CHAPTER XV.
TO CLOCHONNE, AFTER MADEMOISELLE
On through the forest, on over the narrow path, the horse seeming to feelmy own impatience, his hoofs crushing the fallen twigs and the vegetationthat lay in the way, the branches of the trees striking me in foreheadand eyes, my heart on fire, my mind a turmoil, on to learn the truth, onto see her! The moon was now overhead, and here and there it lighted upthe path. Close behind me came Frojac. I heard the footfalls and thebreathing of his horse.
Would we come up to her before she reached Clochonne? This depended onthe length of start she had. She would lose some time, perhaps, throughbeing less familiar with the road than we were, yet wherever the road laystraight before her she would force her horse to its utmost, guessingthat her departure would be discovered and herself pursued.
My mind inclined this way and that as I rode. Now I saw how strong wasthe evidence against her, yet I refused to be convinced by it before Ishould hear what she might have to say. Now I conjured up her imagebefore me, and then all the evidence was naught. It was impossible thatthis face, of all faces in the world, could have been a mask to concealfalsehood and treachery, that this voice could have lied in its sweet andsorrowful tones, that her appearance of grief could have been but apretence, that her seemingly unconscious signs of love could have beensimulation!
Yet had not the gypsy sung of the false flame of woman's love? It istrue, she had bade me heed these words. Would she have done so had herown appearance of love been false? Perhaps it was this very thought, thevery improbability of a false woman's warning a man against woman'streachery, that had made her do so, that I might the less readily onoccasion believe her false. Who can tell the resources and devices of asubtle woman?
What? Was I doubting her? Was I believing the story? Was I, with mycloser knowledge of her, with my experience of the freaks ofcircumstance, with my perception of her heart, to accept the firstapparent deduction from the few facts at hand, as blind, unthinking,undiscriminating soldiers, Blaise and Frojac, had done? Did I not know ofwhat kind of woman she was? She was no Mlle. d'Arency.
Yet, who knows but that poor De Noyard had believed Mlle. d'Arency true?Might he not, with the eyes of love, have seen in her as pure andspotless a creature as I had seen in Mlle. de Varion? Do the eyes oflove, then, deceive? Is the confidence of lovers never to be relied on?
But I must have read her heart aright. Surely her heart had spoken tomine. Surely its voice was that of truth. Surely I knew her. Were not hereyes to be believed. Were not truth, goodness, gentleness, love, writtenon her face?
Yet, how went the gypsy's song,--the one we had heard him sing atGodeau's inn, by the forest road?
"But, ah, the sadness of the dayWhen woman shows her treason!And, oh, the price we have to payFor joys that have their season!Her look of love is but a maskFor plots that she is weaving.Alas, for those who fondly baskIn smiles that are deceiving!"
Might this, then, be true of any woman? So many men had found it out. Theeyes of so many had been opened at last. Was I still a fool, had Ilearned so little of women, had my experience with Mlle. d'Arency taughtme only to beware of women outwardly like her, did I need a separatelesson for each different woman on whom I might set my heart? Was it mypeculiar lot to be twice deceived in the same way?
And yet, how her eyes had moistened in dwelling on mine, how they haddropped before my look, how she had yielded to my embrace, how she hadstood still and unresisting in my arms! No, no, they were wrong! DeBerquin had lied, Blaise and Frojac were stolid fools, capable of makingonly the most obvious inference, and I was a contemptible wretch tofalter in my faith in her for an instant! She was the victim of a set ofcircumstances. She had reason for her hasty departure, she would make allclear in a few words. On, on, my horse, that I may hear those words, thatmy heart may rejoice! How soon shall we come up to her? How far ahead isshe? How near to Clochonne? On! She is true, I know it. On! It may beeven for my sake that she is endangering herself. On, that I may be ather side to shield her! On, for of late I have passed all the hours ofthe day with her, all the nights near her, her presence has been thebreath of life to me, it is a new and unwonted and intolerable thing tobe away from her, and I madly thirst and hunger for the sight of her! On,good horse!
