Orrain: A Romance by S. Levett Yeats
CHAPTER XVII
MADEMOISELLE DECIDES
So the rubber between De Ganache and myself had begun, and although Ihad been the means of saving his life this morning I was determined toput it to the last issue rather than see myself defeated in this matterby him.
Mademoiselle would at any rate find that if I were a gaoler I was onewho looked well after his charge. So I gave instructions to Pierrebonto take my place in the room, and on no account to stir forth unless Icalled him. I further added that if anyone came to the door he shouldpretend to be sleeping heavily. With this I took my drawn sword in myhand and stepped softly into the passage. On reaching the room wherewe had supped I found it apparently deserted, the only light being froma lantern which burnt dimly on the dining-table. The shadow of thestairway leading above fell athwart the room, and as I lookedcautiously around the clock in the hall beyond struck eleven. I waitedpatiently for any sign of movement or life; but there was none.Satisfied at last that I was alone I stepped forward, and made my wayquickly but noiselessly to the stair. Beneath this there was roomenough to stand, and hidden by the darkness, the overhanging stair, andthe angle of the wall I was perfectly concealed. Here I determined towatch, through the night if need be. The discovery that this stairwaywas the only passage from above strengthened my position greatly, forunless mademoiselle were possessed of wings, and it had not come tothat as yet, she would have to pass this way, and then I hoped to beable to persuade her how rash and useless her attempt was.
The minutes dragged on like hours, as they always do in affairs of thisnature. I chafed at the restraint of my position, and had no intentionof acting the eavesdropper longer than I could help it, but for themoment I was forced to lie in ambush. All was quiet and still, sostill that some mice came out, and sought for such crumbs as they couldfind on the floor around the dining-table. Suddenly there came thesound of footsteps along the passage. In a flash the mice hadvanished, and two men entered the room. They were the landlord and DeGanache, the latter booted and spurred and wearing the hat that waslent to him, or rather given to him, this morning. He sat down on achair at the dining-table, and placed his hat beside him, running hisfingers through the red plumes.
"_Eh bien_," he said, with a laugh, "Monsieur there sleeps soundly. Itwill be a great awakening in the morning. I should not advise you tobe here, Pechaud." And with this he turned up the lantern, so that thelight fell more strongly on his clear-cut face and blue eyes. He was ahandsome man, and one well formed to win a woman's heart; but with allthis there were the marks of a weak and irresolute nature on hiscountenance, and as I looked I thought to myself that here was one who,if he fell, would fall utterly.
Pechaud the landlord, who stood respectfully near De Ganache, laughedtoo as he heard the Vicomte's words.
"I shall be careful, monsieur," he said. "My only fear is that theywill find it so difficult to follow that they may stay hereindefinitely."
"The trooper is a knave for all that, and deserves to hang; but it waswell conceived--the cutting of the saddlery." And then they bothlaughed again. I had a mind to join in their humour, and it was hardto refrain from chuckling a little on my own account.
"'Tis a pity you could not get mademoiselle's horse."
"It was impossible, monsieur; but you will find mine carry her as well,and it is even now ready.
"Well; it does not much matter." And rising De Ganache opened thewindow and looked forth.
"It is a night of stars," he said, "and dark. Lord! if we but had amoon!"
"Monsieur will find the guide lead you well."
"I want no guide on my own lands, Pechaud. Night and day are one to mewhen I ride across them. But this guide: who is he?"
"I myself, monsieur."
"You! And yet, perhaps, 'tis as well; but I fear me, old friend, thatthe sky will be red behind us with the flames of this good inn; theywill not forego that revenge."
"Let it be so, monsieur. My ancestors have followed yours for twocenturies, and taken the good with the bad--and I am as they are; youknow this."
De Ganache looked at him, and as I heard this faithful retainer's wordsI began to understand the force that my opponent had on his side.After a moment's pause Pechaud continued:
"But, monsieur, a word from an old man. How long is this to last? Whyare you not at the King's side, as your forefathers ever were? Makeyour peace with the Court, as Monsieur d'Andelot and the Admiral havedone----"
"Enough, Pechaud! Perhaps I will take your advice, and that soon; butfor the present I must pull my sword-belt in by a hole, and see that mysaddlery at any rate is right. As for this Monsieur Broussel, he toldmademoiselle that he knew me, but I have never set eyes on him that Iknow. What manner of man is he?"
"Monsieur, we have just heard him as he slept."
De Ganache shrugged his shoulders and glanced up at the clock.
"It is time," he said. "Warn mademoiselle."
Pechaud turned; but even as he did so there was a light step on thestairs, and mademoiselle came down dressed for travelling, and holdingher riding-whip in her hand. As she passed she glanced swiftly in mydirection, and for the moment I thought I was discovered; but theshadow was impenetrable, and she went on. De Ganache rose to receiveher, holding out his hand. I noticed that she barely touched it, asshe asked quickly:
"Is all ready?"
"Everything, Diane." And I winced at the familiar address.
"De Ganache," she said, "I had your word for it that no harm shouldbefall Monsieur Broussel. He risked his life for me, and I owe it tohim that I stand here alive; what have you done with him?"
De Ganache smiled. "Even if he had not acted as he has, if he were mybitter foe, your word would have been law to me. Monsieur Broussel isalive and well. If we had time I would take you down the passage andshow him to you--sleeping the sleep of the just."
"Forgive me! I know not what it is. I am haunted by all sorts offears----"
"Then fear no more," he said gently, trying to take her hand, but shewithdrew it from him. And then he dropped his arm, and went on: "Byto-morrow evening you will be with friends, and, perhaps, you willlearn by then that there are others ready and willing to die for you ifneed be."
"Gaston!" she said; and now it was she held out her hand, and he bentrespectfully over it as he touched it with his lips.
