CHAPTER XXII.
NOBLESSE OBLIGE.
Yet he was not the first to speak. One of the men behind him took astep forward, and cried, "That is the man! See, he still has thegun-barrel."
"Seize him, then," M. de St. Alais replied. "And take him from here!Monsieur," he continued, addressing me grimly, and with a grim eye,"whoever you are, when you undertook to be a spy you counted the cost,I suppose? Take him away, my men!"
Two of the fellows strode forward, and in a moment seized my arms; andin the surprise of M. de St. Alais' appearance and the astonishmenthis words caused me, I made no resistance. But in such emergencies themind works quickly, and in a trice I recovered myself. "This isnonsense, M. de St. Alais!" I said. "You know well that I am no spy.You know why I am here. And for the matter of that----"
"I know nothing!" he answered.
"But----"
"I know nothing, I say!" he repeated, with a mocking gesture. "Except,Monsieur, that we find you here in a monk's dress, when you areclearly no monk. You had better have tried to swim the Rhone at flood,than entered this house to-night--I tell you that! Now away with him!His case will be dealt with below."
But this was too much. I wrested my hands from the men who held me,and sprang back. "You lie!" I cried. "You know who I am, and why I amhere!"
"I do not know you," he answered stubbornly. "Nor do I know why youare here. I once knew a man like you; that is true. But he was agentleman, and would have died before he would have saved himself by alie--by a trumped-up tale. Take him away. He has frightenedMademoiselle to death. I suppose he found the door open, and slippedin, and thought himself safe."
At last I understood what he meant, and that in his passion he wouldsacrifice one rather than bring in his sister's name. Nay, I saw more;that he viewed with a cruel exultation the dilemma in which he hadplaced me; and my brow grew damp, as I looked round wildly, trying tosolve the question. I had the sounds of street fighting still in myears; I knew that men staking all in such a strife owned few scruplesand scant mercy. I could see that this man in particular was maddenedby the losses and humiliations which he had suffered; and I stood inthe way of his schemes. The risk existed, therefore, and was no merethreat; it seemed foolish quixotism to run it.
And yet--and yet I hesitated. I even let the men urge me half-wayto the door; and then--heaven knows what I should have done or whetherI could have seen my way plainly--the knot was cut for me. Witha scream, Denise, who since her brother's entrance had leaned,half-fainting, against the wall, sprang forward, and seized him by thearm.
"No, no!" she cried in a choked voice. "No! You will not, you will notdo this! Have pity, have mercy! I----"
"Mademoiselle!" he said, cutting her short quietly, but with a gleamof rage in his eyes. "You are overwrought, and forget yourself. Thescene has been too much for you. Here!" he continued sharply to themaid, "take care of your mistress. The man is a spy, and not worthy ofher pity."
But Denise clung to him. "He is no spy!" she cried, in a voice thatwent to my heart. "He is no spy, and you know it!"
"Hush, girl! Be silent!" he answered furiously.
But he had not counted on a change in her, beside which the change inhim was petty. "I will not!" she answered, "I will not!" and to myastonishment, releasing the arm to which she had hitherto clung, andshaking back from her face the hair which her violent movements hadloosened, she stood out and defied him. "I will not!" she cried. "Heis no spy, and you know it, Monsieur! He is my lover," she continued,with a superb gesture, "and he came to see me. Do you understand? Hewas contracted to me, and he came to see me!"
"Girl, are you mad?" he snarled in the breathless hush of the room,the hush that followed as all looked at her.
"I am not mad," she answered, her eyes burning in her white face.
"Then if you feel no shame do you feel no fear?" he retorted in aterrible voice.
"No!" she cried. "For I love! And I love him."
I will not say what I felt when I heard that, myself helpless. For onething, I was in so great a rage I scarcely knew what I felt; and foranother, the words were barely spoken before M. le Marquis seized thegirl roughly by the waist, and dragged her, screaming and resisting,to the other end of the room.
