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

by Stanley John Weyman

  CHAPTER XXX.

  STRICKEN.

  Outside the door, standing in the dimness of the landing, I found M.d'Agen. At any other time I should have been the first to ask him whyhe had left the post which I had assigned to him. But at the moment Iwas off my balance, and his presence suggested nothing more than thathere was the very person who could best execute my wishes. I held outthe key to him at arms length, and bade him release Mademoiselle de laVire, who was in the room above, and escort her out of the castle. 'Donot let her linger here,' I continued urgently. 'Take her to the placewhere we found the wood-cutters. You need fear no resistance.'

  'But Bruhl?' he said, as he took the key mechanically from me.

  'He is out of the question,' I answered in a low voice. 'We have donewith him. He has the plague.'

  He uttered a sharp exclamation. 'What of madame, then?' he muttered.

  'She is with him,' I said.

  He cried out suddenly at that, sucking in his breath, as I have knownmen do in pain. And but that I drew back he would have laid his handon my sleeve. 'With him?' he stammered. 'How is that?'

  'Why, man, where else should she be?' I answered, forgetting that thesight of those two together had at first surprised me also, as well asmoved me. 'Or who else should be with him? He is her husband.'

  He stared at me for a moment at that, and then he turned slowly awayand began to go up; while I looked after him, gradually thinking outthe clue to his conduct. Could it be that it was not mademoiselleattracted him, but Madame de Bruhl?

  And with that hint I understood it all. I saw in a moment theconclusion to which he had come on hearing of the presence of madamein my room. In my room at night! The change had dated from that time;instead of a careless, light-spirited youth he had become in a momenta morose and restive churl, as difficult to manage as an unbrokencolt. Quite clearly I saw now the meaning of the change; why he hadshrunk from me, and why all intercourse between us had been sodifficult and so constrained.

  I laughed to think how he had deceived himself, and how nearly I hadcome to deceiving myself also. And what more I might have thought I donot know, for my meditations were cut short at this point by a loudoutcry below, which, beginning in one or two sharp cries of alarm andwarning, culminated quickly in a roar of anger and dismay.

  Fancying I recognised Maignan's voice, I ran down the stairs,seeking a loophole whence I could command the scene; but findingnone, and becoming more and more alarmed, I descended to the court,which I found, to my great surprise, as empty and silent as an oldbattle-field. Neither on the enemy's side nor on ours was a single manto be seen. With growing dismay I sprang across the court and dartedthrough the outer tower, only to find that and the gateway equallyunguarded. Nor was it until I had passed through the latter, and stoodon the brow of the slope, which we had had to clamber with so muchtoil, that I learned what was amiss.

  Far below me a string of men, bounding and running at speed, streameddown the hill towards the horses. Some were shouting, some runningsilently, with their elbows at their sides and their scabbards leapingagainst their calves. The horses stood tethered in a ring near theedge of the wood, and by some oversight had been left unguarded. Theforemost runner I made out to be Fresnoy; but a number of his men wereclose upon him, and then after an interval came Maignan, waving hisblade and emitting frantic threats with every stride. Comprehending atonce that Fresnoy and his following, rendered desperate by panic andthe prospective loss of their horses, had taken advantage of myabsence and given Maignan the slip, I saw I could do nothing savewatch the result of the struggle.

  This was not long delayed. Maignan's threats, which seemed to me merewaste of breath, were not without effect on those he followed. Thereis nothing which demoralises men like flight. Troopers who have stoodcharge after charge while victory was possible will fly like sheep,and like sheep allow themselves to be butchered, when they have onceturned the back. So it was here. Many of Fresnoy's men were stoutfellows, but having started to run they had no stomach for fighting.Their fears caused Maignan to appear near, while the horses seemeddistant; and one after another they turned aside and made like rabbitsfor the wood. Only Fresnoy, who had taken care to have the start ofall, kept on, and, reaching the horses, cut the rope which tetheredthe nearest, and vaulted nimbly on its back. Safely seated there, hetried to frighten the others into breaking loose; but not succeedingat the first attempt, and seeing Maignan, breathing vengeance, comingup with him, he started his horse, a bright bay, and rode off laughingalong the edge of the wood.

  Fully content with the result--for our carelessness, might have costus very dearly--I was about to turn away when I saw that Maignan hadmounted and was preparing to follow. I stayed accordingly to see theend, and from my elevated position enjoyed a first-rate view of therace which ensued. Both were heavy weights, and at first Maignangained no ground. But when a couple of hundred yards had been coveredFresnoy had the ill-luck to blunder into some heavy ground, and thisenabling his pursuer, who had time to avoid it, to get withintwo-score paces of him, the race became as exciting as I could wish.Slowly and surely Maignan, who had chosen the Cid, reduced thedistance between them to a score of paces--to fifteen--to ten. ThenFresnoy, becoming alarmed, began to look over his shoulder and ride inearnest. He had no whip, and I saw him raise his sheathed sword, andstrike his beast on the flank. It sprang forward, and appeared for afew strides to be holding its own. Again he repeated the blow--butthis time with a different result. While his hand was still in theair, his horse stumbled, as it seemed to me, made a desperate effortto recover itself, fell headlong and rolled over and over.

