Under the Red Robe

by Stanley John Weyman

  CHAPTER III. THE HOUSE IN THE WOOD

  Words so reckless fairly shook the three men out of their anger. Fora moment they glared at me as if they had seen a ghost. Then the winemerchant clapped his hand on the table.

  'That is enough,' he said, with a look at his companions. 'I think thatthere can be no mistake about that. As damnable treason as ever I heardwhispered! I congratulate you, sir, on your boldness. As for you,' hecontinued, turning with an ugly sneer to the landlord, 'I shall know nowthe company you keep! I was not aware that my wine wet whistles to sucha tune!'

  But if he was startled, the innkeeper was furious, seeing his characterthus taken away; and, being at no time a man of many words, he ventedhis rage exactly in the way I wished, raising in a twinkling such anuproar as can scarcely be conceived. With a roar like a bull's, he ranheadlong at the table, and overturned it on the top of me. Fortunatelythe woman saved the lamp, and fled with it into a corner, whence she andthe man from the Chateau watched the skirmish in silence; but the pewtercups and platters flew spinning across the floor, while the tablepinned me to the ground among the ruins of my stool. Having me at thisdisadvantage--for at first I made no resistance the landlord began tobelabour me with the first thing he snatched up, and when I tried todefend myself, cursed me with each blow for a treacherous rogue and avagrant. Meanwhile the three merchants, delighted with the turn thingshad taken, skipped round us laughing, and now hounded him on, nowbantered me with 'how is that for the Duke of Orleans?' and 'How now,traitor?'

  When I thought that this had lasted long enough--or, to speak moreplainly, when I could stand the innkeeper's drubbing no longer--I threwhim off, and struggled to my feet; but still, though the blood wastrickling down my face, I refrained from drawing my sword. I caughtup instead a leg of the stool which lay handy, and, watching myopportunity, dealt the landlord a shrewd blow under the ear, which laidhim out in a moment on the wreck of his own table.

  'Now,' I cried, brandishing my new weapon, which fitted the hand to anicety, 'come on! Come on! if you dare to strike a blow, you peddling,truckling, huckstering knaves! A fig for you and your shavelingCardinal!'

  The red-faced wine merchant drew his sword in a one-two.

  'Why, you drunken fool,' he said wrathfully, 'put that stick down, or Iwill spit you like a lark!'

  'Lark in your teeth!' I cried, staggering as if the wine were in myhead. 'And cuckoo, too! Another word, and I--'

  He made a couple of savage passes at me, but in a twinkling his swordflew across the room.

  'VOILA!' I shouted, lurching forward, as if I had luck and not skillto thank for my victory. 'Now, the next! Come on, come on--youwhite-livered knaves!' And, pretending a drunken frenzy, I flung myweapon bodily amongst them, and seizing the nearest, began to wrestlewith him.

  In a moment they all threw themselves upon me, and, swearing copiously,bore me back to the door. The wine merchant cried breathlessly tothe woman to open it, and in a twinkling they had me through it, andhalf-way across the road. The one thing I feared was a knife-thrust inthe MELEE; but I had to run that risk, and the men were honest, and,thinking me drunk, indulgent. In a trice I found myself on my back inthe dirt, with my head humming; and heard the bars of the door fallnoisily into their places.

  I got up and went to the door, and, to play out my part, hammered on itfrantically; crying out to them to let me in. But the three travellersonly jeered at me, and the landlord, coming to the window, with his headbleeding, shook his fist at me, and cursed me for a mischief-maker.

  Baffled in this, I retired to a log which lay in the road a few pacesfrom the house, and sat down on it to await events. With torn clothesand bleeding face, hatless and covered with dirt, I was in little bettercase than my opponent. It was raining, too, and the dripping branchesswayed over my head. The wind was in the south--the coldest quarter.I began to feel chilled and dispirited. If my scheme failed, I hadforfeited roof and bed to no purpose, and placed future progress out ofthe question. It was a critical moment.

  But at last that happened for which I had been looking. The door swungopen a few inches, and a man came noiselessly out; it was quickly barredbehind him. He stood a moment, waiting on the threshold and peeringinto the gloom; and seemed to expect to be attacked. Finding himselfunmolested, however, and all quiet, he went off steadily down thestreet--towards the Chateau.

