CHAPTER XXXII.
THE ORDEAL BY STEEL.
The women for the most part fell like sacks and slept where theyalighted, dead weary. The men, when they had cared for the horses,followed the example; for Badelon would suffer no fire. In less thanhalf an hour, a sentry who stood on guard at the edge of the wood, andTignonville and La Tribe, who talked in low voices with their backsagainst a tree, were the only persons who remained awake, with theexception of the Countess. Carlat had made a couch for her, andscreened it with cloaks from the wind and the eye; for the moon hadrisen, and where the trees stood sparsest its light flooded the soilwith pools of white. But Madame had not yet retired to her bed. Thetwo men, whose voices reached her, saw her from time to time movingrestlessly to and fro between the road and the little encampment.Presently she came and stood over them.
"He led His people out of the wilderness," La Tribe was saying; "outof the trouble of Paris, out of the trouble of Angers, and always,always southward. If you do not in this, monsieur, see His finger----"
"And Angers?" Tignonville struck in, with a faint sneer. "Has He ledthat out of trouble? A day or two ago you would risk all to save it,my friend. Now, with your back safely turned on it, you think all forthe best."
"We did our best," the minister answered humbly. "From the day we metin Paris we have been but instruments."
"To save Angers?"
"To save a remnant."
On a sudden the Countess raised her hand. "Do you not hear horses,monsieur?" she cried. She had been listening to the noises of thenight, and had paid little heed to what the two were saying.
"One of ours moved," Tignonville answered listlessly. "Why do you notlie down, madame?"
Instead of answering, "Whither is he going?" she asked. "Do you know?"
"I wish I did know," the young man answered peevishly. "To Niort, itmay be. Or presently he will double back and recross the Loire."
"He would have gone by Cholet to Niort," La Tribe said. "The directionis rather that of Rochelle. God grant we be bound thither!"
"Or to Vrillac," the Countess cried, clasping her hands in thedarkness. "Can it be to Vrillac he is going?"
The minister shook his head.
"Ah, let it be to Vrillac!" she cried, a thrill in her voice. "Weshould be safe there. And he would be safe."
"Safe?" echoed a fourth and deeper voice. And out of the darknessbeside them loomed a tall figure.
The minister looked and leapt to his feet. Tignonville rose moreslowly.
The voice was Tavannes' "And where am I to be safe?" he repeatedslowly, a faint ring of saturnine amusement in his tone.
"At Vrillac," she cried. "In my house, monsieur."
He was silent a moment. Then, "Your house, madame? In which directionis it, from here?"
"Westwards," she answered impulsively, her voice quivering witheagerness and emotion and hope. "Westwards, monsieur--on the sea. Thecauseway from the land is long, and ten can hold it against tenhundred."
"Westwards? And how far westwards?"
Tignonville answered for her; in his tone throbbed the same eagerness,the same anxiety, which spoke in hers. Nor was Count Hannibal's eardeaf to it. "Through Challans," he said, "thirteen leagues."
"From Clisson?"
"Yes, Monsieur le Comte."
"And by Commequiers less," the Countess cried.
"No, it is a worse road," Tignonville answered quickly; "and longer intime."
"But we came----"
"At our leisure, madame. The road is by Challans, if we wish to bethere quickly."
"Ah!" Count Hannibal said. In the darkness it was impossible to seehis face or mark how he took it. "But being there, I have few men."
"I have forty will come at call," she cried with pride. "A word tothem, and in four hours or a little more----"
"They would outnumber mine by four to one," Count Hannibal answeredcoldly, drily, in a voice like ice-water flung in their faces. "Thankyou, madame; I understand. To Vrillac is no long ride; but we will notride it at present." And he turned sharply on his heel and strode fromthem.
He had not covered thirty paces before she overtook him in the middleof a broad patch of moonlight and touched his arm. He wheeled swiftly,his hand half-way to his hilt. Then he saw who it was. "Ah," he said,"I had forgotten, madame. You have come----"
"No!" she cried passionately; and standing before him she shook backthe hood of her cloak that he might look into her eyes. "You owe me noblow to-day. You have paid me, monsieur. You have struck me already,and foully, like a coward. Do you remember," she continued rapidly,"the hour after our marriage, and what you said to me? Do you rememberwhat you told me? And whom to trust and whom to suspect, where lay ourinterest and where our foes? You trusted me then! What have I donethat you now dare--ay, dare, monsieur," she repeated fearlessly, herface pale and her eyes glittering with excitement, "to insult me? Thatyou treat me as--Javette? That you deem me capable of _that?_ Ofluring you into a trap, and in my own house, or the house that wasmine, of----"
"Treating me as I have treated others."
