The Maid of Honour: A Tale of the Dark Days of France. Vol. 3 (of 3)

by Lewis Wingfield

  CHAPTER XXVIII.

  THE BARON IS ENERGETIC.

  The wonder of the timorous inmates of Montbazon knew no bounds whenthey beheld Boulot--once gamekeeper, now formidable and obnoxiousdeputy of Blois--careering into their courtyard with a fainting womanin his arms; and astonishment was merged in dismay when Madame de Vauxrecognzied the Marquise de Gange, who had been stricken down,according to report, by a virulent and malignant malady.

  Since, for some time past, the Seigneurie by common consent had dweltin a condition of siege, it was only owing to the lucky circumstanceof its being Angelique's fete-day that Jean found the gate unguarded.

  Things having quieted down somewhat--though not for long, as theSeigneurie knew too well, for public opinion was ever on the ebb andflow of mischief--it occurred to old De Vaux that this was thepropitious moment to go a hunting. It was on the cards that the noblepastime of the chase might be stopped altogether shortly, and so heseized the opportunity to give a little party in his daughter'shonour. Was it not unfeeling, then, to the last degree, that aneighbour who was not invited because she was infectious, shouldchoose this precise moment for a morning call? The gentlemen wereaway, the ladies were sipping tea, _a l'Anglaise_, and munchingbiscuits, discussing the while the all-important topic of dress. Ofcourse they would not demean themselves by donning the ridiculousgarments of the Republic. The queen, poor martyr, was sitting insackcloth and ashes while quaffing the cup of bitterness, and itbehoved faithful subjects to don mourning. But then money was sodreadfully tight, and nobody had any mourning; and, besides, thetruculent and abominable upstarts who ruled the roast might takeumbrage at such eccentricity and be disagreeable; and when everyone'stenure of property and even life, was so precarious, it was as well towear coats that would turn.

  This proposition had been put and unanimously carried, and everyonewas getting on as nicely as possible, when, all of a sudden, killjoy,Jean Boulot, dropped from the clouds with his unconscious andfever-stricken burthen.

  Too anxious, and too full of contempt for the company to be polite, hestrode sternly into the salon, and gently laying the marquise on thesofa, took summary possession of the teapot, while the frightenedladies stared.

  "There is charcoal, no doubt, in the kitchen," he said, quietly, "sendfor some, please, directly."

  Charcoal? Was the man crazy? Infectious, too, perhaps. How shocking!But it was not politic to offend one of the rising stars. Madame deVaux rang the bell for charcoal, and waited for an explanation.

  Jean ground a piece of it with a poker, on the hearth, and dribbledthe powder into the tea-pot. What devil's broth was he brewing? Theman must be very mad. If the gentlemen would only return. Havingsatisfied himself with regard to the decoction, the deputy, instead ofinsisting that the baroness should drink it, carefully poured a fewdrops down the throat of the marquise, and presently she sighed deeplyand opened her weary eyes.

  "She is saved!" he cried with satisfaction. "Now, ladies, if you canthink of anyone except yourselves, complete the work. Ply her withdraughts of this, and see that she does not sleep. She has beenpoisoned by two miscreants; but God has protected the innocent againsttheir villainy."

  "Poisoned!" exclaimed Angelique, interested; "we were told it was afever."

  "Villains who murder innocent women can also lie," retorted Jean inscorn. "This lady, I tell you, after undergoing endless outrage attheir hands, which is noted above in detail, has been cruelly poisonedby the two half-brothers of her husband. Providence, in itsinscrutable wisdom, has chosen me as the humble instrument ofrescue--and also of revenge. As there are stars above us, thosewretches shall be terribly punished. I go now to execute theirsentence."

  The habit of leading others had made another man of Jean. He spokesimply, but with a stern native dignity that enforced respect. Theladies looked with awe on his tall retreating figure, about whichthere were none of the petty airs of courtliness, and never for amoment doubted that he spoke the truth.

  This poor, pitiful, dishevelled heap of soiled clothing was notinfectious. The Marquise de Gange had been singled out as victim of anappalling tragedy, which, had it been consummated, would have set thewhole province aflame with fury. What was he about to do, thisformidable deputy? Pray Heaven he would not raise such a tornado abouttheir ears as would bring ruin on an entire class. Given that many ofthe class had sinned grievously and often, that was no reason forconfounding the guiltless with the guilty. The peasantry were socrassly ignorant and so oafishly benighted--so ready in these days tobelieve the worst--that they might choose to look on old De Vaux as anaccomplice of the Lorge people, and wreak vengeance on him and his. Ithad not been his business to interfere in the private affairs of otherpersons, and had, moreover, been deliberately misinformed.

  His wife, as she turned it all over, grew very much alarmed and gavevent to shrillest jeremiads. What a stroke of ill-luck it was that thebaron should have chosen this especial morning to sally forth on afool's errand, leaving his family to be fooled by fickle Fortune! Thebaroness felt convinced that there was something dreadful imminent,and there was not a single male upon the premises. Even the totteringold domestics had gone forth to act as _piqueurs_. If the gentlemenwould only return and settle what was to be done; but if they met withsuccess in sport they would not be back till nightfall. Meanwhile, itwas evident that the orders of the obnoxious Jean must be obeyed, andthat the ladies must succour the marquise.

  Hark! What was that? Voices in altercation in the passage, and ascreaming of terror-stricken maids.

  Hatless, with dress disordered and wild mien, Pharamond and Phebusdashed into the room.

  "Where is our darling Gabrielle?" the former cried in agitation,undisguised. "Poor soul! Poor suffering angel! She has gone mad;escaped raging through a window, distraught by the delirium of fever."

