CHAPTER V.
A ROUGH WOOING.
The young man had caught the delirium that was abroad that night. Therage of the trapped beast was in his heart, his hand held a sword. Tostrike blindly, to strike without question the first who withstood himwas the wild-beast instinct; and if Count Hannibal had not spoken onthe instant, the Marshal's brother had said his last word in theworld.
Yet as he stood there, a head above the crowd, he seemed unconsciousalike of Tignonville and the point that all but pricked his breast.Swart and grim-visaged, his harsh features distorted by the glarewhich shone upon him, he looked beyond the Huguenot to the sea oftossing arms and raging faces that surged about the saddles of thehorsemen. It was to these he spoke.
"Begone, dogs!" he cried, in a voice that startled the nearest, "or Iwill whip you away with my stirrup-leathers! Do you hear? Begone! Thishouse is not for you! Burn, kill, plunder where you will, but gohence!"
"But 'tis on the list!" one of the wretches yelled. "'Tis on thelist!" And he pushed forward until he stood at Tignonville's elbow.
"And has no cross!" shrieked another, thrusting himself forward in histurn. "See you, let us by, whoever you are! In the King's name, kill!It has no cross!"
"Then," Tavannes thundered, "will I nail you for a cross to the frontof it! No cross, say you? I will make one of you, foul crow!"
And as he spoke, his arm shot out; the man recoiled, his fellowlikewise. But one of the mounted archers took up the matter.
"Nay, but, my lord," he said--he knew Tavannes--"it is the King's willthere be no favour shown to-night to any, small or great. And thishouse is registered, and is full of heretics."
"And has no cross!" the rabble urged in chorus. And they leapt up anddown in their impatience, and to see the better. "And has no cross!"they persisted. They could understand that. Of what use crosses, ifthey were not to kill where there was no cross? Daylight was notplainer.
Tavannes' face grew dark, and he shook his finger at the archer whohad spoken. "Rogue," he cried, "does the King's will run here only?Are there no other houses to sack or men to kill, that you must beardme? And favour? You will have little of mine, if you do not budge andtake your vile tail with you! Off! Or must I cry 'Tavannes!' and bidmy people sweep you from the streets?"
The foremost rank hesitated, awed by his manner and his name; whilethe rearmost, attracted by the prospect of easier pillage, had goneoff already. The rest wavered; and another and another broke away. Thearcher who had put himself forward saw which way the wind was blowing,and he shrugged his shoulders. "Well, my lord, as you will," he saidsullenly. "All the same I would advise you to close the door and boltand bar. We shall not be the last to call to-day." And he turned hishorse in ill-humour, and forced it, snorting and plunging, through thecrowd.
"Bolt and bar?" Tavannes cried after him in fury. "See you my answerto that!" And turning on the threshold, "Within there!" he cried."Open the shutters and set lights, and the table! Light, I say; light!And lay on quickly, if you value your lives! And throw open, for I supwith your mistress tonight, if it rain blood without! Do you hear me,rogues? Set on!"
He flung the last word at the quaking servants; then he turned againto the street. He saw that the crowd was melting, and, looking inTignonville's face, he laughed aloud. "Does Monsieur sup with us?" hesaid. "To complete the party? Or will he choose to sup with ourfriends yonder? It is for him to say. I confess, for my part," with anawful smile, "their hospitality seems a trifle crude, and boisterous."
Tignonville looked behind him and shuddered. The same horde which hadso lately pressed about the door had found a victim lower down thestreet, and, as Tavannes spoke, came driving back along the roadway, amass of tossing lights and leaping, running figures, from the heart ofwhich rose the screams of a creature in torture. So terrible were thesounds that Tignonville leant half swooning against the door-post; andeven the iron heart of Tavannes seemed moved for a moment.
For a moment only: then he looked at his companion, and his lipcurled. "You'll join us, I think?" he said with an undisguised sneer."Then, after you, Monsieur. They are opening the shutters. Doubtlessthe table is laid, and Mademoiselle is expecting us. After you,Monsieur, if you please. A few hours ago I should have gone first, foryou, in this house"--with a sinister smile--"were at home! Now, wehave changed places."
Whatever he meant by the gibe--and some smack of an evil jest lurkedin his tone--he played the host so far as to urge his bewilderedcompanion along the passage and into the living-chamber on the left,where he had seen from without that his orders to light and lay werebeing executed. A dozen candles shone on the board, and lit up theapartment. What the house contained of food and wine had beengot together and set on the table; from the low, wide window,beetle-browed and diamond-paned, which extended the whole length ofthe room and looked on the street at the height of a man's head abovethe roadway, the shutters had been removed--doubtless by trembling andreluctant fingers. To such eyes of passers-by as looked in, from theinferno of driving crowds and gleaming weapons which prevailedoutside--and not outside only, but throughout Paris--the brilliantroom and the laid table must have seemed strange indeed!
