THE CONVERSION OF CHANOT
"The gentleman has perfectly recovered," he announced with sympathetic
gravity in answer to Alida's questions. "Matteo of Arqua has long been
subject to such attacks, but the best medical advice agrees that they
have lost force of late, and, in fact, are not likely again to recur. As
for Messieurs, the gentlemen who have taken him for an airing, they have
business which calls them away before the morning, so they will not be
able to return. I make their apologies. They came with us--yes--for
safety, but they were not quite of our world, Chardon's and mine--eh,
Chardon?"
Chardon mutely acquiesced, and Chanot sat down beside Alida, who, with a
gesture of gratitude, gave him her hand.
"He frightened me," she said, smiling gratefully, "that man from Arqua.
He has the Evil Eye. Thank you for taking him away. Ugh!--I can feel his
hands upon me still."
Chanot kept the little hand with the silver ring upon it in both of his.
He bent and kissed it reverently. As he did so the door opened and there
stood in the dark passage-way a startling figure. It was Keller Bey, his
head wrapped about with bandages like cere cloths, his reddish white
beard shaggy and unkempt, his arm bandaged, and his dressing-gown frayed
and tarnished. But in his eyes the fire of fever burned like the braise
of a Yule log, dull and ominous.
With one lean finger he pointed to Chanot as he sat by the table. He
called him by name.
"What do you here, bandit and traitor?" he demanded. "But for you there
would have been peace in Aramon, the best of governments, and--you broke
it all up. Touch not the hand of the daughter of kings! There is blood
upon your own, sower of the wind, assassin, wild ass of the desert!"
Here he leaped into Arabic, understood only by Alida and Gordon Cawdor.
"Go--get hence, hound!" he thundered. "You have done enough evil--would
you pursue me even to this quiet place?"
"Hush, father!" said Alida, going hastily to his side; "he has saved my
life--perhaps all our lives."
"He is my enemy!"
"He is my friend!"
As Alida said this, she turned and smiled upon Chanot. The young man
repressed a groan.
"If I had known," he muttered, "ah, if I had known. But it is too late."
Linn had been watching her time, and now, by a swift intervention, got
Keller Bey out of the library and back to his own room. He had in fact
missed her presence and wandered out in search. Then, at sight of the
arch-enemy of his ideal rule, memory had returned to him.
After the departure of Keller Bey my father left the room to assure
himself that all was well in the sick man's chamber, and that Linn
wanted for nothing. Chanot and Alida were left practically alone, for
Chardon, obedient to his chief's eye, had withdrawn into an alcove
where, with a book in his hand, he slept or pretended to sleep.
"My father is wandering in his mind," she said, letting the light of her
young eyes dwell upon his. "He had a bullet which grazed the brain----"
"I fired that bullet," said Chanot, with bent head.
"But not in anger--not to do him any hurt?" The voice of Alida was
almost pleading now. She wanted to think well of this young man.
"Not more than any other," he answered, after a look at her. "We did not
wish--we could not permit--I will not weary you with politics, but I
want you to know that I put down Keller Bey. I fired the River Quarter.
I was the chief of the plunderers. I deserve death a score of times. I
came here to rob and if necessary to kill----"
"No--no!" cried Alida, reaching out her hand a second time. "I saw you
with the little Italian. He had a knife. I saw him reaching for it, and
that made me feel for mine. You see, I am from Algeria and go armed. He
came to kill, if you like. But not you--you are a gentleman!"
"Thank you," said Chanot quickly, but still not taking her hand, "it
will help--that which you have said--when it comes to the pinch. I am--I
was a gentleman!"
"A brave one and true," said the girl, and then, something she had heard
or read working in her head, she added, "gentle and a gentleman."
The day was coming up over the river, and soon the lamps in the room
burned faint and yellow. Chardon, waking, opened the window by which he
sat and the fresh air of the May morning fanned out the heated
atmosphere. The coolness brought a faint flush to Alida's cheek and her
lips grew redder.
Chanot rose to his feet and held out his hand.
"Good-bye, dear lady--I have met you too late. Yet do not think quite
unkindly of me, of whom much evil will be spoken."
"Chardon," he said, "I leave you here on guard. I commit these ladies to
you--should--should any of our people--you understand."
Chardon stood without bareheaded, watching his leader go. Chanot reached
the Garden Cottage in time to find himself face to face with a company
of soldiers--red-breeched infantry men they were, of the 131st of the
line. These were under the command of a very young officer in a
tremendous haste. He held a piece of paper in one hand and with the
other he knocked loudly, with the hilt of his recently acquired sword,
on the door of the Garden Cottage.