  Madame de Vaux was speechless from fright. The abbe whom she had beenaccustomed to see all smiles and compliments, wore the aspect of somemalignant demon, as he eagerly scanned the company. His lips werebloodless, his pale face convulsed, while his brother mechanicallyfollowed his lead, like one under influence of Mesmer.

  Angelique, who was bending with solicitude over Gabrielle, turned onthe pair, no whit afraid. "The Marquise de Gange," she said, "has beencommitted to our custody, and for the present will remain under ourcare."

  "Not so, not so!" replied the abbe, in vehement haste, "We willbear her home to the chateau. It would be unseemly to permit oursorely-stricken relative to be looked on by the curiosity ofstrangers. The poor soul raves, suffers from distracting delusions.You can see for yourselves that she is mad."

  "Mad or sane," returned Angelique, bluntly, "here the marquise staysuntil my father and the gentlemen return. She is exhausted and unfitto travel."

  Prudence! It would not do to offer too obstinate a resistance. Timemust be gained by parley that the potion might do its work. Resumingwith an effort something of his other self, the abbe bowed and bit hislip and scrutinized the patient.

  Why, what was this? The victim exhibited none of the symptoms thatwere to be expected. Yet the poison must have circulated long ago.Surrounded by ministering women, Gabrielle had recoveredconsciousness, and lay, clinging for protection to Angelique, gazingwith dread upon her butcher. Inert and numb, her limbs, halfparalysed, were moved with difficulty; but it was plain that theintellect was clear. Ere now, she should have been foaming in frenzy,or, that phase past, be plunged in the stertorous slumber from whichshe would wake no more.

  Intelligence shone from the haggard eyes of the victim. Had Providenceworked a miracle on her behalf? Was she to escape him after all? Avapour as of blood swam before the sight of Pharamond and drenched hisbrain. With a fierce curse he drew a pistol from his breast, The womenshrieked and implored mercy. Angelique, who was nearest to him struckthe weapon up and the bullet lodged in the ceiling. In a whirl offrantic unreason he unsheathed his sword, and reckless now ofconsequences to himself, battled towards the ma
rquise through thegroup of cowering women. There was that about him which suggested thered-eyed rat at bay that springs at the throat of his tormentor,inflicts what harm he can before he is crushed himself. Pharamond knewhe was undone, and cared not, provided he might hack and slash thattender body which never might be his. The brave Angelique closed withhim, and her fingers were cut to the bone in the effort to wrest awaythe sword. At the sight of her daughter bleeding, her aged mother sentup a scream and attacked the abbe with her nails.

  A hubbub in the courtyard--a clatter of many hoofs--a confused babbleof voices. The hunters had returned in haste, for a rumour wasspeeding with swift wings, bearing over the land the fiery cross ofvengeance--shouting of a tragedy at Lorge, which concerned the WhiteChatelaine.

  A woman's scream of agony--here at quiet Montbazon! What could havehappened. M. de Vaux staggered, and dreading he knew not what, madefor the salon as fast as his old legs would carry him, while a posseof country gentlemen remained on their horses irresolute. But not forlong. Two frantic men with hair untied and streaming, and bloodyswords in their hands, dashed from the salon window and endeavoured toescape out of the gate. Though it was hopeless to struggle againstoverwhelming numbers, they fought with clenched teeth the fight ofdesperation, but speedily found themselves disarmed, tied roughly backto back.

  "Grand Dieu! It must be true then!" exclaimed a booby round-eyedsquire, for here was the suave and polished churchman by whosecondescensions he had been wont to be flattered, torn by the passionsof the beast, soiled with dirt and blood.

  The game was up--no doubt of it--but the abbe was not one to bow underadverse fate and play the penitent. How to explain away an onslaughtupon women. The situation was awkward, but might even yet be brazenedout, if the devil would only help, since, while there is life there ishope.

  "She is mad--quite mad--poor suffering soul," he mechanicallymurmured; "we came to take her home."

  Danger past, Madame de Vaux did what many a worthy dame has donebefore. She sank on a seat and fainted, while Angelique rapidlyrelated the tragical details of the last half-hour.

  The baron's brow grew cloudy as he listened. A terrible scandal this,such as in more halcyon days would have caused a violent commotion,but which at a critical moment like the present might start anoverwhelming conflagration.

  The hunting party had come upon a howling mob armed with such bucolicweapons as were handy, running along the road with incoherent threats.One who lagged behind was stopped, and being questioned, declared thathe knew not what had chanced, but stout Jean Boulot was back again andfurious, and that was enough for him. Under the circumstances it wasprudent to return to Montbazon and resume the state of siege.

  M. de Vaux was a gentleman to the backbone, if not endowed with wits,and could in a moment of peril prove as calmly firm and quietlyundaunted as the procession of Parisian nobles who were wearing outwith steady and unflinching footfall the steps of the guillotine. Herecognized the gravity of his position, but accepted it without amurmur, for it never should be said that the last baron of the houseof de Vaux had blenched in face of duty. The Marquis de Gange andhis villainous brothers had happily been baulked in an attemptedcrime--that the absent marquis was less guilty than the rest he wasnot prepared to believe; and if he, the baron, could help it, theyshould not escape their punishment.

  It was unlucky for him and his that the scene should have beentransferred to his own tranquil hearth, for no good would accrue tothe inhabitants of Montbazon by the sheltering of unsavoury company.Two of the peccant brothers were here, and here they should remain,_advienne que pourra_, until their unwilling host could hand them tothe myrmidons of justice. If it could be prevented, there should be nolynch law at Montbazon. The miscreants had earned their doom, which,doubtless would be breaking on the wheel; and yet, who could tell whatwould be the lot of persons who were reckoned amongst the gangrened,and who were guilty of such heinous sin?

