CHAPTER XII.
THE CUP AND THE LIP.
Blondel could not hide the agitation he felt as he listened to hisunexpected visitors, and saw whither their errand tended. Fabri, who wasleader of the deputation of three who had come upon him without warning,discerned this; much more Baudichon and Petitot, whose eyes were on thewatch for the least sign of weakness. And Blondel was conscious thatthey saw it, and on that account strove the more to mask his feelingsunder a show of decision. "I have little doubt that I shall have newswithin the hour," he said. "Before night, I must have news." And noddingwith the air of a man who knew much which he could not impart, he leantback in the old abbot's chair.
But Fabri had not come for that, nor was he to be satisfied with that;and, after a pause, "Yes," he replied, "I know. That may be so. But yousee, Messer Blondel, this affair is not quite where it was yesterday, orwe should not have come to you to-day. The King of France--I am sure weare much indebted to him--does not write on light occasions, and hiswarning is explicit. From Paris, then, we get the same story as fromTurin. And this being so, and the King's tale agreeing with ouragent's----"
"He does not mention Basterga!" Blondel objected. He repented the momenthe had said it.
"By name, no. But he says----"
"Enough for any one with eyes!" Petitot exclaimed.
"He says," Fabri repeated, requesting the other by a gesture to besilent, "that the Grand Duke's emissary is a Paduan expelled from Veniceor from Genoa. That is near enough. And I confess, were I in your place,Messer Blondel----"
"With your responsibilities," Petitot muttered through closed teeth.
"I should want to know--more about him." This from Baudichon.
Fabri nodded assent. "I think so," he said. "I really think so. In fact,I may go farther and say that were I in your place, Messer Blondel, Ishould seize him to-day."
"Ay, within the hour!"
"This minute!" said Baudichon, last of the three. And all three, theirultimatum delivered, looked at Blondel, a challenge in their eyes. If hestood out longer, if he still declined to take the step which prudencedemanded, the step on which they were all agreed, they would know thatthere was something behind, something of which he had not told them.
Blondel read the look, and it perturbed him. But not to the point ofsapping the resolution which he had formed at the Council Table, and towhich, once formed, he clung with the obstinacy of an obstinate man. The_remedium_ first; afterwards what they would, but the _remedium_ first.He was not going to risk life, warm life, the vista of sunny unendingto-morrows, of springs and summers and the melting of snows, for acraze, a scare, an imaginary danger! Why at that very minute the ladwhom he had commissioned to seize the thing might be on the way with it.At any minute a step might sound on the threshold, and herald thepromise of life. And then--then they might deal with Basterga as theypleased. Then they might hang the Paduan high as Haman, if they pleased.But until then--his mind was made up.
"I do not agree with you," he said, his underlip thrust out, his headtrembling a little.
"You will not arrest him?"
"No, I shall not arrest him," he replied, hardening himself to meettheir protestant and indignant eyes. "Nor would you," he continued withbravado, "in my place. If you knew as much as I do."
"But if you know," Baudichon said, "I would like to know also."
"The responsibility is mine." Blondel swayed himself from side to sidein his chair as he said it. "The responsibility is mine, and I amwilling to bear it. It is the old difference of policy between us," hecontinued, addressing Petitot. "You are willing to grasp at every pettyadvantage, I am willing----"
"To risk much to gain much," Petitot exclaimed.
"To take some risk to gain a real advantage," Blondel retorted,correcting him with an eye to Fabri; whom alone, as the one impartialhearer, he feared. "For to what does the course which you are so eagerto take amount? You seize Basterga: later, you will release him at theGrand Duke's request. What are we the better? What is gained?"
"Safety."
"No, on the other hand, danger. Danger! For, warned that we havedetected their plot, they will hatch another plot, and instead ofworking as at present under our eyes, they will work below the surfacewith augmented care and secrecy: and will, perhaps, deceive us. No, myfriends"--throwing himself back in his chair with an air of patronage,almost of contempt--for by dint of repeating his argument he had come tobelieve it, and to plume himself upon it--"I look farther ahead thanyou do, and for the sake of future gain am willing to take--presentresponsibility."
