And as she said this, Nanon looked at Canolles, waiting for the reply that women always expect to exaggerations, that is something as crazy and elated as their own words. But Canolles sadly shook his head.
‘Nanon,’ he said, ‘you will never suffer any harm or have to put up with any affront as long as I am living on the Ile Saint-Georges. So be calm, because you have nothing to fear.’
‘Thank you,’ she replied. ‘Though that is not all I am expecting.’ And she added under her breath: ‘Alas, I am lost; he no longer loves me.’
Canolles surprised the blazing look in her eyes, flashing like lightning, and the dreadful, momentary pallor that reveals so much inner pain. ‘Let us be generous to the full,’ he thought. ‘Anything else would be base.’
‘Come, Nanon,’ he said. ‘Come, my dear. Put the coat around your shoulders and take your man’s hat: the night air will do you good. I may be attacked at any moment, so I am going to do my night watch.’
Nanon, trembling with joy, dressed as her lover had told her and followed him.
Canolles was a true captain. Little more than a child when he entered the service, he had made a proper study of his profession, which meant that he made his inspections not only as a commander, but as an engineer. The officers who had seen him arrive as a favourite, and who thought they were dealing with a mere ceremonial governor, were questioned one after another by their chief on every means of attack and defence. They were thus obliged to accept that this light-hearted young man was also an experienced captain, so even the oldest among them spoke of him with respect. The only thing that they might hold against him was the softness of his voice when he gave orders, and his extreme politeness when he questioned them. They were afraid that this courtesy was a sign of weakness. However, since each of them was aware of their imminent danger, the governor’s orders were carried out swiftly and punctually, in a manner that gave the leader an equal respect for his men as they had for him. A company of sappers had arrived during the day. Canolles ordered work that was started at once. Nanon tried in vain to bring him back to the fort to spare him the exhaustion of a night spent in this way, but Canolles went on with his inspection, and he it was who gently dismissed Nanon, demanding that she should return home. Then, having sent out three or four scouts whom the lieutenant had recommended as the most intelligent of those in his service, he went to lie down on a block of stone, from which he could keep an eye on the work.
But while his eyes were mechanically following the movement of the trenching tools and the pickaxes, Canolles’s thoughts, far from the material things that were going on in front of him, were entirely concerned not only with the events of that day, but with all the strange adventures in which he had been the hero since the time when he first saw Madame de Cambes. But, strangely enough, his mind did not go beyond that: it seemed to him that it was only from that moment that he had started to live, that until then he had existed in another world, one of inferior instincts and incomplete sensations. From that moment on, there had been a light in his life that gave a different appearance to everything – and in this new light Nanon (poor Nanon!) was pitilessly sacrificed to another love, violent from the moment of its birth, like those passions that take over entirely the life into which they have entered.
So, after painful reflection, mingled with heavenly rapture at the idea that he was loved by Madame de Cambes, Canolles admitted that duty alone demanded that he should be a man of honour and that the love he felt for Nanon played no part in his resolve.
Poor Nanon! Canolles described his feeling for her as one of friendship. And friendship in love is very close to indifference.
Nanon was also awake. She could not bring herself to go to bed. Standing at a window, wrapped in a black mantle so that she would not be seen, she was not watching the sad, veiled moon drifting through the clouds, or the tall poplars swaying gracefully in the night wind, or the majestic river Garonne, which seems much more like a rebellious vassal rising up to make war on its master than a faithful serf bringing its tribute to the ocean… It was not any of these that she was following, but the slow, painful case building up against her in the mind of her lover: in his dark outline on the stone, in his motionless shadow crouching in front of a lantern, she saw the living spectre of her past happiness. She who had once been so energetic, so proud and so adept, had now lost all skill, all pride, all energy. It was as though her senses, fired by the awareness of her misfortune, were doubly perceptive and subtle. She felt the love germinating in the depths of her lover’s heart – as God, leaning across the great dome of the sky, can feel a shoot of grass germinating in the bowels of the earth.
Daybreak came, and only then did Canolles return to his room. Nanon had already gone back to hers, so he was unaware that she had stayed awake all night. He dressed carefully, assembled the garrison once more, inspected the various batteries in daylight, particularly those overlooking the left bank of the Garonne, had the little gate closed with chains, set up kinds of barges laden with muskets and blunderbusses, reviewed his men, encouraged them again with his vivid and generous words, and was consequently only able to return to his quarters around ten o’clock.
Nanon was waiting with a smile on her lips. This was no longer the proud and imperious Nanon whose whims made even Monsieur d’Epernon shudder; this was a shy mistress, a fearful slave who did not even demand to be loved, but merely asked to be allowed to love him.
The day passed uneventfully, except for the ins and outs of the inner drama that was being played out in the souls of each of these young people. The scouts that Canolles had sent out returned one after another. None of them brought any positive news, apart from reporting a great deal of activity in Bordeaux: it was clear that something was being prepared there.