  The mob would learn ere long the facts of the case, and their furywould not be lessened by the discovery that the one member of thehated class whom they all revered for her goodness had been chosen asthe intended victim.

  There would be a rush to Lorge, which would be found to be an open andempty cage, and after that there would be a scouring of the country inall directions in search of the dastardly criminals. They would befound here at Montbazon; there was no help for it, and the lord ofMontbazon would loyally do his best to protect them from mob violence.But Montbazon was not a strong fortress like Lorge, which could affordto smile grimly down on a crowd of excited pigmies. The gates must beclosed, and if the mob did come he would explain his just intentions,parley with and endeavour to persuade them.

  Cheerfully determined to obey orders, the young men of the hunt wereclosing the gates when a horseman dashed in at a gallop, and theexhausted beast sank panting on the stones. M. de Vaux looked up andsighed, and again commanded that the doors should be closed andlocked.

  Here was the missing scoundrel, the marquis himself, as agitated asthe other two. Verily the will of Heaven was startlingly clear, forthe missing culprit had, of his own free will, delivered himself intothe net.

  The eyes of Clovis fell on a group in the angle of the courtyard, and,blushing, he hung his head. His brothers, unkempt and bound, none thebetter for rough usage, tied back to back like common malefactors,while a young seigneur whom all three knew well was mounting guard onthem.

  "M. de Vaux," he stammered, "things look black, I know, but I imploreyou not to condemn me in your mind unheard. I swear to you that I didnot know of this. I was coming home from an absence due to business,and was as horrified as you could be when I was informed of theterrible story."

  "You will all three be broken on the wheel," was the pithy answer ofthe baron.

  The chevalier, with chin sunk upon his breast, saw and heard nothing;his weak brain was in a daze. But the abbe glanced quickly at themarquis and smiled with profound disdain. He had always felt for hiselder brother a contempt so deep that it approached near to loathing.Worldly prudence alone had cloaked his feelings, for he knew him to beof the mean sort that, too feeble for independent action, will, whileprating virtue, glibly accept the fruit of another's wickedness, ordenounce him in case of failure. The aspect of this sorry apologeticcraven acted on the abbe's nerves like a dash of refreshing spray. Theold gleam glittered for a moment from under half-closed lids. He shookhimself, raised his head proudly, and pointing a finger at Clovis,harshly laughed aloud--

  "Remember that, unluckily, we are related," he sneered; "and spare methis humiliating spectacle. We have all three played our game andlost, and must pay the stakes with resignation."

  "I assure you, Monsieur le Baron, that he lies malignantly," thehapless Clovis began; but his words died away in confusion, for hisflesh quivered under the abbe's words and scathing looks as under awhip.

  "Believe him not," scoffed Pharamond. "We are guilty of lamentablefailure, for which I am honestly ashamed, due in part to thepusillanimity of yonder cur; and failure, as we all know, is the onesin that never may hope for pardon. He knew perfectly well theintended programme, and having given his tacit consent was despatchedon a mission, which he apparently has bungled, that we might not behampered by his cowardice. We failed, as better and stronger men havefailed, and I am sorry for the mistake. It would have been shorter andsafer to have made away with him as well as his puling wife. Speak,chevalier--you are a drunken sot, but not a craven--is not this thetruth?"

  Urged by the sharp elbow of his brother, lustily applied, Phebusraised his head and looked dreamily around; then saying simply "Yes;what you say is truth," relapsed into stupid reverie.

  The abbe was growing lively, for now, thanks to Clovis's ineptitude,he no longer played the ridiculous role. The marquis hoped towhitewash himself by steady lying at the expense of his more brilliantconfederate. That should never be. None but a fool would have deemedsuch a _denouement_ possible. But for the advent of the new-comer,Pharamond might have stuck to his guns, and ha
ve adroitly wriggled outof the meshes of the law, delightfully pure and unsullied, though fora moment stained by calumny; for though the marquise had for someunaccountable reason recovered, there was nothing but her word for theabsurd story of the goblet, sword, and pistol. Even had she died notrace of the herb would have been found. Mademoiselle Brunelle and theservants of the chateau would with one accord have sworn--as theyaspired to an edifying end and a cosy seat in Heaven--that madame hadsuffered from a serious complaint, accompanied by delirioushallucination. That she was better now was in the nature of things,due partly to tenderest solicitude on the part of her affectionatefamily, and an additional proof, if any still were wanting, that thestory of the poison was a dream. But Clovis, by his own dastardly andexecrable meanness, had cut the ground from under the feet of thesuspected trio; for the abbe had been goaded for once to forgethimself and his own interests in order, with a pretty display ofscornful protest, to inflict revenge upon another. In sober truth, theabbe felt outraged in his best feelings by the move of Clovis.

  Pharamond had confessed with easy nonchalance to an attempt ofsuperior wickedness, and was rather flattered than otherwise by thesilent horror depicted on the bovine countenances of the Seigneurie.They appeared to gaze, face to face, on the Satanic one, and wereabashed by his unexpected propinquity.

  It was time the painful scene should end, for nothing could come of itbut unworthy recrimination. Two had freely and publicly confessed, thethird stood cowering like a beaten hound that dares not even whine. Inevery curved line of his bent figure there was confession.

  The baron observed gravely to the company assembled, "We areresponsible, gentlemen, for the guarding of these persons, till theycan be safely removed to Blois. For the present, if you please, wewill lock them in the dining-hall, as the strongest and safest room."