  I let a couple of minutes go by, and then I followed. I had nodifficulty in hitting on the track at the end of the street, but whenI had once plunged into the wood, I found myself in darkness so intensethat I soon strayed from the path, and fell over roots, and tore myclothes with thorns, and lost my temper twenty times before I foundthe path again. However, I gained the bridge at last, and thence caughtsight of a light twinkling before me. To make for it across the meadowand terrace was an easy task; yet, when I had reached the door and hadhammered upon it, I was so worn out, and in so sorry a plight that Isank down, and had little need to play a part, or pretend to be worsethan I was.

  For a long time no one answered. The dark house towering above meremained silent. I could hear, mingled with the throbbings of my heart,the steady croaking of the frogs in a pond near the stables; but noother sound. In a frenzy of impatience and disgust, I stood up again andhammered, kicking with my heels on the nail-studded door, and crying outdesperately,--

  'A MOI! A MOI!'

  Then, or a moment later, I heard a remote door opened; footsteps as ofmore than one person drew near. I raised my voice and cried again,--

  'A MOI!'

  'Who is there?' a voice asked.

  'A gentleman in distress,' I answered piteously, moving my hands acrossthe door. 'For God's sake open and let me in. I am hurt, and dying ofcold.'

  'What brings you here?' the voice asked sharply. Despite its tartness, Ifancied that it was a woman's.

  'Heaven knows!' I answered desperately. 'I cannot tell. They maltreatedme at the inn, and threw me into the street. I crawled away, and havebeen wandering in the wood for hours. Then I saw a light here.'

  On that some muttering took place on the other side of the door--towhich I had my ear. It ended in the bars being lowered. The door swungpartly open, and a light shone out, dazzling me. I tried to shade myeyes with my fingers, and, as did so, fancied I heard a murmur of pity.But when I looked in under screen of my hand, I saw only one person--theman who held the light, and his aspect was so strange, so terrifying,that, shaken as I was by fatigue, I recoiled a step.

  He was a tall and very thin man, meanly dressed in a short, scantyjacket and well-darned hose. Unable, for some reason, to bend his neck,he carried his head with a strange stiffness.

  And that head--never did living man show a face so like death. Hisforehead was bald and yellow, his cheek-bones stood out under thestrained skin, all the lower part of his face fell in, his jaws receded,his cheeks were hollow, his lips and chin were thin and fleshless. Heseemed to have only one expression--a fixed grin.

  While I stood looking at this formidable creature, he made a quickmovement to shut the door again, smiling more widely. I had the presenceof mind to thrust in my foot, and, before he could resent the act, avoice in the background cried,--

  'For shame, Clon! Stand back, stand back! do you hear? I am afraid,Monsieur, that you are hurt.'

  Those words were my welcome to that house; and, spoken at an hour and incircumstances so gloomy, they made a lasting impression. Round thehall ran a gallery, and this, the height of the apartment, and the darkpanelling seemed to swallow up the light. I stood within the entrance(as it seemed to me) of a huge cave; the skull-headed porter had the airof an ogre. Only the voice which greeted me dispelled the illusion. Iturned trembling towards the quarter whence it came, and, shading myeyes, made out a woman's form standing in a doorway under the gallery. Asecond figure, which I took to be that of the servant I had seen at theinn, loomed uncertainly beside her.

  I bowed in silence. My teeth were chattering. I was faint withoutfeigning, and felt a kind of terror, hard to explain,
at the sound ofthis woman's voice.

  'One of our people has told me about you, she continued, speaking out ofthe darkness. 'I am sorry that this has happened to you here, but I amafraid that you were indiscreet.'

  'I take all the blame, Madame,' I answered humbly. 'I ask only shelterfor the night.'

  'The time has not yet come when we cannot give our friends that!' sheanswered with noble courtesy. 'When it does, Monsieur, we shall behomeless ourselves.'

  I shivered, looking anywhere but at her; for, if the truth be told,I had not sufficiently pictured this scene of my arrival--I had notforedrawn its details; and now I took part in it I felt a miserablemeanness weigh me down. I had never from the first liked the work, but Ihad had no choice, and I had no choice now. Luckily, the guise in whichI came, my fatigue, and wound were a sufficient mask, or I should haveincurred suspicion at once. For I am sure that if ever in this world abrave man wore a hang-dog air, or Gil de Berault fell below himself,it was then and there--on Madame de Cocheforet's threshold, with herwelcome sounding in my ears.

  One, I think, did suspect me. Clon, the porter, continued to hold thedoor obstinately ajar and to eye me with grinning spite, until hismistress, with some sharpness, bade him drop the bars and conduct me toa room.

