CHAPTER VIII.
MATHILDE
Well, there was no indication to be found in the Countess's apartmentsas to where she had removed to, and I thought it best not to risk beingseen there. So I went down to the hall again. As I glanced through thecourt-yard to the outer gates, I thought of trying to leave the chateau,to see if my new liberty went so far as to permit that. But I reflectedthat if I were once let out I might not be let in again, and my chanceof learning what had become of the Countess lay, I supposed, inside thechateau. So I resolved to stay there and await the turn that mattersmight take. And certainly never was any man a guest in strangercircumstances of guestship. I hated and feared my host, and was loth toaccept his hospitality, yet stayed of my own will, though I knew notcertainly whether I was free to go. My host hated me, yet tolerated mypresence--if indeed he would not have enforced it--for the sake ofhaving me at hand if he thought fit to crush me. When he appeared thatmorning, I thanked him ironically for restoring me to liberty. He onlyuttered his harsh crackling laugh in reply, and regarded me with apretended disdain which failed to conceal his hatred and his longing topenetrate my mind and learn what indeed was between me and his Countess.In such men, especially when they have an evil suggester like theCaptain at their ear, jealousy is a madness, and no assurances--nay, noteven oaths--of innocence will be taken by them as truth. But his pridemade him feign contempt for me, and he had nothing to say to me thatday. Neither had the Captain, whose manner toward me merely reverted towhat it had been at first. I saw my former place made ready at thetable, and took it. The Count and his friend talked of their sports andthe affairs of the estate, and not one word of the Countess was spoken.Having eaten, they went off to ride, leaving me to amuse myself as Imight. The air of the chateau seemed the freer for their absence, butstill it was to me a sinister place, and an irreligious place too, for,though the Count and his friend were Catholics, I had not seen the signof a chaplain or of any religious observance since I had crossed thedrawbridge. So I prepared myself for a dull yet anxious day, and loungedabout the hall and court-yard as the places where I might best hope tofind out something from the domestics of the house.
As I paced the stones of the court-yard, I became aware that a certainmaidservant had been obtruding upon my view with a persistency thatmight be intentional. I now regarded her, as she stood in a smalldoorway leading to the kitchen. She was a plump, well-made thing, with awholesome, honest face, but the sluttishness of her loose frock, and ofa great cap that hung over her eyes, were too suggestive of thescullery. As soon as she saw I noticed her, she put one finger on herlip, and swiftly beckoned me with another.
I strolled carelessly over, and stopped within a foot of her, pretendingto readjust my sword-belt.
"Monsieur," she said in an undertone, "you are desired to be in yourchamber this afternoon at four o'clock."
I glanced at the girl in wonder.
"That is all at present," she whispered. I had the discretion to moveon. There were, as usual, several armed fellows idling about thecourt-yard, but none seemed to have observed that any word had passedbetween the kitchen-maid and me.
Here was matter for astonishment and conjecture for the next few hours.In some manner or other, those hours passed, and at four I was seated inmy chamber, having left the door open an inch or so. The turret clockhad scarce done striking when the door was pushed wide; somebody enteredand instantly closed it. I had a brief feeling of disappointment as Isaw the slovenly frock and overhanging cap of the kitchen-maid. Was itshe, then, who paid me the compliment of this clandestine visit?
No; for the cap was swiftly flung back from the brow, and there was thebright and comely face of Mathilde. I uttered her name in pleasedsurprise.
"Yes," she said quickly, "Mathilde in the guise of Brigitte. I have comefrom Madame the Countess."
"And where is she?" I asked eagerly.
"In the great tower."
"A prisoner?"
"Yes, and I with her. Fortunately there was nothing else to do with me,unless they killed me. So I am able to attend her."
"Faithful Mathilde! But why is this?"
"It is the fulfilment of the Count's threat in case Madame could notclear herself of that false charge."
"But the Count knew that Monsieur de Merri was coming here. I told him."
"Yes, Monsieur, but the Count would believe as much of your story asCaptain Ferragant would choose to let him. Your very interest inMadame's fate has been new food for his jealousy."
