The Women's War

  The drum beat a salute.

  ‘What does all this mean?’ the young man wondered. He went forward towards the fort, not understanding anything of what was going on, because all these preparations looked more like the military honours paid to a superior than precautions taken against a prisoner.

  This was not all. Canolles had not noticed that at the very moment when he got down from the carriage, a window had opened in the governor’s lodging, and an officer closely supervised the movements of the boat and the welcome given to the prisoner and his two guards. As soon as this officer saw that Canolles had set foot on the island, he came to meet him.

  ‘Ah, ha!’ Canolles said when he saw him. ‘Here’s the commander of the fort who has come to meet his tenant.’

  ‘Just so,’ said Barabbas. ‘It seems, Monsieur, that you will not languish like some people who are left for whole weeks in a waiting room. You’ll be sent directly to a cell.’

  ‘So much the better,’ said Canolles.

  Meanwhile, the officer was walking across to them. Canolles adopted the proud and dignified attitude of a persecuted man.

  When he was a few yards away from Canolles, the officer doffed his cap and asked: ‘Do I have the honour to address Baron de Canolles?’

  ‘Monsieur,’ the prisoner replied. ‘To tell the truth, I am embarrassed by your politeness. Yes, I am Baron de Canolles. Now I beg you to treat me with the courtesy due from one officer to another and to house me the least poorly that you can.’

  ‘The lodging is quite special, Monsieur,’ the officer replied. ‘But, as though in anticipation of your wishes, every possible improvement has been made to it.’

  ‘And whom should I thank for these unusual arrangements?’ Canolles asked with a smile.

  ‘The king, Monsieur, who does everything that he does well.’

  ‘Of course, of course. Heaven forbid that I should slander His Majesty, especially on this occasion. However, I should be gratified if I could have some information.’

  ‘If you so order, Monsieur, I am at your disposal, but may I take the liberty of pointing out that the garrison is waiting to receive you?’

  ‘Damnation!’ murmured Canolles. ‘A whole garrison to accept one prisoner when he is being locked up: this is a lot of fuss, I must say.’ Then, aloud, he continued: ‘I am the one taking your orders, Monsieur, ready to follow you wherever you would like to lead me.’

  ‘So, please let me go ahead and do you the honours.’

  Canolles followed him, silently congratulating himself on having fallen into the hands of such a polite man.

  ‘I think you’ll get away with the ordinary question,’ Barabbas whispered, coming over to him. ‘Four kettles only.’

  ‘So much the better,’ said Canolles. ‘I’ll only swell up half as much.’

  On arriving in the courtyard of the fortress, Canolles found part of the garrison presenting arms, and, at this, the officer who was leading him drew his sword and bowed.

  ‘My goodness, what a to-do!’ Canolles thought.

  At the same moment, the drum sounded under a nearby archway, and Canolles turned round to see a second line of soldiers emerging and drawing up behind the first.

  At this, the officer presented Canolles with two keys.

  ‘What’s this?’ the baron asked. ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘We are carrying out the usual ceremony under the strictest rules of protocol.’

  ‘But who do you think I am?’ Canolles asked in complete amazement.

  ‘Why, the person who you are, I imagine: the Baron de Canolles.’

  ‘And he is?’

  ‘Governor of the Ile Saint-Georges.’

  Canolles almost fell to the ground in astonishment.

  ‘I shall have the honour,’ the officer continued, ‘shortly to hand the governor the supplies that I received this morning, together with a letter announcing your arrival today.’

  Canolles looked at Barabbas, whose two round eyes were staring at him with an expression of stupefaction that is impossible to describe.

  ‘So,’ Canolles stammered, ‘I am Governor of the Ile Saint-Georges?’

  ‘Yes, Monsieur,’ the officer replied. ‘And we are most delighted with His Majesty’s choice.’

  ‘You’re sure there is no mistake?’

  ‘Please be so good as to follow me into your apartments,’ said the officer. ‘You will find your authority there.’