They were silent awhile: his old mastery was beginning to assert itself.Then Petitot spoke. "You take a heavy responsibility," he said, "a heavycharge, Messer Blondel. What if harm come of it?"
Blondel shrugged his shoulders.
"You have no wife, Messer Blondel."
The Fourth Syndic stared. What did the man mean?
"You have no daughters," Petitot continued, a slight quaver in his tone."You have no little children, you sleep well of nights, the fall ofwood-ash does not rouse you, you do not listen when you awake. You donot----" he paused, the last barrier of reserve broken down, the tearsstanding openly in his eyes--"it is foolish perhaps--you do not yearn,Messer Blondel, to take all you love in your arms, and shelter them andcover them from the horrors that threaten us, the horrors that may fallon us--any night! You do not"--he looked at Baudichon and the stoutman's face grew pale, he averted his eyes--"you do not dream of thesethings, Messer Blondel, nor awake to fancy them, but we do. We do!" herepeated in accents which went to the hearts of all, "day and night,rising and lying down, waking and sleeping. And we--dare run no risks."
In the silence which followed Blondel's fingers tapped restlessly on thetable. He cleared his throat and voice.
"But there, I tell you there are no risks," he said. He was movednevertheless.
Petitot bowed, humbly for him. "Very good," he said. "I do not say thatyou are not right. But----"
"And moment by moment I expect news. It might come at this minute, itmight come at any minute," the Syndic continued. With a glance at thewindow he moved his chair, as if to shake off the spell that Petitothad cast over him. "Besides--you do not expect the town to be taken inan hour from now?"
"No."
"In broad daylight?"
Petitot shook his head, "God knows what I expect!" he murmureddespondently.
"When the information we have points to a night attack?"
Fabri nodded. "That is true," he said.
"And the walls are well guarded at night."
Fabri nodded again. "Yes," he said, "it is true. I think, MesserPetitot," he went on, turning to him, "we are a little over-fearful."
The two others were silent, and Blondel eyed them harshly, aware that hehad mastered them, yet hating them. Petitot's appeal to hisfeelings--which had touched and moved Blondel even while he resented itas something cruel and unfair--had lacked but a little of success. Butmissing, failing by ever so little, it left the three ill-equipped tocontinue the struggle on lower grounds. They sat silent, Fabri almostconvinced, the others dejected: and Blondel sat silent also, hardened byhis victory, and hating them for the manner of it. Was not his life asdear to him as their wives and children were to them? And was it not atstake? Yet he did not whine and pule to them. God! they whine, theycomplain, who had long years to live and rose of mornings withoutcounting the days, and, at the worst and were Geneva taken, had but thecommon risks to run and many a chance of escape! While he--yet he didnot pule to them! He did not stab them unfairly, cruelly, striving toreach their tender spots, to take advantage of their kindness of heart.He had no thought, no notion of betraying them; but, had he such, itwould serve them right! It would repay them selfishness forselfishness, greed for greed! In his place they would not hesitate. Hecould see at what a price they set their petty lives, and how littlethey would scruple to buy them in the dearest market. Well was it forGeneva that it was he and not they whom God saw fit to try. And he
glowered at them. Wives and daughters! What were wives and daughtersbeside life, warm life, life stretching forward pleasantly,indefinitely, morning after morning, day after day--life and acontinuance of good things?
Immersed as he was in this train of thought, it was none the less he whofirst caught the sound of a foot on the threshold, and a summons at thedoor. He rose to his feet. Already in his mind's eye he saw Bastergacast to the lions: and why not? The sooner the better if the _remedium_were really at the door. "There may be news even now," he said, strivingto master his emotion, and to speak with the superiority of a fewminutes before. "One moment, by your leave! I will see and let you knowif it be so, Messer Fabri."
"Do by all means," Fabri answered earnestly. "You will greatly relieveme."
"Ay, indeed, I hope it is so," Petitot murmured.
"I will see, and--and return," Blondel repeated, beginning to stammer."I--I shall not be a minute." The struggle for composure was vain; hishead was on fire, his limbs twitched. Had it come?
