CHAPTER XIII
TEN THOUSAND LIVRES IN A POCKET
The Chevalier, who had merely closed his eyes, opened them and lookedup inquiringly. "Breton," he said, "return in half an hour." Bretonlaid aside his book and departed. "Now, my father and my brother,"began the Chevalier lightly, "what is it you have to say to me theimportance of which necessitates the exclusion of my servant?"
"I wish to do you a service, Monsieur."
"That is kind of you. And what may this service be?"
"A simple warning."
"Ah!"
"The Comte d'Herouville has no love for you."
"Nor I for him." The Chevalier drew the coverlet to his chin andstared through the square port-hole.
"When we land you will still be weak."
"Not so weak that I can not stand."
"All this means that you will fight him?"
"It does."
"A woman?"
"A woman, a vulgar jest and a glass of wine. Monsieur le Comte andmyself have been forbidden to meet under the pain of indefiniteimprisonment. Yonder it will be different."
"Mademoiselle de Longueville . . ."
"Has forgotten the incident, as I had, till D'Herouville came on boardin search of some woman. Monsieur de Saumaise played him a trick ofsome kind, and I stepped between."
"Can you be dissuaded?"
"Not the smallest particle. I shall be strong, never fear."
"I am drawn toward you, Monsieur. I am a priest, but I love courageand the unconfused mind which accompanies it. You are a brave man."
"I?" humorously.
"Yes. Who has heard you complain?"
"Against what?" The Chevalier had propped himself on his elbow.
The Jesuit closed his lips and shook his head.
"Against what?" with piercing eyes. "Did I speak strange words whenfever moved my tongue?"
"No, Monsieur."
"You have said too much or too little," sharply.
"I have heard of Monsieur d'Herouville; he is not a good man."
"Against what did I not complain?" insistently.
"Against the misfortune which brought you here," lowly.
"You know? . . . From whom?" drawing his tongue across his parchedlips.
"I have done wrong to excite you. There were words passed to and frothat morning at the Corne d'Abondance. Need I say more? Monsieur deSaumaise knows, and the vicomte; why should you fear me, who havenothing but brotherly love for you?"
"What is your name?" sinking wearily back among the pillows.
"Father Jacques, or Brother Jacques, familiarly."
"I mean your worldly name."
"I have almost forgotten it," evasively.
"You have not always been a priest?"
"Since I was eighteen." Silence. "Have you anything on your mind ofwhich you wish to be relieved?"
"Nothing. One can not confess who is no nearer God than I."
"Hush! That is blasphemy."
"I am sorely tried."
"Your trials are but a pebble on the sea's floor. Always rememberthat, Monsieur; it will make the days less dark. No matter how muchyou may suffer in the days to come, do not forget that at one time youenjoyed to the full all worldly pleasures; that to you was given thegolden key of life as you loved it. Thousands have been denied these,and your sufferings compared to theirs is as a child's plaint comparedto a man's agony. God has some definite purpose in crossing our paths.Have patience."
"You, too, have suffered?" interestedly. Those almost incredibleeyes,--what mystery lurked in their abysmal greys? "You, too, havesuffered?" the Chevalier repeated.
"I?" A shiver ran over Brother Jacques's frame; his form shook andvibrated like a harpstring rudely struck. "Yes, I have suffered; butGod is applying a remedy called forgetfulness. They will carry you upto the deck this afternoon?"
"Yes. I am told that there are to be games."
Here Breton returned, followed by Victor, who carried a roll of paperin his hand. Brother Jacques pressed the poet's arm affectionately.He had grown to love this youth whose cheeriness and amiability neverleft him.
"Paul, my boy," said Victor, when the priest had gone, "I have starteda ballade of double refrain."
"Is it gay, lad?" The Chevalier was glad to see his friend. There wasno mystery here; he could see to the bottom of this well.
"Not so gay as it might be, nor so melancholy as I strove to make it.Frankly, I was a trifle homesick this morning. There was something inthe air which recalled to me the Loire in the springtime."