  'Do you go also, Louis,' she continued, speaking to the man beside her,'and see this gentleman comfortably disposed. I am sorry,' she added,addressing me in the graceful tone she had before used, and I thoughtthat I could see her head bend in the darkness, 'that our presentcircumstances do not permit us to welcome you more fitly, Monsieur. Butthe troubles of the times--however, you will excuse what is lacking.Until to-morrow, I have the honour to bid you good-night.'

  'Good-night, Madame,' I stammered, trembling. I had not been able todistinguish her face in the gloom of the doorway, but her voice, hergreeting, her presence unmanned me. I was troubled and perplexed; Ihad not spirit to kick a dog. I followed the two servants from the hallwithout heeding how we went; nor was it until we came to a full stopat a door in a white-washed corridor, and it was forced upon me thatsomething was in question between my two conductors that I began to takenotice.

  Then I saw that one of them, Louis, wished to lodge me here where westood. The porter, on the other hand, who held the keys, would not. Hedid not speak a word, nor did the other--and this gave a queer ominouscharacter to the debate; but he continued to jerk his head towards thefarther end of the corridor; and, at last, he carried his point. Louisshrugged his shoulders, and moved on, glancing askance at me; and I, notunderstanding the matter in debate, followed the pair in silence.

  We reached the end of the corridor, and there for an instant the monsterwith the keys paused and grinned at me. Then he turned into a narrowpassage on the left, and after following it for some paces, haltedbefore a small, strong door. His key jarred in the lock, but he forcedit shrieking round, and with a savage flourish threw the door open.

  I walked in and saw a mean, bare chamber with barred windows. The floorwas indifferently clean, there was no furniture. The yellow light ofthe lanthorn falling on the stained walls gave the place the look ofa dungeon. I turned to the two men. 'This is not a very good room,' Isaid. 'And it feels damp. Have you no other?'

  Louis looked doubtfully at his companion. But the porter shook his headstubbornly.

  'Why does he not speak?' I asked with impatience.

  'He is dumb,' Louis answered.

  'Dumb!' I exclaimed. 'But he hears.'

  'He has ears,' the servant answered drily. 'But he has no tongue,Monsieur.'

  I shuddered. 'How did he lose it?' I asked.

  'At Rochelle. He was a spy, and the king's people took him the day thetown surrendered. They spared his life, but cut out his tongue.'

  'Ah!' I said. I wished to say more, to be natural, to show myself at myease. But the porter's eyes seemed to burn into me, and my own tongueclave to the roof of my mouth. He opened his lips and pointed to histhroat with a horrid gesture, and I shook my head and turned fromhim--'You can let me have some bedding?' I murmured hastily, for thesake of saying something, and to escape.

  'Of course, Monsieur,' Louis answered. 'I will fetch some.'

  He went away, thinking doubtless that Clon would stay with me. But afterwaiting a minute the porter strode off also with the lanthorn, leavingme to stand in the middle of the damp, dark room and reflect on theposition. It was plain that Clon suspected me. This prison-like room,with its barred window, at the back of the house, and in the wingfarthest from the stables, proved so much. Clearly, he was a dangerousfellow, of whom I must beware. I had just begun to wonder how Madamecould keep such a monster in her house, when I heard his step returning.He came in, lighting Louis, who carried a small pallet and a bundle ofcoverings.

  The dumb man had, besides the lanthorn, a bowl of water and a piece ofrag in his hand. He set them down, and going out again, fetched in astool. Then he hung up the lanthorn on a nail, took the bowl and rag,and invited me to sit down.

  I was loth to let him touch me; but he continued to stand over me,pointing and grinning with dark persistence, and rather than stand ona trifle I sat down at last and gave him his way. He bathed my headcarefully enough, and I daresay did it good; but I understood. Iknew that his only desire was to learn whether the cut was real or apretence, and I began to fear him more and more; until he was gone fromthe room, I dared scarcely lift my face lest he should read too much init.

  Alone, even, I felt uncomfortable, this seemed so sinister a business,and so ill begun. I was in the house. But Madame's frank voice hauntedme, and the dumb man's eyes, full of suspicion and menace. When Ipresently got up and tried my door, I found it locked. The room smeltdank and close--like a vault. I could not see through the barred window,but I could hear the boughs sweep it in ghostly fashion; and I guessedthat it looked out where the wood grew close to the walls of the house,and that even in the day the sun never peeped through it.

  Nevertheless, tired and worn out, I slept at last. When I awoke the roomwas full of grey light, the door stood open, and Louis, looking ashamedof himself, waited by my pallet with a cup of wine in his hand, and somebread and fruit on a platter.

