"I have no wish to prolong the life of one of us by this talk," he replied, "but a tale once begun should be finished. You know how you promised to deliver up La Tournoire to me. I grant that you kept the promise to the letter. During the rest of that night I lay quiet with my men. We heard your departure the next morning, and when the way was clear we followed in your track. We could do so quietly, for we were afoot; we had left our horses in another part of this wilderness the day before. We heard you greeted by your sentinel, and guessed that you were near your burrow. We came no further, but looked around and found a projecting rock, under which to lie hidden, and a tree from whose top this place could be seen. So we have lodged under the rock, one of us keeping watch night and day from the tree. I hoped thus to be able to know when you should be taken, so that I might then look to the lady. But no soldiers came for you, neither you nor the lady departed from the place, no sign came to indicate an attack or a flight. You can imagine, monsieur, how a gentleman accustomed to court pleasures and Parisian fare enjoyed the kind of life that we have been leading for these several days. Now and then one of us would crawl forth to a stream for water, or forage for nuts and berries, and we snared a few birds, which we had to eat raw, not daring to make a fire. This existence became tiresome. This afternoon three of my knaves deserted. What was I to do? It was useless to go back to Montignac without having done his work. To stay there awaiting your capture or the lady's departure was perhaps to starve. To go any distance from this place was to lose sight of the woman, who might leave at any time, and we could not know what direction she might take. The enterprise had been at best a scurvy one, fit only for a man at the end of his resources. In fine, monsieur, when the last of my men threatened to follow his comrades, I crawled out of my hole, stretched my aching bones, and resolved to let Montignac's business go to the devil. There was no chance for me in the service of the French King, therefore I came to offer myself as a member of your company. In the Huguenot cause I might earn back some of the good things of life. It no longer matters on which side I fight. 'Twas the same with Barbemouche. And, inasmuch as I had decided to cast in my fortunes with yours, I naturally wished you well.

Thus it was my own interest I sought to serve, as well as yours, when I told you that this woman came here to betray you to La Chatre."

"You told me that," said I, calmly, "for one or both of two purposes,--the first, to make me withdraw my protection from the lady, in order that she might be at your disposal; the second, to get my confidence, in order that you yourself might betray me to La Chatre."

De Berquin laughed. "Am I, then, such a fool as to think that the wary Tournoire could be put off his guard by a man? No, no. The governor or Montignac was wise in choosing a woman for that delicate task. It is only by a Delilah that a Samson can be caught!"

"Monsieur," I said, with ironical admiration, "you are indeed as artful in your lies as you are bold. You have constructed a story that every circ.u.mstance seems to bear out. Yet one circ.u.mstance you have forgotten, or you are not aware of it. It destroys your whole edifice. The father of Mlle. de Varion is now a prisoner, held by the governor's order, on a charge of treason for having harbored Huguenots. Would his daughter undertake to do the work of a spy and a traitor for that governor against a Huguenot? Now for your ingenuity, monsieur!"

"Such things have been known," he answered, not at all discomfited. "His daughter may not have her father's weakness for Huguenots, and if she bears resentment against the governor on her father's account, her desire of the reward may outweigh that resentment. Covetousness is strong in women. You would not expect great filial devotion in a hired spy and traitress. Moreover, for all I know, this woman may not be Mlle. de Varion, although Montignac so named her to me. She may have a.s.sumed that character at his suggestion, in order to get your confidence and sympathy, not daring to pretend to be a Huguenot, lest some habitual act might betray the deception."

"Enough, M. de Berquin," I said. "I do your wit the credit of admitting that so well-wrought a lie was never before told. Only two things prevent its being believed. It is to me that you tell it, and it is of Mlle. de Varion! You complained a while ago of being chilly. Let us now warm ourselves!"

And so we went at it. I had no reason now to repeat the trick by which I had before disarmed him. Indeed, I wished him to keep sword in hand that I might have no scruples about killing him. I never could bring myself to give the death thrust to an unarmed man. Yet I was determined that the brain whence had sprung so horrible a story against my beloved should invent no more, that the lips which had uttered the accusation should not speak again. Yet he gave me a hard fight. It was for his life that he now wielded sword, and he was not now taken by surprise as he had been in our former meetings, or unsteadied by a desire of making a great flourish before a lady. He now brought to his use all his training as a fencer. He had a strong wrist and a good eye, despite the dissolute life that he had led. For some minutes our swords clashed, our boots beat the ground, and our lungs panted as we fought in the moonlight. I was anxious to have the thing over quickly, lest the noise we made might reach the ears of mademoiselle, and perhaps bring her to the scene. I knew that Blaise would keep the men away, but he would not presume to restrain mademoiselle. I wished, too, to have the thrust made before my antagonist should begin to show weakness of body or uncertainty of eye. But he maintained a good guard, and also required me to give much time and attention to my own defence. Indeed, his point once pa.s.sed through my shirt under my left shoulder, my left arm being then raised. But at last I caught him between two ribs as he was coming forward, and it was almost as though he had fallen on my sword. I missed his own sword only by quickly turning sidewise so that his weapon ran along the front of my breast without touching me.

