A Gentleman of France: Being the Memoirs of Gaston de Bonne Sieur de Marsac

by Stanley John Weyman

  CHAPTER XXX. STRICKEN.

  Outside the door, standing in the dimness of the landing, I found M.d'Agen. At any other time I should have been the first to ask him why hehad left the post which I had assigned to him. But at the moment I wasoff my balance, and his presence suggested nothing more than that herewas the very person who could best execute my wishes. I held out the keyto him at arms length, and bade him release Mademoiselle de la Vire, whowas in the room above, and escort her out of the castle. 'Do not lether linger here,' I continued urgently. 'Take her to the place where wefound the wood-cutters. You need fear no resistance.'

  'But Bruhl?' he said, as he took the key mechanically from me.

  'He is out of the question,' I answered in a low voice. 'We have donewith him. He has the plague.'

  He uttered a sharp exclamation. 'What of madame, then?' he muttered.

  'She is with him,' I said.

  He cried out suddenly at that, sucking in his breath, as I have knownmen do in pain. And but that I drew back he would have laid his hand onmy sleeve. 'With him?' he stammered. 'How is that?'

  'Why, man, where else should she be?' I answered, forgetting that thesight of those two together had at first surprised me also, as well asmoved me. 'Or who else should be with him? He is her husband.'

  He stared at me for a moment at that, and then he turned slowly awayand began to go up; while I looked after him, gradually thinking out theclue to his conduct. Could it be that it was not mademoiselle attractedhim, but Madame de Bruhl?

  And with that hint I understood it all. I saw in a moment; theconclusion to which he had come on hearing of the presence of madamein my room. In my room at night! The change had dated from that time;instead of a careless, light-spirited youth he had become in a momenta morose and restive churl, as difficult to manage as an unbroken colt.Quite clearly I saw now the meaning of the change; why he had shrunkfrom me, and why all intercourse between us had been so difficult; andso constrained.

  I laughed to think how he had deceived himself, and how nearly I hadcome to deceiving myself also. And what more I might have thought Ido not know, for my meditations were cut short at this point by a loudoutcry below, which, beginning in one or two sharp cries of alarm andwarning, culminated quickly in a roar of anger and dismay.

  Fancying I recognised Maignan's voice, I ran down the stairs, seekinga loophole whence I could command the scene; but finding none, andbecoming more and more alarmed, I descended to the court, which Ifound, to my great surprise, as empty and silent as an old battle-field.Neither on the enemy's side nor on ours was a single man to be seen.With growing dismay I sprang across the court and darted through theouter tower, only to find that and the gateway equally unguarded. Norwas it until I had passed through the latter, and stood on the brow ofthe slope, which we had had to clamber with so much toil, that I learnedwhat was amiss.

  Far below me a string of men, bounding and running at speed, streameddown the hill towards the horses. Some were shouting, some runningsilently, with their elbows at their sides and their scabbards leapingagainst their calves. The horses stood tethered in a ring near the edgeof the wood, and by some oversight had been left unguarded. The foremostrunner I made out to be Fresnoy; but a number of his men were closeupon him, and then after an interval came Maignan, waving his blade andemitting frantic threats with every stride. Comprehending at oncethat Fresnoy and his following, rendered desperate by panic and theprospective loss of their horses, had taken advantage of my absence andgiven Maignan the slip, I saw I could do nothing save watch the resultof the struggle.

  This was not long delayed. Maignan's threats, which seemed to me merewaste of breath, were not without effect on those he followed. Thereis nothing which demoralises men like flight. Troopers who have stoodcharge after charge while victory was possible will fly like sheep, andlike sheep allow themselves to be butchered, when they have once turnedthe back. So it was here. Many of Fresnoy's men were stout fellows,but having started to run they had no stomach for fighting. Their fearscaused Maignan to appear near, while the horses seemed distant; and oneafter another they turned aside and made like rabbits for the wood.Only Fresnoy, who had taken care to have the start of all, kept on,and, reaching the horses, cut the rope which tethered the nearest, andvaulted nimbly on its back. Safely seated there, he tried to frightenthe others into breaking loose; but not succeeding at the first attempt,and seeing Maignan, breathing vengeance, coming up with him, he startedhis horse, a bright bay, and rode off laughing along the edge of thewood.

  Fully content with the result--for our carelessness might have costus very dearly--I was about to turn away when I saw that Maignan hadmounted and was preparing to follow. I stayed accordingly to see theend, and from my elevated position enjoyed a first-rate view of the racewhich ensued. Both were heavy weights, and at first Maignan gained noground. But when a couple of hundred yards had been covered Fresnoy hadthe ill-luck to blunder into some heavy ground, and this enabling hispursuer, who had time to avoid it, to get within two-score paces of him,the race became as exciting as I could wish. Slowly and surely Maignan,who had chosen the Cid, reduced the distance between them to a score ofpaces--to fifteen--to ten. Then Fresnoy, becoming alarmed, began to lookover his shoulder and ride in earnest. He had no whip, and I saw himraise his sheathed sword, and strike his beast on the flank. It sprangforward, and appeared for a few strides to be holding its own. Again herepeated the blow but this time with a different result. While his handwas still in the air, his horse stumbled, as it seemed to me, made adesperate effort to recover itself, fell headlong and rolled over andover.

