"To succeed in saving the unfortunate Canolles."
Nanon gazed at him with terrifying intensity.
"He is lost, is he not?"
"Alas!" was the reply; "if you ask me for my honest, outspoken opinion, I admit that the prospect is dark."
"How indifferently he says it!" cried Nanon. "Do you know, wretch, what that man is to me?"
"I know that he is a man whom you prefer to your brother, since you would have saved him rather than me, and when you saw me you welcomed me with a curse."
Nanon made an impatient gesture.
"Pardieu!you are right," said Cauvignac; "I do not say that by way of reproach, but as a simple observation; for look you, with my hand upon my heart—I do not say upon my conscience, for fear I have none—I declare that if we were together once more in the cell in Château-Trompette, knowing what I know, I would say to Monsieur de Canolles, 'Monsieur, Nanon calls you her brother; it is you they seek, not I,'—and he would come to you in my place, and I would die in his."
"Then he is to die!" cried Nanon in a burst of grief, which proves that in the best organized minds death never presents itself as a certainty, but always as a fear simply; "then he is to die!"
"Sister," Cauvignac replied, "this is all that I can tell you, and upon it we must base all that we do. In the two hours since I left Bordeaux many things may have happened; but do not despair, for it is equally true that absolutely nothing at all may have happened. Here is an idea that has come into my head."
"Tell it me, quickly."
"I have a hundred men and my lieutenant within a league of Bordeaux."
"A sure man?"
"Ferguzon."
"Well?"
"Well, sister, whatever Monsieur de Bouillon may say, whatever Monsieur de La Rochefoucauld may do, whatever Madame la Princesse may think, who deems herself a far greater captain than her two generals, I have an idea that, with my hundred men, half of whom I will sacrifice, I can make my way to Monsieur de Canolles."
"Oh! you deceive yourself, brother; you will never get to him; you will never get to him!"
"But I will,morbleu!or I will die in the attempt!"
"Alas! your death would prove your good-will, but it would not save him. He is lost! he is lost!"
"But I tell you no, even if I have to give myself up in his place," cried Cauvignac, in a burst of quasi-generosity that surprised himself.
"Give yourself up!"
"Yes, to be sure; for no one has any reason to hate Monsieur de Canolles; on the other hand, every one loves him, while I am universally detested."
"Why should you be detested?"
"For the simplest of reasons; because I have the honor to be bound to you by the closest ties of blood. Forgive me, my dear sister, but what I say is extremely flattering to a good royalist."
"Wait a moment," said Nanon, putting her finger on her lips.
"I am listening."
"You say that I am bitterly detested by the people of Bordeaux?"
"Why, they fairly execrate you."
"Is it so?" said Nanon, with a smile, half-pensive, half-joyous.
"I did not think I was telling you something that would be so agreeable to you to hear."
"Yes, yes," said Nanon, "it is very sensible at all events, if not exactly agreeable. Yes, you are right," she continued, speaking rather to herself than to her brother; "they do not hate Monsieur de Canolles, nor do they hate you. Wait, wait!"
She rose, threw a long silk cloak about her lithe and graceful form, and, sitting at her table, hastily wrote a few lines, which Cauvignac, as he watched the flush that mounted to her brow, and the heaving of her bosom, judged to be of great moment.
"Take this," said she, sealing the letter, "and ride alone to Bordeaux, without soldiers or escort. There is a mare in the stable that can do the distance in an hour. Bide as fast as she will carry you, deliver this letter to Madame la Princesse, and Monsieur de Canolles is saved!"
Cauvignac looked at his sister in open-mouthed amazement; but he knew how clear-sighted she was, and wasted no time criticising her instructions. He hurried to the stable, leaped upon the horse she had described, and half an hour thereafter was more than half-way to Bordeaux.
Nanon, as soon as she saw him from her window galloping away, knelt, atheist as she was, and repeated a short prayer; after which she bestowed her money and jewels in a casket, ordered a carriage, and bade Francinette array her in her most splendid garments.
II.
Save the neighborhood of the Esplanade, whither everybody was hurrying, the city of Bordeaux seemed deserted. In the streets which lay at a distance from that favored-quarter there was no sound save the tread of the patrol, or the terrified voice of some old woman as she closed and locked her door.
But in the direction of the Esplanade there was a dull, continuous murmur as of waves beating upon a distant shore.
Madame la Princesse had finished her correspondence, and had sent word to Monsieur le Duc de La Rochefoucauld that she would receive him.
At the princess's feet, crouching upon a rug, and studying with the keenest anxiety her face and her humor, was Claire, evidently awaiting a moment when she might speak without annoying her; but her enforced patience, her studied calmness were belied by the nervous movements of the fingers with which she was folding and crumpling a handkerchief.
"Seventy-seven signatures!" cried the princess; "it's not all pleasure you see, Claire, to play at being queen."
"Indeed it is, madame; for in taking the queen's place you assumed her most gracious prerogative, that of being merciful."
"And that of punishing, Claire," rejoined the princess proudly, "for one of the seventy-seven signatures was written at the foot of a death-warrant."
"And the seventy-eighth will be at the foot of a pardon, will it not, madame?" pleaded Claire.
"What do you say, little one?"
"I say, madame, that I think it is quite time for me to go and set my prisoner free; may I not spare him the frightful spectacle of his companion led forth to his death? Ah! madame, as you consent to pardon him, pray, let it be a full and complete pardon!"
"I' faith, yes! you are quite right, little one; but, in very truth I had forgotten my promise amid all this serious business, and you have done well to remind me of it."
"Then—" cried Claire, beaming with joy.
"Do what you choose."
"One more signature, then, madame," said Claire, with a smile which would have melted the hardest heart, a smile which no painter's brush could reproduce, because it belongs only to the woman who loves, that is to say, to life in its divinest essence.
She placed a paper upon Madame la Princesse's table, and held it while she wrote:—
"The governor of Château-Trompette is ordered to allow Madame la Vicomtesse de Cambes access to Monsieur le Baron de Canolles, to whom we restore his liberty without reservation or condition."
"The governor of Château-Trompette is ordered to allow Madame la Vicomtesse de Cambes access to Monsieur le Baron de Canolles, to whom we restore his liberty without reservation or condition."
"Is that right?" the princess asked.
"Oh! yes, madame!"
"And I must sign it?"
"Most assuredly."
"Ah! little one," said Madame de Condé, with her most gracious smile, "I seem compelled to do whatever you want."
And she wrote her name.
Claire pounced upon the paper like an eagle upon its prey. She hardly took time to thank her Highness, and rushed from the room pressing the paper against her heart.
On the stairway she met Monsieur de La Rochefoucauld, who was always followed wherever he went by a number of officers and admiring citizens.
Claire greeted him with a happy little smile. Monsieur de La Rochefoucauld, surprised beyond measure, stopped for an instant upon the landing, and followed her with his eyes to the bottom of the stairs before entering Madame de Condé's apartment.
