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“And

yet - it is a difficult thing to tell you. I understand now much

that I had not dreamt of. You - you have no suspicion of how you

came to be arrested?”

 

“For my alleged participation in the late rebellion?”

 

“Yes, yes. But who gave the information of your whereabouts? Who

told the Keeper of the Seals where you were to be found?”

 

“Oh, that?” I answered easily. “Why, I never doubted it. It was

the coxcomb Saint-Eustache. I whipped him—”

 

I stopped short. There was something in Marsac’s black face,

something in his glance, that forced the unspoken truth upon my mind.

 

“Mother in heaven!” I cried. “Do you mean that it was Mademoiselle

de Lavedan?”

 

He bowed his head in silence. Did she hate me, then, so much as

that? Would nothing less than my death appease her, and had I

utterly crushed the love that for a little while she had borne me,

that she could bring herself to hand me over to the headsman?

 

God! What a stab was that! It turned me sick with grief - aye, and

with some rage not against her, oh, not against her; against the

fates that had brought such things to pass.

 

I controlled myself while their eyes were yet upon me. I went to

the door and held it open for them, and they, perceiving something

of my disorder, were courteous enough to omit the protracted

leave-takings that under other auspices there might have been.

Marsac paused a moment on the threshold as if he would have offered

me some word of comfort. Then, perceiving, perhaps, how banal must

be all comfort that was of words alone, and how it might but increase

the anger of the wound it was meant to balm, he sighed a simple

“Adieu, monsieur!” and went his way.

 

When they were gone, I returned to the table, and, sitting down,

I buried my head in my arms, and there I lay, a prey to the most

poignant grief that in all my easy, fortunate life I had ever known.

That she should have done this thing! That the woman I loved, the

pure, sweet, innocent girl that I had wooed so ardently in my

unworthiness at Lavedan, should have stooped to such an act of

betrayal! To what had I not reduced her, since such things

could be!

 

Then, out of my despair grew comfort, slowly at first, and more

vigorously anon. The sudden shock of the news had robbed me of some

of my wit, and had warped my reasoning. Later, as the pain of the

blow grew duller, I came to reflect that what she had done was but

a proof - an overwhelming proof - of how deeply she had cared. Such

hatred as this can be but born of a great love; reaction is ever to

be measured by the action that occasions it, and a great revulsion

can only come of a great affection. Had she been indifferent to me,

or had she but entertained for me a passing liking, she would not

have suffered so.

 

And so I came to realize how cruel must have been the pang that had

driven her to this. But she had loved me; aye, and she loved me

still, for all that she thought she hated, and for all that she had

acted as if she hated. But even if I were wrong - even if she did

hate me - what a fresh revulsion would not be hers when anon she

learnt that - whatever my sins - I had not played lightly with her

love; that I was not, as she had imagined, the betrothed of another

woman!

 

The thought fired me like wine. I was no longer listless - no longer

indifferent as to whether I lived or died. I must live. I must

enlighten the Keeper of the Seals and the judges at Toulouse

concerning my identity. Why, indeed, had I ever wavered? Bardelys

the Magnificent must come to life again, and then— What then?

 

As suddenly as I had been exalted was I cast down. There was a

rumour abroad that Bardelys was dead. In the wake of that rumour

I shrewdly guessed that the report of the wager that had brought him

into Languedoc would not be slow to follow. What then? Would she

love me any the better? Would she hate me any the less? If now she

was wounded by the belief that I had made sport of her love, would

not that same belief be with her again when she came to know the

truth?

 

Aye, the tangle was a grievous one. Yet I took heart. My old

resolve returned to me, and I saw the need for urgency - in that

alone could lie now my redemption in her eyes. My wager must be

paid before I again repaired to her, for all that it should leave

me poor indeed. In the mean while, I prayed God that she might not

hear of it ere I returned to tell her.

CHAPTER XI

THE KING’S COMMISSIONER

 

For that most amiable of Gascon cadets, Monsieur de Castelroux, I

have naught but the highest praise. In his every dealing with me

he revealed himself so very gallant, generous, and high-minded a

gentleman that it was little short of a pleasure to be his prisoner.

He made no inquiries touching the nature of my interview with those

two gentlemen at the Hotel de la Couronne, and when at the moment

of leaving I requested him to deliver a packet to the taller of

those same two he did so without comment or question. That packet

contained the portrait of Mademoiselle de Marsac, but on the inner

wrapper was a note requesting Lesperon not to open it until he

should be in Spain.

 

Neither Marsac nor Lesperon did I see again before we resumed our

journey to Toulouse.

 

At the moment of setting out a curious incident occurred.

