The Red Cockade

by Stanley John Weyman

  CHAPTER IX.

  THE TRICOLOUR.

  It was known afterwards that they fell upon the body and tore it, likethe dogs they were; but I had seen enough. I reeled back, and for afew moments leaned against the chimney, trembling like a woman, sickand faint. The horrid drama had had only one spectator--myself; andthe strange solitude from which I had viewed it, kneeling at the edgeof the roof of the Chateau, with the night wind on my brow and thetumult far below me, had shaken me to the bottom of my soul. Had theruffians come upon me then I could not have lifted a finger; but,fortunately, though the awakening came quickly, it came by anotherhand. I heard the rustle of feet behind me, and, turning, foundMademoiselle de St. Alais at my shoulder, her small face grey in thegloom.

  "Monsieur," she said, "will you come?"

  I sprang up, ashamed and conscience-stricken. I had forgotten her,all, in the tragedy. "What is it?" I said.

  "The house is burning."

  She said it so calmly, in such a voice, that I could not believe her,or that I understood; though it was the thing I had told myself musthappen. "What, Mademoiselle? This house?" I said stupidly.

  "Yes," she replied, as quietly as before. "The smoke is rising throughthe closet staircase. I think that they have set the east wing onfire."

  I hastened back with her, but before I reached the little door bywhich we had ascended I saw that it was true. A faint, whitish eddy ofsmoke, scarcely visible in the dusk, was rising through the crackbetween door and lintel. When we came up the women were still round itwatching it; but while I looked, dazed and wondering what we were todo, the group melted away, and Mademoiselle and I were left alonebeside the stream of smoke that grew each moment thicker and darker.

  A few moments before, immediately after my escape from the roomsbelow, I had thought that I could face this peril; anything,everything, had then seemed better than to be caught with the women,in the confinement of those luxurious rooms, perfumed with _poudre derose_, and heavy with jasmine--to be caught there by the brutes whowere pursuing us. Now the danger that showed itself most pressingseemed the worst. "We must take off the bricks!" I cried. "Quick, andopen that door! There is nothing else for it. Come, Mademoiselle, ifyou please!"

  "They are doing it," she answered.

  Then I saw whither the women and the servants had gone. They werealready beside the other door, the trap-door, labouring frantically toremove the bricks we had piled on it. In a moment I caught theinfection of their haste.

  "Come, Mademoiselle! come!" I cried, advancing involuntarily a steptowards the group. "Very likely the rogues below will be plunderingnow, and we may pass safely. At any rate, there is nothing else forit."

  I was still flurried and shaken--I say it with shame--by Gargouf'sfate; and when she did not answer at once, I looked round impatiently.To my astonishment, she was gone. In the darkness, it was not easy tosee any one at a distance of a dozen feet, and the reek of the smokewas spreading. Still, she had been at my elbow a moment before, shecould not be far off. I took a step this way and that, and lookedagain anxiously; and then I found her. She was kneeling against achimney, her face buried in her hands. Her hair covered her shoulders,and partly hid her white robe.

  I thought the time ill-chosen, and I touched her angrily."Mademoiselle!" I said. "There is not a moment to be lost! Come! theyhave opened the door!"

  She looked up at me, and the still pallor of her face sobered me. "Iam not coming," she said, in a low voice. "Farewell, Monsieur!"

  "You are not coming?" I cried.

  "No, Monsieur; save yourself," she answered firmly and quietly. Andshe looked up at me with her hands still clasped before her, as if shewere fain to return to her prayers, and waited only for me to go.

  I gasped.

  "But, Mademoiselle!" I cried, staring at the white-robed figure, thatin the gloom--a gloom riven now and again by hot flashes, as someburning spark soared upwards--seemed scarcely earthly--"But,Mademoiselle, you do not understand. This is no child's play. To stayhere is death! death! The house is burning under us. Presently theroof, on which we stand, will fall in, and then----"

  "Better that," she answered, raising her head with heaven knowswhat of womanly dignity, caught in this supreme moment by her, achild--"Better that, than that I should fall into their hands. I am aSt. Alais, and I can die," she continued firmly. "But I must not fallinto their hands. Do you, Monsieur, save yourself. Go now, and I willpray for you."

  "And I for you, Mademoiselle," I answered, with a full heart. "If youstay, I stay."

  She looked at me a moment, her face troubled. Then she rose slowly toher feet. The servants had disappeared, the trap-door lay open; no onehad yet come up. We had the roof to ourselves. I saw her shudder asshe looked round; and in a second I had her in my arms--she was noheavier than a child--and was half-way across the roof. She uttered afaint cry of remonstrance, of reproach, and for an instant struggledwith me. But I only held her the tighter, and ran on. From thetrap-door a ladder led downwards; somehow, still holding her with onehand, I stumbled down it, until I reached the foot, and found myselfin a passage, which was all dark. One way, however, a light shone atthe end of it.

