CHAPTER VIII.
AN EMPTY ROOM.
Desiring to start as early as possible, that we might reach Rosny onthe second evening, I roused Simon Fleix before it was light, andlearning from him where the horses were stabled, went out to attend tothem; preferring to do this myself, that I might have an opportunityof seeking out a tailor, and providing myself with clothes bettersuited to my rank than those to which I had been reduced of late. Ifound that I still had ninety crowns left of the sum which the King ofNavarre had given me, and twelve of these I laid out on a doublet ofblack cloth with russet points and ribands, a dark cloak lined withthe same sober colour, and a new cap and feather. The tradesman wouldfain have provided me with a new scabbard also, seeing my old one wasworn-out at the heel; but this I declined, having a fancy to go withmy point bare until I should have punished the scoundrel who had mademy mother's failing days a misery to her; a business which, the Kingof Navarre's once done, I promised myself to pursue with energy and atall costs.
The choice of my clothes, and a few alterations which it was necessaryto make in them, detained me some time, so that it was later than Icould have wished when I turned my face towards the house again, benton getting my party to horse as speedily as possible. The morning, Iremember, was bright, frosty, and cold; the kennels were dry, thestreets comparatively clean. Here and there a ray of early sunshine,darting between the overhanging eaves, gave promise of glorioustravelling-weather. But the faces, I remarked in my walk, did notreflect the surrounding cheerfulness. Moody looks met me everywhereand on every side; and while courier after courier galloped by mebound for the castle, the townsfolk stood aloof in doorways listlessand inactive, or, gathering in groups in corners, talked what I tookto be treason under the breath. The queen-mother still lived, butOrleans had revolted, and Sens and Mans, Chartres and Melun. Rouen wassaid to be wavering, Lyons in arms, while Paris had deposed her king,and cursed him daily from a hundred altars. In fine, the greatrebellion which followed the death of Guise, and lasted so many years,was already in progress; so that on this first day of the new year theking's writ scarce ran farther than he could see, peering anxiouslyout from the towers above my head.
Reaching the house, I climbed the long staircase hastily, abusing itsdarkness and foulness, and planning as I went how my mother might mosteasily and quickly be moved to a better lodging. Gaining the top ofthe last flight, I saw that mademoiselle's door on the left of thelanding was open, and concluding from this that she was up, and readyto start, I entered my mother's room with a brisk step and spiritsreinforced by the crisp morning air.
But on the threshold. I stopped, and stood silent and amazed. At firstI thought the room was empty. Then, at a second glance, I saw thestudent. He was on his knees beside the bed in the alcove, from whichthe curtain had been partially dragged away. The curtain before thewindow had been torn down also, and the cold light of day, pouring inon the unsightly bareness of the room, struck a chill to my heart. Astool lay overturned by the fire, and above it a grey cat, which I hadnot hitherto noticed, crouched on a beam and eyed me with stealthyfierceness. Mademoiselle was not to be seen, nor was Fanchette, andSimon Fleix did not hear me. He was doing something at the bed--for mymother it seemed.
'What is it, man?' I cried softly, advancing on tiptoe to the bedside.'Where are the others?'
The student looked round and saw me. His face was pale and gloomy. Hiseyes burned, and yet there were tears in them, and on his cheeks. Hedid not speak, but the chilliness, the bareness, the emptiness of theroom spoke for him, and my heart sank.
I took him by the shoulders. 'Find your tongue, man!' I said angrily.'Where are they?'
He rose from his knees and stood staring at me. 'They are gone!' hesaid stupidly.
'Gone?' I exclaimed. 'Impossible! When? Whither?'
'Half an hour ago. Whither--I do not know.'
Confounded and amazed, I glared at him between fear and rage. 'You donot know?' I cried. 'They are gone, and you do not know?'
