Vayenne

  CHAPTER V

  THE SCHOLAR

  The village of Passey, nestling in the shadow of its chateau, lookedsecure, had indeed been well protected in past times, but to-daylittle real resistance could have been offered to a determined enemy.The outer wall of the chateau had crumbled and fallen in pieces, novigilant eyes kept ward and watch from its battlements, and theserving-men in its old guard-rooms and courts were not of the kind outof which stout soldiers are made. It had been in the hands of theDupres for three centuries or more, given originally to an ancestor inreturn for good service, for the family had bred many a gallantwarrior in the past; but in recent years misfortune and poverty hadcome, and the Dupres were too proud to make petitions in the Castle ofVayenne. Nothing is easier to forget than past service if there is nopresent need of favors, and the Dukes of Montvilliers had practicallyforgotten their once powerful subject of Passey. More and more thefamily had lived a retired life, and the last two heads of it had beenconfirmed invalids. The present owner was a man of weak physique also,barred from a life in the open and all manly sports. Thrown in uponhimself he had found consolation in books and in study, and had littlecare how the world went so it left him in peace. The late Duke, a manof warlike character and iron will, had thoroughly despised the oldman at Passey, and when his son evinced a love for dreaming overbooks, his father sent him to Viscount Dupre. The chateau would serveas a convenient place of isolation, the Duke argued, and the old foolmight well be made useful as a jailer to the young one.

  "I hold you responsible for him," the Duke had said to Dupre. "Teachhim to hate the books you love and I will find means to thank you; lethim become such a one as yourself, and rest assured the reins ofgovernment will never fall into his hands when they drop from mine.The good of Montvilliers is far more to me than any son."

  The Duke rode away, hoping perhaps that banishment from Vayenne wouldcure his son, but the lad had been at Passey ever since. How far theold Viscount attempted to turn the boy from his studies, who can say?The fact remained that he did not succeed, and Maurice de Broux--now ayouth of eighteen--had found peace and contentment in the crumblingold chateau and was as little concerned about the world as old Duprehimself.

  To-day the quiet life had suddenly been broken in upon. With earlydawn a company of horsemen, a woman riding in their midst, hadclattered through the village street and in at the chateau gates. "TheDuke is dead," one serving-man presently told another, and the newsspread rapidly through the village, and out into the fields beyond,where bent-backed men and women hoed. One old man there looked towardthe chateau, and pulling off a ragged cap cried feebly, "Long live theDuke!"

  In a room in the chateau, a room of books and students' comforts, sucha room as could not have been found in the length and breadth of theCastle of Vayenne, Maurice and Mademoiselle de Liancourt had beencloseted for hours. There was no more important person in Montvilliersthat day than the pale scholar of Passey, yet there was no excitementin his face. That he should mourn for a father who had been littlemore than a stranger to him was hardly to be expected. From time totime he moved restlessly about the room, letting his companion talk,and now and again her words brought a flush to his cheek. To no onewould he have listened as quietly as he did to her, for, scholarthough he was by nature, he had yet something of his father in him, atemper that might burst into fury were it pressed too far. No one knewthis better than Christine de Liancourt, and if any words of herswould sting him into action she would certainly speak them. For thisvery purpose had she come in haste to Passey. In old days she hadoften stood between Maurice and his father's wrath. She had prophesiedthat when the hour came Maurice would rise to the occasion and make awise ruler. He was, besides, the heir, nothing could alter that, andjustice, coupled with her half-formed fear of Count Felix, drove herto espouse the young Duke's cause with all the strength that was inher.

  "My dear Christine, you easily get angry with me," he said presently."Try and see the whole matter through my eyes. I am eighteen, and Ihave never done a single thing to fit myself for ruling Montvilliers;more shame to me, you may say, but we are not all born with a desireto rule. Ever since I came to Passey I have practically been aprisoner--a happy prisoner. I have easily forgotten how near I stoodto a dukedom, and, I warrant, have been as easily forgotten. Whyremember me now when I only desire to be left in peace? Believe me, asa duke I should be an utter failure, a breeder of dissension andrevolution, no blessing to the land, but a curse. Let the power fallas my father wished it. Cousin Felix will make a much better duke thanI."

  "Have you no sense of duty?" she asked.

  "Truly I think my duty to Montvilliers is to let some one else ruleit," he said, with a smile.

  "Duty is not a cloak a man can put off and on as he wills," Christineanswered; "it is part of the man himself. He is called to fulfilcertain conditions of his life, of his birth, and he cannot throw dutyaside by saying he is unfitted to perform it. Are you a coward,Maurice, as well as a scholar?"

  "No; I do not think I am a coward."

  "It is only a coward who would not ride to Vayenne and claim hisbirthright."

