Now do I reverently thank God that by His mercy I was strong enough to take the course I adopted. For had I not done so, I know not what had been my fate. On the surface, the impulse on which I had acted seemed foolish and ill-advised, yet when I think over all calmly now, and especially of the circumstances that led to my meeting with Monsieur de Norreys, and the events which followed, I am sure and confident that the Merciful Power which had so far watched over me had heard my prayers and answered them. At the moment, however, I did not know or think of this; my one idea was to try, if possible, to enlist the Englishman on my side, and if this was not to be, then I knew not what I should do, though the most desperate resolves were rioting in my brain. I was too excited to rest, but a bath, a change of toilet, and a little food, refreshed me and steadied my nerves, and then I sat for a space by the open window of my small room to try and collect myself for my interview with M. de Norreys. The clouds seemed to have passed away, though far behind over the mountains there was a grey bank that showed that the storm was hovering over us, and the wind still blew in fitful, uncertain gusts. Below me Lalande was attending to the horses, and a bow-shot or so beyond the garden of the inn, under some walnut trees I saw what I had not noticed before, and that was a small encampment of lances. This did not tend to reassure me, and if I had any doubts as to whom the troops belonged, they were set at rest by the sight of Norreys, mounted on a powerful black horse, riding slowly towards the inn, evidently with a view of keeping his appointment with me. I had tried to set out in my mind what I would say to him, but each effort seemed to be worse than the other, and at last I determined to simply throw myself on his chivalry, and stand the hazard of the result. At one time I thought that we might perhaps make a dash for it and escape; but even I could see that our wearied horses would not have a chance against fresh ones, and if it came to a struggle we had but one sword to depend upon--a brave one, it is true--but what could one poor man do against ten? No, there was no way but the one way, the idea of which had come so suddenly to me. Now I heard Norreys dismounting at the door of the inn, and after a moment's hesitation, I took my courage in both hands, and stepped down to meet him. He was standing in the little parlour, his back to the light, as I entered, so that I could not see the expression of his face, but he bowed, I thought stiffly, on my coming in, and handed me one of the rough chairs in the room, saying as he did so, "I trust I have not kept you waiting, madame; I was delayed a little longer than I expected with my men, as I have much to arrange for." The last words, measured out in his prim, formal speech, appeared to me to convey a hint to be quick with my business, and as a natural result all but took away from me the power of saying anything. Mustering up courage, however, I took the chair he offered, saying, as I did so, "Will you not be seated, monsieur?"
"Thank you," came the answer in the same set tone, and then he fixed his eyes on me with a grave attention, in which, however, there was mingled, as I thought, much repressed curiosity.
"Monsieur de Norreys," I began desperately, "you cannot but be aware that I fully understand why you are here."
He started slightly, but recovered himself at once, though he said nothing.
"And, monsieur," I went on, "I have come to throw myself on your mercy. Monsieur, you look a gentleman. What object can you gain by carrying out your orders against a poor weak woman, whose only end is to hide herself from the world? I have done no wrong, monsieur, and if you knew my story you would pity me--I ask you as a gentleman--as a man of honour."
"Madame," he interrupted, genuine amaze in his voice, "I do not understand. As far as I am concerned you are as free as air. I know you to be the wife of my friend de Lorgnac, and my only regret is that I am unable to offer you my escort----"
"Say that again, monsieur. Do you mean your business here has nothing to do with me?"
"Absolutely nothing, madame. I am afraid you have alarmed yourself needlessly."
"But M. de Clermont told me; he said you had gone to Périgueux to have me delivered over to my husband."
"Madame, I know of no necessity for doing so, and if I was not certain that you must be mistaken I would say that M. de Clermont deceived you."
"I tell you he did not. He showed me the despatch with the Queen's cipher on it--asked me to read it. Monsieur, listen; he did not lie, and I shall tell you why. It is you who deceive me and are playing with me. Wait, monsieur."
A flicker of a smile passed over his face and shone in his eyes, but he answered simply:
"I am attention; but, madame, think before you tell me things which perhaps I ought not to know."
"Let me be the judge of that, and I will show you, monsieur, that it is useless, even in kindness, to hide your orders from me."
Then I told him briefly of my marriage, and of the circumstances attending it, whilst he leaned back in his chair and listened without a word, and with so little sympathy in his look, that he might have been cut out of a block of wood. The result was that as I spoke I grew somewhat excited, and my tongue was bitter against de Lorgnac, whom, to my sorrow, I upbraided with the infamy of this enterprise; and then I spoke of de Clermont, of his bravery and kindness, forgetting other things that had happened, and how he had warned me of my danger, and especially about Norreys himself, finishing with a rapid "and, monsieur, surely you will let me go. I put myself on your chivalry."