He turned suddenly on me and gripped my arm. 'No, I do not know! I donot know!' he cried, with a complete change of manner and in a tone offierce excitement. 'Only, may the fiend go with them! But I do knowthis. I know this, M. de Marsac, with whom they went, these friends ofyours! A fop came, a dolt, a fine spark, and gave them fine words andfine speeches and a gold token, and, hey presto! they went, and forgotyou!'
'What!' I cried, beginning to understand, and snatching fiercely atthe one clue in his speech. 'A gold token? They have been decoyed awaythen! There is no time to be lost. I must follow.'
'No, for that is not all!' he replied, interrupting me sternly, whilehis grasp on my arm grew tighter and his eyes flashed as they lookedinto mine. 'You have not heard all. They have gone with one who calledyou an impostor, and a thief, and a beggar, and that to your mother'sface--and killed her! Killed her as surely as if he had taken a swordto her, M. de Marsac! Will you, after that, leave her for them?'
He spoke plainly. And yet, God forgive me, it was some time before Iunderstood him: before I took in the meaning of his words, or couldtransfer my thoughts from the absent to my mother lying on the bedbefore me. When I did do so, and turned to her, and saw her still faceand thin hair straggling over the coarse pillow, then, indeed, thesight overcame me. I thought no more of others--for I thought herdead; and with a great and bitter cry I fell on my knees beside herand hid my face. What, after all, was this headstrong girl to me? whatwere even kings and king's commissions to me beside her--beside theone human being who loved me still, the one being of my blood and nameleft, the one ever-patient, ever-constant heart which for years hadbeaten only for me? For a while, for a few moments, I was worthy ofher for I forgot all others.
Simon Fleix roused me at last from my stupor, making me understandthat she was not dead, but in a deep swoon, the result of the shockshe had undergone. A leech, for whom he had despatched a neighbour,came in as I rose, and taking my place, presently restored her toconsciousness. But her extreme feebleness warned me not to hope formore than a temporary recovery; nor had I sat by her long before Idiscerned that this last blow, following on so many fears andprivations, had reached a vital part, and that she was even now dying.
She lay for a while with her hand in mine and her eyes closed, butabout noon, the student, contriving to give her some broth, sherevived, and, recognising me, lay for more than an hour gazing at mewith unspeakable content and satisfaction. At the end of that time,and when I thought she was past speaking, she signed to me to bendover her, and whispered something, which at first I could not catch.Presently I made it out to be, 'She is gone--The girl you brought?'
Much troubled, I answered yes, begging her not to think about thematter. I need not have feared, however, for when she spoke again shedid so without emotion, and rather as one seeing clearly somethingbefore her.
'When you find her, Gaston,' she murmured, 'do not be angry with her.It was not her fault. She--he deceived her. See!'
I followed the direction rather of her eyes than her hand, and foundbeneath the pillow a length of gold chain. 'She left that?' Imurmured, a strange tumult of emotions in my breast.
'She laid it there,' my mother whispered. 'And she would have stoppedhim saying what he did'--a shudder ran through my mother's frame atthe remembrance of the man's words, though her eyes still gazed intomine with faith and confidence--'she would have stopped him, but shecould not, Gaston. And then he hurried her away.'
'He showed her a token, madame, did he not?' I could not for my liferepress the question, so much seemed to turn on the point.
'A bit of gold,' my mother whispered, smiling faintly. 'Now let mesleep.' And, clinging always to my hand, she closed her eyes.
The student came back soon afterwards with some comforts for which Ihad despatched him, and we sat by her until the evening fell, and farinto the night. It was a relief to me to learn from the leech that shehad been ailing for some time, and that in any case t
he end must havecome soon. She suffered no pain and felt no fears, but meeting my eyeswhenever she opened her own, or came out of the drowsiness whichpossessed her, thanked God, I think, and was content. As for me, Iremember that room became, for the time, the world. Its stillnessswallowed up all the tumults which filled the cities of France, andits one interest--the coming and going of a feeble breath--eclipsedthe ambitions and hopes of a lifetime.