The Chevalier looked at Breton, who flushed. "Homesick, eh?" he said."Well, don't be ashamed of it, Victor; Breton here was moping but halfan hour ago over the hills of Perigny. And, truth to tell, so was I."
"Ha!" cried the poet with satisfaction, "that sounds like Paul of old."
"What are the games this afternoon?" asked the Chevalier. "Will therebe foils?"
"Yes." Victor straightened out his papers and cleared his voice.
"And you will take part?"
"Certainly."
"Does the vicomte enter the bouts?"
"He does. I daresay that we shall come together."
"I had rather you would decline," said the Chevalier.
"What! not to face him with the foils?"
"He is a better fencer than you, Victor; and to witness your defeatwould be no less a humiliation to me than to you. You can reasonablydecline."
"And have that boor D'Herouville laugh? No! Let him give me thechance, and I will give him the back of my hand. Hang it, Paul, whatmade you interfere?"
"I have a prior claim. You recollect it well enough. He spoke lightlyof the conduct of Mademoiselle de Longueville, and I threw a glass ofchampagne in his face. You had best decline to measure swords with thevicomte."
"Horns of Panurge! Some of these broken gentlemen doubt my ability.Besides, I may learn something of the vicomte's strength. I wonderwhat it is: when I am out of his presence I dislike him; when heapproaches me, my dislike melts in the air."
"Read me what you have written," resignedly.
"I have polished only the third stanza and the _envoi_. I will readthese to you; and tell me where it lacks smoothness."
"_Beatrice is vanished and with her her smiles; Others shall kiss away Henriette's tears, Others surrender to Marguerite's wiles: Where is La Place with its musketeers? Oh, but the days they shall lengthen to years Ere I return o'er these pathless seas, Carried wherever the Pilot steers! And where are the belles of the balconies?_
"_Prince, where is the tavern's light that cheers? Where is La Place with its musketeers, Golden nights and the May-time breeze? And where are the belles of the balconies?_"
"That will do very well," was the Chevalier's comment. His thought wascarried back, even as the poet's, to La Place Royale. "Read the wholeof it, even if it be in the rough. It will divert me." And,listening, he watched his garments swinging to and fro from the hook,particularly the grey cloak. It held a strange fascination.
"Monsieur improves constantly," observed Breton, soberly.
Victor laughed, and began explaining the difficulty of constructing aballade of double refrain, when a hand fell upon the door.
"Enter," called the Chevalier, listlessly.
The door opened and the vicomte came in. Great good nature beamed fromhis countenance. His strong white teeth displayed themselves in asmile.
"And how are you this morning, Chevalier?" he inquired.
"Only a little more thickness to my blood," returned the Chevalier,smiling with equal good nature, "and I shall be able to stand up andlook into your eyes. Help yourself to a stool. It is good to be illonce in a while, if only to test one's friendships. I am feelingvastly better. Let me thank you for your kindness during the crisis."
"Don't speak of it, Chevalier. It is with great happiness that I seeyou on the highway to complete recovery. There was a time when wefeared for you
." The vicomte took advantage of the Chevalier'scourtesy and drew forward the remaining stool. "I would that you werewell enough to take part in the bouts this afternoon. I was in theAcademy that morning when you disarmed Comminges. La! but thelieutenant was a most surprised man when his sword went rolling to themat."
"It was merely an accident, Vicomte," deprecatingly. "Monsieur deComminges slipped, and I took advantage of his mishap, which I shouldnot have done."
Victor's eyebrows arched. He had witnessed the match, and knew thatthe Chevalier had executed an amazing stroke.
"You are too modest, Chevalier," replied the vicomte. "I learn thatyou have entered the bouts, my poet. I tried to interest D'Herouville,but he declined. He goes about like a moping owl, watching ever for areturning ship which he may hail."
"We shall probably come together," said Victor.
"And I was just telling him, Vicomte," put in the Chevalier, "todecline to measure foils with so hardy a swordsman as yourself. Youare taller, your weight is greater, and your reach is longer. Howmonotonous to lie here, weak and useless!"