  "By all means," exclaimed the abbe, heartily, "and I hope there willbe something on the board. The good baron was always hospitable. Owingto press of _business_, hem! I had no time for breakfast, and vow I amplaguy hungry."

  It was a day of ill-luck and penance for our esteemed churchman, forno single wish of his was to be gratified, even in so small a matteras a meal. The three brothers were pushed with scant ceremony into theone imposing chamber of the chateau, whose walls were tolerably thickand windows placed too high for escape to be possible, and there theywere left, gruesomely to contemplate one another, uncomely spectacleenough, for in truth, they looked like boon companions, whose nighthad been spent in orgies. The abbe was so blythe in the knowledge thathis fate was sealed, and that he had in his recklessness given himselfas it were with his own foot, the final kick out of the world, that heoverflowed with amiability.

  To behold Clovis, the selfish and heartless, the superficiallyplausible scientific humbug, sobbing like a woman, with tearsshowering through dirty fingers, was a joy and a triumph, for whatevermight befall the abbe though only a half brother with no prospect ofever blossoming into a full-blown marquis, he never, no, never, underany stress whatever, could fall so low as this grovelling male Niobe,who had been privileged by Destiny to wear the glittering thing calledcoronet. Not that that particular covering was in vogue as afashionable hat just now, but the absurd era of topsyturvydom, wouldno doubt be smothered shortly by somebody with an uncompromising willand iron fist, and the saturnalia of plebeian folly be suppressed.Then coronets would rise in the market again, and this gibbering thingwould come strutting back from exile--a worm on end--with otheremigrants, to enjoy again the sweets of life. He would be free andrich, while his brothers bore the brunt. He would possibly speak nowand again with reticence of his unfortunately shady familyconnections, who had tried to commit murder in his absence, and swearwith seraphic gaze fixed upon aether, that he was well quit of suchsurroundings. Ah! It was a satisfaction to think that a sturdy spokehad been placed in the wheel of the heaven-bound chariot, which hadbrought it down to earth with a thump, as helpless as a hamstrunghorse. If the half-brothers were to bear the burthen of theirmisdeeds, so should the elder one. He should not escape scot-free."If," swore the abbe to himself, "we are to be broken on the wheel, asde Vaux so genially suggests, the only boon I will crave shall be thatClovis the coward shall suffer first, and that I may be present as eyewitness." Such being his somewhat decided views with regard to thehead of the family, it was rather odd that he should be so agreeableand frolicsome and, metaphorically, skip around his brother.

  After a while, the contemplation of the weeping Clovis and the dazedPhebus became irksome, and there being no signs of prospectivebreakfast, Pharamond turned his attention to another matter.

  "Tell me," he demanded of a sudden, "why did you delay at Blois solong, and what brought you so quickly home?"

  "The testament was useless," answered Clovis, sulkily. "While we wereyet in Paris, she saw through your plans and took measures to renderthem abortive. Such plans! We are undone--I, too--through yourpresuming and insensate folly."

  "She did!" exclaimed Pharamond, clasping his hands in admiration.

  "She solemnly declared that she knew her life to be in peril--that ifever she made another will, it would be under compulsion, and arrangedfor some private mark to show that this was so. Justice was put on thealert, and I came back in hottest haste to stop your action, butarrived, alas! too late."

  "She did that? the crafty, cunning baby-face!" cried Pharamond.

  "I ought to have known," growled Clovis, with rueful self-reproach,"that reserved baby-faced women are always cunning. But I trustedso much in you as to allow myself to be persuaded, and now I amundone--undone!"

  In spite of his discomfiture, the artistic instinct of the abbe couldnot but keenly appreciate the still long-suffering woman who hadbraved and circumvented him. And they had all been stupid enough tolook upon her as a foe unworthy of their steel. That they should havedone so was due to one of the many errors in judgment of theabominable Algae. Well, well--she was a wondrous creature, as well asa beautiful. Gifted with second sight, had she been able to foreseewhat precise poison he would employ and provide herself with anantidote? Hardly. Therein lay a mystery.

  Meanwhile, conjectures fill no stomachs, and nature was beginning toassert herself aggressively. It was brutal of the baron to starve hiscage-birds. To play with his brother, or to snarl and gird at him wasmighty well as a pastime, but it grew more than annoying that, afterthe hints that had been thrown out, the baron should be sodisgustingly inhospitable.

  By dint of straining and muscular artfulness, the two, who had beenunwillingly made one with ropes, managed to escape from their bonds;and the abbe persuasively arguing through the keyhole, endeavoured tocoax the guardian marching without to discuss the question of food. Itwas barbarous to lock three men in a room and leave them to starve,specially when it had been pointed out that there had been no timethat morning to partake of even the lightest refection. Is not_dejeuner_ the most important meal in France--now as in the past; andis it not deliberately fiendish to place famishing humanity in adining-hall without the necessary and expected adjuncts? It hadnothing to do with the case that the engrossing _business_ which hadengrossed the early hours had been to supply a lady with a specialbreakfast for which she had no appetite. At any rate, she had beenprovided with a breakfast of a sort, and that she didn't like it wasbeside the question, for is it not well known that capricious ladiesaffect to live on butterfly wings and flower nectar--rare victualsthat cannot always be supplied--while here were three ravenous men whohad gone through much emotion and were proportionately empty, and whowould be content--nay, grateful--for a commonplace, vulgar,substantial pate and a bottle of sound Burgundy. Thus the sportiveabbe through the keyhole, whose sallies received no response.