Before it grew light Simon Fleix stole out to attend to the horses.When he returned he came to me and whispered in my ear that he hadsomething to tell me; and my mother lying in a quiet sleep at thetime, I disengaged my hand, and, rising softly, went with him to thehearth.
Instead of speaking, he held his fist before me and suddenly unclosedthe fingers. 'Do you know it?' he said, glancing at me abruptly.
I took what he held, and looking at it, nodded. It was a knot ofvelvet of a peculiar dark red colour, and had formed, as I knew themoment I set eyes on it, part of the fastening of mademoiselle's mask.'Where did you find it?' I muttered, supposing that he had picked itup on the stairs.
'Look at it!' he answered impatiently. 'You have not looked.'
I turned it over, and then saw something which had escaped me atfirst--that the wider part of the velvet was disfigured by a fantasticstitching, done very roughly and rudely with a thread of white silk.The stitches formed letters, the letters words. With a start I read,'_A moi!_' and saw in a corner, in smaller stitches, the initials 'C.d. l. V.'
I looked eagerly at the student. 'Where did you find this?' I said.
'I picked it up in the street,' he answered quietly, 'not threehundred paces from here.'
I thought a moment. 'In the gutter, or near the wall?' I asked.
'Near the wall, to be sure.'
'Under a window?'
'Precisely,' he said. 'You may be easy; I am not a fool. I marked theplace, M. de Marsac, and shall not forget it.'
Even the sorrow and solicitude I felt on my mother's behalf--feelingswhich had seemed a minute before to secure me against all other caresor anxieties whatever--were not proof against this discovery. For Ifound myself placed in a strait so cruel I must suffer either way. Onthe one hand, I could not leave my mother; I were a heartless ingrateto do that. On the other, I could not, without grievous pain, standstill and inactive while Mademoiselle de la Vire, whom I had sworn toprotect, and who was now suffering through my laches and mischance,appealed to me for help. For I could not doubt that this was what thebow of velvet meant; still less that it was intended for me, since fewsave myself would be likely to recognise it, and she would naturallyexpect me to make some attempt at pursuit.
And I could not think little of the sign. Remembering mademoiselle'sproud and fearless spirit, and the light in which she had alwaysregarded me, I augured the worst from it. I felt assured that noimaginary danger and no emergency save the last would have induced herto stoop so low; and this consideration, taken with the fear I feltthat she had fallen into the hands of Fresnoy, whom I believed to bethe person who had robbed me of the gold coin, filled me with ahorrible doubt which way my duty lay. I was pulled, as it were, bothways. I felt my honour engaged both to go and to stay, and while myhand went to my hilt, and my feet trembled to be gone, my eyes soughtmy mother, and my ears listened for her gentle breathing.
Perplexed and distracted, I looked at the student, and he at me. 'Yousaw the man who took her away,' I muttered. Hitherto, in my absorptionon my mother's account, I had put few questions, and let the matterpass as though it moved me little and concerned me less. 'What was helike? Was he a big, bloated man, Simon, with his head bandaged, orperhaps a wound on his face?'
'The gentleman who went away with mademoiselle, do you mean?' heasked.
'Yes, yes, gentleman if you like!'
'Not at all,' the student answered. 'He was a tall young gallant, verygaily dressed, dark-haired, and with a rich complexion. I heard himtell her that he came from a friend of hers too high to be named inpublic or in Blois. He added that he brought a token from him; andwhen mademoiselle mentioned you--she had just entered madame's roomwith her woman when he appeared----'
'He had watched me out, of course.'
'Just so. Well, when she mentioned you, he swore you were anadventurer, and a beggarly impostor, and what not, and bade her saywhether she thought it likely that her friend would have entrustedsuch a mission, to such a man.'
'And then she went with him?'
The student nodded.
'Readily? Of her own free-will?'
'Certainly,' he answered. 'It seemed so to me. She tried to preventhim speaking before your mother, but that was all.'
On the impulse of the moment I took a step towards the door;recollecting my position, I turned back with a groan. Almost besidemyself, and longing for any vent for my feelings, I caught the lad bythe shoulder, where he stood on the hearth, and shook him to and fro.
