The Suitors of Yvonne: being a portion of the memoirs of the Sieur Gaston de Luynes
CHAPTER XXIV. OF THE PASSING OF ST. AUBAN
Dame! What an ado there was next day in Blois, when the news came thatthe troopers had installed themselves at the Chateau de Canaples andthat the Chevalier had been arrested for treason by order of the LordCardinal, and that he would be taken to Paris, and--probably--thescaffold.
Men gathered in little knots at street corners, and with sullen browsand threatening gestures they talked of the affair; and the morethey talked, the more clouded grew their looks, and more than oneanti-cardinalist pasquinade was heard in Blois that day.
Given a leader those men would have laid hands upon pikes and muskets,and gone to the Chevalier's rescue. As I observed them, the thought didcross my mind that I might contrive a pretty fight in the rose garden ofCanaples were I so inclined. And so inclined I should, indeed, have beenbut for the plan that had come to me like an inspiration from above, andwhich methought would prove safer in the end.
To carry out this plan of mine, I quitted Blois at nightfall, with mytwo knaves, having paid my reckoning at the Lys de France, and givenout that we were journeying to Tours. We followed the road that leads toCanaples, until we reached the first trees bordering the park. ThereI dismounted, and, leaving Abdon to guard the horses, I made my way onfoot, accompanied by Michelot, towards the garden.
We gained this, and were on the point of quitting the shadow of thetrees, when of a sudden, by the light of the crescent moon, I behelda man walking in one of the alleys, not a hundred paces from where westood. I had but time to seize Michelot by the collar of his pourpointand draw him towards me. But as he trod precipitately backwards a twigsnapped 'neath his foot with a report that in the surrounding stillnesswas like a pistol shot.
I caught my breath as he who walked in the garden stood still, his face,wrapped in the shadows of his hat, turned towards us.
"Who goes there?" he shouted. Then getting no reply he came resolutelyforward, whilst I drew a pistol wherewith to welcome him did he come toonear.
On he came, and already I had brought my pistol to a level with hishead, when fortunately he repeated his question, "Who goes there?"--andthis time I recognised the voice of Montresor, the very man I could thenmost wish to meet.
"Hist! Montresor!" I called softly. "'T is I--Luynes."
"So!" he exclaimed, coming close up to me. "You have reached Canaples atlast!"
"At last?" I echoed.
"Whom have you there?" he inquired abruptly.
"Only Michelot."
"Bid him fall behind a little."
When Michelot had complied with this request, "You see, M. de Luynes,"quoth the officer, "that you have arrived too late."
There was a certain coldness in his tone that made me seek by my replyto sound him.
"Indeed, I trust not, my friend. With your assistance I hope to get M.de Canaples from the clutches of St. Auban."
He shook his head.
"It is impossible that I should help you," he replied with increasingcoldness. "Already once for your sake have I broken faith to those whopay me, by setting you in a position to forestall St. Auban and get M.de Canaples away before his arrival. Unfortunately, you have dalliedon the road, M. de Luynes, and Canaples is already a prisoner--a doomedone, I fear."
"Is that your last word, Montresor?" I inquired sadly.
"I am sorry," he answered in softened tones, "but you must see that Icannot do otherwise. I warned you; more you cannot expect of me."
I sighed, and stood musing for an instant. Then--"You are right,Montresor. Nevertheless, I am still grateful to you for the warning yougave me in Paris. God pity and help Canaples! Adieu, Montresor. I do notthink that you will see me again."
He took my hand, but as he did so he pushed me back into the shadow fromwhich I had stepped to proffer it him.
"Peste!" he ejaculated. "The moon was full upon your face, and did St.Auban chance to look out, he must have seen you."
I followed the indication of his thumb, and noted the lighted window towhich he pointed. A moment later he was gone, and as I joined Michelot,I chuckled softly to myself.
For two hours and more I sat in the shrubbery, conversing in whisperswith Michelot, and watching the lights in the chateau die out one byone, until St. Auban's window, which opened on to the terrace balcony,was the only one that was not wrapt in darkness.
I waited a little while longer, then rising I cautiously made a tour ofinspection. Peace reigned everywhere, and the only sign of life was thesentry, who with musket on shoulder paced in front of the main entrance,a silent testimony of St. Auban's mistrust of the Blaisois and of hisfears of a possible surprise.
Satisfied that everyone slept I retraced my steps to the shrubbery whereMichelot awaited me, watching the square of light, and after exchangingword with him, I again stepped forth.
When I was half way across the intervening space of garden, treadingwith infinite precaution, a dark shadow obscured the window, which asecond later was thrown open. Crouching hastily behind a boxwood hedge,I watched St. Auban--for I guessed that he it was--as he leaned out andgazed skywards.
For a little while he remained there, then he withdrew, leaving thecasement open, and presently I caught the grating of a chair on theparquet floor within. If ever the gods favoured mortal, they favoured meat that moment.
