Historical Romances: Under the Red Robe, Count Hannibal, A Gentleman of France

by Stanley John Weyman

  CHAPTER III.

  THE HOUSE IN THE WOOD.

  MY words fairly startled the three men out of their anger. For amoment they glared at me as if they had seen a ghost. Then thewine-merchant clapped his hand on the table. "That is enough!" hesaid, with a look at his companions. "I think there can be no mistakeabout that. As damnable treason as ever I heard whispered! Icongratulate you, Sir, on your boldness. As for you," he continued,turning with an ugly sneer to the landlord, "I shall know now thecompany you keep! I was not aware that my wine wet whistles to such atune!"

  But if he was startled, the innkeeper was furious, seeing hischaracter thus taken away; and, being at no time a man of many words,he vented his rage exactly in the way I wished. In a twinkling heraised such an uproar as can scarcely be conceived. With a roar like abull's he ran headlong at the table, and overturned it on the top ofme. The woman saved the lamp and fled with it into a corner, whenceshe and the man from the Chateau watched the skirmish in silence; butthe pewter cups and platters flew spinning across the floor, while thetable pinned me to the ground among the ruins of my stool. Having meat this disadvantage--for at first I made no resistance--the landlordbegan to belabour me with the first thing he snatched up, and when Itried to defend myself cursed me with each blow for a treacherousrogue and a vagrant. Meanwhile, the three merchants, delighted withthe turn things had taken, skipped round us laughing; and now houndedhim on, now bantered me with "How is that for the Duke of Orleans?"and "How now, traitor?"

  When I thought this had lasted long enough--or, to speak more plainly,when I could stand the innkeeper's drubbing no longer--I threw him offby a great effort, and struggled to my feet. But still, though theblood was trickling down my face, I refrained from drawing my sword. Icaught up instead a leg of the stool which lay handy, and, watching myopportunity, dealt the landlord a shrewd blow under the ear, whichlaid him out in a moment on the wreck of his own table.

  "Now!" I cried, brandishing my new weapon, which fitted the hand to anicety, "come on! Come on, if you dare to strike a blow, you peddling,truckling, huckstering knaves! A fig for you and your shavelingCardinal!"

  The red-faced wine-merchant drew his sword in a one-two. "Why, youdrunken fool," he said wrathfully, "put that stick down, or I willspit you like a lark!"

  "Lark in your teeth!" I cried, staggering as if the wine were in myhead. "Another word, and I--"

  He made a couple of savage passes at me, but in a twinkling his swordflew across the room.

  "_Voila!_" I shouted, lurching forward, as if I had luck and not skillto thank for it. "Now the next! Come on, come on--you white-liveredknaves!" And, pretending a drunken frenzy, I flung my weapon bodilyamongst them, and seizing the nearest, began to wrestle with him.

  In a moment they all threw themselves upon me, and, swearingcopiously, bore me back to the door. The wine-merchant criedbreathlessly to the woman to open it, and in a twinkling they had methrough it and half way across the road. The one thing I feared was aknife-thrust in the melee; but I had to run that risk, and the menwere honest enough and, thinking me drunk, indulgent. In a trice Ifound myself on my back in the dirt, with my head humming; and heardthe bars of the door fall noisily into their places.

  I got up and went to the door, and, to play out my part, hammered onit frantically, crying out to them to let me in. But the threetravellers only jeered at me, and the landlord, coming to the window,with his head bleeding, shook his fist at me and cursed me for amischief-maker.

  Baffled in this I retired to a log which lay in the road a few pacesfrom the house, and sat down on it to await events. With torn clothesand bleeding face, hatless and covered with dirt, I was in scarcelybetter case than my opponent. It was raining, too, and the drippingbranches swayed over my head. The wind was in the south--the coldestquarter. I began to feel chilled and dispirited. If my scheme failed,I had forfeited roof and bed to no purpose, and placed future progressout of the question. It was a critical moment.

  But at last that happened for which I had been looking. The door swungopen a few inches, and a man came noiselessly out; the door wasquickly barred behind him. He stood a moment, waiting on the thresholdand peering into the gloom; and seemed to expect to be attacked.Finding himself unmolested, however, and all quiet, he went offsteadily down the street--towards the Chateau.