  'Will Monsieur be good enough to rise?' he said. 'It is eight o'clock.'

  'Willingly,' I answered tartly. 'Now that the door is unlocked.'

  He turned red. 'It was an oversight,' he stammered 'Clon is accustomedto lock the door, and he did it inadvertently, forgetting that there wasanyone--'

  'Inside,' I said drily.

  'Precisely, Monsieur.'

  'Ah!' I replied. 'Well, I do not think the oversight would please Madamede Cocheforet if she heard of it?'

  'If Monsieur would have the kindness not to--'

  'Mention it, my good fellow?' answered, looking at him with meaning as Irose. 'No. But it must not occur again.'

  I saw that this man was not like Clon. He had the instincts of thefamily servant, and freed from the influences of fear and darkness feltashamed of his conduct. While he arranged my clothes, he looked roundthe room with an air of distaste, and muttered once or twice that thefurniture of the principal chambers was packed away.

  'M. de Cocheforet is abroad, I think?' I said as I dressed.

  'And likely to remain there,' the man answered carelessly, shrugging hisshoulders. 'Monsieur will doubtless have heard that he is in trouble. Inthe meantime, the house is TRISTE, and Monsieur must overlook much, ifhe stays. Madame lives retired, and the roads are ill-made and visitorsfew.'

  'When the lion was ill the jackals left him,' I said.

  Louis nodded. 'It is true,' he answered simply. He made no boast orbrag on his own account, I noticed; and it came home to me that he wasa faithful fellow, such as I love. I questioned him discreetly, andlearned that he and Clon and an older man who lived over the stableswere the only male servants left of a great household. Madame, hersister-in-law, and three women completed the family.

  It took me some time to repair my wardrobe, so that I daresay it wasnearly ten when
I left my dismal little room. I found Louis waiting inthe corridor, and he told me that Madame de Cocheforet and Mademoisellewere in the rose garden, and would be pleased to receive me. I nodded,and he guided me through several dim passages to a parlour with an opendoor, through which the sun shone gaily on the floor. Cheered by themorning air and this sudden change to pleasantness and life, I steppedlightly out.

  The two ladies were walking up and down a wide path which bisected thegarden. The weeds grew rankly in the gravel underfoot, the rosebushes which bordered the walk thrust their branches here and there inuntrained freedom, a dark yew hedge which formed the background bristledwith rough shoots and sadly needed trimming. But I did not see any ofthese things. The grace, the noble air, the distinction of the two womenwho paced slowly to meet me--and who shared all these qualities, greatlyas they differed in others--left me no power to notice trifles.

  Mademoiselle was a head shorter than her BELLE-SOEUR--a slender womanand petite, with a beautiful face and a fair complexion; a woman whollywomanly. She walked with dignity, but beside Madame's stately figure shehad an air almost childish. And it was characteristic of the twothat Mademoiselle as they drew near to me regarded me with sorrowfulattention, Madame with a grave smile.

  I bowed low. They returned the salute. 'This is my sister,' Madame deCocheforet said, with a very slight air of condescension, 'Will youplease to tell me your name, Monsieur?'

  'I am M. de Barthe, a gentleman of Normandy,' I said, taking on impulsethe name of my mother. My own, by a possibility, might be known.

  Madame's face wore a puzzled look. 'I do not know that name, I think,'she said thoughtfully. Doubtless she was going over in her mind all thenames with which conspiracy had made her familiar.

  That is my misfortune, Madame,' I said humbly.

  'Nevertheless I am going to scold you,' she rejoined, still eyeing mewith some keenness. 'I am glad to see that you are none the worse foryour adventure--but others may be. And you should have borne that inmind, sir.'

  'I do not think that I hurt the man seriously,' I stammered.

  'I do not refer to that,' she answered coldly. 'You know, or shouldknow, that we are in disgrace here; that the Government regards usalready with an evil eye, and that a very small thing would lead them togarrison the village, and perhaps oust us from the little the wars haveleft us. You should have known this, and considered it,' she continued.'Whereas--I do not say that you are a braggart, M. de Barthe. But onthis one occasion you seem to have played the part of one.'

  'Madame, I did not think,' I stammered.

  'Want of thought causes much evil,' she answered, smiling. 'However, Ihave spoken, and we trust that while you stay with us you will be morecareful. For the rest, Monsieur,' she continued graciously, raising herhand to prevent me speaking, 'we do not know why you are here, or whatplans you are pursuing. And we do not wish to know. It is enough thatyou are of our side. This house is at your service as long as you pleaseto use it. And if we can aid you in any other way we will do so.'

