"And who the deuce is this young bantam c.o.c.k?" said Santerre.

"I am the little Chevalier Mondyon," said Arthur; "a true royalist, and sworn knight to Agatha Larochejaquelin. And that man there is a traitor and a false knave; he is not fit to be punished with a sword like a gentleman."

"Well crowed, my bantam," said Santerre; "and be good enough to tell me where you come from. No, friend Denot, no, we'll have no dagger work just at present." And putting his huge hand on the other's shoulder, he dragged him back as he was about to plunge his knife into the little Chevalier.

"I came from the cherry wood there," said Arthur. "Maybe you think I ought not to have run away, and deserted my lady love. Maybe I'm rather ashamed of my own self, but at any rate when you speak of it, say that I came back of my own accord. I'm not a bit afraid to die now," and as he spoke he squeezed Agatha's hand. His heart was full of apprehension, lest she should suspect for a moment that he had really fled from her through fear, but Agatha understood well his ready wit, and appreciated his more than boyish courage.

Santerre now made his arrangements for the night. All the inhabitants of the chateau were kept under strict surveillance. The Marquis, his daughter, and the Chevalier were allowed to remain together, and Denot was prevented from annoying them. At day-break the following morning Durbelliere was to be burnt, and Santerre, with his prisoners, would then proceed to join Westerman at Bressuire.

"Let him slaughter them, if he likes," said he to himself, "I don't care what he says of me. I am at any rate too well known to be suspected. I don't know what came over me today, but had the Republic depended on it, I could not have done it," and he flung himself down on one of Agatha's sofas, and slept not the less soundly for having began his career of extermination in so vacillating a manner.

CHAPTER X.

THE RESCUE.

The little Chevalier had no intention of saving himself, and deserting his friends, when, on Santerre's approach, he ran off, leaving Agatha and the Marquis at the garden door of the chateau. He knew that Chapeau was at the smith's forge, with his own pony. He had himself sent him there; and as soon as he perceived, on running round the side of the house, that the whole front was occupied by the blues, his first idea was to go after his pony, and ride as fast as the animal could carry him to Echanbroignes, and bring the royalists from thence to the rescue of their friends at Durbelliere. With this object he clambered over the garden-wall, and well knowing every foot of the ground, reached the forge in a few minutes. Chapeau and the smith were there, as was also the pony, and a breathless countryman was already telling them that the chateau was surrounded by the whole army of blues.

"Here's the Chevalier," said Chapeau, stopping the peasant in his story.

"In the name of Heaven, M. Arthur, what is all this?"

"That traitor, Denot, has brought a parcel of blues down upon the chateau," said the Chevalier. "The Marquis and Mademoiselle Agatha are already in their hands; they will be murdered before morning. What is to be done? Oh! Chapeau, what are we to do to save them?"

"M. Denot!" said Chapeau. "You don't mean to say M. Denot has turned blue--"

"I saw him with my own eyes," said the boy; "he was one of the officers commanding the men; but there was another over him, a big, clumsy, noisy man; he it was I saw first of all, and Denot was behind him; and then there was a crowd of hors.e.m.e.n following them. Both drawing-rooms were full before we knew they were in the house at all."

"And how did you get through them, M. Arthur?" said Chapeau.

"I got over the wall behind the stables. I never went into the house at all. But what on earth are we to do, Chapeau? Can't we get the men from Echanbroignes to come to the rescue?"

The matter was then discussed between them, and it was decided that Chapeau should take the pony, and collect the men at Echanbroignes and on the road thither, and that he should return with them, if possible, during the night; that the smith should go off to St. Laud, and get Father Jerome to bring with him the men from thence, and that Arthur should return to the chateau.

"No," said he, when Chapeau pressed him to undertake the mission to Echanbroignes, "I will not leave Mademoiselle Agatha and the Marquis any longer. They will think I have run away. Besides, maybe, I can be of some service to them there. At any rate, I will go and see what is going on; but, Chapeau, our lives depend on you. Don't lose one single minute now, even though you should ride poor Bayard to death," and he put his hand on the neck of the pony, whom he had named after the flower of chivalry.

Chapeau and the smith started on their important missions, and the Chevalier slowly, but manfully, walked back to the chateau. No one stopped him as he walked through the open gates, and in at the back door. On getting into the hall, he heard the sound of the Marquis's voice, as he was praying Santerre to preserve his daughter from Denot, and then, hurrying into the room, he made use of the little cherry stick which he carried, in the manner which has been described.