  Something in the fashion of the fall, which reminded me of the mishap Ihad suffered on the way to Chize led me to look more particularly at thehorse as it rose trembling to its feet, and stood with drooping head.Sure enough, a careful glance enabled me, even at that distance, toidentify it as Matthew's bay--the trick-horse. Shading my eyes, andgazing on the scene with increased interest, I saw Maignan, who haddismounted, stoop over something on the ground, and again after aninterval stand upright.

  But Fresnoy did not rise. Nor was it without awe that, guessing what hadhappened to him, I remembered how he had used this very horse to befoolme; how heartlessly he had abandoned Matthew, its owner; and by whatmarvellous haps--which men call chances--Providence had brought it tothis place, and put it in his heart to choose it out of a score whichstood ready to his hand!

  I was right. The man's neck was broken. He was quite dead. Maignanpassed the word to one, and he to another, and so it reached me on thehill. It did not fail to awaken memories both grave and wholesome.I thought of St. Jean d'Angely, of Chize, of the house in the Ruelled'Arcy; then in the midst of these reflections I heard voices, andturned to find mademoiselle, with M. d'Agen behind me.

  Her hand was still bandaged, and her dress, which she had not changedsince leaving Blois, was torn and stained with mud. Her hair was indisorder; she walked with a limp. Fatigue and apprehension had stolenthe colour from her cheeks, and in a word she looked, when I turned, sowan and miserable that for a moment I feared the plague had seized her.

  The instant, however, that she caught sight of me a wave of colourinvaded, not her cheeks only, but her brow and neck. From her hairto the collar of her gown she was all crimson. For a second she stoodgazing at me, and then, as I saluted her, she sprang forward. Had I notstepped back she would have taken my hands.

  My heart so overflowed with joy at this sight, that in the certainty herblush gave me I was fain to toy with my happiness. All jealousy of M.d'Agen was forgotten; only I thought it well not to alarm her by tellingher what I knew of the Bruhls. 'Mademoiselle,' I said earnestly, bowing,but retreating from her, 'I thank God for your escape. One of yourenemies lies helpless here, and another is dead yonder.'

  'It is not of my enemies I am thinking,' she answered quickly, 'but ofGod, of whom you rightly remind me; and then of my friends.'

  'Nevertheless,' I answered as quickly, 'I beg you will not stay to thankthem now, but
go down to the wood with M. d'Agen, who will do all thatmay be possible to make you comfortable.'

  'And you, sir?' she said, with a charming air of confusion.

  'I must stay here,' I answered, 'for a while.'

  'Why?' she asked with a slight frown.

  I did not know how to tell her, and I began lamely. 'Someone must stopwith madame,' I said without thought.

  'Madame?' she exclaimed. 'Does she require assistance? I will stop.'

  'God forbid!' I cried.

  I do not know how she understood the words, but her face, which had beenfull of softness, grew hard. She moved quickly towards me; but, mindfulof the danger I carried about me, I drew farther back. 'No nearer,mademoiselle,' I murmured, 'if you please.'

  She looked puzzled, and finally angry, turning away with a sarcasticbow. 'So be it, then, sir,' she said proudly, 'if you desire it. M.d'Agen, if you are not afraid of me, will you lead me down?'

  I stood and watched them go down the hill, comforting myself with thereflection that to-morrow, or the next day, or within a few days atmost, all would be well. Scanning her figure as she moved, I fanciedthat she went with less spirit as the space increased between us. And Ipleased myself with the notion. A few days, a few hours, I thought, andall would be well. The sunset which blazed in the west was no more thana faint reflection of the glow which for a few minutes pervaded my mind,long accustomed to cold prospects and the chill of neglect.

  A term was put to these pleasant imaginings by the arrival of Maignan;who, panting from the ascent of the hill, informed me with a shamefacedair that the tale of horses was complete, but that four of our men weremissing, and had doubtless gone off with the fugitives. These provedto be M. d'Agen's two lackeys and the two varlets M. de Rambouillet hadlent us. There remained besides Simon Fleix only Maignan's three menfrom Rosny; but the state in which our affairs now stood enabled us tomake light of this. I informed the equerry--who visibly paled at thenews--that M. de Bruhl lay ill of the plague, and like to die; and Ibade him form a camp in the wood below, and, sending for food tothe house where we had slept the night before, make mademoiselle ascomfortable as circumstances permitted.

  He listened with surprise, and when I had done asked with concern what Iintended to do myself.

  'Someone must remain with Madam de Bruhl,' I answered. 'I have alreadybeen to the bedside to procure the key of mademoiselle's room, and I runno farther risk. All I ask is that you will remain in the neighbourhood,and furnish us with supplies should it be necessary.'

  He looked at me with emotion, which, strongly in conflict with his fearsas it was, touched me not a little. 'But morbleu! M. de Marsac,' hesaid, 'you will take the plague and die.'