He uttered one shriek, I drew my sword out of his body, and he fell in a limp heap. With a convulsive motion he straightened out and was still. I turned his body so that his face was towards the sky, and I went back to the courtyard, leaving him alone in the moonlight.

CHAPTER XIV.

"G.o.d GRANT I DO NOT FIND YOU FALSE!"

In the courtyard was mademoiselle, very pale and agitated, standing by Blaise and grasping his arm as if for support. She still had on the gown of pale green that she had worn earlier in the evening. Her head was uncovered, her hair in some disorder, and this, with the pallor of her face and the fright in her wide-open eyes, gave her some wildness of appearance. It was De Berquin's piercing death-cry that had blanched her cheek and made her clutch Blaise's arm.

"You have killed him!" she said, in a voice little above a whisper.

"You ought not to be here, mademoiselle," I replied.

"From my chamber window I saw you talking with M. de Berquin. What he said I know not, but you drew your sword and went away with him. I waited for a long time in anxiety until I heard the sound of swords. I came down, and would have gone to beg you to stop, but when I heard that awful shriek I could not go any further. Oh, monsieur, you have killed him!"

"He brought it on himself, mademoiselle," was all that I could say.

And here Blaise did what I thought a strange and presumptuous thing.

He approached mademoiselle, and, looking her keenly in the eyes, said, gravely:

"He said that you came from the governor of the province to betray M. de la Tournoire!"

"Blaise!" I cried, in great astonishment and anger. "How dare you even utter the calumny he spoke? Go you and look to the disposal of his body."

And I motioned him away with a wrathful gesture.

He looked frowningly at mademoiselle and then at me, and went off, with a shrug of his shoulders, to the place where De Berquin lay.

I turned to mademoiselle; she stood like a statue, her eyes fixed on the empty air before her. Yet she seemed to know when my look fell on her, for at that instant a slight tremor pa.s.sed through her.

"Tremble not for M. de Berquin, mademoiselle," said I, thinking of that divine gentleness in a woman which makes her pity even those who have persecuted her. "Indeed, he must have wished to die. He well knew that a certain way to death was to tempt my sword with a black lie of the truest lady in France."

"You killed him," she murmured, in a low, pitying voice, "because he said--I came from the governor--to betray you!"

"Why else, mademoiselle? What is the matter? Why do you look so?"

For all life and consciousness seemed to be about to leave her countenance.

"_Mon dieu_!" she said, weakly, "I cannot tell--I--"

I hastened to put my arms about her, that she might not fall.

"You pity him," I said, "but there could be nothing of good in one who could so slander you. Indeed, mademoiselle, you are ill. Let me lead you in. Believe me, mademoiselle, he well deserved his death."

Thus endeavoring to calm and restore her mind, I led her slowly into the chateau and up the steps to the door of her chamber. She followed as one without will and with little strength. Hugo and Jeannotte, who had been sitting on the landing outside her door, had risen as we came up the stairs. When I took my arms from about mademoiselle, she leaned on the maid's shoulder, and so pa.s.sed into her chamber, giving me neither look nor word. Leaving Hugo to keep his vigil outside her door, I went down to the great hall of the chateau.

Several of the men lay on the floor, most of them asleep. I asked one of them where Blaise had bestowed the three rascals who had become our prisoners, and he rose and led the way to a dark chamber at the rear of the hall. He took a torch that was stuck in the wall and followed me into this chamber. It was my desire to learn from these men whether or not Barbemouche, or one of them, had borne to M. de la Chatre an account of my hiding-place; for there had been time for one to have done so and returned. It might be that the original plan suggested to the governor by Montignac had been altered and that some other step had been adopted for my capture. The very visit of De Berquin, the very story he had told me, might have been connected with this other step. One of his purposes, in trying to make me think myself betrayed, may have been to induce me to leave a place so inaccessible to attack. If a new plan had been put in operation, these men might know something of it. I would question them and then consult with Blaise, comparing the answers they should give me with those they had given Blaise.

