CHAPTER XXVII.
REVELATION.
Had Madame Labroquerie continued firm in her resolve never to approachthe fortress while her nephew ruled, all might have been well; butunfortunately for her daughter, and, as it was to prove, for herself,the bitter little woman permitted her longing to enter again into theaffairs of the world to prevail over her hatred for the commandant, andso suffered herself to be brought to the citadel, railing savagelythroughout the journey. Before a week had passed she revealed herselffully as an unnatural mother and an implacable foe. Yet, to do justiceto even a worker of evil, it must be admitted that Madeleine, with allher sweetness, was a sore trial to a fanatical Catholic and bigotedpatriot, for she refused to be ashamed of her heresy, and was neverweary of singing the praise of her English lover.
Left to themselves, neither Laroche, now the head of the Church in thatdistrict, nor Roussilac would have taken action against the lovelysinner; but Madame, in one of her fits of ungovernable anger, publiclypreferred two charges against her daughter, accusing her of heresy andtreason, and calling upon the Church to punish her for the one offenceand the State to exact a penalty for the other.
These were grave indictments, but both priest and layman closed theirears, the former not wishing to be troubled by unpleasant duties, thelatter hanging back, not on account of the tie of relationship, butbecause of Madeleine's beauty. But when Madame, in another fit offury, openly denounced the commandant before D'Archand, who for thesecond time had arrived at that coast, as a Lutheran at heart, and aprotector of the enemies of the Church, he was driven to act for thesake of his ambition. So Madeleine was arrested and confined in asmall stone hut high upon the cliff, and before her door a sentry pacedboth by day and night, while Laroche, with many deep grumblings, wascompelled to undertake the uncongenial task of saving the fair girl'ssoul.
To the credit of the priest, be it said that he was charitable. Hebelieved Madeleine had been perverted from the right way by some spellof witchcraft, and this belief was strengthened by the fact that, whenhe adjured the girl by the tears of the Saviour to weep, she merelylaughed at him. It was notorious that a guilty witch was unable toshed tears. Accordingly Laroche attended himself to the obvious dutyof exorcising the evil spirit which had taken up its abode in her; but,in spite of all his efforts, the girl remained as wickedly obstinate asbefore.
"The Church acts towards her children with wondrous love, and becauseof that love may chasten," the abbe preached. "'Tis the duty of thefaithful within the fold to bring in the wandering sheep, either bysuasion or by force. Being bewitched, my daughter, you stand in greatperil, and we, by the powers entrusted unto us, may remove that danger,when reasoning fails, by bodily torment. Be converted, and your soulshall live. Remain in your unbelief, and punishment shall follow,because a living heretic is a danger to the world and a dishonour tothe holy saints."
Even such sound doctrine as this failed to move the heart of Madeleine,and each day Laroche grumbled louder at his failure, and Roussilacshrank yet more from bringing his cousin to trial, and Madame becamemore stinging in speech and more furious in her awful passions, becauseof the suffering of her mind during lucid moments, when she could seeherself in sunny Normandy once more young and sane. Her hatred forRoussilac increased, until she would spit and snarl at him when hepassed, and scream: "Infidel! This shall be known in France. Powershall fall from you, and the people shall curse your name." And whenthe men who had been sent after Geoffrey returned afoot with their taleof failure, Madame Labroquerie made it known from the ship to thecitadel that it was the commandant who had secured the spy's safety forthe love of his heretic cousin.
Coward as he was in many ways, Roussilac at length saw that he must actor be dishonoured; he must either release Madeleine or bring her totrial for treason. The former alternative was impossible, because thegirl was an ecclesiastical prisoner. The lightest sentence he couldpass for treason was banishment, and he could not endure the prospectof losing Madeleine. Besides, when he had sentenced her, she stillremained to be judged by the clerical court. It needed a wiser brainthan Roussilac's to solve so tangled a problem. Nevertheless, heresolved to attempt it. After some speech with Laroche, who washeartily weary of the whole business, the commandant passed from thechurch of Ste. Mary, after the hour of vespers, and ascended thewinding path which led towards the hut where the impenitent wasimprisoned. The sentry saluted as the governor approached, thenresumed his march along the brown scar which the constant tread hadmade.
"Withdraw yonder," Roussilac ordered.
A happy voice broke out, as he put up his hand to the door:
"There is the sun upon the side of the wall. So it is already evening.Time flies as fast in prison as elsewhere. I pray you, sun, shine uponGeoffrey rather than on me!"
Cribbed and confined as the girl was, she steadily refused to be castdown, because she was assured that life had far better things in store.Her lover was pursued, but then she knew he would escape. Her bodymight be held in prison, but her spirit was free, flying over forestand hill, and singing like a lark against the clouds.
Her note changed when Roussilac flung open the door and stood beforeher in a flood of light.
"Cousin," Madeleine said coldly. "You break upon me suddenly. I hadbetter company before you came. Why do you drive my friends away?"
The commandant closed the door and stepped forward, his sallow faceworking.
"You are alone," he said. "None dare visit you without permission."
"I am never alone," she declared. "My friends left me when youentered; but they shall return when you depart."