This was the signal for a scene indescribable. I sprang forward toprotect her; in an instant the three men flung themselves upon me, andbore me by sheer weight towards the door. St. Alais, foaming withrage, shouted to them to remove me, while I called him coward, andcursed him and strove desperately to get at him. For a moment I madehead against them all, though they were three to one; the maid'sscreaming added to the uproar. Then the odds prevailed; and in aminute they had me out, and had closed the door on her and her cries.
I was panting, breathless, furious. But the moment it was done and thedoor shut, a kind of calm fell upon us. The men relaxed their hold onme, and stood looking at me quietly; while I leaned against the wall,and glowered at them. Then, "There, Monsieur, have no more of that!"one of them said civilly enough. "Go peaceably, and we will be easywith you; otherwise----"
"He is a cowardly hound!" I cried with a sob.
"Softly, Monsieur, softly."
There were five of them, for two had remained at the door. The passagewas dark, but they had a lantern, and we waited in silence two orthree minutes. Then the door opened a few inches, and the man whoseemed to be the leader went to it, and having received his orders,returned.
"Forward!" he said. "In No. 6. And do you, Petitot, fetch the key."
The man named went off quickly, and we followed more slowly along thecorridor; the steady tramp of my guards, as they marched beside me,awaking sullen echoes that rolled away before us. The yellow light ofthe lantern showed a white-washed wall on either side, broken on theright hand by a dull line of doors, as of cells. We halted presentlybefore one of these, and I thought that I was to be confined there;and my courage rose, for I should still be near Denise. But the door,when opened, disclosed only a little staircase which we descended insingle file, and so reached a bare corridor similar to that above.Half-way along this we stopped again, beside an open window, throughwhich the night wind came in so strongly as to stir the hair, andforce the man who carried the lantern to shield the light underhis skirts. And not the night wind only; with it entered all thenoises of the night and the disturbed city; hoarse cries and cheers,and the shrill monotonous jangle of bells, and now and then apistol-shot--noises that told only too eloquently what was passingunder the black veil that hid the chaos of streets and houses belowus. Nay, in one place the veil was rent, and through the gap a ruddycolumn poured up from the roofs, dispersing sparks--the hot glare ofsome great fire, that blazing in the heart of the city, seemed to makethe sky sharer in the deeds and horrors that lay beneath it.
The men with me pressed to the window, and peered through it, andstrained eyes and ears; and little wonder. Little wonder, too, thatthe man who was responsible for all, and had staked all, walked theroof above with tireless steps. For the struggle below was the onegreat struggle of the world, the struggle that never ceases betweenthe old and the new: and it was being fought as it had been fought inNimes for centuries, savagely, ruthlessly, over kennels running withblood. Nor could the issue be told; only, that as it was here, it waslikely to be through half of France. We who stood at that window,looked into the darkness with actual eyes; but across the border atTurin, and nearer at Sommieres and Montpellier, thousands of Frenchmenbearing the greatest names of France, watched also--watched with facesturned to Nimes, and hearts as anxious as ours.
I gathered from the talk of those round me, that M. Froment had seizedthe Arenes, and garrisoned it, and that the flames we saw were thoseof one of the Protestant churches; that as yet the patriots, taken bysurprise, made little resistance, and that if the Reds could hold fortwenty-four hours longer what they had seized, the arrival of thetroops from Montpellier would then secure all, and at the same timestamp the movement with
the approval of the highest parties.
"But it was a near thing," one of the men muttered. "If we hadnot been at their throats to-night, they would have been at oursto-morrow!"
"And now, not half the companies have turned out."
"But the villages will come in in the morning," a third cried eagerly."They are to toll all the bells from here to the Rhone."
"Ay, but what if the Cevennols come in first? What then, man?"
No one had an answer to this, and all stood watching eagerly, untilthe sound of footsteps approaching along the passage caused the men todraw in their heads. "Here is the key," said the leader. "Now,Monsieur!"