"God forbid!"
"It is not your fault, Monsieur; it is the Count's madness. He locks hiswife up, as much that she may be inaccessible to you and all other men,as because of anything concerning Monsieur de Merri."
"You may well call it his madness."
"Yes; for, whatever other ladies may have deserved who have been treatedthus, the Countess is the most virtuous of wives. Her regard for hermarriage vows--in spite of the husband she has--is a part of herreligion. But his mind is poisoned. He naturally believes that a youngand beautiful woman would not be faithful to an old wolf like him. Andhe is almost right, for there is only one young and beautiful woman inFrance who would be, and that is the Countess."
"Surely not because she loves him?"
"Oh, no. It is because of her religion. She was brought up at a conventschool, and when the Count offered to marry her, the Mother Superiormade her think it her duty and heaven's will that she should accept thehigh position, where her piety would shine so much further: and havingbecome his wife, she would die rather than violate a wife's duties by ahair's breadth. But what is her reward? Not because he lovesher--there's more love in a stone!--but because he can't endure thethought of any trespass on what is his--because he dreads being made ajeer of--he goes mad with jealousy and suspicion. He imitates the Princeof Conde by locking his wife up in a tower."
"But this cannot last forever."
"No, Monsieur, and for a very good reason--the Countess's life cannotlast forever under this treatment--even if the Count, in some wildimagining of her guilt, conjured up by Captain Ferragant, does notmurder her. It's that thought which makes me shudder. It could be doneso quietly in that lonely cell, and any account of her death could begiven out to avoid scandal."
"Horrible, Mathilde! He would not go to that length."
"Men have done so. You are a stranger, and have not seen the frenziesinto which the Count sometimes works himself, torturing his mind byimagining actions of infidelity on her part."
"But that disease of his mind will wear itself out; then he will seematters more sanely."
"Will he grow better, do you think, as he grows older, and drinks morewine, and falls more under the influence of the red Captain?"
To say truth, I thought as Mathilde did, though I had spoken otherwisefor mere form of reassurance.
"What is her prison like?" I asked.
"A gloomy room no larger that this, with a single small window. There isno panelling nor tapestry nor plaster--nothing but the bare stones.There are a bed for Madame, a cot for me, a table, and two chairs:nothing else to make it look like a human habitation, save ourcrucifixes, an image of the Virgin, a trunk, and Madame's book ofHours."
"A small window, you say. Is it barred?"
"No; but our room is very high up in the tower."
"Still, if one got through the window--is it large enough for that?"
"One might get through; but the moat is beneath--far beneath."
"The window looks toward Montoire, then, if the moat is beneath."
"Yes; we can see the sunset."
"At all events, a person dropping from the window would alight outsidethe walls of the chateau?"
"Yes, Monsieur,--in the moat, as I said. It would be a long drop, too. Idon't know how high up the room is. It seems a great many steps up thewinding stairs before one comes to the landing before the door."
"Is it at the top of the tower, then?"
"No; for beyond our door the stairs begin again, and they seem to
windmore steeply."
"You noticed the sunset. Then you must have been there yesterdayevening."
"Yes; we were taken there shortly after noon yesterday. That was thelimit to the time given the Countess in which to prove her innocence.She was summoned to the picture gallery by the Count himself, and nobodyelse was there but Captain Ferragant. The door was closed against me,and what passed between that saint and those two devils I know not; butafter a little the door was opened, and there she was, very pale andwith her eyes raised in prayer. The Count, who was blue withvindictiveness, told me to get together what things Madame should order;and when that was done, he bade us follow, and led the way down to thecourt-yard and to the tower, the Captain walking behind. As we climbedthose narrow winding steps, I wished the Count might trip in thehalf-darkness and break his neck, but alas, it was only poor Madame whostumbled now and then. The Count showed us into the room, alreadyfurnished for us, and waited till a man had brought the trunk in which Ihad put some of Madame's clothes. The Count left without a word, and weheard the door locked outside. At first I thought we were to be left tostarve, but after some hours the door was unlocked by a man on guardoutside, and Brigitte appeared with our supper. She told us she was tocome twice a day with our food, and for other necessary services. Andwhen she came again this morning, I had planned how I should manage tosee you."
