The Red Cockade

  CHAPTER XVI.

  THREE IN A CARRIAGE.

  "Of course, if Madame--if Madame knows nothing of the monk," he said,looking vacantly about the dirty room, "it is clear that--it seemsclear that there has been a mistake."

  "And only one thing remains to be done," I suggested.

  "But--but," he continued, with a resumption of his former importance,"there is still one point unexplained--that of the red cockade,Monsieur? What of that, M. le Vicomte?"

  "The red cockade?" I said.

  "Ay, what of that?" he asked briskly.

  I had not expected this, and I looked desperately at Madame. Surelyher woman's wit would find a way, whatever the cockade meant. "Haveyou asked Madame Correas?" I said at last, feebly shifting the burden."Have you asked her to explain it?"

  "No," he answered.

  "Then I would ask her," I said.

  "Nay, do not ask me; ask M. le Vicomte," she answered lightly. "Askhim of what colour are the facings of the National Guards of Quercy?"

  "Red!" I cried, in a burst of relief. "Red!" I knew, for had I notseen Buton's coat lying by the forge? But how Madame de St. Alais knewI have no idea.

  "Ah!" M. Flandre said, with the air of one still a little doubtful."And Madame wears the cockade for that reason?"

  "No, M. le Maire," she answered, with a roguish smile; I saw that itwas her plan to humour him. "I do not--my daughter does. If you wishto ask further, or the reason, you must ask her."

  M. Flandre had the curiosity of the true bourgeois, and the love ofthe sex. He simpered. "If Mademoiselle would be so good," he said.

  Denise had remained up to this point hidden behind her mother, but atthe word she crept out, and reluctantly and like a prisoner brought tothe bar, stood before us. It was only when she spoke, however, nay, itwas not until she had spoken some words that I understood the fullchange that I saw in her; or why, instead of the picture of pallidweariness which she had presented a few minutes before, she nowshowed, as she stood forward, a face covered with blushes, and eyesshining and suffused.

  "It is simple, Monsieur," she said in a low voice. "My _fiance_, M. leMaire, is in that regiment."

  "And you wear it for that reason?" the Mayor cried, delighted.

  "I love him," she said softly. And for a moment--for a moment her eyesmet mine.

  Then I know not which was the redder, she or I; or which found thatvile and filthy room more like a palace, its tobacco-laden air moresweet! I had not dreamed what she was going to say, least of all had Idreamed what her eyes said, as for that instant they met mine andturned my blood to fire! I lost the Mayor's blunt answer and hischuckling laugh; and only returned to a sense of the present whenMademoiselle slipped back to hide her burning face behind her mother,and I saw in her place Madame, facing me, with her finger to her lip,and a glance of warning in her eyes.

  It was a warning not superfluous, for in the flush of my firstenthusiasm I might have said anything. And the Mayor was in betterhands than mine. The little touch of romance and sentiment whichMademoiselle's avowal had imported into the matter, had removed hislast suspicion and won his heart. He ogled Madame, he beamed on thegirl with fatherly gallantry. He made a jest of the monk.

  "A mistake, and yet one I cannot deplore, Madame," he protested, withclumsy civility. "For it has given me the pleasure of seeing you."

  "Oh, M. le Maire!" Madame simpered.

  "But the state of the country is really such," he continued, "thatfor the beautiful sex to be travelling alone is not safe. It exposesthem----"

  "To worse _rencontres_ than this, I fear," Madame said, darting a lookfrom her fine eyes. "If this were the worst we poor women had tofear!" And she looked at him again.

  "Ah, Madame!" he said, delighted.

  "But, alas, we have no escort."

  The fat Mayor sighed, I think that he was going to offer himself. Thena thought struck him. "Perhaps this gentleman," and he turned to me."You go to Nimes, M. le Vicomte?"

  "Yes," I said. "And, of course, if Madame Correas----"

  "Oh, it would be troubling M. le Vicomte," Madame said; and she went astep farther from me and a step nearer to M. Flandre, as if he mustunderstand her hesitation.

  "I am sure it could be no trouble to any one!" he answered stoutly."But for the matter of that, if M. le Vicomte perceives anydifficulty," and he laid his hand on his heart, "I will find someone----"

  "Some one?" Madame said archly.

  "Myself," the Mayor answered.

  "Ah!" she cried, "if you----"

  But I thought that now I might safely step in. "No, no," I said. "M.le Maire is taking all against me. I can assure you, Madame, I shallbe glad to be of service to you. And our roads lie together. If,therefore----"

  "I shall be grateful," Madame answered with a delightful littlecourtesy. "That is, if M. le Maire will let out his poor prisoners.Who, as he now knows, have done nothing worse than sympathise withNational Guards."