"Monsieur de Saumaise may withdraw with all honor," said the vicomte.
"You are very discouraging, Paul," and Victor stuffed his poem into hisdoublet. "Still, what you advance is in the main true. But every manhas a certain trick of his own which he has worked out all by himself,regardless of rules, in defiance of the teachings of thefencing-master. Perhaps I have one which the vicomte is not familiarwith."
"I hope so," said the Chevalier.
"Doubtless he has," added the vicomte.
At four the fencing bouts began between the gentlemen. There were someexciting contests, but ere half an hour was gone the number hadresolved itself into two, Victor and the vicomte.
"Well, Monsieur," said the latter, pleasantly, "suppose we share thelaurels?"
"We shall, with your permission, make the victory more definite,"replied the poet, testing his foil and saluting the ladies above.
"As you please," and the vicomte stepped into position.
It was a pretty exhibition. For a long time it seemed that neitherVictor nor the vicomte had any advantage. What Victor lacked in reachand height he made up in agility. He was as light on his feet as acat. In and out he went, round and round; twice his button came withinan inch of the vicomte's breast. The second round brought noconclusion. As the foils met in the third bout, the vicomte spoke.
"Now, Monsieur," he said, but in so low a tone that only Victor heardhim, "take care. You have made a brave showing, and, on my word, youhold a tolerable blade for a poet. Now then!"
Victor smiled, but a moment later his smile died away, and he drew hislips inward with anxiety. He felt a new power in the foil slitheringup and down his own. Suddenly a thousand needles stung his wrist: hisfoil lay rolling about the deck. The vicomte bowed jestingly, steppedforward and picked up the foil, presenting it to its owner. Again theyresumed guard. Quick as light the vicomte's foil went almost doubleagainst the poet's doublet. From this time on the poet played warily.He maintained a splendid defense, so splendid that doubt began togather in the vicomte's eyes. Twice Victor stooped and his foil slidunder the vicomte's guard, touching him roughly on the thigh, ButVictor was fighting against the inevitable. Gradually the vicomtebroke down the defense, and again Victor's foil was wrested from hisgrasp. The contest came to an end, with seven points for the vicomteand two for the poet. The vicomte was loudly applauded, as was due afamous swordsman and a hail-fellow.
"The Vicomte bowed jestingly."]
The Chevalier, who had followed each stroke with feverish eyes, sighedwith chagrin. There were three strokes he had taught Victor, and thepoet had not used one of them.
"Why did you let those opportunities pass?" he asked, petulantly.
"Some day I may need those strokes. The vicomte does not know that Ipossess them." Victor smiled; then he frowned. "He is made of iron;he is a stone wall; but he is not as brilliant and daring as you are,Paul."
"Let us prolong the truce indefinitely," said the vicomte, later.
Victor bowed without speaking. The courtesy had somethingnon-committal in it, and it did not escape the keen eye of the vicomte.
"Monsieur, you are the most gallant poet I know," and the vicomtesaluted gravely.
They were becalmed the next day and the day following. The afternoonof the second day promised to be dull and uninteresting, but grewsuddenly pregnant with possibilities when the Comte d'Herouvilleaddressed the vicomte with these words: "Monsieur, I should like tospeak to the Chevalier du Cevennes. Will you take upon yourself theresponsibility of conducting me to his cabin? It is not possible forme to ask the courtesy of Monsieur de Saumaise. My patience becomesstrained at the sight of him."
"Certainly, Monsieur," answered the vicomte, pleasantly, though theperpendicular line above his nose deepened. "I dare venture that thematter concerns the coming engagement at Quebec, and you desire awitness."
"Your surmise is correct. I do not wish to take advantage of him. Iwish to know if he believes he will be in condition."
"Follow me." The vicomte started toward the companionway.
The Chevalier lay in his bunk, in profound slumber. Breton was dozingover his Rabelais. The clothes on the hooks moved but slightly. Asthe two visitors entered, the lackey lifted his head and placed afinger against his lips.