  I carried her towards this, her hair lying across my lips, her faceagainst my breast. She no longer struggled, and in a moment I came tothe head of a staircase. It seemed to be a servant's staircase, for itwas bare, and mean, and narrow, with white-washed walls that were nottoo clean. There were no signs of fire here, even the smoke had notyet reached this part; but half-way down the flight a candle,overturned, but still burning, lay on a step, as if some one had thatmoment dropped it. And from all the lower part of the house came up agreat noise of riot and revelry, coarse shrieks, and shouts, andlaughter. I paused to listen.

  Mademoiselle lifted herself a little in my arms. "Put me down,Monsieur," she whispered.

  "You will come?"

  "I will do what you tell me."

  I set her down in the angle of the passage, at the head of the stairs;and in a whisper I asked her what was beyond the door, which I couldsee at the foot of the flight.

  "The kitchen," she answered.

  "If I had any cloak to cover you," I said, "I think that we couldpass. They are not searching for us. They are robbing and drinking."

  "Will you get the candle?" she whispered, trembling. "In one of theserooms we may find something."

  I went softly down the bare stairs, and, picking it up, returned withit in my hand. As I came back to her, our eyes met, and a slow blush,gradually deepening, crept over her face, as dawn creeps over a greysky. Having come, it stayed; her eyes fell, and she turned a littleaway from me, confused and frightened. We were alone; and for thefirst time that night, I think, she remembered her loosened hair andthe disorder of her dress--that she was a woman and I a man.

  It was a strange time to think of such things; when at any instant thedoor at the foot of the stairs before us might open, and a dozenruffians stream up, bent on plunder, and worse. But the look and themovement warmed my heart, and set my blood running as it had never runbefore. I felt my courage return in a flood, and with it twice mystrength. I felt capable of holding the staircase against a hundred, athousand, as long as she stood at the top. Above all, I wondered how Icould have borne her in my arms a minute before, how I could have heldher head against my breast, and felt her hair touch my lips, and beeninsensible! Never again should I carry her so with an even pulse. Theknowledge of that came to me as I stood beside her at the head of thebare stairs, affecting to listen to the noises below, that she mighthave time to recover herself.

  A moment, and I began to listen seriously; for the uproar in thekitchen through which we must pass to escape, was growing louder; andat the same time that I noticed this, a smell of burning wood, with awhiff of smoke, reached my nostrils, and warned me that the fire wasextending to the wing in which we stood. Behind us, as we stood,looking down the stairs, was a door; along the passage to the left bywhich we ha
d come were other doors. I thrust the candle intoMademoiselle's hands, and begged her to go and look in the rooms.

  "There may be a cloak, or something!" I said eagerly. "We must notlinger. If you will look, I will----"

  No more; for as the last word trembled on my lips the door at the footof the stairs flew open, and a man blundered through it and began toascend towards us, two steps at a time. He carried a candle beforehim, and a large bar in his right hand; and a savage roar of voicescame with him through the doorway.

  He appeared so suddenly that we had no time to move. I had a sideglimpse of Mademoiselle standing spell-bound with horror, the lightdrooping in her hand. Then I snatched the candle from her and quenchedit; and, plucking it from the iron candlestick, stood waiting, withthe latter in my hand--waiting, stooping forward, for the man. I hadleft my sword in the farther wing, and had no other weapon; but thestairs were narrow, the sloping ceiling low, and the candlestick mightdo. If his comrades did not follow him, it might do.

  He came up rapidly, two-thirds of the way, holding the light high infront of him. Only four or five steps divided him from us! Then on asudden, he stumbled, swore, and fell heavily forwards. The light inhis hand went out, and we were in darkness!

  Instinctively I gripped Mademoiselle's hand in my left hand to staythe scream that I knew was on her lips; then we stood like twostatues, scarcely daring to breathe. The man, so near us, and yetunconscious of our presence, got up swearing; and, after a terriblemoment of suspense, during which I think he fumbled for the candle, hebegan to clatter down the stairs again. They had closed the door atthe bottom, and he could not for a moment find the string of thelatch. But at last he found it, and opened the door. Then I steppedback, and under cover of the babel that instantly poured up thestaircase I drew Mademoiselle into the room behind us, and, closingthe door which faced the stairs, stood listening.

  I fancied that I could hear her heart beating. I could certainly hearmy own. In this room we seemed for the moment safe; but how were we,without a light, to find anything to disguise her? How were we to passthrough the kitchen? And in a moment I began to regret that I had leftthe stairs. We were in perfect darkness here and could see nothing inthe room, which had a close, unused smell, as of mice; but even as Inoticed this the fumes of burning wood, which had doubtless enteredwith us, grew stronger and overcame the other smell. The rushingwind-like sound of the fire, as it caught hold of the wing, began tobe audible, and the distant crackling of flames. My heart sank.

