CHAPTER XI
THE DAWN AND THE DUSK
Gradually, so gradually the change could hardly be observed, the innergrating of the window became visible; the chinks between the edges ofthe stones assumed distinctness. A ghostly blotch grew into a factupon the floor. A leaden hue, less black than the pulsing sea of inkabout it, spread and spread, lighter and lighter, until it invaded thedim recesses where I stood. My hand became once more a tangiblepossession, unreal and grim, yet all my own. The opposite wall loomedup, my utmost frontier of the domain of certainty. Dimmer, darker,more obscure, the door, a vast unexplored cavern gathered to itself thehobgoblins of evil and gave them shelter. As still as the creeping onof day we two men stood, glaring at each other and watched it come.
Exactly when I began to see him I could not say. Every impulse andvital force of nature centered in my eyes, and they fastened themselvesupon that one irregular shadow in the opposing corner which slowly--oh!with such agonizing slowness--assumed the outlines of a man. Myfascinated gaze wandered not nor wearied. When in the moist light ofthe morning I clearly saw Broussard, haggard, pale and sunken-eyed,watching me thirty feet away, it seemed that I had seen him all thenight.
No detail of his dress or manner but I observed. There was a scaracross his forehead, fresh and bleeding a bit. A contusion rather. Hehad probably struck the door-facing as he rushed in. Yes, it bled. Afew drops had trickled down his nose; there hung one, quite dry, fromhis brow. Precisely beneath this there were some dozen or so upon thefloor. All could have been covered by my hand. Like myself Broussardhad not moved throughout that awful night. God, how I pitied him.With such a weight of treason on his soul. And yet, looking back, thenight was less awful than the coming day, far more merciful than thehideous night which followed it. With the sun Broussard heartened up,and first broke the silence.
"Who are you comrade, and what do you here?"
I was at a loss for reply. I had no faith in him, yet even a rottenstick might serve to get me out.
"I am trapped like yourself, and feared you all the night. God inHeaven what a long night it was."
Broussard had no words, his convulsive shudder expressed more than mine.
"Do you know how to get out of here?" I asked.
"Not I, except by the door, or the window," looking at that.
"I'll try the door," he continued, smiling the treacherous smile of thetiger. I remembered so well the first day he showed his teeth aboardship. The man well knew I recognized him, he had heard me speak hisname, and I feared if he found the door open he would shut me up again,and escape.
"I'll test the door softly and see what is outside," and he moved as ifto put his thought in action.
"Hold on, not yet; methinks I'll try that door myself." I could see hehad the same idea which had occurred to me, for he demurred.
"No, my fine sir; why you and not I?"
"Because I know you, sir, and fear to trust you."
"Verily, you have honorable intentions yourself to suspect me soreadily." He was bent on engaging me in conversation, so he mightperhaps recognize me from my voice. The mask still hid my features,and the entire difference in my mode of dress made recognition almostimpossible. The puzzled expression of a half recollection still restedon his face as I continued:
"I do not merely suspect you, I know you for a traitor--nay do not clapyour hand upon your sword until I have finished. You have now in yourpossession certain traitorous dispatches which were given you by oneCarne Yvard in exchange for others which you brought over with you in avessel called le Dauphin. Ah, you begin to pale and shrink, and wellyou may--"
"You lie!" he shrieked, convincing me I had made a home thrust.
"Softly, softly, have a care, lest you call the Marshal's bloodhoundsdown upon us. The dispatches with the purple seals, which you broughtwith such care from Biloxi, have been taken from Yvard, and are now insafe keeping for the King. The lie, ah, well, I'll pardon that for thewhile. You can not leave here, and I have ample time for avenging myhonor after I have had the pleasure of your delightful conversation."
He leaned morosely against the wall, staring at me, as I went on.
"Now listen to me quietly. You have those dispatches upon your person.I want them, and by all the gods I will have them. If I have to killyou for them, then so much the worse for you. Now listen. Give methose dispatches. We will then get out of here together, and onceoutside, I will give you full four and twenty hours. That timeelapsed, I will turn the dispatches over to the authorities. If youcan escape with your miserable life so be it. Do you agree?"
"I have no dispatches," he sullenly replied, "and who are you to darecharge me with treason?"
There was no ring of real resentment in his tones, though he strovemanfully to simulate offended and indignant innocence. It wasnecessary to keep him in ignorance for a while, because I feared hemight set upon me, and being really an excellent swordsman, the issueof conflict would be doubtful. But the weightier reason lay in thefact that the clash of steel might draw down upon us the occupants ofthe house. Here I was in a much worse plight than he, though he knewit not. For whether those occupants were the friends of Broussard orthe Marshal's men, the result would be equally fatal to me. A man mustthink quickly under such straits, and I was sorely put to it for somedevice. No stratagem would be too base to use against such a villain,for he would not hesitate to knife me in the back.
