The Red Cockade

  CHAPTER X.

  THE MORNING AFTER THE STORM.

  Father Benoit had the forethought, when we reached the cross-roads, toleave a man there to await the party from Cahors, and warn them ofMademoiselle's safety; and we had not ridden more than half a milebefore the clatter of hoofs behind us announced that they werefollowing. I was beginning to recover from the stupor into which theexcitement of the night had thrown me, and I reined up to deliver overmy charge, should M. de St. Alais desire to take her.

  But he was not of the party. The leader was Louis, and his companyconsisted, to my surprise, of no more than six or seven servants, oldM. de Gontaut, one of the Harincourts, and a strange gentleman. Theirhorses were panting and smoking with the speed at which they had come,and the men's eyes glittered with excitement. No one seemed to thinkit strange that I carried Mademoiselle; but all, after hurriedlythanking God that she was safe, hastened to ask the number of therioters.

  "Nearly a hundred," I said. "As far as I could judge. But where is M.le Marquis?"

  "He had not returned when the alarm came."

  "You are a small party?"

  Louis swore with vexation. "I could get no more," he said. "News cameat the same time that Marignac's house was on fire, and he carried offa dozen. A score of others took fright, and thought it might be thesame with them; and they saddled up in haste, and went to see. Infact," he continued bitterly, "it seemed to me to be every one forhimself. Always excepting my good friends here."

  M. de Gontaut began to chuckle, but choked for want of breath. "Beautyin distress!" he gasped. Poor fellow, he could scarcely sit his horse.

  "But you will come on to Saux?" I said. They were turning their horsesin a cloud of steam that mistily lit up the night.

  "No!" Louis answered, with another oath; and I did not wonder that hewas not himself, that his usual good nature had deserted him. "It isnow or never! If we can catch them at this work----"

  I did not hear the rest. The trampling of their horses, as they drovein the spurs and started down the road, drowned the words. In a momentthey were fifty paces away; all but one, who, detaching himself at thelast moment, turned his horse's head, and rode up to me. It was thestranger, the only one of the party, not a servant, whom I did notknow.

  "How are they armed, if you please?" he asked.

  "They have at least one gun," I said, looking at him curiously. "Andby this time probably more. The mass of them had pikes andpitchforks."

  "And a leader?"

  "Petit Jean, the smith, of St. Alais, gave orders."

  "Thank you, M. le Vicomte," he said, and saluted. Then, touching hishorse with the spur, he rode off at speed after the others.

  I was in no condition to help them, and I was anxious to putMademoiselle, who lay in my arms like one dead, in the women's care.The moment they were gone, therefore, we pursued our way, FatherBenoit and I silent and full of thought, the others chattering to oneanother without pause or stay. Mademoiselle's head lay on my rightshoulder. I could feel the faint beating of her heart; and in thatslow, dark ride had time to think of many things: of her courage andwill and firmness--this poor little convent-bred one, who a fortnightbefore had not found a word to throw at me; last, but not least, ofthe womanly weakness, dear to my man's heart, that had sapped herreserve at last, and brought her arms to my neck and her cry to myear. The faint perfume of her hair was in my nostrils; I longed tokiss the half-shrouded head. But, if in an hour I had learned to loveher, I had learned to honour her more; and I repressed the impulse,and only held her more gently, and tried to think of other thingsuntil she should be out of my arms.

  If I did not find that so easy, it was not for want of food forthought. The glow of the fire behind us reddened all the sky at ourbacks; the murmur of the mob pursued us; more than once, as we went, afigure sneaked by us in the blackness, and fled, as if to join them.Father Benoit fancied that there was a second fire a league to theeast; and in the tumult and upheaval of all things on this night, andthe consequent confusion of thought into which I had fallen, it wouldscarcely have surprised me if flames had broken out before us also,and announced that Saux was burning.

  But I was spared that. On the contrary, the whole village came out tomeet us, and accompanied us, cheering, from the gates to the door ofthe Chateau, where, in the glare of the lights they carried, and amida great silence of curiosity and expectation, Mademoiselle was liftedfrom my saddle and carried into the house. The women who pressed roundthe door to see, stooped forward to follow her with their eyes; butnone as I followed her.

  * * * * *

  Much that passes for fair at night wears a foul look by day; andthings tolerable in the suffering have a knack of seemingfantastically impossible in the retrospect. When I awoke next morning,in the great chair in the hall--wherein, tradition had it, Louis theThirteenth had once sat--and, after three hours of troubled sleep,found Andre standing over me, and the sun pouring in through door andwindow, I fancied for a moment that the events of the night, as Iremembered them, were a dream. Then my eyes fell on a brace ofpistols, which I had placed by my side over night, and on the tray atwhich Father Benoit and I had refreshed ourselves; and I knew that thethings had happened. I sprang up.