None of the inhabitants of the chateau went to bed that night; indeed, the beds were all occupied by the troopers, who threw themselves down to sleep, without taking off their boots, wherever they could find any convenient place to lie down. To do Santerre justice, he repeatedly pressed the Marquis to go to his own room, a.s.suring him that he should not be further disturbed than by the presence of a sentinel; but the old man insisted on remaining in the salon, and Agatha and the Chevalier sat with him. Santerre, and Denot, and a cavalry sergeant, remained in the same room, and a couple of sentinels were stationed on the top of the steps at the back of the house, and four at the front. None of the party in the salon slept, excepting Santerre; but they all sat silent; neither Arthur nor Agatha dared to speak to each other on the subject which at that time filled their thoughts. The night seemed dreadfully long to Arthur, and yet hardly long enough. He discovered soon after his return, that it was Santerre's purpose to burn the chateau early in the morning, and then to take the inhabitants away with him as prisoners; and he greatly feared that Chapeau would not be able to return in time to prevent the conflagration. He anxiously watched the first break of day, and listened intently, but for a long time in vain, for the noise of coming feet. About half-past two, a soldier came and whispered to the sergeant, who then woke Santerre, and whispered to him, but the General was sleepy, and did not wish his dreams should be disturbed. He muttered something to the sergeant, who again left him, and resumed the seat in which he had sat since he first entered the room. Denot had risen two or three times during the night, and paced rapidly and uneasily about.

Whenever he had done so, Agatha had firmly grasped both her father's chair and the Chevalier's hand, as though she feared he was about to renew his attempts to drag her away, but he did not either touch her or speak to her. He was probably aware that the sergeant, who sat there without once closing his eyes through the long hours, had orders to prevent him from doing so.

The Chevalier had no watch, and could not see how the hours were going, but it seemed to him as though it were broad day. He thought it must be five, six, nay seven o'clock; and he could not understand why the lazy republicans remained so pa.s.sive and so quiet, nor could he imagine why Chapeau was so long in coming. The whole affair seemed to him so strange that he could hardly help fancying that he was dreaming. There sat close to him his dear friend Agatha, with her eyes wide open, fixed on Denot, and she had been gazing in this way for hours after hours, without speaking a word. There was the Marquis close to her, equally silent, but also wide awake, though his eyes were closed. Arthur was sure that he was awake. There was Denot marching to and fro. Adolphe Denot, who but the other day was in the house, not only as a friend, but as a comrade, eager in the cause in which they were all embarked, as much at home in the chateau as Henri Larochejaquelin himself: and now he was the worst of traitors, and the most cruel of enemies--there was the sergeant of the republican army, sitting as quiet and composed as though he were merely idling his time away in his own barracks; and there was Santerre--the much talked of republican brewer and General; the sanguinary, remorseless, fanatic democrat; the sworn enemy of all that was n.o.ble, loyal and gentle, the dreaded Santerre; for the Chevalier had now learned the name of the big, clumsy, noisy man, whom he had seen leading his troops into the salon where he was now sleeping--there he was, sleeping fast: while care, anxiety, or a sense of duty banished sleep from all the others, he, who had so much more need than others to be watchful, was snoring loud, and dreaming of the denizens of the faubourgs, who used to love him so well. All this seemed to Arthur like a dream from which he could not awake--there were his enemies, his deadly enemies, before and around him. He knew that it was the practice of the republican soldiers to ma.s.sacre all whom they took bearing arms against the Republic he had even heard that it was now their horrid purpose to go further than this, and to slaughter the inhabitants of the whole district which had revolted; at any rate his own doom would be death; he was certain that he had not many days, probably many hours, to live, unless Chapeau should arrive in time, and with sufficient force, to rescue the whole party. Yet he felt no fear; he could not sufficiently realize the position in which he found himself, to feel the full effects of its danger. The republican sergeant sat immediately in front of him, and each kept his eye fixed on the other's face; not that either of them had any object in doing so, any particular motive for watching the other's countenance, but soon after day-break the gaze of each had become fixed, and it seemed as though neither of them were able to turn away his eyes.

Arthur occupied his mind in speculating on the character of the soldier, in trying to guess from his features whether he were a cruel or a kind-hearted man; whether he were a ferocious democrat, eager for the blood of all who had been born in a rank above him, or merely a well-trained soldier, obeying the behests of those under whose orders it was his duty to act. The Chevalier had no idea that his own or his friends' fate depended in any way on the man's disposition; but such thoughts came across his brain unwittingly, and he could not restrain them. At last, he felt that he had a kind of intimacy with the sergeant; that if he should chance to meet him after three or four years had pa.s.sed, he should greet him as an old acquaintance, whom he had well known, and he was sure that the sergeant had the same feeling respecting him.

The day dawned soon after two o'clock, and as by degrees the clear sun-light streamed in at the uncurtained windows, Arthur, in his impatience, thought that the day was advancing; but in reality it was not yet five o'clock, when Santerre, waking with a tremendous yawn, stretched his huge limbs, and then jumped up from the sofa on which he had been lying.

"Now for a bonfire," said he, "and then for breakfast; or perhaps we had better get our breakfast first, and have our bonfire afterwards. Old gentleman, I have no doubt my men took strange liberties with your cellar and larder last night. I hope they have left enough about the place to furnish you with the last meal you will ever eat in this chateau."

"I know, Sir, what soldiers are in a house," said the old man. "I will not say that your men are welcome here, for that would be falsehood; but I begrudge them nothing that they eat and drink."

"Well, that's kind of you; but, considering that all which is not now eaten and drunk, will be immediately wasted and spoilt, you would certainly be foolish to allow the consumption of your provisions to make you uneasy. Here, sergeant," and then Santerre spoke aside to the sergeant, and gave him various orders, which the man departed to obey.

