Orrain: A Romance
CHAPTER XXVIII
THE ARM OF GOD
Four days had passed since that dreadful night in the Rue desMathurins--days the memory of which can never be effaced whilst I live.No tidings were obtainable of mademoiselle, save that she was amongst theprisoners who were being tried in secret by De Mouchy, and all efforts tocommunicate with her had been in vain. This much, however, leaked out:that owing to the whispers that had got abroad--none knew how--theprisoners, with the exception of one or two, were not of importance; butthis in itself made the matter worse for mademoiselle, and gave the mockcourt of justice--it could be called by no other name--every opportunityof veiling its real purpose. In this De Mouchy was managing the trialwith great skill. The prisoners of no account--the scrivener's clerk,the poor shopkeeper, the small mercer--got the benefit of plea andquibble! God knows, I did not grudge them that! But each acquittal,pronounced loudly in the name of the King's mercy, with high-flown wordsabout the love of the King for his people, led step by step to the realobject for which the infamous triangle worked. Already the gossips werebeginning to wag their tongues at the leniency shown. It was said in thecabarets and public places that the memory of the tailor of St. Antoinehaunted the King, and that he and the Queen were, in secret, heretics.At the last acquittal the cruel mob of Paris had actually dared to paradethe streets, with angry cries at being deprived of the hideous spectacleof an expiation. "_Au feu, au feu_! Death to the Christaudins!" Istill seem to hear their voices.
And so the time was ripe for the law to claim its prey, for the shamelessthree to gather in their spoil, and for an evil, vindictive woman toaccomplish her revenge. The King was at Fontainebleau, whither he hadgone, accompanied by La Valentinois and the Court. The Queen was at St.Germain-en-Laye, and the Louvre--except for its guards--was deserted. Onthe morning of the fifth day, however, the Queen returned, and althoughshe knew what had happened she summoned me before her to hear the storyfrom my lips. I found her in her study with three or four of her ladies.Catherine looked pale and heavy-eyed, and there were hard lines about hermouth. It was said she had never smiled since the day of the masque. Ifor one am certain it was from that day her secretive nature took thedark and devious course that led her to be what she became; but now itwas only the beginning.
I said what I had to say briefly, and when I was done the Queen looked upat me.
"Is this all?"
I bowed in silent response, and after a pause she continued:
"I know what you would ask. I have done my best. I have written to theKing to pardon Mademoiselle de Paradis, as he forgave Madame de Rentigny.I wrote at once, four days ago." And then she flushed to her temples asshe added: "Up to now there has been no answer. It is useless to gomyself----"
Her voice almost broke, and I looked aside, only to meet MademoiselleDavila's eyes. They were swimming with tears.
It was now there arose an unusual bustle in the anteroom. The doors werethrown back, and in a loud voice the ushers announced the Duchess deValentinois. For a moment Diane stood in the doorway, a little crowdbehind her, and then, tall and stately, walked slowly up to the Queen andcourtesied profoundly. Catherine remained frigidly still, as thoughoblivious of her presence, and amidst a dead silence Diane stood beforethe Queen, a faint smile playing on her lips, her eyelids drooped tocover the defiant fire of her glance. One might have counted ten as thetwo faced each other, and then Diane spoke:
"I have come, your Majesty, from the King."
Catherine's eyebrows arched, and a swift, lightning glance of hatredpassed between the two. Then Diane's lids drooped again, and her soft,flute-like voice continued:
"The King kisses your Majesty's hands, and says there is much wind andrain at Fontainebleau, but that he has slain three boars and five stags."
"He has slain three boars and five stags," repeated the Queen in an evenmonotone, and turning to Madame de Montal, who stood behind her chair,she said bitterly: "Why does not somebody cry, 'God save the King!'?"
"All France cries that, your Majesty," said Diane. "And further, theKing once again kisses your Majesty's hands, and has received yourgracious letter in regard to Mademoiselle de Paradis." And now her voicehardened to steel, and she dropped the studied courtesy of her address."That letter has been submitted to the council, and the King has decidedto let the law take its course. God will not be insulted longer in thisrealm."
It is impossible to conceive the insolent malice that was thrown into LaValentinois' glance and voice, and the mockery of her bow, as she madethis speech. And grey-haired Madame de Montal, gazing steadily at her,said:
"Madame, you speak to the Queen!"
