CHAPTER XVIII
CLEVER TACTICS
As soon as M. Durand had recovered from the shock of Madame laMarquise's sudden invasion of his sanctum, he ran to the portierewhich he had been watching so anxiously, and, pushing it aside, hedisclosed the door partially open.
"Monsieur le Comte de Stainville!" he called discreetly.
"Has she gone?" came in a whisper from the inner room.
"Yes! yes! I pray you enter, M. le Comte," said M. Durand,obsequiously holding the portiere aside. "Madame la Marquise onlypassed through very quickly; she took notice of nothing, I assureyou."
Gaston de Stainville cast a quick searching glance round the room ashe entered, and fidgeted nervously with a lace handkerchief in hishand. No doubt his enforced sudden retreat at Lydie's approach hadbeen humiliating to his pride. But he did not want to come on her tooabruptly, and was chafing now because he needed a menial's help tofurther his desires.
"You were a fool, man, to place me in this awkward position," he saidwith a scowl directed at M. Durand's meek personality, "or else aknave, in which case . . ."
"Ten thousand pardons, M. le Comte," rejoined the little manapologetically. "Madame la Marquise scarcely ever comes this wayafter _le petit lever_. She invariably retires to her study, andthither I should have had the honour to conduct you, according to yourwish."
"You seem very sure that Madame la Marquise would have granted me aprivate audience."
"I would have done my best to obtain one for M. Le Comte," said M.Durand with becoming modesty, "and I think I should have succeeded. . . with tact and diplomacy, Monsieur le Comte, we, who areprivileged to . . ."
"Yes, yes!" interrupted Gaston impatiently, "but now?"
"Ah! now it will be much more difficult. Madame la Marquise is not inher study, and . . ."
"And you will want more pay," quoth Gaston with a sneer.
"Oh! Monsieur le Comte . . ." protested Durand.
"Well! how much more?" said the Comte impatiently.
"What does M. le Comte desire?"
"To speak with Madame la Marquise quite alone."
"Heu! . . . heu! . . . it is difficult. . . ."
But Gaston de Stainville's stock of patience was running low. He neverhad a great deal. With a violent oath he seized the little man by thecollar.
"Two louis, you knave, for getting me that audience now, at once, ormy flunkey's stick across your shoulders if you fool me any longer."
M. Durand apparently was not altogether unprepared for this outburst:perhaps his peculiar position had often subjected him to similaronslaughts on the part of irate and aristocratic supplicants. Anyway,he did not seem at all disturbed, and, as soon as the Comte's grip onhis collar relaxed, he readjusted his coat and his cravat, and holdingout his thin hand, he said meekly:
"The two louis I pray you, Monsieur le Comte. And," he added, whenGaston, with another oath, finally placed the two gold pieces on themeagre palm, "will you deign to follow me?"
He led the way through the large folding doors and thence along theenfilade of gorgeous reception rooms, the corridors, landings andstaircase which Lydie herself had traversed just now. Gaston deStainville followed him at a close distance, acknowledging with a curtnod here and there the respectful salutations of the many lackeys whomhe passed.
M. le Comte de Stainville was an important personage at Court: Madamede Pompadour's predilection for him was well known, and His Majestyhimself was passing fond of the gallant gentleman's company, whilstMadame la Comtesse was believed to hold undisputed sway over M. leControleur-General des Finances.
Thus Gaston met with obsequiousness wherever he went, and this despitethe fact that he was not lavish with money. M. Durand would haveexpected a much heavier bribe from any one else for this service whichhe was now rendering to the Comte.
Anon the two men reached the terrace. M. Durand then pointed with oneclaw-like finger to the spinney on the left.
"M. le Comte will find Madame la Marquise in yonder plantation," hesaid; "as for me, I dare not vacate my post any longer, for M. leControleur might have need of me, nor would Monsieur le Comte caremayhap to be seen by Madame la Marquise in my company."
Gaston assented. He was glad to be rid of the mealy-mouthed creature,of whose necessary help in this matter he was heartily ashamed. UnlikeLydie, he was quite unconscious of the beauty of this August day:neither the birds nor the acrid scent of late summer flowers appealedto his fancy, and the clump of young beech trees only interested himin so far as he hoped to find Lydie there, alone.