"Am not I a friend? Nay, more--I am a relation," began Roussilac; butshe checked him with the reproof: "I have no family now that Jean-Marieis dead."
"Your mother," he reminded her.
"She has delivered me into the power of the Church."
"Because it is best for you. I would care for your body, Madeleine, asyour mother cares for your soul. Cousin, think not unkindly of me. Iwould release you; but what power have I to remove the judgment of theAbbe Laroche? He has sentenced you to close confinement, until----"
"My lover returns to release me," she finished, and backed from himwith a laugh.
Roussilac clenched his fingers tightly, and jealousy venomed the wordswhich then left his lips:
"Foolish girl, would you rouse all the evil in me? Bear with me,cousin," he went on quickly. "It is not in me to endure patiently.Since that day when I stood before you in the grove I have not knownthe meaning of peace. My nights have been long, my days dark, myposition unprofitable----"
Again she interrupted him, to simplify what she knew must follow:
"Because you think that you love me."
He stepped forward to seize her hands; but she drew back and steadiedherself against the wall.
"I do love you, sweet cousin."
"You do not love me. Need I give you the lie when your own tonguegives it you? Is it love when the nights become long, and the daydark, and position brings no pleasure? Arnaud, I love, and am held inprison; but my nights are short, my days warm, and my position is ahappiness. Believe you that love, however unrequited, takes away fromlife? I tell you it adds, it enriches, it beautifies. It is a crownwhich makes a humble man a king, and the halo which makes thesinging-girl a saint. Love gives a man strength to use his power, todefy superstition and false religion, to snap his fingers in the faceof a fat priest who believes that a strong will may be bent and brokenby holding the body in bondage. Had I my heart to offer I would scornyour cowardly love."
He had faced her while she spoke, but when she stopped he turned, and,feeling the sting of her eyes, savagely pulled at the cloak which haddrifted from his shoulders.
"My mother has sent you," said Madeleine.
"She and I are bitter enemies," came the sullen answer. "I have butborne with her for your sake. She seeks to stir up mischief all theday long." He turned abruptly. "Have you no kind word
for me, littlecousin?"
He looked worn and old, and the girl pitied him; but she was too honestto deceive by fair speech.
"You brought me to this place against my will," she reminded him. "Iwas happy in our cabin beyond the river. You have played into thehands of my mother, who desires to see me punished because I haveabjured her faith. Would you have brought me here had you found theplain country maid you had looked to see?"
"I swore to your brother to protect you."
"Do not recall that death scene, I pray you," she said firmly. "If thespirit of Jean-Marie looks down upon us now, he finds you--protectingme!"
Roussilac winced as that shot struck him. "Blame me not," he said moresubmissively. "Were you a civil prisoner only, I would open this door,and you should go as free as air. My purpose in coming to you is tourge you to free yourself."
"Never at the price demanded. Arnaud, I put your courage to the test.I trow that the man who loves a woman will for her sake perform whatshe may demand, even though he lose position for it. Open the door,and lead me to Father Laroche, and say to him: 'Father, I have taken itupon myself to release your prisoner, since it shames me to see fleshand blood of mine confined against her will in the fortress over whichI rule.' Do so, Arnaud, and I shall believe in you."
"It is madness to ask it," said Roussilac loudly.
"Let us have the truth. You dare not."
"It is so," he confessed. "I dare not set myself against the Church,which has the power to consign a man's soul to hell."
Madeleine smiled contemptuously.
"If you would search your heart and read truly what there you find, Ishould hear a different answer. You do not fear Father Laroche. Hedoes not wish to hold me here. Rather would he cast me from his mind,that he might have more time to spend at the tavern and his brawls. Iwill tell you what you fear: your actions are watched, your wordscriticised. If you let me free, it would be rumoured that you werefalse to the faith. That rumour would be wafted across seas, and yourenemies at home would see to it that you were recalled and relegated tothe obscurity from which you have arisen. You would rather treat yourcousin as a courtesan than abate one fragment of the pitiful powerwhich shall some day fall from your body like a rag. Now, mycommandant, are you answered?"
Roussilac said not a word when he saw the scorn in those violet eyes.He merely put out his hand, and opened the door, muttering, as thoughto himself: "That pride shall break when she knows."
"Know?" cried Madeleine. "What should I know?"
He looked at her savagely, feeling that it was in him to make hersuffer.
"That your lover is hanged at my command."
He closed the door quickly and fastened it, half hoping, half dreading,to hear the scream of anguish which he believed must follow. But therecame to him as he waited a peal of joyous laughter, and the happy words:
"Geoffrey, Geoffrey! would that you could hear that! Dead! Why, mylove, you are full of life. Were you to die, which God indeed forbids,your dear spirit would fly at once to me. Dead! Have I not seen youin my dreams? Do not I see you now walking within sight of the NewEngland fields? Oh, Geoffrey! Near--how near! Who is that great manriding beside you, a panther skin across his shoulder? How noisily hetalks ... and now leans over, and pats you on the arm. Ah, gone--gone!And he would have me think that you are hanged!"