He stopped me with a movement of his hand, and, rising from his seat, faced me. "Madame de Lorgnac, I tell you again that you are utterly mistaken. I have nothing to do with your movements. Yet I am glad you have spoken, for de Lorgnac is my friend, and I now see what the other man is. It is not my habit to meddle with other people's affairs; but, because de Lorgnac is my friend, I will tell you something that will give you pain, but will open your eyes, and you must forgive the plain speech of my country, for we have no mincing turns of the tongue. On the authority of the Marquis de Clermont you have accused me of playing catchpole. This is not a matter that troubles me, my honour is in safe keeping; but you have also accused your husband and my friend, and believe Blaise de Lorgnac to be an assassin, and capable of forcing a marriage on you for the sake of your wealth. For your own sake, for the sake of de Lorgnac, you shall know the truth."
"I listen, monsieur."
"I'll tell you. At a supper party given by thatcroquemitaineof a King of yours, a certain matter was discussed, there was no assassination in it; but the execution of it had to be dropped, as no one of those present who was offered the enterprise would accept it. Later on the wine passed, and a fool, after the fashion of your Court, began to boast openly of his conquests and spoke openly of your favour."
"Monsieur, how dare you!"
"Madame, it is the fashion amongst your fine gentlemen to lie like this. I will do de Clermont the justice to say that it was not he, for he was not there, and the man who spoke is dead, so let his name pass. But Tavannes was there, and had to be reckoned with. The King offered to have you married, and the marshal burst out that he would give you to the first man who asked."
"Oh!"
"Blaise de Lorgnac was on guard at the door. He had heard every word, and now stepped forward and claimed your hand, offering at the same time to undertake the affair for which an agent could not be found. His offer was accepted, and in the early morning, madame, in the yard of la Boucherie, where I had the honour to be your husband's second, your traducer met with his death, and with his last breath confessed that he had lied. That was the very day, madame, that you foolishly rode out with de Clermont. Stay, there is yet a little more, and that concerns the despatch. My business at Périgueux was to give an order to de Termes to receive at St. Priest-Taurion a prisoner of state, who was to be handed over to him by myself and de Clermont. I am here to receive that prisoner, and it is Blaise de Lorgnac who is entrusted with the duty of taking him alive. The duplicate despatch, if there is such a one--and you say you have seen the cover--does not refer to you, and de Clermont has lied. I will settle with him for using my name; but, madame, you are as free as air, and may go where you like, and for Blaise de Lorgnac's sake I will help you all I can--and this is all."
"Oh! I don't know what to think."
"You are free to go, I say; and as de Clermont will be here soon, and not alone, I would advise an immediate departure. I will detach a brace of lances to act as further escort, and let me give the order now. I will be back in a moment."
He did not wait for my reply, but turning on his heel stepped out of the room, and I sat with my brain burning, and my head between my hands. I could not doubt this story, and if ever woman passed through a furnace of shame and anger I did so in those few minutes. I now knew what de Lorgnac was. I now for the first time saw de Clermont in his true colours, with his mask off; and yet--and yet--perhaps Norreys was mistaken about him. I had proved myself to be so utterly wrong, to have jumped to conclusions so rashly, that I dared not sit in judgment any more on a soul, and whilst I floundered on in this way Norreys came back.
"I have arranged everything, madame; the orders have been given to your people. They will be ready to start in a half hour. About midnight you should reach Millevranches, and I should halt there and go on with the morning."
"Monsieur, how can I thank you? I have no words."
"Let the matter rest, Madame de Lorgnac," and then his voice took a gentler tone. "I would not urge your going at once except that we are on de Clermont's own estates, and he has a hundred lances with him at his Château of Ferrand. It is shut out from view by the hills, but it lies yonder," He pointed to the west through the open window, and as he did so an exclamation of surprise burst from him, and he crossed himself.
I followed his glance and saw, high in the heavens, hanging over the mountainous pile of reddening clouds that lay in the west, the grim outline of a vast fortress. The huge walls reflected back with a coppery lustre the red light of the sun, and it was as if we could see figures moving on the ramparts and the flash of arms from the battlements. From the flag-staff on the donjon a broad banner flaunted itself proudly, and so clear and distinct was the light that we made out with ease the blazon on the standard, and the straining leashed ounces of the house of Clermont-Ferrand. And then the clouds took a duskier red, and the solid mass of castle faded away into nothing. I stood still and speechless, and Norreys burst forth, "Sorcery, as I live. Madame, that was the Château de Ferrand."
I had never seen the like before, never again did I see it, nor do I wish to, and it left me so chilled and faint, that Norreys noticed it at once and called for wine. As he did so, I fancied that I heard the beat of a horse's hoof, but paid no attention to it; and then the wine came and I drank, he standing over me. I was just setting down the glass when there was a grating at the entrance, a long shadow fell through the doorway, and de Clermont stepped in with a cheery "Good-day, Monsieur de Norreys. I see you have not been neglecting your time here.Arnidieu!Denise! Is it you? You seem to be forever dropping from the clouds across my path," and he held out his hand; but I took no notice, though I rose from my chair, and Norreys merely bowed frigidly in return to his greeting. De Clermont seemed in nowise disconcerted, but there was an angry flash in his eyes, and for a second he stood tapping the end of his boot with his riding-whip, and looking from one to another of us with a half smile on his lips. Then putting his plumed hat on the table, and drawing off his gloves, he drawled out with a veiled insolence in every tone of his voice, "Upon my word, M. de Norreys, I congratulate you, and if it were not for our business I would leave you in peace, for madame seems to have learned the lesson that 'It is well to be off with the old love before you are on with the new.'"
