A NOTE WHICH WENT ASTRAY.
Meanwhile Jacques had undertaken to manage my little affair at Biloxi
with tact and discretion. And this is how the fellow did it:
It seems that Jacques thought no harm of the note, and when he took it
first to the house my lady was out. The honest fellow, doing his best
to carry out my instructions, refused to leave it. When he returned,
my lady worked, bent down amongst her flowers, in the little garden
beside their cottage. The Chevalier stood some distance off, busied
someway, Jacques knew not how, but with his face turned away from my
messenger as he came up. Jacques handed the note to my lady through
the fence, and she took it gently by the corner, fearing to soil it.
She held it up to look at the name written upon it, and seeing it was
her own, looked again more curiously at the writing. She did not know
the hand. Then she gaily called to the Chevalier:
"Oh, Charles, come here; see what I have; it is a missive to your wife,
and from some gay gallant, too. I do not know the writing. Do you
come here and read it to me. My hands are so--" She held up two small
white hands dabbled in the dirt.
"Perhaps some invitation to a court ball. We'll go, eh, Agnes?"
He came like the fine, strong gentleman he was, across the garden,
taking the note from her and tearing it open. He began straightway to
read, my lady on tip-toe behind him reading over his shoulder, and
holding her contaminated hands away from his coat. His face grew
puzzled at the first, then as he seemed to finish, he stood a pace
apart from my lady and read again. There was murder in his face--yet
so white and quiet.
He threw down the note and ground it into the soft earth beneath his
heel. Then he caught my lady firmly by both her shoulders and held her
fast, at full arm's length, gazing steadily into her face.
"God in heaven," as Jacques said to me; "Master, what eyes has that
Chevalier de la Mora! No man could lie to him with those eyes reading
what a fellow thought." Jacques could not make himself to leave; he
stood rigid and watched.
"Well, Madame?"
"She tried to laugh, but her husband's face forbade that this could be
a spark of lover's play.
"Well, Madame?"
"Why, Charles, what is the matter with you, you behave so strangely?"
The Chevalier had grown an older man, his face stern and resolute, eyes
a-glitter, and mouth drawn in tense, determined lines. A most
dangerous man.
"Why, Charles, what is the matter?"
"When did you meet him at Sceaux? What did you do?"
"Meet who?"
"Don't lie to me, woman, I am in no mood for subterfuge."
She besought him with one frightened look, one step forward to him as
if for protection, which he repelled; then she looked as though she
might weep.
"Neither do you weep. Tell me how many notes like this have you
received?"
"Like what? I could not read it, you held it so high," she sobbed.
The Chevalier stooped down, picked up the crumpled paper from the
earth, and smoothed it out. He then handed it to her, and regarded her
face intently as she read it.
"Read this, Madame, and see how careless you have been."
And my lady read the note; she, too, read it again, the first reading
not sufficing her to understand. Then she looked at her husband with
great wide-open eyes; she was now calm, and as quiet as he.
"Truly, Charles, I know nothing of this."
"It was always said, Madame, at Sceaux, you could take the stage and
play the parts of distressed and virtuous damosels," he answered her,
coldly curling his lip.
"Tell me, Madame, as you value your soul, what is this Captain de
Mouret to you?"
"As I value my soul," my lady answered him direct and steadily, looking
straight into his eye, her own hands folded across her heaving breast.
"As I value my soul, Charles, I know nothing of him."
"What does he mean when he says here 'I was hasty and too impulsive
when we parted in the chapel at Sceaux'?"
"Upon my honor, Charles, I do not know. I never saw the man in all my
life--to know him."
"Upon your _honor_," the Chevalier repeated.
And my lady's cheek flushed fire. But her form straightened up, and
her eyes met his unflinching, without guilt or fear. The Chevalier
turned and caught sight of Jacques, for the lout, according to his
story, had grown to the spot as firm as one of the oaks.
"Here, you fellow, come here, _come here_!"
And Jacques dared not disobey him.
"Here, fellow, how many notes like this have you brought to my wife?"
"Only that one, my lord." Jacques started in by telling the truth, and
he followed it up religiously. According to his account of it, the
Chevalier looked him straight through and through until he dared not
tell a lie.
