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

by Stanley John Weyman

  CHAPTER X.

  MADAME ST. LO.

  So far excitement had supported Tignonville in his escape. It was onlywhen he knew himself safe, when he heard Madame St. Lo's footstep inthe courtyard and knew that in a moment he would see her, that he knewalso that he was failing for want of food. The room seemed to go roundwith him; the window to shift, the light to flicker. And then again,with equal abruptness, he grew strong and steady and perfectly masterof himself. Nay, never had he felt a confidence in himself sooverwhelming or a capacity so complete. The triumph of that which hehad done, the knowledge that of so many he, almost alone, had escaped,filled his brain with a delicious and intoxicating vanity. When thedoor opened, and Madame St. Lo appeared on the threshold, he advancedholding out his arms. He expected that she would fall into them.

  But Madame only backed and curtseyed, a mischievous light in her eyes."A thousand thanks, Monsieur!" she said, "but you are more ready thanI!" And she remained by the door.

  "I have come to you through all!" he cried, speaking loudly because ofa humming in his ears. "They are lying in the streets! They are dying,are dead, are hunted, are pursued, are perishing! But I have comethrough all to you!"

  She curtseyed anew. "So I see, Monsieur!" she answered. "I amnattered!" But she did not advance, and gradually, light-headed as hewas, he began to see that she looked at him with an odd closeness. Andhe took offence.

  "I say, Madame, I have come to you!" he repeated. "And you do not seempleased!"

  She came forward a step and looked at him still more oddly. "Oh, yes,"she said. "I am pleased, M. de Tignonville. It is what I intended. Buttell me how you have fared. You are not hurt?"

  "Not a hair!" he cried boastfully. And he told her in a dozen windysentences of the adventure of the hay-cart and his narrow escape. Hewound up with a foolish meaningless laugh.

  "Then you have not eaten for thirty-six hours?" she said. And when hedid not answer, "I understand," she continued, nodding and speaking asto a child. And she rang a silver handbell and gave an order. Sheaddressed the servant in her usual tone, but to Tignonville's ear hervoice seemed to fall to a whisper. Her figure--she was small andfairy-like--began to sway before him; and then in a moment, as itseemed to him, she was gone, and he was seated at a table, histrembling fingers grasping a cup of wine which the elderly servant whohad admitted him was holding to his lips. On the table before him werea spit of partridges and a cake of white bread. When he had swalloweda second mouthful of wine--which cleared his eyes as by magic--the manurged him to eat. And he fell to with an appetite that grew as he ate.

  By and by, feeling himself again, he became aware that two of Madame'swomen were peering at him through the open doorway. He looked that wayand they fled giggling into the court; but in a moment they were backagain, and the sound of their tittering drew his eyes anew to thedoor. It was the custom of the day for ladies of rank to wait on theirfavourites at table; and he wondered if Madame were with them, and whyshe did not come and serve him herself.

  But for a while longer the savour of the roasted game took up themajor part of his thoughts; and when prudence warned him to desist,and he sat back, satisfied after his long fast, he was in no moodto be critical. Perhaps--for somewhere in the house he heard alute--Madame was entertaining those whom she could not leave? Ordeluding some who might betray him if they discovered him?

  From that his mind turned back to the streets and the horrors throughwhich he had passed; but for a moment and no more. A shudder, anemotion of prayerful pity, and he recalled his thoughts. In the quietof the cool room, looking on the sunny, vine-clad court, with thetinkle of the lute and the murmurous sound of women's voices in hisears, it was hard to believe that the things from which he had emergedwere real. It was still more unpleasant, and as futile, to dwell onthem. A day of reckoning would come, and, if La Tribe were right, thecause would rally, bristling with pikes and snorting with war-horses,and the blood spilled in this wicked city would cry aloud forvengeance. But the hour was not yet. He had lost his mistress, and forthat atonement must be exacted. But in the present another mistressawaited him, and as a man could only die once, and might die at anyminute, so he could only live once and in the present. Then _vogue lagalere!_

  As he roused himself from this brief reverie and fell to wondering howlong he was to be left to himself, a rosebud tossed by an unseen handstruck him on the breast and dropped to his knees. To seize it andkiss it gallantly, to spring to his feet and look about him wereinstinctive movements. But he could see no one; and, in the hope ofsurprising the giver, he stole to the window. The sound of the luteand the distant tinkle of laughter persisted. The court, save for apage, who lay asleep on a bench in the gallery, was empty. Tignonvillescanned the boy suspiciously; a male disguise was often adopted by thecourt ladies, and if Madame would play a prank on him, this was athing to be reckoned with. But a boy it seemed to be, and after awhile the young man went back to his seat.