  Canolles, dazed by these events, so contrary to what he had been expecting, marched forward without a word, following the officer who led the way, amid the sound of the drums which had resumed their beat, between the ranks of soldiers presenting arms and all the inhabitants of the fortress who made the air ring with their cheers as he responded with waves to right and left, pale and shivering, and giving Barabbas a terrified look.

  Finally, they arrived in quite an elegant drawing room, from the windows of which he immediately noticed that you could see the Château de Cambes. Here he read his authority, drawn up in the proper manner, signed by the queen and countersigned by the Duke d’Epernon.

  At the sight of this, Canolles’s legs gave way entirely, and he slumped down, in a stupor, on to a chair.

  However, after all the fanfares, the musket firing and the noisy demonstration of military honours, and in particular after the first surprise that these exhibitions had produced in him, Canolles wanted to know what he should truly believe about the position that the queen had entrusted to him and looked up, having for some time before that kept his eyes fixed on the floor.

  This is when he saw in front of him, no less amazed than he was, his former jailer, now his most humble servant.

  ‘Ah, it’s you, Barabbas,’ he said.

  ‘It is indeed, Governor.’

  ‘Would you explain to me what has taken place, which I am finding it very difficult not to imagine is all a dream?’

  ‘I must explain to you, Monsieur, that when I spoke to you of the extraordinary question, that is of the ten kettles, I thought, by Barabbas, that I was sweetening the medicine for you.’

  ‘So you were convinced, then?’

  ‘Yes, that I was bringing you here to be broken on the wheel, Monsieur.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Canolles, shuddering in spite of himself. ‘Now, do you have any definite opinions about what is happening to me?’

  ‘Yes, Monsieur.’

  ‘Then please be good enough to inform me.’

  ‘Here you are: the queen must have realized how difficult the mission was with which she had entrusted you. Once she had got over the first rush of anger, she felt sorry, and since, all things considered, you are not a detestable person, Her Gracious Majesty must have rewarded you because she had punished you too severely before.’

  ‘Unacceptable,’ Canolles replied.

  ‘Unacceptable, you think?’

  ‘Improbable, at least.’

  ‘Improbable?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘In that case, Governor, there is nothing more for me except to present you with my most humble salutations. You can be as happy as a king on the Ile Saint-Georges: excellent wine, the game from the surrounding plains and the fish that the ships of Bordeaux and the women of Saint-Georges bring in with every tide. Oh, Monsieur, what a miracle it is!’

  ‘Very well, I shall try to follow your advice. Take this order that I have signed and go to the paymaster, who will give you ten pistoles. I should willingly give them to you myself, but since you prudently took my money…’

  ‘And I did the right thing, Monsieur!’ Barabbas exclaimed. ‘Because, after all, if you’d corrupted me, you would have escaped, and if you had escaped, you would quite naturally have lost the high office to which you have now come, and I should never have got over it.’

  ‘Very powerfully argued, Master Barabbas. I’ve noticed already that logic is your strongest point. Meanwhile, take this paper as a testimony to your eloquence. The ancients, as you may know, represented eloquence with go
lden chains emerging from her lips.’

  ‘Monsieur,’ said Barabbas, ‘suppose I dared suggest to you that I think it pointless to go and see the paymaster.’

  ‘What! Are you refusing?’ Canolles exclaimed, in amazement.

  ‘No, no, heaven forbid! Thank goodness, I do not suffer from such false pride. But I can see on your mantelpiece a small chest with certain cords emerging from it, which look to me like purse strings.’

  ‘You are well versed in strings, Monsieur Barabbas,’ said Canolles, surprised, because there was indeed on the mantelpiece a box of old-fashioned faience, encrusted with silver and Renaissance enamel work. ‘We shall see if your prediction is correct.’

  Canolles opened the lid of the box and did indeed find inside it a purse, and in the purse a thousand pistoles with this little note attached:

  ‘For the private treasury of the Governor of the Ile Saint-Georges.’

  ‘Corbleu!’ Canolles exclaimed, with a blush. ‘The queen knows how to do things.’

