it is, my lord, but we have to pay for the command of fortresses like this, which are employed as state prisons."
"Ah! Very good."
"You understand, it is supposed that the governor makes a profit by the prisoners intrusted to his keeping."
"Of course, sir; are there at present many unhappy men who have incurred the displeasure of His Eminence detained in this castle?"
"Alas, sir, you are the only one, and that is exactly the reason why I desire to have an amicable settlement with you."
"For my part, be assured, sir, that I desire nothing more earnestly."
"I am convinced of that, and hence will discuss the question frankly."
"Do so, sir, do so; I am listening to you with the most serious attention."
"I have orders, sir, not to let you communicate with anyone but your gaoler, to give you neither books, papers, pens, or ink, and never to allow you to quit this room; it appears there is great fear of your escape from here, and his Eminence is anxious to keep you."
"I am extremely obliged to his Eminence, but luckily for me," the Count answered with a smile, "instead of having to deal with a gaoler, I am dependent on a true soldier, who, while strictly obeying his orders, considers it unnecessary to torture a prisoner already so unhappy as to have fallen into disgrace with the King and the Cardinal minister."
"You have judged me correctly, my lord, though the orders are so strict. I command alone in this castle, where I have no control to fear. Hence I hope to have it in my power to relax the rigor I am commanded to show you."
"Whatever may be your intention in that respect, allow me, sir, in my turn to speak like a frank and loyal sailor. As prisoner of your King, doubtless for a very long time, money is perfectly useless to me; though not rich, I enjoy a certain ease, on which I congratulate myself, as this ease permits me to requite any polite attentions you may show me; service for service, sir, I will give you every year 10,000 livres, paid in advance; and, on your side, will you allow me to procure, at my own charges of course, all the objects susceptible of alleviating my captivity."
The Major felt as if about to faint. The old officer of fortune had never in his whole life possessed so large a sum.
The Count continued without seeming to notice the effect his words produced on the governor.
"Well then, that is quite understood. To the sum the King pays you for my board, we will add 200 livres a month, or 2,400 per annum, for papers, pens, ink, &c., suppose we say the round sum of 3,000 livres, does that suit you?"
"Ah, Sir, it is too much, a great deal too much."
"No, Sir, since I assist an honourable man, who will owe me thanks for it."
"Ah! I shall be eternally grateful, sir; but, do not be angry with my frankness, you will oblige me to offer up vows to keep you as long as possible."
"Who knows, sir, whether my departure will not some day be more advantageous than my stay here?" he said with a meaning smile; "be good enough to lend me your tablets."
The Major offered them to him.
The Count tore out a leaf, with a few pencilled words on it, and handed it back to him.
"Here," he said, "is a draught for 16,000 livres, which you can receive at sight from Messrs. Dubois, Loustal, and Co., of Toulon, whenever you have leisure."
The governor clutched the paper with a start of joy.
"But it seems to me that this draft is 800 livres in excess of the sum agreed on between us?" he said.
"That is correct, sir, but the 800 livres are for the purchase of different articles, of which here is the list, and which I must ask you to procure for me."
"You shall have them tomorrow, my lord," and after bowing very low the governor walked backwards out of the room.
"Come," the Count muttered gaily, when the heavy door had closed on the Major; "I was not deceived, I judged that man correctly, and his is really perfect, but his most thoroughly developed vice is decidedly avarice; I can make something of it, I fancy, when I like, but I must not go ahead too fast, but act with the greatest prudence."
Certain of not being disturbed, at least for some hours, the Count opened the trunk brought in by the two soldiers, in order to convince himself whether the governor had told him the truth, and the contents were really intact.
The trunk had not been examined.
In the foresight of a probable arrest, the Count when he started in pursuit of the Duc de Peñaflor, had purchased several objects which he found again with the most lively satisfaction.
In addition to a certain quantity of clothes and linen, the trunk contained a very fine and strong silk cord, nearly one hundred fathoms in length, two pairs of pistols, a dagger, a sword, powder and bullets, objects which the governor would have confiscated without any scruple, had he seen them, and which the Count had laid in at all risks, trusting to chance.