"Mind that you tell me the truth. Who gave you this note?"
"Captain de Mouret."
"When?"
"Last night."
"Where?"
"At his quarters."
"To whom did he say you should deliver it?"
"To Madame Agnes de la Mora."
The Chevalier stooped, picked up the envelope, and re-read the
superscription, handing it over to my lady, who took it unseeing.
"Did he expect a reply?"
"Yes, my lord."
"And where did he say to bring it?"
"Bring it to him when he returned from across the Bay this afternoon.
I was to await him upon the shore."
"At what hour?"
"None was named, my Lord; he said it would be late, perchance."
Verily, as Jacques told it me, he must have drained the stupid fellow
dry.
Then the Chevalier turned to my lady with the utmost courtesy:
"What say you, Madame, shall I bear your reply to this gentle captain?
For by my faith, Madame, you require a more careful go-between than
this, one more discreet and less glib of tongue."
"Charles, upon my honor, I know nothing of all this; I have never seen
this Captain de Mouret."
He looked as if he did not hear her. He glanced at the sun, full two
hours high, drew his sword and started to leave the garden.
He paused to doff his cap, and say, "I bear your message for you,
Madame; verily, I am honored."
My lady neither screamed nor fainted during his questioning of Jacques;
she stood and listened as one dazed, or who but dimly understood. The
Chevalier strode out sword in hand.
"For shame, Charles," she called to him calmly enough, though she was
deadly pale, "here is some wretched mistake--"
"Yes, there does appear to have been a mistake--in the delivery of this
precious billet. I will speedily make that right."
"Charles, Charles!"
He turned. Her bearing was full as proud as his. He looked from the
woman to the paper in his hand.
"Well, if you know not this man, then he has wantonly insulted you. I
shall await this Captain de Mouret by the water, and there I shall know
the truth. He shall explain what means this pretty letter to my wife."
Jacques watched her proudly erect figure enter the door. He saw her
sway a moment in indecision, then sink beside the bed to pray. She
came shortly to the door again and called him. The fellow's brain
worked slowly, and he had not yet comprehended the extent of mischief
he had done. That he had done something amiss, though, he began to
understand.
"You had that note from Monsieur le Capitaine de Mouret?"
"Yes, Madame."
"And he said deliver it to me?"
"To Madame Agnes de la Mora. Am I not right?"
"Yes, I am Madame Agnes de la Mora, but that note was not intended for
me."
She came closer to Jacques, so close indeed she laid her trembling hand
upon his sleeve.
"Tell me--you know this Captain de Mouret well--tell me if you would
save an innocent woman, has this Captain de Mouret a love affair here?
Answer me, answer me truly, has he a love affair, or--or a mistress?"
Her innocence and direct question abashed Jacques sorely and set him a
wondering what manner of escapade was this his master had got into.
"I will go to her, be she what she may, go to anybody; my husband must
not kill this innocent man. No; and here I disturb myself about my own
reputation, while two lives are in jeopardy. I must think, I must
act--but how?"
And she broke down to weep again, showing the woman in her that was
behind so brave a front. Her tears were not for long. Jacques felt it
was his turn now to say something, so he blundered out, "See the
Governor;" then one whit better he went, "_I_ will see the Governor for
you."
The good fellow had in that moment for the first time realized that he
could stop the affair, and do it he would if he had to quit the colony.
And she such a lovely lady, so gentle with the poor.
"Do you not fear to speak with him of such as this?"
"No, Madame, Bienville's soldiers do not fear him; they leave that for
his enemies."
And so it fell out that Jacques told the Governor. And he told him all.
It was ever Bienville's wont to act with quick decision.
"Order Major Boisbriant to report to me at once." And off posted
Jacques upon his errand.
That officer attended with military promptitude.
"Major Boisbriant, do you seek on the instant the Chevalier de la Mora,
and bear him company wherever he may go until you are relieved. Put
upon him no restraint, and say nothing of your having such orders from
me if you can avoid it. There is trouble brewing here, which I want to
prevent; an affair of honor, you understand. He has gone toward the
landing on the Bay. Be discreet and delicate."
Boisbriant nodded his comprehension, saluted, and was gone. Bienville
turned to Jacques.
