Burton Egbert Stevenson

“ M. le Comte’s château of Cadillac stood upon the east bank of the Garonne, some ten leagues to the south of Montauban. My father had taken me thither once, when I was a mere boy,—what business called him there I do not know,—and I remember quite clearly the great house, with its high, graceful central tower, its broad wings, and the pretty park in front, sloping sweetly down to the river’s edge. It beseemed me at the time that the palace of the King of France must be less beautiful; but, alas, one’s eyes grow more critical with age! ”

“ I remember perhaps a dozen such intervals of dim consciousness. Always there was Fronsac bending over me, and sometimes I fancied there was another in the room, who whisked away at the first sign of my awakening.
[203] A third face too there was. At first I did not know it, but stared stupidly up at it—and then, at last, I recognized Briquet, the surgeon of M. le Duc. For a moment my blood ran cold to see him standing so, for I thought myself again upon the rack. But a second glance dispelled my terror. His face had changed. ”

“ What was it Letourge had said, “He will finish the work he began in the Rue Gogard.” The Rue Gogard—but that was where I had met Claire. Could it be that it was Letourge and M. le Comte whom I had resisted there; that it was into the face of M. le Comte himself that white-hot iron had seared? I shuddered as I recalled the hiss of the iron into his flesh, the smell of burning, his cry of agony! Small wonder he should thirst for vengeance! Death on the gibbet would be merciful beside the torture which he had suffered and which he must suffer still. ”

“ I saw Madame la Duchesse de Roquefort moving like a queen among her vassals. There existed no longer Claire, the sweet, simple, ingenuous girl I had known, new to the world, fresh from the convent—there was now only the great lady. M. le Comte himself, great as he was, had been proud to bend his head and kiss her hand. [209] Who was great enough, strong enough, bold enough, to aspire to her lips? Well, I would still love the girl—I would hold her locked in my heart—the great lady might go her way. ”

“ D’Aurilly stood beside him, and he smiled maliciously as he noted my torn and disordered clothing, drenched with water, and the bruises on my head and face. Plainly he had not forgot that blow on the mouth—at which I did not greatly wonder, for neither should I have forgot it.
“M. de Marsan,” said M. le Comte, when I stood before him, “I have had you brought here in place of ordering you straight to the gallows that you may answer certain questions I have to ask of you. ’Twill be wise on your part to answer them fully and truthfully.” ”

“ Day and night we pushed on, until our horses stumbled under us, over hill, through valley, avoiding the roads, seeking hidden ways, where M. le Comte would not think to follow. And always my guard was about me, until at last I came to see that Roquefort was taking no chance of losing me—no [110] chance of missing his vengeance. The women were kept to the rear of the column; Fronsac I seldom saw; d’Aurilly passed me by with a sneering smile that turned me hot for murder. Well that I was young and strong, with a boy’s hopeful heart, else had despair weighed me down! ”

“ Suppose you play the coward—suppose you are alive at nine o’clock—you here in this hole, looking death in the face—this enchanting Nanette before the altar looking into the face of her husband! Bah!” and she made a sudden grimace. “I think I should prefer your part, Monsieur. Death itself must be less hideous than Jean Briquet. All the same,” she added, “you will do well to drink with a steady hand—you will find it a pleasant death—a dropping to sleep, sweet dreams, and then—darkness. I know. I have seen others, happy, smiling, sink into the abyss. ”

“ Basarge. I became Mère Fouchon, a consort of thieves and drabs—a receiver of stolen goods—a thing of the night. Do you fancy I relished it, Monsieur? At the end of ten years, I thought it safe to emerge from the darkness. I became concierge of the house in the Rue du Chantre, and dreamed of a day when I might regain my old place in the world. I had been in hell, but I fancied I could drag myself out.”
Again she paused, and I looked at her with something like pity in my heart. I could see what those ten years in the sewers of Paris had done for her. D’Argenson’s theory, then, had been correct. ”