Yet, torturing thought, how the story explained all that had seemedstrange! How it fitted so many facts! At the inn at Fleurier we hadoverheard the plan suggested by Montignac for my capture, the employmentof a spy who was to find my hiding place, send word of it, then plan anambush for me. Then the lady had come to the inn. Perhaps she was onewho had already some kind of relations with the governor and had now comepurposely to meet him. What had passed between her and the governor wehad not overheard. It might easily have been the proposal by him, and theacceptance by her, of the mission against me. Such a task might better beentrusted to a woman. Catherine herself had employed women to entrap menwho would have been on their guard against men. Certain Huguenotgentlemen had been especially susceptible to the charms of heraccomplished decoys. Then the governor and his secretary had gone, andthe latter had reappeared with De Berquin. It might really be that thiswoman, whether she were Mlle. de Varion, or whether she merely took thatname in order to get my confidence without having to make the riskypretence of being a Protestant, was desired by Montignac and yet dislikedhim, and that De Berquin had been hired indeed to hold her forcibly forthe secretary after she had accomplished her mission. But her ingenuoussigns of a tender feeling for me? A device to blind me and win my trust,and so, through me, get the confidence of my supposed friend, LaTournoire. Her grief on the journey? Mere pretence, in order to bear outher story and enlist my sympathy. Her periods of silence and meditation?She was thinking out the details of her plot. Her questions about LaTournoire? A means of learning what manner of man she would have to dealwith, and of finding out his hiding-place at a time when it would beeasiest to despatch her boy with a description of it to the governor. Herdesire to know how great was my friendship for La Tournoire? This aroseperhaps from a thought that I might be won over to her purpose, perhapsfrom a fear that I might some day avenge his betrayal. The barrier that,she said, lay between us? A pretext to get rid of me as soon as I mightbe, not only useless to her, but also in the way of her designs againstLa Tournoire. Her strange agitation? A mask to cover the real excitementthat one in her position must have felt. Her aspect of horror at thedisclosure that I was La Tournoire? This may have been real, coming froma fear that she might have betrayed herself by the curiosity she hadshown about me, that the eyes of La Tournoire must be keener than thoseof the light-hearted man she had taken me to be, that I had dissembled toher as well as to De Berquin, that I had been playing with her from thefirst. After she knew me to be La Tournoire, and was assured that I didnot suspect her, she no more spoke of my going from her. What was herweakness of body at Maury but a pretext for delay, that the governormight have time to come to Clochonne and the project of the ambush becarried out? She had forged chains of love to hold me where she was. Hercoyness but kept those chains the stronger, her postponement of thesurrender made it the more impossible for me to leave her side. Who cango from the woman he loves while his fate is uncertain? If she had madeno show of love, I could have left her. If she had confessed her love inwords, and promised to be my own, I could have endured to leave her for atime. How well she knew men! How well she had maintained just thatappearance which kept my thoughts on her night and day, which made meunwilling to lose sight of her, and which would have made me instantlyresponsive to any summons that she might have sent me from any part ofthe forest!
So, then, there were two sides, two appearances, to this woman. The one,the good side, that which I had seen, that which had been the joy of mylife, was not real, was but a seeming, had no existence but in pretence.The other, the wicked side, was the real one, was the actual woman. I hadnever known her. What I had known was but an assumption; it had no being.Was this credible? Could a bad woman so delude one with an angelicpretence
, so conceal her wicked self? If so, to what depths of vilenessmight she not be capable of descending? Was it, then, not that I had lostmy beloved, but that she had never existed? At thought of it, I felt asickness within, a weakness, a choking, a giving way. And then her imagecame before me again, as she had stood in the moonlit garden, and mybeloved was born again. The woman I had known was the real one. I haddone her incredible wrong to have thought otherwise. But whether good orbad, whether or not my betrayer, I loved her; I longed for her; I wouldsee her face; I would clasp her in my arms; I would claim her as my own;I would hold her against her own will and the world's. On, my horse, on!Where is she now, what has befallen her, how soon shall my heart bound atsight of her before me in the night? On! Whether she lead me to heaven orto hell, I must be with her; I cannot wait!
Presently we came to the abode of Godeau and Marianne, where the forestpath runs into the old road across the mountains. We had to check ourspeed here, on account of the thick growth of vegetation that served tomask the forest path from travellers on the road. We emerged from this,and turned the heads of our horses towards Clochonne.
The door of the inn opened, and Marianne came forth. She had beenwatching.
"Monsieur," she said, "I did not know whether to come to you ornot. I have been keeping my eyes and ears open for any of thegovernor's troops."
"But you have seen or heard none," I answered, impatiently.
"None, monsieur. But some one has ridden by, towardsClochonne--the lady!"
I knew from her tone that she saw in Mademoiselle's flight alonesufficient reason for suspicion of mademoiselle and for alarm on my ownpart. She, too, thought mademoiselle guilty, myself duped. I firstthought to pretend that mademoiselle's departure was a thing agreed on byher and me, but it was no time to value the opinion of a peasant.