  Something in the fashion of the fall, which reminded me of the mishapI had suffered on the way to Chize, led me to look more particularlyat the horse as it rose trembling to its feet, and stood with droopinghead. Sure enough, a careful glance enabled me, even at that distance,to identify it as Matthew's bay--the trick-horse. Shading my eyes, andgazing on the scene with increased interest, I saw Maignan, who haddismounted, stoop over something on the ground, and again after aninterval stand upright.

  But Fresnoy did not rise. Nor was it without awe that, guessing whathad happened to him, I remembered how he had used this very horse tobefool me; how heartlessly he had abandoned Matthew, its owner; and bywhat marvellous haps--which men call chances--Providence had broughtit to this place, and put it in his heart to choose it out of a scorewhich stood ready to his hand!

  I was right. The man's neck was broken. He was quite dead. Maignanpassed the word to one, and he to another, and so it reached me on thehill. It did not fail to awaken memories both grave and wholesome. Ithought of St. Jean d'Angely, of Chize, of the house in the Ruelled'Arcy; then in the midst of these reflections I heard voices, andturned to find mademoiselle, with M. d'Agen behind me.

  Her hand was still bandaged, and her dress, which she had not changedsince leaving Blois, was torn and stained with mud. Her hair was indisorder; she walked with a limp. Fatigue and apprehension had stolenthe colour from her cheeks, and in a word she looked, when I turned,so wan and miserable that for a moment I feared the plague had seizedher.

  The instant, however, that she caught sight of me a wave of colourinvaded, not her cheeks only, but her brow and neck. From her hair tothe collar of her gown she was all crimson. For a second she stoodgazing at me, and then, as I saluted her, she sprang forward. Had Inot stepped back she would have taken my hands.

  My heart so overflowed with joy at this sight, that in the certaintyher blush gave me I was fain to toy with my happiness. All jealousy ofM. d'Agen was forgotten; only I thought it well not to alarm her bytelling her what I knew of the Bruhls. 'Mademoiselle,' I saidearnestly, bowing, but retreating from her, 'I thank God for yourescape. One of your enemies lies helpless here, and another is deadyonder.'

  'It is not of my enemies I am thinking,' she answered quickly, 'but ofGod, of whom you rightly remind me; and then of my friends.'

  'Neverth
eless,' I answered as quickly, 'I beg you will not stay tothank them now, but go down to the wood with M. d'Agen, who will doall that may be possible to make you comfortable.'

  'And you, sir?' she said, with a charming air of confusion.

  'I must stay here,' I answered, 'for a while.'

  'Why?' she asked with a slight frown.

  I did not know how to tell her, and I began lamely. 'Someone must stopwith madame,' I said without thought.

  'Madame?' she exclaimed. 'Does she require assistance? I will stop.'

  'God forbid!' I cried.

  I do not know how she understood the words, but her face, which hadbeen full of softness, grew hard. She moved quickly towards me; but,mindful of the danger I carried about me, I drew farther back. 'Nonearer, mademoiselle,' I murmured, 'if you please.'

  She looked puzzled, and finally angry, turning away with a sarcasticbow. 'So be it, then, sir,' she said proudly, 'if you desire it. M.d'Agen, if you are not afraid of me, will you lead me down?'

  I stood and watched them go down the hill, comforting myself with thereflection that to-morrow, or the next day, or within a few days atmost, all would be well. Scanning her figure as she moved, I fanciedthat she went with less spirit as the space increased between us. AndI pleased myself with the notion. A few days, a few hours, I thought,and all would be well. The sunset which blazed in the west was no morethan a faint reflection of the glow which for a few minutes pervadedmy mind, long accustomed to cold prospects and the chill of neglect.

  A term was put to these pleasant imaginings by the arrival of Maignan;who, panting: from the ascent of the hill, informed me with ashamefaced air that the tale of horses was complete, but that four ofour men were missing, and had doubtless gone off with the fugitives.These proved to be M. d'Agen's two lackeys and the two varlets M. deRambouillet had lent us. There remained besides Simon Fleix onlyMaignan's three men from Rosny; but the state in which our affairs nowstood enabled us to make light of this. I informed the equerry--whovisibly paled at the news--that M. de Bruhl lay ill of the plague, andlike to die; and I bade him form a camp in the wood below, and,sending for food to the house where we had slept the night before,make mademoiselle as comfortable as circumstances permitted.

  He listened with surprise, and when I had done asked with concern whatI intended to do myself.

  'Someone must remain with Madame de Bruhl,' I answered. 'I havealready been to the bedside to procure the key of mademoiselle's room,and I run no farther risk. All I ask is that you will remain in theneighbourhood, and furnish us with supplies should it be necessary.'

  He looked at me with emotion, which, strongly in conflict with hisfears as it was, touched me not a little. 'But morbleu! M. de Marsac,'he said, 'you will take the plague and die.'