  'If God wills,' I answered, very lugubriously I confess, for pale looksin one commonly so fearless could not but depress me. 'But if not, Ishall escape. Any way, my friend,' I continued, 'I owe you a quittance.Simon Fleix has an inkhorn and paper. Bid him bring them to this stoneand leave them, and I will write that Maignan, the equerry of the Baronde Rosny, served me to the end as a brave soldier and an honest friend.'What, MON AMI?' I continued, for I saw that he was overcome by this,which was, indeed, a happy thought of mine. 'Why not? It is true, andwill acquit you with the Baron. Do it, and go. Advise M. d'Agen, and beto him what you have been to me.'

  He swore two or three great oaths, such as men of his kind use to hidean excess of feeling, and after some further remonstrance went away tocarry out my orders; leaving me to stand on the brow in a strange kindof solitude, and watch horses and men withdraw to the wood, until thewhole valley seemed left to me and stillness and the grey evening. Fora time I stood in thought. Then reminding myself, for a fillip to myspirits, that I had been far more alone when I walked the streets of St.Jean friendless and threadbare (than I was now), I turned, and swingingmy scabbard against my boots for company, stumbled through the dark,silent courtyard, and mounted as cheerfully as I could to madame's room.

  To detail all that passed during the next five days would be tediousand in indifferent taste, seeing that I am writing this memoir for theperusal of men of honour; for though I consider the offices which thewhole can perform for the sick to be worthy of the attention of everyman, however well born, who proposes to see service, they seem to bemore honourable in the doing than the telling. One episode, however,which marked those days filled me then, as it does now, with the mostlively pleasure; and that was the unexpected devotion displayed by SimonFleix, who, coming to me, refused to leave, and showed himself at thispinch to be possessed of such sterling qualities that I freely forgavehim the deceit he had formerly practised on me. The fits of moodysilence into which he still fell at times and an occasional irascibilityseemed to show that he had not altogether conquered his insane fancy;but the mere fact that; he had come to me in a situation of hazard, andvoluntarily removed himself from mademoiselle's neighbourhood, gave megood hope for the future.

  M. de Bruhl died early on the morning of the second day, and Simon andI buried him at noon. He was a man of courage and address, lacking onlyprinciples. In spite of madame's grief and prostration, which were asgreat as though she had lost the best husband in the world, we removedbefore night to a separate camp in the woods; and left with the utmostrelief the grey ruin on the hill, in which, it seemed to me, we hadlived an age. In our new bivouac, where, game being abundant, and theweather warm, we lacked no comfort, except the society of our friends,we remained four days longer. On the fifth morning we met the others ofour company by appointment on the north road, and commenced the returnjourney.

  Thankful that we had escaped contagion, we nevertheless still proposedto observe for a time such precautions in regard to the others as seemednecessary; riding in the rear and having no communication with them,though they showed by signs the pleasure they felt at seeing us. Fromthe frequency with which mademoiselle turned and looked behind her,I judged she had overcome her pique at my strange conduct; which theothers should by this time have explained to her. Content, therefore,with the present, and full of confidence in the future, I rode along ina rare state of satisfaction; at one moment planning what I would do,and at another reviewing what I had done.

  The brightness and softness of the day, and the beauty of the woods,which in some places, I remember, were bursting into leaf, contributedmuch to establish me in this frame of mind. The hateful mist, whichhad so greatly depressed us, had disappeared; leaving the face of thecountry visible in all the brilliance of early spring. The men who rodebefore us, cheered by the happy omen, laughed and talked as they rode,or tried the paces of their horses, where the trees grew sparsely; andtheir jests and laughter coming pleasantly to our ears as we followed,warmed even madame's sad face to a semblance of happiness.

  I was riding along in this state of contentment when a feeling offatigue, which the distance we had come did not seem to justify, led meto spur the Cid into a brisker pace. The sensation of lassitude stillcontinued, however, and indeed grew worse; so that I wondered idlywhether I had over-eaten myself at my last meal. Then the thing passedfor awhile from my mind, which the descent of a steep hill sufficientlyoccupied.

  But a few minutes later, happening to turn in the saddle, I experienceda strange and sudden dizziness; so excessive as to force me to grasp thecantle, and cling to it, while trees and hills appeared to dance roundme. A quick, hot pain in the side followed, almost before I recoveredthe power of thought; and this increased so rapidly, and was from thefirst so definite, that, with a dreadful apprehension already formedin my mind, I thrust my hand inside my clothes, and found that swellingwhich is the most sure and deadly symptom of the plague.

  The horror of that moment--in which I saw all those things on thepossession of which I had just been congratulating myself, passhopelessly from me, leaving me in dreadful gloom--I will not attempt todescribe in this place. Let it suffice that the world lost in a momentits joyousness, the sunshine its warmth. The greenness and beauty roundme, which an instant before had filled me with pleasure, seemed on asudden
no more than a grim and cruel jest at my expense, and I an atomperishing unmarked and unnoticed. Yes, an atom, a mote; the bitternessof that feeling I well remember. Then, in no long time--being asoldier--I recovered my coolness, and, retaining the power to think,decided what it behoved me to do.