Yet when he reached the door he paused, afraid to open. What if it werenot the _remedium_, what if it were some trifle? What if--but as hehesitated, his hand, half eager, half reluctant, rested on the latch,the door slid ajar, and his eyes met the complacent smirking face of hismessenger. He fancied that he read success in Gentilis' looks, and hisheart leapt up. "I shall be back in a moment," he babbled, speaking overhis shoulder to those whom he left. "In a moment, gentlemen, onemoment!" And going out he closed the door behind him--closed itjealously, that they might not hear.
"I hope he has news will decide him," Petitot muttered lowering hisvoice involuntarily. "Messer Blondel is over-courageous for me!" Heshook his head dismally.
"He is very courageous," Fabri assented in the same undertone. "Perhapseven--a little rash."
Baudichon grunted. "Rash!" he repeated. "I would like to know what heexpects? I would like to know----"
A cry as of a wild beast cut short the word: a blow, a shriek of painfollowed, the door flew open; as they rose to their feet in wonder, intothe room fell a lad--it was Louis--a red weal across his face, his armraised to protect his head. Close on him, his eyes flaming, his canequivering in the air, pressed Messer Blondel. In their presence he aimedanother blow at the lad: but the blow fell short, and before he couldraise his stick a third time the astonished looks of the three in theroom reminded him where he was, and in a measure sobered him. But he wasstill unable to articulate: and the poor smarting wretch cowering behindthe magistrates was not more deeply or more visibly moved.
"Steady, steady, Messer Blondel!" Fabri said. "I fear something untowardhas happened. What is it?" And he put himself more decidedly betweenthem.
"He has ruined us!"
"Not that, I hope?"
"Ruined us! Ruined us!" Blondel panted, his rage almost choking him. "Hehad it in his hands and let it go. He let it go!"
"That which you----"
"That which I"--a pause--"commissioned him to get."
"But you did not! Oh, worshipful gentlemen," Gentilis wailed, turning tothem, "indeed, he did not tell me to bring aught but papers! I swear hedid not."
"Whatever was there, I said! Whatever was there!" the Syndic screamed.
"No, worshipful sir!" amid a storm of sobs. "No, no! Indeed no! And howwas I to know? There was naught but that in the box, and who would thinktreason lay in a----"
"Mischief lay in it!"
"In a bottle!"
"And treason," Blondel thundered, drowning his last word, "for aught youknew! Who are you to judge where treason lies, or may lie? Oh, pig, dog,fool," he continued, carried away by a fresh paroxysm of rage, at thethought that he had had it in his grasp and let it go! "If I could scoreyour back!" And he brandished his cane.
"You have scored his face pretty fairly," Baudichon muttered. "To scorehis back too----"
"Were nothing for the offence! Nothing! As you would say if you knewit," Blondel panted.
"Indeed?"
"Ay."
"Then I would like to know it. What is it he has done?"
"He has left undone that which he was ordered to do," Blondel answeredmore soberly than he had yet spoken. He had recovered something of hispower to reason. "That is what he has done. But for his default weshould at this moment be in a position to seize Basterga."
"Ay?"
"Ay, and to seize him with proof of his guilt! Proof and to spare."
"But I could not know," Louis whimpered. "Worshipful gentlemen, I couldnot know. I could not know what it was you wanted."
"I told you to bring the contents of the box."
"Letters, ay! Letters, worthy sir, but not----"
"Silence, and go into that room!" Blondel pointed with a shaking fingerto a small inner serving-room at the end of the parlour. "Go!" herepeated peremptorily, "and stay there until I come to you."
Then, but not until the lad had taken his tear-bedabbled face into thecloset and had closed the door behind him, the Syndic turned to thethree. "I ask your pardon," he said, making no attempt to disguise theagitation which still moved him. "But it was enough, it was more thanenough, to try me." He paused and wiped his brow, on which the sweatstood in beads. "He had under his hand the papers," looking at them alittle askance as if he doubted whether the explanation would pass,"that we need! The papers that would convict Basterga. And because theydid not wear the appearance he expected--because they were disguised,you understand--they were in a bottle in fact--and were not preciselywhat he expected----"
"He left them?"
"He left them." There was something like a tear, a leaden drop, in thecorner of the Fourth Syndic's eye.
"Still if he had access to them once," Petitot suggested briskly, "whathas been done once may be done twice. He may gain access to them again.Why not?"