  "I will take it on myself, Madame," M. Flandre said, with vastimportance. He had been brought to the desired point. "The case isquite clear. But----" he paused and coughed slightly, "to avoidcomplications, you had better leave early. When you are gone, I shallknow what explanations to give. And if you would not object tospending the night here," he continued, looking round him, with atouch of sheepishness, "I think that----"

  "We shall mind it less than before," Madame said, with a look and asigh. "I feel safe since you have been to see us." And she held out ahand that was still white and plump.

  The Mayor kissed it.

  * * * * *

  As I walked, a few minutes later, across the square, picking my stepsby the yellow light of M. Flandre's lantern, and at times enveloped inthe flying skirt of his cloak--for the good man had his own visionsand for a hundred yards together forgot his company--I could havethought all that had passed a dream; so unreal seemed the squalidprison-lodging I had just left, so marvellous the ladies' presence init, so incredible Mademoiselle's blushing avowal made to my face. Buta wheezing clock overhead struck the hour before midnight, and Icounted the strokes; a watchman, not far from me, cried, after the oldfashion, that it was eleven o'clock and a fine night; and I stumbledover a stone. No, I was not dreaming.

  But if I had to stumble then, to persuade myself that I was awake, howwas it with me next morning, when, with the first glimmer of light, Iwalked beside the carriage from the inn to the prison, and saw, beforeI reached the gloomy door, Madame and Mademoiselle standing shiveringunder the wall beside it? How was it with me when I heldMademoiselle's hand in mine, as I helped her in, and then followed herin and sat opposite to her--sat opposite to her with the knowledgethat I was so to sit for days, that I was to be her fellow-traveller,that we were to go to Nimes together?

  Ah, how was it, indeed? But there is nothing quite perfect; there isno hour in which a man says that he is quite happy; and a shadow offear and stealth darkened my bliss that morning. The Mayor was thereto see us start, and I fancy that it was his face of apprehension thatlay at the bottom of this feeling. A moment, however, and the face wasgone from the window; another, and the carriage began to roll quicklythrough the dim streets, while we lay back, each in a corner, hiddenby the darkness even from one another. Still, we had the gates topass, and the guard; or the watch might stop us, or some early-risingtownsman, or any one of a hundred accidents. My heart beat fast.

  But all went well. Within five minutes we had passed the gates andleft them behind us, and were rolling in safety along the road. Thedawn was no more than grey, the trees showed black against the sky, aswe crossed the Tarn by the great bridge, and began to climb the valleyof the Dourbie.

  I have said that we could not see one another. But on a sudden Madamelaughed out of the darkness of her corner. "O Richard, O _mon Roi!_"she hummed. Then "The fat fool!" she cried; and she laughed again.

  I thought her cruel, and almost an ingrate; but she was Mademoiselle'smo
ther, and I said nothing. Mademoiselle was opposite to me, and I washappy. I was happy, thinking what she would say to me, and how shewould look at me, when the day came and she could no longer escape myeyes; when the day came and the dainty, half-shrouded face thatalready began to glimmer in the roomy corner of the old berlin shouldbe mine to look on, to feast my eyes on, to question and read throughlong days and hours of a journey, a journey through heaven!

  Already it was growing light; I had but a little longer to wait. Arosy flush began to tinge one half the sky; the other half, pale blueand flecked with golden clouds, lay behind us. A few seconds, and themountain tips caught the first rays of the sun, and floated far overus, in golden ether. I cast one greedy glance at Mademoiselle's face,saw there the dawn out-blushed, I met for one second her eyes and sawthe glory of the ether outshone--and then I looked away, trembling. Itseemed sacrilege to look longer.

  Suddenly Madame laughed again, out of her corner; a laugh that made mewince, and grow hot. "She is not made for a nun, M. le Vicomte, isshe?" she said.

  I bounced in my seat. The speaker's tone, gay, insulting, flicked, notme, but the girl, like a whip.

  "You really, Denise, must have had practice," Madame continuedsmoothly. "I love, you love, we love--you are quite perfect. Did youpractise with M. le Directeur? Or with the big boys over the wall?"

  "Madame!" I cried. The girl had drawn her hood over her face, but Icould fancy her shame.

  But Madame was inexorable. "Really, Denise, I do not know that Iever told even your father 'I love you,'" she said. "At any rate,until he had kissed me on the lips. But I suppose that you reverse theorder----"

  "Madame," I stammered. "This is infamous!"

  "What, Monsieur?" she answered, this time heeding me. "May I notpunish my daughter in my own way?"

  "Not before me," I retorted, full of wrath. "It is cruel! It is----"

  "Oh, before you, M. le Vicomte?" Madame answered, mocking me. "And whynot before you? I cannot degrade her lower than she has herselfstooped!"