When he reached the little glade, he caught sight of the gracefulfigure, half-sitting, half-reclining in the unconscious charm ofsleep. Overcome by the heat and the glare, Lydie had dozed offmomentarily.
Presently something caused her to open her eyes and she saw Gaston deStainville standing there looking at her intently.
She was taken at a disadvantage, since she had undoubtedly beenasleep--if only for a moment--and she was not quite sure if her pose,when Gaston first caught sight of her, was sufficiently dignified.
"I am afraid I have disturbed you," he said humbly.
"I was meditating," she replied coldly, as she smoothed down herskirts and mechanically put a hand to her hair, lest a curl had goneastray.
Then she made as if she would rise.
"Surely you are not going?" he pleaded.
"I have my work to do. I only stayed here a moment, in order to rest."
"And I am intruding?"
"Oh, scarcely," she replied quietly. "I was about to return to mywork."
"Is it so urgent?"
"The business of a nation, M. le Comte, is always urgent."
"So urgent that you have no time now to give to old friends," he saidbitterly.
She shrugged her shoulders with a quick, sarcastic laugh.
"Old friends? . . . Oh! . . ."
"Yes, old friends," he rejoined quietly. "We were children together,Lydie."
"Much has occurred since then, Monsieur le Comte."
"Only one great and awful fault, which meseems hath been its ownexpiation."
"Need we refer to that now?" she asked calmly.
"Indeed, indeed, we must," he replied earnestly. "Lydie, am I never tobe forgiven?"
"Is there aught for me to forgive?"
"Yes. An error, a grave error . . . a fault, if you will call it so. . ."
"I prefer to call it a treachery," she said.
"Without one word of explanation, without listening to a single wordfrom me. Is that just?"
"There is nothing that you could say now, Monsieur le Comte, that Ishould have the right to hear."
"Why so?" he said with sudden vehemence, as he came nearer to her, andin a measure barred the way by which she might have escaped. "Even acriminal at point of death is allowed to say a few words inself-defence. Yet I was no criminal. If I loved you, Lydie, was thatwrong? . . . I was an immeasurable fool, I own that," he added morecalmly, being quick to note that he only angered her by his violence,"and it is impossible for a high-minded woman like yourself tounderstand the pitfalls which beset the path of a man, who has riches,good looks mayhap and a great name, all of which will tempt thecupidity of certain designing women, bent above all on matrimony, oninfluence and independence. Into one of these pitfalls I fell, Lydie. . . fell clumsily, stupidly, I own, but not inexcusably."
"You seem to forget, M. le Comte," she said stiffly, "that you arespeaking of your wife."
"Nay!" he said with a certain sad dignity, "I try not to forget it. Ido not accuse, I merely state a fact, and do so before the woman whomI most honour in the world, who was the first recipient of my childishconfidences, the first consoler of my boyhood's sorrows."
"That was when you were free, M. le Comte, and could bring yourconfidences to me; now they justly belong to another and . . ."
"And by the heavens above me," he interrupted eagerly, "I do thatother no wrong by bringing my sorrows to you and laying them with aprayer for consolation at your
feet."
He noted that since that first desire to leave him, Lydie had made noother attempt to go. She was sitting in the angle of the rough gardenseat, her graceful arm resting on the back, her cheek leaning againsther hand. A gentle breeze stirred the little curls round her head, andnow, when he spoke so earnestly and so sadly about his sorrow, a swiftlook of sympathy softened the haughty expression of her mouth.
Quick to notice it, Gaston nevertheless in no way relaxed his attitudeof humble supplication; he stood before her with head bent, his eyesmostly riveted on the ground.
"There is so little consolation that I can give," she said moregently.
"There is a great one, if you will but try."
"What is it?"
"Do not cast me out from your life altogether. Am I such a despicablecreature that you cannot now and then vouchsafe me one kind look?. . . I did wrong you . . . I know it. . . . Call it treachery if youmust, yet when I look back on that night, meseems I am worthy of yourpity. Blinded by my overwhelming love for you, I forgot everything forone brief hour . . . forgot that I had sunk deeply in a pitfall--byHeaven through no fault of mine own! . . . forgot that another now hada claim on that love which never was mine to give, since it had alwaysbeen wholly yours. . . . Yes! I forgot! . . . the music, the noise,the excitement of the night, your own beauty, Lydie, momentarilyaddled my brain. . . . I forgot the past, I only lived for thepresent. Am I to blame because I am a man and that you are exquisitelyfair?"