He had grasped the weakness of the situation at a glance, and took full advantage of it, but though outwardly cool and self-possessed there was death in his eyes. I could bear it no longer, and turned to leave the room. He rose from his seat, saying, "Pray do not leave us, madame--you look pale, though, and perhaps need rest. I trust, however, your indisposition has nothing to do with the sight I observed you watching from the window. Do you know what it means?" and he turned to Norreys.
In spite of myself I stopped for an instant; but Norreys ignored him, and de Clermont went on:
"It means, monsieur, that this apparition is always seen when a man dies by the hand of de Clermont-Ferrand."
Norreys simply bowed, though I thought I heard the word "boaster" muttered between his teeth, and, turning to me, said, "Permit me, madame," and gave me his arm to take me from the room.
Outside, in the narrow passage that led to my chamber, he stopped and held out his hand.
"Let me say adieu, madame. I would accompany you if I could, but it is impossible. I would advise you to leave at once before any of M. le Marquis's men come up. I can see he is ripe for mischief."
"Monsieur de Norreys, I am no fool--I can understand. For mercy's sake avoid a quarrel with de Clermont. He is a deadly swordsman, and if anything happens to you, I shall feel all my life that I was the cause of it. God knows I owe you much, for you have opened my eyes. Promise me, monsieur, promise me!"
"Madame, the use of the sword is not confined to your country nor to de Clermont alone," and then he saw the tears that sprang to my eyes. "Ah! madame, not that; you will unman me! See, there is your equerry. Commend me to de Lorgnac when you meet, and adieu!"
He dropped my hand and turned on his heel, but I could not let him go like that.
"Monsieur, not that way. Promise me what I ask."
"I promise to avoid a quarrel if possible; I can say no more." With that he went, erect and stately. Of what followed I never knew; but, alas! There is one sorrow that ever haunts me; and in the quiet churchyard of St. Yriarte is a tomb which I visit yearly with my husband, and it covers the heart of as brave and gallant a gentleman as ever lived--poor Norreys!
We lost no time in setting forth from The Golden Frog, and as Lalande had apparently been warned by Norreys of the danger of our meeting any of de Clermont's following, we once more left, what by a stretch I might call the direct road, and again took to the hill tracks, where our wearied beasts, whom from my heart I pitied, stumbled slowly and painfully along.
But if the beasts were wearied, how was it with myself and my maid? I was able to keep up, no doubt because of the mental excitement under which I laboured; but I have never understood how my faithful Mousette endured that journey; it was in truth a road of suffering.
I simply went on mechanically, my mind a prey to a thousand conflicting emotions, and to thoughts that chased one another across it like dry and fallen leaves in a forest glade, blown hither and thither by an autumn wind. It had struck me, as there was nothing to be feared from de Termes, that I should order Lalande to turn and guide me back to Madame and Périgueux; but de Clermont barred the way, and it was better after all to push on to Meymac, and there with a cooler head than I now possessed, decide what to do. What had I not passed through within the last few hours? I had made trouble enough for myself by jumping womanlike to conclusions, and imagining that the postscript of de Termes' letter to his wife referred to me, whereas it clearly concerned some one else. That was perhaps a pardonable error considering the circumstances; but there were other things, and even now my face grows hot when I think of them.
My nature is proud! That can never alter, though sorrow and many a bitter lesson has brought me good sense; but it cut like a knife to realize how I had been fooled by de Clermont, and how near I had been to fall a victim to a pitiless libertine. It is a bad and cruel lesson for any woman to learn that she has been the sport of a man, ten times bad and cruel if the woman be proud and high-spirited. And as for de Lorgnac I did not know what to think. My mind concerning him was a chaos. I had misjudged him, wronged him utterly; but it was gall to me to know that he had stood forth as my champion. It was bitterness untold to think that I must humble myself in my heart before him; I could never do so in words to his face, if ever we met, a daughter of Mieux could not do that. It was awful to think that his hands were red with blood for my sake, and I shuddered as I reflected that I had been as it were the immediate cause of a frightful death; de Lorgnac had no business to kill that man whoever he was; he had no right to make me feel almost a murderess; and withal there rose in my heart a kind of fierce pride in the man who could do this for my sake, and a joy I could not make out because he was other than I took him to be--because, in short, he was a gallant gentleman, and not--oh! I need say no more.
