THE WINDING STAIRS
I left the table early, and went to my room. I tore two strips from the
sheet of my bed, and wrapped them around my boots so as to cover the
soles and deaden my footsteps. Slowly the night came, with stars and a
moon well toward the full. But we could keep in shadow while about the
chateau, and the light would aid our travelling later. At half-past ten
o'clock, the house seemed so still I thought the Count must have gone to
bed before his usual time. I stole noiselessly from my room, feeling my
way; and partly down the stairs. But when I got to the head of the lower
flight, I saw that the hall was still lighted. I peered over the
railing. The Count and the Captain were alone, except for two knaves who
sat asleep on their bench at the lower end of the hall. The Count
lounged limply back in his great chair at the head of the table,
unsteadily holding a glass of wine; and the Captain leaned forward on
the board, narrowly regarding the Count. Both were well gone in wine,
the Count apparently the more so. There was a look of mental torment on
the Count's face.
"Yes, I know, I know," he said, wincing at his own words as if they
pierced him. "There was opportunity enough with that De Merri. I was
blind then. And with this new puppy! Women and lovers have the ingenuity
of devils in devising opportunities. And they both admit their interview
in the garden. But that he could have his way so soon--is that entirely
probable?"
He looked at the Captain almost beseechingly, as if for a spark of hope.
The Captain spoke with the calm certainty of wisdom gained through a
world of experience:
"Young blood is quickly stirred. Young lips are quickly drawn to one
another. Young arms are quick to reach out, and young bodies quick to
yield to them."
The Count uttered a cry of pain and wrath, his eyes fixed as though upon
the very scene the Captain imagined.
"The wretches!" said the tortured Count, staggering to his feet. "And I
am the Count de Lavardin!"
[Illustration: "'THE WRETCHES!' SAID THE TORTURED COUNT, STAGGERING TO
HIS FEET."]
"The greater nobleman you, the greater conquest for a young nobody to
boast of. It is a fine thought for adventurous youth.--'A great lord,
and a rich, but it is I, an unknown stripling, who really have possessed
what he thinks his dearest treasure.'"
The Count gave a kind of agonized moan, and went lurching across the
hall, spilling some wine from his glass. "And a man of my years, too!"
he said, with an accent of self-pity.
"The older the husband, the merrier the laugh at his expense," said the
Captain.
The Count ground his teeth, and muttered to himself.
"It is always their boasting that betrays them," went on the Count.
"When I was young, they used to tell of a famous love affair between the
Bussy d'Amboise of that day and the Countess de Montsoreau, wife of the
Grand-huntsman. It came out through Bussy's writing to the King's
brother that he had stolen the hind of the Grand-huntsman. That is how
these young cocks always speak of their conquests.
"Ah, I remember that. He did the right thing, that Montsoreau! He forced
his false wife to make an appointment with Bussy, and when Bussy came,
it was a dozen armed men who kept the appointment, and the gay lover
died hanging from a window. Yes, that Montsoreau!--but he should have
killed the woman too! The perfidious creatures! Mon dieu!--when I
married her--when she took the vows--she was the picture of fidelity--I
could have staked my soul that she was true; that from duty alone she
was mine always, only mine!"
He lamented not as one hurt in his love, but as one outraged in his
right of possession and in his dignity and pride. And curiously enough,
his last words caused a look of jealousy to pass across the face of the
Captain. This look, unnoticed by the Count, and speedily repressed, came
to me as a revelation. It seemed to betray a bitter envy of the Count's
mere loveless and unloved right of possession; and it bespoke the
resolve that, if the Captain might not have her smiles, not even her
husband might be content in his rights. Such men will give a woman to
death rather than to any other man. As in a flash, then, I saw his
motive in working upon the Count's insane jealousy. Better the Count
should kill her than that even the Count should possess her. I shuddered
to think how near to murder the Count had been wrought up but a moment
since. At any time his impulse might pass the bounds. I now understood
Mathilde's apprehensions, and saw the need for haste in removing the
Countess far from the power of this madman and his malign instigator.
The Count, exhausted by his rush of feelings, drained his glass, and
almost immediately gave way to the sudden drowsiness which befalls
drinkers at a certain stage. He staggered to his seat, and fell back in
a kind of daze, the Captain watching him with cold patience. Thinking
they would soon be going to bed, I slipped back to my room.
A little after eleven, I went forth again. The hall was now dark, and
its silence betokened desertion. I groped my way to the door. The key
turned more noisily than I should have wished, and there was a bolt to
undo, which grated; but I heard no sound of alarm in the house. I
stepped out to the court-yard, closing the door after me. The court-yard
was bathed in moonlight. Keeping close to the house, so as not to be
visible from any upper window, I gained the shadow of the wall
separating the two court-yards. As noiselessly as a cat, I followed that
wall to its gateway; entered the second court-yard, and saw that the
door to the tower was open, a faint light coming from it. The tower
itself, obstructing the moon's rays, threw its shadow across the
paving-stones. I stepped into that shadow, which was only partial; drew
my sword and dagger, and darted straight for the tower entrance,
stopping just inside the doorway. By the light of a lantern hanging
against the wall, I saw a kind of small vestibule, beyond which was an
inner wall, and at one side of which was the beginning of a narrow
spiral staircase, that ran up between walls until it wound out of sight.