"No, Montal," and Catherine rose, her face white as death, "you mistake;it is the Queen who speaks to me." And without so much as a glance inthe direction of the Duchess she turned and left the apartment, followedby her ladies.
The favourite looked around her, a smile of triumph on her lips; but withthe exception of myself the cabinet was empty, though a murmuring crowdfilled the rooms without. It was then, and only then, she realised thatthe victory was not all hers, and felt the sting of the Parthian arrowshot by the Queen. Her cheeks burned red, and I saw the hand that heldher fan tremble like a leaf in the wind. Then with an effort sherecovered herself, and with another glance at me, full of superb disdain,swept from the room. As for me, my last hope had vanished, and I stoodas in a dream, staring at the pattern on the carpet before me. How longI stood thus I do not know, but at last, from within the Queen'sapartments, I heard someone weeping--heard even through the closed doorand drawn curtains. It all but unmanned me; and then I felt a hand on myshoulder, and looking up saw De Lorgnac.
"Orrain," he said, "come with me."
There was that in his eyes and voice which could not be mistaken.
"What has happened?" I asked hoarsely, though I well knew what he meant.
"Come," he said, "be brave! You are a man, and as a man I tell you, youneed all your courage now. The Court is thrown open, and in an hour DeMouchy delivers his sentence. The harlot of France is by his side----"And he stopped, almost breaking down.
"Lorgnac, I am going there."
"It is useless. Le Brusquet is there. Come with me!"
But I turned on him fiercely. "I am going," I repeated, and, perhaps, heread what was in my heart, for he put his arm through mine.
"Come, then. I will come with you."
True and tried friend though he was I shook him off roughly, and hurriedinto the streets like a madman. How I reached the Hotel de Ville Icannot tell! I seemed to have made the passage in darkness; but at lastI found myself there, pressing through the ever-increasing crowd thatthronged the entrance to the trial chamber; and finally, passing thedoors, I took my stand in the gallery reserved for spectators.
With burning eyes I looked upon the scene beneath me. Camus had justconcluded his evidence, and was bowing to the court, a smile on histraitor's face as he listened to some words of compliment addressed tohim by De Mouchy. Simon, the man I wanted, was nowhere to be seen,though my eyes, fierce with hatred, searched for him everywhere. But ona seat beside the judge was La Valentinois herself, radiantly beautiful,now fluttering her fan, now sniffing daintily at her vinaigrette, as shebent her frosty glance on the prisoners. One was old Ferrieres. Like adying man, he leaned back in a chair that had been provided for him, forhis wounds left him no strength to stand. His eyes were closed. Heseemed to have fainted, and was oblivious of what was going on aroundhim, whilst death had already set its seal upon his haggard and drawnface. Mademoiselle stood by his side, a hand resting on his chair. Forone brief second our eyes met, and she smiled at me--a brave smile--and Ibent my head in sorrow, for I could not look. It needed not the cry ofthe ushers in the court for silence. Every tongue was still. There wasnot a whisper, not a movement, for all felt that the supreme moment hadarrived. De Mouchy bent over his papers. I heard them rustling; andthen La Valentinois, leaning forward, said something to hi
m in a lowvoice. There was a word to an usher, and once more the insupportablesilence.
In a little we heard the steady tramp of feet. Nearer and nearer thesound came. A side door in the body of the court was opened, and a thirdprisoner was brought in and placed before the judge. Craning forward Ilooked. It was De Ganache; but how changed from the once brilliantcavalier. His figure was stooped and bent, his once dark hair was white,his face wrinkled as that of an old man, and in his shifty, unsettledglance glared the fires of madness. He did not seem to realise where hewas, but began to laugh vacantly, but the laugh died away to a frozenlook as his gaze fixed itself on La Valentinois.
"Diane," he cried in a terrible voice as he stretched his arms outtowards her, "it was for your sake!"
But she, his destroyer, scarce glanced at him from her place on thejudgment seat.
"He is quite mad!" And with a musical laugh she leaned back, and pickingout a comfit from a little jewelled box began to nibble at it daintily asDe Ganache's hands fell helplessly to his sides.
And now De Mouchy spoke. "Monsieur De Ganache, do you recognise theprisoners there?"
De Ganache followed his glance; a shiver went through him, and as helooked a red flush mounted to his forehead. Never had I seen a man lookso before, and, thank God! never after. Unspeakable shame and hopelessdespair were sealed upon his face. His lips grew livid, and twice thequestion was repeated ere he forced himself to answer.
"Yes."
