CHAPTER X. CLON

'You!' she cried, in a voice which pierced my heart. 'You are M. de Berault? It is impossible!' But, glancing askance at her--I could not face her I saw that the blood had left her cheeks.

'Yes, Mademoiselle,' I answered in a low tone. 'De Barthe was my mother's name. When I came here, a stranger, I took it that I might not be known; that I might again speak to a good woman, and not see her shrink. That, and--but why trouble you with all this?' I continued rebelling, against her silence, her turned shoulder, her averted face.

'You asked me, Mademoiselle, how I could take a blow and let the striker go. I have answered. It is the one privilege M. de Berault possesses.'

'Then,' she replied almost in a whisper, 'if I were M. de Berault, I would avail myself of it, and never fight again.'

'In that event, Mademoiselle,' I answered coldly, 'I should lose my men friends as well as my women friends. Like Monseigneur the Cardinal, rule by fear.'

She shuddered, either at the name or at the idea my words called up; and, for a moment, we stood awkwardly silent. The shadow of the sundial fell between us; the garden was still; here and there a leaf fluttered slowly down. With each instant of that silence, of that aversion, I felt the gulf between us growing wider, I felt myself growing harder; I mocked at her past which was so unlike mine; I mocked at mine, and called it fate. I was on the point of turning from her with a bow--and with a furnace in my breast--when she spoke.

'There is a last rose lingering there,' she said, a slight tremor in her voice. 'I cannot reach it. Will you pluck it for me, M. de Berault?'

I obeyed her, my hand trembling, my face on fire. She took the rose from me, and placed it in the bosom of her dress, And I saw that her hand trembled too, and that her cheek was dark with blushes.

She turned without more ado, and began to walk towards the house.

'Heaven forbid that I should misjudge you a second time!' she said in a low voice. 'And, after all, who am I, that I should judge you at all? An hour ago I would have killed that man had I possessed the power.'

'You repented, Mademoiselle,' I said huskily. I could scarcely speak.

'Do you never repent?' she said.

'Yes. But too late, Mademoiselle.'

'Perhaps it is never too late,' she answered softly.

'Alas, when a man is dead--'

'You may rob a man of worse than life!' she replied with energy, stopping me by a gesture. 'If you have never robbed a man--or a woman--of honour! If you have never ruined boy or girl, M. de Berault!

If you have never pushed another into the pit and gone by it yourself!

If--but, for murder? Listen. You are a Romanist, but I am a Huguenot, and have read. "Thou shall not kill!" it is written; and the penalty, "By man shall thy blood be shed!" But, "If you cause one of these little ones to offend, it were better for you that a mill-stone were hanged about your neck, and that you were cast into the depths of the sea."'

'Mademoiselle, you are merciful,' I muttered.

'I need mercy myself,' she answered, sighing. 'And I have had few temptations. How do I know what you have suffered?'

'Or done!' I said, almost rudely.

'Where a man has not lied, nor betrayed, nor sold himself or others,'

she answered in a low tone, 'I think I can forgive all else. I can better put up with force,' she added smiling sadly, 'than with fraud.'

Ah, Dieu! I turned away my face that she might not see how pale it grew; that she might not guess how her words, meant in mercy, stabbed me to the heart. And yet, then, for the first time, while viewing in all its depth and width the gulf which separated us, I was not hardened; I was not cast back upon myself. Her gentleness, her pity, her humility softened me, while they convicted me. My G.o.d, how, after this, could I do that which I had come to do? How could I stab her in the tenderest part, how could I inflict on her that rending pang, how could I meet her eyes, and stand before her, a Caliban, a Judas, the vilest, lowest thing she could conceive?

I stood, a moment, speechless and disordered; overcome by her words, by my thoughts. I have seen a man so stand when he has lost all at the tables. Then I turned to her; and for an instant I thought that my tale was told already, I thought that she had pierced my disguise. For her face was changed--stricken as with fear. The next moment, I saw that she was not looking at me, but beyond me; and I turned quickly and saw a servant hurrying from the house to us. It was Louis. His eyes were staring, his hair waved, his cheeks were flabby with dismay, He breathed as if he had been running.

'What is it?' Mademoiselle cried, while he was still some way off.

'Speak, man. My sister? Is she--'

'Clon,' he gasped.

The name changed her to stone.

'Clon? What of him?' she muttered.

'In the village!' Louis panted, his tongue stuttering with terror. 'They are flogging him. They are killing him! To make him tell!'

Mademoiselle grasped the sundial and leant against it, her face colourless; and, for an instant, I thought that she was fainting.

'Tell?' I said mechanically. 'But he cannot tell. He is dumb, man.'

