The Trampling of the Lilies
Page 15
CHAPTER XV. LA BOULAYE BAITS HIS HOOK
For fully an hour after their prisoners had been removed La Boulayepaced the narrow limits of the kitchen with face inscrutable and busymind. He recalled what Suzanne had said touching her betrothal toOmbreval, whom she looked to meet at Treves. This miserable individual,then, was the man for whose sake she had duped him. But Ombreval atleast was in Caron's power, and it came to him now that by virtue ofthat circumstance he might devise a way to bring her back without theneed to go after her. He would send her word--aye, and proof--that hehad taken him captive, and it should be hers to choose whether she wouldcome to his rescue and humble herself to save him or leave him to hisfate. In that hour it seemed all one to La Boulaye which course shefollowed, since by either, he reasoned, she must be brought tosuffer. That he loved her was with him now a matter that had sunk intocomparative insignificance. The sentiment that ruled his mind was anger,with its natural concomitant--the desire to punish.
And when morning came the Deputy's view of the situation was stillunchanged. He was astir at an early hour, and without so much aswaiting to break his fast, he bade Garin bring in the prisoners. Theirappearance was in each case typical. Ombreval was sullen and his dressuntidy, even when allowance had been made for the inherent untidiness ofthe Republican disguise which he had adopted to so little purpose. DesCadoux looked well and fresh after his rest, and gave the Deputy an airy"Good morning" as he entered. He had been at some pains, too, with histoilet, and although his hair was slightly disarranged and most of thepowder was gone from the right side, suggesting that he had lain on it,his appearance in the main was creditably elegant.
"Citizen Ombreval," said La Boulaye, in that stern, emotionless voicethat was becoming characteristic of him, "since you have acquaintedyourself with the contents of the letter you stole from the man youmurdered, you cannot be in doubt as to my intentions concerning you."
The Vicomte reddened with anger.
"For your intentions I care nothing," he answered hotly--rendered verybrave by passion--"but I will have you consider your words. Do you saythat I stole and murdered? You forget, M. le Republican, that I am agentlemen."
"Meaning, of course, that the class that so described itself could dothese things with impunity without having them called by their propernames, is it not so? But you also forget that the Republic has abolishedgentlemen, and with them, their disgraceful privileges."
"Canaille!" growled the Vicomte, his eyes ablaze with wrath.
"Citizen-aristocrat, consider your words!" La Boulaye had stepped closeup to him, and his voice throbbed with a sudden anger no whit lesscompelling than Ombreval's. "Fool! let me hear that word again, appliedeither to me or to any of my followers, and I'll have you beaten like adog."
And as the lesser ever does give way before the greater, so now didthe anger that had sustained Ombreval go down and vanish before theoverwhelming passion of La Boulaye. He grew pale to the lips at theDeputy's threat, and his eyes cravenly avoided the steady gaze of hiscaptor.
"You deserve little consideration at my hands, Citizen," said LaBoulaye, more quietly, "and yet I have a mind to give you a lesson ingenerosity. We start for Paris in half-an-hour. If anywhere you shouldhave friends expecting you, whom you might wish to apprise of yourposition, you may spend the half-hour that is left in writing to them. Iwill see that your letter reaches its destination."
Ombreval's pallor seemed to intensify. His eyes looked troubled asthey were raised to La Boulaye's. Then they fell again, and there was apause. At last--.
"I shall be glad to avail myself of your offer," he said, in a voicethat for meekness was ludicrously at variance with his late utterances.
"Then pray do so at once." And La Boulaye took down an inkhorn a quill,and a sheaf of paper from the mantel-shelf behind him. These he placedon the table, and setting a chair, he signed to the aristocrat to beseated.
"And now, Citizen Cadoux," said La Boulaye, turning to the old nobleman,"I shall be glad if you will honour me by sharing my breakfast whileCitizen Ombreval is at his writing."
Des Cadoux looked up in some surprise.
