CHAPTER IX. THE CAPTIVES
Amid the sordid surroundings of Charlot's private quarters the Captainand the Deputy supped that evening. The supper sorted well with thehouse--a greasy, ill-cooked meal that proved little inviting to thesomewhat fastidious La Boulaye. But the wine, plundered, no doubt, incommon with the goblets out of which they drank it--was more than good,and whilst La Boulaye showed his appreciation of it, Charlot abused itlike a soldier. They sat facing each other across the little deal table,whose stains were now hidden by a cloth, and to light them they had fourtapers set in silver candlesticks of magnificent workmanship, and mostwondrous weight, which Tardivet informed his guest had been the propertyof a ci-devant prince of the blood.
As the night wore on Captain Charlot grew boisterous and moreconfidential. He came at length to speak of the last capture they hadmade.
"I have taken prizes, Caron," said he, "which a king might not despise.But to-day--" He raised his eyes to the ceiling and wagged his head.
"Well?" quoth La Boulaye. "What about to-day?"
"I have made a capture worth more than all the others put together. Itwas an indifferent-looking berline, and my men were within an ace ofallowing it to pass. But I have a nose, mon cher"--and he tapped theorgan with ludicrous significance--"and, bon Dieu, what affair! I cansmell an aristocrat a league off. Down upon that coach I swooped like ahawk upon a sparrow. Within it sat two women, thickly veiled, and I giveyou my word that in a sense I pitied them, for not a doubt of it, butthey were in the act of congratulating themselves upon their escape fromFrance. But sentiment may become fatal if permitted to interfere withenterprise. Stifling my regrets I desired them to alight, and they beingwise obeyed me without demur. I allowed them to retain their veils. Isought the sight of things other than women's faces, and a brief surveyof the coach showed me where to bestow my attention. I lifted the backseat. It came up like the lid of the chest it was, and beneath it Idiscovered enough gold and silver plate to outweigh in value almosteverything that I had ever taken. But that was by no means all. Underthe front seat there was a chest of gold--louis d'ors they were, sometwo or three thousand at least--and, besides that, a little iron-boundbox of gems which in itself was worth more than all the rest of thecontents of that treasure-casket of a coach. I tell you, Caron, Idropped the lid of that seat in some haste, for I was not minded thatmy men should become as wise as I. I stepped down and bade, the womenre-enter, and hither under strong escort I have brought them."
"And these treasures?" asked La Boulaye.
"They are still in the coach below, with the women. I have told thesethat they shall spend the night there. To-morrow I shall see to them andgive them their liberty--which is a more generous proceeding thanmight befall them at the hands of another. When they are gone comes thedivision of the spoil." He closed one eye slowly, in a very ponderouswink. "To my men I shall relegate the gold and silver plate as well asthe money. For myself I shall only retain the little iron-bound box. Myfollowers will account me more than generous and themselves more thansatisfied. As for me, La Boulaye--by St. Guillotine, I am tempted toemigrate also and set up as an aristocrat myself in Prussia or England,for in that little box there is something more than a fortune. I askedyou to-day whether you were minded to lay information against me inParis. My faith, I am little concerned whether you do or not, for Ithink that before you can reach Paris, Captain Charlot Tardivet will beno more than a name in the Republican army. Abroad I shall call myselfCharlot du Tardivet, and I shall sleep in fine linen and live ontruffles and champagne. Caron, your health!"
He drained his glass, and laughed softly to himself as he set it down.
"Do you trust your men?" asked La Boulaye.
"Eh? Trust them? Name of a name! They know me. I have placed the tenmost faithful ones on guard. They answer to the rest of us with theirnecks for the safety of their charge. Come hither, Caron."
He rose somewhat unsteadily, and lurched across to the window. LaBoulaye followed him, and gazing out under his indication, he beheld thecoach by the blaze of a fire which the men had lighted to keep them fromfreezing at their post.
"Does that look secure?"
"Why, yes--secure enough. But if those fellows were to take it intotheir heads that it would be more profitable to share the prize amongten than among sixty?"