Castelroux’s company of dragoons had ridden into the courtyard as

we were mounting. They lined up under their lieutenant’s command,

to allow us to pass; but as we reached the portecochere we were

delayed for a moment by a travelling-carriage, entering for relays,

and coming, apparently, from Toulouse. Castelroux and I backed our

horses until we were in the midst of the dragoons, and so we stood

while the vehicle passed in. As it went by, one of the leather

curtains was drawn back, and my heart was quickened by the sight of

a pale girl face, with eyes of blue, and brown curls lying upon the

slender neck. Her glance lighted on me, swordless and in the midst

of that company of troopers, and I bowed low upon the withers of

my horse, doffing my hat in distant salutation.

 

The curtain dropped again, and eclipsed the face of the woman that

had betrayed me. With my mind full of wild surmisings as to what

emotions might have awakened in her upon beholding me, I rode away

in silence at Monsieur de Castelroux’s side. Had she experienced

any remorse? Any shame? Whether or not such feelings had been

aroused at sight of me, it certainly would not be long ere she

experienced them, for at the Hotel de la Couronne were those who

would enlighten her.

 

The contemplation of the remorseful grief that might anon beset her

when she came to ponder the truth of matters, and, with that truth,

those things that at Lavedan I had uttered, filled me presently

with regret and pity. I grew impatient to reach Toulouse and tell

the judges of the mistake that there had been. My name could not

be unknown to them, and the very mention of it, I thought, should

suffice to give them pause and lead them to make inquiries before

sending me to the scaffold. Yet I was not without uneasiness, for

the summariness with which Castelroux had informed me they were in

the habit of dealing with those accused of high treason occasioned

me some apprehensive pangs.

 

This apprehension led me to converse with my captor touching those

trials, seeking to gather from him who were the judges. I learnt

then that besides the ordinary Tribunal, a Commissioner had been

dispatched by His Majesty, and was hourly expected to arrive at

Toulouse. It would be his mission to supervise and direct the

inquiries that were taking place. It was said, he added, that the

King himself was on his way thither, to be present at the trial of

Monsieur le Duc de Montmorency. But he was travelling by easy

stages, and was not yet expected for some days. My heart, which

had leapt at the news, as suddenly sank again with the consideration

that I should probably be disposed of before the King’s arrival.

It would behoove me, therefore, to look elsewhere for help and for

some one to swear to my identity.

 

“Do you know the name of this King’s Commissioner?” I asked.

 

“It is a certain Comte de Chatellerault, a gentleman man said to

stand very high in His Majesty’s favour.”

 

“Chatellerault!” I cried in wondering joy.

 

“You know him?”

 

“Most excellently!” I laughed. “We are very intimately acquainted.”

 

“Why, then, monsieur, I augur you this gentleman’s friendship, and

that it may pilot you through your trouble. Although—” Being

mercifully minded, he stopped short.

 

But I laughed easily. “Indeed, my dear Captain, I think it will,”

said I; “although friendship in this world is a thing of which the

unfortunate know little.”

 

But I rejoiced too soon, as you shall hear.

 

We rode diligently on, our way lying along the fertile banks of the

Garonne, now yellow with the rustling corn. Towards evening we made

our last halt at Fenouillet, whence a couple of hours’ riding should

bring us to Toulouse.

 

At the posthouse we overtook a carriage that seemingly had halted

for relays, but upon which I scarce bestowed a glance as I alighted.

 

Whilst Castelroux went to arrange for fresh horses, I strode into

the common room, and there for some moments I stood discussing the

viands with our host. When at last I had resolved that a cold pasty

and a bottle of Armagnac would satisfy our wants, I looked about me

to take survey of those in the room. One group in a remote corner

suddenly riveted my attention to such a degree that I remained deaf

to the voice of Castelroux, who had just entered, and who stood now

beside me. In the centre of this group was the Comte de Chatellerault

himself, a thick-set, sombre figure, dressed with that funereal

magnificence he affected.

 

But it was not the sight of him that filled me with amazement. For

that, Castelroux’s information had prepared me, and I well understood

in what capacity he was there. My surprise sprang rather from the

fact that amongst the half-dozen gentlemen about him - and evidently

in attendance - I beheld the Chevalier de Saint-Eustache. Now,

knowing as I did, the Chevalier’s treasonable leanings, there was

ample cause for my astonishment at finding him in such company.

Apparently, too, he was on very intimate terms with the Count, for

in raising my glance I had caught him in the act of leaning over to

whisper familiarly in Chatellerault’s ear.

 

Their eyes - indeed, for that matter the eyes of the entire company

—were turned in my direction.

 

Perhaps it was not a surprising thing that Chatellerault should gaze

upon me in that curious fashion, for was it not probable that he

had heard that I was dead? Besides, the fact that I was without a

sword, and that at my side stood a King’s officer,

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