But it was not the key that disturbed us, nor Petitot, who had beensent for it, but a very tall man, cloaked, and wearing his hat, whocame hastily along the corridor with three or four behind him. As heapproached he called out, "Is Buzeaud here?"
The man who had spoken before stood out respectfully. "Yes, Monsieur."
"Take half a dozen men, the stoutest you have downstairs," the newcomer answered--it was Froment himself--"and get as many more from theVierge, and barricade the street leading beside the barracks to theArsenal. You will find plenty of helpers. And occupy some of thehouses so as to command the street. And--But what is this?" hecontinued, breaking off sharply, as his eyes, passing over the group,stopped at me. "How does this gentleman come here? And in this dress?"
"M. le Marquis arrested him--upstairs."
"M. le Marquis?"
"Yes, Monsieur, and ordered him to be confined in No. 6 for thepresent."
"Ah!"
"As a spy."
M. Froment whistled softly, and for a moment we looked at one another.The wavering light of the lanterns, and perhaps the tension of theman's feelings, deepened the harsh lines of his massive features, anddarkened the shadows about his eyes and mouth; but presently he drew adeep breath, and smiled, as if something whimsical in the situationstruck him. "So we meet again, M. le Vicomte," he said with that. "Iremember now that I have something of yours. You have come for it, Isuppose?"
"Yes, Monsieur, I have come for it," I said defiantly, giving him backlook for look; and I saw that he understood.
"And M. le Marquis found you upstairs?"
"Yes."
"Ah!" For a moment he seemed to reflect. Then, turning to themen. "Well, you can go, Buzeaud. I will be answerable for thisgentleman--who had better remove that masquerade. And do you," hecontinued, addressing the two or three who had come with him, "waitfor me above. Tell M. Flandrin--it is my last word--that whateverhappens the Mayor must not raise the flag for the troops. He may tellhim what he pleases from me--that I will hang him from the highestwindow of the tower, if he likes--but it must not be done. Youunderstand?"
"Yes, Monsieur."
"Then go. I will be with you presently."
They went, leaving a lantern on the floor; and in a moment Froment andI were alone. I stood expectant, but he did not look at me. Instead,he turned to the open window, and leaning on the sill, gazed into thenight, and so remained for some time silent; whether the orders he hadjust given had really diverted his thoughts into another channel, orhe had not made up his mind how to treat me, I cannot determine. Morethan once I heard him sigh, however; and at last he said abruptly,"Only three companies have risen?"
I do not know what moved me, but I answered in the same spirit. "Outof how many?" I said coolly.
"Thirteen," he answered. "We are out-numbered. But we moved first, wehave the upper hand, and we must keep it. And if the villagers come into-morrow----"
"And the Cevennols do not."
"Yes; and if the officers can hold the Guienne regiment withinbarracks, and the Mayor does not hoist the flag, calling them out, andthe Calvinists do not surprise the Arsenal--I think we may be able todo so."
"But the chances are?"
"Against us. The more need, Monsieur"--for the first time he turnedand looked at me with a sort of dark pride glowing in his face--"of aman! For--do you know what we are fighting for down there? France!France!" he continued bitterly, and letting his emotion appear, "and Ihave a few hundred cutthroats and rascals and shavelings to do thework, while all the time your fine gentlemen lie safe and warm acrossthe frontier, waiting to see what will happen! And I run risks, andthey hold the stakes! I kill the bear, and they take the skin. Theyare safe, and if I fail I hang like Favras! Faugh! It is enough tomake a man turn patriot and cry '_Vive la Nation!_'"
He did not wait for my answer, but impatiently snatching up thelantern, he made a sign to me to follow him, and led the way down thepassage. He had said not a word of my presence in the house, of myposition, of Mademoiselle St. Alais, or how he meant to deal with me;and at the door, not knowing what was in his mind, I touched hisshoulder and stopped him.