“ I had, it is true, saved Mademoiselle Valérie from the most immediate danger which threatened her, but only to hurl her into an abyss more frightful. For Roquefort had said that he would soon select another man to wed her,—one of his followers, no doubt; base-born, vulgar, low, more odious even than d’Aurilly,—so that in the end she must fare worse than ever. For a moment I found it in my heart to regret that I had killed d’Aurilly, then the memory of his great villainies came back to me and the regret passed. Earth were well rid of him! ”

“ M. RIBAUT IS OBDURATE
She sat looking at me for a moment without speaking, her chin in her hands, her eyes bright.
“That is life!” she said, at last. “That is living! That is what I long for! And, oh, how I shall love your sister! What is her name, Pierre?”
“Ninon,” I answered.
“Ninon!” and she lingered on the word. “Why, that is almost Nanette! Oh, that I could see her, now—this moment!”
“Perhaps you soon will—that cottage at St. Cloud, you know,” and I smiled at her eager face. “Come, it is time for me to pay my respects to your amiable uncle.” ”

“ One man I might play even with, but not with the half dozen who sprang to Drouet’s aid, and at the end of a moment, seeing resistance useless, I lay still, cursing my ill-fortune. The struggle had awakened all the men, and they crowded about us, asking many questions.
“What is this?” cried a deep voice from the door. “Fighting among yourselves? God! But some head shall suffer!”
I recognized the voice and got slowly to my feet, as Roquefort strode into the light cast by the fire. I looked at him in amazement, for his eyes were bloodshot, his face haggard, his clothing stained with mud. ”

“ Why, Monsieur, he would be too late were he thundering at the gate this instant!”
I saw d’Aurilly leering down at me, all his malicious joy in his hawk-face, and the sight fired my blood.
“At least,” I said, “I shall die an honest man, and neither a spy, a traitor, nor an abductor of women!”
D’Aurilly started from his seat with an oath, and in an instant I should have had my fingers at his throat, but that Roquefort held him back.
“No, no,” he laughed. “Restrain yourself, d’Aurilly. That were too swift a way. One blow of a sword and it is over—but the rack is different. ”

“ I imagine that these good people whom we are going to surprise will believe they see a ghost when you appear before them,” he added, with a smile. “Upon my word, I doubt if even the charming Nanette will know you. You are enough to frighten a woman half to death.”
“There was no time,” I said, “or I should have changed my garments.”
“No, no,” cried d’Argenson, “I would not have one speck of dirt less. Believe me, with that bloody head, those torn hands, those filthy clothes, those haggard eyes—and above everything, with that belt of iron about your waist—you are admirable!” ”

“ It had remained for me to be the first to betray him—though how was I to know?—and to be the first of the Marsans to die with a rope about his neck. I saw tumbling about my ears all those pretty castles in the air which I had spent so much time in building while floating along the Midouze or taking a lesson with the sword from old Maitre Perigneau, who had tested his art by my father’s side—and my grandfather’s, as well—in a hundred combats. It is not a pleasant thing when one is only twenty, with a heart warm for adventure, to see just ahead the end of the path—and such an end! ”

“ Besides, who could know my errand from Marsan, and, not knowing it, who would set a trap for so small a bird as I? Then, suddenly, as we turned a corner, I heard the sound of angry voices and saw a light streaming redly through an open doorway. In a moment we had reached it, and I paused in astonishment as I saw what lay within.
There was a great fire blazing on the hearth, which threw into sharp relief a bed with disordered hangings, an open desk with papers overflowing from it to the floor, a chair overturned, even the faded tapestry upon the walls. ”

“ D’Aurilly’s eyes were on the floor, but he kept countenance well.
“I am quite ready for the test, M. le Comte,” he said quietly. “Nothing will delight me more than to see a traitor get his dues.”
“Nor me,” assented M. le Comte, and looked at him a moment longer. Then he turned again to his men with fire in his eyes. “Arm yourselves, Messieurs!” he cried. “In twenty minutes we must be en route to Cadillac. Should this dog of a Roquefort, who dares fight only women, have been there before us, we will follow him even to his den in the Pyrenees and drag him forth like the cur he is! À outrance!” ”