'Tell me, man, what am I to do?' I said between my teeth. 'Speak!think! invent something!'
But he shook his head.
I let him go with a muttered oath, and sat down on a stool by the bedand took my head between my hands. At that very moment, however,relief came--came from an unexpected quarter. The door opened and theleech entered. He was a skilful man, and, though much employed aboutthe Court, a Huguenot--a fact which had emboldened Simon Fleix toapply to him through the landlord of the 'Bleeding Heart,' the secretrendezvous of the Religion in Blois. When he had made his examinationhe was for leaving, being a grave and silent man, and full ofbusiness, but at the door I stopped him.
'Well, sir?' I said in a low tone, my hand on his cloak.
'She has rallied, and may live three days,' he answered quietly.'Four, it may be, and as many more as God wills.'
Pressing two crowns into his hand, I begged him to call daily, whichhe promised to do; and then he went. My mother was still dozingpeacefully, and I turned to Simon Fleix, my doubts resolved and mymind made up.
'Listen,' I said, 'and answer me shortly. We cannot both leave; thatis certain. Yet I must go, and at once, to the place where you foundthe velvet knot. Do you describe the spot exactly, so that I may findit, and make no mistake.'
He nodded, and after a moment's reflection answered,
'You know the Rue St. Denys, M. de Marsac? Well, go down it, keepingthe "Bleeding Heart" on your left. Take the second turning on the sameside after passing the inn. The third house from the corner, on theleft again, consists of a gateway leading to the Hospital of the HolyCross. Above the gateway are two windows in the lower story, and abovethem two more. The knot lay below the first window you come to. Do youunderstand?'
'Perfectly,' I said. 'It is something to be a clerk, Simon.'
He looked at me thoughtfully, but added nothing; and I was busytightening my sword-hilt, and disposing my cloak about the lower partof my face. When I had arranged this to my satisfaction, I took outand counted over the sum of thirty-five crowns, which I gave to him,impressing on him the necessity of staying beside my mother should Inot return; for though I proposed to reconnoitre only, and learn ifpossible whether mademoiselle was still in Blois, the future wasuncertain, and whereas I was known to my enemies, they were strangersto me.
Having enjoined this duty upon him, I bade my mother a silentfarewell, and, leaving the room, went slowly down the stairs, thepicture of her worn and patient face going with me, and seeming, Iremember, to hallow the purpose I had in my mind.
The clocks were striking the hour before noon as I stepped from thedoorway, and, standing a moment in the lane, looked this way and thatfor any sign of espionage. I could detect none, however. The lane wasdeserted; and feeling assured that any attempt to mislead myopponents, who probably knew Blois better than I did, must fail, Imade none, but deliberately took my way towards the 'Bleeding Heart,'in the Rue St. Denys. The streets presented the same appearance ofgloomy suspense which I had noticed on the previous day. The samegroups stood about in the same corners, the same suspicious glancesmet me in common with all
other strangers who showed themselves; thesame listless inaction characterised the townsfolk, the same anxioushurry those who came and went with news. I saw that even here, underthe walls of the palace, the bonds of law and order were strainedalmost to bursting, and judged that if there ever was a time in Francewhen right counted for little, and the strong hand for much, it wasthis. Such a state of things was not unfavourable to my presentdesign, and caring little for suspicious looks, I went resolutely onmy way.
I had no difficulty in finding the gateway of which Simon had spoken,or in identifying the window beneath which he had picked up the velvetknot. An alley opening almost opposite, I took advantage of this toexamine the house at my leisure, and remarked at once, that whereasthe lower window was guarded only by strong shutters, now open, thatin the story above was heavily barred. Naturally I concentrated myattention on the latter. The house, an old building of stone, seemedsufficiently reputable, nor could I discern anything about it whichwould have aroused my distrust had the knot been found elsewhere. Itbore the arms of a religious brotherhood, and had probably at one timeformed the principal entrance to the hospital, which still stoodbehind it, but it had now come, as I judged, to be used as a dwellingof the better class. Whether the two floors were separately inhabitedor not I failed to decide.