"Broussard, let us understand each other here and now. You know me. Iam Placide de Mouret," removing my mask and looking him sternly in theeye.
"Great God, de Mouret!"
"The same. I am your master at the swords, and you know it. Now turnout those papers." I had been quietly drawing my blade during thisspeech, as the dazed man tried to collect his senses, so I was readywhile he still stood unprepared.
"Throw up your hands."
He mechanically obeyed; the discovery of his villainy had completelyunmanned him.
"Now unbuckle your belt, and drop it to the ground." He did as he wasbid.
"Kick it across the floor." The weapon was tossed out of his reach.
I walked up closer to him, and forced him to loose his coat that Imight find the papers, and was rewarded by the discovery of a packet,much similar to that dropped by Yvard. It was sealed in such a mannerit could not be opened, and bore no address. I removed the dagger fromhis hip, and having, as I thought, completely disarmed him, felt nofurther uneasiness. The man was thoroughly cowed, and never onceraised his eyes to mine. Verily treason doth rob the stoutest heart ofhalf its courage.
"Now do as I bid you, and I will keep my promise to let you go. Andmind that you make not the slightest sound which may attract thesoldiers."
"Ah, you fear the soldiers too?" he asked, vaguely trying to puzzle outwhy I should be afraid of those in whose service I was.
"It is not to our purpose to talk. I simply want the credit myself,and do not want to share it with those fellows out there. We must workto leave this place at once. Do you stand where you are."
I gathered up the scattered weapons and piled them all in one corner,farthest from the door, where I now proposed to set about getting free.With the fearful blight of uncovered treason in his soul, Broussardobeyed me cringingly as a servant, and worked as hard, for his safetylay in mine. We went first to the door by which we entered, and aftera tedious examination failed to find any means by which it could beopened or broken down. A stout latch, of some pattern we could nottell, held it fast from the outside. There was no catch or fasteningof any sort within. The age-hardened oak, studded as it was withheavily wrought nails, forbade the plan of cutting through. This wouldrequire days and days of patient labor, and I was already faint fromlack of food and the exhaustion of the night. Plainly the room wasintended for a prison, and as such it served well its purpose. Baffledand disheartened I turned my thought to the window. It looked out uponthe street; this was so much in my favor. The irons that guarded i
twere close set, bending out toward the street in the shape of a bow. Ijudged this was in order that archers stationed there might shoot themore easily into the street in times of siege.
I could have reached this without trouble, but I desired to employBroussard, that I might know where he was and prevent treachery. Forthat double purpose I reached up and grasped the sill, commanding himto catch me about the knees and lift so I might see out. This he did.While in that position he made a pretense of shifting his hold, andsomething impelled me to glance downward at him. He was stealthilydrawing a concealed knife from his bosom. I threw all my weight backupon him, casting the twain of us together to the floor. Meantime hehad the knife full drawn, in his left hand held at my breast.
I grappled with him, holding his left hand in my right, and with thefree hand clutched him by the throat, burying my thumb deep in hiswind-pipe. Instinctively he raised both hands to protect his throat,and then we struggled to our feet. He made futile efforts to strike mewith the knife, but his strength deserted him with his wind. The bladedropped clattering on the floor. My other hand closed about his neck,circling it with an unyielding collar of steel. Desperately as a cagedrat might fight he squirmed and twisted in my grasp. To no avail.
Tigerish now, as though I held a rabid dog, I thrust him back againstthe wall, and there rigidly held him fast. In merciless silence Ilistened to the precious breath gurgling from his body; a reddish frothgathered at the lips. I could feel his hot blood surge and beatagainst my thumb under that deadly pressure. The cold sweat stood inclammy clusters upon his forehead; his head thrown back, the eyesturned toward the ceiling no longer pleaded into mine. I sickenedalmost at sight of the tongue swelling black, which seemed to consumeall the fleeing color from lips and face. Oh God, how he struggled!His hands closed over mine as bars of steel to tear them from histhroat.
Even in our mortal strife I marked the eternal harmony of the scene.Truly death had never stage more fitting whereon to play its last sterndrama of dissolution. Hemmed in by four massive walls of granite,ghastly grim and desolately gray, we wrestled in a stifling stillness,while hell stood umpire at the game. No sound of trumpet, no warlikecry, no strains of martial music were there to thrill the nerves andtaunt men on to glory. We fought to the scrape and scratch ofshuffling feet, the labored gasp, the rattle in the throat, while echohushed in silence and in fright.
He grew more quiet, his muscles stiffened and relaxed--he was no longerconscious. A few more convulsive quivers, as a serpent might writheand jerk, then he hung, a limp dead thing, in my hands. Myoutstretched arms seemed made as a gibbet, feeling no fatigue, solightly did they sustain him. Cords of brass could be no more tensethan mine; his weight was as nothing. Softly I eased him down, andcomposed his limbs in decent order upon the stones.