  I let a couple of minutes go by and then I followed. I had nodifficulty in hitting on the track at the end of the street, but whenI had once plunged into the wood, I found myself in darkness sointense that I soon strayed from the path, and fell over roots, andtore my clothes with thorns, and lost my temper twenty times before Ifound the path again. However, I gained the bridge at last, and caughtsight of a light twinkling before me. To make for it across the meadowand terrace was an easy task; yet when I had reached the door and hadhammered upon it, I was in so sorry a plight that I sank down, and hadno need to play a part or pretend to be worse than I was.

  For a long time no one answered. The dark house towering above meremained silent. I could hear, mingled with the throbbings of myheart, the steady croaking of the frogs in a pond near the stables;but no other sound. In a frenzy of impatience and disgust I stood upagain and hammered, kicking with my heels on the nail-studded door,and crying out desperately, "_A moi_! _A moi!_"

  Then, or a moment later, I heard a remote door opened; footsteps as ofmore than one person drew near. I raised my voice and cried again, "_Amoi!_"

  "Who is there?" a voice asked.

  "A gentleman in distress," I answered piteously, moving my handsacross the door. "For God's sake open and let me in. I am hurt, anddying of cold."

  "What brings you here?" the voice asked sharply. Despite its tartness,I fancied it was a woman's.

  "Heaven knows!" I answered desperately. "I cannot tell. Theymaltreated me at the inn, and threw me into the street. I crawledaway, and have been wandering in the wood for hours. Then I saw alight here."

  Thereon, some muttering took place on the other side of the door, towhich I had my ear. It ended in the bars being lowered. The door swungpartly open and a light shone out, dazzling me. I tried to shade myeyes with my fingers, and as I did so fancied I heard a murmur ofpity. But when I looked in under screen of my hand I saw only oneperson--the man who held the light, and his aspect was so strange, soterrifying, that, shaken as I was by fatigue, I recoiled a step.

  He was a tall and very thin man, meanly dressed in a short scantyjacket and well-darned hose. Unable, for some reason, to bend hisneck, he carried his head with a strange stiffness.

  And that head! Never did living man show a face so like death. Hisforehead was bald and white, his cheek-bones stood out under thestrained skin, all the lower part of his face fell in, his jawsreceded, his cheeks were hollow, his lips and chin were thin andfleshless. He seemed to have only one expression--a fixed grin.

  While I stood looking at this formidable creature he made a quickmotion to shut the door again, smiling more widely. I had the presenceof mind to thrust in my foot, and, before he could resent the act, avoice in the background cried: "For shame, Clon! Stand back. Standback, do you hear? I am afraid, Monsieur, that you are hurt."

  The last words were my welcome to that house; and, spoken at an hourand in circumstances so gloomy, they made a lasting impression. Roundthe hall ran a gallery, and this, the height of the apartment, and thedark panelling seemed to swallow up the light. I stood within theentrance (as it seemed to me) of a huge cave; the skull-headed porterhad the air of an ogre. Only the voice which greeted me dispelled theillusion. I turned trembling towards the quarter whence it came, and,shading my eyes, made out a woman's form standing in a doorway underthe gallery. A second figure, which I took to be that of the servant Ihad seen at the inn, loomed uncertainly beside her.

  I bowed in silence. My teeth were chattering I was faint withoutfeigning, and felt a kind of terror, hard to explain, at the sound ofthis woman's voice.

  "One of our people has told me ab
out you," she continued, speaking outof the darkness. "I am sorry that this has happened to you here, but Iam afraid that you were indiscreet."

  "I take all the blame, Madame," I answered humbly. "I ask only shelterfor the night."

  "The time has not yet come when we cannot give our friends that!" sheanswered, with noble courtesy. "When it does, Monsieur, we shall behomeless ourselves."

  I shivered, looking anywhere but at her; for I had not sufficientlypictured this scene of my arrival--I had not foreseen its details; andnow I took part in it I felt a miserable meanness weigh me down. I hadnever from the first liked the work! But, I had had no choice. And Ihad no choice now. Luckily, the guise in which I came, my fatigue, andwound were a sufficient mark, or I should have incurred suspicion atonce. For I am sure that if ever in this world a brave man wore ahang-dog air, or Gil de Berault fell below himself, it was then andthere--on Madame de Cocheforet's threshold, with her welcome soundingin my ears.

  One, I think, did suspect me. Clon, the porter, continued to hold thedoor obstinately ajar and to eye me with grinning spite, until hismistress, with some sharpness, bade him drop the bars, and conduct meto a room.