"On, Frojac!" I said, and on we went. We could make better speed now, forthe road, though little used and in bad condition, was continuous and,unlike the forest path, comparatively free of intrusive vegetation. Itwas hard, too, for the weather had been dry for a long time. The loudclatter of the horses' hoofs was some relief to my eager heart.
There is a place where this road passes near the verge of a precipice,which, like that at Maury, falls sheer to the road along the River Creusefrom Clochonne to Narjec. But, unlike that at Maury, this declivity isbare of trees.
We were galloping steadily on and were approaching this place in theroad. Frojac was now riding at my side, as there was room for twohorsemen to go abreast.
"Hark!" said Frojac, suddenly. "Do you hear something?"
I heard the sounds made by our riding, but no other.
"Horsemen," he went on. "And men afoot, on the march!"
"Where?" I asked. We continued to gallop forward.
"Ahead," he answered. "Don't you hear, monsieur?"
I listened. Yes, there was the far-off sound of many shod feet strikinghard earth.
"It is ahead," said I.
"A body of troops," said Frojac.
"Then we may catch up with them."
"Or meet them. Perhaps they are coming this way."
"Troops on a night march!" said I.
Frojac looked at me. I saw written on his face the same thought that hesaw on mine.
"Whose else could they be?" he said. "And for what other purpose?"
Had Monsieur de la Chatre, then, chosen this night for a surprise andattack on me at Maury? If he knew my hiding-place, why should he not havedone so? The idea of the ambush, then, had been abandoned? Perhaps,indeed, the plan that I had overheard Montignac outline to La Chatre hadbeen greatly modified. Had mademoiselle, if she were in truth thegovernor's agent, known of this night attack, if it were in truth a nightattack against me? Had she fled in order to avoid the shame or the dangerof being present at my capture? These and many other questions rushedthrough my mind.
"What shall we do?" asked Frojac, after a time.
"Go on," said I.
"But if we meet them, and they are La Chatre's men, I fear that ourchances of catching up with the lady will be small."
"But, after all, we do not know who they are. If they are coming thisway, they must have met her by this time. Perhaps they have stopped her?Who knows? I must follow her."
"But now it seems that the sound comes more from the north. They arecertainly coming nearer. They may be on the river road. We can see bygoing to the edge of the precipice and looking down."
"We should lose time."
"'Tis but a little way out of the road. This is where the road is nearestto the edge."
It might, indeed, be to my advantage to learn at once whether the troopswere in the road in front of us or in the road at the foot of themountain. So I fought down my impatience, and we turned from the roadtowards the precipice. There was little underbrush here to hinder us,and in a very short time we reined in our horses and looked down on thevast stretch of moonlit country below.
At the very foot of the steep was the road that runs from Clochonne toNarjec. And there, moving from the former towards the latter, went atroop of horsemen, followed by a foot company of arquebusiers. Theytrailed along, like a huge dark worm on the yellow way, following theturns of the road. Seen from above, their figures were shortened andlooked squat.
I looked among the horsemen.
"I cannot see La Chatre," said I.
"But some of these are his men," said Frojac, "for I see my old comrade.He knew nothing today of this march. I see most of the men of theClochonne garrison. I wonder what use they expect to make of their horsesif they intend to approach Maury from the river road."
I recalled now the exact words in which I had indicated to mademoisellethe location of my hiding-place. I had said that it might be reached byturning up the wooded hill from the river road, at the rock shaped like athrone. Was it, indeed, in accordance with directions communicated to LaChatre by her that they were now proceeding?
"If they are bound for Maury," said I, "they have hit on a good time.Blaise and the men will have left there long before they arrive. Come,Frojac, we lose precious minutes!"
"One thing is good, monsieur," said Frojac, as our horses resumed theirgallop towards Clochonne. "If we do have to follow the lady all the wayto Clochonne, we shall not find many soldiers there when we arrive.Nearly all of La Chatre's men and the garrison troops are down there onthe river road, marching further from Clochonne every minute."
Alas, it was not then of troops to be encountered that I thought! It wasof what disclosure might be awaiting me concerning mademoiselle. Wouldshe admit her guilt or demonstrate her innocence? Would she prove to bethat other woman, or the one I had known? Would she laugh or weep, bebrazen or overwhelmed? How would she face me? That was my only thought.Let me dare death a thousand times over, only to know the truth,--nay,only to see her again!