"You are as clever as you are true, Mathilde."
"Fortunately Brigitte looks such a simple, witless creature that the manon guard on the landing has not thought to pry while she has been withus, and has allowed the door to be shut. He cannot then see in, as thegrated opening has been closed, out of regard to Madame's sex. So thismorning I got Brigitte's consent to my plan, for the poor girl is thesoftest-hearted creature in the world. And to make sure of finding youimmediately when I got out, I charged her to tell you to be in your roomat four o'clock."
"Which she did very adroitly."
"She is not such a fool as some take her for. Well, when she came to usawhile ago, I transferred this frock and cap from her to me, and had hercall out to the guard that she had forgotten something and must returnto the kitchen for it. 'Very well, beauty,' said the guard ironically,and I came out in a great hurry, and was on my way downstairs before hecould take a second look at me. The landing is a dark place, and myfigure so much like Brigitte's that her clothes make it look quite thesame. There is another man on guard, at the bottom of the stairs, but hewas as easily deceived as the one above. I ran across the twocourt-yards, and through the kitchen passage to the servants' stairs,and nobody glanced twice at me. Brigitte, of course, must stay withMadame till I return,--and now, Monsieur, it is time I was back, and Ihave said nothing of what I came to say."
"You have said much that is important. But 'tis true, you'd best say therest quickly,--your return may be dangerous enough."
"Oh, I shall go so fast that nobody will have time to suspect me. As forthe guards, it is their duty to keep me in. Should they see it is I whowas out, they will be very glad to have me in again, and to hold theirtongues, for the Count's punishments are not light. But as to Madame'smessage--she would have tried to convey it by Brigitte, had I notdeclared I would come at all hazards,--for the truth is, I havesomething to say on my own responsibility, also."
"But Madame's message?" I demanded eagerly.
"She begs that you will go away while you can. So brave a younggentleman should not stay here to risk the Count's vengeance."
I felt joy at this concern for my safety.
"If I am a brave man," I answered, "I can only stay and help her."
"I am glad you are of that mind, Monsieur, for it is what I think. Thatis what _I_ had to say to you."
"Then the only question is, how can I be of use to the Countess? Shemust be released from this imprisonment."
"There I agree with you again. She ought to be taken away--far out ofreach of the Count's vengeance--before he has time to make her plightworse than it is, or carry out any design against her life. But even ifshe remained as she is, her health would not long endure it."
"Now that matters have come to this pass, no doubt she is willing to runaway."
"Not yet, Monsieur. That is for me to persuade her. But if we form someplan of escape now, I hope I can win her consent before the time comesto carry it out."
"I trust so. When she repelled the idea of escape, the day I saw her inthe garden, things had not gone so far. And then she thought there wasno safe place of refuge for her. But I can find a place. And she thoughtan attempt must be hopeless because the Count would be swift to pursue.But if we got some hours' start, going at night--"
"Yes, certainly it will have to be at night, Monsieur. The Count has theroads watched from the tower, for some purpose of his own--I think heexpects some enemy."
"You still have the key to the postern?"
"It must be where I left it--buried under the rose-bush nearest thepostern itself. But the first thing is, to get out of the room in thetower."
"Certainly. It would not be possible for Madame to get out as you havedone--by a disguise, I mean?"
"No, Monsieur. Brigitte is the only one who comes to us, with whom shemight change clothes. And Madame is not at all of Brigitte's figure--norcould she mimic Brigitte's walk as I can. She could not act a part inthe slightest degree. And I know that Madame would never consent to goand leave me behind to bear the Count's wrath. We must all three gotogether. Besides Brigitte comes and goes in the daytime, and Madamemust escape at night."