To Tignonville, all that had happened, all that was happening, seemeda dream: a dream his entrance under the gentle impulsion of this manwho dominated him; a dream Mademoiselle standing behind the table withblanched face and stony eyes; a dream the cowering servants huddled ina corner beyond her; a dream his silence, her silence, the moment ofwaiting before Count Hannibal spoke.
When he did speak it was to count the servants. "One, two, three,four, five," he said. "And two of them women. Mademoiselle is butpoorly attended. Are there not"--and he turned to her--"some lacking?"
The girl opened her lips twice, but no sound issued. The third time,"Two went out," she muttered in a hoarse, strangled voice, "and havenot returned."
"And have not returned?" he answered, raising his eyebrows. "Then Ifear we must not wait for them. We might wait long!" And turningsharply to the panic-stricken servants, "Go you to your places! Do younot see that Mademoiselle waits to be served?"
The girl shuddered and spoke.
"Do you wish me," she muttered, in the same strangled tone, "to playthis farce--to the end?"
"The end may be better, Mademoiselle, than you think," he answered,bowing. And then to the miserable servants, who hung back afraid toleave the shelter of their mistress's skirts, "To your places!" hecried. "Set Mademoiselle's chair. Are you so remiss on other days? Ifso," with a look of terrible meaning, "you will be the less loss! Now,Mademoiselle, may I have the honour? And when we are at table we cantalk."
He extended his hand, and, obedient to his gesture, she moved to theplace at the head of the table, but without letting her fingers comeinto contact with his. He gave no sign that he noticed this, but hestrode to the place on her right, and signed to Tignonville to takethat on her left. "Will you not be seated?" he continued. For she kepther feet.
She turned her head stiffly, until for the first time her eyes lookedinto his. A shudder more violent than the last shook her. "Had you notbetter--kill us at once?" she whispered. The blood had forsaken evenher lips. Her face was the face of a statue--white, beautiful,lifeless.
"I think not," he said gravely. "Be seated, and let us hope for thebest. And you, sir," he continued, turning to Carlat, "serve yourmistress with wine. She needs it."
The steward filled for her, and then for each of the men, his shakinghand spilling as much as it poured. Nor was this strange. Above thedin and uproar of the street, above the crash of distant doors, abovethe tocsin that still rang from the reeling steeple of St. Germain's,the great bell of the Palais on the island had just begun to hurl itsnote of doom upon the town. A woman crouching at the end of thechamber burst into hysterical weeping, but, at a glance from Tavannes'terrible eye, was mute again.
Tignonville found voice at last. "Have they--killed the Admiral?" hemuttered, his eyes
on the table.
"M. Coligny! An hour ago."
"And Teligny?"
"Him also."
"M. de Rochefoucauld?"
"They are dealing with M. le Comte now, I believe," Tavannes answered."He had his chance, and cast it away." And he began to eat.
The man at the table shuddered. The woman continued to look beforeher, but her lips moved as if she prayed. Suddenly a rush of feet, aroar of voices surged past the window; for a moment the glare of thetorches which danced ruddily on the walls of the room, showed asevered head borne above the multitude on a pike. Mademoiselle, with alow cry, made an effort to rise, but Count Hannibal grasped her wristand she sank back half fainting. Then the nearer clamour sank alittle, and the bells, unchallenged, flung their iron tongues abovethe maddened city. In the east the dawn was growing; soon its greylight would fall on cold hearths, on battered doors and shatteredweapons, on hordes of wretches drunk with greed and hate.
When he could be heard, "What are you going to do with us?" the manasked hoarsely.
"That depends," Count Hannibal replied after a moment's thought.
"On what?"
"On Mademoiselle de Vrillac."
The other's eyes gleamed with passion. He leaned forward. "What hasshe to do with it?" he cried. And he stood up and sat down again in abreath.
Tavannes raised his eyebrows with a blandness that seemed at odds withhis harsh visage. "I will answer that question by another question,"he replied. "How many are there in the house, my friend?"
"You can count."
Tavannes counted again. "Seven?" he said.
Tignonville nodded impatiently.
"Seven lives?"
"Well?"
"Well, Monsieur, you know the King's will?"
"I can guess it," the other replied furiously. And he cursed the King,and the King's mother, calling her Jezebel.
"You can guess it?" Tavannes answered; and then with sudden heat, asif that which he had to say could not be said even by him in coldblood, "Nay, you know it! You heard it from the archer at the door.You heard him say, 'No favour, no quarter for man, for woman, or forchild. So says the King.' You heard it, but you fence with me.Foucauld, with whom his Majesty played to-night, hand to hand and faceto face--Foucauld is dead! And you think to live? You?" he continued,lashing himself into passion. "I know not by what chance you camewhere I saw you an hour gone, nor by what chance you came by that andthat"--pointing with accusing finger to the badges the Huguenot wore."But this I know! I have but to cry your name from yonder casement,nay, Monsieur, I have but to stand aside when the mob go their roundsfrom house to house, as they will go presently, and you will perish ascertainly as you have hitherto escaped!"