  By and by the monotonous tramp in the stone passage ceased; hastyfootsteps hurried away--there were muffled cries and exclamations,followed by--it could be nothing else--a volley of musketry. There wassomething going forward, then, that was serious. The abbes humourchanged from banter to gloomy wrath, and a sensation came over
himakin to that which Gabrielle had experienced in her bedchamber. Hewould not die--no--he would live! But how? He ground his teeth andgnawed his fingers with a baffled sense of degrading helplessness.Here was he, an unappreciated genius, whose wits were as nimble asever, who was prepared to start off at a tangent on any project whichpromised to bring grist to his mill, incarcerated in a place intendedfor festivity, from which there was no outlet, and in which could befound no crust of bread or glass of water. The windows wereinaccessible, the oaken door locked without. But the sentry waswithdrawn, which was something; and three men, strong and young,should shame to lie down content to wallow in the mud and groan.Something of a serious and important nature was going on outside, ascould be judged by the noise. If the door could be forced in theconfusion, the muffled sounds of which were evident to acute ears,what should prevent successful evasion even at this eleventh hour?Clovis was strongly built, the thews and broad shoulders of Phebus hadofttimes been a subject for sport--and there the two sat like waxeneffigies, both refusing to be roused. In his exasperation Pharamondseized Phebus by the shoulders and shook him like a sack, but thelatter merely opened his watery eyes for a moment and then blinkedthem to again like one who has done with daylight. As for Clovis, thegorge of his brother rose, and he exhaled himself in ingenious curses.If there was a hell, to which both were bound, a large item of hispunishment would consist in his brother's presence as a neighbour.

  Oh! It was too bad--too bad! There was some commotion going onoutside--a rush of feet, a shouting, a calling out of names--somethingor another that occupied the entire attention of the garrison. Thethree of them, if they would exert united strength, could, with aportion of yonder massive dining-table, easily force the door, sincethe hubbub outside was sufficient to distract attention from any noisewithin. The door forced, they could lose themselves in the crowd. Thesmiling world would be open. Life--precious life--would commenceagain. And there the two idiots crouched--the one in a daze, the otherdrowned in unavailing grief--while the golden moments dripped. Atthought of what ought to be, and that which loomed as more likely toobtain, Pharamond was devoured by an access of the old frenzy, whichearlier in the day had toppled over reason, and tore in idle impotenceat the ponderous table with his delicate white hands till the bloodgushed from beneath the nails and his lips were white with foam.

  CHAPTER XXIX.

  NOBLESSE OBLIGE.

  The baron's apprehensions were soon justified. Having placed hisprisoners under lock and key, he hastily assembled the gentlemen in acouncil of war, explaining his fears and difficulties. The peasantrywould, of course, be wild with indignation, and, all thingsconsidered, there was plenty of excuse for excess. It was as thoughsome one had deliberately flung a lighted fuse into an open barrel ofgunpowder. Montbazon could not withstand a serious assault, for itconsisted of an agglomeration of clustering rooms, chiefly built ofwood and plaster around a small stone pleasure house in the centre. Ofcourse, there was a courtyard with imposing gates, necessary adjunctsto the dignity of a dwelling that called itself a chateau, but, insooth, the walls were thin and tottery--more suitable for the supportof pear trees _en espalier_ than for withstanding an armed attack.Duty must be done, however. The Seigneurie of Touraine would one andall be smirched with the disgrace, if members of their order werehanded over without a struggle to the vengeance of bucolic bumpkins.No doubt, no doubt--all the gentlemen agreed, but those who hadbrought their womenfolk over with them to enjoy this ill-omened feteday were unable to mask their anxiety. The peasantry all over Francehad, during the last few years, been guilty of raids upon thechateaux, had pillaged some, burnt others, inflicted outrages on theinhabitants. Was it likely that, though their province had hithertobeen quieter than most, the people, justly exasperated by a dreadfulcrime, would hearken to the voice of reason? It was, of course,right and proper that the marquis and his brethren should be fairlytried and sentenced, but really---at least, so thought one of theassembly--it would be better to abandon them to their fate than riskthe safety of the ladies.

  His neighbour, who was given to seeing things in an unpleasant light,shook his pate and sighed. "You forget," he said, "that thesemooncalves neither think nor reason. They are buffeted by impulse, ledby the nose by the first comer. Whether we give up the culprits or no,they will want to retaliate on all of us. It is class against class,and has been all along." This was true enough, and gloom descended onthe company.

  "What they will do," suggested one of the party, "will depend upon theman who is their leader."

  There was the case in a nutshell. When the people arrived atMontbazon, the Baron de Vaux must interpellate the leader, and beguided by that person's attitude.

  The distance between the two dwellings was so short; the rustics hadspread helter-skelter in so many directions, that the movements oftheir betters were rapidly ascertained. One party, which had made forLorge, found the gates wide open, the mansion apparently deserted, andwere about to prosecute the search elsewhere, when Jean Boulotappeared upon the scene, declaring that his love was a prisoner. Afurther search was made, and lying in her bed they found Toinon, aprey to stony despair. Brave girl as she was, she had given way todespondency, for what could two women do against such a close andsmall-meshed network of foes--absolutely friendless and forlorn?

  But here was Jean at last, faithful and true, at the head of arabblement. With a cry she fell upon his breast, and sobbed there asif her heart were broken, while he thanked Heaven for her safety.

  The servants had one and all decamped with such valuables as wereeasily carried. There was no sign of Mademoiselle Brunelle. To lingerhere was wasting time. Somebody had seen the abbe and the chevalierspurring like maniacs in the direction of Montbazon. "To Montbazon--toMontbazon," was the general shout, and as the crowd moved rapidlythitherward, its numbers were each moment augmented by newcomers armedwith scythes and staves, who each had something to tell. The Marquisde Gange had been seen galloping to Montbazon, the baron and many ofthe Seigneurie also. Montbazon, by will of avenging Providence, hadbecome a vermin trap which was full, and, please Heaven, not oneshould escape.

