CHAPTER XLIX. ROLAND'S REVENGE
It is easy to guess what had happened. Roland had not wasted his timewith the captain of gendarmerie and the colonel of dragoons. They ontheir side did not forget that they had their own revenge to take.
Roland had informed them of the subterranean passage that led from thechurch of Brou to the grotto of Ceyzeriat. At nine in the evening thecaptain and the eighteen men under his command were to go to the church,descend into the burial vault of the Dukes of Savoy, and prevent withtheir bayonets all communication between the subterranean passage andthe quarry.
Roland, at the head of twenty men, was to inclose the woods in asemicircle, drawing in upon it until the two ends should meet at thegrotto of Ceyzeriat. The first movement of the party was to be made atnine o'clock, in conjunction with the captain of the gendarmerie.
We have seen, from what Morgan told Amelie, the nature of the presentintentions of the Companions of Jehu. The news brought from Mittau andfrom Brittany had put them at ease. Each man felt that he was free, and,knowing that the struggle had been a hopeless one, he rejoiced in hisliberty.
There was therefore a full meeting at the grotto of Ceyzeriat, almosta fete. At twelve o'clock the Companions of Jehu were to separate, andeach one, according to his facilities, was to cross the frontier andleave France.
We know how their leader employed his last moments. The others, who hadnot the same ties of the heart, were supping together in the broad openspace of the quarry, brilliantly illuminated--a feast of separation andfarewell; for, once out of France, the Vendee and Brittany pacificated,Conde's army destroyed, who knew when and where they should meet againin foreign lands.
Suddenly the report of a shot fell upon their ears.
Every man sprang to his feet as if moved by an electric shock. A secondshot, and then through the depths of the quarry rang the cry, quiveringon the wings of the bird of ill-omen, "To arms!"
To the Companions of Jehu, subjected to all the vicissitudes of life ofan outlaw, the occasional rest they snatched was never that of peace.Pistols, daggers, carbines, were ever near at hand. At the cry, givenno doubt by the sentinel, each man sprang to his weapons and stood withpanting breast and strained ears, waiting.
In the midst of the silence a step as rapid as well could be in thedarkness was heard. Then, within the circle of light thrown by thetorches and candles, a man appeared.
"To arms!" he cried again, "we are attacked!"
The two shots the Companions of Jehu had heard were from thedouble-barrelled gun of the sentry. It was he who now appeared, hissmoking gun in his hand.
"Where is Morgan?" cried twenty voices.
"Absent," replied Montbar; "consequently I command. Put out the lightsand retreat to the church. A fight is useless now. It would only bewaste of blood."
He was obeyed with an alacrity that showed that every one appreciatedthe danger. The little company drew together in the darkness.
Montbar, who knew the windings of the subterranean passage almost aswell as Morgan, directed the troop, and, followed by his companions, heplunged into the heart of the quarry. Suddenly, as he neared the gate ofthe passage, he fancied he heard an order given in a low tone not fiftyfeet away, then a sound like the cocking of guns. He stretched out botharms and muttered in a low voice:
"Halt!" At the same instant came the command, this time perfectlyaudible: "Fire!"
It was hardly given before the cavern was lighted with a glare, followedby a frightful volley. Ten carbines had been discharged at once into thenarrow passage. By their light Montbar and his companions recognized theuniform of the gendarmes.
"Fire!" cried Montbar in turn.
Seven or eight shots answered the command. Again the darkness wasilluminated. Two of the Companions of Jehu lay upon the ground, onekilled outright, the other mortally wounded.
"Our retreat is cut off, my friends," cried Montbar. "To theright-about! If we have a chance, it is through the forest."
The movement was executed with the precision of a military manoeuvre.Montbar, again at the head of his companions, retraced his steps. Atthat moment the gendarmes fired again. But no one replied. Those who haddischarged their guns reloaded them. Those who had not, reserved theirfire for the real struggle which was to come. One or two sighs alonetold that the last volley of the gendarmes had not been without result.
At the end of five minutes Montbar stopped. The little party had reachedthe open space of the quarry.
"Are your pistols and guns all loaded?" he asked.
"Yes," answered a dozen voices.
"Remember the order for those who fall into the hands of the police. Webelong to the army of M. de Teyssonnet, and we are here to recruitmen for the royalist cause. If they talk to us of mail-coaches anddiligences, we don't know what they mean."
"Agreed."
