CHAPTER XVTHE SIGNAL
CHOIN had been too well instructed by Péron to express any surprise at finding the door of the tall house unfastened, and he and one of his men entered, and lighted some tapers they had brought with them, in two of the lower rooms. But before he assisted mademoiselle to dismount, Péron went into the house also, and finding his way to the stairs, began the ascent; he could not be satisfied until he knew whether Richelieu’s men were there or not. On this point, however, he was soon reassured, for he had scarcely taken three steps up before he was softly challenged, and giving the cardinal’s watchword, received the reply. He found five of monsignor’s picked men sitting cross-legged on the floor, around a rushlight, playing cards with perfect nonchalance. The tightly shuttered windows hid this faint illumination from the outside, and the soldiers played piquet in such absolute silence that their presence was not easily detected even by any one on the lower floor. Péron only stayedlong enough to exchange a few words with the leader, a quiet man of middle age, who understood his business. Neither he nor Péron had any distinct idea of how large a party might be expected to follow the appearance of Mademoiselle de Nançay; but the advantage was with those in the house, and it seemed that they might be equal to twice their numbers. After a brief exchange of views on the best means of securing a large body of prisoners, Péron quietly descended the stairs once more and went out to assist mademoiselle to dismount. But he found that she and her woman were already standing on the step, a broad, flat stone at the entrance, and she was in no very good humor at being compelled to wait in the cold. He apologized for the delay and invited her to enter the room at the rear, a small one, which he had selected as being near enough to the stairs for him to be able to get her to a place of safety in the event of a fight. But he forgot her wayward temper; she would have none of the back room.
“I should die here!” she announced, shivering at the chill and the bleak aspect of the place, for the house was only partially furnished, and that with the plainest of furniture; “I will go into the front room; there I can have a fire, and at least two tapers.”
“But, mademoiselle,” remonstrated Péron, “I chose this room for serious reasons. I—”
“But, monsieur,” she retorted tartly, “I choose the other for serious reasons. Sirrah, get some fagots and build me a fire,” she added sharply, addressing one of Choin’s troopers who was lounging on a settle in the larger room, which she had now entered.
The man roused himself at her words, and stumbled awkwardly to his feet, but he looked to Péron for orders. Mademoiselle de Nançay stamped her foot on the floor.
“I tell you I will have a fire,” she said angrily.
Choin had entered as she spoke, and her peremptory manner angered the maître d’armes.
“Mademoiselle shall have a fire if our leader orders it; otherwise not,” he said bluntly.
Renée stared at the stout Italian, her great eyes flashing in the loopholes of her mask, but she was quick to recognize honest courage even of the lower sort, and in her heart she forgave Choin for his brusque manner. But before there was a clash between the two, Péron interfered and ordered the soldier to build a fire if he could find fuel enough in the house. Fortunately there was a small supply, the place having been recently occupied, and mademoiselle sat down, still cloaked and masked, to watch the buildingof the fire, while Péron sent the horses away in the charge of another trooper to the stables of the Golden Pigeon, to be fed and watered that they might be in condition for future use. He then gave his thoughts to the disposition of his men; Choin he posted at the rear entrance to the house, which he had reconnoitered and found opened into a deserted garden surrounded by a low wall. For the time being he allowed the other men to rest in the room which mademoiselle had refused to occupy, and for himself retained the place at the front door, which he believed to be the point of danger. There was a small grille in the upper half of this door, and through this he could dimly see the black outline of the houses across the lane, and above, the far-off glimmer of the stars. It was too dark to see twenty yards away, and the night was very still though it was not yet eight o’clock. The man in command above stairs had told him that the cardinal’s orders were that all shutters should remain tightly closed and no light be shown. This being the case, Péron could not divine how mademoiselle’s presence in the house could be discovered or serve as a decoy for the conspirators. He was sorry that on this point he had not asked for more precise instructions, but remembered that she was not to appear at the window, and he could only suppose that theirspies had seen her arrival and would report it. But even on this head he was not satisfied; he thought of her determination to pass in full view of the Golden Pigeon, and he did not know what significance might be attached to that, or if it had any beyond the wilfulness of a spoiled beauty. He had, too, a quick sympathy for her in her unpleasant situation,—her father in the hands of his worst enemy, and she compelled to play the rôle of a traitress to her own party. He could understand and even pardon the bitterness of her mood when he remembered all that she had to undergo. What to do with her, and how to protect her, was a problem which troubled him much; for to try to control her motions was like trying to handle a thistle. He had every expectation of a sharp affray, and it was hardly probable that any number of desperate men would allow themselves to be entrapped without much bloodshed, and he did not know how near or dear some of them might be to Renée de Nançay. What she would do under such circumstances was a perplexing problem. Unless he used force, he could scarcely hope to keep her out of the reach of danger. He had no personal anxieties about the result of the struggle, but what should he do with mademoiselle? Her woman, too, he regarded as mischievous, and she belonged to thatheroic build of womanhood which can strike as stiff a blow as most men and better than some. Her stubborn loyalty to her mistress recommended her to him, but he recognized an additional danger in the fire of her fierce black eyes. That she was equal to stabbing one or more of his men in the back while they were engaged with her friends in front, he did not doubt. Yet to lock Ninon and her mistress in a room overhead was a measure which he could not view with favor. He had had no previous dealings with women, and he had a profound dislike of using strong measures toward the weaker sex.