After watching it for some time without seeing anyone pass in or out,or anything occurring to enlighten me one way or the other, I resolvedto venture in, the street being quiet and the house giving no sign ofbeing strongly garrisoned. The entrance lay under the archway, througha door on the right side. I judged from what I saw that the porter wasprobably absent, busying himself with his gossips in matters of State.
And this proved to be the case, for when I had made the passage of thestreet with success, and slipped quietly in through the half-opendoor, I found only his staff and charcoal-pan there to represent him.A single look satisfied me on that point; forthwith, withouthesitation, I turned to the stairs and began to mount, assured that ifI would effect anything single-handed I must trust to audacity andsurprise rather than to caution or forethought.
The staircase was poorly lighted by loopholes looking towards therear, but it was clean and well-kept. Silence, broken only by thesound of my footsteps, prevailed throughout the house, and all seemedso regular and decent and orderly that the higher I rose the lowerfell my hopes of success. Still, I held resolutely on until I reachedthe second floor and stood before a closed door. The moment had cometo put all to the touch. I listened for a few seconds, but hearingnothing, cautiously lifted the latch. Somewhat to my surprise the dooryielded to my hand, and I entered.
A high settle stood inside, interrupting my view of the room, whichseemed to be spacious and full of rich stuffs and furniture, but lowin the roof, and somewhat dimly lighted by two windows rather widethan high. The warm glow of a fire shone on the woodwork of theceiling, and as I softly closed the door a log on the hearth gave way,with a crackling of sparks, which pleasantly broke the luxurioussilence. The next moment a low, sweet voice asked, 'Alphonse, is thatyou?'
I walked round the settle and came face to face with a beautiful womanreclining on a couch. On hearing the door open she had raised herselfon her elbow. Now, seeing a stranger before her, she sprang up with alow cry, and stood gazing at me, her face expressing both astonishmentand anger. She was of middling height, her features regular thoughsomewhat childlike, her complexion singularly fair. A profusion ofgolden hair hung in disorder about her neck, and matched the deep blueof her eyes, wherein it seemed to me, there lurked more spirit andfire than the general cast of her features led one to expect.
After a moment's silence, during which she scanned me from head tofoot with great haughtiness--and I her with curiosity and wonder--shespoke, 'Sir!' she said slowly, 'to what am I to attributethis--visit?'
For the moment I was so taken aback by her appearance andextraordinary beauty, as well as by the absence of any sign of those Isought, that I could not gather my thoughts to reply, but stoodlooking vaguely at her. I had expected, when I entered the room,something so different from this!
'Well, sir?' she said again, speaking sharply, and tapping her foot onthe floor.
'This visit, madame?' I stammered.
'Call it intrusion, sir, if you please!' she cried imperiously. 'Onlyexplain it, or begone.'
'I crave leave to do both, madame,' I answered, collecting myselfby an effort. 'I ascended these stairs and opened your door inerror--that is the simple fact--hoping to find a friend of mine here.I was mistaken, it seems, and it only remains for me to withdraw,offering at the same time the humblest apologies.' And as I spoke Ibowed low and prepared to retire.
'One moment, sir!' she said quickly, and in an altered tone. 'You are,perhaps, a friend of M. de Bruhl--of my husband. In that case, if youdesire to leave any message I will--I shall be glad to deliver it.'
She looked so charming that, despite the tumult of my feelings, Icould not but regard her with admiration. 'Alas! madame, I cannotplead that excuse,' I answered. 'I regret that I have not the honourof his acquaintance.'
She eyed me with some surprise. 'Yet still, sir,' she answered,smiling a little, and toying with a gold brooch which clasped herhabit, 'you must have had some ground, some reason, for supposing youwould find a friend here?'
'True, madame,' I answered, 'but I was mistaken.'