"All is ready, madame," he said, when he was in her Highness's presence.
"Where?"
"Over yonder."
The princess seemed to be trying to make out his meaning.
"On the Esplanade," said the duke.
"Ah yes! very good," rejoined the princess, affecting great calmness of manner, for she felt that he was looking at her, and so, notwithstanding her woman's nature which inclined her to shudder, she listened to the voice of her dignity as leader of a great party, which bade her show no sign of weakness. "If everything is ready, let the affair proceed."
The duke hesitated.
"Do you think it advisable that I should be present?" inquired the princess, with a tremor in her voice which she could not entirely repress, notwithstanding her self-control.
"Why, that is as you please, madame," replied the duke, who was at that moment engaged in one of his physiological studies.
"We will see, duke, we will see; you know that I have pardoned one of the condemned men."
"Yes, madame."
"And what do you say to that step?"
"I say that whatever your Highness does is well done."
"Yes, I thought it better so. It will be more befitting our dignity to show the Épernonists that while we do not fear to resort to reprisals, and to treat with her Majesty as one power with another, we have confidence in the strength of our cause, and return evil for evil without excitement or exaggeration."
"It is very politic."
"Is it not, duke?" rejoined the princess, seeking to gather La Rochefoucauld's real meaning from his tone and manner.
"But," he continued, "it is still your opinion, is it not, that one of the two should expiate Richon's death? For if it remains unavenged, the impression may gain ground that your Highness sets but little store by the gallant men who devote their lives to your service."
"Oh! assuredly! and one of the two shall die, on my honor as a princess! never fear."
"May I know which of the two your Highness has deigned to pardon?"
"Monsieur de Canolles."
"Ah!"
Thisah!was pronounced in a most significant tone.
"Can it be that you have any particular ground for wishing that gentleman ill, Monsieur le Duc?"
"I! Madame, was I ever known to wish anybody well or ill? I divide all men into two categories: obstacles, and supporters. The former must be overthrown, and the latter supported,—so long as they support us; that is my policy, madame, and I might almost say my whole moral code."
"What infernal scheme is he concocting, and what is he driving at?" muttered Lenet; "he acted as if he detested poor Canolles."
"Well," the duke continued, "if your Highness has no other orders to give me—"
"No, Monsieur le Duc."
"I will take leave of your Highness."
"Is it to be tonight?"
"In quarter of an hour."
Lenet made ready to follow the duke.
"Are you going to see the spectacle, Lenet?" the princess asked him.
"Oh! no, madame; I am not addicted to violent emotion, as you know; I will content myself with going half way, that is to say, as far as the prison, to witness the touching picture of poor Canolles restored to freedom by the woman he loves."
The duke made a wry face. Lenet shrugged his shoulders, and the solemn procession left the palace to go to the prison.
Madame de Cambes had traversed the distance in less than five minutes; she showed the order to the sentinel at the drawbridge, then to the doorkeeper at the prison, and asked to see the governor.
The governor scrutinized the order with the inexpressive eye characteristic of prison-governors, which never lights up at sight of a death-warrant or pardon, recognized the signature and seal of Madame de Condé, saluted the messenger, and said, turning to the door:
"Call the lieutenant."
Then he motioned to Madame de Cambes to be seated; but her excitement and impatience were too intense to allow her to be at rest, and she remained on her feet.
The governor thought it incumbent upon him to speak to her.
"You know Monsieur de Canolles?" he said in the same tone in which he would have asked what the weather was.
"Oh! yes, monsieur," was the reply.
"He is your brother, mayhap, madame?"
"No, monsieur."
"A friend?"
"He is—myfiancé," said Madame de Cambes, hoping that this confession would induce the governor to hasten the discharge of the prisoner.
"Ah!" he rejoined in the same tone, "I congratulate you, madame."
Having no further questions to ask, he relapsed into immobility and silence.
The lieutenant entered.
"Monsieur d'Orgemont," said the governor, "call the chief turnkey, and see that Monsieur de Canolles is set at liberty; here is the order for his discharge."
The lieutenant bowed and took the paper.
"Do you wish to wait here?" the governor asked.
"Am I not permitted to accompany monsieur?"
"Yes, madame."
"Then I will do so; you understand,—I wish to be the first to tell him that his life is saved."
"Go then, madame, and receive the assurance of my respect."
Madame de Cambes made a hasty courtesy to the governor and followed the lieutenant. He was the same officer who had talked with Canolles and with Cauvignac, and he went about the duty assigned him with the zeal born of sympathy. In a moment he and Madame de Cambes were in the court-yard.
"The chief turnkey!" cried the lieutenant. "He will be here in an instant, madame; have no fear," he added.
The second turnkey appeared.
"Monsieur le lieutenant," said he, "the turnkey in chief cannot be found; we have sought in vain for him."
"Oh, monsieur," cried Claire; "does this mean further delay?"
"No, madame, the order is explicit; be calm."
Madame de Cambes thanked him with one of those glances which none but women and angels have to give.
"You have duplicate keys to all the cells?" asked Monsieur d'Orgemont.
"Yes, monsieur."
"Open Monsieur de Canolles' door."
"Monsieur de Canolles in number two?"
"Yes, number two; open at once."
"By the way, I believe they are both together in there," said the turnkey; "you can choose the best-looking."
Jailers in all ages have been facetious. But Madame de Cambes was too happy to take offence at the heartless pleasantry. On the contrary she smiled at it, and would have embraced the man if need be to induce him to hasten so that she might be with Canolles a second earlier.
At last the door was opened. Canolles who had heard steps in the corridor, and recognized the viscountess's voice, threw himself into her arms, and she, forgetting that he was neither her husband or her lover, strained him to her heart with all her strength. The peril that had threatened him, the eternal separation to which they had come so close, purified everything.
"Well, my dear," said she, radiant with joy and pride, "you see that I have kept my word: I have obtained your pardon as I promised; I have come to fetch you, and we are going away."
Even as she spoke she was dragging him toward the corridor.
"Monsieur," said the lieutenant, "you may well devote your whole life to madame, for you certainly owe it to her."
Canolles made no reply; but his eyes gazed fondly at the saving angel, and his hand pressed the hand of the loving woman.
"Oh! do not hasten so," said the lieutenant, with a smile; "it is all over, and you are free, so take time to open your wings."
But Madame de Cambes, paying no heed to these words of good cheer, continued to drag Canolles through the corridors. Canolles let her have her will, exchanging friendly signs with the lieutenant. They reached the staircase, and descended the stairs as if they were provided with the wings of which the lieutenant had spoken. At last they stood in the court-yard; one more door, and the atmosphere of the prison would cease to oppress their long-suffering hearts.
That last door was finally thrown open. But on the other side, the drawbridge was thronged with a troop of gentlemen, archers and guards; they were Monsieur de La Rochefoucauld and his acolytes.