He forced himself not to raise his voice, not to appear eager orvehement. Lydie only saw before her a man whom she had once loved, whohad grievously wronged her, but who now stood before her ashamed andhumbled, asking with utmost respect for her forgiveness of the past.
"Let us speak of it no longer," she said, "believe me, Gaston, I havenever borne you ill-will."
For the first time she had used his Christian name. The layer of icewas broken through, but the surface of the lake was still cold andsmooth.
"Nay! but you avoid me," he rejoined seeking to meet her eyes, "youtreat me with whole-hearted contempt, whilst I would lay down my lifeto serve you, and this in all deference and honour, as the martyrs ofold laid down their life for their faith."
"Protestations, Gaston," she said with a quick sigh.
"Let me prove them true," he urged. "Lydie, I watched you just now,while you slept; it was some minutes and I saw much. Your lips wereparted with constant sighs; there were tears at the points of yourlashes. At that moment I would have gladly died if thereby I couldhave eased your heart from the obvious burden which it bore."
Emboldened by her silence, and by the softer expression of her face,he sat down close beside her, and anon placed his hand on hers. Shewithdrew it quietly and serenely as was her wont, but quite withoutanger.
She certainly felt no anger toward him. Strangely enough, the angershe did feel was all against her husband. That Gaston had seen hergrief was in a measure humiliating to her pride, and this humiliationshe owed to the great wrong done her by milor. And Gaston had beenclever at choosing his words; he appealed to her pity and asked forforgiveness. There was no attempt on his part to justify himself, andhis self-abasement broke down the barrier of resentment which up tonow she had set up against him. His respectful homage soothed herwounded pride, and she felt really, sincerely sorry for him.
The fact that her own actions had been so gravely misunderstood alsohelped Gaston's cause; she felt that, after all, she too might havepassed a hasty, unconsidered judgment on him, and knew now how acutelysuch a judgment can hurt.
And he spoke very earnestly, very simply: remember that she had lovedhim once, loved and trusted him. He had been the ideal of hergirlhood, and though she had remorselessly hurled him down from hishigh pedestal since then, there remained nevertheless, somewhere inthe depths of her heart, a lingering thought of tenderness for him.
"Lydie!" he now said appealingly.
"Yes?"
"Let me be the means of easing your heart from its load of sorrow. Youspoke of my wife just now. See, I do not shirk the mention of hername. I swear to you by that early love for you which was the noblest,purest emotion of my life, that I do not wrong her by a single thoughtwhen I ask for your friendship. You are so immeasurably superior toall other women, Lydie, that in your presence passion itself becomesexalted and desire transformed into a craving for sacrifice."
"Oh! how I wish I could believe you, Gaston," she sighed.
"Try me!"
"How?"
"Let me guess what troubles you now. Oh! I am not the empty-headed fopthat you would believe. I have ears and eyes, and if I hold aloof fromCourt intrigues, it is only because I see too much of their innerworkings. Do you really believe that I do not see what goes on aroundme now? Do I not know how your noble sympathy must at this very momentbe going out to the unfortunate young prince whom you honour with yourfriendship? Surely, surely, you cannot be a party to the criminalsupineness which at this very moment besets France, and causes her toabandon him to his fate?"
"Not France, Gaston," she protested.
"And not you, surely. I would stake my life on your loyalty to afriend."
"Of course," she said simply.
"I knew it," he ejaculated triumphantly, as if this discovery hadindeed caused him joyful surprise. "Every fibre in my soul told methat I would not appeal to you in vain. You are clever, Lydie, you arerich, you are powerful. I feel as if I could turn to you as to a man.Prince Charles Edward Stuart honoured me with his friendship: I am notpresumptuous when I say that I stood in his heart second only to LordEglinton. . . . But because I hold a secondary place I dared notthrust my advice, my prayers, my help forward, whilst I firmlybelieved that his greater friend was at work on his behalf. But now Ican bear the suspense no longer. The crisis has become over-acute. TheStuart prince is in deadly danger, not only from supineness but fromtreachery."