  "It is false!" I cried, in hot rage. "It is a cruel falsehood!"

  "Oh, I can? Then if I please, I shall!" Madame answered, with ruthlesspleasantry. "And you, Monsieur, will sit by and listen, if I please.Though, make no mistake, M. le Vicomte," she continued, leaningforward, and gazing keenly into my face. "Because I punish her beforeyou, do not think that you are, or ever shall be, of the family. Orthat this unmaidenly, immodest----"

  Mademoiselle uttered a cry of pain, and shrank lower in her corner.

  "Little fool," Madame continued coolly, "who, when she was primed witha cock-and-bull story about the cockade, must needs add, 'I lovehim'--I love him, and she a maiden!--will ever be anything to you! Thatlink was broken long ago. It was broken when your friends burned ourhouse at St. Alais; it was broken when they sacked our house inCahors; it was broken when they made our king a prisoner, when theymurdered our friends, when they dragged our Church a slave at thechariot wheels of their triumph; ay, and broken once for all, beyondmending by mock heroics! Understand that fully, M. le Vicomte," Madamecontinued pitilessly. "But as you saw her stoop, you shall see herpunished. She is the first St. Alais that ever wooed a lover!"

  I knew that of the family which would have given the lie to thatstatement; but it was not a tale for Mademoiselle's ears, and insteadI rose. "At least, Madame," I said, bowing, "I can free Mademoisellefrom the embarrassment of my presence. And I shall do so."

  "No, you will not do even that," Madame answered unmoved. "If you willsit down, I will tell you why."

  I sat down, compelled by her tone.

  "You will not do it," Madame continued, looking me coolly in the face,"because I am bound to admit, though I no longer like you, that youare a gentleman."

  "And therefore should leave you."

  "On the contrary, for that reason you will continue to travel withus."

  "Outside," I said.

  "No, inside," she answered quietly. "We have no passport nor papers;without your company we should be stopped in each town through whichwe pass. It is unfortunate," Madame continued, shrugging hershoulders; "--I did not know that the country was in so bad a state,or I would have taken precautions--it is unfortunate. But as it is wemust put up with it and travel together."

  I felt a warm rush of joy, of triumph, of coming vengeance. "Thankyou, Madame," I said, and I bowed to her, "for telling me that. Itseems, then, that you are in my power."

  "Ah?"

  "And that to requite you for the pain you have just causedMademoiselle, I have only to leave you."

  "Well?"

  "I see even now a little town before us; in three minutes we shallenter it. Very well, Madame. If you say another word to your daughter,if you insult her again in my presence by so much as a syllable, Ileave you and go my way."

  To my surprise Madame St. Alais broke into a silvery laugh. "You willnot, Monsieur," she said. "And yet I shall treat my daughter as Iplease."

  "I shall do so!"

  "You will not."

  "Why, then? Why shall I not?" I cried.

  "Because," she answered, laughing softly, "you are a gentleman, M. leVicomte, and can neither leave us nor endanger us. That is all."

  I sank back in my seat, and glared at her in speechless indignation;seeing in a flash my impotence and her power. The cushions burned me;but I could not leave them.

  She laughed again, well pleased. "There, I have told you what you willnot do," she said. "Now I am going to tell you what you will do. Infront, I am told, they are very suspicious. The story of MadameCorvas, even if backed by your word, may not suffice. You will say,therefore, that I am your mother, and that Mademoiselle is yoursister. She would prefer, I daresay," Madame continued, with a cuttingglance at her daughter, "to pass for your wife. But that does not suitme."

  I breathed hard; but I was helpless as any prisoner, closely bound toobedience as any slave. I could not denounce them, and I could notleave them; honour and love were alike concerned. Yet I foresaw that Imust listen, hour by hour, and mile by mile, to gibes at the girl'sexpense, to sneers at her modesty, to words that cut like whip-lashes.That was Madame's plan. The girl must travel with me, must breathe thesame air with me, must sit for hours with the hem of her skirttouching my boot. It was necessary for the safety of all. But, afterthis, after what we had both heard, if her eye met mine, it could onlyfall; if her hand touched mine, she must shrink in shame. Henceforththere was a barrier between us.

  As a fact, Mademoiselle's pride came to her aid, and she sat, neitherweeping nor protesting, nor seeking to join her forces to mine by aglance; but bearing all with steadfast patience, she looked out of thewindow when I pretended to sleep, and looked towards her mother when Isat erect. Possibly she found her compensations, and bore herpunishment quietly for their sake. But I did not think of that.Possibly, too, she suffered less than I fancied; but I doubt if shewould admit that, even to-day.