Without knowing why, Madame de Cambes shuddered. Some evil thing had befallen her every time that that man had come in her path.
As to Canolles, if he experienced any emotion whatever, no trace of it appeared upon his features.
The duke saluted Madame de Cambes and Canolles, and even paused to offer his congratulations. Then he made a sign to his followers, and they made way for the lovers to pass.
Suddenly a voice was heard at the far end of the court-yard, inside the prison:—
"Number one is empty; the other prisoner is not in his cell; I have searched everywhere and cannot find him!"
These words sent a thrill of excitement through all who heard them; the Duc de La Rochefoucauld started, and unable to restrain his first impulse, put out his hand as if to stop Canolles.
Claire saw the movement and every vestige of color fled from her cheeks.
"Come, come," said she, "let us make haste!"
"Pardon me, madame," said the duke, "but I must ask you to be patient for a moment. Give us time, if you please, to clear up this mistake; it will be a matter of a moment only, I promise you."
He made another sign to his followers and the passage was closed.
Canolles looked at Claire, at the duke, at the point whence the voice came, and he too turned pale.
"But why should I wait, monsieur?" demanded Claire. "Madame la Princesse de Condé signed the order for Monsieur de Canolles to be set free; here is the order, and his name is specifically mentioned; look, I beg you."
"Certainly, madame, it is as you say, and I do not assume to deny the validity of the order; it will be as effectual a moment hence as now; be patient therefore; I have sent a person to investigate who will very soon return."
"But how does that concern us?" Claire persisted. "What connection is there between Monsieur de Canolles and the prisoner in number one?"
"Monsieur le Duc," said the captain of the guards, whom the duke had sent to make inquiries, "we have searched for the other prisoner to no purpose; he cannot be found, and the chief turnkey has also disappeared; his child, whom we questioned, says that his father and the prisoner went out together by the secret door that opens on the river."
"Oho!" ejaculated the duke, "do you know anything of this, Monsieur de Canolles? An escape!"
At these words the whole truth flashed upon Canolles in an instant. He understood that it was Nanon who was watching over him; that it was he whom the jailer had come to seek; that it was he for whom the designation of Madame de Lartigues' brother was intended; that Cauvignac had unwittingly taken his place, and found freedom where he thought to find death. All these thoughts rushed into his mind at the same moment; he put his hands to his head and staggered, and only recovered himself when he saw that the viscountess was trembling and gasping for breath at his side.
Not one of these involuntary tokens of alarm escaped the duke.
"Close the doors!" he shouted. "Monsieur de Canolles, be kind enough to remain; this affair must be investigated, as you will understand."
"But, Monsieur le Duc," cried poor Claire, "you do not presume, I trust, to act in opposition to an order of Madame la Princesse!"
"No, madame," said the duke, "but I conceive it to be most important that she should be informed of what has taken place. I will not say to you, 'I will go to her myself;' you might believe it to be my purpose to influence our august mistress; but I will say, 'Do you go, madame;' for you know better than any one how to solicit Madame de Condé's clemency."
Lenet made an almost imperceptible sign to Claire.
"Oh! I will not leave him!" she cried, convulsively pressing the young man's arm.
"I will go to her Highness," said Lenet; "do you come with me, captain; or come yourself, Monsieur le Duc."
"So be it, I will go with you. Monsieur le capitaine will remain here and continue the search in our absence; perhaps the other prisoner may be found."
As if to enforce the latter portion of his sentence, La Rochefoucauld said a few words in the officer's ear, then took his departure with Lenet.
At the same time the viscountess and Canolles were forced back into the court-yard by the crowd of horsemen in attendance upon Monsieur de La Rochefoucauld, and the door clanged behind them.
During the last ten minutes the scene had taken on a character of such gravity and solemnity that all those who witnessed it stood by, pale-faced and silent, exchanging glances of deep meaning, and gazing at Canolles and Claire as if to read in their eyes which of the two was suffering the more. Canolles realized that it was for him to find courage for both; his demeanor was grave but most affectionate to his weeping companion, who clung to him, red-eyed and hardly able to stand, drew him closer to her side, smiled upon him with an expression of heart-breaking affection, and shuddered as she looked about upon that throng of men, seeking in vain one friendly face.
The captain, who had received his instructions from the duke, spoke in a low tone to his officers. Canolles, whose glance was keen, and whose ear was quick to hear the slightest hint that tended to change his suspicion to certainty, heard him, despite the care he took to speak as low as possible, utter these words:—
"We must devise some means of sending away that poor woman."
He tried thereupon to release his arm from the caressing grasp that detained it. Claire divined his purpose and clung to him with all her strength.
"You must continue your search," she cried; "perhaps they have not searched thoroughly, and the man will yet be found. Let us all search; it is not possible that he has escaped. Why should not Monsieur de Canolles have escaped with him? Come, Monsieur le Capitaine, order them to continue the search, I entreat you."
"They have searched, madame, and are searching at this moment. The jailer is well aware that his head will pay the penalty if he doesn't produce his prisoner; so that his interest alone would lead him to make a most thorough search."
"Mon Dieu!" murmured Claire, "and Monsieur Lenet does not return!"
"Patience, dear heart, patience," said Canolles, in the soothing tone in which one speaks to children; "Monsieur Lenet has but just gone; he has barely had time to reach Madame la Princesse; give him time to explain matters to her and then to return with her reply." He gently pressed her hand as he spoke; then, noticing that the captain of the guards was gazing at him intently and with evident impatience, he said to him:—
"Do you wish to speak with me, captain?"
"Yes, monsieur," he replied, for the unremitting scrutiny of the viscountess kept him on the rack.
"Monsieur," she cried, "take us to Madame la Princesse, I implore you. What difference can it make to you? As well take us to her as leave us here in suspense; she will see him, monsieur, she will see me, I will speak to her, and she will renew her promise."
"That is an excellent idea of yours, madame," said the officer, seizing hastily upon the suggestion; "go to her yourself, go! you have every chance of success."
"What do you say to it, baron?" the viscountess asked. "Do you think it would be well? You would not deceive me; what ought I to do?"
"Go, madame," said Canolles, with a mighty effort.
The viscountess dropped his arm, walked away a few steps, then ran back to him.
"Oh! no! no!" said she, "I will not leave him."
At that moment the outer door opened.
"Ah! God be praised!" she cried; "here are Monsieur Lenet and Monsieur le Duc!"
Behind Monsieur de La Rochefoucauld with his sphinx-like face, came Lenet with sorrowful countenance and trembling hands. At the first glance he exchanged with the counsellor, Canolles saw that there was no hope for him, that his doom was sealed.
"What have you to tell?" demanded Claire, rushing impetuously to meet Lenet, and dragging Canolles with her.
"Madame la Princesse is much embarrassed—" stammered Lenet.
"Embarrassed!" cried Claire, "what does that mean?"