  "If we come to such close argument as that, this same birthright maybe found to have little justice in it," he said quickly. "Did myfather become Duke by right of birth? You know he didn't. He was astrong man, while those who should have ruled were weak. Montvillierswanted a strong hand to guide her, and a bloodless revolution raisedmy father to power."

  "Has Felix any greater right than you?" she asked.

  "By birth, no; by capacity, yes. Let him be Duke. I will be the firstto shout for him."

  "Coward!" she said.

  "Christine, there are bounds which even you must not pass," he said,turning a stern face to her.

  She clapped her hands at his sudden anger, and stepped quickly to hisside.

  "There spoke a worthy Duke. I have seen the same anger rush blood-redinto your father's face, and have trembled for his enemies. You cannothide your real self; you cannot deny your real personality, eventhough you would."

  "It lies in peace among these books of mine," he answered. "We havetalked of this enough."

  "Not yet. Listen, Maurice. Felix is hated by many, and if he seizesthe crown, there will be bloodshed in the streets of Vayenne."

  "He will be strong enough to suppress rebellion," was the answer.

  "And wise enough perchance to shed blood in this peaceful Chateau ofPassey," she went on quickly.

  "Why here? Passey does not trouble itself with politics. The harvestof the fields is Passey's concern, and it is of small consequence whorules in Vayenne."

  Christine laid her hand on his arm. "Think you the golden circle ofsovereignty will rest easily on your cousin's brow while you live?Deny your birthright, Maurice, and then, like a coward, flee yourcountry for safety, for I warrant you will die a violent death if youstay in it."

  "I cannot think so--so much evil of Felix," he answered.

  "I know him far better than you possibly can do," she said. "He let mecome to you only because he is convinced that you will not come toVayenne. He despises you, Maurice. He will use your refusal for hisown purposes, and in his own manner. He will easily convince many thatyou are a danger to the state and that there is righteousness injudicial murder."

  "Will not a kingdom satisfy him, but he must have my poor life aswell?" Maurice muttered.

  "Has it ever satisfied, in any age, in any history? Felix will seek tomake himself secure in every possible way. Since there are many wholove me, he wishes to wed me."

  "Perhaps he loves you?"

  "It may be," she answered, "but not as he loves himself."

  "And you would marry him?"

  "For the good of Montvilliers I might be persuaded."

  She watched him as he walked slowly across the room. Perhaps there wasa vague, half-formed desire in his heart that she should not marry hiscousin. She would be less his friend if she were Felix's wife.

  "Perhaps such a marriage might be good for Mo
ntvilliers," he saidafter a pause.

  "I shall serve my country more directly by persuading you to do yourduty, Maurice," she answered. "It is not only internal strife which isto be feared, but danger from without. In the past Montvilliers hasfought for, and maintained, her independence, but our neighbors havenot ceased to long for the possession of our fruitful soil, and ourdissensions are their opportunity. Only last night a spy was caught inthe streets and brought to the castle."

  Maurice went to the window, and for some time stood looking down atthe peaceful village he had loved so well. Here he had found happinessand the life he longed for. But beyond were the fruitful fields andgreen pastures of his native land, dearer to him than any other land,though he had no desire to rule it. Did it not rest with him to savethis land from the enemies who had so long sought to lay a conqueringhand upon it? Immediately below him, lounging in the courtyard, weresome of the soldiers of Christine de Liancourt's escort, proof thatthere were men armed and ready to fight for their freedom as theirfathers had done. Duty seemed to present itself with a new meaning toMaurice, and, as though Heaven itself would send him a messenger inthis crisis of his life, just then a cassocked and hooded priest cameslowly in at the gates.

  "At least we will see what plots exist," he said presently, turning toChristine, "and also prove your cousin Felix. To-morrow I will ridewith you to Vayenne. Leave me alone until then. A man does not breakwith so peaceful a life as mine has been without sorrow."

  In an instant her manner changed. Stepping back she made a lowcurtsey. "Long live the Duke," she said quietly, and then left theroom quickly.

  She had conquered. He had promised to come to Vayenne. She could nottell which particular argument had forced him to this decision, sheonly knew that it had been far more difficult to persuade him thaneven she had expected. What would his answer have been had she toldhim that the fact of going to Vayenne was only one step towardsuccess, and only a small one--if she had explained that he spoke nomore than the truth when he had said that he had been forgotten?Vayenne was not going to open her arms and shout a welcome to himuntil he had proved himself a man. She was thrusting upon him a greattask, would he be able to perform it? She could have wished himdifferent to what he was, but at least right was his, and oppositionmight stir him to great things. Of herself she thought little. ForFelix she had little love, yet, were it for the good of her country,she would marry him. She was ready to make any sacrifice for the landshe loved.