  Deputy Jean Boulot did not approve of such sentiments. To yell "CaIra" in discordant chorus--to gambol in the mazes of a dance whichbore some distorted rustic resemblance to the Carmagnole--these weresafe and harmless outlets for feverish activity. But honest Jean hadthe cause of the people too deeply at heart to allow his adherents todisgrace it. Before reaching Montbazon, therefore, he got on a greatstone in the middle of a field, and harangued his little army. Hewould have no unnecessary violence, he roundly declared. Whatever theconduct of the towns had been, the country parts of Touraine had beenconspicuous for decency. Unless his hearers promised to obey, he wouldshake the dust from off his feet and leave them. The three wretcheshad been delivered by God into their hands. The sovereign peopleshould do what they chose with the at-present-offending vermin, butthe innocent should be protected. The de Vaux family knew nothing ofthe tragedy, had instantly succoured the suffering marquise, when he,Jean, had placed her under their protection, and it would be an eviland disgraceful thing if their reward was to be the destruction oftheir property. The people hearkened and applauded. Brave Jean, honestclearheaded Jean, an honour to the province, and to France! Of coursehe should be obeyed, provided he did not strive to shelter his latemaster. "Ca ira, Ca ira! Quick, quick, no more delay." Jean lookinground was satisfied, for with Heaven's help, he saw his way to saveMontbazon from pillage.

  It was with some relief that on mounting by means of a ladder to thetop of the gateway, and surveying the vast seething sea of headsbelow, and the forest of glinting scythes, the baron beheld a man comeforward whom he had personally known for years. He had disliked theman, and somewhat dreaded him for his treasonable preachings to therustics. "A dangerous firebrand," he had always declared, "who will doa deal of mischief;" but as the sanguinary chronicle of historyunrolled itself, marked with many smears, he had been compell
ed toadmit that the whilom gamekeeper in authority at Blois had shown bothdiscretion and forbearance. A Collot d'Herbois or a Marat might haveheaded this vast concourse. There was hope in the fact that thepresiding chief was one who could listen to reason.

  "I am sorry to see you, Jean Boulot," the baron began, curtly, "at thehead of a menacing throng. Are you here as a patron of grave-diggers?"

  "You know what we are here for, and what we justly demand," returnedBoulot, as shortly.

  The sturdy knave! A queer dignity sat upon him like that which is wornby a successful general who has risen from the ranks.

  "Demand! H'm!" echoed the baron. "A strange word as addressed by youto me."

  "Citizen! You are foolishly playing with the lives of all within yourwalls," Jean said, earnestly. "Do you think to terrify us by strikingan attitude draped in the ragged frippery of your rank? A word fromme, and a thousand scythes will cut your baron's robe to ribbons. Lookaround. The news is still spreading. The indignant people are rushinghitherward. If in your folly you delay too long, they may pass beyondcontrol."

  "Do you war with your thousand scythes against a bevy of innocentwomen?"

  "No. We protect them when we can against the wickedness of theTouraine nobility."

  The baron bit his lip. He was not gaining ground.

  "Speak plainly. Tell me what you want."

  "I demand the instant delivery to me of the three miscreants you areharbouring."

  Some of the gentlemen who had crowded up the ladder to hear thecolloquy began to shift uneasily and murmur. "The man is right," onewhispered--"far more sensible than I expected."

  But the baron had no intention of giving way--of bending before arustic.

  "You ask what I cannot grant," he replied, haughtily. "I cannotdeliver nobles to the canaille."

  The clustering throng that pressed about Boulot were losing patience."These aristos are infatuated," one yelled, with threatening fist."You are wasting breath, Boulot. The vile insects must be crushedwholesale."

  "Have a care!" Jean cried, in warning. "If innocent blood is spilled,Baron de Vaux, the crime will be on your head. Insolent vaunting wordsfall back on those who launch them. We are honest men, and----"

  "Are you?" scoffed the baron. "You said just now that you protectedwomen. You prate now of innocent blood; the blood of our ladies isdestined, I presume, to join that of the Princesse de Lamballe and therest?"

  "I did not think that even the Seigneurie would seek to shelter behindpetticoats!" cried Jean, with rising choler.

  "Impudent varlet!" cried the baron, losing temper. "I would fainshield a bevy of women from massacre. Does the canaille decree theirslaughter?"

  Toinon had kept close to Jean, at whom she gazed with gladsome eyes,and a hectic spot of excitement upon either cheek.

  "If you love me, Jean," she whispered, "let the women pass. Ourchatelaine, remember, is among them."

  Boulot reflected for a moment, and the advice seemed good. "I made ademand just now," he said, "which I see that those behind you considerjust, and you treat me and this assembly with insult. Learn that thecanaille can teach such as you a salutory lesson in behaviour. Thatthe lives of many ladies are at stake gives us an immense advantage,but more generous than you we are prepared to waive it. Bring forthyour women folk. Under my own charge they shall be conducted to aplace of safety, the chateau of Lorge hard by. After that I willreturn, and man to man, repeat my just demand. If you then persist inrefusing it, I shall wash my hands of the results."

  An important point was gained, and there was a movement of reliefamong the gentlemen. But stiff-necked old De Vaux could not bringhimself civilly to accept a boon from what he considered the low scum.