"It means that she asks for you," interposed the duke, "that she wishes to speak with you."
"Is that true, Monsieur Lenet," demanded Claire, without pausing to reflect that the question was an insult to the duke.
"Yes, madame," faltered Lenet.
"But what of him?" she asked.
"Of whom?"
"Monsieur de Canolles."
"Oh! Monsieur de Canolles will return to his cell, and you will bring back the princess's reply to him."
"Will you remain with him, Monsieur Lenet?"
"Madame—"
"Will you remain with him?" she repeated.
"I will not leave him."
"You will not leave him, you swear that you will not?"
"My God!" muttered Lenet, gazing from the man who awaited his sentence to the woman whose death one word from his mouth might cause. "My God! since one of the two is doomed, give me strength to save the other."
"You will not swear, Monsieur Lenet!"
"I swear," replied the counsellor, putting his hand to his heart.
"Thanks, monsieur," said Canolles beneath his breath, "I understand you.—Go, madame," he added, turning to the viscountess; "you see that between Monsieur Lenet and Monsieur le Duc I am in no danger."
"Do not let her go without embracing her," said Lenet.
Canolles' brow was bedewed with icy sweat; a sort of mist came before his eyes; he detained Claire, as she was about to leave him, and pretending that he had something to whisper to her, drew her to his heart, and said in her ear:—
"Entreat without servility; I wish to live for you, but you should wish me to live honored."
"I will entreat in such fashion as to save you," she replied; "are you not my husband in God's sight?"
Canolles, as he released her, found a way to touch her neck with his lips, but so cautiously that she did not feel it, and the poor creature, mad with apprehension, left him without returning his last kiss. As she was about to leave the court-yard she turned, but there was a line of guards between her and the prisoner.
"Where are you, my friend? I cannot see you; one word, one word I pray, so that I may go with your voice in my ears."
"Go, Claire," said Canolles. "I await your return."
"Go, go, madame," said a kind-hearted officer; "the sooner you go, the sooner you will return."
"Monsieur Lenet, dear Monsieur Lenet," cried Claire's voice in the distance, "I rely upon you; you will answer to me for him."
And the door closed behind her.
"Good!" muttered the philosophical duke; "that was not over pleasant; but at last we are in the realm of the possible once more."
As soon as the viscountess had disappeared, and her voice had died away in the distance, the gate having been closed behind her, the circle of officers drew closer around Canolles, and two men of sinister mien, suddenly appearing as if they had sprung from the ground, approached the duke and humbly awaited his commands.
The duke simply pointed to the prisoner. He himself drew near to him, and said, with his customary glacial courtesy:—
"Monsieur, you doubtless understand that the departure of your companion in misfortune renders you liable to the penalty which was to be inflicted upon him."
"Yes, monsieur," replied Canolles, "I suspected as much; but there is one thing of which I am perfectly certain, that Madame la Princesse granted a pardon to me by name. I saw, and you yourself might have seen just now, the order for my release in the hands of Madame la Vicomtesse de Cambes."
"It is true, monsieur," said the duke, "but Madame la Princesse could not have anticipated the present state of affairs."
"I am to understand, then, that Madame la Princesse recalls her signature?"
"Yes," replied the duke.
"A princess of the blood is false to her word?"
The duke maintained his impassive demeanor.
Canolles looked about him.
"Has the time arrived?" he asked.
"Yes, monsieur."
"I thought that you would await the return of Madame la Vicomtesse de Cambes; you promised her that nothing should be done in her absence. It seems that nobody has any regard for his word to-day."
And the prisoner gazed reproachfully, not at the Duc de La Rochefoucauld, but at Lenet.
"Alas! monsieur," cried the latter, with tears in his eyes, "forgive us. Madame la Princesse positively refused to show mercy to you. I begged very earnestly none the less; Monsieur le Duc will bear witness to that, and God as well. But she deems it imperative that Richon's death should be paid for in kind, and she was as immovable as stone. Now do you yourself pass judgment on my conduct, Monsieur le Baron; instead of allowing the burden of your horrible situation to fall partly upon the viscountess, I ventured,—pray forgive me, for I feel that I stand in great need of your forgiveness,—I ventured to cause it to fall upon you alone, for you are a soldier and of gentle birth."
"In that case," faltered Canolles, whose voice was choked with emotion, "in that case I shall not see her again! When you bade me embrace her, it was for the last time!"
A sob stronger than stoicism or pride shook Lenet's frame. He stepped back and wept bitterly. Canolles thereupon fixed his piercing gaze upon the men who stood about him, but could see on every side none but faces rendered stern and pitiless by Richon's cruel death, and among them a very few timid creatures, who were stiffening their muscles to conceal their emotion and help them to swallow their tears and sighs.
"Oh! it is terrible to think upon," murmured the youth, in a moment of superhuman clearness of vision which opens before the soul a boundless field of view over what men call life,—that is to say, a few brief instants of happiness scattered here and there like islands in the midst of an ocean of tears and suffering,—"terrible to think upon! I had in my arms the woman I adore, who had just told me for the first time that she loved me; I had before me a long and blissful life, the realization of my fondest dream; and lo! in a moment, in a second, death takes the place of it all!"
He felt a tightness at his heart, and a pricking sensation in his eyes as if he were going to weep; but he remembered in time that he was, as Lenet said, a soldier and a gentleman.
"O pride," he said to himself, "the only form of courage that has any real existence, come to my aid! Should I bewail the loss of so vain and futile a thing as life? How they would laugh if they could say: 'On learning that he was to die, Canolles wept!' How did I bear myself on the day I was besieged at Saint-Georges, when the Bordelais showed the same eagerness for my death as to-day? I fought, I jested, I laughed. Very good! by the heaven above, which hears my words and is mayhap dealing wrongfully with me; by the devil who is struggling at this moment with my good angel, I will bear myself to-day as I bore myself on that day, and if I no longer fight, I will at least continue to jest, and will laugh on to the end."
At once his face became calm, as if all emotion had vanished from his heart; he passed his hand through his beautiful black hair, and walked up to Monsieur de La Rochefoucauld and Lenet with a smile upon his lips.
"Messieurs," said he, "as you know, one requires time to become accustomed to everything in this world, which is so filled with strange and unexpected events; I have taken, and I did wrong not to ask your leave to take, a moment to accustom myself to the thought of death; if it was too long a time, I ask your pardon for compelling you to wait."
Profound astonishment was depicted on the faces of all the bystanders, and the prisoner was aware that that feeling soon gave place to admiration; his strength was increased tenfold by his consciousness of that sentiment, so honorable to him.
"Whenever you are ready, messieurs," said he; "I am waiting for you now."
The duke, dumbfounded for an instant, at once resumed his usual phlegmatic demeanor, and gave the signal. Thereupon the gates were opened and the procession made ready to set out.
"One moment," cried Lenet, to gain time; "one moment, Monsieur le Duc! We are escorting Monsieur de Canolles to his death, are we not?"