  Even as he sat down, a second flower struck him more sharply in theface, and this time he darted not to the window but to the door. Heopened it quickly and looked out, but again he was too late.

  "I shall catch you presently, _ma reine!_" he murmured tenderly, withintent to be heard. And he closed the door. But, wiser this time, hewaited with his hand on the latch until he heard the rustling of askirt, and saw the line of light at the foot of the door darkened by ashadow. That moment he flung the door wide, and, clasping the wearerof the skirt in his arms, kissed her lips before she had time toresist.

  Then he fell back as if he had been shot! For the wearer of the skirt,she whom he had kissed, was Madame St. Lo's woman, and behind herstood Madame herself, laughing, laughing, laughing with all the gayabandonment of her light little heart. "Oh, the gallant gentleman!"she cried, and clapped her hands effusively. "Was ever recovery sorapid? Or triumph so speedy? Suzanne, my child, you surpass Venus.Your charms conquer before they are seen!"

  M. de Tignonville had put poor Suzanne from him as if she burned; andhot and embarrassed, cursing his haste, he stood looking awkwardly atthem. "Madame," he stammered at last, "you know quite well that I----"

  "Seeing is believing!"

  "That I thought it was you!"

  "Oh, what I have lost!" she replied. And she looked archly at Suzanne,who giggled and tossed her head.

  He was growing angry. "But, Madame," he protested, "you know----"

  "I know what I know, and I have seen what I have seen!" Madameanswered merrily. And she hummed,

  "Ce fut le plus grand jour d'este Que m'embrassa la belle Suzanne!

  "Oh, yes, I know what I know!" she repeated. And she fell again tolaughing immoderately; while the pretty piece of mischief beside herhung her head, and, putting a finger in her mouth, mocked him with anaffectation of modesty.

  The young man glowered at them between rage and embarrassment. Thiswas not the reception, nor this the hero's return to which he hadlooked forward. And a doubt began to take form in his mind. Themistress he had pictured would not laugh at kisses given to another;nor forget in a twinkling the straits through which he had come toher, the hell from which he had plucked himself! Possibly the courtladies held love as cheap as this, and lovers but as playthings, buttsfor their wit, and pegs on which to hang their laughter. But--but hebegan to doubt, and, perplexed and irritated, he showed his feelings.

  "Madame," he said stiffly, "a jest is an excellent thing. But pardonme if I say that it is ill played on a fasting man."

  Madame desisted from laughter that she might speak. "A fasting man?"she cried. "And he has eaten two partridges!"

  "Fasting from love, Madame."

  Madame St. Lo held up her hands. "And it's not two minutes since hetook a kiss!"

  He winced, was silent a moment, and then seeing that he got nothing bythe tone he had adopted he cried for quarter. "A little mercy, Madame,as you are beautiful," he said, wooing her with his eyes. "Do notplague me bey
ond what a man can bear. Dismiss, I pray you, this goodcreature--whose charms do but set off yours as the star leads the eyeto the moon--and make me the happiest man in the world by so much ofyour company as you will vouchsafe to give me."

  "That may be but a very little," she answered, letting her eyes fallcoyly, and affecting to handle the tucker of her low ruff. But he sawthat her lip twitched; and he could have sworn that she mocked him toSuzanne, for the girl giggled.

  Still by an effort he controlled his feelings. "Why so cruel?" hemurmured, in a tone meant for her alone, and with a look to match."You were not so hard when I spoke with you in the gallery, twoevenings ago, Madame."

  "Was I not?" she asked. "Did I look like this? And this?" And,languishing, she looked at him very sweetly after two fashions.

  "Something."

  "Oh, then I meant nothing!" she retorted with sudden vivacity. And shemade a face at him, laughing under his nose. "I do that when I meannothing, Monsieur! Do you see? But you are Gascon, and given, I fear,to flatter yourself."

  Then he saw clearly that she played with him: and resentment, chagrin,pique got the better of his courtesy. "I flatter myself?" he cried,his voice choked with rage. "It may be I do now, Madame, but did Iflatter myself when you wrote me this note?" And he drew it out andflourished it in her face. "Did I imagine when I read this? Or is itnot in your hand? It is a forgery, perhaps," he continued bitterly."Or it means nothing? Nothing, this note bidding me be at Madame St.Lo's at an hour before midnight--it means nothing? At an hour beforemidnight, Madame!"

  "On Saturday night? The night before last night?"

  "On Saturday night, the night before last night! But Madame knowsnothing of it? Nothing, I suppose?"

  She shrugged her shoulders and smiled cheerfully on him. "Oh, yes, Iwrote it," she said. "But what of that, M. de Tignonville?"

  "What of that?"

  "Yes, Monsieur, what of that? Did you think it was written out of lovefor you?"