  At the foot of the stairs a soldier saluted, and said that a priestcraved an audience with her.

  "What should he want with me?"

  "He would say no more than that he had a message of importance. He isnot of Passey, and carries the dust of a long journey upon him."

  "I will see him. Bring him to the small room yonder, and see that weare not disturbed."

  Christine turned from the window as the priest entered. Much dust wasupon his cassock and cloak, and the hood, which he did not remove,partially concealed his face.

  "You have travelled far," she said.

  "From Vayenne," he answered.

  "From Father Bertrand?"

  "No, mademoiselle; from one far humbler than Father Bertrand, yet onewho is wiser, perhaps, in your interests."

  "He chooses a strange messenger."

  "No stranger surely than the messenger chosen to ride to Passey andbid the young Duke to Vayenne. Besides, a priest may enter where asoldier would be refused. These are perilous times, mademoiselle, andI come to tell you so."

  "In this matter you can tell me little I do not know," she answered.

  "Then you do not ride to Vayenne to-morrow?"

  "Yes--with the Duke." And she watched the priest closely to see if hewere astonished at this information.

  "With the same escort as came with you to Passey?"

  "I think I have sufficiently answered you," she said.

  "Mademoiselle, I have travelled all night to serve you. You must notride to Vayenne to-morrow. It has been arranged that your party is tobe attacked by a strongly armed party of robbers, and defeated. Yoursoldiers will make a show of fight, but for the most part they arebought men. You will escape, there is no desire to hurt you, but theDuke will be slain."

  "You shall tell this to the captain of our escort."

  "One moment, mademoiselle," he said as she moved to the door.

  "Ah! you are afraid to let the captain and his men hear your story,"she said contemptuously.

  "They would probably kill me, and that would hardly help you,"answered the priest quietly. "Count Felix has determined that theyoung Duke shall not enter Vayenne. I had the story from one who iswell known to you, mademoiselle--from Jean, the dwarf of St. Etienne."

  "A fitting story from such a madman," she laughed. "How came he topersuade a priest to be his ambassador?"

  "I am not a priest." And Herrick threw back the hood from his head.

  Christine took one step toward him, and gazed into his face.

  "The spy!" she said.

  "Mademoiselle, do I look like a spy? Do I act like one? Last night Iwas locked in the South Tower, a place of ill omen, as you know. To behis messenger the dwarf released me by a way known to him alone. Ihave ridden hard all night to bring this warning to you. All roadswere open to me; I need not have taken that to Passey were I notdesirous of serving you."

  "You shall tell this story to the captain," she answered. "It is forhim to weigh its merit."

  "As you will, mademoiselle. Heaven grant he is an honest man."

  She went to the door, and, calling a servant, bid him fetch thecaptain of the escort; nor did she speak to Herrick until the captainentered the room.

  "Do you know this man, Captain Lemasle?" she asked.

  _"The Spy!" she said._]

  Gaspard Lemasle was not a very observant man, and the priest's dressdeceived him.

  "No, mademoiselle," he answered.

  "He comes to Passey with a strange story."

  "I have no great love for priests," returned the captain, "and savingyour presence, mademoiselle, have often known them to tell strangestories."

  In as few words as possible, Herrick repeated his tale.

  "Do you say that I and the men I command are traitors?" Lemasle burstout angrily when Herrick had finished.

  "I say nothing against Captain Lemasle," said Herrick. "Not many hourssince he toasted Mademoiselle de Liancourt with such enthusiasm at theCroix Verte, I could not believe him anything but an honest man."

  "You are no priest, and there is something in your voice that Iremember."

  "No, I am not a priest; you took me for a spy last night."

  "I thought you safely caged in the South Tower."

  "I was, captain. I am here to try and save the Duke."

  "But how could you escape?" said Lemasle in astonishment.

  "That I can tell you at another time."

  Lemasle was silent for a few moments.

  "It is indeed a strange story, mademoiselle," he said presently, "andtruth to tell there are some in our company who would not be in it hadI had the choosing."

  "If there is any worth in the story, you must judge," Christine said."For myself, I do not believe such tales easily, and at all hazards weride to Vayenne to-morrow. It might be well to take this man with us.Unless he can prove his honesty, the castle can surely hold him thoughhe has escaped once."

  "And from the South Tower," muttered Lemasle.

  "I ask nothing better than to strike a blow in your defence,mademoiselle," said Herrick.

  She looked at him curiously for a moment, as even she had looked athim last night when he had picked up the fallen whip.

  "I have no mercy for spies and traitors," she said slowly, "but proveyourself honest, and I may find a way to reward you."

  Herrick did not answer, but stood with bowed head as she passed out ofthe room.