The duke made a gesture of surprise, and Canolles looked wonderingly at Lenet.
"Why, yes," said the duke.
"Very good!" rejoined Lenet, "in that case the gallant gentleman cannot do without a confessor."
"Pardon me, pardon me, monsieur," interposed Canolles; "I can do without one perfectly well."
"How so?" Lenet asked, making signs to the prisoner which he would not understand.
"Because I am a Huguenot," replied Canolles, "and a zealous Huguenot, too, I promise you. If you wish to confer one last favor upon me, I pray you let me die as I am."
Even as he repelled the suggestion, the young man made a gesture of gratitude, which proved that he perfectly understood Lenet's purpose.
"If there is no further cause for delay, let us be off," said the duke.
"Make him confess! make him confess!" cried a few of the more vindictive bystanders.
Canolles drew himself up to his full height, looked about him on all sides with a calm and confident glance, and said sternly to the duke:—
"Are we going to act like cowards, monsieur? Me-thinks that if any person has the right to follow out his desires, I, who am the hero of the fête, have that right, I refuse to see a confessor, but I demand the scaffold, and that at the earliest possible moment; 'tis my turn to be weary of waiting."
"Silence!" cried the duke, turning to the crowd. When silence was restored in obedience to his potent voice and glance, he said to Canolles:—
"Monsieur you may do as you choose."
"Thanks, monsieur. In that case, let us go, and quickly; may we not?"
Lenet took Canolles' arm.
"On the contrary, let us go slowly," said he. "Who knows? A reprieve, an occurrence that we cannot fore-see, are among the possibilities. Go slowly, I implore you in the name of her who loves you, and who will weep so bitterly if we go too fast."
"Oh! do not speak to me of her, I entreat; all my courage vanishes at the thought that I am to be parted forever from her. But what am I saying? On the other hand, Monsieur Lenet, do speak of her, tell me again and again that she loves me, and will always love me, and above all, that she will weep for me!"
"Come, come, my dear, unfortunate child," said Lenet, "do not give way to your feelings; remember that these men are looking at you, and that they know not of whom we are speaking."
Canolles proudly raised his head, and his hair fell in wavy black curls about his neck. By this time they were in the street; the light of many torches shone upon his calm and smiling face.
He could hear women weeping, and there were some who said:—
"Poor baron, so young and so fair!"
They marched along for some time in silence; suddenly he exclaimed:—
"Oh! Monsieur Lenet, I would that I might see her once more!"
"Do you wish me to go in search of her, and bring her to you?" asked Lenet, who had no longer any will of his own.
"Oh! yes," whispered Canolles.
"Very well! I will go; but you will kill her."
"So much the better!" whispered selfishness to the young man's heart; "if you kill her, she will never belong to another."
But he overcame this last weakness as suddenly as it assailed him.
"No, no," said he, seizing Lenet's hand; "you promised to remain with me, so remain."
"What does he say?" the duke inquired of the captain of the guards.
Canolles overheard the question.
"I was saying, Monsieur le Duc," said he, "that I thought it was not so far from the prison to the Esplanade."
"Alas!" interposed Lenet, "do not complain of the distance, my poor boy, for we have arrived."
As he spoke the torch-bearers and the head of the procession disappeared around a street-corner.
Lenet pressed the young man's hand, then went up to the duke, determined to make one last effort before they actually reached the place of execution.
"Monsieur," said he, "once more I implore you for mercy! you will ruin our cause by executing Monsieur de Canolles."
"On the contrary," retorted the duke, "we prove that we deem it a just cause, as we do not fear to make reprisals."
"But reprisals can only be made between equals, Monsieur le Duc, and whatever you may say, the queen will still be queen, and we her subjects."
"Let us not discuss such matters before Monsieur de Canolles," rejoined the duke aloud; "surely you can see the impropriety."
"Do not speak of mercy before Monsieur le Duc;" retorted Canolles; "surely you can see that hiscoup d'Étatis in process of accomplishment; do not annoy him for so small a matter."
The duke made no reply; but his compressed lips and his ironical glance showed that the blow had struck home. Meanwhile they had not ceased to go forward, and Canolles now found himself at the entrance to the Esplanade. In the distance, that is, at the other side of the square, could be seen the crowd, in a vast circle formed by the glittering musket-barrels. In the centre arose a shapeless black something, which Canolles could not clearly distinguish in the shadow, and he thought that it was an ordinary scaffold. But when the torches reached the centre of the square, their light fell full upon that black object, at first unrecognizable, and revealed the hideous silhouette of a gibbet.
"A gibbet!" cried Canolles, halting, and pointing to the structure. "Is not that a gibbet that I see yonder, Monsieur le Duc?"
"It is; you are not mistaken," he replied, coldly.
A wrathful flush reddened the young man's brow; he threw aside the two soldiers who were marching on either hand, and at one bound found himself face to face with Monsieur de La Rochefoucauld.
"Monsieur," he cried, "do you forget that I am of gentle blood? All the world knows, even the executioner himself, that a nobleman is entitled to be beheaded."
"Monsieur, there are circumstances—"
"It is not in my own name that I speak," Canolles interrupted, "but in the name of all the nobility, in which you hold so high a place, who have been prince and are now duke; it will be a lasting shame, not for me, who am innocent, but for one and all of you, that one of your caste should die upon the gallows."
"Monsieur, Richon was hanged by order of the king."
"Richon, monsieur, was a gallant soldier, and at heart as noble as any man in this wide world, but he was not of noble birth; I am."
"You forget," said the duke, "that this is a matter of reprisals; were you a prince of the blood, we would hang you."
Canolles instinctively put his hand to his side for his sword, but when he failed to find it there, the realization of his situation came over him once more in all its force; his wrath vanished, and he remembered that his real superiority lay in his very weakness.
"Monsieur philosopher," said he, "woe to those who resort to reprisals, and woe thrice over to those who, when they resort to them, lay aside all humanity! I did not plead for mercy, but justice. There are those who love me, monsieur; I emphasize the word, because I am aware that you yourself do not appreciate how one can love. Upon the hearts of those who love me you are about to impress forever, with the memory of my death, the dishonoring image of the gibbet. A sword-thrust, I beseech you, or a musket-ball! Give me your dagger that I may kill myself, and then you may hang my dead body if it will give you any pleasure."
"Richon was hanged alive, monsieur," was the cold reply.
"Be it so! Now, listen to what I say. Some day some frightful misfortune will overtake you; when that day comes, you will remember that it is punishment from on high: for my own part, I die with the firm conviction that my death is your work."
Thereupon Canolles, shuddering and pale, but filled with exalted courage, approached the gallows and stood, proud and disdainful, facing the populace, with his foot upon the first step of the ladder.
"Now, executioner," said he, "do your duty."
"There is only one!" cried the crowd in amazement; "the other! where is the other? we were promised two!"