So we sped forward on the road, which, by its length and its windings,makes a gradual descent of the northern slope of the wooded ridge. Atlast we came to the foot of the steep, emerged from the forest, turnednorthward, and then saw before us, a little to the right, the sleepingtown of Clochonne. At the further end of that, on an eminence commandingthe river, stood the chateau, looking inaccessible and impregnable.
I thought of the day when I had first seen the chateau, the day when wehad come over the mountains from the south, and Frojac had pointed out tome where it stood in the distance. That was before I had met mademoiselleor knew that she was in the world. Little had I thought that ever Ishould be hastening madly towards that chateau in the night on such anerrand or in such turmoil of heart!
We came to the point where the road by which we had come converges withtwo others. One of these, joining from the right, also comes from thesouth, and is, in fact, the new road across the mountains. The other,joining from the left, is the road from Narjec, the one which runs alongthe river and the base of the hills. It is this one which passes thethrone-shaped rock beneath Maury, and on which we had seen the troops.Had we, coming from the mountains, reached this s
pot before the troopscoming from Clochonne reached it, we should have met them; but they hadpassed this spot long before we had seen them from the height.
Blaise and the men, whom I had ordered to follow me, would have leftMaury soon after I had. Certainly they would not be there when thegovernor's troops should arrive. Coming by the road that I had used,Blaise would not meet the governor's men on their way to Maury. But theroad by the river was much the shorter. The governor's men, ondiscovering Maury deserted, might return immediately to Clochonne. Theymight reach this spot before Blaise's men did, or about the same time.Then there would be fighting.
These thoughts came into my mind at sight of the converging roads, not asmatters of concern to me, but as mere casual observations. There wasmatter of greater moment to claim my anxiety. As to what might be the endof this night, as to what might occur after my meeting with mademoiselle,as to what might befall Blaise and my men, I had no thought.
And now, turning slightly northeastward, the road lay straight before us,between the town wall and the river, up an incline, to the gate of thechateau. This gate opens directly from the courtyard of the chateau tothe road outside the town wall. The chateau has a gate elsewhere, whichopens to the town, within the town wall.
The road ascended straight before us, I say, and on that road, making forthe chateau gate, was a horse, and on the horse a woman. She leanedforward, urging the horse on. Over her shoulders was a mantle, a smallcap was on her head. Her hair streamed out behind her as she rode. Myheart gave a great bound.
"Look, Frojac! It is she!"
"We cannot catch her. She is too near the chateau."
"She will be detained at the gate."
"If she is the governor's agent, she will know what word to give theguards. They will have orders to admit her, day or night. One who goes onsuch business may be expected at any hour."
The manner of her reception at the gate, then, would disclose the truth.If she were admitted without parley, it would be evident that she was inthe governor's service. My heart sank. Those who ride so fast towardsclosed gates, at such an hour, expect the gates to let them in.
"Mademoiselle!" I called.
But my voice was hoarse. I had no command over it. I could not give itvolume. She made no sign. It was evident that she had not heard it. Shedid not seem to know that she was pursued. She did not look back. Was sheso absorbed in her own thoughts, in her desire to reach her destination,that she was conscious of nothing else?
Frojac was right. She was already too near the chateau for us to overtakeher before she arrived at the gate. We could but force our panting horsesto their best, and keep our eyes on her. The moon was now in the west,and there was no object on the western side of the road to make a shadow.So we did not once lose sight of her. She approached the chateau gatewithout diminution of speed; it looked as if she heeded it not, orexpected the horse to leap it.
"Even if they do admit her promptly," said I, "it will take a little timeto lower the bridge over the ditch. We may then come up to her."
"Can you not see?" said Frojac. "The bridge is already down."
So it was. The troops had, doubtless, departed by this gate; the bridge,let down for their departure, was still down, doubtless for their return.The guards left at the chateau were, certainly, on the alert for thisreturn. In the event of any hostile force appearing in the meantime, theycould raise the bridge; but such an event was most unlikely. The onlyhostile force in the vicinity was my own company. It is thus that Iaccounted for the fact that the bridge was down.
Right up to the gate she rode, the horse coming to a quick stop on thebridge at the moment when it looked as if he were about to dash his headagainst the gate.
With straining ears I listened, as I rode on towards her.
She called out. I could hear her voice, but could not make out herwords. For some time she sat on her horse waiting, watching the gatebefore her. I was surprised that she did not hear the clatter of ourhorses and look around. Then she called again. I heard an answer fromthe other side of the gate, and then the way was opened. She rode atonce into the courtyard.