"Secreanom!!" swore Charlot impatiently. "You do my wits poor credit.For what do you take me? Have I gone through so much, think you,without learning how little men are to be trusted? Faugh! Look at theporte-cochere. The gates are closed--aye, and locked, mon cher, andthe keys are here, in my pocket. Do you imagine they are to be brokenthrough without arousing anyone? And then, the horses. They are in thestables over there, and again, the keys are in my pocket. So that, yousee, I do not leave everything to the honesty of my ten most faithfulones."
"You have learned wisdom, not a doubt of it," laughed the Deputy.
"In a hard school, Caron," answered the Captain soberly. "Aye, name of aname, in a monstrous hard school."
He turned from the window, and the light of the tapers falling on hisface, showed it heavily scored with lines of pain, testifying to theugly memories which the Deputy's light words had evoked. Then suddenlyhe laughed, half-bitterly, half humourously.
"La, la!" said he. "The thing's past. Charlot Tardivet the bridegroom ofBellecour and Captain Charlot of Dumouriez' army are different men-verydifferent."
He strode back to the table, filled his goblet, and gulped down thewine. Then he crossed to the fire and stood with his back to La Boulayefor a spell. When next he faced his companion all signs of emotion hadcleared from his countenance. It was again the callous, reckless faceof Captain Charlot, rendered a trifle more reckless and a trifle morecallous by the wine-flush on his cheeks and the wine-glitter in his eye.
"Caron" said he, with a half-smile, "shall we have these ladies in tosupper?"
"God forbid!" ejaculated La Boulaye.
"Nay, but I will," the other insisted, and he moved across to thewindow.
As he passed him, La Boulaye laid a detaining hand upon his arm.
"Not that, Charlot," he begged impressively, his dark face very set."Plunder them, turn them destitute upon the world, if you will, butremember, at least, that they are women."
Charlot laughed in his face.
"It is something to remember, is it not? They remembered it of ourwomen, these aristocrats!"
There was so much ugly truth in the Captain's words, and such asuggestion of just, if bitter, retribution in his mental attitude, thatLa Boulaye released his arm, at a loss for further arguments wherewithto curb him.
"Paydi!" Charlot continued, "I have a mind for a frolic. Does notjustice give me the right to claim that these aristocrats shall amuseme?"
With an oath he turned abruptly, and pulled the casement open.
"Guyot!" he called, and a voice from below made answer to him.
"You will make my compliments to the citoyennes in the coach, Guyot, andtell them that the Citizen-captain Tardivet requests the honour of theircompany to supper."
Then he went to the door, and calling Dame Capoulade, he bade her settwo fresh covers; in which he was expeditiously obeyed. La Boulaye stoodby the fire, his pale face impassive now and almost indifferent. Charlotreturned to the window to learn from Guyot that the citoyennes thankedthe Citizen-captain, but that they were tired and sought to be excused,asking nothing better than to be allowed to remain at peace in theircarriage.
"Sacred name of a name!" he croaked, a trifle thickly, for the wine hehad taken was mastering him more and more. "Are they defying us? Sincethey will not accept an invitation, compel them to obey a command. Bringthem up at once, Guyot."
"At once, Captain," was the answer, and Guyot went about the business.
Charlot closed the window and approached the table.
"They are coquettish these scented dames," he mocked, as he pouredhimself out some wine. "You are not drinking Caron."
"It is perhaps wise that one
of us should remain sober," answered theDeputy quietly, for in spite of a certain sympathy with the feelings bywhich Charlot was actuated, he was in dead antipathy to this baiting ofwomen that seemed toward.
Charlot made no answer. He drained his goblet and set it down with abang. Then he flung himself into a chair, and stretching out his long,booted legs he began to hum the refrain of the "Marseillaise." Thus afew moments went by. Then there came a sound of steps upon the creakingstairs, and the gruff voice of the soldier urging the ladies to ascendmore speedily.
At last the door opened and two women entered, followed by Guyot.Charlot lurched to his feet.
"You have come, Mesdames," said he, forgetting the mode of addressprescribed by the Convention, and clumsily essaying to make a leg. "Bewelcome! Guyot, go to the devil."