"He may, but he may not. Still, I should have thought of that and--andmade allowance," Blondel answered with a fair show of candour. "But toooften an occasion let slip does not return, as you well know. The leastdisorder in the box he searched may put Basterga on the alert, and wreckmy plans."
They did not answer. They felt one and all, Petitot and Baudichon noless than Fabri, that they had done this man an injustice. His passion,his chagrin, his singleness of aim, the depth of his disappointment,disarmed even those who were in the daily habit of differing from him.Was this--this the man whom they had secretly accused of lukewarmness?And to whom they had hesitated to entrust the safety of the city? Theyhad done him wrong. They had not credited him with a tithe of thefeeling, the single-mindedness, the patriotism which it was plain hepossessed.
They stood silent, while Blondel, aware of the precipice, to the vergeof which his improvident passion had drawn him, watched them out of thecorner of his eye, uncertain how far their comprehension of the scenehad gone. He trembled to think how nearly he had betrayed his secret;and took the more shame to himself, inasmuch as in cooler blood he sawthe lad's error to be far from irremediable. As Petitot said, that whichcould be done so easily and quickly could be done a second time. If onlyhe had not struck the lad! If only he had commanded himself, and spokenhim fairly and sent him back! Almost by this time the _remedium_ mightbe here. Ay, here, in the palm of his hand! The reflection stabbedBlondel so poignantly, the sense of his folly went so deep, he groanedaloud.
That groan fairly won over Baudichon, who was by nature of a kind heart."Tut, tut," he said; "you must not take it to heart, Messer Blondel. Tryagain."
"Unless, indeed," Petitot murmured, but with respect, "Messer Blondelknows the mistake to be fraught with consequences more grave than wesuppose."
The Fourth Syndic smiled awry: that was precisely what he did know. But"No," he said, "the thing can be cured. I am sorry I lost my temper. Nota moment must be wasted, however. I will see this young man: if heraises any difficulty, I have still another agent whom I can employ. Andby to-morrow at latest----"
"You may still have the thing in your hands."
"I think so. I certainly think so."
"Good. Then till to-morrow," Fabri answered, as he took his cap from thetable and with the others turned towards the door. "Good luck, MesserBlondel. We are reassured. We feel that our interests are in goodhands."
"Yes," said Petitot almost warmly. "Still, caution, caution! MesserBlondel. One bad man within the gates----"
"May be hung!" Blondel cried gaily.
"Ay, may be! But unhung is a graver foe than five hundred men without!It is that I would have you bear in mind."
"I will bear it in mind," the Fourth Syndic answered. "And when I canhang him," with a vindictive look, "be sure I will--and high as Haman!"
He attended them with solicitude to the door, being set by what hadhappened a little more upon his behaviour. That done and the outer doorclosed upon them, he returned to the parlour, but did not at once seekthe young man, upon whom he had taken the precaution of turning the key.
Instead he stood a while, pondering with a pale face; a haggard, palerreplica he seemed of the stiff, hard portrait on the panel over themantel. He was wondering why he had let himself go so foolishly; he wasrecognising with a sinking heart that it was to his illness he owed itthat he had so frequently of late lost control of himself.
For a man to discover that the power of self-mastery is passing from himis only a degree less appalling than the consciousness of insanityitself; and Blondel cowered, trembling under the thought. If aughtcould strengthen his purpose it was the suspicion that the insidiousdisease from which he suffered was already sapping the outworks of thatmind on whose clever combinations he depended for his one chance ofcure.
Yet while the thought strengthened, it terrified him. "I must make nosecond mistake--no second mistake!" he muttered, his eyes on the door ofthe serving-room. "No second mistake!" And he waited a while consideringthe matter in all its aspects. Should he tell Louis more than he hadtold him already? It seemed needless. To send the lad with curt, sternwords to fetch that which he had omitted to bring--this seemed the morestraight-forward way: and the more certain, too, since the lad had nowseen the other magistrates, and could have no doubt of their concurrenceor of the importance of the task entrusted to him. Blondel decided onthat course, and advancing to the door he opened it and called to hisprisoner to come out.
