The Suitors of Yvonne: being a portion of the memoirs of the Sieur Gaston de Luynes
CHAPTER XII. THE RESCUE
Some precious moments did I waste standing with that green rag betwixtmy fingers, and I grew sick and numb in body and in mind. She was gone!Carried off by a man I had reason to believe she hated, and whom Godsend she might have no motive to hate more deeply hereafter!
The ugly thought swelled until it blotted out all others, and in itstrain there came a fury upon me that drove me to do by instinct thatwhich earlier I should have done by reason. I climbed back into thesaddle, and away across the meadow I went, journeying at an angle withthe road, my horse's head turned in the direction of Blois. That road atlast was gained, and on I thundered at a stretched gallop, praying thatmy hard-used beast might last until the town was reached.
Now, as I have already said, I am not a man who easily falls a preyto excitement. It may have beset me in the heat of battle, when thefearsome lust of blood and death makes of every man a raving maniac,thrilled with mad joy at every stab he deals, and laughing with fiercepassion at every blow he takes, though in the taking of it his coursebe run. But, saving at such wild times, never until then could I recallhaving been so little master of myself. There was a fever in me; allhell was in my blood, and, stranger still, and hitherto unknown at anyseason, there was a sickly fear that mastered me, and drew out greatbeads of sweat upon my brow. Fear for myself I have never known, for atno time has life so pampered me that the thought of parting companywith it concerned me greatly. Fear for another I had not known tillthen--saving perchance the uneasiness that at times I had felt touchingAndrea--because never yet had I sufficiently cared.
Thus far my thoughts took me, as I rode, and where I have halted didthey halt, and stupidly I went over their ground again, like one whogropes for something in the dark,--because never yet had I sufficientlycared--I had never cared.
And then, ah Dieu! As I turned the thought over I understood, and,understanding, I pursued the sentence where I had left off.
But, caring at last, I was sick with fear of what might befall the one Icared for! There lay the reason of the frenzied excitement whereof I hadbecome the slave. That it was that had brought the moisture to my browand curses to my lips; that it was that had caused me instinctively tothrust the rag of green velvet within my doublet.
Ciel! It was strange--aye, monstrous strange, and a right good jest forfate to laugh at--that I, Gaston de Luynes, vile ruffler and worthlessspadassin, should have come to such a pass; I, whose forefinger had forthe past ten years uptilted the chin of every tavern wench I had chancedupon; I, whose lips had never known the touch of other than the lips ofthese; I, who had thought my heart long dead to tenderness and devotion,or to any fondness save the animal one for my ignoble self. Yet there Irode as if the Devil had me for a quarry,--panting, sweating, cursing,and well-nigh sobbing with rage at a fear that I might come toolate,--all because of a proud lady who knew me for what I was and heldme in contempt because of her knowledge; all for a lady who had notthe kindness for me that one might spare a dog--who looked on me assomething not good to see.
Since there was no one to whom I might tell my story that he might mockme, I mocked myself--with a laugh that startled passers-by and which,coupled with the crazy pace at which I dashed into Blois, caused them, Idoubt not, to think me mad. Nor were they wrong, for mad indeed I deemedmyself.
That I trampled no one underfoot in my furious progress through thestreets is a miracle that passes my understanding.
In the courtyard of the Lys de France I drew rein at last with a tugthat brought my shuddering brute on to his haunches and sent those whostood about flying into the shelter of the doorways.
"Another horse!" I shouted as I sprang to the ground. "Another horse atonce!"
Then as I turned to inquire for Michelot, I espied him leaning stolidlyagainst the porte-cochere.
"How long have you been there, Michelot?" I asked.
"Half an hour, mayhap."
"Saw you a closed carriage pass?"
"Ten minutes ago I saw one go by, followed by M. de St. Auban and agentleman who greatly resembled M. de Vilmorin, besides an escort offour of the most villainous knaves--"
"That is the one," I broke in. "Quick, Michelot! Arm yourself and getyour horse; I have need of you. Come, knave, move yourself!"