"Yes, that is certain. It is hard to devise a plan in a moment. If Icould think of it over night, and you come to me again to-morrow--butno, you may not be able to play this same trick again--the guards maydetect you going back."
"That is true, and I have thought of one plan, though it may bedifficult."
"Let me hear it, nevertheless."
"Then listen, Monsieur. First, as to the door of our cell. It is lockedwith a key, which the Count himself retains, except when he goes out, asthis afternoon,--it is then entrusted to the seneschal. I know this fromBrigitte, for the key is given to her when she comes to us. She hands itto the guard on the landing, who opens the door and keeps the key whileshe is within. When she leaves us, he locks the door, and she takes thekey back to the Count or seneschal. But in order to release Madame, youmust have that key."
"And how am I to get it?"
"After Brigitte's last visit to us before the night we select, she willgive the Count or seneschal, not the real key to our cell, but anotherof the same size and general shape--she has access to unimportant keysabout the house. Then she will bring the real key to you."
"But poor Brigitte!--when the Count investigates in the morning, he willfind she has given him the wrong key."
Mathilde thought a moment. "No; he will rather suppose you robbed him ofthe right key during the night and substituted the other to delaydiscovery. He will suspect anything rather than Brigitte, whom he thinkstoo great a fool for the least craft; and even if she is accused, shecan play the innocent. I assure you."
"So much for that, then. There is yet the door of entrance to thetower."
"At present it has an old broken key in the lock, which is thereforeuseless. But no doubt that will be remedied--so we must act soon.Meanwhile, that door is guarded by the man at the foot of the stairs."
"But are the two guards on duty at night also? There is no Brigitte tobe let in and out then. And surely the Count doesn't think you can breakyour lock."
"There are guards on duty, nevertheless. Last night I heard one calldown the stairs to another, asking the time. They are there, no doubt,not for fear of our breaking out, but for fear of somebody breaking into help Madame. I don't suppose there are ever more than two. If therule has not been changed, the rest of the household sleeps, except aporter in the gate-house and a man on top of the tower. But this manwatches the roads, as well as he can in the darkness, and the porter toois more concerned about people who might want to enter the chateau thanabout what goe
s on inside. So in the dead of night you can go silentlydownstairs and let yourself out of the hall--"
"But is not the hall door locked with a key?"
"Yes; but the key is left always in the lock. You have then only tocross the two court-yards to the lower, without making any noise toalarm the porter at the gate-house or to warn the guard at the towerentrance."
"Will he be inside or outside the tower door, I wonder?"
"Probably inside, where there is a bench just at the foot of the stairs.He and his comrade above will be your only real difficulty, Monsieur. Ifyou can take them by surprise, one at a time--"
"One at a time, or two at a time," said I, beginning to walk up and downthe chamber, and grasping my sword and dagger. "But the trouble will be,the noise that may be made when I encounter them,--it may arouse thechateau and spoil all."
"But heaven may grant that you will surprise the men inside the tower,one at the foot of the stairs, the other on our landing, as they musthave been last night. In that case, if you can keep the fighting insidethe tower, till--"
"Till they are dead. Yes, in that case, if I am expeditious, no noisemay be heard outside. That is a thing to aim for. If they, or one,should be outside, I can rush in and so draw them after me. Well, andwhen I have done for them--?"
"Then you have but to unlock our door, and Madame and I will joinyou.--You will know our door by there being a stool in the landingbefore it--the guard sits there.--Well, then we must fly silentlythrough the court-yards and the hall, let ourselves out to theterrace--there are two or three ways I know,--and run through the gardento the postern. Once out of these walls, we must hurry across the fieldsto the house of a certain miller--"
"Hugues? Yes."
"Yes, Monsieur. The watchman on the tower will not see us in the fields,for we shall keep close to the woods till we are at a distance. Huguescan supply two horses, at least, and you and Madame must be as far awayas possible by daylight."
"And you, Mathilde?"
"Unless we can get three horses, I will lie hid at Hugues's mill tillMadame finds time to send for me. It will be suitable enough--Hugues andI are to be married some day."