Stealthily as a cat I sprang towards the terrace, the steps to which Iclimbed on hands and knees. Stooping, I sped silently across it until Ihad gained the flower-bed immediately below the window that had drawnme to it. Crouching there--for did I stand upright my chin would be on alevel with the sill--I paused to listen for some moments. The only soundI caught was a rustle, as of paper. Emboldened, I took a deep breath,and standing up I gazed straight into the chamber.
By the light of four tapers in heavy silver sconces, I beheld St. Aubanseated at a table littered with parchments, over which he was intentlyporing. His back was towards me, and his long black hair hung straightupon his shoulders. On the table, amid the papers, lay his golden wigand black mask, and on the floor in the centre of the room, his back andbreast of blackened steel and his sword.
It needed but little shrewdness to guess those parchments before himto be legal documents touching the Canaples estates, and his occupationthat of casting up exactly what profit he would reap from his infamouswork of betrayal.
So intent was the hound upon his calculations that my cautious movementspassed unheeded by him as I got astride of the window ledge. It was onlywhen I swung my right leg into the room that he turned his head, butbefore his eyes reached me I was standing upright and motionless withinthe chamber.
I have seen fear of many sorts writ large upon the faces of men of manyconditions--from the awe that blanches the cheek of the boy soldier whenfirst he hears the cannon thundering to the terror that glazes the eyeof the vanquished swordsman who at every moment expects the deadly pointin his heart. But never had I gazed upon a countenance filled with suchabject ghastly terror as that which came over St. Auban's when his eyesmet mine that night.
He sprang up with an inarticulate cry that sank into something that Ican but liken to the rattle which issues from the throat of expiringmen. For a second he stood where he had risen, then terror loosened hisknees, and he sank back into his chair. His mouth fell open, and thetrembling lips were drawn down at the corners like those of a sobbingchild; his cheeks turned whiter than the lawn collar at his throat, andhis eyes, wide open in a horrid stare, were fixed on mine and, powerlessto avert them, he met my gaze--cold, stern, and implacable.
For a moment we remained thus, and I marvelled greatly to see a manwhose heart, if full of evil, I had yet deemed stout enough, stricken byfear into so parlous and pitiful a condition.
Then I had the explanation of it as he lifted his right hand and madethe sign of the cross, first upon himself, then in the air, whilst hislips moved, and I guessed that to himself he was muttering some prayerof exorcising purport. There was the solution of the terror--sweatthat stood out in beads upon his brow-
-he had deemed me a spectre; thespectre of a man he believed to have foully done to death on a spotacross the Loire visible from the window at my back.
At last he sufficiently mastered himself to break the awful silence.
"What do you want?" he whispered; then, his voice gaining power as heused it--"Speak," he commanded. "Man or devil, speak!"
I laughed for answer, harshly, mockingly; for never had I known afiercer, crueller mood. At the sound of that laugh, satanical though mayhave been its ring, he sprang up again, and unsheathing a dagger he tooka step towards me.
"We shall see of what you are made," he cried. "If you blast me in theact, I'll strike you!"
I laughed again, and raising my arm I gave him the nozzle of a pistol tocontemplate.
"Stand where you are, St. Auban, or, by the God above us, I'll send yourghost a-wandering," quoth I coolly.
My voice, which I take it had nothing ghostly in it, and still morethe levelled pistol, which of all implements is the most unghostly,dispelled his dread. The colour crept slowly back to his cheeks, and hismouth closed with a snap of determination.
"Is it, indeed, you, master meddler?" he said. "Peste! I thought youdead these three months."
"And you are overcome with joy to find that you were in error, eh,Marquis? We Luynes die hard."
"It seems so, indeed," he answered with a cool effrontery past creditingin one who but a moment ago had looked so pitiful. "What do you seek atCanaples?"
"Many things, Marquis. You among others."
"You have come to murder me," he cried, and again alarm overspread hiscountenance.
"Hoity, toity, Marquis! We do not all follow the same trade. Who talksof murder? Faugh!"
Again he took a step towards me, but again the nozzle of my pistol drovehim back. To have pistoled him there and then as he deserved would havebrought the household about my ears, and that would have defeated myobject. To have fallen upon him and slain him with silent steel wouldhave equally embarrassed me, as you shall understand anon.
"You and I had a rendezvous at St. Sulpice des Reaux," I said calmly,"to which you came with a band of hired assassins. For this you deserveto be shot like the dog you are. But I have it in my heart to begenerous to you," I added in a tone of irony. "Come, take up yoursword."
"To what purpose?"
"Do you question me? Take up your sword, man, and do my bidding; thusshall you have a slender chance of life. Refuse and I pistol you withoutcompunction. So now put on that wig and mask."
When he obeyed me in this--"Now listen, St. Auban," I said. "You andI are going together to that willow copse whither three months ago youlured Yvonne de Canaples for the purpose of abducting her. On that spotyou and I shall presently face each other sword in hand, with none otherto witness our meeting save God, in whose hands the issue lies. That isyour chance; at the first sign that you meditate playing me any tricks,that chance is lost to you." And I tapped my pistol significantly. "Nowclimb out through that window."