  "Is M. de St. Alais here?" I said.

  "No, Monsieur."

  "Nor M. le Comte?"

  "No, Monsieur."

  "What!" I said. "Have none of the party come?" For I had gone to sleepexpecting to be called up to receive them within the hour.

  "No, M. le Vicomte," the old man answered, "except--except onegentleman who was with them, and who is now walking with M. le Cure inthe garden. And for him----"

  "Well?" I said sharply, for Andre, who had got on his most gloomy anddogmatic air, stopped with a sniff of contempt.

  "He does not seem to be a man for whom M. le Vicomte should beroused," he answered obstinately. "But M. le Cure would have it; andin these days, I suppose, we must tramp for a smith, let alone anofficer of excise."

  "Buton is here, then?"

  "Yes, Monsieur; and walking on the terrace, as if of the family. I donot know what things are coming to," Andre continued, grumbling, andraising his voice as I started to go out, "or what they would be at.But when M. le Vicomte took away the _carcan_ I knew what was likelyto happen. Oh! yes," he went on still more loudly, while he stoodholding the tray, and looking after me with a sour face, "I knew whatwould happen! I knew what would happen!"

  And, certainly, if I had not been shaken completely out of the commonrut of thought, I should have found something odd, myself, in thecombination of the three men whom I found on the terrace. They werewalking up and down, Father Benoit, with downcast eyes and his handsbehind him, in the middle. On one side of him moved Buton, coarse,heavy-shouldered, and clumsy, in his stained blouse; on the other sidepaced the stranger of last night, a neat, middle-sized man, veryplainly dressed, with riding boots and a sword. Remembering that hehad formed one of Louis' party, I was surprised to see that he worethe tricolour; but I forgot this in my anxiety to know what had becomeof the others. Without standing on ceremony, I asked him.

  "They attacked the rioters, lost one man, and were beaten off," heanswered with dry precision.

  "And M. le Comte?"

  "Was not hurt. He returned to Cahors, to raise more men. I, as myadvice seemed to be taken in ill part, came here."

  He spoke in a blunt, straightforward way, as to an equal; and at onceseemed to be, and not to be, a gentleman. The Cure, seeing that hepuzzled me, hastened to introduce him.

  "This, M. le Vicomte," he said, "is M. le Capitaine Hugues, late ofthe American Army. He has placed his services at the disposal of theCommittee."

  "For the purpose," the Captain went on, before I had made up my mindhow to take it, "of drilling and commanding a body of men to be raisedin Quercy to keep the peace. Call them militia; call them what youlike."

  I was a good deal taken aback. The man, a
lert, active, practical, withthe butt of a pistol peeping from his pocket, was something new to me.

  "You have served his Majesty?" I said at last, to gain time to think.

  "No," he answered. "There are no careers in that army, unless you haveso many quarterings. I served under General Washington."

  "But I saw you last night with M. de St. Alais?"

  "Why not, M. le Vicomte?" he answered, looking at me plainly. "I heardthat a house was being burned. I had just arrived, and I placed myselfat M. le Comte's disposal. But they had no method, and would take noadvice."

  "Well," I said, "these seem to me to be rather extreme steps. Youknow----"

  "M. de Marignac's house was burned last night," the Cure said softly.

  "Oh!"

  "And I fear that we shall hear of others. I think that we must lookmatters in the face, M. le Vicomte."

  "It is not a question of thinking or looking, but of doing!" theCaptain said, interrupting him harshly. "We have a long summer's daybefore us, but if by to-night we have not done something, there willbe a sorry dawning in Quercy to-morrow."

  "There are the King's troops," I said.

  "They refuse to obey orders. Therefore, they are worse than useless."

  "Their officers?"

  "They are staunch; but the people hate them. A knight of St. Louis isto the mob what a red rag is to a bull. I can answer for it that theyhave enough to do to keep their men in barracks, and guard their ownheads."

  I resented his familiarity, and the impatience with which he spoke;but, resent it as I might, I could not return to the tone I had usedyesterday. Then it had seemed an outrageous thing that Buton shouldstand by and listen. To-day the same thing had an ordinary air. Andthis, moreover, was a different man from Doury; arguments that hadcrushed the one would have no weight with the other. I saw that, and,rather helplessly, I asked Father Benoit what he would have.

  He did not answer. It was the Captain who replied. "We want you tojoin the Committee," he said briskly.

  "I discussed that yesterday," I answered with some stiffness. "Icannot do so. Father Benoit will tell you so."

  "It is not Father Benoit's answer I want," the Captain replied. "It isyours, M. le Vicomte."

  "I answered yesterday," I said haughtily--"and refused."

  "Yesterday is not to-day," he retorted. "M. de St. Alais' house stoodyesterday; it is a smoking ruin today. M. de Marignac's likewise.Yesterday much was conjecture. To-day facts speak for themselves. Afew hours' hesitation, and the province will be in a blaze from oneend to the other."