"I have a warrant for the instant arrest of the chief of the Aramon
insurrection. I am advised that he lives here. His name is Keller,
Charles Keller."
"I am the chief of the Aramon insurrection," said Chanot calmly, "I am
Keller!"
The rattle of the _peloton_ fire came irregularly from above, among the
rocks of St. Andre. Chanot heard it and knew his fate. No lingering
trial for him, no stupid military commanders murmuring sleepily over a
foregone verdict.
"There against the wall--we must cross the river--there is no time to
lose. Form a firing party." The young officer, in a hurry, fairly jetted
out his orders.
"_Mon lieutenant_," said Chanot coolly, "there are ladies within the
Chateau of Gobelet--the house you see yonder through the trees. It
belongs to a great English scholar, who is a friend of Monsieur Thiers,
and a historian like him. I have no objections to being shot, but you
will have the goodness to let me march with you till we turn the corner
of the policies. Then we will have a steep cliff and the river below,
which will be convenient."
The lieutenant nodded. His men were ordered in that direction, and so it
chanced that twenty of the defenders of our Chateau Schneider witnessed
the end of the Black Insurrection of Aramon.
Jack Jaikes and the others of the old machine-gun gang greeted the
appearance of Chanot guarded and marching to execution with a yell of
triumph.
"Allerdyce--Allerdyce!" they shouted, and turned aside that they might
see. I also went with them, not knowing aught of the history of the
night. We came out on a plain sward overlooking the river. A path ran
along and there was a low wall, with lizards darting everyway in the
sun.
The _peloton_ formed up with the readiness of practice, and the officer
raised his sword. Chanot stepped briskly to the wall, and as he drew up
his tall figure and stood facing us with squared shoulders, I think I
never saw anyone so transfigured. The sullen wolfishness was all gone.
His eyes shone like those of a boy engaged in some innocent frolic. But
his mien was grave as befitted the circumstances. He had been smoking a
cigarette when the officer accosted him. He threw away the remainder
with a smile.
"Have you anything to say?" demanded the officer.
"Only good-bye!"
"Anything to leave?"
"Only life!"
"Then you are ready?"
"I am ready!"
The officer let his sword drop and as from a great distance I seemed to
hear his voice commanding "Fire!" The volley rang out, and Chanot,
taking a step backwards as if driven by the impact of the bullets,
toppled over into the deep and rapid Rhone and was seen no more.
The young officer was methodical. He drew out of his breast a note-book,
and into this he entered several lines which, perhaps that we might bear
witness, he read aloud.
"May 25th, 1871. Upon the hill called St. Andre, immediately above the
Rhone, I caused to be executed one Charles Keller, upon his own
confession, as being the chief of the revolt in Aramon-les-Ateliers."
"No, no!" cried Jack Jaikes and several others before they thought.
"Eh! what's that?" demanded the infantry lieutenant, wheeling upon us
with his note-book and pencil still in his hand. I had just time to
whisper one word to Jack Jaikes. That word was "Fool!" To the others I
conveyed as well as I could that they were to hold their tongues.
"Who are you, and what do you mean by 'No, no'?"
"I am Dennis Deventer's second-in-command," said Jack Jaikes. "I stood
the two sieges in command of the machine guns, which I had made myself,
and by saying 'No--no' I meant that there were other chiefs besides this
one whom you have sent to his account!"
"No doubt," said the officer drily; "the others are up yonder under the
walls. We surrounded them while they were blocked by young Deventer's
wire entanglements and dazzled by his electric light. But why have you
left your fortifications and why----"
He stopped his questions, for just then Rhoda Polly strolled
nonchalantly upon the sward. He stood staring at her. Rhoda Polly held
out her hand to the young man.
"I am Dennis Deventer's daughter," she said, English, smiling, and
frank, "not his only one, but the only one who counts on days like
these."
The lieutenant flushed and bowed. He wished the firing party would stand
a little closer about a certain square of the green turf. He need not
have troubled, Rhoda Polly's mind was a hundred miles from any idea of
minute observation at that moment.
"_Tiens!_ The 131st!" she exclaimed. "If you cross the river you must go
up and see my father. Your colonel is rather a pet of his!"
At the idea of their fire-eating bristling old colonel being anybody's
pet, a smile passed among the rank and file, but the lieutenant being
well-mannered remained grave.
"I shall immediately do myself the honour of waiting on your father!"
He marched his men down the hill. Jack Jaikes and his party stepped out
on the highway which led to St. Andre. Only Rhoda Polly and I lingered.