"And now, General Santerre," said Denot, marching close up to him, "are you prepared to make good your promise to me? Are you prepared to give me an escort for myself and this lady, and to allow us to commence our journey from hence to Saumur?"

Denot's personal appearance had not been at all improved by the blow which Arthur had given him across his face. Both his cheeks were much swollen immediately beneath the eyes, and one of them was severely cut.

He felt that his looks were against him, and he endeavoured to make up for the injury his countenance had sustained by the sternness of his voice, and the determined rigour of his eye. "I presume, General Santerre," added he, "that your plighted word is sufficient warrant to me for your good faith."

"There is the lady," said Santerre, pointing to Agatha. "I did not undertake to protect you from the wrath of any rivals you might have in her affections. It seems to me that at present she prefers that young dare-devil slip of aristocracy to your patriotic ardour. If she won't go to Saumur with you, I can't make her."

"By all the powers of heaven and h.e.l.l, she shall go with me!" said Denot, advancing towards her.

"Beware the switch--beware the switch again, thou false knave!" said the little Chevalier, jumping up, and standing immediately before Agatha, with his cherry stick in his hand. Denot had no other arms about him but his dagger, and that he drew, as he advanced towards the boy.

"No daggers--I will have no daggers," shouted Santerre. "Sergeant, take the dagger from him, unless he puts it up."

"Beware the switch, thou traitor! beware the switch, thou knave!"

continued the Chevalier, shaking the stick at Denot, upon whose arm the strong hand of the sergeant, who had returned to the room, was now laid heavily.

"I will choke the brat as I would an adder," said Denot, attempting to shake off the sergeant's hand. "There, take the dagger," and he dropped it on the ground, and rushing at the boy, got inside the swing of his stick, and made a grasp at his throat. Arthur, however, was too quick for him, and pushing away his hand, fastened his own arms round his adversary. They were now close locked in each other's embrace, and kicking, plunging, and striving, each did his best to throw the other to the ground.

"Oh! Sir, kind Sir, for mercy's sake separate them!" said Agatha, appealing to Santerre; "he is but a boy, a child, and that wretched man is mad. He'll murder the boy before your eyes, if you do not separate them."

"He won't find it so easy though," said the Chevalier, panting, and out of breath; but still holding his own, and, indeed, more than his own; for he had fixed his left hand in Denot's hair, and was pulling his head backwards with such force, that he nearly broke his neck.

"I think the young one has the best of it," said Santerre; "but come, citizen Denot, your loves and your quarrels are troublesome to us; we have other work to attend to. Get up, man, get up, I tell you."

Denot, by his superior weight and strength, had succeeded in getting the Chevalier to the ground, but Arthur still kept his hold in his hair, and though Adolphe was on the top of his foe, he did not find it very easy to get up.

"Get up, I say," said Santerre. "You'll gain nothing by wrestling with that fellow; he's more than a match for you. Well, Captain, what's the matter?"

The room in which the party had pa.s.sed the night looked out into the garden at the back of the house. The front room communicated with this by folding-doors, which during the night had been closed. These doors were now violently thrown open, and one of the officers, followed by about a dozen men, rushed into the room.

"The road is crowded with men," said the officer; "thousands of these brigands are on us. The chateau will be surrounded in five minutes."

"H---- and the d----," said Santerre between his teeth. "This comes of playing the fool here," and he hurried out of the room in company with the officer.

"Hurrah!" said the Chevalier, jumping to his feet. "I knew they'd be here soon--I knew they'd be here soon," and running to Agatha's side he caught hold of her hand, and covered it with kisses.

Denot also arose. He had also heard the officer say that the peasants were coming on them, and he felt that if he were taken, he could expect no mercy from those who had so lately been his friends. He did not, however, attempt to fly, but he stood still on the spot where he got up, and after wiping his hot brow with his handkerchief, he said slowly and mournfully--"Agatha Larochejaquelin, you now see to what your conduct has reduced me; and with my last breath I tell you that I owe my disgrace, my misery, and my death--ay, and the loss of my eternal soul, to you, and to you only. Ay, shudder and shake, thou lovely monster of cruelty. Shake and grieve with remorse and fear. You may well do so. My living form shall trouble you no more, but dead and dying I will be with you till the last trump sounds on the fearful day of judgment."

Agatha did not answer him. She felt a.s.sured that he was mad, and she only pitied him. She had now too reason to hope that she and her father, and their whole household, would be relieved from their horrible position, and she no longer felt anything like anger against the unfortunate wretch whom uncontrolled pa.s.sions had absolutely maddened.

Arthur, in his anxiety to see what was going forward, was about to leave the room, but Agatha laid her hand upon his arm to detain him, merely looking towards Denot as she did so.

"And do you think," said Denot, "that puny boy could really stop my way, if I chose to put out my right hand against him. Boy, I despise and disregard you! would before I die that it might be allowed me to measure arms with any man, who would dare to say that he would advocate your cause!"

"Beware the switch, traitor--beware the switch!" repeated the Chevalier.

"Be quiet, Arthur, do not anger him," whispered Agatha. "It is not generous, you know, to insult a fallen foe."