THE TWELVE ROSE PETALS
Whether it were the effect of the candlelight, or whether it were due
to the exertion of the day, I know not, but it seemed to me as I
entered the room that mademoiselle looked pale and worn, and there was
a reserve and constraint in her manner that had been absent before. I
made some vapid remark about the warmth of the weather, hoping it had
not added to her fatigue, to which she answered that she was tired, but
that a night's rest would, doubtless, see her as well as ever by
morning. The landlord at this moment announcing supper as served we
went to table. At first my companion played with her food, but,
yielding to my pressure, began to eat, and in a little the colour came
back to her cheeks, the brightness returned to her eyes, and the
coldness in her manner wore off. The landlord himself personally
attended to us, and I observed that, whilst his manner towards
mademoiselle was deferential and respectful in the extreme, his tone
towards me was that of sulky obedience. This was so different from my
first reception that, with my suspicions already aroused, it was
impossible for me not to see it, and so I took the chance of a shot in
the dark, saying:
"We have seen nothing of our fellow-guest, mademoiselle. It seems
that, like the mole, he dislikes light. I have been thinking that,
perhaps, it would be well to unearth him."
Whilst saying this I kept my eyes on an ornament on the table, but as I
finished I glanced up swiftly. The landlord was at the time engaged in
handing some fruit to mademoiselle, but at my remark he almost dropped
the plate, and mademoiselle said, with a laugh: "You will have to
arrest everyone we meet on the road, monsieur, if your suspicions are
aroused so easily." Nevertheless, I was certain that a glance of
understanding had passed between her and the landlord, and I felt sure
that it would be well to pay a little attention to the retiring
stranger.
As I expected, the landlord shortly after retired, leaving us alone.
The room we were in was long and low, with a window opening into the
garden. Mademoiselle was sitting facing this window, which lay open
because of the warmth of the night, whilst my back was turned towards
it. I said something about the landlord's manner, and mademoiselle
replied:
"He is of lower Poitou, monsieur. Men there are like their
country--sullen and sad." And then she stopped suddenly, her eyes
fixed on the window, whilst her colour came and went. She had not the
gift that cynics assert is a special attribute of the sex, and was a
bad dissembler; and I here venture to say such women make the best of
wives, even though life's passage with them may be at times a little
stormy.
"Is there anything there?" I asked, making a movement as if to turn
round; but she said hastily:
"No, nothing; I thought I saw a figure passing--that is all."
"One of my men, no doubt," I said carelessly. "We may rest secure
to-night, for they will keep good watch."
To this she made no answer, but taking a rose from out of a vase near
her began to pluck the petals in an absent manner and lay them beside
her. When a woman's wits are pitted against those of a man it is well
for him to disregard nothing, and, slight as this action was, I took
note of it. I counted the petals as she plucked them. They were
twelve in all. Then she cast the rose aside, and picked up the petals
one after another, counting them aloud, and when she came to the
twelfth she put them in a heap beside her plate.
"Twelve," I said. "Is that a magic number?"
"No, monsieur; but it is my lucky number." And rising she moved to the
window and, sitting thereon, looked forth. The night was dark, and all
the stars were out. From the open window, a pennon of light streamed
out into the garden, heavy with the scent of roses. Mademoiselle took
a deep breath, and then pointing to the twinkling lights above us,
asked:
"Are you learned in the stars, Monsieur Broussel?"
I looked out too, for I was standing at the window, and laughed.
"No, mademoiselle; all I know is that the star I was born under has not
done much for me. I remember, some years ago, when I was in Italy, an
astrologer made a horoscope for me; but I have lost it."
"You do not believe in the stars, then?"
"Who can tell, mademoiselle! But a man's life is mostly of his own
making, and a woman's too for the matter of that. There is an
invariable law of Nature or of God. It is that the breaker pays, and
sooner or later all learn this."
"_Ciel_! how serious you are!" And her brown eyes met mine.
"The stars should never laugh, mademoiselle."
"They cried over me when my fortune was told."