  At any rate she had heard me fight her battle; yet she did not speakto me nor I to her; and under these strange conditions we began andpursued the strangest journey man ever made. We drove through pleasantvalleys growing green, over sterile passes, where winter still fringedthe rocks with snow, through sunshine, and in the teeth of coldmountain winds; but we scarcely heeded any of these things. Our heartsand thoughts lay inside the carriage, where Madame sat smiling, and wetwo kept grim silence.

  About noon we halted to rest and eat at a little village inn, high up.It seemed to me a place almost at the end of the world, with a chaosof mountains rising tier on tier above it, and slopes of shale below.But the frenzy of the time had reached even this barren nook. Beforewe had taken two mouthfuls, the Syndic called to see our papers;and--God knows I had no choice--Madame passed for my mother, andDenise for my sister. Then, while the Syndic still stood bowing overmy commission, and striving to learn from me what news there wasbelow, a horse halted at the door, and I heard a man's voice, and in abreath M. le Baron de Geol walked in. There was a single decent roomin the inn--that in
which we sat--and he came into it.

  He uncovered, seeing ladies; and recognising me with a start smiled,but a trifle sourly. "You set off early?" he said. "I waited at theeast gate, but you did not come, Monsieur."

  I coloured, conscience-stricken, and begged a thousand pardons. As afact, I had clean forgotten him. I had not once thought of theappointment I had made with him at the gate.

  "You are not riding?" he said, looking at my companions a littlestrangely.

  "No," I answered. And I could not find another word to say. The Syndicstill stood smiling and bowing beside me; and on a sudden I saw thepit on the edge of which I tottered; and my face burned.

  "You have met friends?" M. le Baron persisted, looking, hat in hand,at Madame.

  "Yes," I muttered. Politeness required that I should introduce him.But I dared not.

  However, at that, he at last took the hint; and retired with theSyndic. The moment they were over the threshold Madame flashed out atme, in a passion of anger. "Fool!" she said, without ceremony, "whydid you not present him? Don't you know that that is the way to arousesuspicion, and ruin us? A child could see that you had something tohide. If you had presented him at once to your mother----"

  "Yes, Madame?"

  "He would have gone away satisfied."

  "I doubt it, Madame, and for a very good reason," I answeredcynically. "Seeing that yesterday I told him, with the utmostparticularity, that I had neither mother nor sister."

  That afforded me a little revenge. Madame St. Alais went white and redin the same instant, and sat a moment with her lips pressed together,and her eyes on the table. "Who is he? What do you know of him?" shesaid at last.

  "He is a poor gentleman and a bigoted Protestant," I answered drily.

  She bit her lip. "_Bon Dieu!_" she muttered. "Who could have foreseensuch an accident? Do you think that he suspects anything?"

  "Doubtless. To begin, I left early this morning, in breach of anagreement to travel with him. When he learns, in addition, that I amtravelling with my mother and sister, whom yesterday I did notpossess----"

  Madame looked at me, as if she would strike me. "What will you do?"she cried.

  "It is for my mother to say," I answered politely. And I helped myselfvery indifferently to cheese. "She dictated this policy."

  She was white with rage, and perhaps alarm; I chuckled secretly,seeing her condition. But rage availed her little; she had to humbleherself. "What do you advise?" she said at last.

  "There is only one course open," I answered. "We must brazen it out."

  She agreed. But this, though a very easy course to advise, was oneanything but easy to pursue. I discovered that, a few minutes later,when I went out to see if the carriage was ready, and found De Geol inthe doorway with a face as hard as his own hills. "You are starting?"he said.

  I muttered that I was.

  "I find that I have to congratulate you," he continued, with a smileof unpleasant meaning.

  "On what, Monsieur?"

  "On finding your family," he answered, looking at me with a bittersort of humour. "To discover both a mother and a sister in twenty-fourhours must be great happiness. But--may I give you a hint, M. leVicomte?"

  "If you please," I said, with desperate coolness.

  "Then if--being so happy in making discoveries--you happen to lightnext on M. Froment--on M. Froment, the firebrand of Nimes, falseCapuchin, and false traitor!--do not adopt him also! That is all."

  "I am not acquainted with him," I said coldly. He had spoken withpassion and fire.

  "Do not become so," he answered.

  I shrugged my shoulders, and he said no more; and in a moment Madameand Mademoiselle came out, and took their seats, and I set out to walkup the hill beside the horses.

  The ascent was steep and long and toilsome, and a dozen times as weclimbed out of the valley we had to halt to breathe the cattle; adozen times I looked back at the grey mountain inn lying on thedesolate grey plateau at our feet. Always I found the Baron looking upat us, stern and gaunt and motionless as the house before which hestood. And I shivered.