CHAPTER XXII
D'HEROUVILLE THREATENS AND MADAME FINDS A DROLL BOOK
The next morning the vicomte went to the hospital to inquire into thestate of the Comte d'Herouville's health. He found that gentlemanwalking back and forth in the ward. There was little of the invalidabout him save for the pallor on his cheeks, which provided proof thathis blood was not yet of its accustomed thickness. At the sight of thevicomte he neither frowned nor smiled; the expression on his faceremained unchanged, but he ceased his pacing. The two men contemplatedeach other, and the tableau lasted for a minute.
"Well, Monsieur?" said D'Herouville, calmly.
The vicomte was genuinely surprised at the strides toward completenesswhich D'Herouville had made. An ordinary man would still have beeneither in bed or in a chair. But none of this surprise appeared on theVicomte's face. He had come with a purpose, and he went at it directly.
"Count," he replied, "you and I have been playing hide and seek in thewoods, needlessly and purposelessly."
"I scarce comprehend your words or your presence."
"I will explain at once. Madame de Brissac has made sorry fools of usall. She is here in Quebec."
"What?" The pain caused by the sudden intake of breath stoopedD'Herouville's shoulders.
"I have the honor, then, of bringing you the news? Yes," easily,"Madame de Brissac is in Quebec. Why, is as yet unknown to me."
"What is your purpose in bringing me this lie?" asked D'Herouville,recovering. "I have been surrounded by lies ever since I stepped footin Rochelle. I shall kill Monsieur de Saumaise a week hence."
"And you do not wish satisfaction from me?" slyly.
A fury leaped into D'Herouville's eyes, but suddenly died away. "I amliving only with that end in view. It was very clever of you to makethem think you were taking up the Chevalier's cause. You hoodwinkedthem nicely."
The vicomte played with the ends of his mustache, as was his habit.
"You say Madame de Brissac is in Quebec ?"
"Yes. And presently your own eyes shall prove the truth of mystatement."
D'Herouville glanced at his sword, which hung upon the wall. "InQuebec," he mused. "A lie in this case would be objectless."
"As you see. And would you believe it, there has been a love intriguebetween her and the Chevalier! There's a woman, now! How cleverly shejuggled with us all!"
"The Chevalier?"
"Yes. How you love that man! Droll, is it not? She has beenmasquerading, and to this day he hasn't the slightest idea who she is."
"Come, now, Vicomte," with assumed good nature; "your purpose; out withit."
"I am not a man to waste time, certainly."
"You will give me satisfaction, then?"
"You have but to name the day. The truth is, under the presentcircumstances the world has suddenly contracted."
D'Herouville nodded. "That is to say, it is no longer large enough forboth of us. I comprehend that perfectly."
"As I knew you would. I am exceedingly chagrined," continued thevicomte, "at seeing you walking above the sod when, by a little morecare on my part, you would be resting neatly under it. But at thattime I had no other idea than temporarily to disable you. Could we butsee into the future sometimes!"
"In your place I should recoil from the gift." The count was shakingwith rage. "I shall not lose my temper when next we meet. If you werenot careful, I was equally careless."
"Within a week's time, Monsieur. By that date you will be as strong asa bull. Your vitality is remarkable. But listen. Madame de Brissacshall be my wife. First, I love her for herself; and then because DeBrissac left some handsome property."
"Which has Mazarin's seals of confiscation upon it," mockingly.
"They can be removed," imperturbably. "I tell you frankly that I shallovercome all obstacles to reach my end. You are one of the obstacleswhich must be removed, and I am here this morning expressly to acquaintyou with this fact."
"Perhaps I shall kill you."
"There will be the Chevalier."
"Measure swords with him?" sneeringly. "I believe not."
"There will still remain Monsieur de Saumaise, who, for all his rhymes,handles a pretty blade."
D'Herouville snapped his fingers. "His death I have alreadydetermined."
"Besides, if I read the Chevalier rightly he will force you. Youlaughed too loudly."
"I will laugh again, even more loudly."
"He will strike you . . . even as I did."