"Ah! that is one thing that consoles me in a measure," said Canolles, with a smile; "this amiable populace is not content with what you are doing for it; do you hear what it says, Monsieur le Duc?"
"Death! death! vengeance for Richon!" roared ten thousand voices.
"If I irritate them," thought Canolles, "they are quite capable of tearing me in pieces; in that case I shall not be hanged, and Monsieur le Duc will go insane with rage.
"You are cowards!" he cried; "I see some among you who took part in the attack on Saint-Georges, when I made you all run away! You are venting your spite on me to-day because I whipped you."
A roar of rage was the only reply.
"You are cowards!" he repeated; "rebels, villains!"
A thousand knives gleamed in the air, and stones began to fall at the gallows foot.
"Good!" muttered Canolles. "The king hanged Richon," he added aloud, "and he did well; when he takes Bordeaux, he will hang many another—"
At these words the crowd rushed like a torrent toward the gallows, broke through the guards, overturned the palisades, and threw themselves, roaring like wild beasts, upon the prisoner.
At a gesture from the duke, one of the executioners raised Canolles by taking him under the arms, while the other adjusted a noose around his neck.
Canolles felt the cord and redoubled his taunts and insults; if he wished to be killed in time he had not a moment to lose.
At that supreme moment he looked around for the last time; he could see naught but naming eyes and threatening arms. One man, however, a mounted soldier, pointed to his musket.
"Cauvignac! 'tis Cauvignac!" cried Canolles, clinging to the ladder with both his hands, which were not bound.
Cauvignac made a motion indicating that he had been unable to save him, and levelled his weapon at him. Canolles understood him.
"Yes, yes!" he cried, emphasizing his words with his head.
Now let us see how Cauvignac happened to be at hand.
We saw Cauvignac taking his departure from Libourne, and we know the object of his journey.
When he reached the spot where his men, under Ferguzon's command, lay in camp, he paused an instant, not to take breath, but to put in execution a plan which his inventive genius had formed in half an hour and while he was riding like the wind.
In the first place he said to himself, with infinite good sense, that if he made his appearance before Madame la Princesse after what had happened, Madame la Princesse, who was about to hang Canolles, against whom she had nothing, would not fail to hang him, of whom she had good reason to complain; and so his mission, which might be successful in so far that Canolles would be saved, would assuredly fail in that he would be hanged. He lost no time therefore in changing coats with one of his soldiers, ordered Barrabas, whose face was less familiar to Madame la Princesse, to don his most elaborate costume, and started off again at a gallop for Bordeaux in that worthy's company. He was disturbed about one thing, namely, the contents of the letter of which he was the bearer, and which his sister had written with such absolute confidence that he had but to hand it to Madame la Princesse to ensure Canolles' safety. His uneasiness on this point increased to such a degree that he resolved to read the letter and set his mind at rest, remarking to himself that a shrewd negotiator could never succeed in his negotiation unless he knew all the ins and outs of the matter in hand; and then, too, if it must be said, Cauvignac never sinned in the direction of having too great confidence in his neighbor, and Nanon, though she was his sister,—indeed, for the very reason that she was his sister,—might very well bear her brother a grudge, in the first place because of the adventure of Jaulnay, and again because of his unforeseen escape from Château-Trompette, and might be trusting to chance to restore everything to its proper place.
He therefore unsealed the letter,—a very simple task, as it was sealed with a bit of wax only, and experienced a very strange and painful sensation as he read what follows:—
MADAME LA PRINCESSE,—It seems that you must have an expiatory victim for poor Richon's death; do not, I pray you, take an innocent man, but take the real culprit. I do not wish that Monsieur de Canolles should die, for to put him to death would be to avenge assassination by murder. As you read this letter I shall be within a league of Bordeaux, with all that I possess. You will deliver me to the populace, who detest me, for they have already tried twice to take my life, and you will keep for yourself my wealth, which amounts to two millions. Oh! madame, I ask this favor of you upon my knees; I am in part the cause of this war; with my death the province will be pacified and your Highness will be triumphant. Madame, a reprieve for quarter of an hour! You need not release Canolles until you have me in your power; but then, upon your soul, you will let him go, will you not?And I shall be respectfully and gratefully yours,NANON DE LARTIGUES.
MADAME LA PRINCESSE,—It seems that you must have an expiatory victim for poor Richon's death; do not, I pray you, take an innocent man, but take the real culprit. I do not wish that Monsieur de Canolles should die, for to put him to death would be to avenge assassination by murder. As you read this letter I shall be within a league of Bordeaux, with all that I possess. You will deliver me to the populace, who detest me, for they have already tried twice to take my life, and you will keep for yourself my wealth, which amounts to two millions. Oh! madame, I ask this favor of you upon my knees; I am in part the cause of this war; with my death the province will be pacified and your Highness will be triumphant. Madame, a reprieve for quarter of an hour! You need not release Canolles until you have me in your power; but then, upon your soul, you will let him go, will you not?
And I shall be respectfully and gratefully yours,
NANON DE LARTIGUES.
Having read the letter Cauvignac was amazed beyond expression to find his heart swollen with emotion and his eyes moist.
He sat motionless and silent as if he could not believe his eyes. Suddenly he cried:—
"It is true, then, that there are in the world hearts that are generous for the mere pleasure of being generous!Morbleu!she shall see that I am as capable as another of being generous when the need arises."
As they were at the gates of the city, he handed the letter to Barrabas, with these instructions simply:—
"To whatever is said to you, reply: 'On the king's business!' nothing more, and deliver this letter into no hands but Madame la Princesse's own."
While Barrabas galloped away toward the princess's temporary domicile, Cauvignac rode in the direction of Château-Trompette.
Barrabas met with no obstacle; the streets were empty, the city seemed deserted, for everybody had gone to the Esplanade.
At the palace gate the sentries undertook to forbid his passage, but, as Cauvignac bade him do, he waved his letter, crying:—
"On the king's business! On the king's business!"
The sentries took him for a messenger from the court, and raised their halberds, and Barrabas entered the palace without further hindrance.
If the reader will take the trouble to remember, this was not the first time that Master Cauvignac's worthy lieutenant had had the honor of appearing in Madame de Condé's presence. He alighted, and as he knew the road, darted rapidly up the staircase, passed through the crowd of startled servants, and made his way into the princess's suite. There he halted, for he found himself face to face with a woman at whose feet another woman was kneeling.
"Oh! madame, mercy, in the name of Heaven!" the latter was saying.
"Leave me, Claire," replied the princess; "be reasonable; remember that we have laid aside the emotions of womankind as well as the garments; we are Monsieur le Prince's lieutenants, and reasons of State control our actions."
"Oh! madame, there are no such things as reasons of State for me," cried Claire; "nor political parties; nor opinions. For me there is nothing and nobody in the world but the man who is to leave it, and when he has left it there will be naught for me but death!"