"Pardon me," I said, with as much dignity as I could assume, "but Ishould like to know what you are going to do with me, Monsieur. I neednot tell you that I did not enter this house as a spy----"
"You need tell me nothing," he answered, cutting me short withrudeness. "And for what I am going to do with you, it can be told inhalf a dozen words. I am going to keep you by me, that if the worstcomes of this--in which event I am not likely to see the week out--youmay protect Mademoiselle de St. Alais and convey her to a place ofsafety. To that end your commission shall be restored to you; I haveit safe. If, on the other hand, we hold our own, and light the firethat shall burn up these cold-blooded _pedants la bas_, then, M. leVicomte--I shall have a word to say to you. And we will talk of thematter as gentlemen."
For a moment I stood dumb with astonishment. We were at the door ofthe little staircase--by which I had descended--when he said this; andas he spoke the last word, he turned, as expecting no answer, andopened it, and set his foot on the lowest stair, casting the light ofthe lantern before him. I plucked him by the sleeve, and he turned,and faced me.
"M. Froment!" I muttered. And then for the life of me I could say nomore.
"There is no need for words," he said grandly.
"Are you sure--that you know all!" I muttered.
"I am sure that she loves you, and that she does not love me," heanswered with a curling lip and a ring of scorn in his voice. "Andbesides that, I am sure of one thing only."
"Yes?"
"That within forty-eight hours blood will flow in every street ofNimes, and Froment, the bourgeois, will be Froment le Baron--ornothing! In the former case, we will talk. In the latter," and heshrugged his shoulders with a gesture a little theatrical, "it willnot matter."
With the word he turned to the stairs, and I followed him up them andacross the upper corridor, and by the outer staircase, where I hadevaded my guide, and so to the roof, and from it by a short woodenladder to the leads of a tower; whence we overlooked, lying below us,all the dim black chaos of Nimes, here rising in giant forms, ratherfelt than seen, there a medley of hot lights and deep shadows, throwninto relief by the glare of the burning church. In three places Ipicked out a cresset shining, high up in the sky, as it were; one onthe rim of the Arenes, another on the roof of a distant church, athird on a tower beyond the town. But for the most part the town wasnow at rest. The riot had died down, the bells were silent, the windblew salt from the sea and cooled our faces.
There were a dozen cloaked figures on the leads, some gazing down insilence, others walking to and fro, talking together; but in thedarkness it was impossible to recognise any one. Froment, afterreceiving one or two reports, withdrew to the outer side of the toweroverlooking the country, and walked there alone, his head bowed, andhis hands behind him, a desire to preserve his dignity having more todo with this, or I was mistaken, than any longing for solitude. Still,the others respected his wishes, and following their example I seatedmyself in an embrasure of the battlements, whence the fire, nowgrowing pale, could be seen.
What were the others' thoughts I cannot say. A muttered word apprisedme that Louis St. Alais was in command at the Arenes; and that M. leMarquis waited only until success was assured t
o start for Sommieres,whence the commandant had promised a regiment of horse should Fromentbe able to hold his own without them. The arrangement seemed to me tobe of the strangest; but the Emigres, fearful of compromising theKing, and warned by the fate of Favras--who, deserted by his party,had suffered for a similar conspiracy a few months before--werenothing if not timid. And if those round me felt any indignation, theydid not express it.
The majority, however, were silent, or spoke only when some movementin the town, some outcry or alarm, drew from them a few eager words;and for myself, my thoughts were neither of the struggle below--whereboth parties lay watching each other and waiting for the day--nor ofthe morrow, nor even of Denise, but of Froment himself. If the aim ofthe man had been to impress me, he had succeeded. Seated there in thedarkness, I felt his influence strong upon me; I felt the crisis asand because he felt it. I thrilled with the excitement of thegambler's last stake, because he had thrown the dice. I stood on thegiddy point on which he stood, and looked into the dark future, andtrembled for and with him. My eyes turned from others, andinvoluntarily sought his tall figure where he walked alone; with aslittle will on my part I paid him the homage due to the man who standsunmoved on the brink, master of his soul, though death yawns for him.