"May I ask----"
"Oh yes!--but fortune for fortune. If I tell you mine will you tell me
yours?"
"Certainly."
"Well, mine was short: it was simply to beware of a church under the
ground and a woman in black and white. I have never seen such a church
nor ever met such a woman."
I thought of Diane of Valentinois and her favourite colours, and a
sudden chill came over me. For a moment I stood silent.
"Now for yours, monsieur," she said gaily.
"Mine! Well, it was wrapped up in long names, and I never could make
aught of it. As far as I remember, Aquarius, Mars, and Mercury are in
the ascendant, and the face of Venus is from me. In the second house
Sol is in Pisces. In the fifth Luna in Gemini, and Jupiter----"
She put her hands to her ears. "Enough, monsieur! I almost fear to
look out, lest I should see a cauldron of burning sulphur, and witches
dancing around it."
And as she spoke there came to us the distant echoes of hoarse
laughter. I recognised the voices of the landlord and Capus, my
man-at-arms.
"'Tis not Capus' business to hob-nob with the host at this hour,
mademoiselle. I had better go and see that he keeps stricter watch."
With this I made a half movement to go, but she stayed me with a little
gesture of command.
"Monsieur Broussel, I have a favour to ask of you; will you grant it?"
"Mademoiselle, all that is in my power I will do. What is it?"
For answer she stood up and placed a hand on my shoulder, her eyes
looking straight into mine. "Monsieur, a brave man like you should not
be a gaoler of women. Let me free!"
I made no reply; but as her eyes, soft and imploring, met mine all the
love in my heart rose within me. For her sake no Roman constancy would
have held me to any vow; but I knew that Montluc had spoken the truth,
I knew the danger she was in, and that the one chance of her safety lay
in her being under the Queen's protection.
"Mademoiselle!" I stammered; but she broke in on me.
"Yes! You will let me go, will you not? Monsieur, I hate the thought
of Paris and its dark intrigues; and the fate of those who belong to my
faith is ever with me, like a horrible dream. I dread, I fear, each
hour that brings me nearer to what I know will be my death. Monsieur,
as you are a gentleman, let me free. Take me to Châtillon, and leave
me there with the Cardinal. Odet de Coligny, prince of the Church
though he is, is of my faith. I shall be safe there--a thousand times
safer than a prisoner in Paris. Oh, say you will!"
I took her hand in mine, caressing it as that of a child, and strove to
explain, but she would not listen. "Say you will; do not refuse!" she
repeated; and, feeling like a hangman, I blurted out that it was
impossible. And then she snatched her hand from my grasp, and stood a
moment, her face half averted from me. There was an awkward silence,
and collecting myself I again pointed out the danger she was in, and
that in Paris alone could there be safety for her. I might have spoken
to stone walls; but at my words she turned, and there were angry lights
in the brown eyes, and her lips were tightly set.
"I shall not trespass further on your good nature, monsieur. I feel
you have cancelled the debt I owed you, and henceforth you will
understand that I look upon you as my gaoler and nothing more."
I bowed, and she continued: "And further, I do not desire to have
speech with you. I travel as your prisoner; and"--with a truly
feminine outburst--"I shall escape--there are friends who will see to
that."