When we had travelled for about the space of two hours the horse of one of the two troopers, whom M. Norreys in his kindness had lent to me, fell whilst crossing a water-cut, and on examination it was found to be so hurt that it was impossible for it to continue the journey to Millevranches. It was decided that the two men should be left behind to return to their camp--they had not far to go--and that we should press on as before. I gave the good fellows a brace of crowns apiece, and commending myself to M. de Norreys, we went on, the sheep track--I can call it by no better name--now passing through all the wildest scenery surrounding the Puy de Meymac.
"If luck befriends us, madame, and the storm which has kept off so long does not come, we should reach Millevranches in a little over two hours," said Lalande to me as we rode down a narrow and steep descent.
"Why should the storm come on now? There is no breath of air stirring, and the moon is clear."
The equerry did not reply until reaching the more level ground at the foot of the incline down which we had ridden, and then, pointing behind me, said simply, "Look, madame!"
Turning, I saw that half the arc of the heavens was obscured as it were by a thick curtain, that hung heavily and sullenly over it, and as we looked a chain of fire ran across the blackness, the distant roar of thunder came to us, and then a low, deep moaning vibrated through the air.
"The storm is afoot, I fear, madame. We must press on and cross the Luxège, which though narrow enough to jump over now, may in an hour be impassable, and with the darkness it will be impossible to tell the way."
At this speech Mousette gave a little cry of alarm, and then, her fears overcoming her, began to declare that she could go no further, and begged us to leave her there to die, to be killed by the storm or eaten up by the wolves, it did not matter which, either alternative was preferable to going on. I tried all I could to pacify the poor girl, but she was getting into a state of hysterical excitement, and absolutely refused to move, though every moment was precious, and the dead stillness formerly around us was now awake with the voice of the coming storm. At last I began to despair of moving her, when Lalande said grimly, "Leave her to me, madame. I am an old married man." Then bending forward he seized my bridle and with a cool "Adieu, mademoiselle! I hope you will not disagree with the wolves," to Mousette, began to urge our beasts forward, notwithstanding my protests. But the issue showed he was right, though I confess I was surprised to see the way in which my maid recovered her strength under this rough-and-ready treatment, for in two minutes she was bustling along at our heels. But the lost time never came to our hands again, and as we began to descend the wooded slope towards the Luxège, which we could hear humming angrily below us, the stream burst with a shriek of the winds, and an absolute darkness, that was rendered more intense and horrible by the vivid flashes of lightning, and the continuous roar of thunder. In a trice Lalande had dismounted and taken us from our horses, and the poor animals seemed so overcome by fear or fatigue, or both combined, that they stood perfectly still.
"It is death, madame, attempting to ride now. We must get to the river on foot." Saying this, Lalande managed somehow to get the horses in front of us, and then, holding on to each other and guided by the incessant flashes of lightning, we began a slow and painful progress. I soon began to feel the fatigue and exhaustion so much that I, in my turn, begged Lalande to stop.
"Courage, madame, 'tis but a few yards more to the river bank," he answered, "there we can stop and rest," and I took my heart up and strove onwards once again. At last, when within a few yards of the river, I sank down utterly exhausted and unable to move further, and Mousette alternately sobbed and prayed over me, whilst now and again I could see the tall figure of Lalande standing grim and motionless, and once I fancied I heard a deep oath.
He gave us some cognac from a flask he carried, and then there was nothing for it but to wait and meet death, if it was so to be. Now there came a series of lightning flashes that lit up the terrific scene, and I almost gasped, for right before me on a butting crag I made out a small castle. Lalande saw it too, for he blew long and shrilly on his horn, and then we watched and waited for a time that seemed interminable, when all at once the flare of a huge beacon rose bright and red against the darkness, and an answering bugle reached our ears. Lalande blew again, and to our joy there was a reply. Strength came back to me with the prospect of safety, and rising to my feet I called to Lalande: "On! On!"
He answered, "The river, madame----"
I looked, and saw below me a white lashing flood that swung and swirled past with a savage roar. The lightning showed us the angry water, and the wicked dancing foam, that seemed to leap up in delight at the prospect of the black swirl below it dragging us down to death. Then again we heard the bugle notes, and saw the lights of torches, and heard the shouting of men from the opposite bank.
"Let us go on to meet them--we are saved!" screamed Mousette, and holding on to each other we staggered forward past the horses, who stood all huddled together, only to be stopped here by the utter darkness, and Lalande.
"For the love of heaven, madame, do not move," he cried, "rescue is coming."
And it did come.
All that I can remember was seeing the light of many sputtering torches around us. Some one lifted me in his arms like a child, and I heard a voice say, "Be careful with the horses over the bridge, Pierre," and then my strength gave way.
I had been asleep, asleep for ages it seemed, and all the past was a dream, thank God! This was the thought that struck me as I opened my eyes; but as I looked around, I saw the room in which I lay was strange to me, and inch by inch everything came back--all except the events of the last moments by the river, where my recollection became confused. It was daylight, but still the remains of the storm of last night were in evidence, and I could hear the water dripping from the eaves, and through the half-open dormer window, the murmur of the Luxège, still angry and unappeased, reached my ears.