At the end of a few minutes we set out at a sharp trot, leaving thecurious ones whom my loud-voiced commands had assembled, to speculateupon the meaning of so much bustle. Once clear of the township we gavethe reins to our horses, and our trot became a gallop as we travelledalong the road to Meung, with the Loire on our right. And as we went Ibriefly told Michelot what was afoot, interlarding my explanations withprayers that we might come upon the kidnappers before they crossed theriver, and curses at the flying pace of our mounts, which to my anxiousmind seemed slow.
At about a mile from Blois the road runs over an undulation of theground that is almost a hill. From the moment that I had left Canaplesas the Angelus was ringing, until the moment when our panting horsesgained the brow of that little eminence, only half an hour had sped.Still in that half-hour the tints had all but faded from the sky, andthe twilight shadows grew thicker around us with every moment. Yet notso thick had they become but that I could see a coach at a standstillin the hollow, some three hundred yards beneath us, and, by it, half adozen horses, of which four were riderless and held by the two men whowere still mounted. Then, breathlessly scanning the field between theroad and the river, I espied five persons, half way across, and at thesame distance from the water that we were from the coach. Two men, whomI supposed to be St. Auban and Vilmorin, were forcing along a woman,whose struggles, feeble though they appeared--yet retarded theirprogress in some measure. Behind them walked two others, musket onshoulder.
I pointed them out to Michelot with a soft cry of joy. We were in time!
Following with my eyes the course they appeared to be pursuing I saw bythe bank a boat, in which two men were waiting. Again I pointed, thistime to the boat.
"Over the hedge, Michelot!" I cried. "We must ride in a straight linefor the water and so intercept them. Follow me."
Over the hedge we went, and down the gentle slope at as round a paceas the soft ground would with safety allow. I had reckoned upon beingopposed to six or even eight men, whereas there were but four, one ofwhom I knew was hardly to be reckoned. Doubtless St. Auban had imaginedhimself safe from pursuit when he left two of his bravos with thehorses, probably to take them on to Meung, and there cross with them andrejoin him. Two more, I doubted not, were those seated at the oars.
I laughed to myself as I took in all this, but, even as I laughed, thosein the field stood still, and sent up a shout that told me we had beenperceived.
"On, Michelot, on!" I shouted, spurring my horse forward. Then, inanswer to their master's call, the two ruffians who had been doing dutyas grooms came pounding into the field.
"Ride to meet them, Michelot!" I cried. Obediently he wheeled to theleft, and I caught the swish of his sword as it left the scabbard.
St. Auban was now hurrying towards the river with his party. Alreadythey were but fifty yards from the boat, and a hundred still lay betweenhim and me. Furiously I pressed onward, and presently but half thedistance separated us, whilst they were still some thirty yards fromtheir goal.
Then his two bravos faced round to meet me, and one, standing some fiftypaces in ad-vance of the other, levelled his musket and fired. But inhis haste he aimed too high; the bullet carried away my hat, and beforethe smoke had cleared I was upon him. I had drawn a pistol from myholster, but it was not needed; my horse passed over him before he couldsave himself from my fearful charge.
In the fast-fading light a second musket barrel shone, and I saw thesecond ruffian taking aim at me with not a dozen yards between us. Withthe old soldier's instinct I wrenched at the reins till I brought myhorse on to his haunches. It was high time, for simultaneously with myaction the fellow blazed at me, and the scream of pain that broke frommy steed told me that the poor brute had ta
ken the bullet. With a boundthat carried me forward some six paces, the animal sank, quivering, tothe ground. I disengaged my feet from the stirrups as he fell, but theshock of it sent me rolling on the ground, and the ruffian, seeing mefallen, sprang forward, swinging his musket up above his head. I dodgedthe murderous downward stroke, and as the stock buried itself closebeside me in the soft earth I rose on one knee and with a grim laugh Iraised my pistol. I brought the muzzle within a hand's breadth of hisface, then fired and shot him through the head. Perchance you'll say itwas a murderous, cruel stroke: mayhap it was, but at such seasonsmen stay not to unravel niceties, but strike ere they themselves bestricken.