"Claire, my child, I have already told you that it is impossible; they put Richon to death, and if we do not return like for like we shall be dishonored."
"Ah! madame, one is never dishonored for having pardoned; one is never dishonored for having made use of the prerogative which belongs only to the King of Heaven, and the kings of earth; one word, madame, a single word; the poor boy is waiting!"
"Why, Claire, you are mad! I tell you it is impossible!"
"But I told him that he was safe; I showed him his pardon signed by your own hand; I told him that I would return with your ratification of the pardon!"
"I signed it on condition that the other was to die; why did he allow the other to escape?"
"He had absolutely no part in the escape, I give you my solemn word; besides, the other may not have escaped; he may yet be found."
"Very true! beware!" interposed Barrabas, who arrived at that moment.
"Madame, they will take him away; the time is flying, madame; they will grow weary of waiting."
"You are right, Claire," said the princess, "for I ordered that it should be all over at eleven, and the clock is just striking eleven; it must be all over."
The viscountess uttered a shriek of despair, and rose to her feet, to find herself face to face with Barrabas.
"Who are you? what do you want?" she cried. "Have you come so soon to tell me of his death?"
"No, madame," replied Barrabas, assuming his most affable expression, "on the contrary, I come to save him."
"How so?" cried Claire; "speak at once!"
"By handing this letter to Madame la Princesse."
Claire put out her hand, snatched the letter from the messenger, and handed it to the princess.
"I have no idea what there may be in this letter," said she, "but in Heaven's name read it!"
The princess opened the letter and read it aloud, while Madame de Cambes, turning paler at every line, devoured the words as they fell from her Highness's lips.
"From Nanon?" cried the princess when she had read it through. "Nanon is close by! Nanon gives herself up! Where is Lenet? Where is the duke? Call a messenger, a messenger!"
"I am here, madame," said Barrabas, "ready to go wherever your Highness would have me."
"Go to the Esplanade, to the place of execution, and bid them suspend operations,—but no, they would not believe you," she added, and seizing her pen, wrote at the bottom of the letter, "Suspend!" and handed it open to Barrabas, who rushed from the room.
"Ah!" murmured the viscountess, "she loves him more dearly than I; and he will owe his life to her, wretched creature that I am!"
Stunned by that thought, she fell helplessly upon a chair, although she had received upon her feet all the crushing blows of that terrible day.
Meanwhile Barrabas did not lose a second; he flew down the stairs as if he had wings, leaped upon his horse, and rode furiously away toward the Esplanade.
While he was on his way to the palace, Cauvignac had ridden straight to Château-Trompette. There, favored by the darkness, and rendered unrecognizable by the broad brim of his hat being pulled down over his eyes, he had questioned the bystanders and learned the whole story of his escape in all its details, and that Canolles was to pay the penalty for him. Instinctively, hardly aware of what he was doing, he thereupon hurried away to the Esplanade, driving the spurs into his horse, galloping madly through the crowd, upsetting and riding over every one who came in his way.
When he reached the Esplanade he spied the gallows, and uttered a yell, which was drowned by the howling of the populace, upon whom Canolles was heaping insults in order to excite them to tear him to pieces. It was then that Canolles saw him, divined his purpose, and motioned to him that he was welcome.
Cauvignac stood up in his stirrups and looked in every direction, hoping to see Barrabas or some messenger from the princess, and listening to hear the word: "Reprieve!" but he could see nobody and could hear nobody save Canolles, whom the executioner was just about to push from the ladder into eternity, and who pointed to his heart.
Thereupon Cauvignac raised his musket, pointed it toward the young man, took careful aim, and fired.
"Thanks!" said Canolles, opening his arms; "at least I die the death of a soldier."
The ball pierced his breast.
The executioner pushed the body from the ladder, and it swung at the end of the infamous rope; but it was nothing more than a corpse.
It was as if the report of the musket was a signal, so quickly was it followed by a thousand others.
Suddenly a voice cried:—
"Stop! stop! cut the rope!"
But the voice was drowned in the yelling of the mob; moreover, the rope was cut by a bullet. In vain did the guard resist; they were overborne by the huge waves of people; the gallows was overthrown and demolished; the executioners took flight; the crowd overflowed the square, seized upon the body, tore it limb from limb, and dragged the pieces about through the streets.
Stupid in its hatred, it believed that it was adding to the young nobleman's punishment, whereas it was really saving him from the infamy he dreaded so deeply.
During this scene Barrabas accosted the duke, and handed him the letter of which he was the bearer, although he could see for himself that he had arrived too late.
The duke, notwithstanding the brisk discharge of firearms, simply drew a little aside,—for his courage was as calm and cool as every other of his qualities,—and read the letter.
"It's a pity," he said, turning to his officers; "the plan that this Nanon suggests would have been preferable perhaps; but what's done is done.—By the way," he added after reflecting a moment, "as she is to await our reply on the other side of the river, we may even yet be able to gratify her."
Without further thought for the messenger, he put spurs to his horse, and rode back with his escort to the princess.
At that moment the storm which had been gathering for some time, burst over Bordeaux, and a heavy rain, accompanied with vivid lightning, deluged the Esplanade as if to wash it clean of innocent blood.
While these things were taking place at Bordeaux, while the people were dragging the body of poor Canolles through the street, while the Duc de La Rochefoucauld was returning to flatter the pride of Madame la Princesse by pointing out to her that her power to do evil was as great as any queen's, while Cauvignac was spurring toward the city gates with Barrabas, deeming it useless to pursue their mission farther, a carriage drawn by four breathless, foam-flecked horses, came to a standstill upon the shore of the Garonne opposite Bordeaux, and between the villages of Belcroix and La Bastide.
Eleven o'clock had just struck.
A mounted courier, who followed the carriage, leaped hastily to the ground as it stopped, and opened the door.
A woman hurriedly alighted, looked up at the sky, which was all ablaze with a bright red light, and listened to the distant shouts and noises.
"You are sure," said she to the maid who alighted after her, "that we have not been followed?"
"No, madame; the two outriders who remained behind at madame's command, have just come up with the carriage, and they have not seen or heard anything."
"Do not you hear anything in the direction of the city?"
"It seems to me that I hear shouting in the distance."
"Do you see nothing?"
"I see something like the reflection of a fire."
"Those are torches."
"Yes, madame, yes, for they move about and dance up and down like wills o' the wisp; do you hear how much louder and more distinct the shouts seem to grow, madame?"
"Mon Dieu!"faltered the young woman, falling on her knees upon the damp soil;"mon Dieu! mon Dieu!"
It was her only prayer. A single word presented itself to her mind; her lips could pronounce no other; it was the name of him who alone could perform a miracle in her favor.
The maid was not mistaken. Torches were waving and the cries seemed to be coming nearer; a musket-shot rang out, followed by fifty others and by a tremendous uproar; then the torches vanished and the shouts receded; a storm was rumbling overhead, the rain began to fall; but what cared Nanon for that? It was not the lightning of which she was afraid.