There were also several iron and steel tools, and concealed in a double bottom, a very heavy purse containing the sum of 25,000 livres in gold, in addition to another almost equally large amount in Spanish quadruples sewn into a wide leathern belt.
So soon as the Count was certain that the Major had told him the truth, he carefully locked the trunk again, hung the key round his neck by a steel chain, and sat down quietly in the chimney corner.
His meditations were interrupted by the gaoler. This time the man not only brought him bed furniture, far superior to what he had given him before, but he had added a carpet, a mirror, and even toilet utensils.
A cloth was spread on a table, upon which he placed in a moment a very appetising dinner.
"The Major begs me to apologize, sir," he said; "tomorrow he will send you what you asked for. In the meanwhile he has forwarded you some books."
"Very good, my friend," the Count replied.
"What is your name?"
"La Grenade, sir."
"Has the Governor selected you to wait on me?"
"Yes, sir."
"My friend, you appear to me a good fellow, here are three louis for you. I will give you the same amount every month if I am satisfied with your attention."
"Had you given me nothing, sir," La Grenade replied, as he took the money, "it would not have prevented me from serving you with all the zeal of which I am capable, and if I receive these three louis, it is only because a poor devil like me has no right to refuse a present from so generous a gentleman as you. But, I repeat, sir, I am quite at your service, and you can employ me in whatever way you please."
"Goodness!" the Count said, in surprise; "and yet I do not know you, as far as I am aware, La Grenade—whence, may I ask, comes this great devotion to my person?"
"I am most willing to tell you, sir, if it interests you. I am a friend of M. François Bouillot, to whom I am under certain obligations; he ordered me to serve and obey you in everything."
"That good Bouillot," said the Count. "Very well, my friend, I shall not be ungrateful. I do not want you anymore at present."
The gaoler put some logs on the fire, lit the lamp, and withdrew.
"Well," said the Count, with a laugh, "Heaven forgive me! I believe that, though a prisoner in appearance, I am as much master of this castle as the governor, and that I can leave it without opposition on any day I like. What would the Cardinal think if he knew how his orders were executed?"
He sat down to table, unfolded his napkin, and began dining with a good appetite.
Things went on thus, in the way agreed on between the Governor and his prisoner.
The arrival of Count de Barmont at the fortress had been a windfall for the Major, who, since he had received from the royal munificence the command of this castle as retiring pension, had not once before had an opportunity to derive any profit from the position that had been given him. Hence he promised to make a gold mine of his solitary prisoner; for the Isle of St. Marguerite, as we have already remarked, had not yet acquired the reputation which it merited at a later date as a State prison.
The Count's room was furnished as well as it could be; everything he demanded in the shape of books was procured him, though he had to pay dearly for them, and he was even allowed to walk on the towers.
The Count was happy—so far, at least, as the circumstances in which he found himself allowed him to be so: no one would have supposed, on seeing him work so assiduously at mathematics and navigation, for he applied himself most seriously to the completion of his maritime education, that this man nourished in his heart a thought of implacable vengeance, and that this thought was ever present to him.
At the first blush, the resolution formed by the Count to allow himself to be incarcerated, while it was easy for him to remain free, may seem strange: but the Count was one of those men of granite whose thoughts are immutable, and who, when they have once formed a resolution, after calculating with the utmost coolness all the chances for and against, follow the road they have laid down for themselves, ever marching in a straight line without caring for the obstacles that arise at each step on their path and surmounting them, because they decided from the first that they would do so—characters that grow and are perfected in the struggle, and sooner or later reach the goal they have designed.
The Count understood that any resistance to the Cardinal would result in his own utter ruin; and there was no lack of proofs to support this reasoning: by escaping from the guards who were taking him to prison, he would remain at liberty, it is true, but he would be exiled, obliged to quit France, and wander about in foreign parts alone, isolated, without resources, ever on the watch, forced to hide himself, and reduced to the impossibility of asking, that is to say, of obtaining the necessary information he required to avenge himself on the man who, by robbing him of the wife he loved, had at the same blow not only destroyed his career and fortune, but also eternally ruined his happiness.
