CHAPTER XXVIII. THE CAGED LION
Was there some instinct of humanity left in the soldier who allowedMarguerite through the barrier into the prisoner's cell? Had the wanface of this beautiful woman stirred within his heart the last chord ofgentleness that was not wholly atrophied by the constant cruelties, theexcesses, the mercilessness which his service under this fraternisingrepublic constantly demanded of him?
Perhaps some recollection of former years, when first he served his Kingand country, recollection of wife or sister or mother pleaded withinhim in favour of this sorely-stricken woman with the look of unspeakablesorrow in her large blue eyes.
Certain it is that as soon as Marguerite passed the barrier he puthimself on guard against it with his back to the interior of the celland to her.
Marguerite had paused on the threshold.
After the glaring light of the guard-room the cell seemed dark, and atfirst she could hardly see. The whole length of the long, narrow cubiclelay to her left, with a slight recess at its further end, so that fromthe threshold of the doorway she could not see into the distant corner.Swift as a lightning flash the remembrance came back to her of proudMarie Antoinette narrowing her life to that dark corner where theinsolent eyes of the rabble soldiery could not spy her every movement.
Marguerite stepped further into the room. Gradually by the dim light ofan oil lamp placed upon a table in the recess she began to distinguishvarious objects: one or two chairs, another table, and a small but verycomfortable-looking camp bedstead.
Just for a few seconds she only saw these inanimate things, then shebecame conscious of Percy's presence.
He sat on a chair, with his left arm half-stretched out upon the table,his head hidden in the bend of the elbow.
Marguerite did not utter a cry; she did not even tremble. Just for onebrief instant she closed her eyes, so as to gather up all her couragebefore she dared to look again. Then with a steady and noiseless stepshe came quite close to him. She knelt on the flagstones at his feet andraised reverently to her lips the hand that hung nerveless and limp byhis side.
He gave a start; a shiver seemed to go right through him; he half raisedhis head and murmured in a hoarse whisper:
"I tell you that I do not know, and if I did--"
She put her arms round him and pillowed her head upon his breast. Heturned his head slowly toward her, and now his eyes--hollowed and rimmedwith purple--looked straight into hers.
"My beloved," he said, "I knew that you would come." His arms closedround her. There was nothing of lifelessness or of weariness in thepassion of that embrace; and when she looked up again it seemed to heras if that first vision which she had had of him with weary head bent,and wan, haggard face was not reality, only a dream born of her ownanxiety for him, for now the hot, ardent blood coursed just as swiftlyas ever through his veins, as if life--strong, tenacious, pulsatinglife--throbbed with unabated vigour in those massive limbs, and behindthat square, clear brow as though the body, but half subdued, hadtransferred its vanishing strength to the kind and noble heart that wasbeating with the fervour of self-sacrifice.
"Percy," she said gently, "they will only give us a few momentstogether. They thought that my tears would break your spirit where theirdevilry had failed."
He held her glance with his own, with that close, intent look whichbinds soul to soul, and in his deep blue eyes there danced the restlessflames of his own undying mirth:
"La! little woman," he said with enforced lightness, even whilst hisvoice quivered with the intensity of passion engendered by her presence,her nearness, the perfume of her hair, "how little they know you, eh?Your brave, beautiful, exquisite soul, shining now through your gloriouseyes, would defy the machinations of Satan himself and his horde. Closeyour dear eyes, my love. I shall go mad with joy if I drink their beautyin any longer."
He held her face between his two hands, and indeed it seemed as if hecould not satiate his soul with looking into her eyes. In the midst ofso much sorrow, such misery and such deadly fear, never had Margueritefelt quite so happy, never had she felt him so completely her own. Theinevitable bodily weakness, which of necessity had invaded even hissplendid physique after a whole week's privations, had made a severebreach in the invincible barrier of self-control with which the soul ofthe inner man was kept perpetually hidden behind a mask of indifferenceand of irresponsibility.
And yet the agony of seeing the lines of sorrow so plainly writ on thebeautiful face of the woman he worshipped must have been the keenestthat the bold adventurer had ever experienced in the whole course of hisreckless life. It was he--and he alone--who was making her suffer;her for whose sake he would gladly have shed every drop of his blood,endured every torment, every misery and every humiliation; her whom heworshipped only one degree less than he worshipped his honour and thecause which he had made his own.