"But I have a horse at the inn at Montoire. If I can get it out at thathour, you can come with us--to whatever place we may decide upon."
"As to that place, you may consider in the meanwhile. There will be timeto discuss the matter with Madame when she is escaping with you. Thefirst thing is, to get as far from Lavardin as possible. And now when isall this to be done?"
"The sooner the better, for who knows when the Count may take into hishead some new idea?"
"Yes, of harm to Madame or to yourself."
"Why should we not choose this very night?"
"I see no reason against it--except that I may not be able to persuadeMadame. But yet there will be several hours--and surely heaven will helpme!--Yes, to-night! There is nothing for me to do but persuade Madame,and see that we are dressed as suitably for travel as the clothes athand will permit. But first, before Brigitte comes away, I must instructher about the key. At what hour will you come, Monsieur?"
"As soon as the house is asleep."
"Fortunately, early hours are kept here, as there is never any company.But the Count and the Captain stay at their cups till ten or eleveno'clock."
"Then by that time they must have drunk enough to make them fall asleepas soon as they are in bed."
"And sometimes before they are in bed, I have heard the servants say."
"Then I will leave my room at half-past eleven, but will make sure thatthe hall is dark and empty before I proceed."
"And may the saints aid you, Monsieur, when you have to do with the menat the tower!"
"The men will not be expecting me, that is one advantage," said I,trying to seem calm, but trembling with excitement. "If all goes well,we should be out of the chateau soon after midnight."
"And at Hugues's house before one o'clock. You should be onhorseback--the Countess and you--by half-past one. Have you money,Monsieur?"
"Yes,--this purse is nearly as full as when I left home."
"That is well, for Madame has none, and I don't know how much Huguescould get together in ten minutes. I have ten crowns in his strong-box,which Madame shall have."
"They shall stay in Hugues's strong-box, and his own money too. I haveenough."
"Then I believe that is all, Monsieur, and I'd better be going back. Beon the watch for Brigitte with the key. Do you think of anything else?"
We went hurriedly over the various details of the plan, and then shetook her leave, darting along the passage as swiftly as a greyhound andas silently as a ghost. I sat down to think upon what I had undertaken,but my mind was in a whirl. Strangely enough, I, the victor of a singleduel, did not shrink from the idea of killing the two guards--or as manyas there might be. Perhaps this was because they were sure to be rascalswhose lives one could not value very highly, especially as against thatof the Countess. Nor did I feel greatly the odds against me, in regardboth to their number and to my inexperience in such business. Perhapsthe apparent confidence of Mathilde in my ability to dispose of them--aconfidence based on my being a gentleman and they underlings--infectedme. And yet I chose not to go too deeply into the probabilities. Mysafest course, for my courage, was not to think too much, but to waitfor the moment and then do my best.
It seemed but a short time till there was a tap at my door, and in camethe real Brigitte.
"Mathilde got back safe, Monsieur; she was not detected," she said, andhanded me a large key.
Ere more could pass, she was gone. I put the key in my breast pocket. Itwas now time I should show myself to the Count and his friend at table;which I proceeded to do, as boldly as if I had entertained no designagainst them. They were just back from their ride. It was strange withwhat outward coolness I was able to carry myself, by dint of notthinking too closely on what I had undertaken. For observe that, besidesthe immediate task of the night, there was Madame's whole futureinvolved. And how precipitately Mathilde and I had settled upon ourcourse, without pausing to consider if some more prudent measures mightnot be taken to the same end! But I was hurried by my feeling that Iought to save Madame, the more because no one could say how far thepresent situation was due to my having killed De Merri, and to my adventat the chateau. Even though she might choose not to escape, it was forme to give her the opportunity, at least. And to tell the truth, Ilonged to see her again, at any cost. As for Mathilde, there were herpressing fears of a worse fate for her mistress, to excuse her haste.And we were both young, and thought that any project which goes straightand smoothly in the telling must go straight and smoothly in the doing;and we looked not far ahead.
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