As it happened, Madame de Cambes, when she returned to the town, while concealing all the details of the interview in the most secret recesses of her heart, reported the outcome to Lenet. The people of Bordeaux clamoured for the Ile Saint-Georges to be captured. They came along en masse to take part in the expedition. The leaders agreed for it to go ahead, while pointing to the absence of any soldiers to lead it and trained men to support it. Lenet took advantage of this to slip in the name of the two dukes and to offer their army. This proposal was received enthusiastically, and even people who on the previous day had voted for the gates to be shut against them called for them loudly.
Lenet hurried to bring this good news to the princess, who immediately summoned her council. Claire excused herself on the ground of tiredness from taking any decision against Canolles and went to her room where she could weep at her leisure. From the room, she could hear the cries and threats of the people; all these cries and threats were directed against Canolles.
Soon the drum sounded, the companies assembled, the magistrates had the people armed; the people demanded pikes and muskets. The cannon was taken out of the arsenal, gunpowder distributed and two hundred boats were made ready to sail up the Garonne with the help of the night tide, while three thousand men, marching along the left bank, would attack on land.
The fleet was to be commanded by d’Espagnet, counsellor to the parliament of Bordeaux, a brave and wise man; the land army was to be commanded by Monsieur de La Rochefoucauld, who had just entered the town with some two thousand followers. The Duke de Bouillon was not due to come until the following day, with a further thousand. So Monsieur de La Rochefoucauld pressed ahead vigorously with the attack in order to complete it before his colleague arrived.
V
While Canolles was doing his tour of inspection around the ramparts, on the day after the one when Madame de Cambes had appeared in the guise of a negotiator on the Ile Saint-Georges, he was informed that a messenger with a letter was asking to speak to him.
The messenger was immediately shown in and gave his dispatch to Canolles. It was clearly not an official communication: a small letter, longer than it was broad, written in a fine and slightly quavering hand on polished and scente
d paper, tinted blue.
Merely at the sight of the paper, Canolles felt his heart involuntarily beating faster.
‘Who gave you this letter?’ he asked.
‘A man of fifty-five to sixty years old.’
‘With a moustache and a small beard, à la royale, going grey?’
‘Yes.’
‘Stooping?’
‘Yes.’
‘Yet of military bearing?’
‘That’s right.’
Canolles gave the man a louis and gestured to him to leave at once. Then he walked away, his heart thumping, and hid behind a turret so that he could read the letter that he had just received at his leisure.
It contained the following three lines: ‘You are going to be attacked. If you are no longer worthy of me, at least show that you are worthy of yourself.’
The letter was not signed, but Canolles recognized Madame de Cambes’s handwriting, as he had recognized Pompée. He looked to make sure that no one was watching, then blushing like a boy in his first love affair, he put the paper to his lips, kissed it ardently and put it next to his heart.
Then he went up on to the roof of the bastion, from where he could see the course of the Garonne for nearly a league as well as the full extent of the surrounding plain. There was nothing to be seen either on the river or in the countryside.
‘This is how I shall spend the morning,’ he murmured. ‘They won’t be coming in full daylight. They must have rested on their way and will start the attack this evening.’
Canolles heard a slight noise behind him and turned round. It was his lieutenant.
‘Well, Monsieur de Vibrac,’ Canolles said. ‘What are they saying?’
‘They are saying that the flag of the princes will be flying over the Ile Saint-Georges tomorrow.’
‘Who is saying that?’
‘Two of our scouts who have just come back and who saw the preparations that the townsfolk are making against us.’
‘So what was your answer to those who said that the flag of the princes will be flying over the Ile Saint-Georges tomorrow?’
‘I replied that that was all the same to me, since I should not be seeing it.’
‘In that case, you have stolen my reply, Monsieur,’ said Canolles.
‘Bravo, Commander! That’s all we ask. The soldiers will fight like lions when they learn of your reply.’
‘Let them fight like men, that’s all I ask. And what are they saying about the type of attack?’
‘Why, General, that they have a surprise in store for us,’ said Vibrac with a laugh.
‘Damn! What a surprise that is!’ said Canolles. ‘You’re the second person to tell me so. Who is leading the assault?’
‘Monsieur de La Rochefoucauld for the army, d’Espagnet, the parliamentary counsellor, for the water landing.’
‘Very well,’ said Canolles. ‘Then I’ll give him some advice.’
‘Whom?’
‘The adviser to the parliament of Bordeaux.’
‘What would that be?’
‘To reinforce his urban militia with some good, well-disciplined soldiers who can teach those bourgeois how to withstand heavy fire.’
‘He did not wait for your advice, Commander, because before becoming a man of law he was, I believe, something of a man of war, and for this expedition he joined forces with the regiment of Navailles.’
‘What! The regiment of Navailles?’
‘Yes.’
‘My old regiment?’
‘The same. It appears that it has gone over lock, stock and barrel to the princes.’
‘And who is commanding it?’
‘Baron de Ravailly.’
‘Really?’
‘Do you know him?’
‘Yes… a charming lad, as brave as his sword. So, in that case it will be hotter than I thought. We’ll have a jolly time of it!’
‘What are your orders?’
‘That the sentries should be doubled tonight and the soldiers go to bed fully clothed, with their weapons loaded and within reach. Half will keep watch, while the other half rest. The half that is on watch should remain below the level of the fortifications… Wait one moment.’