"You have said it!" she cried. She could not herself understand whyhis distrust had wounded her so sharply, so home, that all fear of himwas gone. "You have said it, and put that between us which will not beremoved. I could have forgiven blows," she continued, breathless inher excitement, "so you had thought me what I am. But now you will dowell to watch me! You will do well to leave Vrillac on one side. Forwere you there, and raised your hand against me--not that that touchesme, but it will do--and there are those, I tell you, would fling youfrom the tower at my word."
"Indeed?"
"Ay, indeed! And indeed, monsieur!"
Her face was in moonlight, his was in shadow.
"And this is your new tone, madame, is it?" he said, slowly and aftera pregnant pause. "The crossing of a river has wrought so great achange in you?"
"No!" she cried.
"Yes," he said. And despite herself she flinched before the grimnessof his tone. "You have yet to learn one thing, however: that I do notchange. That, north or south, I am the same to those who are the sameto me. That what I have won on the one bank I will hold on the other,in the teeth of all, and though God's Church be thundering on myheels! I go to Vrillac----"
"You--go?" she cried. "You go?"
"I go," he repeated, "to-morrow. And among your own people I will seewhat language you will hold. While you were in my power I spared you.Now that you are in your own land, now that you lift your hand againstme, I will show you of what make I am. If blows will not tame you, Iwill try that will suit you less. Ay, you wince, madame! You had donewell had you thought twice before you threatened, and thrice beforeyou took in hand to scare Tavannes with a parcel of clowns andfisherfolk. Tomorrow, to Vrillac and your duty! And one word more,madame," he continued, turning back to her truculently when he hadgone some paces from her. "If I find you plotting with your lover bythe way I will hang not you, but him. I have spared him a score oftimes; but I know him, and I do not trust him."
"Nor me," she said, and with a white, set face she looked at him inthe moonlight. "Had you not better hang me now?"
"Why?"
"Lest I do you an injury!" she cried with passion; and she raised herhand and pointed northward. "Lest I kill you some night, monsieur! Itell you, a thousand men on your heels are less dangerous than thewoman at your side--if she hate you."
"Is it so?" he cried. His hand flew to his hilt; his dagger flashedout. But she did not move, did not flinch, only she set her teeth; andher eyes, fascinated by the steel, grew wider.
His hand sank slowly. He held the weapon to her, hilt foremost; shetook it mechanically. "You think yourself brave enough to kill me, doyou?" he sneered. "Then take this, and strike, if you dare. Takeit--strike, madame! It is sharp, and my arms are open." And heflung them wide, standing within a pace of her. "Here, above thecollar-bone, is the surest for a weak hand. What, afraid?" hecontinued, as, s
tiffly clutching the weapon which he had put into herhand, she glared at him, trembling and astonished. "Afraid, and aVrillac! Afraid, and 'tis but one blow! See, my arms are open. Oneblow home, and you will never lie in them. Think of that. One blowhome, and you may lie in his. Think of that! Strike, then, madame," hewent on, piling taunt on taunt, "if you dare, and if you hate me.What, still afraid! How shall I give you heart? Shall I strike you? Itwill not be the first time by ten. I keep count, you see," hecontinued mockingly. "Or shall I kiss you? Ay, that may do. And itwill not be against your will, either, for you have that in your handwill save you in an instant. Even"--he drew a foot nearer--"now!Even----" And he stooped until his lips almost touched hers.
She sprang back. "Oh, do not!" she cried. "Oh, do not!" And, droppingthe dagger, she covered her face with her hands, and burst intoweeping.
He stooped coolly, and, after groping some time for the poniard, drewit from the leaves among which it had fallen. He put it into thesheath, and not until he had done that did he speak. Then it was witha sneer. "I have no need to fear overmuch," he said. "You are a poorhater, madame. And poor haters make poor lovers. 'Tis his loss! If youwill not strike a blow for him, there is but one thing left. Go, dreamof him!"
And shrugging his shoulders contemptuously he turned on his heel.
Historical Romances: Under the Red Robe, Count Hannibal, A Gentleman of France Page 47