"He sleeps?" whispered the vicomte.
Breton nodded, eying d'Herouville with disapproval.
The vicomte stared at the wan face on the pillow. He shrugged hisshoulders, and there was an essence of pity in the movement. Meanwhilethe count gazed with idle curiosity at the partitions. He saw theChevalier's court rapier with its jeweled hilt. The Chevalier'sgrandsire had flaunted the slender blade under the great Constable'snose in the days of Henri II. There had been a time when he himselfhad worn a rapier even more valuable; but the Jews had swallowed iteven as the gaming tables had swallowed his patrimony. Next hefingered the long campaign rapier, and looked away as if trying topenetrate the future. A sharp gasp slipped past his lips.
"Boy," he said lowly and with apparent calm, "was not that a shippassing?"
Breton looked out of the port-hole. As he did so the count grasped thevicomte's arm. The vicomte turned quickly, and for the first time hiseyes encountered the grey cloak. His breath came sharply, while hishand stretched forth mechanically and touched the garment, sinister andrepelling though it was. There followed his touch a crackling sound,as of paper. D'Herouville paled. On the contrary, the vicomte smiled.
"Messieurs," said Breton, "your eyes deceived you. The horizon isclear. But take care, or you will have monsieur's clothes from thehooks."
"Tell your master," said the vicomte, "that we shall pay him a visitlater, when he wakes." He opened the door, and followed D'Herouvilleout.
Once outside the two men gazed into each other's eyes. Each sought todiscover something that lay behind.
"The cloak!" D'Herouville ran his fingers through his beard. "TheChevalier has never searched the pockets."
"Let us lay the matter before him and acquaint him with oursuspicions," said the vicomte, his eyes burning. "His comrade's dangeris common to both of us. We will ask the Chevalier for his word, andhe will never break it."
"No! a thousand devils, no! Place my neck under his heel? Not I."
"You have some plan?"
"Beaufort offers five thousand livres for that paper, and Gaston willgive five thousand more to have proof that it is destroyed. That isten thousand, Monsieur."
"Handsome!"
"And I offer to share with you."
"You do not need money, Monsieur."
"I? The Jews have me tied in a thousand knots!" replied the count,bitterly.
"I am not the least inclined toward partnership. You must manoeuver toreach the inside of that cloak before I do. There is nothing more tobe said, Monsieur."
"Take care!" menacingly.
"Faith
! Monsieur," the vicomte said, coolly, "my sword is quite aslong as yours. And there is the Chevalier. You must fight him first."
"And if you find the paper?" forcing a calm into his tones.
"I shall take the next ship back to France. I will see Beaufort andGaston, and the bubble will be pricked."
"Perhaps you may never return."
"As to that, we shall see. Come, is there not something more than tenthousand livres behind that paper?"
"You banter. I do not understand."
"Is not madame's name there?"
"Well?"
"She is a widow, young, beautiful, and rich. And this incriminatingsignature of hers,--what a fine thing it would be to hold over herhead! She is a woman, and a woman is easily duped in all things savelove."
D'Herouville trembled. "You are forcing war."
"So be it," tranquilly. "I will make one compact with you; if I findthe paper I will inform you. Will you accept a like?"
"Yes."
"Good. Now, then, once in Paris, I will stake ten thousand livresagainst your tentative claims to madame's hand. We will play at_vingt-et-un_. That is true gambling, Monsieur, and you are a goodjudge."
"I pick up the gauntlet with pleasure, under all conditions. Besides,an idea has occurred to me. The paper may not be what we think it is.The man who killed De Brissac is not one to give up or throw away therewards. Eh, Monsieur?"
"Perhaps he was pressed for time. His life perhaps depended upon hisescape. He may have dropped the cloak," shrewdly, "and some friendfound it and returned it to the Chevalier. A plausible supposition, asyou will agree."
"You may tell me a lie," said D'Herouville, thoughtfully.
"It would not be necessary, Monsieur le Comte," returned the vicomte,suggestively tapping his sword.