He was young, and could wait; vengeance is eaten cold, say the southerners—and the Count came from Languedoc. Besides, as he had said to Bouillot, in a moment of expansiveness, he wished to suffer, in order to kill within him every human feeling that still existed, and to find himself one day armedcap-à-pieto face his enemy.
Cardinal Richelieu and Louis XIII. were both seriously ill. Their death would not fail to produce a change of reign in two, three, or four years at the most, and that catastrophe would arrive, one of whose consequences it is to produce a reaction, and consequently, to open to all the prisoners of the defunct Cardinal the dungeons to which he had condemned them.
The Count was twenty-five years of age: hence time was his own, and the more so because, when restored to liberty, he would enter on all his rights, and as an enemy of Richelieu, be favourably regarded at Court, and, through the temporary credit he would enjoy, be in a condition to regain all the advantage he had lost as concerned his foe.
Only energetically endowed men, who are sure of themselves, are capable of making such calculations, and obstinately pursuing a line of conduct so opposed to all logical combinations; but these men who thus resolutely enlist chance on their side, and reckon on it as a partner, always succeed in what they purpose doing, unless death suddenly cuts them short.
Through the intercession of La Grenade, and the tacit connivance of the Governor, who closed his eyes with a charming inattention, the Count was not only cognizant with all that was going on outside, but also received letters from his friends, which he answered.
One day, after reading a letter which la Grenade had given him when bringing in breakfast, a letter from the Duc de Bellegarde, which had reached him through Michael, for the worthy sailor had refused to leave his Commandant, and had turned fisherman at Antibes, with Bowline as his assistant, the Count sent a message to the Governor, requesting a few minutes' conversation with him.
The Major knew that every visit he paid his prisoner was a profit to him, hence he hastened to his room.
"Have you heard the news, sir?" the Count said at once on seeing him.
"What news, my lord?" the Major asked, in amazement, for he knew nothing.
In fact, placed as he was at the extreme frontier of the kingdom, news, no matter its importance, only reached him, so to speak, by accident.
"The Cardinal Minister is dead, sir. I have just learned it from a sure hand."
"Oh!" said the Major, clasping his hands, for this death might cause him the loss of his place.
"And," the Count added, coldly, "His Majesty King Louis XIII. is at death's door."
"Great heaven, what a misfortune!" exclaimed the Governor.
"This misfortune may be fortunate for you, sir," the Count resumed.
"Fortunate! When I am menaced with the loss of my command! Alas, my lord, what will become of me if I am turned out of here?"
"That might easily, happen," said the Count. "You have, sir, always been a great friend of the defunct Cardinal, and known as such."
"That is, unhappily, too true," the Major muttered, quite out of countenance, and recognizing the truth of this affirmation.
"There is, I think, an advantageous mode of arranging matters."
"What is it, my lord? Speak, I implore you!"
"It is this: listen to me carefully—what I am going to say is very serious for you."
"I am listening, my lord."
"Here is a letter all ready written for the Duc de Bellegarde. You will start at once for Paris, passing through Toulon, where you will cash this draft for 2000 livres, to cover your expenses. The Duke is sincerely attached to me. For my sake he will receive you kindly: you will come to an understanding with him, and obey him in everything he orders."
"Yes, yes, my lord."
"And if within a month from this time at the latest—"
"From this time at the latest—" the Governor repeated, panting with impatience.
"You bring me here my full and entire—pardon, signed by H. M. Louis XIII.—"
"What?" the Governor exclaimed, with a start of surprise.
"I will at once pay you," the Count continued, coldly, "the sum of 50,000 livres, to indemnify you for the loss my liberation must entail on you."
"Fifty thousand livres!" the Major exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with greed.
"Fifty thousand! yes, sir," the Count replied. "And, besides, I pledge myself, if you wish it, to get you confirmed in your command. Is this matter settled?"