We pressed on, Frojac and I, myself knowing not what was to come, hecontent to follow me and face whatever might arise. The immediate thingwas to reach the chateau, as mademoiselle had done. Some means must befound for getting entrance, for now that mademoiselle was inside, Ilooked to see the gate fall into place at once.
But we beheld the unexpected. The gate remained open. No guard appearedin the opening. We galloped up the hill, over the bridge, into thecourtyard. Nothing hindered us. What did it mean?
We stopped our horses and dismounted. There in the courtyard stoodmademoiselle's horse, trembling and panting, but mademoiselle herself haddisappeared. Before us was an open door, doubtless the principal entranceto the chateau. Mademoiselle had probably gone that way.
"Come, Frojac!" said I, and started for this door.
But at that instant we heard rough exclamations and hasty steps behindus. We turned and drew sword. From the guard-house by the gate, wherethey must have been gambling or drinking or sleeping, or otherwiseneglecting their duty, came four men, who seemed utterly astonished atsight of us.
"Name of the Virgin!" cried one. "The gate open! Where is Lavigue? He hasleft his post! Who are you?"
"Enemies! Down with La Chatre!" I answered, seeing in a flash that anattempt to fool them might be vain and would take time. A quick fight wasthe thing to serve me best, for these men had been taken by surprise, andtwo of them had only halberds, one had a sword, the fourth had anarquebus but his match was out.
It was the man with the sword who had spoken. He it was who nowspoke again:
"Enemies? Prisoners, then! Yield!"
And he rushed up to us, accompanied by the halberdiers, while thearquebusier ran to light his match at a torch in the guard-house.
Never was anything so expeditiously done. The leader knew nothing of finesword work. I had my point through his lungs before the halberdiers cameup. While I was pulling it out, one of the halberdiers aimed a blow atme, and the other threatened Frojac. My follower dodged the thrust meantfor him, and at the same instant laid low, with a wound in the side, thefellow who was aiming at me. Thus one of the halberdiers followed theswordsman to earth instantly. The second halberdier recovered himself,and made to attack Frojac again, but I caught his weapon in my left hand,and so held it, while Frojac ran towards the arquebusier, who was nowcoming from the guard-house with lighted match. The halberdier, whoseweapon I now grasped in one hand, while I held my sword in the other,took fright, let his weapon go, and ran from the courtyard through theopen gateway. The arquebusier tried to bring his weapon to bear onFrojac, but Frojac dropped on his knees and, thrusting from below, ranhis sword into the man's belly. The man fell with a groan, dropping hisweapon and his match.
I looked around. The courtyard was empty. Were these four, then, the onlysoldiers that had been left to guard the chateau? No, for these four hadbeen surprised to find the gate open. Some one else must have opened thegate for mademoiselle. Moreover, the swordsman had spoken of a Lavigue."Take the arquebus and the match, Frojac," said I, "and come. There isnothing to be done here at present."
He obeyed me, and we returned to the door of the chateau. Just as we wereabout to enter, I heard steps as of one coming down a staircase within.Then a man came out. He was a common soldier and he carried a halberd. Atsight of us he stopped, and stood in the greatest astonishment. Then helooked towards the gate. His expression became one of the utmostconsternation.
A thought came to me. I recalled what the swordsman said.
"You are Lavigue?" said I to the soldier.
"Yes," he said, bewildered.
"You were on duty at that gate, but you left your post."
"Yes, but--"
"But you first opened the gate for a lady."
"It was not I, monsieur," he answered, as if anxious to exoneratehimself, although he knew not to whom he was talking. "It was my comrade.He said
he knew the woman, and that the governor would wish her instantlyadmitted, and he opened the gate. When she came in, I would have had herwait at the gate till M. de la Chatre had been informed, but she ran intothe chateau, and my comrade with her. There must be something wrong, Ithought, if my comrade would leave his post to go in with the lady. So Iran after them to get her to come back. It was my thought of my duty thatmade me forget the gate. Indeed it was so, monsieur."
He evidently thought that we were friends of the governor's who hadhappened to arrive at the chateau at this hour.
So he, at least, had not received orders to admit mademoiselle. Joyfulhope! Perhaps there had been no understanding between her and thegovernor, after all! But his comrade had let her in, had said that thegovernor would wish the gate opened to her at once. Then there was anunderstanding.
"Where is your comrade?" I asked.
"I left him with the lady, in the chamber at the head of the staircase.Ah, I hear him coming down the stairs!"