  "Mademoiselle," I said softly. I still held her hand.

  "Yes, Monsieur," she murmured faintly. And she seemed to lean againstme.

  "Are there no windows in this room?"

  "I think that they are shuttered," she murmured.

  With a new thought in my mind, that the way of the kitchen beinghopeless we might escape by the windows, I moved a pace to look forthem. I would have loosed her hand to do this, that my own might befree to grope before me, but to my surprise she clung to me and wouldnot let me go. Then in the darkness I heard her sigh, as if she wereabout to swoon; and she fell against me.

  "Courage, Mademoiselle, courage!" I said, terrified by the merethought.

  "Oh, I am frightened!" she moaned in my ear. "I am frightened! Saveme, Monsieur, save me!"

  She had been so brave before that I wondered; not knowing that thebravest woman's courage is of this quality. But I had short time forwonder. Her weight hung each instant more dead in my arms, and myheart beating wildly as I held her I looked round for help, for athought, for an idea. But all was dark. I could not remember evenwhere the door stood by which we had entered. I peered in vain, forthe slightest glimmer of light that might betray the windows. I wasalone with her and helpless, our way of retreat cut off, the flamesapproaching. I felt her head fall back and knew that she had swooned;and in the dark I could do no more than support her, and listen andlisten for the returning steps of the man, or what else would happennext.

  For a long time, a long time it seemed to me, nothing happened. Then asudden burst of sound told me that the door at the foot of the stairshad been opened again; and on that followed a clatter of wooden shoeson the bare stairs. I could judge now where the door of the room was,and I quickly but tenderly laid Mademoiselle on the floor a littlebehind it, and waited myself on the threshold. I still had mycandlestick, and I was desperate.

  I heard them pass, my heart beating; and then I heard them pause and Iclutched my weapon; and then a voice I knew gave an order, and with acry of joy I dragged open the door of the room and stood beforethem--stood before them, as they told me afterwards, with the face ofa ghost or a man risen from the dead.

  There were four of them, and the nearest to us was Father Benoit.

  The good priest fell on my neck and kissed me. "You are not hurt?" hecried.

  "No," I said dully. "You have come then?"

  "Yes," he said. "In time to save you, God be praised! God be praised!And Mademoiselle? Mademoiselle de St. Alais?" he added eagerly,looking at me as if he thought I was not quite in my senses. "Have younews of her?"

  I turned without a word, and went back into the room. He followedwith a light, and the three men, of whom Buton was one, pressed inafter him. They were rough peasants, but the sight made them giveback, and uncover themselves. Mademoiselle lay where I had left her,her head pillowed on a dark carpet of hair; from the midst of whichher child's face, composed and white as in death, looked up withsolemn half-closed eyes to the ceiling. For myself, I stared down ather almost without emotion, so much had I gone through. But the priestcried out aloud.

  "_Mon Dieu!_" he said, with a sob in his voice. "Have they killedher?"

  "No," I answered. "She has only fainted. If there is a woman here----"

  "There is no woman here that I dare trust," he answered between histeeth. And he bade one of the men go and get some water, adding a fewwords which I did not hear.

  The man returned almost immediately, and Father Benoit, bidding himand his fellows stand back a little, moistened her lips with water,afterwards dashing some in her face; doing it with an air of hastethat puzzled me until I noticed that the room was grown thick withsmoke, and on going myself to the door saw the red glow of the fire atthe end of the passage, and heard the distant crash of falling stonesand timbers. Then I thought that I understood the men's attitude, andI suggested to Father Benoit that I should carry her out.

  "She will never recover here," I said, with a sob in my throat. "Shewill be suffocated if we do not get her into the air."

  A thick volume of smoke swept along the passage as I spoke, and gavepoint to my words.

  "Yes," the priest said slowly, "I think so, too, my son, but----"

  "But what?" I cried. "It is not safe to stay!"

  "You sent to Cahors?"

  "Yes," I answered. "Has M. le Marquis come?"

  "No; and you see, M. le Vicomte, I have only these four men," heexplained. "Had I stayed to gather more I might have been too late.And with these only I do not know what to do. Half the poor wretcheswho have done this mischief are mad with drink. Others are strangers,and----"

  "But I thought--I thought that it was all over," I cried inastonishment.

  "No," he answered gravely. "They let us pass in after an altercation;I am of the Committee, and so is Buton there. But when they see you,and especially Mademoiselle de St. Alais--I do not know how they mayact, my friend."

  "But, _mon Dieu!_" I cried. "Surely they will not dare----"

  "No, Monseigneur, have no fear, they shall not dare!"