I held my breath and listened. What did this mean? Ferrieres still layback in his semi-trance, oblivious of all things; but mademoiselle movedforward and looked at De Ganache, ineffable pity in her eyes. And nowcame the next question.
"They are known to you as Christaudins?"
One glance at mademoiselle and De Ganache shrank back; but her voice rangout clear and sweet, for she, with all of us, mistook the reason of DeGanache's terrible emotion.
"Deny it not, De Ganache! Be not afraid."
But with a cry De Ganache put his hands to his face and turned aside. Awoman began to sob amongst the spectators, and someone dropped a swordwith an angry clash on the parquet. Once more the strident voices of theushers arose, and after a little silence was restored.
De Mouchy was about to put yet another question when La Valentinoisinterposed.
"It is enough," she said; "I but wanted to confront them. Let him havehis reward."
De Mouchy smiled, and bending forward addressed De Ganache.
"Gaston de Ganache, Vicomte de Ganache and Les Barres, you standconvicted a heretic and traitor, and for crimes such as yours the laws ofGod and man have but one punishment. But bearing in mind the servicesyou have rendered by denouncing your fellow-conspirators and discoveringtheir secrets to the King's most trusty servants, Simon, Vidame d'Orrain,and myself, the King at the intercession of Madame the Duchess deValentinois has in his gracious mercy spared your life on condition thatyou quit France within four and twenty hours. Monsieur, you are free."
As these astonishing words fell from the judge's lips--words that brandedDe Ganache with unutterable infamy--the miserable man looked around himlike an animal at bay; and then, a madness coming upon him, he broke outinto peal after peal of harsh, mirthless laughter--laughter that seemedto come from the grave and beyond; and, laughing thus, they led him away.When he was gone De Mouchy pointed to Ferrieres as he said to a warder:
"Arouse him!"
They dragged the fainting man to his feet, and he stood limply betweentwo gaolers; and then the judge asked:
"Prisoners, is there anything you would like to say?"
And mademoiselle answered for both, in a low but distinct voice:
"Nothing. We confess we are of the true faith, and we are willing to diefor it. As to our having conspired against the King--we are innocent!"
And as she spoke some strange idea must have passed through the wanderingbrain of Ferrieres. Half in delirium, he looked about him, and with asupreme effort, standing free of the warders, he called out in a loud,fever-strung voice:
"_Vive le Roi_!"
It was one of those moments when the sympathy of a crowd can be caught bya word. Small and mean-looking as he was there was something so forlornand hopeless in the gallant cry of the doomed man that all hearts weretouched. A low, responsive murmur broke from the spectators, and thenwith one voice they too shouted:
"_Vive le Roi_!"
They heard it outside--the multitude who thronged the stairways, thecourtyards, and the Place de Greve. And they too yelled with brazenlungs, and the roar of their voices came to us through the open windows,with the sunbeams that lit the shadows of the vast and gloomy hall.Never did subjects hail their king in a moment more sad.
Ferrieres had sunk back in a crumpled heap, and mademoiselle was leaningover him in womanly sympathy; but the guards thrust her aside, and heldup the dying man once more to hear, if he could, his sentence. Thetumult sank away, and once more there was silence. La Valentinois satstill, watching the prisoners behind her fan; and then De Mouchy, in aspeech that was dignified and impressive even to me who knew theunheard-of guilt of the man, passed the last sentence of the law. Thesin of the prisoners was amply proved. It was against the King, and, hebent his head, against the Church of God. The King had already shown hismercy--all men had seen and felt it--but the wrath of God had shownitself in the disasters that had smitten the land, and France must bepurged clean of the sin of heresy. As for the judge, the laws, and, inchief, the Edict of Compiegne, gave him no power to mitigate thepunishment of wretches so guilty as these who stood now before him. Andso Diane, Demoiselle de Paradis, and Jean, Sieur de Ferrieres, werecondemned to be drawn two days hence on hurdles to the Place Maubert,there to suffer the greater torture and the less, and there to have theirbodies consumed by fire, as Almighty God would hereafter consume theirsouls.
And then, amidst an awed hush, the blasphemer who sat upon the judgmentseat made a sign to the guards to remove the prisoners, and, bendingdown, began slowly to gather up his papers.
As the terrible words fell from De Mouchy's lips I was for the momentovercome, and the immense hall seemed to swim before me, so that I had tosupport myself by holding to the railings of the gallery.