On a bench against the inner wall I have mentioned, sat a man, who rose
at sight of me, with one hand grasping a sword, and with the other a
pike that was leaning against the bench.
He was a heavy, squat fellow, with short, thick legs and short, thick
arms.
"I give you one chance for your life," said I quickly. "Help me to
escape with your prisoner, and leave the Count's service for mine."
After a moment's astonishment, the man grunted derisively, and made a
lunge at my breast with his pike. I caught the pike with my left hand,
still holding my dagger therein, and forced it downward. At the same
time I thrust with my rapier, but he parried with his own sword. I
thrust instantly again, and would have pinned him to the wall if he had
not sprung aside. He was now with his back to the stairs, and neither of
us had let go the pike. His sword-point darted at me a second time, but
I avoided, and thrust in return. Not quite ready to parry, he escaped by
falling back upon the narrow stone steps. Before I could attack, he was
on his feet again, and on the second step. We still held to the pike,
which troubled me much, both as an impediment to free sword-play and as
depriving me of the use of my dagger. I suddenly fell back, trying to
jerk it from his grasp; but his grip was too firm. He jerked the pike in
turn, and I let go, thinking the unexpected release might cause him a
fall.
He did not fall; but I pressed close with sword and dagger before he
could bring the pike to use, and he backed further up the stairs. He
caught the pike nearer the point, that he might wield it better at close
quarters; but the long handle made it an awkward weapon, by striking
against the wall, which continually curved behind him. We were sword to
sword, and against my dagger he had his pike, but the dagger was the
freer weapon for defence though not so far-reaching for attack.
The man was very strong, but he had the shorter thrust and offered the
broader target. We continued at it, thrust and parry, give and take. All
the time he retreated up the winding staircase, which was so narrow that
we had little elbow room, and this was to his advantage as he needed
less than I. Another thing soon came to his advantage: the stairs curved
out of the light cast by the lantern below, so that he backed into
darkness, yet I was still visible to him. I cannot tell by what sense I
knew where to meet his sword-point, yet certainly my dagger rang against
it each time it would have stung me out of the dark. As for his pike, I
now kept it busy enough in meeting my own thrusts. Whether or not I was
drawn by the knowledge that the Countess was above, I continued to
attack so incessantly, and with such good reach, that my antagonist
still retreated upward. I followed him into the darkness; and then the
advantage was with me, as being slender.
Hitherto I had offered him my full front, but now I half turned my back
to the wall, so that his blade might scarce find me at all, and that I
might stand less danger of being forced backward off my feet. Well, so
we prodded the darkness with our steel feelers in search of each other's
bodies on those narrow stairs, striking sparks from the stone walls
which our weapons were bound to meet by reason of the continual
curvature.
At last the broad form of my adversary was suddenly thrown into faint
light by a narrow window in the wall. I staked all upon one swift
thrust. It caught him full in the belly, and ran how far up his body I
know not. With a cry he fell forward, and I was hard put to it to save
my sword and avoid going down with him. But I got myself and my sword
free, and went on up the stairs as fast as I could feel my way.
In a few moments I heard steps coming from above, and a rough voice
shouting down, "Ho, Gaspard, did you call? What the devil's up?" It was
the other guard, who must have been asleep to have been deaf to the
clash of our weapons, but whom his comrade's death-cry had roused. I
trusted that the walls of the tower had confined that death-cry from the
chateau; fortunately, the narrow window was toward the open fields.
I stopped where I was. When the man's steps sounded a few feet from me,
I said "Halt!" and, telling him his comrade was dead, proposed the terms
I had offered the latter. There was a moment's silence: then a clicking
sound, and finally a great flash of fiery light with a loud report, and
the smell of smoke. By good luck I had flattened myself against the wall
before speaking, and the charge whizzed past me. Thinking the man might
have another pistol in readiness, I stood still. But he turned and ran
up the stairs. I stumbled after him.
Presently the stairway curved into light such as we had left at the
bottom. The guard ran on in the light, and finally stepped forth to a
landing no wider than the stairs; where there hung a lantern over a
three-legged stool, beyond which was a door. At sight of this my heart
bounded.