  "I rejoice," he said, gruffly, "that you should save yourself from thestigma of slaying women. We take your word that your mob will remainwithout and that the ladies shall pass unharmed. But I suppose you arenot such a fool as to expect that I shall give up the marquis and hisbrothers?"

  "This man who stands beside me, alas, is right," Jean replied,sternly. "Your vulture class is infatuated and doomed to ruin, andcalls down its own destruction. The besotted arrogant nobles mustindeed be crushed--trodden down wholesale."

  "Sir, you forget yourself," stiffly remarked the baron.

  "A last warning! You are playing with both property and life."

  "Advice from you? Merci! A peasant Jack in office!"

  "I would save you if I could, but you are as vapouring and saucy asthe rest."

  The gentlemen within disapproved highly of the conduct of old De Vaux.What he deemed heroic--worthy of a Bayard or a Conde--they consideredstupid and imprudent. What was to be gained by angering this man withso vast a concourse at his back? Some of the country squires, audiblyexpostulating, pulled at his legs and coat tails, to end a foolishcolloquy.

  The baron, therefore, brought his ill-timed taunts to an undignifiedconclusion, and declared that if the mob would make a way the ladieswere ready to come forth.

  Boulot removed his hat and bowed, and the baron, not to be outdone inthe outward forms of courtesy, removed his own with a flourish andperformed a low obeisance.

  Meanwhile those at the back of the far-spreading throng who, unable tohear, considered that there was too much parleying, waxed savage. Wasan hour to be wasted over a simple negociation which should not occupysix minutes? The deputy from Blois was being cozened, was notdisplaying sufficient firmness, was reprehensively lacking indecision. The women backed up the men, and, convinced by their owncackle, were garrulous. They were unanimous as to storming the place,displaying to the world by a signal example that the people were thereal masters whose will was to be obeyed. Then there was a sway, and ascuffle, and a hubbub, as those in front were pushed back as thosebehind, and the wooden gates revolved upon their hinges. Themiscreants at last! Ah! Now for it! Every hand was eager to take partin the coming vengeance--the trio should be torn into such tiny shredsthat they should seem to have vanished into air. There was a forwardrush which recoiled upon itself. Those who pushed behind could notcomprehend what was passing. Some twenty trembling women of thesuperior class, judging by their flaunting garments, were beingmarshalled two and two, and Jean Boulot at their head on horseback wasexhorting the people to make way. A long, low, growl of angrydisappointment swept like a wind over the concourse, which might haveswelled into a menacing roar, followed by the mischief of a hurricane,if a diversion had not been caused by the forlorn appearance of theWhite Chatelaine of Lorge, moving with obvious effort supported by herfaithful foster-sister. How changed she was--how sadly wrecked herbeauty. Her big long-lashed blue eyes wore the startled look of onewho has seen a horror--the pupils were prominent and fixed--her motionwas that of an old old woman partly paralysed. Her haggard featuresbore an eloquent impress of what she had undergone, and there was apathos in her wandering groping movement that drew sobs from many abreast.

  "There she is--there she is," passed from one to another in anawe-stricken whisper. "God bless her, poor martyr! The kindest,noblest woman in all the country round!"

  Some, remembering kindly acts, stooped to kiss her robe as shetottered by--a mother whose dying infant she had saved by timelyhelp--a wife whose husband she had tended.

  It was well that Jean headed the cortege, exerting all his wit and hisauthority to force a safe passage for the timid cohort. There was arough fellow with a cart of firewood, who, from his eminence,contemplated the spectacle, broadly grinning. He and his cart Jeanrequisitioned, and packed the more weakly in it, for it occurred tohim that the progress to Lorge would be far from rapid, and that hewas leaving a dangerous element behind.

  What an odd scene the open space in front of Montbazon presented whenJean and his cortege were out of sight.

  Being fairly pulled down from his heroic eminence by disapprovinghands, De Vaux had mopped his brow, though the weather was chilly,observing, "For a peasant, he's remarkably advanced. If all were soreasonable--but no--that is ridiculous."

  The ladies g
one, their husbands and brothers asked their host what heproposed to do. Sentiment was sentiment, and all that, and duty,doubtless, was duty; but then there are a variety of ways of readingduty, which is not to be confounded with Quixotism.

  Stout-souled De Vaux, who, in his excitement, felt quite young--whollyoblivious of a sciatic nerve--declared doggedly that he would not giveup the miscreants. That peasant fellow was so amenable to argument onthe part of a superior, that, on his return, he, the superior, wouldcondescend to illuminate the situation. He would affably deign toexplain that he could not for a moment pretend to approve of the trio.The point of their dreadful wickedness was conceded. But he, De Vaux,could not, and would not, hand them over to lynch law, and it was,without a shadow of doubt, the duty of the Deputy of Blois to assisthim in upholding the law. He, Jean Boulot, being so amenable tosensible argument, would at once fall in with his views. As he hadescorted the ladies to Lorge, so would he succeed in piloting thebaron and his prisoners to Blois, where, with decorum and order, thelatter would be delivered to the authorities, that Justice mightfulfil her office. To the baron it was as clear as ditchwater, and hewas as steadfast as obstinacy could make him, ignoring the remark of aseigneur that this particularly enlightened peasant had made it a_sine qua non_ that the culprits should be handed to him.

  "Oh, pooh! pooh!" laughed De Vaux, quite enchanted with the success ofhis diplomacy. "When I insisted that the women should go out, he gaveway at once, and will again."

  It did not occur to him that the idea was Toinon's, and that Jean hadgiven way to her.

  "It may be necessary," went on the baron, "to make a show of force--tomake it understood, I mean, that we are not to be terrorised bythat useful implement, the scythe. You will please load yourfowling-pieces, gentlemen, and we will let them understand that wehave gunpowder."