I was so full of wrath at the manner in which I had been treated that I
was about to answer back hotly that, friend or no friend, she would
ride into Paris by my side; but I restrained myself with an effort, and
with another look of anger at me mademoiselle turned, and began to
ascend the stairway. I watched her as she went up, with head erect and
shining eyes, and stood where I was for some little time utterly
dejected and cast down. Even if I had a shadow of a chance it was gone
by this. I felt like one who was condemned to execute himself. After
a little I moved towards the supper-table, and sitting down there
stared aimlessly before me. My eyes fell on the little heap of plucked
rose leaves that had been left on the table, and I began, at first half
unconsciously, to try and read the meaning of the signal, for such it
was I was sure. In the light of her last words, the sting of which
still remained with me, I was certain that she had not played with the
rose petals idly. I began to go back. She had told Montluc she would
escape at the first chance. She had made the attempt this very day,
but had apparently accepted defeat. Shortly after coming to the inn
there had been a decided change in her manner. Then she had grown
friendly again, and finding this fail her had broken out into open
defiance. I put all this with the little incident of the window, and
her open statement, made in heat, that she had friends who would help
her to escape--an escape that would lead her into the jaws of the wolf,
if she would but understand. Nevertheless, I could make nothing of it,
and so for the present gave up guessing, determining to do all I could
to protect her, and to leave the rest in the hands of Fate. The
landlord coming in at this moment I requested him to send Pierrebon to
me, and to show me the way to my chamber. Taking up one of the candles
from the table he led me across the room, and along a narrow passage,
on one side of which my room was, and then, saying he would send
Pierrebon, and wishing me "good-night" with a sulky civility, the man
went. Shortly after I heard steps along the passage, there was a knock
at my door, and Pierrebon entered. He wore his cloak thrown over his
shoulder so as to conceal his left arm and hand, and I could see from
the expression of his face that he had news of some kind.
"What is it, Pierrebon?" I asked.
For answer he shut the door carefully, and placing his cloak on the
floor put beneath it a small dark lantern, saying as he did so: "I have
made free to borrow this, monsieur, as I think, perhaps, it may be
needed."
"Then you have found out something?"
"I think so, monsieur." And he dropped his voice. "After your warning
I set about trying to discover our stranger, but could find no trace of
him. Capus and Poltrot, however, had seen him, and told me he had a
horse; but there was no horse in the stables, and at first I thought
that he might have gone."
"What about our horses?" I interrupted. "Does anyone watch them?"
"Yes, monsieur; we have old soldiers with us, and Poltrot and Bahuzet
watch them, whilst Capus and the Hainaulter Cuyp watch the house--all
four turn and turn about.
"Capus, however, was drinking with the landlord, and his watch seems
lax."
"No, monsieur! The landlord was drinking with Capus, whom he had paid
five gold Henris to cut all our saddlery to-night, especially the
reins; the only saddlery to be spared is that of mademoiselle."
I whistled low, and Pierrebon, diving into his pocket, pulled out five
gold pieces, saying: "Here is the money, monsieur, which Capus begs to
inquire if he may keep."
"And five more besides, Pierrebon, and I beg his pardon for doubting
him. But what about the stranger?"
"That too is known, monsieur, and I was about to tell you. Whilst the
landlord was drinking with Capus I made my way to the kitchen, where my
reception was chill, so I took myself out into the garden, and
wandering down a pathway heard a whinny. 'Soh!' said I to myself,
'that is a nag there!' Sure enough there was, and I was about to step
up to it when I heard a sound behind me, and heard someone coming up,
and saw the light of a lantern. It is dark, as you know, monsieur, and
I stepped back into the shadow, and lay there concealed. Presently the
men--there were two of them--came up. One was the ostler, and the
other the Vicomte de Ganache, to whom you, monsieur, lent your horse
this morning."
"Are you sure?" I asked with a breath.
"Perfectly, monsieur. I saw the light on his face; and there was the
brown horse----"
"Did they say anything?"
"Nothing of import, monsieur. M. le Vicomte, like a good soldier, was
seeing to his beast. When they had attended to him they went back, I
following slowly. There is a door leading into the kitchen, and they
entered by this, the ostler, however, shutting the slide of his
lantern, and leaving it in the angle of the wall. It was careless of
him, monsieur, and it is here now." And Pierrebon smiled.
"Now, Pierrebon, think again: are you sure that nothing of import
passed between the two?"
"Nothing, monsieur; they spoke of the horse--not a word about us. All
that the Vicomte said, as they were leaving, was that he would make all
arrangements at midnight; he means, perhaps, to start then. If so, he
will need his lantern."
But I scarce heard Pierrebon's last words. The key of the rose petals
had come to my hand. De Ganache had either arranged to meet, or to
escape with, mademoiselle at twelve. This was the secret of it all, I
was sure.