At the very edge of the landing the man turned and faced me, pointing a
second pistol. As the wheel moved, I dropped forward. The thing missed
fire entirely, and, flinging it down with a curse, the man drew his
sword and seized a pike that stood against the wall. I charged
recklessly up the steps, bending my body to avoid the pike. It went
through my doublet, just under the left armpit. Ere he could disencumber
it I pressed forward upon the landing. I turned his sword with my
dagger, and thrust with my own sword under the pike, piercing his side.
Only wounded, he leaped back, drawing the pike from my clothes. He aimed
at me again with that weapon. In bending away from it, I fell on my
side, but instantly turned upon my back.
The man moved to stand over me. I let go my sword, and caught the pike
in my hand as it descended. He then tried to spit me with his sword, but
I checked its point with the guard of my dagger. I thought I was near my
end. He had only to draw up his sword for another downward thrust; but
there was a sudden faltering, or hesitation, in his movements, probably
a blindness of his eyes, the effect of his wound. In that instant of his
uncertainty, I swung my dagger around and ran it through his leg. He
fell forward upon me, nearly driving the breath out of my body. My
dagger arm, extended as it had been, was fortunately free. I crooked my
elbow, embraced my adversary, and sank the dagger deep into his back. I
felt his quiver of death.
After I had rolled his body off me, and sheathed my sword and dagger, I
took out the key and unlocked the door. Inside the vaulted room of
stone, which was lighted by a candle, stood the Countess and Mathilde.
The Countess, beautiful in her pallor, and looking more angel than woman
in the plain robe of blue that clothed her slight figure, met me with a
face of mingled reproach, pity, and horror. Mathilde was in tears and
utterly downcast. I could see at a glance how matters stood, and ere I
had made two steps beyond the threshold, I stopped, abashed.
"Oh, Monsieur, the blood!" cried the Countess sadly, pointing to my
doublet.
"It is that of your two guards," I said. "I am not hurt."
"I am glad you are not hurt. But oh, why did you put this bloodshed upon
your soul?"
"To save you, Madame."
"Alas, I know. It is not for me to blame you--but could you think I
would escape--leave the house of my husband--become a fugitive wife?"
I saw how firm she was in her resolution for all her fragility of body,
and I scarce knew what to say.
"Madame, think! He is your husband, yes,--but your persecutor. Where you
should have protection, you receive--this." I waved my hand about her
prison. "Where you should find safety, you are in mortal danger."
"I know all that, Monsieur,--have known it from the first. But shall I
play the runaway on that account? Think what you propose--that I, a
wedded wife, shall fly from my husband's roof with a gentleman who is
not even of kin to me! Then indeed would my good name deserve to
suffer."
"But Madame, heaven knows, as I do, that you are the truest of wives."
"Then let me still deserve that title as my consolation, whatever I may
have to endure."
"But to flee from such indignity as this--such slander--such peril of
death--"
"It is for me to bear these things," she interrupted, "if he to whom I
vowed myself in marriage inflicts them upon me. If they be wrongs, it is
I who must suffer but not I who must answer to heaven for them! I may be
sinned against, but I will not sin. Though he fail in a husband's duty,
I will not fail in a wife's. Do you not understand, Monsieur, it is not
the things done to us, but the things we do, that we are accountable
for?"
"But I can see no sin in your fleeing from the evils that beset you
here, Madame."
"Nay, even if it were not a violation of my marriage vow, it would have
the appearance of sin, and that we are to avoid. And it would be to
throw away my one hope, that my husband's heart may yet be softened, and
his eyes opened to my innocence."
"Alas! I trust it may turn out a true hope, Madame," said I sadly.
"Heaven has caused such things to occur before now," she replied. "As
for you, Monsieur, I must never cease to thank you for your chivalrous
intent, as I shall thank my good Mathilde for her devotion. And I will
ever pray for you. And now, if you would make my lot easier--if you
would remove one anxiety from my heart, and give me one solace--you will
leave this chateau immediately. Save yourself, I beg. Monsieur: let
there be no more blood shed on my account, and that blood yours!
Mathilde can let you out at the postern--she knows where the key is
hidden. She tells me you have a horse at Montoire. Go, Monsieur--lose
not another moment--I implore--nay, if you will recognize me as mistress
of this house, I command."
I bowed low. She offered me her hand: I kissed it.
"It will not be necessary for Mathilde to come to the postern," said I.
"I know another way out of the chateau. Adieu, Madame!" It was all I
could manage to say without the breaking of my voice. I turned and left
the room, closing the door that the Countess and Mathilde might be
spared the sight of the body on the landing. I then, for a reason, took
the key, leaving the door unlocked. I groped my way down the stairs,
taking care not to trip over the body below. I crossed the court-yards
without any care for secrecy, entered the hall, and sat down upon a
bench near the door.
When I had told the Countess I knew another way out of the chateau, I
meant only the front gateway. But I did not intend immediately to try
that way. I intended, for a purpose which had suddenly come into my
head, to wait in the hall till morning and be the first to greet the
Count when he appeared.