La Valentinois had risen, and was leaning forward looking hard at Diane,as if expecting some cry, some appeal for mercy; but at the last words ofDe Mouchy mademoiselle had bent her head in silent prayer, and then hercalm, pure eyes met those of the wicked woman before her, and rested onher for a moment with a grave pity in them, as she said in a clear voice:
"Madame, God has already taken one of us beyond your reach." And shepointed to Ferrieres. "As for me, His mercy will come to me too, I pray;and may He forgive you as I, who am to die, forgive you now."
It was truth she spoke. A hand more powerful than aught earthly hadrescued Ferrieres, and he was dead. He had passed as he stood there,held by the warders, and the lifeless figure, with its glazed eyesstaring into the unknown, was only kept from falling by the supportinghands around it. Even De Mouchy paled; and La Valentinois, who hadstriven to meet mademoiselle's look with her cruel laugh, shrank back andcovered her face with her hand. And now the guards closed around theirprisoners, the living and the dead, and they passed from my sight.
In a moment the tension was relaxed, and a hundred voices were raised atonce, discussing the sentence, the news of which had already gone forth;and outside the multitude began to hoot and groan and cheer.
A man seized me by the cloak. "A just sentence, was it not, monsieur?"he asked. And then went on: "A pity the old fox died; but it will be agood expiation, almost as good as that of Clinet and De Luns--_cujusregio, ejus religio_," he babbled on, airing his Latin; but I drove thefool from me with a curse, and wonder to this day if he ever knew hownear he was to death.
La Valentinois had arisen, and, followed by De Mouchy and half a dozenothers, was making her way to the exit, all parting before her as thoughshe were the Queen. Now was my chance. Simon h
ad escaped me for to-day;but De Mouchy--he at least was within my reach--and with my hand to myponiard I pressed down the steps of the gallery, but near the door washemmed in by the crowd. Try as I would it was impossible to get through,and a barrier was put up, which made matters hopeless. There as I stoodin impotent rage I saw over the heads of the crowd La Valentinoisentering her coach. She was followed by De Mouchy. The guards closedaround. There was a cheer, and they were gone. It was then that a coldhand touched my wrist, and a voice whispered in my ear:
"There are two days yet; do nothing rash!"
I turned swiftly, and saw Le Brusquet at my elbow, and behind him thetall figure of De Lorgnac; unknown to me he had followed me here.
"Come with us!" he said; and I made no answer, but did as I was bidden,and placing me between them we went back together to the Louvre. Once inLe Brusquet's apartments the reaction set in, and flinging myself in achair I covered my face with my hands--for the first time in my life Ihad broken down utterly.
After a while I somewhat recovered myself. Lorgnac was standing with hisback to me, looking out of the window, and Le Brusquet was by my side, aglass of cordial in his hand.
"Drink this," he said. "Remember there are two days yet; and God's armis long."
Mechanically I drank, and as I held the glass in my hand Le Brusquetremoved his cloak. In doing this something dropped, and stooping hepicked it up. It was a packet of letters, tied with a red ribbon. Witha glance of contempt at it he flung it on the table in front of DeLorgnac, who had joined us, saying as he did so:
"There are De Ganache's letters. I had almost forgotten them."
The packet had fallen on the table, almost under De Lorgnac's eyes. Halfunconsciously he let his glance rest upon it, and then a strangeexpression came into his face, and holding up the letters, he asked LeBrusquet, with apparent unconcern:
"You have not looked at the writing, have you?"
"Not I! I dare swear 'tis some woman. Nothing else would be tied withred ribbon and scented with musk. Throw the thing away. It is too thickwith memories of that traitor. My God! I did not think earth held sofoul a villain."
But Lorgnac took no notice of his last words, only the hand holding thepacket began to shake a little as he said slowly:
"As it happens, I know the writing well. It is a woman's hand------"
Both Le Brusquet and I turned on him, the same thought in our hearts.
"_She_!" I said, and half rising from my seat; but with an exclamation LeBrusquet snatched the packet from De Lorgnac's hand. In a moment theletters were opened, and he was reading them with feverish haste. Therewere four letters in all, and when he had done he looked at us, and therewas the light of hope in his eyes.
"Speak, man!" And I gripped him by the arm. "I cannot bear this longer!"
"It is God's providence," he said solemnly as he grasped my hand."Orrain, take heart! We win! Read these--and you too, Lorgnac! Whenyou have read we must to the Queen at once."