D'Herouville spat. "Leave me, Monsieur. My wound may open again, andthat would put me back."
"I advise you to take the air to-day."
"I shall do so."
They were very courtly in those old days.
So D'Herouville went forth to take the air that afternoon andincidentally to pay his respects in person to Madame de Brissac.Fortune favored him, for he met her coming down the path from the uppertown. He lifted his hat gravely and barred her path.
"Madame, my delight at seeing you is inexpressible."
Madame's countenance signified that the delight was his alone; sheshared no particle of it. She knew that eventually their paths wouldcross again, but she had prepared no plans to meet this certainty. Hergaze swerved from his and rested longingly on the Henri IV in theharbor. She had determined to return to France upon it. The amazingepisode of the night before convinced her that her safety lay rather inFrance than in Canada. But she had confided this determination to noone, not even to Anne.
"Have you no welcome, Madame?"
"My husband's friends," she said, "were not always mine; and I see noreason why you should continue further to address me."
"De Brissac? Bah! I was never his friend."
"So much the more doubt upon your honesty;" and she moved as if to pass.
"Madame, D'Halluys told me this morning that he is determined that youshall be his wife."
"The vicomte's confidence is altogether too large." She laughed, andmade another ineffectual attempt to pass. "Monsieur, you are detainingme."
"That is correct. I have much to say to you. In the first place, youplayed us all for a pack of fools, and all the while you were carryingon an intrigue with that fellow who calls himself the Chevalier duCevennes."
Madame's lips closed firmly, and a circle of color spotted her cheeks.There had been times recently when she regretted De Brissac's death.
"What have you to say, Madame?" he demanded.
"To you? Nothing, save that if you do not at once stand aside I shallcall for aid. Your impertinence is even greater than Monsieurd'Halluys'. I wonder at your courage in thus addressing me."
"I am not a patient man, Madame," coming closer. "I have publiclyvowed my love for you, and Heaven nor hell shall keep me from you."
"Not even myself? Come, Monsieur," wrathfully, "you are acting like afool or a boy. Women such as I am are not won in this braggartfashion. Certainly you must admit that I have something to say inregard to the disposition of my hand. And let me say this at once: Ishall wed no man; and were either you or Monsieur le Comte the last manin the world, I should run away and hide. Stand aside."
"And if I should use force?" throwing aside the reins of self-control.
"Force, force!" flinging wide her hands; "you speak to me of force!Monsieur, you are not a fool, but a madman."
"But we are still tender toward the Chevalier?" snarling.
"The least I can say of Monsieur le Chevalier is that he is agentleman."
"A gentleman? Ho! that is rich. A gentleman!"
The path was at this point almost too narrow for her to walk aroundhim; so she waited without replying.
"And do not forget, Madame, that you are a fugitive from justice, andthat a word to Monsieur de Lauson . . ."
"I dare you to speak, Monsieur," with growing anger. "Have you nobogus paper to hold over my head? Are you about to play the vicomte'strick second-hand?"
"I know nothing about
his tricks, but I shall kill him at an earlydate."
Madame's shrug said plainly that it mattered nothing to her. "Oncemore, will you stand aside, or must I call?"
"Call, Madame!" His violence got the better of him, and he seized herwrist. "Call to the fellow who calls himself the Chevalier; call!"
"Do I hear some one calling my name?" said a voice not far away.
D'Herouville looked over madame's shoulder, while madame turned withrelief. She quickly released her wrist and sped some distance up thepath, passing the Chevalier, who did not stop till he stood face toface with D'Herouville.
"You were about to remark?" began the Chevalier, a frank and honesthatred in his eyes.
The count eyed him contemptuously. "Stand out of the way, you . . ."
"Do not speak that word aloud, Monsieur," interrupted the Chevalier,gloomily, "or I will force it down your throat, though we both tumbleover the cliff."
D'Herouville knew the Perigny blood well enough to believe that theChevalier was in earnest. "It would be your one opportunity," he said;"for you do not suppose I shall do you the honor to cross swords withyou."
"Most certainly I do. You laughed that night, and no man shall laughat me and boast of it."