  "Do you go also, Louis," she continued, speaking to the man besideher, "and see this gentleman comfortably disposed. I am sorry," sheadded, addressing me in the graceful tone she had before used, and Ithought I could see her head bend in the darkness, "that our presentcircumstances do not permit us to welcome you more fitly, Monsieur.But the troubles of the times--however, you will excuse what islacking. Until to-morrow, I have the honour to bid you goodnight."

  "Good-night, Madame," I stammered, trembling. I had not been able todistinguish her face in the gloom of the doorway, but her voice, hergreeting, her presence, unmanned me. I was troubled and perplexed; Ihad not spirit to kick a dog. I followed the two servants from thehall without heeding how we went; nor was it until we came to a fullstop at a door in a whitewashed corridor, and it was forced upon methat something was in question between my two conductors, that I beganto take notice.

  Then I saw that one of them, Louis, wished to lodge me here where westood. The porter, on the other hand, who held the keys, would not. Hedid not speak a word, nor did the other--and this gave a queer ominouscharacter to the debate; but he continued to jerk his head towards thefarther end of the corridor, and, at last, he carried his point. Louisshrugged his shoulders, and moved on, glancing askance at me; and I,not understanding the matter in debate, followed the pair in silence.

  We reached the end of the corridor, and there, for an instant, themonster with the keys paused and grinned at me. Then he turned into anarrow passage on the left, and after following it for some paces,halted before a small, strong door. His key jarred in the lock, but heforced it shrieking round, and with a savage flourish threw the dooropen.

  I walked in and saw a mean, bare chamber with barred windows. Thefloor was indifferently clean, there was no furniture. The yellowlight of the lanthorn falling on the stained walls gave the place thelook of a dungeon. I turned to the two men. "This is not a very goodroom," I said. "And it feels damp. Have you no other?"

  Louis looked doubtfully at his companion. But the porter shook hishead stubbornly.

  "Why does he not speak?" I asked with impatience.

  "He is dumb," Louis answered.

  "Dumb!" I exclaimed. "But he hears."

  "He has ears," the servant answered drily. "But he has no tongue,Monsieur."

  I shuddered. "How did he lose it?" I asked.

  "At Rochelle. He was a spy, and the King's people took him the day thetown surrendered. They spared his life, but cut out his tongue."

  "Ah!" I said. I wished to say more, to be natural, to show myself atmy ease. But the porter's eyes seemed to burn into me, and my owntongue clove to the roof of my mouth. He opened his lips and pointedto his throat with a horrid gesture, and I shook my head and turnedfrom him-- "You can let me have some bedding?" I murmured hastily, forthe sake of saying something, and to escape.

  "Of course, Monsieur," Louis answered. "I will fetch some."

  He went away, thinking doubtless that Clon would stay with me. Butafter waiting a minute the porter strode off also with the lanthorn,leaving me to stand in the middle of the damp, dark room, and reflecton the position. It was plain that Clon suspected me. This prison-likeroom, with its barred window at the back of the house, and in the wingfarthest from the stables, proved so much. Clearly, he was a dangerousfellow, of whom I must beware. I had just begun to wonder how Madamecould keep such a monster in her house, when I heard his stepreturning. He came in, lighting Louis, who carried a small pallet anda bundle of coverings.

  The dumb man had, besides the lanthorn, a bowl of water and a piece ofrag in his hand. He set them down, and going out again, fetched in astool. Then he hung up the lanthorn on a nail, took the bowl and rag,and invited me to sit down.

  I was loth to let him touch me; but he continued to stand over me,pointing and grinning with dark persistence, and, rather than stand ona trifle, I sat down at last, and gave him his way. He bathed my headcarefully enough, and I dare say did it good; but I understood. I knewthat his only desire was to learn whether the cut was real or apretence. I began to fear him more and more, and, until he was gonefrom the room, dared scarcely lift my face, lest he should read toomuch in it.

  Alone, even, I felt uncomfortable. This seemed so sinister a business,and so ill begun. I was in the house. But Madame's frank voice hauntedme, and the dumb man's eyes, full of suspicion and menace. When Ipresently got up and tried my door, I found it locked. The roomsmelled dank and close--like a vault. I could not see through thebarred window; but I could hear the boughs sweep it in ghostlyfashion; and I guessed that it looked out where the wood grew close tothe walls of the house; and that even in the day the sun never peepedthrough it.