"You are too good, Monsieur," said he, inclining his head. "Butafterwards?"
"I have decided," said La Boulaye, with the ghost of a smile, "to dealwith your case myself, Citizen."
The old dandy took a deep breath, but the glance of his blue eyes wassteadfast, and his lips smiled as he made answer:
"Again you are too good. I feared that you would carry me to Paris,and at my age the journey is a tiresome one. I am grateful, andmeanwhile,--why, since you are so good as to invite me, let usbreakfast, by all means."
They sat down at a small table in the embrasure of the window, and theirhostess placed before them a boiled fowl, a dish of eggs, a stew ofherbs, and a flask of red wine, all of which La Boulaye had bidden herprepare.
"Why, it is a feast," declared Des Cadoux, in excellent humour, and forall that he was under the impression that he was to die in half-an-hourhe ate with the heartiest good-will, chatting pleasantly the while withthe Republican--the first Republican with whom it had ever been hisaristocratic lot to sit at table. And what time the meal proceededOmbreval--with two soldiers standing behind his chair-penned his letterto Mademoiselle de Bellecour.
Had La Boulaye--inspired by the desire to avenge himself for thetreachery of which he had been the victim--dictated that epistle, tcould not have been indicted in a manner better suited to his ends.It was a maudlin, piteous letter, in which, rather than making hisfarewells, the Vicomte besought the aid of Suzanne. He was, he wrote,in the hands of men who might be bribed, and since she was rich--for heknew of the treasure with which she had escaped--he based his hopes uponher employing a portion of her riches to obtaining his enlargement. She,he continued, was his only hope, and for the sake of their love, forthe sake of their common nobility, he besought her not to fail him now.Carried away by the piteousness of his entreaties the tears welled up tohis eyes and trickled down his cheeks, one or two of them finding theirway to the paper thus smearing it with an appeal more piteous still ifpossible than that of his maudlin words.
At last the letter was ended. He sealed it with a wafer and wrote thesuperscription:
"To Mademoiselle de Bellecour. At the 'Hotel des Trois Rois,' Treves."
He announced the completion of his task, and La Boulaye bade him gojoin Des Cadoux at the next table and take some food before setting out,whilst the Deputy himself now sat down to write.
"Citoyenne," he wrote, "the man to whom you are betrothed, for whosesake you stooped to treachery and attempted murder, is in my hands. Thushas Heaven set it in my power to punish you, if the knowledge that hetravels to the guillotine is likely to prove a punishment. If you wouldrescue him, come to me in Paris, and, conditionally, I may give you hislife."
That, he thought should humble her. He folded his letter roundOmbreval's and having sealed the package, he addressed it as Ombrevalhad addressed his own missive.
"Garin," he commanded briefly, "remove the Citizen Ombreval."
When he had been obeyed, and Garin had conducted the Vicomte from theroom, La Boulaye turned again to Des Cadoux. They were alone, saving thetwo soldiers guarding the door.
The old man rose, and making the sign of the cross, he stepped forward,calm and intrepid of bearing.
"Monsieur," he announced to La Boulaye, who was eyeing him with thefaintest tinge of surprise, "I am quite ready."
"Have you always been so devout, Citizen?" inquired the Deputy.
"Alas! no Monsieur. But there comes a time in the life of every manwhen, for a few moments at least, he is prone to grow mindful of thelessons learnt in childhood."
The surprise increased in La Boulaye's countenance. At last he shruggedhis shoulders, after the manner of one who abandons a problem that hasgrown too knotty.
"Citizen des Cadoux," said he, "I have deliberated that since I havereceived no orders from Paris concerning you, and also since I am not byprofession a catch-
poll there is no reason whatever why I shouldcarry you to Paris. In fact, Citizen, I know of no reason why I shouldinterfere with your freedom at all. On the contrary when I recall thekindness you sought to do me that day, years ago, at Bellecour, I findevery reason why I should further your escape from the Revolutionarytribunal. A horse, Citizen, stands ready saddled for you, and you arefree to depart, with the one condition, however, that you will consentto become my courier for once, and carry a letter for me--a matter whichshould occasion you, I think, no deviation from your journey."