"I shall always laugh," and the count's laughter, loud and insulting,drifted to where madame stood.
There was something so sinister in the echo that she became chilled.She watched the two men, fascinated by she knew not what.
"You shall die for that laugh," said the Chevalier, paling.
"By the cliff, then, but never by the sword."
"By the sword. I shall challenge you at the first mess you attend. Ifyou refuse and state your reasons, I promise to knock you down. If youpersist in refusing, I shall slap your face wherever and whenever wechance to meet. That is all I have to say to you; I trust that it isexplicit."
D'Herouville's eyes were full of venom. "It wants only the poet tochallenge me, and the circle will be complete. I will fight the poetand the vicomte; they come from no doubtful source. As for you, I willdo you the honor to hire a trooper to take my place. Fight you? Youmake me laugh against my will! And as for threats, listen to me.Strike me, and by the gods! Madame shall learn who you are, or,rather, who you pretend to be." The count whistled a bar of music,swung about cavalierly, and retraced his steps toward the lower town.
The Chevalier stared at his retreating figure till it sank below thelevel of the ridge. He was without redress; he was impotent;D'Herouville would do as he said. God! He struck his hands togetherin his despair, forgetful that madame saw his slightest movement. Whenhe recollected her, he moved toward her. Madame. D'Herouville hadcalled her madame.
On seeing him approach her first desire was to move in the samedirection; that is to say, to keep the distance at its present measure.A thousand questions flitted through her brain. She had heard asentence which so mystified her that the impulse to flee went assuddenly as it came. She succeeded in composing her features by thetime he arrived at her side.
"Madame," he said, quietly, "whither were you bound?"
She looked at him blankly. For the life of her she could not tell atthat moment what had been her destination! The situation struck her asso absurd that she could barely stifle the hysterical laughter whichrushed to her lips.
"I . . . I will return to the chateau," she finally replied.
"The count was annoying you?" walking beside her.
"Thanks to you, Monsieur, the annoyance is past."
Some ground was gone over in silence. This silence disturbed her farmore than the sound of his voice. It gave him a certain mastery. Soshe spoke.
"You said 'Madame'," tentatively.
"Such was the title D'Herouville applied." And again he became silent.
"Did he tell you my name?" with a sudden and unexpected fierceness.
"No, Madame; he did not speak your name. But he knows it; while I, wholove you honorably and more than my life, I must remain in ignorance.An expedition is to start soon, Madame, and as I shall join it, mypresence here will no longer afford you annoyance."
"Wherefore this rage, Madame, shining in your beautiful eyes, thinningyour lips, widening your nostrils?"
Madame was in a rage; but not even the promise of salvation would haveforced the cause from her lips. O for Paris, where, lightly andwittily, she could humble this man! Here wit was stale on the tongue,and every one went about with a serious purpose. She went on, her chintilted, her gaze lofty. The wind tossed her hair, there were phantomroses on her cheeks which bloomed and withered and bloomed yet again.Diane, indeed: Diane of the green Aegean sea and the marbles of Athens!
"You need go no farther, Monsieur. It is quite unnecessary, as I knowthe way perfectly."
"I prefer to see you safe inside the chateau," with quiet determination.
Was this the gallant who had attracted her fancy? This was not the wayhe had made love in former days. Slyly her eyes revolved in hisdirection. His temples were grey! She had not noted this change tillnow. Grey; and the face, tanned even in the shaven jaws, was careworn.There was a gesture which escaped his notice. Why had she been guiltyof the inexcusable madness, the inexplicable folly, of this voyage?
"Madame, this is your door."
The Chevalier stepped aside and uncovered.
"Monsieur, you have lost a valuable art." There was a fleeting glance,and she vanished within, leaving him puzzled and astonished by theunexpected softening of her voice. How long he stood there, with hisgaze fixed upon the vacant doorway, he never knew. What did she mean?
"Well, Paul?" And Victor, having come up behind, laid his hand on theChevalier's arm. "Do you know her, then?" nodding toward the door.
"Know her?" The Chevalier faced his comrade. "Would to God, lad, Idid not, for she has made me the most unhappy of men."