"In either case it will be death. We know that well enough; but thedeath of a soldier is better than that of thieves--the volley of aplatoon rather than the guillotine."
"Yes, yes," cried a mocking voice, "we know what that is--Vive lafusillade!"
"Forward, friends!" said Montbar, "and let us sell our lives for whatthey are worth; that is to say, as dearly as possible."
"Forward!" they all cried.
Then, as rapidly as was possible in the profound darkness, the littletroop resumed its march, still under the guidance of Montbar. As theyadvanced, the leader noticed a smell of smoke which alarmed him. At thesame time gleams of light began to flicker on the granite walls at theangles of the path, showing that something strange was happening at theopening of the grotto.
"I believe those scoundrels are smoking us out," exclaimed Montbar.
"I fear so," replied Adler.
"They think we are foxes."
"Oh!" replied the same voice, "they shall know by our claws that we arelions."
The smoke became thicker and thicker, the light more and more vivid.
They turned the last corner. A pile of dried wood had been lighted inthe quarry about fifty feet from the entrance, not for the smoke, butfor the light it gave. By the blaze of that savage flame the weapons ofthe dragoons could be seen gleaming at the entrance of the grotto.
Ten steps in advance of the men stood an officer, waiting. He wasleaning on his carbine, not only exposed to attack, but apparentlycourting it. It was Roland. He was easily recognized. He had flung hiscap away, his head was bare, and the fitful light of the flames playedupon his features. But that which should have cost him his life savedhim. Montbar recognized him and stepped backward.
"Roland de Montrevel!" he said. "Remember Morgan's injunction."
"Yes," replied the other Companions, in muffled tones.
"And now," said Montbar, "let us die, but dearly!"
And he sprang forward into the space illuminated by the fire, anddischarged one barrel of his gun at the dragoons, who replied with avolley.
It would be impossible to relate all that followed. The grotto wasfilled with smoke, which the flame of each weapon pierced like a flashof lightning. The two bands clinched and fought hand to hand, pistolsand daggers serving them in turn. At the noise of the struggle, thegendarmes poured in from the rear--few more demons added to this fightof devils--but the groups of friends and enemies were so confused theydared not fire. They struggled in the red and lurid atmosphere, felldown and rose again; a roar of rage was heard, then a cry of agony--thedeath sigh of a man. The survivor sought another man, and the strugglewas renewed.
This work of death lasted fifteen minutes, perhaps twenty. At the endof those twenty minutes twenty corpses could be counted in the grotto ofCeyzeriat. Thirteen were those of the gendarmes and the dragoons,nine belonged to the Companions of Jehu. Five of the latter were stillliving; overwhelmed by numbers, crippled by wounds, they were takenalive. The gendarmes and the dragoons, twenty-five in number, surroundedthem.
The captain of gendarmes had his arm shattered, the colonel of dragoonswas wounded in the thigh. Roland alone, covered with blo
od that wasnot his own, had not a scratch. Two of the prisoners were so grievouslywounded that it was impossible for them to walk, and the soldiers wereobliged to carry them on an improvised litter. Torches were lighted, andthe whole troop, with the prisoners, took the road to the town.
As they were leaving the forest to branch into the high-road, the gallopof a horse was heard. It came on rapidly. "Go on," said Roland; "I willstay here and find out what this means."
It was a rider, who, as we have said, was advancing at full speed.
"Who goes there?" cried Roland, raising his carbine when the rider wasabout twenty paces from him.
"One more prisoner, Monsieur de Montrevel," replied the rider, "I couldnot be in at the fight, but I will at least go to the scaffold. Whereare my friends?"
"There, sir," replied Roland, who had recognized, not the face, but thevoice of the rider, a voice which he now heard for the third time. As hespoke, he pointed to the little group in the centre of the soldiers whowere making their way along the road from Ceyzeriat to Bourg.
"I am glad to see that no harm has befallen you, M. de Montrevel,"said the young man, with great courtesy; "I assure you it gives memuch happiness." And spurring his horse, he was beside the soldiers andgendarmes in a few strides. "Pardon me, gentlemen," he said, springingfrom his horse, "I claim a place among my three friends, the Vicomte deJayat, the Comte de Valensolle, and the Marquis de Ribier."
The three prisoners gave a cry of admiration and held out their hands totheir friend. The two wounded men lifted themselves up on their litters,and murmured: "Well done, Sainte-Hermine, well done!"
"I do believe, God help me!" cried Roland, "that those brigands willhave the nobler side of the affair!"