Clever Gaston! how subtle and how shrewd! she would never have to cometo meet him on this ground, but he called to her. He came to fetchher, as it were, and led her along the road. He did not offer to guideher faltering footsteps, he simulated lameness, and asked forassistance instead of offering it.
So clever was this move that Lydie was thrown off her guard. At theword "treachery" she looked eagerly into his eyes.
"What makes you think . . . ?" she asked.
"Oh! I have scented it in the air for some days. The King himselfwears an air of shamefacedness when the Stuart prince is mentioned.Madame de Pompadour lately hath talked freely of the completion of herchateau in the Parc aux Cerfs, as if money were forthcoming from someunexpected source; then a letter came from England, which His Majestykeeps hidden in his pocket, whilst whispered conversations are carriedon between the King and Madame, which cease abruptly if any one comeswithin earshot. Then to-day . . ."
"Yes? . . . to-day?" she asked eagerly.
"I hardly dare speak of it."
"Why?"
"I fear it might give you pain."
"I am used to pain," she said simply, "and I would wish to know."
"I was in the antechamber when His Majesty arrived for _le petitlever_ of M. le Controleur. I had had vague hopes of seeing you thismorning, and lingered about the reception rooms somewhat listlessly,my thoughts dwelling on all the sad news which has lately come fromScotland. In the antechamber His Majesty was met by M. le Ducd'Aumont, your father."
He paused again as if loth to speak, but she said quite calmly:
"And you overheard something which the Duke, my father, said to theKing, and which confirmed your suspicions. What was it?"
"It was His Majesty who spoke, obviously not aware that I was withinearshot. He said quite airily: 'Oh! if we cannot persuade milor wemust act independently of him. The Stuart will be tired by now ofliving in crags and will not be so chary of entrusting his valuableperson to a comfortable French ship.' Then M. le Duc placed a hand onHis Majesty's arm warning him of my presence and nothing more wassaid."
"Then you think that the
King of France is about to deliver PrinceCharles Edward Stuart to his enemies?" she asked calmly.
"I am sure of it: and the thought is more than I can bear. And I amnot alone in this, Lydie. The whole of France will cry out in shame atsuch perfidy. Heaven knows what will come of it ultimately, butsurely, surely we cannot allow that unfortunate young prince whom weall loved and _feted_ to be thus handed over to the Englishauthorities! That is why I have dared intrude on you to-day. Lydie,"he added now in a passionate appeal; "for the sake of that noble ifmisguided young prince, will you try and forget the terrible wrongwhich I in my madness and blindness once did you? Do not allow my sinto be expiated by him! . . . I crave your help for him on my knees.. . . Hate me an you will! despise me and punish me, but do not denyme your help for him!"
His voice, though sunk now almost to a whisper, was vibrating withpassion. He half dropped on his knees, took the edge of her skirtbetween his fingers and raised it to his lips.
Clever, clever Gaston! he had indeed moved her. Her serenity had gone,and her cold impassiveness. She sat up, erect, palpitating withexcitement, her eyes glowing, her lips parted, all her senses awakeand thrilling with this unexpected hope.
"In what manner do you wish for my help, Gaston?"
"I think the King and M. le Duc will do nothing for a day or two atany rate. I hoped I could forestall them, with your help, Lydie, ifyou will give it. I am not rich, but I have realized some of myfortune: my intention was to charter a seaworthy boat, equip her aswell as my means allowed and start for Scotland immediately, and thenif possible to induce the prince to cross over with me to Ireland, or,with great good luck I might even bring him back as far as Brittany.But you see how helpless I was, for I dared not approach you, and I donot know where I can find the prince."
"And if I do not give you that help which you need?" she asked.
"I would still charter the vessel and start for Scotland," he repliedquietly. "I cannot stay here, in inactivity whilst I feel thatinfamous treachery is being planned against a man with whom I haveoften broken bread. If you will not tell me where I can find CharlesEdward Stuart, I will still equip a vessel and try and find himsomehow. If I fail, I will not return, but at any rate I shall thennot be a party or a witness to the everlasting shame of France!"