"But, my lord, how am I to manage at Paris?"
"Follow the instructions the Duc de Bellegarde will give you."
"What you ask of me is very difficult."
"Not so difficult as you pretend to believe, sir; however, if this mission does not suit you—"
"I did not say that, sir."
"In a word, you can take it or leave it."
"I take it, my lord—I take it. Great heaven!—fifty thousand livres!"
"And you start?"
"Tomorrow."
"No, tonight."
"Very good—tonight."
"All right! Here are the letter and the draft. Oh! by the way, try to put yourself in communication with a fisherman at Antibes of the name of Michael."
"I know him," the Major said, with a smile.
"Indeed!" said the Count. "There would be no harm, either, in your trying to find the exempt who brought me here, one François Bouillot."
"I know where to find him," the Major replied, with the same meaning smile.
"Very good! in that case, my dear Governor, I have nothing more to add, or any recommendations to make to you, beyond wishing you a pleasant journey."
"It will be so, my lord, I pledge you my word."
"It is true that it is a round sum—fifty thousand livres!"
"I shall not forget the amount."
After saying this the Major took leave of his prisoner, and retired, with a profusion of bows.
"I believe that I am going to be free this time!" the Count exclaimed, so soon as he was alone—"Ah! my lord Duke, we are now about to fight with equal weapons!"
Had it been possible for Count de Barmont to notice through the thick oak planks, lined with iron, that formed the door of his prison, the face of the governor on leaving him, he would not have chanted victory so loudly, or believed himself so near his deliverance.
In fact, so soon as the Major had no longer cause to dread his prisoner's clear-sighted glance, his features immediately assumed an expression of cynical malice impossible to render; his half-closed eyes flashed with a gloomy fire beneath his grey eyelids and an ironical smile raised the corners of his pale thin lips.
It was twilight; night was beginning to fall, and confound all objects, by burying them in a dark pall, which momentarily grew denser.
The Major returned to his apartments, put a heavy cloak on his shoulders, pulled his hat over his eyes, and sent for his lieutenant.
The latter presented himself at once.
He was a man of about forty, with a delicate and intelligent face, whose features were imprinted with gentleness and even kindness.
"I am starting this moment, sir," the governor said to him, "for Antibes, whither important business summons me; my absence will probably be prolonged for several days. While I remain absent from the castle, I invest you with the command; watch over its safety, and guard against any attempted escape on the part of the prisoner, though I doubt his making it. Such attempts, though they do not succeed, injure the reputation of a fortress, and the character of its governor."
"I will watch with the greatest care, sir!"
"I am certain of that, sir. Is there any fishing boat in the roads? I should prefer not using the boat belonging to the fortress, as the garrison is so weak."
"The fishing boat you generally use, sir, and which is commanded by one Michael, I think, was alongside the quay hardly an hour ago, but he has probably started to fish outside the reef, as he usually does."
"Hum," said the Major, "even were he still there, I should scruple at making the poor fellow lose so much time in putting me ashore. These fishermen are not rich, and every minute you take from them makes them lose a part of the trifling profit of a long and hard night's work."
The officer bowed, apparently sharing his chief's philanthropic ideas, although his face evidenced the surprise which the expression of such sentiments by a man like the Major caused him.
"Are there no other boats here?" the Major asked, affecting an air of indifference.
"I beg your pardon, sir, a smuggling lugger is just about putting out to sea."
"Very good; warn the master that I wish him to take me on board. Be good enough to make haste, sir, for I am in a hurry."
The officer withdrew to carry out the order given him; the Major took some papers, doubtless important, from an iron casket, hid them under his coat, wrapped himself in his cloak, and left the castle, under the salute of the sentries who presented arms as he passed.
"Well?" he asked the officer who came to meet him.
"I have spoken to the master, sir, he awaits you," the other replied.
"I thank you, sir; now, return to the castle, and watch carefully over its safety till my return."
The officer took leave, and the Major proceeded toward a sort of small quay, where the lugger's yawl was waiting for him.
