Bardelys the Magnificent, Rafael Sabatini [best free e book reader .txt] 📗

to let those words sink well into

her understanding; then, “If I were to set him at liberty,

mademoiselle, if I were to spirit him out of prison in the night,

bribing his jailers to keep silent and binding him by oath to quit

France at once and never to betray me, I should be, myself, guilty

of high treason. Thus alone could the thing be done, and you will

see, mademoiselle, that by doing it I should be endangering my neck.”

 

There was an ineffable undercurrent of meaning in his words - an

intangible suggestion that he might be bribed to do all this to

which he so vaguely alluded.

 

“I understand, monsieur,” she answered, choking - “I understand that

it would be too much to ask of you.”

 

“It would be much, mademoiselle,” he returned quickly, and his voice

was now subdued and invested with an odd quiver. “But nothing that

your lips might ask of me and that it might lie in the power of

mortal man to do, would be too much!”

 

“You mean?” she cried, a catch in her breath. Had she guessed - as

I, without sight of her face, had guessed - what was to follow? My

gorge was rising fast. I clenched my hands, and by an effort I

restrained myself to learn that I had guessed aright.

 

“Some two months ago,” he said, “I journeyed to Lavedan, as you may

remember. I saw you, mademoiselle - for a brief while only, it is

true - and ever since I have seen nothing else but you.” His voice

went a shade lower, and passion throbbed in his words.

 

She, too, perceived it, for the grating of a chair informed me that

she had risen.

 

“Not now, monsieur - not now!” she exclaimed. “This is not the

season. I beg of you think of my desolation.”

 

“I do, mademoiselle, and I respect your grief, and, with all my

heart, believe me, I share it. Yet this is the season, and if you

have this man’s interests at heart, you will hear me to the end.”

 

Through all the imperiousness of his tone an odd note of respect -

real or assumed - was sounding.

 

“If you suffer, mademoiselle, believe me that I suffer also, and if

I make you suffer more by what I say, I beg that you will think how

what you have said, how the very motive of your presence here, has

made me suffer. Do you know, mademoiselle, what it is to be torn

by jealousy? Can you imagine it? If you can, you can imagine also

something of the torture I endured when you confessed to me that you

loved this Lesperon, when you interceded for his life. Mademoiselle,

I love you - with all my heart and soul I love you. I have loved

you, I think, since the first moment of our meeting at Lavedan, and

to win you there is no risk that I would not take, no danger that I

would not brave.”

 

“Monsieur, I implore you - “

 

“Hear me out, mademoiselle!” he cried. Then in quieter voice he

proceeded: “At present you love this Monsieur de Lesperon—”

 

“I shall always love him! Always, monsieur!”

 

“Wait, wait, wait!” he exclaimed, annoyed by her interruption. “If

he were to live, and you were to wed him and be daily in his company,

I make no doubt your love might endure. But if he were to die, or

if he were to pass into banishment and you were to see him no more,

you would mourn him for a little while, and then - Helas! it is the

way of men and women - time would heal first your sorrow, then your

heart.”

 

“Never, monsieur - oh, never!”

 

“I am older, child, than you are. I know. At present you are

anxious to save his life anxious because you love him, and also

because you betrayed him, and you would not have his death upon

your conscience.” He paused a moment; then raising his voice,

“Mademoiselle,” said he, “I offer you your lover’s life.”

 

“Monsieur, monsieur!” cried the poor child, “I knew you were good!

I knew—”

 

“A moment! Do not misapprehend me. I do not say that I give it

—I offer it.”

 

“But the difference?”

 

“That if you would have it, mademoiselle, you must buy it. I have

said that for you I would brave all dangers. To save your lover, I

brave the scaffold. If I am betrayed, or if the story transpire, my

head will assuredly fall in the place of Lesperon’s. This I will

risk, mademoiselle -I will do it gladly - if you will promise to

become my wife when it is done.”