"Look to this man, Frojac," said I, and then hastened into the chateau.The moonlight through the open door showed a large vestibule, from whichthe staircase ascended towards the right. The man coming down thisstaircase was at the bottom step when I entered the vestibule. He stoppedthere, taken by surprise. I saw that he was of short stature and slightfigure. I caught him by the back of the neck with my left hand, andbrought him to his knees before me.
"Where is the lady who but now entered the chateau?" I said. "Why are yousilent, knave?"
He trembled in my grasp, and I turned his face up towards mine. It wasthe face of mademoiselle's boy, Pierre, who had left us in the forest!
"You here?" I cried. "It was you, then, who opened the gate to her! Howcame you here? Speak, if ever you would see the blue sky again!"
I pressed my fingers into his throat, until he choked and the fear ofdeath showed in his starting eyes; then I released my clasp, that hemight speak.
"Oh, monsieur, have mercy!" he gasped. "Do not kill me!"
I saw that he was thoroughly frightened for his life. He was but aboy, and to a boy the imminent prospect of closing one's eyes foreveris not pleasant.
"Speak, then! Tell the truth!" I said, still holding him by the neck,ready to tighten my clasp at any moment.
"I will, I will!" he said. "I went from Mlle. de Varion to M. de laChatre, with a message, and he kept me in his service."
"What message? The truth, boy! I shall see in your eyes whether or not itbe truth you tell me, and if you lie your eyes shall never look on theworld again. Quick, what message?"
"That I came from Mlle. de Varion to the governor," he answered, huskily,"and that at the top of the hill that rises from the throne-shaped rockby the river road to Narjec is the burrow of the Huguenot fox!"
The last doubt, the last hope, was gone!
"My God!" I cried, and cast the boy away from me. What now to me was heor anything that he might do or say? He cowered for a moment on theground, looking up at me, and then, seeing that I no longer heeded him,ran out to the courtyard.
For a moment I stood alone in the vestibule, crushed by the terriblecertainty. All women, then, were as bad as Mlle. d'Arency. The sweet andtender girl who had filled my heart was as the worst of them. To bebetrayed was deplorable, but to be betrayed by her! To find her atraitress was terrible, but that I should be her dupe! And that I shouldstill love her, love her, love her!
What, she was in the chateau, under this roof, and I tarried heredeploring her treason when I might be at her side, clasping her, lookinginto her eyes! "In the chamber at the head of the staircase," the guardhad said. I forgot Frojac, the guard, Pierre. But one thought, onedesire, one impulse, possessed me. With my dripping sword in my hand, Ibounded up the stairs. They led me to a narrow gallery, which had windowson the side next the courtyard. There were doors on the other side. Asingle light burned. No one was in the gallery. The door nearest thestaircase landing was slightly open. I ran to it and into the chamber towhich it gave entrance.
As in the gallery, so in the chamber, I found no one. I stood just withinthe threshold and looked around. The walls of the apartment were hungwith tapestry. At the right was first a window, then a chimney-place,beside which stood a sword, then a _prieu-dieu._ Before the fireplace wasa table, on which were a lamp burning, paper, ink, pens, and a large bowlof fruit. At the left of the chamber was a large bed, its curtains drawnaside. Beside this was another table, on which was an empty tray. Therewas a door, slightly ajar, in that side of the room, and another in theside that faced me. On the back of a chair near the fireplace was slung ahunting-horn. On a stool near the door by which I had entered lay a beltwith a dagger in sheath. The bed looked as if some one had recently lainon it. The presence of the fruit, writing materials, and other thingsseemed to indicate that this was the chamber of M. de la Chatre. But whywas he not in his bed? Probably he could not sleep while he awaited theresult of this midnight enterprise of his troops. Certainly the servantsin the chateau were asleep. It was apparent that the six guards, four ofwhom we had disposed of, were the only soldiers left at the chateau, for,if there had been any others in the guard-house, they would have beenawakened by the fight in the courtyard. How many troops were left in thetown, I could not know, but they would not come to the chateau during thenight unless brought by an alarm. So there would not be many to interposethemselves between mademoiselle and me. But where was she? Whithershould I first turn to seek her.
I had well-nigh chosen to try the room at the left, when the dooropposite me opened without noise, and a figure glided into the chamber,swiftly and silently. The movement was that of a person who rapidlytraverses a place in search of some one.
"Mademoiselle!"
She heard me, saw me, stopped, and stood with parted lips, astoundedface, and terror-stricken eyes.
So we stood, the width of the room between us, regarding each other.
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