  Nevertheless, tired and worn out, I slept at last. When I awoke theroom was full of grey light, the door stood open, and Louis, lookingashamed of himself, waited by my pallet with a cup of wine in hishand, and some bread and fruit on a platter.

  "Will Monsieur be good enough to rise?" he said. "It is eighto'clock."

  "Willingly," I answered tartly. "Now that the door is unlocked."

  He turned red. "It was an oversight," he stammered. "Clon isaccustomed to lock the door, and he did it inadvertently, forgettingthat there was any one--"

  "Inside!" I said drily.

  "Precisely, Monsieur."

  "Ah!" I replied. "Well, I do not think the oversight would pleaseMadame de Cocheforet, if she heard of it?"

  "If Monsieur would have the kindness not to--"

  "Mention it, my good fellow?" I answered, looking at him with meaning,as I rose. "No; but it must not occur again."

  I saw that this man was not like Clon. He had the instincts of thefamily servant, and freed from the influences of darkness, feltashamed of his conduct. While he arranged my clothes, he looked roundthe room with an air of distaste, and muttered once or twice that thefurniture of the principal chambers was packed away.

  "M. de Cocheforet is abroad, I think?" I said, as I dressed.

  "And likely to remain there," the man answered carelessly, shrugginghis shoulders. "Monsieur will doubtless have heard that he is introuble. In the meantime, the house is triste, and Monsieur mustoverlook much, if he stays. Madame lives retired, and the roads areill-made and visitors few."

  "When the lion was ill the jackals left him," I said.

  Louis nodded. "It is true," he answered simply. He made no boast orbrag on his own account, I noticed; and it came home to me that he wasa faithful fellow, such as I love. I questioned him discreetly, andlearned that he and Clon and an older man who lived over the stableswere the only male servants left of a great household. Madame, hersister-in-law, and three women completed the family.

  It took me some time to repair my wardrobe, so that I dare say it wasnearly ten when I left my dismal little room. I found Louis waiting inthe corridor, and he told me that Madame de Cochefore
t andMademoiselle were in the rose-garden, and would be pleased to receiveme. I nodded, and he guided me through several dim passages to aparlour with an open door, through which the sun shone in gaily.Cheered by the morning air and this sudden change to pleasantness andlife, I stepped lightly out.

  The two ladies were walking up and down a wide path which bisected thegarden. The weeds grew rankly in the gravel underfoot, the rose-busheswhich bordered the walk thrust their branches here and there inuntrained freedom, a dark yew hedge which formed the backgroundbristled with rough shoots and sadly needed trimming. But I did notsee any of these things then. The grace, the noble air, thedistinction of the two women who paced slowly to meet me--and whoshared all these qualities greatly as they differed in others--left meno power to notice trifles.

  Mademoiselle was a head shorter than her _belle s[oe]ur_--a slenderwoman and petite, with a beautiful face and a fair complexion. Shewalked with dignity, but beside Madame's stately figure she seemedalmost childish. And it was characteristic of the two thatMademoiselle as they drew near to me regarded me with sorrowfulattention, Madame with a grave smile.

  I bowed low. They returned the salute. "This is my sister," Madame deCocheforet said, with a slight, a very slight air of condescension."Will you please to tell me your name, Monsieur?"

  "I am M. de Barthe, a gentleman of Normandy," I said, taking the nameof my mother. My own, by a possibility, might be known.

  Madame's face wore a puzzled look. "I do not know your name, I think,"she said thoughtfully. Doubtless she was going over in her mind allthe names with which conspiracy had made her familiar.

  "That is my misfortune, Madame," I said humbly.

  "Nevertheless I am going to scold you," she rejoined, still eyeing mewith some keenness. "I am glad to see that you are none the worse foryour adventure--but others may be. And you should have borne that inmind."

  "I do not think that I hurt the man seriously," I stammered.

  "I do not refer to that," she answered coldly. "You know, or shouldknow, that we are in disgrace here; that the Government regards usalready with an evil eye, and that a very small thing would lead themto garrison the village and perhaps oust us from the little the warshave left us. You should have known this and considered it," shecontinued. "Whereas--I do not say that you are a braggart, M. deBarthe. But on this one occasion you seem to have played the part ofone."

  "Madame, I did not think," I stammered.