For the second time Mademoiselle turned and looked at him. "Then," shewhispered, with white lips, "to what end this--mockery?"
"To the end that seven lives may be saved, Mademoiselle," he answered,bowing.
"At a price?" she muttered.
"At a price," he answered. "A price which women do not find it hard topay--at Court. 'Tis paid every day for pleasure or a whim, for rank orthe _entree_, for robes and gewgaws. Few, Mademoiselle, are privilegedto buy a life; still fewer, seven!"
She began to tremble. "I would rather die--seven times!" she cried,her voice quivering. And she tried to rise, but sat down again.
"And these?" he said, indicating the servants.
"Far, far rather!" she repeated passionately.
"And Monsieur? And Monsieur!" he urged with stern persistence, whilehis eyes passed lightly from her to Tignonville and back to her again,their depths inscrutable. "If you love Monsieur, Mademoiselle, and Ibelieve you do----"
"I can die with him!" she cried.
"And he with you!"
She writhed in her chair.
"And he with you?" Count Hannibal repeated, with emphasis; and hethrust forward his head. "For that is the question. Think, think,Mademoiselle. It is in my power to save from death him whom you love;to save you; to save this _canaille_, if it so please you. It is in mypower to save him, to save you, to save all; and I will save all--at aprice! If, on the other hand, you deny me that price, I will ascertainly leave all to perish, as perish they will, before the sunthat is now rising sets to-night!"
Mademoiselle looked straight before her, the flicker of a dreadfulprescience in her eyes. "And the price?" she muttered. "The price?"
"You, Mademoiselle."
"Yes, you! Nay, why fence with me?" he continued gently. "You knew it,you have said it. You have read it in my eyes these seven days."
She did not speak, move, or seem to breathe. As he said, she hadforeseen, she had known the answer. But Tignonville, it seemed, hadnot. He sprang to his feet. "M. de Tavannes," he cried, "you are avillain!"
"Monsieur?"
"You are a villain! But you shall pay for this!" the young mancontinued vehemently. "You shall not leave this room alive! You shallpay for this insult!"
"Insult?" Tavannes answered in apparent surprise; and then, as ifcomprehension broke upon him, "Ah! Monsieur mistakes me," he said,with a generous sweep of his hand. "And Mademoiselle also, perhaps?Oh! be content, she shall have bell, book, and candle; she shall betied as tight as Holy Church can tie her! Or, if she please, and onesurvive, she shall have a priest of her own church--you call it achurch? She shall have whichever of the two will serve her better.'Tis one to me! But for paying me, Monsieur," he continued with ironyin voice and manner; "when, I pray you? In Eternity! For if you refusemy offer, you have done with time. Now? I have but to sound thiswhistle"--he touched a silver whistle which hung at his breast--"andthere are those within hearing will do your business before you maketwo passes. Dismiss the notion, sir, and understand. You are in mypower. Paris runs with blood, as noble as yours, as innocent as hers.If you would not perish with the rest, decide! And quickly! For whatyou have seen are but the forerunners, what you have heard are but thegentle whispers that predict the gale. Do not parley too long; so longthat even I may no longer save you."
"I would rather die!" Mademoiselle moaned, her face covered. "I wouldrather die!"
"And see him die?" he answered quietly. "And see these die? Think,think, child!"
"You will not do it!" she gasped. She shook from head to foot.
"I shall do nothing," he answered firmly. "I shall but leave you toyour fate, and these to theirs. In the King's teeth I dare save mywife and her people; but no others. You must choose--and quickly."
One of the frightened women--it was Mademoiselle's tiring-maid, a girlcalled Javette--made a movement, as if to throw herself at hermistress's feet. Tignonville drove her to her place with a word. Heturned to Count Hannibal. "But, M. le Comte," he said, "you must bemad! Mad, to wish to marry her in this way! You do not love her. Youdo not want her. What is she to you more than other women?"
"What is she to you more than other women?" Tavannes retorted in atone so sharp and incisive that Tignonville started, and a faint touchof colour crept into the wan cheek of the girl, who sat between them,the prize of the contest. "What is she more to you than other women?Is she more? And yet--you want her!"
"She is more to me," Tignonville answered.
"Is she?" the other retorted, with a ring of keen meaning. "Is she?But we bandy words and the storm is rising, as I warned you it wouldrise. Enough for you that I _do_ want her. Enough for you that I willhave her. She shall be the wife, the willing wife, of Hannibal deTavannes--or I leave her to her fate, and you to yours!"
"Ah, God!" she moaned. "The willing wife!"
"Ay, Mademoiselle, the willing wife," he answered sternly. "Or noman's wife!"