To tell truth, I was suffering more torture than if I had been runthrough, for in Diane's last word I felt all my hopes vanish, I wastaken off my cross, however, by the necessity for action, for Pechaud,who had discreetly retired at mademoiselle's entrance, now returned,and announced that the horses were ready.
"Come!" said De Ganache, and as he said so I stepped out and facedthem. It was a bolt from the blue. Mademoiselle shrank back with alittle startled cry. Pechaud stood as one petrified, his jaws agape,and his old hands trembling, whilst De Ganache put himself between meand mademoiselle, his hand on the hilt of his sword.
"Stand back!" he said hotly. "Back!"
And as hot an answer trembled on my tongue, but I held myself in.
"Monsieur, you do not seem to know me. Shall I remind you of thismorning?"
At my words it was he who went back; his hand left his sword-hilt, andhe stood staring at me.
"You!" he stammered. "I did not recognise--I--I did not know----"
"Enough, monsieur! I forgive you the ill turn you were about to playme. Perhaps, were I in your case, I would do the same----"
"If so, then my course is clear. In any other thing I would yield toyou, but not in this."
"Listen. Your plan was well laid; but my men are not traitors, andI--I have not slept. Monsieur de Ganache, I have but to raise myvoice, and there will be three to one against you----"
"I care not," he answered furiously, and his sword flashed in his hand,but in a moment Diane was between us.
"De Ganache! Monsieur Broussel! Put back your swords, I implore you!"
And with this she clung to
"Diane, 'tis our only way! Keep back, Diane!"
But for answer she clung all the more to him, and it seemed as if shewere covering him from my sword, as she cried out again: "No, no! Itis too terrible! I will not have it! It must not be!"
I looked from one to another, a hundred emotions tearing at my heart.I had seen enough to understand how these two stood to one another,and, utterly miserable at heart, I gave way. A sudden impulse, thatcarried me as like a wave, seized me, and I burst out:
"Monsieur de Ganache, let it be for Mademoiselle de Paradis to decidebetween us. I give you my word I will abide by her choice."
Diane let her hand fall from De Ganache's arm and turned to me inastonishment. And De Ganache stared at me with wide-open eyes, andasked slowly, dropping his words out:
"You say this?--you pledge your word?"
"I have said so. I undertook to take mademoiselle to Paris, and to seeher in safety there, at the cost of my life if need be. I have sincelearned that which makes it impossible for me to do this unlessmademoiselle comes with me of her own free will. I leave her to makeher choice."
"Then, Diane, come!" And De Ganache turned towards her, a handoutstretched. I stepped aside to leave the way free, but to mysurprise mademoiselle made no answer, but stood in wavering hesitation,now looking at one and then at the other of us. Once more De Ganachebegan to urge her, stepping quite close up and speaking in low butquick and earnest tones.
"Diane, the very stars are with us! What is there that makes youhesitate? By to-morrow evening we will be with our own people, andhenceforth I will always be by your side to defend you."
She stopped him with an impatient gesture of her hand. Even where shestood in the half light I saw the red rush to her cheeks at his lastwords; and then she asked:
"Monsieur Broussel, I too have been learning, or rather guessing, atsome things since I came down here. Is it you that Monsieur le Vicomtehas to thank for his life?"
I did not answer; but De Ganache began to speak as one defendinghimself:
"I do thank him; but when I told you of this I did not know MonsieurBroussel's name, Diane."
"All this does not concern the matter," I cut in. "What mademoisellehas to decide is whether she will go on to Paris or not. Which shallit be?" And I faced her.
A little silence, and her eyes refused to meet mine. Then she saidfaintly: "I--I do not know."
All depended on a single turn, but it was De Ganache himself who threwhis cards away. Stepping up to mademoiselle he put his arm throughhers, and with an air of command, almost proprietorship, he said:
"Come, Diane, we waste time here, and we have far to go. I shall giveMonsieur Broussel his thanks another day."
She looked up at him--such a look!--and withdrew her arm.
"Monsieur de Ganache," she said, "you take too much on yourself. Ihave decided, and I shall go to Paris."
De Ganache looked at her and laughed bitterly. Then he broke forthinto weak reviling at womankind. She let him run on, and at last heasked:
"And after all I have done and risked this--this is your answer?"
"My answer--to everything, monsieur." And with this she turned fromhim, and passing me went up the stair, back to her apartments.
I was standing a little apart, leaning on my sword, hardly able tobelieve my ears, and wondering at the ways of womankind. De Ganachehad taken up his hat, and was nervously tearing at the plume, his lipsmoving with unspoken words. All at once he turned to me, and his voicewas hoarse with passion:
"Monsieur, you have won. I set this against this morning. And we arequits. Quits, you understand?"
I bowed, but made no answer. The man was beside himself, and theslightest word would have led to his drawing on me, and formademoiselle's sake I held myself in.
"Pechaud!" he went on, "my horse."
And crushing his hat on his head he passed me without another word andwent to the door. Pechaud followed him, and began to urge something,but was silenced with a rough word. Then he called for a light.Pechaud came running back for the lantern, and through the open door,as the light flickered on him, I saw De Ganache mount. Once he glancedback at me. He could see nothing, for I was in darkness, but thelight which fell on his features showed him pale as ashes. The horsebacked a little. He drove his spurs in with an oath, and then Iheard him hammering through the night, going--God knows whither.Beat--beat--beat--the iron-shod hoofs rushed through the village, andthe dogs awoke, and barked, barked and howled, long after he had passedon his reckless course.
I waited a little, and then called to Pechaud. He came back slowly,and set his lantern with a trembling hand on the table. For the restof the night we were in safety--that I knew.
"It grows late, Maitre Pechaud," I said, "and I need rest." And so Ileft him.