"Saddle my horse at once and bring him here."
It was much later than I had hoped before I could with decency return
to Biloxi. Impatient, childish and excited I recrossed the bay,
leaving a little detail of soldiers to watch beside the body of my
friend. As soon as I saw Jacques on the other shore I knew something
had gone wrong. That senseless knave was pacing uncertainly about the
beach, stopping here and there to dig great holes in the sand with his
toe, and carefully filling them up again. The fellow, ever on the
watch for me, was at the same time watching the path from Biloxi, and
seemed to dread my coming. Instead of meeting me at the water, he
waited for me to approach him, thus leaving the two boatmen out of
hearing.
"Well, give me the note; why stand there like a driveling fool," for
the fellow's hesitant manner angered and frightened me.
"There is no note, sir."
"No reply?"
"The lady sent none."
"Why?"
Under my questions Jacques turned red and pale, then he blundered out:
"The Chevalier de la Mora said he would bring the answer to you
himself--at the shore."
He kept his eyes fast riveted upon another hole he was digging in the
sand.
"The--Chevalier?" I knew what that meant. Great God! and this was the
end of it all.
"Tell me, you bungling fool, what knows he of this?"
"Pardon, Master; I thought no harm of it; you had never before employed
me on such an errand."
It was now my own turn to seek the ground with my eyes, so just, so
humble was the rebuke.
"I thought no harm of it, sir, and gave it to Madame in the garden; she
called upon the Chevalier to read it for her."
"What said he? To her? Was he violent?"
"No sir, most polite; terribly polite, and cool; but, master, you must
not meet him; he will kill you."
Of this I had scant doubt.
"Did he make no sign as if he would do her harm?"
"No, sir, not then, but he looked so queer one could hardly say what he
meditated. I would not care to have him look at me like that."
I was paralyzed by the suddenness of the ill-fortune which had
befallen, but I was to be allowed no day of grace in which to plan a
line of conduct. My face had been turned all this while toward the
sea, there being something soothing to me about the long, even sweep of
those bright, blue waters in the south.
Jacques faced the town. I noted a deprecatory gesture, and following
his gaze saw the Chevalier himself coming our way at a good round pace.
My knees did quake, and the veriest poltroon might have well been
ashamed of the overweening fear which possessed me. In defense of
which I may say, I believe it was due in large part to my great respect
and fondness for de la Mora, as well as a deep consciousness of the
justice of his cause. From long habit I looked first to my weapons,
but for once felt no joy in them.
"Captain de Mouret," he greeted me with a soldier's formal courtesy.
"Chevalier de la Mora."
"Captain, I have the honor to return to you a note which I believe
bears your name," and he handed me the unfortunate billet.
"Am I right? Is that your hand?"
I scorned to lie, and answered him evenly;
"It is."
"Is that note properly directed? To Madame de la Mora?"
"It is, but--"
"Have you any explanation, sir, to offer?"
For the life of me I could think of nothing to say; I could not tell
him the truth, neither could I lie to him with grace. So I simply said:
"It was not her fault," probably the worst remark I could have made.
"Then, this note is true? You did meet my wife by appointment in the
ruined chapel at Sceaux?"
"No, by my honor, there was no appointment; I came upon her by chance,
and through no consent of hers."
"And so you presumed to meet my wife in a lonely place--which she
denies to me upon her honor, as you now swear; you were there 'hot,
impulsive and hasty' which this _honorable_ missive of yours craves
pardon for. Now you seek another private interview which you say you
can not live without?"
I nodded moodily, wishing only to have the matter over, and avoid his
further questioning.
"By my soul, Captain, I am rejoiced to find you so frank--rejoiced that
you do not lie. The other, God knows, is bad enough."
I winced, but held my tongue.
"Our business, then, is plain enough; and there is no time like the
present."
So saying he cast off his coat and began to roll his sleeves back,
leaving bare that magnificent forearm of his, supple and dexterous.
Imitating him we were both soon stripped for action.
I had only my light rapier, worn about the garrison, while he was armed
with his heavy campaign blade. I was already a dead man, or so I felt,
for there was no spirit in me for the fight. Our blades crossed, and
immediately he noted the disparity of arms.