  The words came out of the smoke. The speaker was Buton. As he spoke,he stepped forward, swinging the ponderous bar he carried, his hugehairy arms bare to the elbow. "Yet there is one thing you must do," hesaid.

  "What?"

  "You must put on the tricolour. They will not dare to touch that."

  He spoke with a simple pride, which at the moment I foundunintelligible. I understand it better now. Nay, on the morrow, it wasno riddle to me, though an abiding wond
er.

  The priest sprang at the idea. "Good," he said. "Buton has hit it!They will respect that."

  And before I could speak he had detached the large rosette which hewore on his _soutane_, and was pinning it on my breast.

  "Now yours, Buton," he continued; and taking the smith's--it was nottoo clean--he fixed it on Mademoiselle's left shoulder. "There," hesaid eagerly, when it was done. "Now, M. le Vicomte, take her up.Quick, or we shall be stifled. Buton and I will go before you, and ourfriends here will follow you."

  Mademoiselle was beginning to come to herself with sighs and sobs,when I raised her in my arms; and we were all coughing with the smoke.This in the passage outside was choking; had we delayed a minutelonger we could not have passed out safely, for already the flameswere beginning to lick the door of the next room, and dart out angrytongues towards us. As it was, we stumbled down the stairs in somefashion, one helping another; and checked for an instant by the closeddoor at the bottom, were glad to fall when it was opened pell-mell inthe kitchen, where we stood with smarting eyes, gasping for breath.

  It was the grand kitchen of the Chateau that had seen many a feastprepared, and many a quarry brought home; but for Mademoiselle's sakeI was glad that her face was against my breast, and that she could notsee it now. A great fire, fed high with fat and hams, blazed on thehearth, and before it, instead of meat, the carcases of three dogshung from the jack, and tainted the air with the smell of burningflesh. They were M. le Marquis' favourite hounds, killed in purewantonness. Below them the floor, strewn with bottles, ran deep inwasted wine, out of which piles of shattered furniture and stavedcasks rose like islands. All that the rioters had not taken they hadspoiled; even now in one corner a woman was filling her apron withsalt from a huge trampled heap, and at the battered _dressoir_ threeor four men were plundering. The main body of the peasants, however,had retired outside, where they could be heard fiercely cheering onthe flames, shouting when a chimney fell or a window burst, andflinging into the fire every living thing unlucky enough to fall intotheir hands. The plunderers, on seeing us, sneaked out with grim lookslike wolves driven from the prey. Doubtless, they spread the news; forwhile we paused, though it was only for a moment, in the middle of thefloor, the uproar outside ceased, and gave place to a strange silencein the midst of which we appeared at the door.

  The glare of the burning house threw a light as strong as that of dayon the scene before us; on the line of savage frenzied faces thatconfronted us, and the great pile of wreckage that stood about andbore witness to their fury. But for a moment the light failed to showus to them; we were in the shadow of the wall, and it was not until wehad advanced some paces that the ominous silence was broken, and themob, with a howl of rage, sprang forward, like bloodhounds slippedfrom the leash. Low-browed and shock-headed, half-naked, and blackwith smoke and blood, they seemed more like beasts than men; and likebeasts they came on, snapping the teeth and snarling, while from therear--for the foremost were past speech--came screams of "_Mort auxTyrans! Mort aux Accapareurs!_" that, mingling with the tumult of thefire, were enough to scare the stoutest.

  Had my escort blenched for an instant our fate was sealed. But theystood firm, and before their stern front all but one man quailed andfell back--fell back snarling and crying for our blood. That one cameon, and aimed a blow at me with a knife. On the instant Buton raisedhis iron bar, and with a stentorian cry of "Respect the Tricolour!"struck him to the ground, and strode over him.

  "Respect the Tricolour!" he shouted again, with the voice of a bull;and the effect of the words was magical. The crowd heard, fell back,and fell aside, staring stupidly at me and my burden.

  "Respect the Tricolour!" Father Benoit cried, raising his hand aloft;and he made the sign of the cross. On that in an instant a hundredvoices took it up; and almost before I could apprehend the change,those who a moment earlier had been gaping for our blood werethrusting one another back, and shouting as with one voice, "Way, wayfor the Tricolour!"

  There was something unutterably new, strange, formidable in thisreverence; this respect paid by these savages to a word, a ribbon, anidea. It made an impression on me that was never quite effaced. But atthe moment I was scarcely conscious of this. I heard and saw thingsdully. Like a man in a dream, I walked through the crowd, and,stumbling under my burden, passed down the lane of brutish faces, downthe avenue, down to the gate. There Father Benoit would have takenMademoiselle from me, but I would not let him.

  "To Saux! To Saux!" I said feverishly; and then, I scarcely knew how,I found myself on a horse holding her before me. And we were on theroad to Saux, lighted on our way by the flames of the burning Chateau.