So soon as the governor was aboard, the smuggler let go the hawser, and set sail.
When the light vessel was well under weigh, the master respectfully walked up to the Major.
"Where are we to steer?" he asked, as he doffed his woollen nightcap.
"Ah, ah! is it you, Master Nicaud?" the governor said; for, accustomed to have dealings with the smugglers, he knew most of them by their names.
"Myself, at your service, if I can do anything, Mr. Governor," the master answered politely.
"Tell me," said the Major, "would you like to earn ten louis?"
The sailor burst into a hearty laugh.
"You are joking with me, of course, Mr. Governor," he said.
"Not at all," the Major went on, "and the proof is, here they are," he added, as he drew from his pocket a handful of gold, which he carelessly tossed in his hand; "I am therefore awaiting your answer."
"Hang it, Mr. Governor, you are well aware that ten louis forms a very fine lump of money for a poor fellow like me; I am most willing to earn the canaries, what must I do for them?"
"Well, a very simple thing! take me to St. Honorat, where I feel inclined for a stroll."
"At this time of night?" the master remarked in surprise.
The Major bit his lips on perceiving that he had made a foolish remark.
"I am very fond of the picturesque, and wish to enjoy the effect of the convent ruins in the moonlight."
"That is an idea like any other," the skipper answered; "and as you pay me, Mr. Governor, I can have no objection."
"That is true. Then you will take me to Saint Honorat, land me in your boat, and stand off and on while waiting for me. Is that agreed?"
"Perfectly."
"Ah! I have a decided taste for solitude, and hence I must insist on none of your men landing on the island while I am there."
"The whole crew shall remain on board, I promise you."
"All right, I trust to you, here is the money."
"Thanks," said the skipper, pocketing it; then he said to the steerer, "down with the helm," and added, "Hilloh, my lads, brace the sheets to larboard."
The vessel quickly came up to the wind, and leaped over the waves in the direction of Saint Honorat, whose black outlines stood out on the horizon.
It is but a short passage between Saint Marguerite and Saint Honorat, especially for such a clipper as the smuggling lugger.
The vessel was soon off the island.
The master lay to, and ordered a boat to be let down.
"Mr. Governor," he said respectfully, doffing his cap, and stopping the governor, who was walking up and down in the stern; "we are all ready, and the boat waits for you."
"Already! All the better," the latter answered.
At the moment when he was going to get into the boat, the skipper arrested him.
"Have you pistols?" he asked him.
"Pistols?" he said as he turned round, "What for? is not this island deserted?"
"Entirely."
"Hence I can run no risk."
"Not the slightest; hence that is not the reason why I asked you the question."
"What is it then?"
"Hang it, it is as black as in the fiend's oven; there is no moon, you cannot distinguish an object ten yards from you. How shall I know when you want to come on board again, unless you warn me by a signal?"
"That is true; what had I better do?"
"Here is a pistol, it is not loaded, but there is powder in the pan, and you can squib it."
"Thanks," said the Major, taking the pistol, and thrusting it through his girdle.
He got into the boat, which was dancing on the waves, and sat down in the stern sheets; four vigorous sailors bending over the oars made her fly through the water.
"A pleasant trip," the skipper shouted.
It appeared to the Major as if this wish had been uttered with a very marked ironical tone by Master Nicaud, but he attached no further importance to it, and turned his eyes toward land, which was gradually looming larger.
Ere long the boat's bows grated on the sand; they had arrived.
The Major went ashore, and after ordering the sailors to return aboard, he drew his cloak over his face, went off with long steps, and soon disappeared in the darkness.
However, instead of obeying the injunction given them, three of the sailors landed in their turn, and followed the Major at a distance, while careful to keep themselves out of sight. The fourth, who remained to keep the boat, hid the latter behind a point, secured it to a projecting rock, and leaping ashore, fusil in hand, he remained on the watch with his eyes fixed on the interior of the island.