  And the memory of Buckingham21 came unbidden to his mind. Perhaps the queen had seen the victorious face of the handsome captain behind some tapestry; perhaps she was protecting him with peculiarly tender care; or perhaps… You will recall that Canolles was a Gascon.

  Unfortunately, the queen was twenty years older than she had been at the time of Buckingham.

  However that was, and regardless of where it came from, Canolles reached into the purse and extracted ten pistoles, which he gave to Barabbas, who then left the room, with the most reiterative and respectful bows.

  X

  Once Barabbas had left, Canolles called the officer and asked him to guide him in a review of his new domain. The officer at once put himself at Canolles’s disposal.

  At the door, he found a kind of command post, consisting of the other main figures in the fortress. Talking to them, chatting with them and getting them to explain all the features of the place, he visited the fortifications: the bastions, the glacis, the demilunes, the blockhouses, as well as the cellars and the attics. Finally, at eleven o’clock in the morning, he returned after visiting everywhere. His escort dispersed and he remained with the first officer whom he had originally met.

  ‘Now,’ the officer said, approaching him mysteriously. ‘All that remains for the governor to see is one apartment and one person.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Canolles.

  ‘That person’s apartment is here,’ said the officer, pointing towards a door which Canolles had not yet opened.

  ‘Ah, it’s there?’ said Canolles.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And the person, too?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Very well. But, excuse me, I am tired after travelling night and day, and my head this morning is not quite clear, so would you be so good as to explain yourself a little more clearly?’

  ‘Very well, Governor,’ the officer went on, with his most canny smile. ‘The apartment…’

  ‘… of the person…’ Canolles continued.

  ‘… who is waiting for you, is there. Now do you understand?’

  Canolles started, as though emerging from the land of conjecture into the real world.

  ‘Yes, yes, fine,’ he said. ‘Can I go in?’

  ‘Of course, you are expected.’

  ‘Off we go then,’ said Canolles.

  His heart beating fit to burst in his chest, bemused, feeling his fears and desires mingle to the point of madness, Canolles pushed open a second door and saw, behind a tapestry, the laughing and effervescent face of Nanon, who gave a loud cry as though to scare him and ran over, throwing both arms around his neck.

  Canolles stayed motionless, his arms hanging at his side, staring blankly.

  ‘You!’ he stammered.

  ‘Me!’ she said, laughing even more loudly and showering him with kisses.

  The memory of the wrongs he had done her flashed into Canolles’s mind, and, guessing at once the new favour that this loyal friend had done him, he was overwhelmed with feelings of remorse and gratitude.

  ‘So it is you who saved me,’ he said. ‘While I was destroying myself like an idiot! You are watching over me, you are my guardian angel.’

  ‘Don’t call me your angel,’ said Nanon, ‘because I’m a devil. However, I do only appear at the right moment, you must admit.’

  ‘You are right, my dear friend, because I truly believe that you have saved me from the scaffold.’

  ‘I think so, too. Really, Baron! You who are so far-sighted and sharp-witted, how did you manage to be taken in by those snooty little princesses?’

  Canolles blushed to the whites of his eyes, but Nanon had decided not to notice his embarrassment.

  ‘Honestly,’ he said, ‘I don’t know. I don’t understand it myself.’

  ‘Oh, it’s because they’re up to all the tricks! You men! You try to make war on women! What did they tell me? Instead of the young princess, they showed you a lady-in-waiting, a chambermaid, a scullery maid… or what was it?’

  Canolles felt a fever rising from his trembling fingers to his overheated brain.

  ‘I thought I was seeing the princess,’ he said. ‘I didn’t know her.’

  ‘And who was she?’

  ‘A lady-in-waiting, I believe.’

  ‘Oh, you poor boy! It’s that traitor Mazarin’s fault. After all, when you give someone such a difficult mission as that, you should supply a portrait. If you had merely seen the princess’s portrait, you would certainly have recognized her. But let’s not bother with that any longer. Do you know that frightful Mazarin, on the grounds that you betrayed the king, wanted to have you thrown to the toads?’

  ‘I guessed as much.’

  ‘And I said: “Let’s have him thrown to the Nanons.” Did I do the right thing, then?’