For a moment or two after the soldier's departure the women remainedin the shadow, then, at the Captain's invitation, which they dared notdisobey, they came forward into the halo of candle-light. SimultaneouslyLa Boulaye caught his breath, and took a step forward. Then he drew backagain until his shoulders touched the overmantel and there he remained,staring at the newcomers, who as yet, did not appear to have observedhim.
They wore no headgear, and their scarfs were thrown back upon theirshoulders, revealing to the stricken gaze of La Boulaye the countenancesof the Marquise de Bellecour and her daughter.
And now, as they advanced into the light, Charlot recognised them too.In the act of offering a chair he stood, arrested, his eyes devouringfirst one, then the other of then, with a glance that seemed to havegrown oddly sobered. The flush died from his face, and his lips twitchedlike those of a man who seeks to control his emotions. Then slowly thecolour crept back into his cheeks, a curl of mockery appeared on thecoarse mouth, and the eyes beamed evilly.
They tense silence was broken by the bang with which he dropped thechair he had half raised. As he leaned forward now, La Boulaye read inhis face the thought that had leapt into the Captain's mind, and had itbeen a question of any woman other than Zuzanne de Bellecour, the Deputymight have indulged in the consideration of what a wonderful retributionwas there here. Into the hands of the man whose bride the Marquis deBellecour had torn from him were now delivered by a wonderful chancethe wife and daughter of that same Bellecour. And at Boisvert thisbriganding Captain was as much to-night the lord of life and death,and all besides, as had been the Marquis of Bellecour of old. Buthe pondered not these things, for all that the stern irony of thecoincidence did not escape him. That evil look in Charlot's eyes, thatsinister smile on Charlot's lips, more than suggested what manner ofvengeance the Captain would exact--and that, for the time, was matterenough to absorb the Deputy's whole attention.
And the women did not see him. They were too much engrossed in thefigure fronting them, and agonisedly, with cheeks white and bosomsheaving, they waited, in their dread suspense. At last, drawing himselfto the full of his stalwart height, the Captain laughed grimly andspoke.
"Mesdames," said he, his very tone an insult in its brutal derision,"we Republicans have abolished God, and until tonight I have held theRepublic right, arguing that if a God there was, His leanings mustbe aristocratic, since He never seemed to concern Himself with themisfortunes of the lowly-born. But tonight, mesdames, I know that theRepublic is at fault. There is a God--a God of justice and retribution,who has delivered you, of all people in the world, into my hands. Lookon me well, Ci-devant Marquise de Bellecour, and you, Mademoiselle deBellecour. Look in my face and see if you know me again. Not you. Younever heeded me as you rode by in those proud days. But heard you evertell of one Charlot Tardivet, a base vassal whose wife your husband,Madame, and your father, Mademoiselle, took from him on his bridal morn?Heard you ever tell of that poor girl--one Marie Tardivet--who died ofgrief as a consequence of that brutality? But no; such matters were tootrivial for your notice if you saw them, or for your memory if you everheard tell of them. What was the life of a peasant more than that ofany other animal of the land, that the concern of it should perturb thesereneness of your aristocratic being? Mesdames, that Charlot Tardivetam I; that Marie Tardivet was my wife. I knew not whom you were when Ibade you sup at my table but now that I know it--what do you look for atmy hands?"
It was the Marquise who answered him. She was deathly pale, and herwords came breathlessly: for all that their import was very bold.
"We look for the recollection that we are women and unless you are ascowardly as--"
"Citoyenne," he broke in harshly, answering her as he had answered LaBoulaye, "was my wife less a woman think you? Pah! There is yet anotherhere who was wronged," he announced, and he waved his hand in thedirection of La Boulaye, who stood, stiff and pale, by the hearth.
The women turned, and at sight of the Deputy a cry escaped Suzanne. Itwas a cry of hope, for here was one who would surely lend them aid. Itwas a fact, she thought, upon which the Captain had not counted. But LaBoulaye stood straight and cold, and not by so much as an inclination ofthe head did he acknowledge that grim introduction. Charlot, mistakingMademoiselle's exclamation, laughed softly.
"Well may you cry out, Citoyenne," said he, "for him I see yourecognise. He is the man who sought to rescue my wife from the clutchesof your lordly and most noble father. For his pains he was flogged untilthey believed him dead. Is it not very fitting that he should be with menow to receive you?"