The Major, in the meanwhile, continued to advance hurriedly in the direction of the ruins, whose imposing outline was already beginning to present itself to his eyes, borrowing from the surrounding gloom a still more imposing aspect.
The Major, convinced that his orders had been punctually carried out, for he had no motive to distrust Master Nicaud, whom he had ever and under all circumstances found willing and faithful, walked on without turning his head, or even taking precautions, which he considered unnecessary, as he was far from suspecting that several men were following his footsteps, and watching his movements.
It was easy to see from the deliberate manner in which he walked, and the facility with which he evaded obstacles and found his way in the darkness, that this was not the first time the Major had come to this spot, though it appeared so solitary and deserted.
After entering the ruins, M. de l'Oursière passed through a cloister, encumbered with shapeless fragments, and forcing his way between stones and brambles, he entered the chapel, a magnificent specimen of the purest Roman style, whose crumbling roof had fallen in under the incessant efforts of time, and only the choir and apse still remained intact amid broken columns and desecrated altars.
The Major passed through the choir, and reached the apse, where he halted.
After carefully examining for a moment the surrounding objects, as if he expected to find someone or something he did not perceive, he at length resolved to clap his hands thrice.
At the same moment a man rose scarce two paces from him.
This sudden apparition, though he fully expected it, made the Major start, and he fell back a step, laying his hand on his sword.
"Ah, ah, my master," the stranger said, in a mocking voice, "pray do you take me for a spectre, that I cause you such terror?"
The man was wrapped up in a thick cloak, whose folds concealed his shape, while a broad leafed plumed hat entirely covered his face and rendered him completely unrecognizable. Only the end of his cloak raised by the scabbard of a long rapier, proved that whoever the man might be, he had not come unarmed to this gloomy rendezvous.
"I am at your orders, sir," the Major said, raising his hand to his hat, but without removing it.
"And ready to serve me, no doubt," the stranger resumed.
"That depends," the Major remarked roughly, "times are no longer the same."
"Ah, ah," the stranger continued still sarcastically, "what news is there? I shall be delighted to learn it of you."
"You know it as well as I do, sir."
"No matter, tell me all the same what the great news is, that thus produces modifications in our relations which have hitherto been so amicable?"
"It is useless to jeer thus, sir; I have served you, you have paid me, and we are quits."
"Perhaps so, but go on. I presume you wish to propose a new bargain to me?"
"I have nothing to propose; I have merely come because you expressed a desire to see me, that is all."
"And your prisoner, are you still satisfied with him?"
"More than ever. He is a charming gentleman, who does not at all deserve the melancholy fate thrust on him; I really feel an interest in him."
"Confound it, that comes expensive, I did not take that interest into account, and I was wrong, I see."
"What do you mean, sir?" the Major protested with an indignant air.
"Nothing but what I say to you, my dear sir. Hang it, you amuse me with your scruples, after taking money from all parties during the last eighteen months; the Cardinal is dead and the King is on the point of following him, that is what you wished to tell me, is it not? A new reign is preparing, and it is probable that, if only through a spirit of contradiction, the new government will upset everything done by the one that preceded it, and that its first care will be to open the prison doors; you also wished to tell me that Count de Barmont, who possesses warm friends at court, who will not fail to employ their influence on his behalf, cannot fail to be set at liberty ere long. Confusion, I knew all that as well and even better than you, but what matter?"
"How, what matter?"
"Certainly, if Count de Barmont has devoted friends, he has implacable enemies; bear that in mind."
"And the result will be?"
"That in four days at the latest, you will receive an order signed by Louis XIII. himself."
"To what effect?"
"Oh! Good heaven, no great thing, except that Count de Barmont will be immediately transferred from St. Marguerite to the Bastille; and once there," he added in a hollow voice, which made the Major shudder involuntarily, "a man is eternally erased from the number of the living or only leaves it a corpse or a maniac. Do you comprehend me now?"
"Yes, I understand you, sir; but who guarantees that the Count will not have escaped before the four days to which you refer?"
"Oh! With a governor like yourself, Major, such an eventuality seems to me highly improbable."