When he had done so, I bade him stand six paces away whilst I followed,and to discourage any foolish indiscretion on his part I again showedhim my pistol.
He answered me with an impatient gesture, and by the light that fell onhis face I saw him sneer.
"Come on, you fool," he snarled, "and have done threatening. I'll talkto you in the copse. And tread softly lest you arouse the sentry on theother side."
Rejoiced to see the man so wide awake in him, I followed him closelyacross the terrace, and through the rose garden to the bank of theriver. This we followed until we came at last to the belt of willows,where, having found a suitable patch of even and springy turf, I drew mysword and invited him to make ready.
"Will you not strip?" he inquired sullenly.
"I do not think so," I answered. "The night air is sharp. Nevertheless,do you make ready as best you deem fit, and that speedily, Monsieur."
With an exclamation of contempt, he divested himself of his wig, mask,and doublet, then drawing his sword, he came forward, and announcedhimself at my disposal.
As well you may conceive, we wasted no time in compliments, butstraightway went to work, and that with a zest that drew sparks from ourrapiers at the first contact.
The Marquis attacked me furiously, and therein lay his only chance; fora fierce, rude sword-play that is easily dealt with in broad daylightis vastly discomposing in such pale moonshine as lighted us. I defendedmyself warily, for of a sudden I had grown conscious of the danger thatI ran did he once by luck or strength get past my guard with that pointof his which in the spare light I could not follow closely enough tofeel secure.
'Neath the fury of his onslaught I was compelled to break ground morethan once, and each time he was so swift to follow up his advantage thatI had ne'er a chance to retaliate.
Still fear or doubt of the issue I had none. I needed but to wait untilthe Marquis's fury was spent by want of breath, to make an end of it.And presently that which I waited for came about. His attack began tolag in vigour, and the pressure of his blade to need less resistance,whilst his breathing grew noisy as that of a broken-winded horse. Thenwith the rage of a gambler who loses at every throw, he cursed andreviled me with every thrust or lunge that I turned aside.
My turn was come; yet I held back, and let him spend his strength to theutmost drop, whilst with my elbow close against my side and by an easyplay of wrist, I diverted each murderous stroke of his point that cameagain and again for my heart.
When at last he had wasted in blasphemies what little breath his wildexertions had left him, I let him feel on his blade the twist thatheralded my first riposte. He caught the thrust, and retreated astep, his blasphemous tongue silenced, and his livid face bathed inperspiration.
Cruelly I toyed with him then, and with every disengagement I made himrealise that he was mastered, and that if I withheld the coup de graceit was but to prolong his agony. And to add to the bitterness of thatagony of his, I derided him whilst I fenced; with a recitation of hismany sins I mocked him, showing him how ripe he was for hell, and askinghim how it felt to die unshriven with such a load upon his soul.
Goaded to rage by my bitter words, he grit his teeth, and gathered whatrags of strength were left him for a final effort, And before I knewwhat he was about, he had dropped on to his left knee, and with his bodythrown forward and supported within a foot of the ground by his leftarm, he came, like a snake, under my guard with his point directedupwards.
So swift had been this movement and so unlooked-for, that had I notsprung backwards in the very nick of time, this narrative of mine hadne'er been written. With a jeering laugh I knocked aside his sword, buteven as I disengaged, to thrust at him, he knelt up and caught my bladein his left hand, and for all that it ate its way through the flesh tothe very bones of his fingers, he clung to it with that fierce strengthand blind courage that is born of despair.
Then raising himself on his knees again, he struck at me wildly. I swungaside, and as his sword, missing its goal, shot past me, I caught hiswrist in a grip from which I contemptuously invited him to free himself.With that began a fierce tugging and panting on both sides, which,however, was of short duration, for presently, my blade, having severedthe last sinew of his fingers, was set free. Simultaneously I let gohis wrist, pushing his arm from me so violently that in his exhaustedcondition it caused him to fall over on his side.
In an instant, however, he was up and at me again. Again our swordsclashed--but once only. It was time to finish. With a vigorousdisengagement I got past his feeble guard and sent my blade into himfull in the middle of his chest and out again at his back until a footor so of glittering steel protruded.
A shudder ran through him, and his mouth worked oddly, whilstspasmodically he still sought, without avail, to raise his sword; thenas I recovered my blade, a half-stifled cry broke from his lips, andthrowing up his arms, he staggered and fell in a heap.
As I turned him over to see if he were dead, his eyes met mine, and werefull of piteous entreaty; his l
ips moved, and presently I caught thewords:
"I am sped, Luynes." Then struggling up, and in a louder voice: "Apriest!" he gasped. "Get me a priest, Luynes. Jesu! Have mer--"
A rush of blood choked him and cut short his utterance. He writhed andtwitched for a moment, then his chin sank forward and he fell back,death starkening his limbs and glazing the eyes which stared hideouslyupwards at the cold, pitiless moon.
Such was the passing of the Marquis Cesar de St. Auban.