"Captain," he remarked, composedly, drawing back a pace. "This is a
bad business; I shall surely kill you, but wish to do so as a
gentleman. Permit me to exchange our weapons, so you fence not at such
great disadvantage."
And he offered me the hilt of his own reversed sword.
"Chevalier de la Mora, you are a gallant gentleman, will you believe a
man who has not yet lied to you, and who feels a word is your due?"
"Be quick," he replied, "we maybe interrupted."
"I have wronged you and will render full atonement. But it has only
been a wrong of the heart; one of which I had no control, no choice.
Your sweet wife has never, by word or deed, dishonored the noble name
she bears."
"Of course, Captain, it is a gentleman's part to make such
protestations. It is fruitless for us to discuss this matter further,
except as we had so well begun."
So intent were we both that neither had seen Jacques leave us, nor had
either heard the swift hoof beats of a horse upon the deadening sand,
until the rider was full upon us.
Bienville. Behind him, on foot, just emerging from the brush some
distance away, Boisbriant and Jacques.
"Gentlemen, gentlemen, put by your weapons. What does this mean?" He
had flung himself from his horse and stood between.
De la Mora sullenly dropped his point.
"A mere private matter of honor, sire."
"Are there so few enemies of France with whom to fight that you must
needs turn your swords at each other to rob me of a good soldier when I
need every one?"
By this time Boisbriant and Jacques had come up, and Bienville
commanded:
"Major, do you accompany the Chevalier de la Mora to his quarters. You
will take his parole to remain there during the night, and he will
report to me at ten to-morrow. Placide, do you come with me."
He gave up his horse to Jacques, and taking me by the arm led me in the
direction of the garrison. Truly, I was in no better plight, for I
feared reproof from the Governor more than the steel of de la Mora.
During all this time I said no word. We returned to Biloxi in absolute
silence. Bienville, with all a gentleman's instinct, recognized the
delicacy of my position.
The Governor took me at once to his own room, and sat me down at the
table.
"Now, Placide, tell me all about this miserable affair,"
"I can not, sire; believe me, I can not. I beg of you not to put upon
me a command I must disobey. This wretched matter is not for me to
tell, even to you."
"A woman?"
I held my peace.
"Yes, I thought as much. Is it your fault or his, Placide?"
"Mine."
He drummed on the table with his fingers a while before he spoke again.
"Then, my lad, there is but one thing I can do, that is to send you
away from here at once. You can leave this place to-night, seek out
Tuskahoma, make your way to Pensacola, thence to Havana, where I
warrant you will find other occupation. Or, if you so desire, I will
accredit you to Governor Frontenac in the north."
I chose Havana, there being the greater prospect of active service
there. It took the methodical Governor but brief space to give me such
letters as would insure me fitting reception from our brave fellows at
Pensacola. He placed them in my hand, and I quietly rose to bid him
good-night, and good-bye. I would not have ventured upon anything more
than a formal word of parting, for I had the consciousness of having
done much to forfeit his regard. But the old man came over and put his
arms about me as he might a beloved son.
"Placide," he said, "it grieves me to the soul for you to leave me. I
love you, boy, as I do my own flesh. You have served me truly, always
with affection and honor. I respect your silence now, and ask you for
no confidences not your own. Serigny has told me how faithful you were
in Paris, and what he heard from others of your interview with the
King. Placide, my lad, even now it fires my blood to think of a boy of
mine standing before the mighty Louis, surrounded by our enemies, and
daring to tell the truth. It was glorious, glorious, and it saved your
Governor. I had minded me in an idle day to hear it all from your own
lips. Perhaps, some day, who knows, it may yet come. You will lose
not an hour in leaving Biloxi, and I have your word to engage in no
encounter?"
"Aye, sire, you have my word."
"Good-by, Placide."
I had dropped upon my knee, and, taking his hand, kissed it gently. He
turned back into his room, shut the door, and left me alone in the
hall. I walked thence straightway to my own quarters, put on hastily
the garb of the forest and made all readiness. My toilet was not
elaborate, and a short half hour found me completely equipped for the
journey.
Leaving Biloxi, unaccompanied, like a thief in the night, I set out,
and having reached the Bay winded a horn until Pachaco heard, then sat
me down to wait for his boat.