The old dandy, in whose intrepid spirit the death which he had believedimminent had occasioned no trembling, turned pale as La Boulaye ceased.His blue eyes were lifted almost timidly to the Deputy's face, and hislip quivered.
"You are not going to have me shot, then?" he faltered.
"Shot?" echoed La Boulaye, and then he remembered the precise words ofthe request which Des Cadoux had preferred the night before, but which,at the time, he had treated lightly. "Ma foi, you do not flatter me!" hecried. "Am I a murderer, then? Come, come, Citizen, here is the letterthat you are to carry. It is addressed to Mademoiselle de Bellecour, atTreves, and encloses Ombreval's farewell epistle to that lady."
"But, gladly, Monsieur," exclaimed Des Cadoux.
And then, as if to cover his sudden access of emotion, of which he wasmost heartily ashamed, he fumbled for his snuff-box, and, having foundit, he took an enormous pinch.
They parted on the very best of terms did these two--the aristocrat andthe Revolutionary--actuated by a mutual esteem tempered in each casewith gratitude.
When at last Des Cadoux had taken a sympathetic leave of Ombreval anddeparted, Caron ordered the Vicomte to be brought before him again, andat the same time bade his men make ready for the road.
"Citizen," said La Boulaye, "we start for Paris at once. If you willpass me your word of honour to attempt no escape you shall travel withus in complete freedom and with all dignity."
Ombreval looked at him with insolent surprise, his weak superciliousmouth growing more supercilious even than its wont. He had recovered agood deal of his spirit by now.
"Pass you my word of honour?" he echoed. "Mon Dieu! my good fellow aword of honour is a bond between gentlemen. I think too well of mine topass it to the first greasy rascal of the Republic that asks it of me."
La Boulaye eyed him a second with a glance before which the aristocratgrew pale, and already regretted him of his words. The veins in theDeputy's temples were swollen.
"I warned you," said he, in a dull voice. Then to the soldiers standingon either side of Ombreval--"Take him out," he said, "mount him onhorseback. Let him ride with his hands pinioned behind his back, and hisfeet lashed together under the horse's belly. Attend to it!"
"Monsieur," cried the young man, in an appealing voice, "I will give youmy word of honour not to escape. I will--"
"Take him out," La Boulaye repeated, with a dull bark of contempt. "Youhad your chance, Citizen-aristocrat."
Ombreval set his teeth and clenched his hands.
"Canaille!" he snarled, in his fury.
"Hold!" Caron called after the departing men.
They obeyed, and now this wretched Vicomte, of such unstable spiritdropped all his anger again, as suddenly as he had caught it up. Fearpaled his cheek and palsied his limbs once more, for La Boulaye'sexpression was very terrible.
"You know what I said that I would have done to you if you used thatword again?" La Boulaye questioned him coldly.
"I--I was beside myself, Monsieur," the other gasped, in the intensityof his fear. And at the sight of his pitiable condition the anger fellaway from La Boulaye, and he smiled scornfully.
"My faith," he sneered. "You are hot one moment and cold the next.Citizen, I am afraid that you are no better than a vulgar coward. Takehim away," he ended, waving his hand towards the door, and as he watchedthem leading him out he reflected bitterly that this was the man to whomSuzanne was betrothed--the man whom, not a doubt of it, she loved, sincefor him she had stooped so low. This miserable craven she preferred tohim, because the man, so ignoble of nature, was noble by the accident ofbirth.
PART III. THE EVERLASTING RULE
Love rules the court, the camp, the grove, And men below and saints above, For love is Heaven and Heaven is love.
--The Lay of the Last Minstrel.