“ I crouched low into the shadow of the battlement, and, motioning Fronsac to follow, stole slowly forward. As we drew near I saw that Roquefort still held the girl by the arm.
“You will listen to reason,” he was saying roughly. “Not to-morrow but the next day shall you be wedded. I will provide the man—and while he may not be a beauty, I am sure he will love you as you deserve. There is no way out, Mademoiselle, I swear it. I am not like to permit such a pretty bird to slip through my fingers.” ”

“ My brain was whirling as I saw Nanette look piteously at me. I started after them to commit I know not what act of violence, but d’Argenson waved me back.
“Stop a moment, M. Ribaut,” he called. “There is only one thing which can release your niece from the duty of obedience to you. That is her marriage. You have lost your right to exact obedience in that.”
He descended to Nanette’s side and took her hands. He smiled into her eyes, and her face brightened as she looked at him.
“I repeat, Mademoiselle,” he said, “that your marriage is the only thing which can make you independent of your uncle. ”

“ In a moment a figure entered from the dark corner.
“Here is work for you,” said Roquefort, and pointed to the man on the floor.
The surgeon bent over him for a moment, felt his wrist, and looked into his eyes. Then he stood up again.
“There is work for the grave-digger, not for me, M. le Duc,” he said. “You twisted the necklet a shade too tightly.”
“Necklet!” repeated Roquefort, strangled by rage. “Body of God! It was no necklet—’twas yonder scoundrel’s fingers!”
Briquet turned and looked at me with a little air of curiosity.
“They must be strong ones,” he observed, simply. ”

“ For an instant, as I looked at them, my eyes were dazzled, and then I saw that on a platform below the lights sat Roquefort and by his side d’Aurilly. A dozen men-at-arms stood guard, with something sinister and threatening in their very immobility, and in the corner to one side I caught a glimpse of an array of great, shapeless things, whose uses I did not permit my thoughts to dwell upon. ”

“ I groaned for reply.
“Oh, M. Pierre,” she whispered, bending over me, “I have the file. Here is the file.”
“The file!” I cried. “Oh, give it me, Ninon! There is not a moment to lose.”
She placed her trembling hand in mine and gave me the file. I ran my fingers over it. It was old, rusty, dull—but it had been a good file, once; doubtless part of some long-dead burglar’s kit—would it do the work? In an agony of haste I ran my hand along the chain until I found what seemed the weakest link, and set to work upon it. ”

“ To fall in fair fight, in warm blood, in the open day, were nothing—a man could go to death then gladly. But slowly, in a dark cellar, with others looking on exulting—ugh! I felt my nerves quivering at the horror of the thought—and [123] then, with set teeth, I put the weakness from me. Other men—yes, and women—had gone to the same fate with smiling lips—why not I, a Marsan?
So when Drouet opened the door again he found me looking from my window down upon M. le Comte’s camp, and I flatter myself that he was surprised at the calmness of my greeting. ”

“ She is pretty, oh, so pretty, even though her eyes were red with weeping. Tell me, M. Pierre, must one be pretty to be loved?”
“Oh, no, Ninon,” I said. “One needs only to be good. You are good, Ninon, and there will be [345] somebody some day who will love you and who will make you happy.”
She said nothing for a moment, as though pondering this answer.
“No, there never will be any one, M. Pierre,” she said at last, with a little sigh. “But this Nanette—ah, she is adorable. She heard your voice when you came in that night, calling her name. She thinks you dead, M. Pierre. ”

“ To play traitor to a man for long years—to seem his friend and yet to hate him—and then, at the end, to lay the treachery bare before him! I understood now, as M. le Comte had done, that look of terror in Roquefort’s eyes, and found it in my heart to pity him. ”

“ The surgeon was soon there, and bent over Roquefort with grave face. He wiped the blood from his lips, raised his head, and examined [189] with deft fingers the wound Fronsac’s musket had inflicted, then, tearing away his clothing, put his ear against his chest. He listened a moment so, then stood erect again.
“’Tis as I feared, M. le Comte,” he said. “The wound in the head is nothing—a glance blow that tore the scalp and produced a slight palsy; but his chest is crushed; he bleeds within. I have seen men so who have fallen beneath their horses, but I have never yet seen one get well again.” ”