Where was I? I looked about me, and found that I was in a large room, warm from the effects of a huge wood fire that danced cheerily in the fireplace. Leaning on one elbow, I glanced still further about me, and saw that the furniture was of the same old and heavily antique make that we had at Mieux. The curtains of the bed were, however, worn and faded, the tapestry on the walls was older and more faded still; and then my eyes were arrested by the coat-of-arms carved on the stonework of the fireplace--two wolves' heads, with a motto so chipped and defaced that I could not read it. Whose was the device? I lay back and thought, but could not make it out. Certainly not that of any of the great houses--no doubt my kind preserver belonged to the lesser nobility--but I could soon find out. Then I closed my eyes once more and would have slept, but was aroused by some one entering the room, and, looking up, saw Mousette.
"Ah! madem--madame, I mean," she said eagerly, "thank God, you are looking none the worse for that terrible night. I little thought we would ever live to see daylight again."
"Where are we, Mousette? And who are the kind people who saved us?"
"I do not know, madame," she answered quickly, "but we are the only women here. But," she ran on, "it is mid-day and touching the dinner hour. Will madame rise or be served here?"
"I will rise, of course, Mousette;" and during the course of my toilet I asked if the people of the house knew who we were.
"I have not mentioned anything, madame," replied Mousette, with her face slightly turned away, "and Lalande is discreet."
I felt that Mousette knew more than she cared to tell; but it is not my way to converse with servants; and finishing my dressing in silence, I asked her to show me the way to the salon, and as I spoke I heard a gong go.
"Monsieur will be served at once," said Mousette. "This way, madame," and opening the curtains of the door, she led me down a series of winding steps worn with the feet that had passed up and down there for perhaps a couple of centuries, and then, past a long passage hung with suits of rusty armour and musty trophies of the chase, to a large door. I gathered that Mousette had been making good use of her time whilst in the house, but kept silent. The door was open, and as I passed in Mousette left me. I found I was in a room that was apparently used as a dining-room and salon as well. There was trace of recent occupation, for a man's hat and a pair of leathern gloves somewhat soiled with use were lying on a table, and a great hound rose slowly from the rushes on the floor, and, after eyeing me a moment, came up in a most friendly manner to be patted and made much of. A small table near the fireplace was laid for one, and as I was looking towards it a grey-haired and sober servant brought in the dinner, and then, bowing gravely, announced that I was served.
"Is not monsieur--monsieur--?" I stammered.
"Monsieur le Chevalier has had to go out on urgent business. He has ordered me to present his compliments to madame----"
"I see; monsieur does not dine here."
The man bowed, and I sat down to a solitary meal with the big dog at my feet, and the silent, grave attendant to wait on me. I amused myself with the hound, and with taking note of the room. Like everything else I had seen, its furniture and fittings seemed a century old, and spoke of wealth that had passed away. There was a sadness about this, and a gloom that saddened me in spite of myself, so that it was with an effort I managed to eat, and then, when dinner was over, I told the servant to inform his master that I desired to thank him for the great kindness shown to me.
"I will deliver madame's message," and with this reply he went.
Left to myself, I went to the window and looked out through the glazing. The landscape was obscured by a rolling mist; but the sun was dissipating this bravely. It was a wild and desolate scene, and, despite the sunlight, oppressed me almost as much as my solitary meal, so I turned back into the room, and, seating myself in a great chair, stared into the fireplace, the hound stretching himself beside me. I was still wearied, and my thoughts ran slowly on until I caught myself wondering who my unknown host was, and getting a trifle impatient, too, because he did not come, for I was anxious to set forward to Meymac.
Suddenly I heard a steady measured step in the passage, the hound leaped up with a bay of welcome, and as I rose from my seat the curtain was lifted, and I stood face to face with my husband.
"You! De Lorgnac!" I gasped.
"Even I," he said. "I thought you knew. Are you none the worse for your adventure of last night?"
"I am quite well, thanks to God." "And thanks to you," I was about to add, but my lips could not frame the words, and I felt myself beginning to tremble. Monsieur noticed this.
"I am afraid you underrate your strength; do sit down," he said kindly.
"I prefer to stand, thank you, Monsieur le Chevalier," and then there was a silence, during which I know not what passed through de Lorgnac's mind; but I, I was fighting with myself to prevent my heart getting the better of me, for if so I would have to humble myself--I, a daughter of Mieux! Monsieur broke the silence himself.
"Denise, I give you my word of honour that I would not have intruded on you, but that you asked to see me, and I thought you knew whom you wished to see. Besides, I felt that I owed a little to myself. You have accused me of being a dishonoured gentleman, of being little less than a common bravo, of wedding you to your misery for your estates." He came forward a step and looked me full in the face with his clear strong eyes. "As God is my witness," he went on, "you are utterly mistaken. I am going to-day on an affair the issue of which no one can foresee. Think! Would I go with a lie on my lips? Answer me--tell me. Whatever else you may think, you do not believe this."