Yet, in spite of that agony, in spite of the heartrending pathos of herpale wan face, and through the anguish of seeing her tears, the rulingpassion--strong in death--the spirit of adventure, the mad, wild,devil-may-care irresponsibility was never wholly absent.
"Dear heart," he said with a quaint sigh, whilst he buried his face inthe soft masses of her hair, "until you came I was so d--d fatigued."
He was laughing, and the old look of boyish love of mischief illuminedhis haggard face.
"Is it not lucky, dear heart," he said a moment or two later, "thatthose brutes do not leave me unshaved? I could not have faced you with aweek's growth of beard round my chin. By dint of promises and briberyI have persuaded one of that rabble to come and shave me every morning.They will not allow me to handle a razor my-self. They are afraid Ishould cut my throat--or one of theirs. But mostly I am too d--d sleepyto think of such a thing."
"Percy!" she exclaimed with tender and passionate reproach.
"I know--I know, dear," he murmured, "what a brute I am! Ah, God dida cruel thing the day that He threw me in your path. To think thatonce--not so very long ago--we were drifting apart, you and I. You wouldhave suffered less, dear heart, if we had continued to drift."
Then as he saw that his bantering tone pained her, he covered her handswith kisses, entreating her forgiveness.
"Dear heart," he said merrily, "I deserve that you should leave me torot in this abominable cage. They haven't got me yet, little woman, youknow; I am not yet dead--only d--d sleepy at times. But I'll cheat themeven now, never fear."
"How, Percy--how?" she moaned, for her heart was aching with intolerablepain; she knew better than he did the precautions which were being takenagainst his escape, and she saw more clearly than he realised it himselfthe terrible barrier set up against that escape by ever encroachingphysical weakness.
"Well, dear," he said simply, "to tell you the truth I have not yetthought of that all-important 'how.' I had to wait, you see, until youcame. I was so sure that you would come! I have succeeded in putting onpaper all my instructions for Ffoulkes and the others. I will give themto you anon. I knew that you would come, and that I could give them toyou; until then I had but to think of one thing, and that was of keepingbody and soul together. My chance of seeing you was to let them havetheir will with me. Those brutes were sure, sooner or later, to bringyou to me, that you might see the caged fox worn down to imbecility,eh? That you might add your tears to their persuasion, and succeed wherethey have failed."
He laughed lightly with an unstrained note of gaiety, only Marguerite'ssensitive ears caught the faint tone of bitterness which rang throughthe laugh.
"Once I know that the little King of France is safe," he said, "I canthink of how best to rob those d--d murderers of my skin."
Then suddenly his manner changed. He still held her with one arm closelyto, him, but the other now lay across the table, and the slender,emaciated hand was tightly clutched. He did not look at her, butstraight ahead; the eyes, unnaturally large now, with their deep purplerims, looked far ahead beyond the stone walls of this grim, cruelprison.
The passionate lover, hun
gering for his beloved, had vanished; theresat the man with a purpose, the man whose firm hand had snatched men andwomen and children from death, the reckless enthusiast who tossed hislife against an ideal.
For a while he sat thus, while in his drawn and haggard face she couldtrace every line formed by his thoughts--the frown of anxiety, theresolute setting of the lips, the obstinate look of will around the firmjaw. Then he turned again to her.
"My beautiful one," he said softly, "the moments are very precious. Godknows I could spend eternity thus with your dear form nestling againstmy heart. But those d--d murderers will only give us half an hour, and Iwant your help, my beloved, now that I am a helpless cur caught in theirtrap. Will you listen attentively, dear heart, to what I am going tosay?
"Yes, Percy, I will listen," she replied.
"And have you the courage to do just what I tell you, dear?"
"I would not have courage to do aught else," she said simply.
"It means going from hence to-day, dear heart, and perhaps not meetingagain. Hush-sh-sh, my beloved," he said, tenderly placing his thin handover her mouth, from which a sharp cry of pain had well-nigh escaped;"your exquisite soul will be with me always. Try--try not to give way todespair. Why! your love alone, which I see shining from your dear eyes,is enough to make a man cling to life with all his might. Tell me! willyou do as I ask you?"
And she replied firmly and courageously:
"I will do just what you ask, Percy."
"God bless you for your courage, dear. You will have need of it."