 

There was a moan from Roxalanne, then silence; then - “Oh, monsieur,

you are pitiless! What bargain is this that you offer me?”

 

“A fair one, surely,” said that son of hell - “a very fair one. The

risk of my life against your hand in marriage.”

 

“If you - if you truly loved me as you say, monsieur,” she reasoned,

“you would serve me without asking guerdon.”

 

“In any other thing I would. But is it fair to ask a man who is

racked by love of you to place another in your arms, and that at the

risk of his own life? Ah, mademoiselle, I am but a man, and I am

subject to human weaknesses. If you will consent, this Lesperon

shall go free, but you must see him no more; and I will carry my

consideration so far as to give you six months in which to overcome

your sorrow, ere I present myself to you again to urge my suit.”

 

“And if I refuse, monsieur?”

 

He sighed.

 

“To the value which I set upon my life you must add my very human

jealousy. From such a combination what can you hope for?”

 

“You mean, in short, that he must die?”

 

“Tomorrow,” was that infernal cheat’s laconic answer.

 

They were silent a little while, then she fell a-sobbing.

 

“Be pitiful, monsieur! Have mercy if you, indeed, love me. Oh, he

must not die! I cannot, I dare not, let him die! Save him, monsieur,

and I will pray for you every night of my life; I will pray for you

to our Holy Mother as I am now praying to you for him.”

 

Lived there the man to resist that innocent, devout appeal? Lived

there one who in answer to such gentle words of love and grief could

obtrude his own coarse passions? It seems there did, for all he

answered was “You know the price, child.”

 

“And God pity me! I must pay it. I must, for if he dies I shall

have his blood upon my conscience!” Then she checked her grief, and

her voice grew almost stern in the restraint she set upon herself.

“If I give you my promise to wed you hereafter - say in six months’

time - what proof will you afford me that he who is detained under

the name of Lesperon shall go free?”

 

I caught the sound of something very like a gasp from the Count.

 

“Remain in Toulouse until tomorrow, and to-night ere he departs he

shall come to take his leave of you. Are you content?”

 

“Be it so, monsieur,” she answered.

 

Then at last I leapt to my feet. I could endure no more. You may

marvel that I had had the heart to endure so much, and to have so

let her suffer that I might satisfy myself how far this scoundrel

Chatellerault would drive his trickster’s bargain.

 

A more impetuous man would have beaten down the partition, or shouted

to her through it the consolation that Chatellerault’s bargain was no

bargain at all, since I was already at large. And that is where a

more impetuous man would have acted upon instinct more wisely than did

I upon reason. Instead, I opened the door, and, crossing the common

room, I flung myself down a passage that I thought must lead to the

chamber in which they were closeted. But in this I was at fault, and

ere I had come upon a waiter and been redirected some precious moments

were lost. He led me back through the common room to a door opening

upon another corridor. He pushed it wide, and I came suddenly face

to face with Chatellerault, still flushed from his recent contest.

 

“You here!” he gasped, his jaw falling, and his cheeks turning pale,

as well they might; for all that he could not dream I had overheard

his bargaining.

 

“We will go back, if you please, Monsieur le Comte.” said I.

 

“Back where?” he asked stupidly.

 

“Back to Mademoiselle. Back to the room you have just quitted.”

And none too gently I pushed him into the corridor again, and so,

in the gloom, I missed the expression of his face.

 

“She is not there,” said he.

 

I laughed shortly.

 

“Nevertheless, we will go back,” I insisted.

 

And so I had my way, and we gained the room where his infamous

traffic had been held. Yet for once he spoke the truth. She was

no longer there.

 

“Where is she?” I demanded angrily.

 

“Gone,” he answered; and when I protested that I had not met her,

“You would not have a lady go by way of the public room, would you?”

he demanded insolently. “She left by the side door into the

courtyard.”

 

“That being so, Monsieur le Comte,” said I quietly, “I will have a

little talk with you before going after her.” And I carefully closed

the door.