  I could not gainsay this; at the same time there was one other thing Icould not do, and that was change my views again. Having solemnly puton the white cockade in Madame St. Alais' drawing-room, I had not thecourage to execute another _volte-face_. I could not recant again.

  "It is impossible--impossible in my case," I stammered at lastpeevishly, and in a disjointed way. "Why do you come again to me? Whydo you not go to some one else? There are two hundred others whosenames----"

  "Would be of no use to us," M. le Capitaine answered brusquely;"whereas yours would reassure the fearful, attach some moderate men tothe cause and not disgust the masses. Let me be frank with you, M. leVicomte," he continued in a different tone. "I want your co-operation.I am here to take risks, but none that are unnecessary; and I preferthat my commission should issue from above as well as from below. Addyour name to the Committee and I accept their commission. Withoutdoubt I could police Quercy in the name of the Third Estate, but Iwould rather hang, draw, and quarter in the name of all three."

  "Still, there are others----"

  "You forget that I have got to rule the _canaille_ in Cahors," heanswered impatiently, "as well as these mad clowns, who think that theend of the world is here. And those others you speak of----"

  "Are not acceptable," Father Benoit said gently, looking at me withyearning in his kind eyes. The light morning air caught the skirts ofhis cassock as he spoke, and lifted them from his lean figure. He heldhis shovel hat in his hand, between his face and the sun. I knew thatthere was a conflict in his mind as in mine, and that he would have meand would have me not; and the knowledge strengthened me to resist hiswords.

  "It is impossible," I said.

  "Why?"

  I was spared the necessity of answering. I had my face to the door ofthe house, and as the last word was spoken saw Andre issue from itwith M. de St. Alais. The manner in which the old servant cried, "M.le Marquis de St. Alais, to see M. le Vicomte!" gave us a littleshock, it was so full of sly triumph; but nothing on M. de St. Alais'part, as he approached, betrayed that he noticed this. He advancedwith an air perfectly gay, and saluted me with good humour. For amoment I fancied that he did not know what had happened in the night;his first words, however, dispelled the idea.

  "M. le Vicomte," he said, addressing me with both ease and grace, "weare for ever grateful to you. I was abroad on business last night, andcould do nothing; and my brother must, I am told, have come too late,even if, with so small a force, he could effect anything. I sawMademoiselle as I passed through the house, and she gave me someparticulars."

  "She has left her room?" I cried in surprise. The other three haddrawn back a little, so that we enjoyed a kind of privacy.

  "Yes," he answered, smiling slightly at my tone. "And I can assureyou, M. le Vicomte, has spoken as highly of you as a maiden dare. Forthe rest, my mother will convey the thanks of the family to you morefitly than I can. Still, I may hope that you are none the worse."

  I muttered that I was not; but I hardly knew what I said. St. Alais'demeanour was so different from that which I had anticipated, his easycalmness and gaiety were so unlike the rage and heat which seemednatural in one who had just heard of the destruction of his house andthe murder of his steward, that I was completely nonplussed. Heappeared to be dressed with his usual care and distinction, though Iwas bound to suppose that he had been up all night; and, though theoutrages at St. Alais and Marignac's had given the lie to his mostconfident predictions, he betrayed no sign of vexation.

  All this dazzled and confused me; yet I must say something. I muttereda hope that Mademoiselle was not greatly shaken by her experiences.

  "I think not," he said. "We St. Alais are not made of sugar. And aftera night's rest--- But I fear that I am interrupting you?" And for thefirst time he let his eyes rest on my companions.

  "It is to Father Benoit and to Buton here, that your thanks are reallydue, M. le Marquis," I said. "For without their aid----"

  "That is so, is it?" he said coldly. "I had heard it."

  "But not all?" I exclaimed.

  "I think so," he said. Then, continuing to look at them, though hespoke to me, he continued: "Let me tell you an apologue, M. leVicomte. Once upon a time there was a man who had a grudge against aneighbour because the good man's crops were better than his. He went,therefore, secretly and by night, and not all at once--not all atonce, Messieurs, but little by little--he let on to his neighbour'sland the stream of a river that flowed by both their farms. Hesucceeded so well that presently the flood not only covered the crops,but threatened to drown his neighbour, and after that his own cropsand himself! Apprised too late of his folly---- But how do you likethe apologue, M. le Cure?"

  "It does not touch me," Father Benoit answered with a wan smile.

  "I am no man's servant, as the slave boasted," St. Alais answered witha polite sneer.

  "For shame! for shame, M. le Marquis!" I cried, losing patience. "Ihave told you that but for M. le Cure and the smith here, Mademoiselleand I----"

  "And I have told you," he answered, interrupting me with grim goodhumour, "what I think of it, M. le Vicomte! That is all."