Leaping over the twitching corpse, I got out my sword and sprang afterSt. Auban, who, with Vilmorin and Yvonne, careless of what might betidehis followers, was now within ten paces of the boat.
Pistol shots cracked behind me, and I wondered how Michelot was faring,but dared not pause to look.
The twain in the boat stood up, wielding their great oars, and methoughtthem on the point of coming to their master's aid, in which case mybattle had truly been a lost one. But that craven Vilmorin did me goodservice then, for with a cry of fear at my approach, he abandoned hishold of Yvonne, whose struggles were keeping both the men back; thusfreed, he fled towards the boat, and jumping in, he shouted to the menin his shrill, quavering voice, to put off. Albeit they disobeyed himcontemptuously and waited for the Marquis; still they did not leave theboat, fearing, no doubt, that if they did so the coward would put offalone.
As for St. Auban, Vilmorin's flight left him unequal to the task ofdragging the girl along. She dug her heels into the ground, and, tug ashe might, for all that he set both hands to work, he could not move her.In this plight I came upon him, and challenged him to stand and face me.
With a bunch of oaths he got out his sword, but in doing so he wasforced to remove one of his hands from the girl's arm. Seizing theopportunity with a ready wit and courage seldom found in women of herquality, she twisted herself from the grip of his left hand, and camestaggering towards me for protection, holding up her pinioned wrists.With my blade I severed the cord, whereupon she plucked the gag fromher mouth, and sank against my side, her struggles having left her weakindeed.
As I set my arm about her waist to support her, my heart seemed to swellwithin me, and strange melodies shaped themselves within my soul.
St. Auban bore down upon me with a raucous oath, but the glitteringpoint of my rapier danced before his eyes and drove him back again.
"To me, Vilmorin, you cowardly cur!" he shouted. "To me, you dogs!"
He let fly at them a volley of blood-curdling oaths, then, withoutwaiting to see if they obeyed him, he came at me again, and our swordsmet.
"Courage, Mademoiselle," I whispered, as a sigh that was almost a groanescaped her. "Have no fear."
But that fight was not destined to be fought, for, as again we engaged,there came the fall of running feet behind me. It flashed across mymind that Michelot had been worsted, and that my back was about to beassailed. But in St. Auban's face I saw, as in a mirror, that he whocame was Michelot.
"Mort de Christ!" snarled the Marquis, springing back beyond my reach."What can a man do with naught but fools and poltroons to servehim? Faugh! We will continue our sword-play at St. Sulpice des Reauxto-night. Au revoir, M. de Luynes!"
Turning, he sheathed his sword, and, running down to the river, boundedinto the boat, where I heard him reviling Vilmorin with every foul namehe could call to mind.
My blood was aflame, and I was not minded to wait for our meetingat Reaux. Consigning Mademoiselle to the care of Michelot, who stoodpanting and bleeding from a wound in his shoulder, I turned back to mydead horse, and plucking the remaining pistol from the holster I randown to the very edge of the water. The boat was not ten yards fromshore, and my action had been unheeded by St. Auban, who was standing inthe stern.
Kneeling I took careful aim at him, and as God lives, I would have savedmuch trouble that was to follow had I been allowed to fire. But at thatmoment a hand was laid upon my arm, and Yvonne's sweet voice murmured inmy ear:
"You have fought a brave and gallant fight, M. de Luynes, and you havedone a deed of which the knights of old might have been proud. Do notmar it by an act of murder."
"Murder, Mademoiselle!" I gasped, letting my hand fall. "Surely there isno murder in this!"
"A suspicion of it, I think, and so brave a man should have cleanhands."