'They will make him guide them,' Louis groaned, covering his ears with his shaking hands, his face the colour of paper. 'And his cries! Oh, Monsieur, go, go!' he continued, in a thrilling tone. 'Save him. All through tie wood I heard his cries. It was horrible! horrible!'

Mademoiselle uttered a moan of pain; and I turned to support her, thinking each second to see her fall. But with a sudden movement she straightened herself, and, quickly slipping by me, with eyes that seemed to see nothing, she set off swiftly down the walk towards the meadow gate.

I ran after her; but, taken by surprise as I was, it was only by a great effort I reached the gate before her, and thrusting myself in the road, barred the way.

'Let me pa.s.s!' she panted, striving to thrust me on one side. 'Out of my way, sir! I am going to the village.'

'You are not going to the village,' I said sternly. 'Go back; to the house, Mademoiselle, and at once.'

'My servant!' she wailed. 'Let me go! Let me go! Do you think I can rest here while they torture him? He cannot speak, and they--they--'

'Go back, Mademoiselle,' I said, with decision. 'Your presence would only make matters worse! I will go myself, and what one man can do against many, I will! Louis, give your mistress your arm and take her to the house. Take her to Madame.'

'But you will go?' she cried. And before I could stay her--I swear I would have stopped her if I could--she raised my hand and carried it to her trembling lips. 'You will go! Go and stop them! Stop them, and Heaven reward you, Monsieur!'

I did not answer; nay, I did not once look back, as I crossed the meadow; but I did not look forward either. Doubtless it was gra.s.s I trod, and the wood was before me with the sun shining aslant on it; doubtless the house rose behind me with a flame here and there in the windows. But I went in a dream, among shadows; with a racing pulse, in a glow from head to heel; conscious of nothing but the touch of Mademoiselle's warm lips on my hand, seeing neither meadow nor house, nor even the dark fringe of wood before me, but only Mademoiselle's pa.s.sionate face. For the moment I was drunk: drunk with that to which I had been so long a stranger, with that which a man may scorn for years, to find it at last beyond his reach drunk with the touch of a good woman's lips.

I pa.s.sed the bridge in this state; and my feet were among the brushwood before the heat and fervour in which I moved found on a sudden their direction. Something began to penetrate to my veiled senses--a hoa.r.s.e inarticulate cry, now deep, now shrilling horribly, that of itself seemed to fill the wood. It came at intervals of half a minute or so, and made the flesh creep, it rang so full of dumb pain, of impotent wrestling, of unspeakable agony. I am a man and have seen things. I saw the Concini beheaded, and Chalais ten years later--they gave him thirty-four blows; and when I was a boy I escaped from the college and viewed from a great distance Ravaillac torn by horses--that was in the year ten. But the horrible cries I now heard, filled me, perhaps because I was alone and fresh from the sight of Mademoiselle, with loathing inexpressible. The very wood, though the sun had not yet set, seemed to grow dark. I ran on through it, cursing, until the hovels of the village came in sight. Again the shriek rose, a pulsing horror, and this time I could hear the lash fall on the sodden flesh, I could see in fancy the dumb man, trembling, quivering, straining against his bonds. And then, in a moment, I was in the street, and, as the scream once more tore the air, I dashed round the corner by the inn, and came upon them.

I did not look at HIM, but I saw Captain Larolle and the Lieutenant, and a ring of troopers, and one man, bare-armed, teasing out with his fingers the thongs of a whip. The thongs dripped blood, and the sight fired the mine. The rage I had suppressed when the Lieutenant bearded me earlier in the afternoon, the pa.s.sion with which Mademoiselle's distress had filled my breast, on the instant found vent. I sprang through the line of soldiers; and striking the man with the whip a buffet between the shoulders, which hurled him breathless to the ground, I turned on the leaders.

'You fiends!' I cried. 'Shame on you! The man is dumb! Dumb; and if I had ten men with me, I would sweep you and your sc.u.m out of the village with broomsticks. Lay on another lash,' I continued recklessly, 'and I will see whether you or the Cardinal be the stronger.'

The Lieutenant stared at me, his grey moustache bristling, his eyes almost starting from his head. Some of the troopers laid their hands on their swords, but no one moved, and only the Captain spoke.

'MILLE DIABLES!' he swore. 'What is all this about? Are you mad, sir?'

'Mad or sane!' I cried furiously. 'Lay on another lash, and you shall repent it.'

For an instant there was a pause of astonishment. Then, to my surprise, the Captain laughed--laughed loudly.

'Very heroic,' he said. 'Quite magnificent, M. Chevalier-errant. But you see, unfortunately, you come too late.'

'Too late,' I said incredulously.