Her eyes were constantly fixed upon the spot where she had heard so great a tumult. She could no longer see or hear anything at that spot, and it seemed to her in the glare of the lightning that the square was empty.
"Oh! I haven't the strength to wait here any longer," she cried. "To Bordeaux! take me to Bordeaux!"
Suddenly she heard the sound of horses' footsteps rapidly approaching.
"Ah! they are coming at last," she cried. "Here they are! Adieu, Finette, I must go alone; take her up behind you, Lombard, and leave in the carriage everything that I brought."
"But what do you mean to do, madame, in God's name?" cried the terrified maid.
"Adieu, Finette; adieu!"
"But why, adieu, madame? Where are you going?"
"I am going to Bordeaux."
"Oh! don't do that, madame, in heaven's name! they will kill you."
"Very good! for what purpose do you suppose that I am going thither?"
"Oh! madame! Help, Lombard! help me prevent madame—"
"Hush! leave me, Finette. I have remembered you, never fear: go; I do not wish that any harm should befall you. Obey me! They are coming nearer, here they are."
As she spoke a man galloped up to the carriage, followed at some little distance by another horseman; his horse was roaring rather than breathing.
"Sister! sister!" he cried. "Ah! I come in time!"
"Cauvignac!" cried Nanon. "Well, is it all arranged? Is he awaiting me? Shall we go?"
But, instead of replying, Cauvignac leaped down from his horse, and seized Nanon in his arms. She allowed him to do as he pleased, with the stiff inertness of ghosts and fools. He placed her in the carriage, bade Lombard and Francinette take their places beside her, closed the door, and leaped upon his horse. In vain did poor Nanon, once more in possession of her faculties, shriek and struggle.
"Do not release her," said Cauvignac: "whatever happens do not release her. Keep the other door, Barrabas, and do you, coachman, keep your horses on the gallop or I'll blow your brains out."
These orders followed one another so rapidly that there was a moment's delay in putting them in execution; the carriage was slow to move, the servants were trembling with apprehension, even the horses seemed to hesitate.
"Look alive there, ten thousand devils!" shouted Cauvignac; "they are coming! they are coming!"
In the distance could be heard the hoof-beats of many horses, approaching rapidly with a noise like thunder.
Fear is contagious. The coachman, at Cauvignac's threat, realized that some great danger was impending, and seized the reins.
"Where are we going?" he faltered.
"To Bordeaux! to Bordeaux!" cried Nanon from within the carriage.
"To Libourne, ten thousand furies!" cried Cauvignac.
"Monsieur, the horses will fall before they have gone two leagues."
"I don't ask them to go so far!" retorted Cauvignac, spurring them with his sword. "Let them hold out as far as Ferguzon's camp, that's all I ask."
The heavy vehicle thereupon set forth at a terrifying pace. Men and horses, sweating, gasping, bleeding, urged one another on, the first by their shouts, the others by their loud neighing.
Nanon tried to resist, to free herself, to leap down from the carriage, but she exhausted her strength in the struggle, and soon fell back utterly worn out; she was no longer conscious of what was taking place. By dint of seeking to distinguish Cauvignac amid the hurly-burly of fleeing shadows, her head went round and round; she closed her eyes with a despairing cry, and lay cold and motionless in her maid's arms.
Cauvignac rode forward to the horses' heads. His horse left a trail of fire along the road.
"Help, Ferguzon! help!" he cried.
His call was answered by a cheer in the distance.
"Demons of hell," cried Cauvignac, "you are playing against me, but I believe, upon my soul, that you will lose again to-day. Ferguzon! Ferguzon! help!"
Two or three musket shots rang out in their rear, and were answered by a general discharge from in front.
The carriage came to a stand-still; two of the horses fell from exhaustion, and a third was struck by a bullet.
Ferguzon and his men fell upon the troops of Monsieur de La Rochefoucauld; as they outnumbered them three to one, the Bordelais soon found it hopeless to continue the struggle; they turned tail and fled, and victors and vanquished, pursuers and pursued, vanished in the darkness like a cloud driven by the wind.
Cauvignac remained with the footmen and Francinette beside the insensible Nanon. Luckily they were within a hundred yards of the village of Carbonblanc. Cauvignac carried Nanon in his arms as far as the first house; and there, having given orders to bring up the carriage, placed his sister upon a bed, and, taking from his breast an object which Francinette could not distinguish, slipped it into the poor woman's clenched hand.
The next morning, on awaking from what she thought at first was a frightful dream, Nanon put her hand to her face, and felt something soft and silky caress her pale cheeks. It was a lock of Canolles' hair which Cauvignac had heroically rescued, at the peril of his life, from the Bordelais tigers.
For eight days and nights Madame de Cambes lay tossing in delirium upon the bed to which she was carried, unconscious, upon learning the terrible news.
Her women took care of her, but Pompée kept the door; no other than the old servant, as he knelt beside his unhappy mistress's bed, could awake in her a glimmer of reason.
Numerous visitors besieged the door; but the faithful squire, as inflexible in carrying out his orders as an old soldier should be, courageously denied admission to all comers, at first from the conviction that any visitor whatsoever would annoy his mistress, and subsequently by order of the physician, who feared the effect of too great excitement.
Every morning Lenet presented himself at the door, but it was closed to him as to all others. Madame la Princesse herself appeared there with a large retinue, one day when she had been to call upon poor Richon's mother, who lived in a suburb of the city. It was her purpose, aside from her interest in the viscountess, to show perfect impartiality. She came therefore, intending to play the gracious sovereign; but Pompée informed her with the utmost respect that he had strict orders from which he could not depart; that all men, even dukes and generals, and all women, even princesses, were included in the terms of his orders, and Madame de Condé above all others, inasmuch as a visit from her, after what had happened, would be likely to cause a terrible paroxysm.
The princess, who was fulfilling, or thought she was fulfilling, a duty, and asked nothing better than to avoid the interview, did not wait to be told twice, but took her leave with her suite.
On the ninth day Claire recovered consciousness; it was noticed that, during her delirium, which lasted eight times twenty-four hours, she wept incessantly; although fever ordinarily dries up the source of tears, hers had ploughed a furrow, so to speak, beneath her eyes, which were surrounded by a circle of red and pale blue, like those of the sublime Virgin of Rubens.
On the ninth day, as we have said, when it was least expected, and when her attendants were beginning to lose hope, her reason suddenly returned, as if by enchantment; her tears ceased to flow; her eyes gazed about upon her surroundings, and rested with a sad smile upon the maids who had cared for her so zealously, and upon Pompée who had so faithfully stood guard at her door. Then she lay for some hours, with her head resting on her hand, without speaking, dry-eyed, dwelling upon the same thought, which recurred to her mind again and again with ever-increasing force.