  "Want of thought causes much evil," she answered, smiling. "However, Ihave spoken, and we trust that while you stay with us you will be morecareful. For the rest, Monsieur," she continued graciously, raisingher hand to prevent me speaking, "we do not know why you are here, orwhat plans you are pursuing. And we do not wish to know. It is enoughthat you are of our side. This house is at your service as long as youplease to use it. And if we can aid you in any other way we will doso."

  "Madame!" I exclaimed; and there I stopped. I could not say any more.The rose-garden, with its air of neglect, the shadow of the quiethouse that fell across it, the great yew hedge which backed it, andwas the pattern of one under which I had played in childhood--all hadpoints that pricked me. But the women's kindness, their unquestioningconfidence, the noble air of hospitality which moved them! Againstthese and their placid beauty in its peaceful frame I had no shield. Iturned away, and feigned to be overcome by gratitude. "I have nowords--to thank you!" I muttered presently. "I am a little shaken thismorning. I--pardon me."

  "We will leave you for a while," Mademoiselle de Cocheforet said, ingentle, pitying tones. "The air will revive you. Louis shall call youwhen we go to dinner, M. de Barthe. Come, Elise."

  I bowed low to hide my face, and they nodded pleasantly--not lookingclosely at me--as they walked by me to the house. I watched the twogracious, pale-robed figures until the doorway swallowed them, andthen I walked away to a quiet corner where the shrubs grew highest andthe yew hedge threw its deepest shadow, and I stood to think.

  They were strange thoughts, I remember. If the oak can think at themoment the wind uproots it, or the gnarled thorn-bush when thelandslip tears it from the slope, they may have such thoughts. Istared at the leaves, at the rotting blossoms, into the dark cavitiesof the hedge; I stared mechanically, dazed and wondering. What was thepurpose for which I was here? What was the work I had come to do?Above all, how--my God! how was I to do it in the face of thesehelpless women, who trusted me--who opened their house to me? Clon hadnot frightened me, nor the loneliness of the leagued village, nor theremoteness of this corner where the dread Cardinal seemed a name, andthe King's writ ran slowly, and the rebellion, long quenchedelsewhere, still smouldered. But Madame's pure faith, the youngerwoman's tenderness--how was I to face these?

  I cursed the Cardinal, I cursed the English fool who had brought me tothis, I cursed the years of plenty and scarceness and the QuartierMarais, and Zaton's, where I had lived like a pig, and--

  A touch fell on my arm. I turned. It was Clon. How he had stolen up soquietly, how long he had been at my elbow, I could not tell. But hiseyes gleamed spitefully in their deep sockets, and he laughed with hisfleshless lips; and I hated him. In the daylight the man looked morelike a death's-head than ever. I fancied I read in his face that heknew my secret, and I flashed into rage at sight of him.

  "What is it?" I cried, with another oath. "Don't lay your corpse-clawson me!"

  He mowed at me, and, bowing with ironical politeness, pointed to thehouse. "Is Madame served?" I said impatiently, crushing down my anger."Is that what you mean, fool?"

  He nodded.

  "Very well," I retorted. "I can find my way, then. You may go!"

  He fell behind, and I strode back through the sunshine and flowers,and along the grass-grown paths, to the door by which I had come. Iwalked fast, but his shadow kept pace with me, driving out the strangethoughts in which I had been indulging. Slowly but surely it darkenedmy mood. After all, this was a little, little place; the people wholived here--I shrugged my shoulders. France, power, pleasure, life layyonder in the great city. A boy might wreck himself here for a fancy;a man of the world, never. When I entered the room, where the twoladies stood waiting for me by the table, I was myself again.

  "Clon made you understand, then?" the younger woman said kindly.

  "Yes, Mademoiselle," I answered. On which I saw the two smile at oneanother, and I added: "He is a strange creature. I wonder you can bearto have him near you."

  "Poor man! You do not know his story?" Madame said.

  "I have heard something of it," I answered. "Louis told me."

  "Well, I do shudder at him, sometimes," she replied, in a low voice."He has suffered--and horribly, and for us. But I wish it had been onany other service. Spies are necessary things, but one does not wishto have to do with them! Anything in the nature of treachery is sohorrible."

  "Quick, Louis! the cognac, if you have any there!" Mademoiselleexclaimed. "I am sure you are--still feeling ill, Monsieur."

  "No, I thank you," I muttered hoarsely, making an effort to recovermyself. "I am quite well. It was an old wound that sometimes touchesme."