"Well, well," the Major observed, "very extraordinary tales are told about the escape of prisoners."
"That is true; but another thing reassures me against this escape."
"And what is that, sir?"
"Merely that the Count himself declared that he would never consent to escape, and was not at all anxious about liberty."
"Well, sir, that is the very thing that deceives you; it seems that he has now changed his opinion, and is eagerly soliciting through his friends to obtain his liberty."
"Ah! Have we come to that point?" the stranger said, fixing on the Major a glance which flashed through the gloom.
The governor bowed.
There was a silence, during which no other sound was audible, save that of the heavy flight of the nocturnal birds in the ruins.
"A truce to further chattering," the stranger resumed in a fierce voice; "how much do you ask to prevent the prisoner escaping until the king's order reaches you?"
"Two hundred thousand livres," the Major answered roughly.
"Was I not right in telling you that it would be expensive?" the stranger said with a grin.
"Dear or not, that is my price, and I shall not bate it."
"Very good, you shall have it."
"When?"
"Tomorrow."
"That will be too late."
"What?" the stranger asked haughtily.
"I said it would be too late," the Major repeated imperturbably.
"In that case, when must you have it?"
"At once."
"Do you fancy I carry 200,000 livres about me?"
"I do not say that, but I can accompany you where you are going, and on reaching Antibes, we will say, you can pay me the amount."
"That is a good plan."
"Is it not?"
"Yes, only there is an obstacle to its success."
"I do not see one."
"But I do."
"What is it, sir?"
"That, if I give you a meeting here, and come disguised and alone, I have probably an object."
"Of course! You wish to remain incog."
"You are full of penetration, my dear sir; and yet we can come to an understanding."
"I do not see how, unless you consent to what I ask."
"You are a judge of diamonds, since we have hitherto only bargained in them."
"That is true, I am a tolerable judge of them."
"Here is one that is worth 100,000 crowns, take it."
And he offered a small case of black shagreen.
The Major eagerly seized it.
"But," he objected, "how can I be certain that you are not deceiving me?"
"An affecting confession," the stranger observed laughingly.
"Business is business, I risk my soul in serving you."
"As for your soul, my dear sir, reassure yourself; in that quarter you have nothing to risk. But I will give you the satisfaction you desire."
And taking a dark lanthorn from under his cloak, he let the light play on the diamond.
The Major only required one glance to assure himself of the value of the rich reward offered him.
"Are you satisfied?" the stranger asked, as he placed the lanthorn again under his cloak.
"Here is the proof," the Major answered, as he concealed the box, and handed him a bundle of papers.
"What is this?" the stranger inquired.
"Papers of great importance for you, in the sense that they will tell you who the Count's friends are, and the means they can employ to restore him to liberty."
"Bravo!" the stranger exclaimed, as he eagerly took the bundle of papers; "I no longer regret having paid so heavy a price for your assistance. Now we have discussed every point, I think?"
"I think so too."
"In that case, farewell! When I want you, I will let you know."
"Are you going already?"
"What the deuce would you have me do longer in this owl's nest? It is time for each of us to rejoin the persons waiting for us."
And after giving the Major a slight wave of the hand, he turned away and disappeared behind the ruins of the high altar.
At the same moment the stranger was suddenly seized by several men, so that not only was he unable to offer a useless resistance, but found himself bound and gagged before he had recovered from the surprise this attack had caused him.
His silent aggressors then left him rolling on the ground with convulsive bounds of impotent rage, and disappeared in the darkness without paying any further attention to him.
The Major, after a momentary hesitation, also resolved to leave the place, and slowly proceeded in the direction of the shore. On arriving within a certain distance, in obedience to skipper Nicaud's hint, he cocked his pistol and flashed the powder in the pan; then he continued to advance slowly.
The boat had doubtless made haste to meet him, for at the same moment as the Major reached the shore, its bows ran into the sand.
The governor stepped silently into it; twenty minutes after he found himself on board the lugger, where master Nicaud received him respectfully cap in hand.