The poet trembled in terror at the light within. "She is . . . ?"
"Yes, Diane; Diane, whose name I murmur in my dreams, waking orsleeping."
"She?" in half a whisper. "Her name?"
"Her name? No! I know her as a mystery; as Tantalus thirsting for thefruit which hangs ever beyond the reach, I know her; as a woman who isnot what she seems, always masked, with or without the cambric. Knowher?" with a laugh full of despair.
Victor was a man of courage and resource. "I know where there's atwo-quart bottle of burgundy, Paul. Bah! life will look cheerfulenough through that mellow red. Come with me."
The Chevalier followed him to the lower town, where, in a room in oneof the warehouses, they sat down to the wine.
"Let the women go hang, lad, one and all!" cried the Chevalier, afterhis sixth and final glass.
"Let them go hang!" But Victor did not confide; not he, loyal friend!And when he held his emptied glass on high, sighed, and dropped it onthe earthen floor, the Chevalier did not know that his comrade's heartlay shattered with the glass. Gallant poet!
As madame threaded her way through the dim corridor, but one thoughtoccupied her mind. It echoed and re-echoed--"Or, rather, what youpretend to be." What did D'Herouville mean by that? To what did theChevalier pretend? Her foot struck something. It was a book.Absently she stooped and picked it up, carrying it to her room. "Or,rather, what you pretend to be." If only she had heard the first partof the sentence, or what had led to it! The Chevalier was graduallybecoming as much of a mystery to her as she was to him. There had beena sea-change; he was no longer a fop; there was grey in his hair; hewas a man. In her room there was light from the sun. Carelessly sheglanced at the book. It was grey with dust, which she blew away.Evidently it had lain some time in the corridor. She flapped thecovers. The title, dim and worn, smiled drolly up. She blushed, andabruptly laid the offending volume on the table. The merry Vicar ofMeudon was not wholly acceptable to her woman's mind. To whom did itbelong, this foundling book? With a grimace which would have causedRabelais to smile, she turned back the cover.
"The Chevalier's
!" To what did he pretend? "I shall send it back tohis room. Gabrielle, Gabrielle, thou wert a fool, and a fool's follyhas brought you to Quebec! A nun? I should die! Why did I come? Inmercy's name, why? . . . A letter?" An oblong envelope, lying on thefloor, attracted her attention. She took it up with a deal morecuriosity than she had the book. "To Monsieur le Marquis de Perigny,"she read, "to be delivered into his hands at my death." She studiedthe scrawl. It was not the Chevalier's; and yet, how strangelyfamiliar to her eyes! Should she send it directly to the marquis or tothe son? She debated for several moments. Then she touched the belland summoned the woman whom the governor had kindly placed at herservice.
"Take this book and letter to Monsieur du Cevennes, and if he is notthere, leave it in his room." Her lack of curiosity saved her. Somewomen would have opened the letter, read, and been destroyed. Butmadame's guiding star was undimmed.
It was just before the evening mess that the Chevalier, on entering hisroom, saw the volume and the letter. He gave his attention immediatelyto the letter; and, became strangely fascinated. It was addressed tohis father! "To Monsieur le Marquis de Perigny, to be delivered intohis hands at my death." Whose death? The Chevalier rested the letteron the palm of his hand. How came it here? He inspected the envelope.It was unsealed. He balanced it, first on one hand, then, on theother. Was it the wine that caused the shudder? Whose death? keptringing through his brain. How the gods must have smiled as theyplayed with the fate of this man! Terror and tragedy, and only anopaque sheet of paper between! Whose death? The envelope was old, theink was faded. What was written within? Did the contents in any wayconcern him? It was within a finger's reach. But he hesitated, as ablind man hesitates when the guiding hand is suddenly withdrawn. "ToMonsieur le Marquis de Perigny, to be delivered into his hands at mydeath."
"It is his, not mine; let him read it. Breton, lad, here's yourRabelais, come back I know not how. But here is a letter which youwill deliver to Jehan, who in turn will see that it reaches its owner."
Thus, the gods, having had their fill of play, relented.
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