  And so it came about that when the doors opened for the ladies'exodus, a glint was seen of muskets which fairly exasperated thecrowd. If muskets, why not concealed cannon? The firebrands who hadstood near to him during the colloquy, were dissatisfied by Jean'smoderate tone and perfect temper. He had said a harsh thing or two,certainly; but should not have allowed that pouter-pigeon fool tosuppose that he had made a score. The latter had retired in somewhatundignified fashion, pulled by leg and coat; but his feathers were allout notwithstanding, and he assumed the airs of a cock that was masterof his dunghill. Now this was manifestly absurd. The mob had but toraise its myriad horny hands, and over would go the dunghill buryingthe cock. Why that display of firearms? The baron had without a doubtgot the better of honest Jean; he had cheated him and achieved therebyan invaluable period of delay, during which his domestics wereprobably throwing up earthworks or doing something nefarious to baulkthe sovereign people.

  If this was the feeling in the front how much more did it dominate therear. Jean's strong personality withdrawn--the White Chatelaine'spiteous figure gone--those who had wept tears became the most franticfor vengeance.

  The females became m[oe]nads, and loudly taunted the males. Reportsfiltered from the front with the usual distortion, to the effect thatthe garrison had gained time by shrewd diplomacy, for running up worksof defence; that Jean on his return would be laughed at; that the wilybaron would snap his fingers in his face. A rumour even rose, nobodyknew how, that there was a secret subway leading somewhere, and thatthe miscreants were at this very moment effecting an escape, laughingin their sleeves at the pursuers. And the sovereign people was toremain inactive to be fooled before all Europe? How the fugitive_emigres_ would laugh when the three ruffians joined them, andexplained their clever ruse!

  "Jean Boulot is too straight and upright," some one declared "to dealwith such slippery cattle. When he returns anon, let him find the workaccomplished. If he does not approve, he can say with truth, that hehad nothing to do with the matter; but, if I mistake not, right sorrywill he be to be deprived of his share of vengeance."

  A squire was unlucky enough at this juncture to crawl up to theladder-top, drawn thither by idle curiosity, and to miss his footingthere. The fowling-piece in his hand struck the coping of the gatewayand went off. A yell as of two thousand maniacs pealed heavenward."They have fired on the sovereign people," rose in a mighty shout; andwith one accord the sea that had been lashing quietly towered in ahuge wave, encompassed the chateau and overwhelmed it. It was one ofthose sudden things which, like the phenomena of earth, strangles thebreath and leaves men palsied. When the ground rocks and yawns infissures, and the mountains tumble and the forests fall in heaps,lookers on can only marvel. The luckless denizens of Montbazon hadscarcely time for that. The gun discharged by accident acted as asignal. For an instant the gates groaned and rattled under a rain ofmissiles. The walls were black with human atoms who swarmed and buzzedlike flies, coming on and on in myriads. The seigneurs huddledmechanically together in a small knot, and fired one futile volley erethey were trodden under foot. A young fellow, bleeding from a deepgash inflicted by a scythe, leaned for support against an angle, andin answer to a question as to the brothers' whereabouts, pointed inthe direction of the dining-hall. Ere his life-blood ebbed away, hesaw with dimmed sight three wavering figures tossed hither andthither, like corks upon a boiling stream--was aware of a whirl offeet ascending a winding stair, amid yells of "a la lanterne,"--ofthree writhing human creatures dangling at the ends of ropes.

  Jean Boulot, hieing back from Lorge, was alarmed by a strange lightand a curious sound of menace like the distant shouting of vastcrowds. When he reached the open, from whence the chateau was visible,he pulled his horse up sharply. The concourse he had left soquiescent, were dancing like fiends around a mighty bonfire. Montbazonwas aflame from end to end. Its wooden tenements had caught, andblazed like touchwood. As he gazed tranquilly upon the luridspectacle, the ropes that held three black masses swinging aloft inspace were licked by forked flames and parted, and the figures droppedinto the furnace that seethed white hot below.

  "God's will be done!" Jean muttered. "They have well merited theirfate."

  Winter and spring went by. The king was dead; the queen lingered yetin the Conciergerie. Jocund summer-time had come round again, and aquiet group clad in deep mourning enjoyed the balmy air in thesecluded moat-garden of Lorge.

  A tall lady on whose still beautiful face were ploughed hard lines ofsuffering, was contemplating with a subdued smile of settled sadness,the romps of two children on the green.

  "Angelique!" she called in mild reproof, "you must not let them tireyou;" whereupon an old lady sitting close at hand leaning on an ebonycrutch said, "Let be. It does me good to hear Angelique laugh againafter that awful day."

  "Hush!" replied Madame de Gange, "you must not brood over thatmisfortune. The baron died as a French noble should, in doing what hebelieved to be his duty. Montbazon is rising from its ashes, a muchmore commodious dwelling."

  "Thanks to your liberality," sighed Madame de Vaux, "but I can neverendure to live in it."

  "Nor shall you," returned Gabrielle, quickly. "We settled long agothat you and Angelique were to make your home with me."

  There was a silence, while the ladies reviewed the past, which hadbeen so terrible a nightmare to both. Then Madame de Vaux, drying hereyes, observed, "How strange it is that the baleful woman was neverafter heard of."

  "Nor my jewel-case," replied Gabrielle, slyly. "I doubt if thosestolen gems will bring good fortune to the thief!"

  THE END.

  * * * * * SIMMONS & BOTTEN, PRINTERS, LONDON. _G. C. & Co_.