They lay snoring, their hands fastened behind their backs, their ankles so tied that they could not stretch out their legs. The man with me said that Blaise, after belaboring them and interrogating them to his heart's content, had relented, and brought some cold meat and wine for them. I suppose that the gentle spirit of his mother had obtained the ascendency. They had devoured the food with the avidity of starving dogs, and had lain down, full of grat.i.tude, to sleep. Blaise had then bound them up as a precaution against a too unceremonious departure. I woke them one after another, with gentle kicks, and they stared up at me, blinking in the torchlight. Submissively and readily, though drowsily, they answered my questions. They swore that neither Barbemouche nor any one of them, nor De Berquin himself, had borne any message to the governor; that the five had remained together from the first, living under the rock and keeping watch from the tree-top, as De Berquin had narrated, until the previous afternoon, when the three had deserted, only to fall into the hands of our sentinel. In every detail their account agreed with that of their late master. When I accused them of telling a prearranged lie, and threatened them with the torture, the foppish fellow said:

"What more can a man tell than the truth? But if you're not satisfied with it, monsieur, and let me know what you wish me to say, I'll say it with all my heart, and swear to it on whatever you name."

From the faces of the others, I knew that they, too, were willing to tell anything, true or false, to avoid torture, and so I could not but believe their story. Therefore, said I to myself, Montignac's plan not adhered to. De Berquin sent no one to the governor with information concerning my hiding-place. La Chatre had come to Clochonne without having awaited such information. De Berquin had been too slow. Perhaps, indeed, the plan had been altered so as to omit the sending of this preliminary word to the governor. A fixed time might have been set for the coming of the governor to Clochonne. De Berquin had probably retained his men that he might have one to use as messenger to the governor, in notifying La Chatre where to place his ambuscade, and that he might have others to waylay mademoiselle. His lie was doubtless a bold device to put mademoiselle into his power, and to get entrance to my company. It was a last resource, it was just as likely to bring death as to bring success, but he had taken a gambler's chances. They had gone against him, and he had uncomplainingly accepted his defeat.

So the governor's presence at Clochonne was not to be taken as reason for great alarm, inasmuch as there seemed now no probability that he knew my hiding-place. We were still safe at Maury. We should have only to maintain greater vigilance. Failing to hear from his agent, who now lay dead in the garden at Maury, and could never work us harm, the governor would eventually take new measures for my capture, or, if I kept quiet and my men left no traces, he would presently suppose that I had gone from his province. As for mademoiselle, neither La Chatre nor Montignac knew where she was. We might, therefore, have more of those delightful, peaceful days at Maury. Moreover, what better time to surprise the commandant of the Chateau of Fleurier than while La Chatre was at Clochonne? My heart beat gaily at thought of how bright was the prospect.

I pa.s.sed out by a back way to the garden, where Blaise had been looking to the body of De Berquin.

My late antagonist lay in peace and order, Blaise having replaced his doublet on him and put his sword by his side.

"A handsome gentleman," said Blaise, quietly, looking down at the body.

"But a fool as well as a liar," said I. "How could he think that such a story was to be swallowed? To have thrown him into confusion, I should have told him that I had overheard the plan for my capture, that I knew of an attempt to be made to get me from my men, that mademoiselle has never made any such attempt either by tryst or summons or on any pretext whatever."

"Neither has De Berquin," answered Blaise, sullenly, "and yet you think he was the spy whom the governor sent."

"He had no opportunity," I replied, rather sharply, annoyed at Blaise's manner. "He did not dare come here until he had formed a desperate plan on which to hazard everything."

"As for mademoiselle's having had the opportunity and yet not having done so," Blaise went on, with a kind of doggedness, "the spy was not to plan the ambush until the governor should arrive at Clochonne."

"By G.o.d!" I cried. "Do you dare hint that you credit this villain's lie for a moment?" In my exasperation I half drew my sword.

"I credit nothing and discredit nothing," he said, in a low but stubborn tone, "but I place no one above doubt, except G.o.d and you. I have had my thoughts, monsieur, and have them still. It is enough, as yet, to keep all eyes open and turned in many directions."

"You cur! You dare to suspect--" Without finishing the sentence, I struck him across the face with the back of my hand.

He drew a deep breath, but made no movement.

"I shall not trouble myself to suspect," he went on, with no change of tone, "until we know that M. de la Chatre is at Clochonne,--"

"We know that already," I broke in, hotly. "Marianne brought the news this afternoon."

"Until we know that mademoiselle knows it," he went on.