About midnight there was a general movement to descend. I had eatennothing for twelve hours, and I had done much; and, notwithstandingthe dubious position in which I stood, appetite bade me go with therest. I went, therefore; and, following the stream, found myself aminute later on the threshold of a long room, brilliantly lit withlamps, and displaying tables laid with covers for sixty or more. Ifancied that at the farther end of the apartment, and through aninterval in the crowd of men before me, I caught a glimpse of women,of jewels, of flashing eyes, and a waving fan; and if anything couldhave added to the bewildering abruptness of the change from the dark,wind-swept leads above to the gay and splendid scene before me it wasthis. But I had scant time for reflection. Though I did not advancefar, the press, which separated me from the upper end of the room,melted quickly, as one after another took his seat amid a hum ofconversation; and in a moment I found myself gazing straight atDenise, who, white and wan, with a pitiful look in her eyes, satbeside her mother at the uppermost table, a picture of silent woe.Madame Catinot and two or three gentlemen and as many ladies wereseated with them.
Whether my eyes drew hers to me, or she glanced that way by chance, ina moment she looked at me, and rose to her feet with a low gaspingcry, that I felt rather than heard. It was enough to lead Madame St.Alais' eyes to me, and she too cried out; and in a trice, while a fewbetween us still talked unconscious, and the servants glided about, Ifound all at that farther table staring at me, and myself the focus ofthe room. Just then, unluckily, M. St. Alais, rather late, came in; ofcourse, he too saw me. I heard an oath behind me, but I was intent onthe farther table and Mademoiselle, and it was not until he laid hishand on my arm that I turned sharply and saw him.
"Monsieur!" he cried, with another oath--and I saw that he was almostchoking with rage--with rage and surprise. "This is too much."
I looked at him in silence. The position was so perplexing that Icould not grasp it.
"How do I find you here?" he continued with violence and in a voicethat drew every eye in the room to me. He was white with anger. He hadleft me a prisoner, he found me a guest.
"I hardly know myself," I answered. "But----"
"I do," said a voice behind M. St. Alais. "If you wish to know,Marquis, M. de Saux is here at my invitation."
The speaker was Froment, who had just entered the room. St. Alaisturned, as if he had been stabbed. "Then I am not!" he cried.
"That is as you please," Froment said steadfastly.
"It is--and I do not please!" the Marquis retorted, with a scornfulglance, and in a tone that rang through the room. "I do not please!"
As I heard him, and felt myself the centre, under the lights,of all those eyes, I could have fancied that I was again in the St.Alais' _salon_, listening to the futile oath of the sword; and thatthree-quarters of a year had not elapsed since that beginning of allour troubles, But in a moment Froment's voice roused me from thedream.
"Very well," he said gravely. "But I think that you forget----"
"It is you who forget," St. Alais cried wildly. "Or you do notunderstand--or know--that this gentleman----"
"I forget nothing!" Froment replied with a darkening face. "Nothing,except that we are keeping my guests waiting. Least of all, do Iforget the aid, Monsieur, which you have hitherto rendered me. But, M.le Marquis," he continued, with dignity, "it is mine to commandto-night, and it is for me to make dispositions. I have made them, andI must ask you to comply with them. I know that you will not fail meat a pinch. I know, and these gentlemen know, that in misfortune youwould be my helper; but I believe also that, all going well, as itdoes, you will not throw unnecessary obstacles in my way. Come,Monsieur; this gentleman will not refuse to sit here. And we will sitat Madame's table. Oblige me."
M. St. Alais' face was like night, but the other was a man, and histone was strenuous as well as courteous; and slowly and haughtily M.le Marquis, who, I think, had never before in his life given way,followed him to the farther end of the room. Left alone, I sat downwhere I was, eyed curiously by those round me; and myself, findingsomething still more curious in this strange banquet while Nimeswatched; this midnight merriment, while the dead still lay in thestreets, and the air quivered, and all the world of night hung,listening for that which was to come.