"But he, at least, is in my debt," cried Mademoiselle, now making a stepforward, and sustained by an excitement born of hope. "Whatever may bemy father's sins, M. la Boulaye, at least, will not seek to visit themupon the daughter, for he owes his life to me, and he will not forgetthe debt."
Charlot's brows were suddenly knit with vexation. He half-turned to LaBoulaye, as if to speak; but ere he could utter a word--
"The debt has been paid, Citoyenne," said Caron impassively.
Before that cold answer, so coldly delivered, Mademoiselle recoiled.
"Paid!" she echoed mechanically.
"Aye, paid," he rejoined. "You claimed your brother's life in payment,and I gave it to you. Do you not think that we are quits? Besides,"he ended suddenly, "Captain Tardivet is the master here. Address yourappeals to him, Citoyenne."
With terror written on her face, she turned from him to meet the flushedcountenance of Charlot, who, with arms akimbo and his head on one side,was regarding her at once with mockery and satisfaction.
"What do you intend by us, Monsieur?" she questioned in a choking voice.
He smiled inscrutably.
"Allay your fears, Citoyenne; you will find me very gentle."
"I knew you would prove generous," she cried.
"But, yes, Citoyenne," he rejoined, in the tones we employ to those whofear unreasonably. "I shall prove generous; as generous as--as was mylord your father."
La Boulaye trembled, but his face remained calmly expressionless as hewatched that grim scene.
"Monsieur!" Suzanne cried out in horror.
"You will not dare, you scum!" blazed the Marchioness.
Charlot shrugged his shoulders and laughed, whereupon Madame deBellecour seemed to become a being transformed. Her ample flesh, whichbut a moment back had quivered in fear, quivered now more violentlystill in anger. The colour flowed back into her cheeks until they flamedan angry crimson, and her vituperations rang in so loud and fierce avoice that at last, putting his hands to his ears, Charlot crossed tothe door.
"Silence!" he roared at her, so savagely that her spirit forsook heron the instant. "I will put an end to this," he swore, as he opened thedoor. "Hold there! Is Guyot below?"
"Here, Captain," came a voice.
Charlot retraced his steps, leaving the door wide, his eyes dwellingupon Suzanne until she shrank under its gaze, as she might have donefrom the touch of some unclean thing. She drew near to her mother, inwhom the brief paroxysm of rage was now succeeded by a no less violentparoxysm of weeping. On the stairs sounded Guyot's ascending steps.
"Mother," whispered Suzanne, setting her arm
s about her in a vainattempt to comfort. Then she heard Charlot's voice curtly bidding Guyotto reconduct the Marquise to her carriage.
Madame de Bellecour heard it also, and roused herself once more.
"I will not go," she stormed, anger flashing again from the tear-ladeneyes. "I will not leave my daughter."
Charlot shrugged his shoulders callously.
"Take her away, Guyot," he said, shortly, and the sturdy soldier obeyedhim with a roughness that took no account of either birth or sex.
When the Marquise's last scream had died away in the distance, Charlotturned once more to Suzanne, and it seemed that he sought to composehis features into an expression of gentleness beyond their ruggedlimitations. But the glance of his blue eyes was kind, and mistakingthe purport of that kindness, Mademoiselle began an appeal to his betterfeelings.
Straight and tall, pale and delicate she stood, her beauty rendered,perhaps, the more appealing by virtue of the fear reflected on hercountenance. Her blue eyes were veiled behind their long black lashes,her lips were tremulous, and her hands clasped and unclasped as she nowmade her prayer to the Republican. But in the hardened heart of Charlotno breath of pity stirred. He beheld her beauty and he bethought him ofhis wrongs. For the rest, perhaps, had she been less comely he had beenless vengeful.
And yonder by the hearth stood La Boulaye like a statue, unmoved andimmovable. The Captain was speaking to her, gently and soothingly, buther thoughts became more taken with the silence of La Boulaye than withthe speech of Charlot. Even in that parlous moment she had leisure todespise herself for having once--on the day on which, in answer to herintercessions, he had spared her brother's life--entertained a kindly,almost wistful, thought concerning this man whom she now deemed adastard.
The Trampling of the Lilies Page 9