  He was staggered for the moment by her coolness. "Out of what, then?"he cried hoarsely. "Out of what, then, if not out of love?"

  "Why, out of pity, my little gentleman!" she answered sharply. "Andtrouble thrown away it seems. Love!" And she laughed so merrily andspontaneously it cut him to the heart. "No; but you said a daintything or two, and smiled a smile; and like a fool, and like a woman, Iwas sorry for the innocent calf that bleated so prettily on its way tothe butcher's! And I would lock you up and save your life, I thought,until the blood-letting was over. Now you have it, M. de Tignonville,and I hope you like it."

  Like it, when every word she uttered stripped him of the selfishillusions in which he had wrapped himself against the blasts ofill-fortune? Like it, when the prospect of her charms had bribed himfrom the path of fortitude, when for her sake he had been false to hismistress, to his friends, to his faith, to his cause? Like it, when heknew as he listened that all was lost, and nothing gained--not eventhis poor, unworthy, shameful compensation? Like it? No wonder thatwords failed him, and he glared at her in rage, in misery, in shame.

  "Oh, if you don't like it," she continued, tossing her head after amomentary pause, "then you should not have come! It is of no profit toglower at me, Monsieur. You do not frighten me."

  "I would--I would to God I had not come!" he groaned.

  "And, I dare say, that you had never seen me--since you cannot winme!"

  "That too," he exclaimed.

  She was of an extraordinary levity, and at that after staring at him amoment she broke into shrill laughter. "A little more, and I'll sendyou to my cousin Hannibal!" she said. "You do not know how anxious heis to see you. Have you a mind," with a waggish look, "to play bride'sman, M. de Tignonville? Or will you give away the bride? It is not toolate, though soon it will be!"

  He winced, and from red grew pale. "What do you mean?" he stammered.And, averting his eyes in shame, seeing now all the littleness, allthe baseness of his position, "Has he--married her?" he continued.

  "Ho, ho!" she cried in triumph. "I've hit you now, have I, Monsieur?I've hit you!" And mocking him, "Has he--married her?" she lisped."No; but he will marry her, have no fear of that! He will marry her.He waits but to get a priest. Would you like to see what he says?" shecontinued, playing with him as a cat plays with a mouse. "I had a notefrom him yesterday. Would you like to see how welcome you'll be at thewedding?" And she flaunted a piece of paper before his eyes.

  "Give it me," he said.

  She let him seize it the while she shrugged her shoulders. "It's youraffair, not mine," she said. "See it if you like, and keep it if youlike. Cousin Hannibal wastes few words."

  That was true, for the paper contained but a dozen or fifteen words,and an initial by way of signature. "I may need your shovelingto-morrow afternoon. Send him, and Tignonville in safeguard if hecome.--H."

  "I can guess what use he has for a priest," she said. "It is not toconfess him, I warrant. It's long, I fear, since Hannibal told hisbeads."

  M. de Tignonville swore. "I would I had the confessing of him!" hesaid between his teeth.

  She clapped her hands in glee. "Why should you not?" she cried. "Whyshould you not? 'Tis time yet, since I am to send to-day and have notsent. Will you be the shaveling to go confess or marry him?" And shelaughed recklessly. "Will you, M. de Tignonville? The cowl will maskyou as well as another, and pass you through the streets better than acut sleeve. He will have both his wishes, lover and clerk in one then.And it will be pull monk, pull Hannibal with a vengeance."

  Tignonville gazed at her, and as he gazed courage and hope awoke inhis eyes. What if, after all, he could undo the past? What if, afterall, he could retrace the false step he had taken, and place himselfagain where he had been--by her side? "If you meant it!" he exclaimed,his breath coming fast. "If you only meant what you say, Madame."

  "If?" she answered, opening her eyes. "And why should I not mean it?"

  "Because," he replied slowly, "cowl or no cowl, when I meet yourcousin----"

  "'Twill go hard with him?" she cried, with a mocking laugh. "And youthink I fear for him. That is it, is it?"

  He nodded.

  "I fear just _so much_ for him!" she retorted with contempt. "Just somuch!" And coming a step nearer to Tignonville she snapped her smallwhite fingers under his nose. "Do you see? No, M. de Tignonville," shecontinued, "you do not know Count Hannibal if you think that he fears,or that any fear for him. If you will beard the lion in his den, therisk will be yours, not his!"

  The young man's face glowed. "I take the risk!" he cried. "And I thankyou for the chance; that, Madame, whatever betide. But----"

  "But what?" she asked, seeing that he hesitated and that his facefell.

  "If he afterwards learn that you have played him a trick," he said,"will he not punish you?"

  "Punish me?"

  He nodded.

  Madame laughed her high disdain. "You do not yet know Hannibal deTavannes," she said. "He does not war with women."