I was fumbling with one of his gloves, and could not meet his look.
"You put me in a difficult position, monsieur--this is your own house."
He looked about him with a bitter smile. "Yes--it is my house--hardly the house to which one would bring the heiress of Mieux--but is that your answer to me?"
And still I was silent. I could not bring myself to say what he wanted. And now too it was not only pride that was holding me back. I felt that if I gave him the answer he wished, manlike he would begin to press his love on me, and I was not prepared for this. I did not know my own feelings towards him; but of one thing I was sure--I would not be bound by hollow vows that were forced upon me, and so I fenced.
"This adventure of yours, monsieur--is it so very dangerous?"
"It is not the danger I am thinking of. It is your faith in my honour. No man is blameless, and least of all I. I own I was wrong--that I sinned grievously in marrying you as I have. My excuse is that I love you--that is a thing I cannot control. But I will do all I can to make reparation. I will never see you again, and the times are such that you may soon be as free as air. All that I ask is this one thing."
"But, monsieur, have you no proof--nothing to bring forward?"
"I have nothing to offer but my word."
"Your word--your word--is that all you can say?"
He bowed slightly in reply, but his look was hungry for his answer. Still I could not give it, and played with time.
"You say you love me. Does love resign its object as you do--without a struggle? If I believe one thing I must believe all, monsieur. I cannot believe a profession of love like yours"--how false I knew this to be--"and the rest must follow."
He twisted at his moustache in the old way, and I saw his sunburnt face grow, as it were on a sudden, wan and haggard, and the pity that lies in all women's hearts rose within me.
"Monsieur le Chevalier, if you were to get the answer that you wanted, would you still adhere to your promise and never see me again?"
"I have said so," he said hoarsely.
"Then, monsieur, let me tell you that I have found I was wrong, and that I do believe your word--nay, more, monsieur, I have found de Lorgnac to be a gallant gentleman--whom Denise de Mieux has to thank for her honour and her life----"
"Denise!" There was a glad note in his voice, and in a moment he had stepped up to me, and I had yielded, but that I wanted this king amongst men to be king over himself.
"A moment, monsieur. You have given me your word, be strong enough to keep it. I have learned to respect and honour you; but I do not love you. You must keep your word, de Lorgnac, and go--until I ask you to come back."
"Without a word he turned on his heel and walked towards the door; but I could not let him go like that and I called to him. He stopped and turned towards me, but made no further advance, and then I went up to him with my hand outstretched.
"Monsieur, there is one thing more. I have the honour to be the wife of de Lorgnac, and for the present I crave your permission to make Lorgnac my home. Will you not grant me this request? And will you not shake hands before you go?"
I thought I had tried him too far, and that the man would break down; but no, the metal was true. Yet the haggard look in his face went out as he answered:
"Denise, Lorgnac is yours to its smallest stone, and I thank you for this." Then he bent down and touched my fingers with his lips, and was gone.
"Until I ask you to come back."
These were my own words to de Lorgnac, and they rang in my ears as I listened to his footsteps dying away along the passage. Would I ever call him back? It was on my tongue to do so as he went; but I held myself in, and began restlessly to pace the room, the dog watching my movements with his grave eyes. I could not bear to have them fixed upon me--those eyes that seemed to have a soul imprisoned behind them, and that were so like, in their honest glance, to those of my husband. I bent down and stroked the great shaggy head.
"If I but knew myself! If I but knew myself!" I called out aloud, and then moved aimlessly towards the window. Here I looked out, but saw nothing of the view, for I was looking into my own heart, and there all was mist and fog. The more I tried to think the more hopeless it all seemed, and it came to me to abandon my position, and, accepting my fate, make the best of circumstances as other women had done. I could give respect and trust; and as long as my husband knew this, and I looked after his comforts, he would never know that I did not love him. I had seen enough of the world to know how selfishly blind men are in this respect. But de Lorgnac was not as other men. I felt that his keen eye would take in the part I was playing, that his great love for me would penetrate and grasp all my devices, and that he would feel that he had only a wife--not a lover as well. What was this love that I was in doubt about? If it meant absolute sacrifice of myself, then I could give it to no man. If it meant respect, and honour, and a desire for a constant guiding presence about me, then I felt I could give that to Blaise de Lorgnac; but I felt, too, that more was due to him, and it was well to wait--to wait until my heart told me undeniably that I had found its king.
The neigh of a horse, and the clatter of hoofs on stony ground, aroused me. Bending forward over the window, I looked out and saw de Lorgnac and a half dozen mounted men riding out of the courtyard. My husband rode a little in advance, square and erect, his plumeless helmet glittering in the sunlight; but he never gave one backward glance to the window. Even if he thought I was not there, he might have done so; he might have given me the chance. The men who rode behind him seemed stout, strong fellows, though their casques were battered and their cuirasses rusty; and as the last of them went out I recognised la Coquille. I know I had no right to pick and choose for de Lorgnac, but I would have given my right hand not to have seen that swashbuckler riding behind my husband. Such men as he were never employed on honest deeds! With a stamp of my foot I turned from the window and saw Pierre, the old servant, waiting patiently near the door, with a huge bunch of keys on a salver in his hand. As our eyes met he bowed to the ground.