‘I am waiting.’
‘Have you told anyone of the messenger’s report?’
‘No one at all.’
‘Good. Keep it secret for a while longer. Choose ten or so of your worst soldiers… you must have some poachers and fishermen here?’
‘Only too many of them.’
‘Well, then. As I say, choose around ten and give them leave until tomorrow morning. They will go and cast their lines in the Garonne or set their snares on the plain. Tonight, d’Espagnet and de La Rochefoucauld will capture them and interrogate them.’
‘I don’t understand…’
‘Don’t you see that our attackers must think that we are entirely ignorant of their plans? Well, these men, as they do not know anything, will swear convincingly – and be believed, since they will not be pretending – that we are fast asleep.’
‘Ah, very good!’
‘Let the enemy approach, let him land, let him raise up his ladders.’
‘So when shall we fire?’
‘When I give the order. If a single shot comes from our ranks before my order is given, by my faith, I shall have the person who fired it shot.’
‘Heavens!’
‘Civil war is war twice over. It’s important that a civil war should not be conducted like a hunting party. Let the people of Bordeaux laugh, and laugh yourselves if it pleases you. But only do so when I tell you to laugh.’
The lieutenant left and conveyed Canolles’s orders to the other officers, who exchanged astonished looks. There were two men in the governor: the courteous gentleman and the implacable commander.
Canolles went back to dine with Nanon, though their supper was brought forward by two hours. Canolles had decided that he would not leave the ramparts from dusk to dawn. He found Nanon looking through a voluminous correspondence.
‘You can put up a stiff defence, dear Canolles,’ she said, ‘because it will not be long before you are relieved. The king is coming, Monsieur de La Meilleraie is leading an army here, and Monsieur d’Epernon is on the way with fifteen thousand men.’
‘But in the meantime they have a week, or perhaps ten days, Nanon,’ said Canolles, smiling. ‘The Ile Saint-Georges is not impregnable.’
‘Oh, as long as you are in command here, I’m quite confident.’
‘Yes, but precisely because I am in command here, I may be killed… Nanon, what would you do if that happened? Have you thought about it, at least?’
‘Yes,’ said Nanon, smiling in her turn.
‘Well, then, keep your trunk packed and ready. A boatman will be at the appointed place, and if you should have to jump in the water, there will be four of my people who are strong swimmers, with orders not to leave you; they will take you to the other bank.’
‘All these precautions are pointless, Canolles. If you are killed, I shall no longer need anything.’
A servant announced that dinner was ready. Ten times, as they were eating, Canolles got up and went to the window overlooking the river. He left the table before the end of the meal. Night was falling.
Nanon tried to follow him.
‘Nanon,’ he said. ‘Go back to your apartment and swear to me that you will not leave it. If I knew that you were outside, in the open, in some kind of danger, I don’t know what I should do. It is a question of my honour, Nanon. Don’t trifle with my honour.’
Nanon offered Canolles her crimson lips, made even redder by the pallor of her cheeks. Then she went back to her room, saying: ‘I obey you, Canolles! I want both friends and enemies to know the man I love. Go!’
Canolles left. He could not help admiring this creature who was obedient to all his desires and wishes. Hardly had he reached his post than night came, frightful and threatening, as it always seems to be when its dark recesses hold a murderous secre
t.
Canolles had taken up his place at the end of the Esplanade, from where he could see the river and both of its banks. There was no moon. A veil of dark clouds slid heavily across the sky. It was impossible to be seen, but also impossible to see.
However, at midnight he thought he made out some dark shapes moving on the far bank, and huge forms gliding along the river. But there was no noise other than the night wind moaning in the leaves on the trees.
The shapes halted, and the forms stayed put, some distance away. Canolles thought he had been mistaken, yet he doubled in vigilance. His bright eyes pierced the gloom, and his ears were pricked to catch the slightest sound.
Three o’clock sounded on the fortress clock, and the echoes of the ringing faded slowly and lugubriously into the night. Canolles began to suspect that he had been misinformed and was about to go to bed, when Lieutenant de Vibrac, who was beside him, quickly put a hand on his shoulder and, with the other, pointed towards the river.
‘Yes, yes,’ said Canolles. ‘It’s them. Come, we shall have lost nothing by waiting. Go and wake up the men who are sleeping and tell them to take up their posts behind the wall. You told them, I hope, that I would kill the first man who fired?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, tell them again!’
As the first light of day appeared, you could see the long boats approaching, laden with men laughing and talking quietly, while on the plain you could see a kind of hillock that had not been there the day before. It was a battery of six cannons that Monsieur de La Rochefoucauld had set up overnight. The men in the boats had only delayed for so long, because the battery had not until then been ready to open fire.
Canolles asked if the weapons were loaded and, when told that they were, gave a signal for them to wait.
The boats were getting closer and closer, and in the first light of day, Canolles could soon make out the distinctive leather trappings and hat of the company of Navailles – which, as we know, had once been his. At the bow of one of the first boats was Baron de Ravailly, who had replaced him as commander of the company, and at the stern, the lieutenant who was his foster brother and much loved by his comrades for his merry disposition and unending stock of jokes.