  'If God wills,' I answered, very lugubriously I confess, for palelooks in one commonly so fearless could not but depress me. 'But ifnot, I shall escape. Any way, my friend,' I continued, 'I owe you aquittance. Simon Fleix has an inkhorn and paper. Bid him bring them tothis stone and leave them, and I will write that Maignan, the equerryof the Baron de Rosny, served me to the end as a brave soldier and anhonest friend. What, _mon ami?_' I continued, for I saw that he wasovercome by this, which was, indeed, a happy thought of mine. 'Whynot? It is true, and will aquit you with the Baron. Do it, and go.Advise M. d'Agen, and be to him what you have been to me.'

  He swore two or three great oaths, such as men of his kind use to hidean excess of feeling, and after some further remonstrance went away tocarry out my orders; leaving me to stand on the brow in a strange kindof solitude, and watch horses and men withdraw to the wood, until thewhole valley seemed left to me and stillness and the grey evening. Fora time I stood in thought. Then reminding myself, for a fillip to myspirits, that I had been far more alone when I walked the streets ofSt. Jean friendless and threadbare (than I was now), I turned, andswinging my scabbard against my boots for company, stumbled throughthe dark, silent courtyard, and mounted as cheerfully as I could tomadame's room.

  To detail all that passed during the next five days would be tediousand in indifferent taste, seeing that I am writing this memoir for theperusal of men of honour; for though I consider the offices which thewhole can perform for the sick to be worthy of the attention of everyman, however well born, who proposes to see service, they seem to bemore honourable in the doing than the telling. One episode, however,which marked those days filled me then, as it does now, with the mostlively pleasure; and that was the unexpected devotion displayed bySimon Fleix, who, coming to me, refused to leave, and showed himselfat this pinch to be possessed of such sterling qualities that I freelyforgave him the deceit he had formerly practised on me. The fits ofmoody silence into which he still fell at times and an occasionalirascibility seemed to show that he had not altogether conquered hisinsane fancy; but the mere fact that he had come to me in a situationof hazard, and voluntarily removed himself from mademoiselle'sneighbourhood, gave me good hope for the future.

  M. de Bruhl died early on the morning of the second day, and Simon andI buried him at noon. He was a man of courage and address, lackingonly principles. In spite of madame's grief and prostration, whichwere as great as though she had lost the best husband in the world, weremoved before night to a separate camp in the woods; and left withthe utmost relief the grey ruin on the hill, in which, it seemed tome, we had lived an age. In our new bivouac, where, game beingabundant, and the weather warm, we lacked no comfort, except thesociety of our friends, we remained four days longer. On the fifthmorning we met the others of our company by appointment on the northroad, and commenced the return journey.

  Thankful that we had escaped contagion, we nevertheless still proposedto observe for a time such precautions in regard to the others asseemed necessary; riding in the rear and having no communication withthem, though they showed by signs the pleasure they felt at seeing us.From the frequency with which mademoiselle turned and looked behindher, I judged she had overcome her pique at my strange conduct; whichthe others should by this time have explained to her. Content,therefore, with the present, and full of confidence in the future, Irode along in a rare state of satisfaction; at one moment planningwhat I would do, and at another reviewing what I had done.

  The brightness and softness of the day, and the beauty of the woods,which in some places, I remember, were bursting into leaf, contributedmuch to establish me in this frame of mind. The hateful mist, whichhad so greatly depressed us, had disappeared; leaving the face of thecountry visible in all the brilliance of early spring. The men whorode before us, cheered by the happy omen, laughed and talked as theyrode, or tried the paces of their horses, where the trees grewsparsely; and their jests and laughter coming pleasantly to our earsas we followed, warmed even madame's sad face to a semblance ofhappiness.

  I was riding along in this state of contentment when a feeling offatigue, which the distance we had come did not seem to justify, ledme to spur the Cid into a brisker pace. The sensation of lassitudestill continued, however, and indeed grew worse; so that I wonderedidly whether I had over-eaten myself at my last meal. Then the thingpassed for a while from, my mind, which the descent of a steep hillsufficiently occupied.

  But a few minutes later, happening to turn in the saddle, Iexperienced a strange and sudden dizziness; so excessive as to forceme to grasp the cantle, and cling to it, while trees and hillsappeared to dance round me. A quick, hot pain in the side followed,almost before I recovered the power of thought; and this increased sorapidly, and was from the first so definite, that, with a dreadfulapprehension already formed in my mind, I thrust my hand inside myclothes, and found that swelling which is the most sure and deadlysymptom of the plague.

  The horror of that moment--in which I saw all those things on thepossession of which I had just been congratulating myself, passhopelessly from me, leaving me in dreadful gloom--I will not attemptto describe in this place. Let it suffice that the world lost in amoment its joyousness, the sunshine its warmth. The greenness andbeauty rou
nd me, which an instant before had filled me with pleasure,seemed on a sudden no more than a grim and cruel jest at my expense,and I an atom perishing unmarked and unnoticed. Yes, an atom, a mote;the bitterness of that feeling I well remember. Then, in no longtime--being a soldier--I recovered my coolness, and, retaining thepower to think, decided what it behoved me to do.