"I did not know it was Madame de Lorgnac who was here until an hour ago," he said. "Monsieur le Chevalier has directed that these should be given over to you, and the household is outside awaiting madame's orders."
Half amused, half embarrassed, I took the keys. I felt sure de Lorgnac had given no such order, but that this was the spontaneous outcome of old Pierre's politeness. Fastening them in my girdle, I said, with as gracious, yet dignified an air as I could assume, "Call in the people, please."
Pierre bowed once more to the ground and vanished to reappear in two minutes with a well-grown youth, and the two stood bolt upright before me. This was the household of de Lorgnac, then. The smile died away from my lips as I thought of the straits to which a gallant gentleman was reduced. "Pierre," I said, "you must add Mousette, my maid, to the household, and see that the good Lalande is well treated," and I placed a small purse containing a half dozen or so of gold crowns that I happened to have with me in the old man's hands. He held the little silken bag for a moment, and then his face began to flush.
"There is no need, madame; we have enough."
"You forget, Pierre, what I am giving you is Monsieur le Chevalier's, to whom God grant a safe return."
He took the money, though I saw a suspicious swimming of his eyes, and I hastily asked:
"And do those men who rode out with Monsieur belong to the household, too, Pierre?"
"St. Blaise--no, madame! They came here but yesterday morning, and with their leader have drunk and sworn about the place ever since. They filled the lower hall with disorder; but they are stout fellows, and we had hardly been able to help you so well last night but for them; they follow Monsieur le Chevalier for a little time only."
I well knew for what purpose, but kept silent on that point, saying, "And how far is Lorgnac from here?"
"The town you mean, madame?"
"Precisely."
"At the foot of the hill to the right of the château; we cannot see it from here. Ah! it was a fine place until Monsieur de Ganache, and his bandits of Huguenots, came over from La Roche Canillac one fine day and put the place to fire and sword. Monsieur le Chevalier has vowed his death at the shrine of Our Lady of Lorgnac. Ah! he is a devil, is Monsieur de Ganache; he is with the Bearnnois now."
"And is there any news of the Huguenots moving now?"
"None, madame; but Antoine the peddler of Argentat says that a great lady from Paris is at the Château de Canillac, and that Monsieur de Turenne, and many a high lord from the south have been visiting her. They will be tired of dancing and singing soon, those hot bloods, and we may have to look to the castle walls."
"This evening, then, you must take me to Lorgnac," I said with a view to end the conversation.
"It is madame's order, but----" and he stopped short for a second, and then continued, "Antoine, the peddler's daughter, who married Gribot, the woodman of Lorgnac, has a cow and calf for sale, and there is none in the château."
"Then buy it of her, Pierre," and with another low bow the old man withdrew with the "household," who had evidently been trained in a severe school by Pierre, for he had stood bolt upright like a soldier at attention, and never moved muscle during the whole of the interview.
So my business as mistress of Lorgnac had begun; but there were one or two things that required immediate attention from me before I began my household duties. I called Mousette, and going over the money we had, found that it reached to about a hundred crowns. This was enough for all present requirements, though I would want much more soon, if all the designs that were flitting through my brain, in shadow as it were, were carried out; but that could be easily arranged hereafter. Then I saw Lalande, and informing him that my journey was over, asked if there would be any difficulty in his remaining at Lorgnac for at least a few days, as I wanted his help. He answered that he was at my service, and this being settled, I set about exploring the quaint old mansion, and as I did so all kinds of dreams of changing its cheerless aspect possessed me, and the time passed on wings.
In the afternoon we visited the town. Alas! It had been for a century but a hamlet, and all traces of town, if ever there was any, had long gone. But small and poor and obscure as Lorgnac was, the hand of war had not spared it, and blackened rafter and fallen roof still bore witness to Monsieur de Ganache's pitiless visit. Privation and want had left their marks on the faces of the score or so of inhabitants of the village; but when they found out who I was, they came forward eagerly, and a small child, no doubt prompted by her elders, gave me a bouquet of wild flowers, and I went back, vowing in my heart that ere many weeks were over all this would be changed.