  Canolles, preoccupied as he was with the memory of the viscountess, and even though he carried the viscountess’s portrait next to his heart, could not withstand this supreme goodness, this spirit radiating from the loveliest eyes in the world. He lowered his head and put his lips to the lovely hand extended to him.

  ‘And you came here to wait for me?’

  ‘I was going to join you in Paris to accompany you here. I was bringing your authority. It seemed a long time that we had been apart, and only Monsieur d’Epernon returned with all his weight into my monotonous existence. I heard about your disappointment. By the way, I was forgetting to tell you: you are my brother, you know.’

  ‘That’s what I thought I understood from your letter.’

  ‘We must have been betrayed. The letter that I wrote you fell into the wrong hands. The duke arrived in a fury. I named you, confessed that you were my brother, poor Canolles, and now we are protected by the most legitimate of bonds. You are almost married, my poor friend.’

  Canolles allowed himself to be carried away by the woman’s incredible energy. After kissing her white hands, he kissed her dark eyes… The shade of Madame de Cambes had to take its leave, mournfully covering its head.

  ‘This means,’ said Nanon, ‘that everything has been covered and settled. I have made Monsieur d’Epernon your protector, or rather your friend, and I have turned aside the wrath of Mazarin. Finally, I have chosen Saint-Georges as our refuge, because, as you know, dear friend, I am still a target for hatred. Only you, in the whole world, love me a little, my dear Canolles. Come now, tell me that you do!’

  The ravishing siren, putting both arms around Canolles’s neck, stared deep into the young man’s eyes with a burning look that seemed to be reaching for his thoughts in the depth of his heart.

  And in this same heart where Nanon was trying to read, Canolles felt that he could not remain indifferent to such devotion. A secret premonition told him that there was something more than love in Nanon, that there was generosity – and that not only did she know how to love, but also to forgive.

  The young man nodded in reply to her question, because he did not dare tell her aloud that he loved her, even t
hough so many memories were pleading in her favour.

  ‘So, I chose the Ile Saint-Georges,’ she went on, ‘to put my money, my jewels and myself in safe keeping. And who else could better defend my life, I asked myself, than the man who loves me? Who other than my master can guard my treasures for me? Everything is in your hands, dear friend, my life and my wealth. Will you keep good watch over all of them? Will you be a loyal friend and a faithful warden?’

  At that moment, a trumpet sounded in the courtyard and found an echo in Canolles’s heart. He had before him love, more eloquent than it had ever been, and at the same time, a hundred yards from him, war, threatening, war that inflames and intoxicates.

  ‘Oh, yes, Nanon!’ he exclaimed. ‘Your person and your possessions are safe with me, and I swear to die to protect you from the slightest danger.’

  ‘Thank you, my noble knight,’ she said. ‘I am as certain of your courage as I am of your generous spirit. Alas,’ she added, with a smile, ‘I wish I could be as sure of your love.’

  ‘Oh, be sure…’ Canolles murmured.

  ‘Very well,’ said Nanon. ‘Love is not proved by promises, but by actions. We shall judge your love, Monsieur, by what you do.’

  At that, putting the loveliest arms in the world round Canolles’s neck, she rested her head on the young man’s beating chest.

  ‘Now,’ she thought to herself, ‘he must forget. And he will forget…’

  XI

  The same day as that on which Canolles was arrested in Jaulnay in front of Madame de Cambes, she herself left with Pompée to join the princess, who was within sight of Coutras.

  The worthy steward’s first consideration was to prove to his mistress that if Cauvignac’s band did not demand any ransom or commit any violence against the beautiful traveller, she owed this good fortune to his own resolute manner and military experience. It is true that Madame de Cambes, who was less easy to persuade than Pompée had originally hoped, pointed out to him that for almost an hour he had disappeared entirely, but Pompée explained that during this time he had been hiding in a corridor, where, with the help of a ladder, he had prepared a secure escape route for the viscountess. However, he had had to ward off two frenetic soldiers who tried to get the ladder away from him, and had done so, as one might imagine, with his usual invincible courage.