  "But you do not know what happened?" I persisted, stung to wrath byhis injustice. "You are not, you cannot be, aware that when FatherBenoit and his companions arrived, Mademoiselle de St. Alais and Iwere in the most desperate plight? that they saved us only at greatrisk to themselves? and that for our safety at last you have to
thankrather the tricolour, which those wretches respected, than any displayof force which we were able to make."

  "That, too, is so, is it?" he said, his face grown dark. "I shall havesomething to say to it presently. But, first, may I ask you aquestion, M. le Vicomte? Am I right in supposing that these gentlemenare waiting on you from--pardon me if I do not get the titlecorrectly--the Honourable the Committee of Public Safety?"

  I nodded.

  "And I presume that I may congratulate them on your answer?"

  "No, you may not!" I replied, with satisfaction. "This gentleman"--andI pointed to the Capitaine Hugues--"has laid before me certainproposals and certain arguments in favour of them."

  "But he has not laid before you the most potent of all arguments," theCaptain said, interposing, with a dry bow. "I find it, and you, M. leVicomte, will find it, too, in M. le Marquis de St. Alais!"

  The Marquis stared at him coldly. "I am obliged to you," he saidcontemptuously. "By-and-by, perhaps, I shall have more to say to you.For the present, however, I am speaking to M. le Vicomte." And heturned and addressed me again. "These gentlemen have waited on you. DoI understand that you have declined their proposals?"

  "Absolutely!" I answered. "But," I continued warmly, "it does notfollow that I am without gratitude or natural feeling."

  "Ah!" he said. Then, turning, with an easy air, "I see your servantthere," he said. "May I summon him one moment?"

  "Certainly."

  He raised his hand, and Andre, who was watching us from the doorway,flew to take his orders.

  He turned to me again. "Have I your permission?"

  I bowed, wondering.

  "Go, my friend, to Mademoiselle de St. Alais," he said. "She is in thehall. Beg her to be so good as to honour us with her presence."

  Andre went, with his most pompous air; and we remained, wondering. Noone spoke. I longed to consult Father Benoit by a look, but I darednot do so, lest the Marquis, who kept his eyes on my face, his ownwearing an enigmatical smile, should take it for a sign of weakness.So we stood until Mademoiselle appeared in the doorway, and, after amomentary pause, came timidly along the terrace towards us.

  She wore a frock which I believe had been my mother's, and was toolong for her; but it seemed to my eyes to suit her admirably. Akerchief covered her shoulders, and she had another laid lightly onher unpowdered hair, which, knotted up loosely, strayed in tinyringlets over her neck and ears. To this charming disarray, herblushes, as she came towards us, shading her eyes from the sun, addedthe last piquancy. I had not seen her since the women lifted her frommy saddle, and, seeing her now, coming along the terrace in the freshmorning light, I thought her divine! I wondered how I could have lether go. An insane desire to defy her brother and whirl her off, out ofthis horrid imbroglio of parties and politics, seized upon me.

  But she did not look towards me, and my heart sank. She had eyes onlyfor M. le Marquis; approaching him as if he had a magnet which drewher to him.

  "Mademoiselle," he said gravely, "I am told that your escape lastnight was due to your adoption of an emblem, which I see that you arestill wearing. It is one which no subject of his Majesty can wear withhonour. Will you oblige me by removing it?"

  Pale and red by turns, she shot a piteous glance at us. "Monsieur?"she muttered, as if she did not understand.

  "I think I have spoken plainly," he said. "Be good enough to removeit."

  Wincing under the rebuke, she hesitated, looking for a moment as ifshe would burst into tears. Then, with her lip trembling, and withtrembling fingers, she complied, and began to unfasten the tricolour,which the servants--without her knowledge, it may be--had removed fromthe robe she had worn to that which she now wore. It took her a longtime to remove it, under our eyes, and I grew hot with indignation.But I dared not interfere, and the others looked on gravely.

  "Thank you," M. de Alais said, when, at last, she had succeeded inunpinning it. "I know, Mademoiselle, that you are a true St. Alais,and would die rather than owe your life to disloyalty. Be good enoughto throw that down, and tread upon it."

  She started violently at the words. I think we all did. I know that Itook a step forward, and, but for M. le Marquis' raised hand, musthave intervened. But I had no right; we were spectators, it was forher to act. She stood a moment with all our eyes upon her, stoodstaring breathless and motionless at her brother; then, still lookingat him, with a shivering sigh, she slowly and mechanically lifted herhand, and dropped the ribbon. It fluttered down.

  "Tread upon it!" the Marquis said ruthlessly.

  She trembled; her face, her child's face, grown quite white. But shedid not move.

  "Tread upon it!" he said again.

  And then, without looking down, she moved her foot forward, andtouched the ribbon.