That night as I sat before the huge log fire in the hall with Moro the hound--I found out his name from Pierre--for the first time for many days my mind was at rest, and I began to feel also, for the first time, the glow that comes to the heart when one is able to help one's fellow creatures. I knew I was young and inexperienced, that my life, especially within the last year in the poisonous air of the Court, had been made up of frivolities and follies that had brought their own sharp punishment with them, yet I had always in my mind the desire for a nobler life, where my wealth could be used to help the distressed, and as far as it could go to add to the happiness of others. So far so good; but there was my own happiness and that of de Lorgnac to think of. There was a great pity in my heart for him; but was it right to mistake pity for love, and give myself wholly to a man to make him happy, to my own sorrow? For the life of me I could not see this. I felt that a man who would accept such a sacrifice would be unworthy of it. But Blaise de Lorgnac was not of those who would do this. He was true metal. Was there another man who would have acted as he did--whose love was so generous and yet so strong? I doubt it. I well knew the profession of a man's love, that swore it was ready to die for its object; but was unable to abandon or to forego anything in its selfishness. But the love that was, as it were, in the hollow of my hand was not as this; and then I began to see the hidden secret of my own heart, and called out aloud, "Come back, de Lorgnac. Come back!" But the echo of the vaulted roof was my only answer. Yet that night I slept a happy woman, for I knew what it was now to love.
The days passed, and notwithstanding that I threw myself heart and soul into my plans about Lorgnac, there was an ever-eating care in my heart, for no tidings came of my husband, and it was not pride now, but a shyness that I could not overcome, do what I would, that absolutely prevented me from making any inquiry, though no doubt inquiry would have been fruitless and vain. Listless and tired, I sat one day towards the afternoon at the window by the hall, my favourite seat, and looked down the winding road, that clung to the side of the steep rocks, hoping against hope that I should see the great white horse, when suddenly I spied a horseman riding towards the castle with a loose rein, and at times he swayed from side to side like a drunken man. In a moment I felt the worst tidings, and knew that the rider was bringing me sorrow. With an effort I roused myself, and with shaking limbs went down to the courtyard, and there, calling Lalande and Pierre, waited for his coming, who was bringing me the evil message I felt I already knew. We had not long to wait. With a thunder of hoofs, the horseman passed the lower drawbridge, and reining in sharply, slid rather than dismounted from his saddle. It was la Coquille, covered with blood and dust, and the red gone out of his cheeks.
"Madame--Madame de Lorgnac!" he called out in a cracked voice.
"I am here, monsieur."
"I can stay but a moment. Fly! Fly! The bloodhounds are even now on my track, and they will be here in an hour."
"Is that all?" How my heart beat, though my voice was cool!
"All? No. But give me to drink, and I will speak. My throat is parched and I have lost much blood."
Pierre handed him a flagon of wine, which he drained at a draught, and then went on.
"It will not take long to tell.Mordieu!It was the best plan ever laid, and to think it was spoiled by a traitor. Madame, if we had succeeded, France would have been at peace, and your husband a marshal and peer. We watched the Bearnnois for days, and then laid out to seize him, on the day of a hunting party. We got all details of movements from that double-dyed traitor, de Clermont; but he played the right hand for Navarre, and the left for us. We laid out as I said, and the King came: but not alone--our ambuscade was surprised, and five as good fellows as ever drew sword now swing to the branches of the beech trees of Canillac. I got off somehow, but alas! they have taken de Lorgnac, though not easily, for Monsieur de Ganache fell to his sword, and I think another too."
"Taken de Lorgnac!"
"Yes, madame--Mordieu!It is the fortune of war! They are coming straight here, for what purpose I know not; but,mille diables!I have wasted enough time already, and the skin of la Coquille is the skin of la Coquille. There is not a moment to spare. Fly if you value your lives!" And with this he put his foot in his stirrup, and made as if he would mount his panting horse again.
"Save your skin, Monsieur la Coquille," I said. "As for me and mine, we stay here. Would to God my husband had true swords at his back!"
He stopped and put down his foot.
"You can say what you please, madame, but we did our best; but as God is my witness the Huguenots mean death, and I advise you to go. In a half-hour it will be too late."
"Monsieur, I have asked you to save the skin of la Coquille."
His broad face became dark and red with the blood that rushed to it. "I know I deserve nothing at your hands, madame," he said. "You think me a cur, and one I am.Mordieu!For a bribe of twenty crowns--so fallen am I--I once played the craven for de Clermont before you. It was at Ambazac not so many days ago. Did I know you were de Lorgnac's wife, I had cut off my sword arm rather than do what I did then. Let me make some recompense. I implore you to go. Fools," and he turned to Lalande and Pierre, "do you wish to swing from the rafters here? Take her away, by force if necessary."
"Enough, monsieur. You have said too much! I am sorry for you. I would help you if I could, but my place is here. Save yourself whilst there is yet time. As for me, I and mine will defend Lorgnac to the last stone."
He flung the reins he held in his hand from him, and over the sin-marked features of the man there came somehow an expression of nobleness.
"Then, by God, madame, I stay! And I thank you for teaching me how to die. Twenty-five years--twenty-five years ago I was a gentleman, and to-day I bridge over the past. I will stay, madame, and the sword of la Coquille will help to hold the castle for you. Hasten, men. Up with the drawbridge.Ah! sacre nom d'un chien!We are too late!"