While he was revolving all these matters in his mind, the man who had taken the horses to the Golden Pigeon returned and reported that all seemed quiet enough, though he had observed a number of men gathered in the courtyard of the inn, and he had noticed that all wore knots of pale blue ribbon somewhere about them, either on hat or cloak or sword hilt. But for the rest there was nothing remarkable, and they apparently took no heed of him, although he had noticed two knaves stealing into the stable to stare at his horses. For the moment Péron was uneasy with the thought that these might be stolen, but reflected that the landlord of the Golden Pigeon was too prudent a man to take any risk of havingto make good the loss of seven horses with their equipments.
Having disposed his sentinels to his satisfaction, Péron went to see if all was well with his involuntary guests. He had no doubt of the meaning of the pale blue ribbons now, and grew more alert and in better spirits as the danger approached. He was a born fighter, and but for the responsibility of mademoiselle’s presence, would have enjoyed the prospect of a sharp skirmish; an adventure without peril was never to his taste.
He found the two women alone in the room, where the fire was still smoking, having been kindled with partially green wood. There was a plain oaken settle in the room, and two or three stiff chairs; there was no rug on the floor, but it was partly covered with rushes. It was a bare enough place; and he noticed that they had extinguished one of the tapers, leaving the other burning in a niche on the wall. Ninon lay, half reclining, on the settle, her cloak rolled up into a pillow under her head, while mademoiselle sat bolt upright in one of the chairs by the fire, staring angrily into the flames. She had laid aside cloak and mask and was revealed in her simple gray gown, her hair disordered by the ride, lying in loose curls on her shoulders. She had a brilliantcolor in her cheeks, and her eyes sparkled with anger; yet she looked unusually beautiful, the very picture of a wilful, spoiled child of fortune. Péron, standing at the door, bowed to her gravely and asked if he could do anything more to make her comfortable.
“Ay, sir,” she said haughtily; “send for my horse and let me go on to the Château de Nançay.”
“I would gladly, but for my orders, mademoiselle,” he replied, with truth.
She shrugged her shoulders. “I am tired of your orders, M. de Calvisson,” she remarked. “If I were a man, I would take orders from no one but my own conscience.”
“Mademoiselle, if you owed monsignor as much as I do,” he replied dryly, “you would serve him from love and not from fear.”
She elevated her eyebrows with an air of incredulity.
“Ciel!” she exclaimed; “is it possible that you love Cardinal de Richelieu?”
“I should be an ingrate if I did not,” he retorted boldly. “It is always possible, mademoiselle, for a statesman to make enemies; M. le Cardinal has made many, but had he no other friend, I would be one still.”
She smiled scornfully. “I admire your devotion,monsieur,” she said; “it is doubtless worth the hire.”
“Mademoiselle,” Péron exclaimed hoarsely, “you take advantage of your sex!”
“You forget, M. de Calvisson,” she replied, “that a prisoner has no resource but her tongue. However, I beg your pardon, I spoke in anger.”
He bowed gravely, too deeply incensed to reply, and remembering the cardinal’s instructions about the shutters, he walked across the room toward the nearest of the two windows and began to make the fastenings more secure. As he did so, mademoiselle rose deliberately, and taking the taper in her hand, walked to the other window.
“Is this also secure, monsieur?” she asked, in a tone of propitiation. “’Tis well to fasten the bolts, for we two women need a little undisturbed rest.”
As she spoke she laid her hand on the bolt, and Péron, deceived by her manner, turned to examine that shutter with no unusual haste. So it happened that before he suspected her intention, she had flung open the blind, and in an instant tossed the burning taper out into the darkness of the night. He sprang forward and fastened the shutter in a moment, but he fancied that the mischief was already done, for she stood laughing and looking at him with shining eyes, the samelook of triumph on her face that it had worn on the day when she burned the papers. What manner of signal it was, though, he was at loss to divine, but he saw that he must watch her as closely as a cat watches a mouse, or she would defeat every plan of the cardinal’s as easily as she routed him at every point. But he had no wish to subject himself to the sharp cuts of her tongue, nor did he wish to intrude on the little privacy she had. Fortunately, he was relieved of either necessity by seeing a hammer and some nails in the corner by the door. He called one of the men and briefly directed him to nail up the shutters as quickly as possible. This was an easy task, and when it was done, he sent the man away.
“Mademoiselle,” he said gravely, “I regret to take this extreme measure, but there is no alternative.”
She was again sitting by the fire, and she looked up with a roguish face.
“I thank you for the greater security, monsieur,” she replied with a smile. “There is a proverb about fastening the door of a house after the thieves have gone.”
Péron bowed gravely. “I understand you, mademoiselle,” he replied; “’tis evident that—in spite of Ruel—I was born a fool.”
With this, he went out and closed the door that the two might be undisturbed, and resumed his place at the grille, angry and mortified, but determined to make amends for past blunders by redoubled vigilance.