I saw her colour suddenly. With a smile and a faint twinkle of the eyeshe said, 'It is not possible, sir, I suppose--you have not come here,I mean, out of any reason connected with a--a knot of velvet, forinstance?'
I started, and involuntarily advanced a step towards her. 'A knot ofvelvet!' I exclaimed, with emotion. 'Mon Dieu! Then I was notmistaken! I have come to the right house, and you--you know somethingof this! Madame,' I continued impulsively, 'that knot of velvet? Tellme what it means, I implore you!'
She seemed alarmed by my violence, retreating a step or two, andlooking at me haughtily, yet with a kind of shamefacedness. 'Believeme, it means nothing,' she said hurriedly. 'I beg you to understandthat, sir. It was a foolish jest.'
'A jest?' I said. 'It fell from this window.'
'It was a jest, sir,' she answered stubbornly. But I could see that,with all her pride, she was alarmed; her face was troubled, and therewere tears in her eyes. And this rendered me under the circumstancesonly the more persistent.
'I have the velvet here, madame,' I said. 'You must tell me more aboutit.'
She looked at me with a weightier impulse of anger than she had yetexhibited. 'I do not think you know to whom you are speaking,' shesaid, breathing fast. 'Leave the room, sir, and at once! I have toldyou it was a jest. If you are a gentleman you will believe me, andgo.' And she pointed to the door.
But I held my ground, with an obstinate determination to pierce themystery. 'I am a gentleman, madame,' I said, 'and yet I must knowmore. Until I know more I cannot go.'
'Oh, this is insufferable!' she cried, looking round as if for a wayof escape; but; I was between her and the only door. 'This isunbearable! The knot was never intended for you, sir. And what ismore, if M. de Bruhl come and find you here, you will repent itbitterly.'
I saw that she was at least as much concerned on her own account as onmine, and thought myself justified under the circumstances in takingadvantage of her fears. I deliberately laid my cap on the table whichstood beside me. 'I will go, madame,' I said, looking at her fixedly,'when I know all that you know about this knot I hold, and not before.If you are unwilling to tell me, I must wait for M. de Bruhl, and askhim.'
She cried out 'Insolent!' and looked at me as if in her rage anddismay she would gladly have killed me; being, I could see, apassionate woman. But I held my ground, and after a moment she spoke.'What do you want to know?' she said, frowning darkly.
'This knot--how did it come to lie in the street below your window? Iwant to know that first.'
'I dropped it,' she answered sullenly.
'Why?' I said.
'Because----' And then she stopped
and looked at me, and then againlooked down, her face crimson. 'Because, if you must know,' shecontinued hurriedly, tracing a pattern on the table with her finger,'I saw it bore the words "_A moi_." I have been married only twomonths, and I thought my husband might find it--and bring it to me. Itwas a silly fancy.'
'But where did you get it? 'I asked, and I stared at her in growingwonder and perplexity. For the more questions I put, the further, itseemed to me, I strayed from my object.
'I picked it up in the Ruelle d'Arcy,' she answered, tapping her footon the floor resentfully. 'It was the silly thing put it into my headto--to do what I did. And now, have you any more questions, sir?'
'One only,' I said, seeing it all clearly enough. 'Will you tell me,please, exactly where you found it?'
'I have told you. In the Ruelle d'Arcy, ten paces from the Rue deValois. Now, sir, will you go?'
'One word, madame. Did----'
But she cried, 'Go, sir, go! go!' so violently, that after making onemore attempt to express my thanks, I thought it better to obey her. Ihad learned all she knew; I had solved the puzzle. But, solving it, Ifound myself no nearer to the end I had in view, no nearer tomademoiselle. I closed the door with a silent bow, and began todescend the stairs, my mind full of anxious doubts and calculations.The velvet knot was the only clue I possessed, but was I right inplacing any dependence on it? I knew now that, wherever it hadoriginally lain, it had been removed once. If once, why not twice? whynot three times?
Historical Romances: Under the Red Robe, Count Hannibal, A Gentleman of France Page 60
