"What I hold against you is that you have been taken armed--a rebel against your King and your G.o.d. I am going to make an example of you, and shall deal out to you the same mercy you showed to Champagnac, and----"

"Enough, monsieur!" said the prisoner; "let this talking end. If I have to die, let me die. I do not want a priest. I die in my faith, which is not yours. Let the matter end quickly, and be done with it."

A grim smile played on Montluc's lips as he leaned heavily on his sword.

"Well, be it so! I will not keep you. Supposing we say a leap."

"A leap?"

"Yes--from these battlements. If not, you will hang."

"Hang!--I!" And a flush came on the young n.o.ble's face.

"Precisely. Champagnac was hanged, if you remember, and it is the fate you reserved for me. You, however, have a choice."

For a moment there was a silence, and Montluc made a sign to the guards on either side of De Ganache to move away, and he was left free, except that his hands were fastened. With a half turn he looked over the battlements and gazed down from their dizzy height, and as he appeared at the embrasure there arose a hoa.r.s.e cry from below. He drew back, and faced Montluc again.

"Is it to be like this?" he asked thickly, making a motion to indicate his tied hands.

"Yes; you will fall easier."

At this brutal answer De Ganache looked hopelessly around, as if imploring help. His fort.i.tude seemed to give way, and he began to shiver in an uncontrollable manner. I could endure it no longer, and made a step forward; but, growling something that I did not catch, Sarlaboux seized me by the arm and drew me back. Just at this moment Montluc laughed a bitter, stinging laugh; and the wretched prisoner, swinging round, nerved himself to step again to the embrasure, and stopped there tottering. Again the shout rose from below, and Montluc rasped out:

"Come, De Ganache, two looks are enough!"

"I'll give you three to do it in, Monsieur de Montluc," I burst forth, and shaking Sarlaboux off stepped up to the General.

"You!" he snarled.

"Monsieur," I exclaimed, "this will cover you with shame! This is the act of a tiger, not a man. Forbear!--for the sake of your own fame, your own honour."

There was a low murmur behind me; even the stolid guards glanced at each other; but Montluc, after one swift, angry look at me, kept his head down, and made no answer, standing glowering at the hilt of his sword as one who did not hear.

It was De Ganache, however, who spoke. He had plucked up heart again after his weakness.

"There is at least one gentleman here! Let him alone, monsieur! Plead not! After all, death is but death." But I stayed him with uplifted hand, and went on: "Monsieur de Montluc, you will ever regret this.

Will you soil your glory with this act of shame?"

Our eyes met, and the sombre fury in his look dropped before my gaze.

I saw my advantage, and approaching closer to him urged him again, and to my joy he began to waver. Suddenly he turned from me, and walking to the battlements looked down himself, remaining there for a s.p.a.ce amidst an absolute silence, broken but once by the uneasy clink of a spur.

So he stood, and we waited breathlessly, for all hung on a hair; and then as suddenly he turned to us, his face looking older and more wrinkled than ever.

"M. de Ganache," he said in a hard voice, "you are free. Guards, loose him!"

Without another word or look he stepped forward, and began to limp slowly down the winding stair.

CHAPTER XIV

MADEMOISELLE DE PARADIS

As the guards cut the cords that bound De Ganache's arms those who were on the tower crowded round to congratulate him; but he seemed dazed, and unable to realise his fortune. With an effort, however, he brought himself together, and silently took my hand. He could not speak, but I understood; and now Sarlaboux urged an immediate move, saying that the sooner De Ganache was away the better, as there was no knowing what might happen next. With this he led the way down, and we followed.

On coming forth from the tower we found that the troops were already moving away, though many of the officers remained behind, and came up to us, out of curiosity to learn what had happened. At first we could not see Montluc anywhere, but a voice called out: "There is the General!" And looking, we saw a lonely figure in the distance galloping by the Marais de St. Hilaire. Then he turned the angle of the great priory. There was a flash of his red plume, a glitter of sunlight on his corselet, and he was gone.

"If you take my advice, monsieur," I said to De Ganache, "you will be off at once. Here is a horse--and there is the open gate." And with this I placed the reins of my nag, which Pierrebon had brought up, in his hand. The enthusiasm of the moment caught all. Menorval of the Light Horse gave him a sword, someone else a hat, another a cloak. The colour came and went from De Ganache's sunburnt face as, stammering his thanks, he mounted. Then he put out his hand to me. "Monsieur," he said, "I can never forget; and De Ganache is ever your friend. _Au revoir_, gentlemen!" So, giving the reins to the horse, he galloped out of the gate, which was but a stonethrow distant. As he crossed the bridge he turned in the saddle and waved his hand in farewell, and then we lost him in the hollow ground beyond.

Mounting Pierrebon's horse I joined the others, and we rode back to the priory--Menorval swearing that I must be a magician, as never before had he known Montluc yield as he had done this morning.

As for me, though surprised at the result, my satisfaction was increased by the thought that in aiding De Ganache I had helped one who was a friend of mademoiselle. It was not this that had prompted me to intervene on his behalf. Had it been anyone else I should have acted as I had done. De Ganache was not clean-handed. He had shown little mercy to those who fell into his hands, and when face to face with death he had shown the white feather, though at the last he seemed to recover himself. Still, guilty though he may have been, his death would have been a crime, and it was something to think I had stood between Montluc and that terrible blood madness which at times possessed him.

On arrival at the Capuchins my first thought was to see Montluc at once, and although Sarlaboux and others tried to dissuade me I persisted in my design, and found myself once more before the door of his cabinet. On my entering he received me coldly, and, without making any reference to what had just happened, inquired my business as if he had totally forgotten his summons to me. I explained that I was there in obedience to his request to see me, and after a moment of thought he said:

"You recollect I told you I would probably entrust you with a commission to the Queen? Are you ready to undertake it?"

"Perfectly."

"You will have to go back to Paris; but that is your way. When can you start?"

It was not wise to think of a return to Paris; but I had gone too far to shrink back now, and besides, I was beginning to believe again in my star. So I gulped down my fears, and put a bold front on the matter, saying:

"As soon as I can get a horse, monsieur."

"Ho!" And we looked at each other steadily. A faint smile bent his iron lips, and, muttering something in his beard, he took up a pen, scratched a few lines, and handed me the paper. I glanced at it, and saw it was an order to give me any horse I liked from his stable. I began to thank him; but he stopped me, saying:

"Show the order to Sarlaboux; and if you take my advice you will choose Lizette, the dun mare. She will well replace the one you have--lost."

"I well know how to value such a gift, monsieur."

"Here there is a packet for the Queen; but this is not your task. I am going to entrust you with a prisoner, whom you will place in the Queen's hands."

"Monsieur," I began; but he read my thoughts ere I had spoken them.

"Oh, it is no catch-poll's business; I have others to do that. This lady is only a nominal prisoner----"

"It's a woman, then?" And my thoughts went back to mademoiselle.

Could Sarlaboux have been mistaken?

"Yes; and remember that her life depends upon her reaching the Queen, though she does not believe it."

"May I ask this lady's name?"

"Mademoiselle de Paradis, the greatest heiress in Poitou, but a Huguenot to her little finger-tips."

"In that case, monsieur, the Queen's mantle of protection is likely to be a shroud."