Then I rose, and gazed complacently at my work. Yes, it _was_ welldone, excellently done, in fact. The most expert strangler of theChoctows could have done no better. Those purpling lines about thethroat, those darker clots where my thumbs had left their signs, couldnot have been more intelligently placed. I smiled my satisfaction atthe job, then--then--my own overstrung nerves gave way, and I fellunconscious across the corpse of my hands' creation.
When I came to myself I was weeping, weeping as a child might weep,over the dead, distorted face of him I had loved. How long this lastedI had no means of knowing. Uncompromising necessity forced me toaction; forbade me time to dream.
The body being in my way where it lay--for I proposed now to work inearnest at the window--I moved it tenderly as possible across the floorand stretched him out near the door sill. Springing up then I attackedthe bars at the window. Hours and hours I labored, impelled to greatereffort by the dread of spending another night in that room of murder.I was patient, too, patient with the cunning of a maniac.
The dagger made my chisel; my sword, wrapped in a cloth to muffle thestrokes, furnished me a maul. Full half the day was before me. Therough paving stones below held out the hope of escape or death. How toreach the street after the bars were removed, I did not suffer myselfto consider. I should go mad if I lay idle. I leaned as far out thewindow as the grating would allow, and observed a guard standing inplain view at the corner. It was very evident the Provost of Paris hadtaken possession of the house, and there was little use in my trying tomake a way out the door.
I bitterly resented the intrusion of every passenger along the street,and scanned with hatred the few who came. For while they remained inhearing I was obliged to cease my chipping at the masonry and leadencement which held my freedom. I bided my time, and, long before theshadow of the house across the way had climbed to the window where Iworked, had the gratification of finding a bar give way in my hands,and found I could take it out. Removing this bar, it gave me apowerful leverage on the others, and by exerting all my strength,succeeded in bending the two on either side to such a degree I couldforce my body between.
While thus engaged, my eyes were ever fixed anxiously upon the street,in the hope that Jerome might pursue his plan of watching the house,and I would catch sight of him. The passers-by were few indeed, butsomehow it struck me that the same persons passed several times, and insomething like regular order. A patrol of Jerome's? My heart boundedat the thought. I watched more carefully; yes, it was true. I countedfive different persons; some walked fast, some walked slow, but alllooked about them and inspected the house with more than an ordinaryglance. And, no, I was not mistaken, that simple-looking countrymanyonder was Jerome.
I was quite at a loss how to attract his attention; I feared to yell,lest that give notice to the sentry. I took a spur from my heel anddropped it directly in front of him; I knew he would recognize it, forit was his own, loaned to me for my more fashionable appearance. Heheard the jingle and glanced around. His hat blew off as if byaccident and fell near the spur. In stooping to pick it up, the spuralso found its way into his hand beneath the hat. He was truly aquick-witted gentleman, and I forgave him from my heart all his chaffin the matter of teaching me manners. It took him not a great while tocomprehend, and taking note of the situation of my window, he saunteredoff. Thence forward only three men passed by the house, at much longerintervals. He had taken one with him, and I was left to surmise inwhat method they purposed to effect my deliverance. I made myselfalmost merry. The long labor at the window had cramped my limbs tosuch a degree it pained me to move. I clambered down and took a fewturns about the room as if I had naught to do but exercise. But atevery turn the hideous face and whitened eyes of Broussard dogged myfootsteps as a spectre. Look where I would, it was only that I saw.Hour after hour crawled by. Jerome would wait for night. Night!
Did he but know what lurking horrors filled the dismal hours for me, hewould come soon. By some fatality I had drawn the body directly to thespot where the last fading shafts of light would hover about its face.Not for a paradise of peace would I touch the loathsome thing again tohide it in the shadows. I could neither take my eyes from it nor putmy hands upon it. Like the basilisk of fable it held my gaze charmed,fixed it, bound it fast. Crouch as I might in the remotest corner,cover my face in my mantle, still that searching, penetrating thingpierced all obstacles, glared grisly and distinct before me.
I tried to throw off the thought which now constantly recurred. Whatif Jerome did not come? Would I starve here in company with thiscorrupting flesh? No, there was the window; a headlong dash from thatwould bring death and release. So I determined. Then came on thenight. To me it brought no rest, no sweet surcease of the laborsthrough the day.
Somewhere, afar off in the city, there rang a tremulous bell, launchingits vibrations upon the infinite silence as a sinner's guilty soulmight trembling stand in the presence of Almighty condemnation. Themelancholy howl of a dog at first cleft through every nerve and fibreof my being, thrilling with a creeping chill of horror. So regular didit come, so unvaried, I grew to count the seconds under my breath, andto note its monotonous precision
. Somehow this occupation in a measurerelieved me, and when the howls came more infrequently and at less welldefined intervals, I mentally resented the change. Time had ceased tobe. I cowered in the corner with naught but death and fear anddarkness to keep me company.