  'Madame!' I exclaimed; and there I stopped. I could say no more. Therose garden, with its air of neglect, the shadow of the quiet house thatfell across it, the great yew hedge which backed it, and was the patternof one under which I had played in childhood--all had points thatpricked me. But the women's kindness, their unquestioning confidence,the noble air of hospitality which moved them! Against these and theirplacid beauty in its peaceful frame I had no shield, no defence. Iturned away, and feigned to be overcome by gratitude.

  'I have no words--to thank you!' I muttered presently. 'I am a littleshaken this morning. I--pardon me.'

  'We will leave you for a while,' Mademoiselle de Cocheforet said ingentle pitying tones. 'The air will revive you. Louis shall call youwhen we go to dinner, M. de Barthe. Come, Elise.'

  I bowed low to hide my face, and they nodded pleasantly--not lookingclosely at me--as they walked by me to the house. I watched the twogracious, pale-robed figures until the doorway swallowed them, and thenI walked away to a quiet corner where the shrubs grew highest and theyew hedge threw its deepest shadow, and I stood to think.

  And, MON DIEU, strange thoughts. If the oak can think at the moment thewind uproots it, or the gnarled thorn-bush when the landslip tears itfrom the slope, they may have such thoughts, I stared at the leaves,at the rotting blossoms, into the dark cavities of the hedge; I staredmechanically, dazed and wondering. What was the purpose for which I washere? What was the work I had come to do? Above all, how--my God! howwas I to do it in the face of these helpless women, who trusted me, whobelieved in me, who opened their house to me? Clon had not frightenedme, nor the loneliness of the leagued village, nor the remoteness ofthis corner where the dread Cardinal seemed a name, and the King's writran slowly, and the rebellion long quenched elsewhere, still smouldered.But Madame's pure faith, the younger woman's tenderness--how was I toface these?

  I cursed the Cardinal--would he had stayed at Luchon. I cursed theEnglish fool who had brought me to this, I cursed the years of plentyand scarceness, and the Quartier Marais, and Zaton's, where I had livedlike a pig, and--

  A touch fell on my arm. I turned. It was Clon. How he had stolen up soquietly, how long he had been at my elbow, I could not tell. But hiseyes gleamed spitefully in their deep sockets, and he laughed with hisfleshless lips; and I hated him. In the daylight the man looked morelike a death's-head than ever. I fancied that I read in his face that heknew my secret, and I flashed into rage at sight of him.

  'What is it?' I cried, with another oath. 'Don't lay your corpse-clawson me!'

  He mowed at me, and, bowing with ironical politeness, pointed to thehouse.

  'Is Madame served?' I said impatiently, crushing down my anger. 'Is thatwhat you mean, fool?'

  He nodded.

  'Very well,' I retorted. 'I can find my way then. You may go!'

  He fell behind, and I strode back through the sunshine and flowers, andalong the grass-grown paths, to the door by which I had come I walkedfast, but his shadow kept pace with me, driving out the unaccustomedthoughts in which I had been indulging. Slowly but surely it darkened mymood. After all, this was a little, little place; the people who livedhere--I shrugged my shoulders. France, power, pleasure, life, everythingworth winning, worth having, lay yonder in the great city. A boy mightwreck himself here for a fancy; a man of the world, never. When Ientered the room, where the two ladies stood waiting for me by thetable, I was nearly my old self again. And a chance word presentlycompleted the work.

  'Clon made you understand, then?' the young woman said kindly, as I tookmy seat.

  'Yes, Mademoiselle,' I answered. On that I saw the two smile at oneanother, and I added: 'He is a strange creature. I wonder that you canbear to have him near you.'

  'Poor man! You do not know his story?' Madame said.

  'I have heard something of it,' I answered. 'Louis told me.'

  'Well, I do shudder at him sometimes,' she replied, in a low voice. 'Hehas suffered--and horribly, and for us. But I wish that it had been onany other service. Spies are necessary things, but one does not wishto have to do with them! Anything in the nature of treachery is sohorrible.'

  'Quick, Louis!' Mademoiselle exclaimed, 'the cognac, if you have anythere! I am sure that you are--still feeling ill, Monsieur.'

  'No, I thank you,' I muttered hoarsely, making an effort to recovermyself. 'I am quite well. It was--an old wound that sometimes touchesme.'