The boat was hauled up to the davits, sail was set on the lugger, and she stood out to sea before a fresh breeze.
A lugger is a three mast vessel, with narrow lines aft and bulging bows; it has a foremast, mainmast, and a driver greatly inclined over the stern; its bowsprit is short; it carries large sails and at times topsails.
From this description it is easy to see that luggers have the same rig, on a larger scale, as chasse-marées.
Although the draft on water of these vessels is rather great aft, as they are generally quick and good sea boats, they are largely employed for smuggling purposes, in spite of the inconvenience of the large sails which have to be shifted with each tack.
The Seagull was a vessel of ninety tons, neatly fitted up, and carrying four small iron guns of eight to the pound, which caused her to bear a greater resemblance with a corsair than a peaceful coaster.
Still, in spite of a rather numerous crew, and her rakish appearance, during about a year since this vessel began frequenting the coast of Provence and the Lerins islands, not a word of harm had been said against her. Skipper Nicaud passed for an honest worthy man, although a little rough and quarrelsome,—faults, by the way, peculiar to nearly all sailors, and which in no way diminished the excellent reputation which the master of the Seagull enjoyed.
So soon as Major de l'Oursière had regained the lugger's deck, and the vessel had stood off, after taking a parting glance at St. Honorat, whose outline was gradually disappearing in the mist, he walked aft, seized the manrope and went down into the cabin.
But on entering the cabin, which he supposed to be unoccupied, as the skipper was on deck, the Major with difficulty restrained an exclamation of surprise.
There was a man in the cabin, seated at a table, and contently imbibing rum and water, while smoking an enormous pipe, and forming an aureole around him of bluish smoke.
In this man the Major recognised Michael the Basque, the fisherman.
After a moment's hesitation, the Major walked in, although the presence of this individual aboard the lugger was rather singular. Still there was nothing in the thing that should terrify the Major, who had no reason to suppose that Michael was hostile to him, or that he had anything to apprehend from him.
At the noise made by the Major on entering the cabin, the sailor half turned to him, though without removing the pipe from his lips. After taking a pull at the glass he held in his right hand, he said in a bantering tone,—
"Why, if I am not mistaken, it is our estimable governor of St. Marguerite; delighted to see you, I am sure, Major."
"Why," the Major replied, in the same key, "it's that worthy fellow, Michael. By what chance do I find you here, when I had a right to suppose you engaged fishing, at this moment, Lord knows where?"
"Ah!" said Michael, with a laugh; "There's as good fishing here as anywhere. Won't you take a seat, Major, or are you afraid of compromising your dignity by sitting down by the side of a poor fellow like me?"
"You do not think that," the Major answered, as he seated himself.
"Don't you smoke, eh?" Michael asked him.
"No; that is a sailor's amusement."
"It is so, Major. But I suppose you drink?"
The Major held out a glass, which the sailor liberally filled.
"Here's your health, Major. If I expected to meet anyone, it wasn't you, I assure you."
"I thought so."
"Indeed I didn't."
"Well, to tell you the truth, I did not expect to meet you, either."
"I am aware of that. You have come from St. Honorat."
"Hang it all! You cannot be ignorant of that fact, since I find you here."
"It was on your account, then, that we lost two hours in tacking between the islands, at the risk of running on to a reef, instead of attending to our business?"
"What do you mean by business? Are you a smuggler at present?"
"I am everything," Michael replied, laconically, emptying his glass.
"But what the deuce are you doing here?" asked the Major.
"What are you?" the sailor said, answering one question by another.
"I—I?" the Major began, in embarrassment.
"You hesitate!" Michael continued, banteringly. "Well, I will tell you, if you like."
"You, Michael?"
"Why not? You went to St. Honorat to admire the beauties of nature," and he burst into a hearty laugh. "Is it not so?"
"Yes. I have always passionately admired the picturesque. But that reminds me. I have forgotten to tell skipper Nicaud where I wish him to land me."
And he made a movement, as if to rise.
"It is unnecessary," the sailor said, obliging him to sit down again.