"Your expedition would require great pluck and endurance."
"I have both, and boundless enthusiasm to boot. Two or three friendswill accompany me, and my intention was to start for Brest or Le Havreto-night. But if you will consent to help me, Lydie . . ."
"Nay!" she interrupted eagerly. "I'll not help you. 'Tis you who shallhelp me!"
"Lydie!"
"The plan which you have formed I too had thought on it: the treacheryof the King of France, my God! I knew it too. But my plans are moremature than yours, less noble and self-sacrificing, for, as you say, Ihave power and influence; yet with all that power I could not servePrince Charles Edward as I would wish to do, because though I havepluck and endurance I am not a man."
"And you want me to help you? Thank God! thank God for that! Tell mewhat to do."
"To start for Le Havre--not Brest."
"Yes!"
"This afternoon . . . reaching Le Havre before dawn."
"Yes."
"There to seek out _Le Monarque_. She lies in the harbour, and hercommander is Captain Barre."
"Yes! yes!"
"You will hand him over a packet, which I will give you anon, and thenreturn here as swiftly as you went."
"Is that all?" he asked in obvious disappointment, "and I who hadhoped that you would ask me to give my life for you!"
"The faithful and speedy performance of this errand, Gaston, is worththe most sublime self-sacrifice, if this be purposeless. The packetwill contain full instructions for Captain Barre how and where to findPrince Charles Edward. _Le Monarque_ is ready equipped for theexpedition, but . . ." she paused a moment as if half ashamed of theadmission, "I had no one whom I could entrust with the message."
Gaston de Stainville was too keen a diplomatist to venture on thisdelicate ground. He had never once mentioned her husband's name,fearing to scare her, or to sting her pride. He knew her to be far tooloyal to allow condemnation of her lord by the lips of another man;all he said now was a conventional:
"I am ready!"
Then she rose and held out her hand to him. He bowed with greatdeference, and kissed the tips of her fingers. His face expressednothing but the respectful desire to be of service, and not onethought of treachery disturbed Lydie's serenity. Historians have, weknow, blamed her very severely for this unconditional yielding ofanother's secret into the keeping of a man who had already deceivedher once; but it was the combination of circumstances which caused herto act thus, and Gaston's masterly move in asking for her help hadcompletely subjugated her. She would have yielded to no other emotion,but that of compassion for him, and the desire to render himassistance in a cause which she herself had so deeply at heart. Shehad no love for Gaston and no amount of the usual protestations wouldhave wrung a confidence from her. But he had so turned the tables thatit appeared that he was confiding in her; and her pride, which hadbeen so deeply humiliated that self-same morning, responded to hisappeal. If she had had the least doubt or fear in her mind, she wouldnot have given up her secret, but as he stood so coldly andimpassively before her, without a trace of passion in his voice orlook, she had absolutely no misgivings.
"I can be in the saddle at four o'clock," he said in the sameunemotional tones, "when and how can I receive the packet from you?"
"Will you wait for me here?" she replied. "The packet is quite ready,and the walls of the palace have eyes and ears."
Thus they parted. She full of confidence and hope, not in any wayattempting to disguise before him the joy and gratitude which shefelt, he the more calm of the two, fearing to betray his sense oftriumph, still trembling lest her present mood should change.
Her graceful figure quickly disappeared among the trees. He gave asigh of intense satisfaction. His Majesty would be pleased, and Madamede Pompadour would be more than kind. Never for a moment did the leastfeeling of remorse trouble his complacent mind; the dominant thoughtin him was one of absolute triumph and pride at having succeeded inhoodwinking the keenest statesman in France. He sat down on the gardenseat whereon had been fought that close duel between himself and thewoman whom he had once already so heartlessly betrayed. He thoughtover every stage of the past scene and smiled somewhat grimly. He feltquite sure that he individually would never have trusted for thesecond time a woman who had once deceived him. But Lydie had no suchmisgivings; as she now sped through the park, she no longer saw itsartificiality, its stunted rose trees and the stultified plantations.The air was invigorating to breathe, the fragrance of the flowers wassweet, the birds' twitter was delicious to the ear. There were goodand beautiful things in this world, but the best of all was theloyalty of a friend.
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