To his credit be it said the sight of the lad's wealed face gave theSyndic something of a shock. He was soon to be more gravely shaken.Instigated partly by curiosity, partly by the desire to fix Louis'scared faculties, he began by asking what was the aspect of the phialwhich the lad had omitted to bring. "What was its colour and size, andhow full was it?" he proceeded, striving to speak gently and to makeallowance for the cowering weakness of the youth before him. "Do youhear?" he urged. "Of what shape was it? You can tell that at least. Youhandled it, I suppose? You took it out of the metal box?"
Louis burst into tears.
Blondel had much ado--for it was true, he had small command ofhimself--not to strike the lad again. Instead, "Fool," he said, "what doyour tears help you or advance me? Speak, I tell you, and answer myquestion! What was the appearance of this flask or bottle, or what itwas--that you left there?"
The lad sank to his knees. Fear and pain had robbed him of the pettycunning he possessed. He no longer knew what to tell nor what towithhold. And in a breath the truth was out. "Don't strike me!" hewailed, guarding his smarting face with his arm. "And I'll tell you all!I will indeed!"
The Syndic knew then that there was more to learn. "All?" he repeated,aghast.
"Ay, the truth. All the truth," Louis moaned. "I didn't see it. I didnot go to it! I dared not! I swear I dared not.'"
"You did not see it?" the Syndic said slowly. "The phial? You did notsee the phial?"
"No."
This time Messer Blondel did not strike. He leant heavily upon thetable; his face, which a moment before had been swollen with impatience,turned a sickly white. "You--you didn't see it?" he muttered--his tonehad sunk to a whisper. "You didn't see it? Then all you told me was alie? There was nothing--no bottle in the box? But how, then, did youknow anything of a bottle? Did he"--with a sharp spasm of pain--"sendyou here to tell me this?"
"No, no! She told me. She looked--for me in the box."
"Who?"
"Anne. Anne Royaume! I was afraid," the lad continued, speaking with alittle more confidence, as he saw that the Syndic made no movement tostrike him, "and she said that she would look for me. She could go tohis room, and run little risk. But if he had caught me there he wouldhave killed me! Indeed he would!" Louis repeated desperately, as heread the storm-signs that began to darken the Syndic's face.
"You told her then?"
"I could not do it myself! I could not indeed."
He cowered lower; but he fared better than he expected. The Syndic drewa long fluttering breath, a breath of returning life, of returning hope.The colour, too, began to come back to his cheeks. After all, it mighthave been worse. He had thought it worse. He had thought himselfdiscovered, tricked, discomfited by the man against whom he had pittedhis wits, with his life for stake. Whereas--it seemed a small thing incomparison--this meant only the inclusion of one more in the secret, therunning of one more risk, the hazarding another tongue. And the lad hadnot been so unwise. She had easier access to the room than he, and ranless risk of suspicion or detection. Why not employ her in place of thelad?
The youth grovelling before him wondered to see him calm, and pluckingup spirit stood upright. "You must go back to her, and ask her to get itfor you," Blondel said firmly. "You can be back within the half-hour,bringing it."
Louis began to shrink. His eyes sank. "She will not give it me," hemuttered.
"No?" Blondel, as he repeated the word, wondered at his own moderation.But the shock had been heavy; he felt the effect of it. He was languid,almost half-hearted. Moreover, a new idea had taken root in his mind."You can try her," he said.
"I can try her, but she will not give it me," Louis repeated with a newobstinacy. As the Syndic grew mild he grew sullen. The change was in theother, not in himself. Subtly he knew that the Syndic was no longer inthe mood to strike.
Blondel ruminated. It might be better, it might even be safer, if he sawthe girl himself. The story--of treason and a bottle--which had imposedon his colleagues might not move her much. It might be wiser to attackher on other grounds, grounds on which women lay more open. Andself-pity whispered with a tear that the truth, than which he couldconceive nothing more moving, nothing more sublimely sad, might gofarther with a woman than bribes or threats or the most skilfulinventions. He made up his mind. He would tell the truth, or somethinglike it, something as like it as he dared tell her.
"Very well," he said, "you can go! But be silent! A word to him--I shalllearn it sooner or later--and you perish on the wheel! You can go now. Ishall put the matter in other hands."
The Long Night Page 12
