THE PEARS OF ORRAIN
As the curtains fell behind the King all the soft lights left La
Valentinois' eyes, and they shone like blue-black steel. She glanced
at us, an odd triumph in her look. So intensely an actress was she
that it almost seemed, and perhaps it was so, that she was looking at
us for some sign, some token of admiration at the skill with which she
had played her game, but both De Lorgnac and myself remained impassive
as stone.
"Here," she said at last, "here is my part of the bargain." And,
handing me the paper, she continued: "I presume it is correct?"
Eagerly I ran my eyes over it, De Lorgnac bending over my shoulder and
reading with me. It was correct in every particular, signed by the
King, and sealed by Bertrandi. As I folded the pardon up, with an
inward prayer of thanks to God, La Valentinois asked again:
"It is correct, is it not?"
"Perfectly, madame."
"Now for your, or rather the Queen's share, of this business. Give me
my letters!"
I looked her straight in the face. "Pardon me, madame, Mademoiselle de
Paradis is not yet free----"
"What do you mean? You quibble with words, monsieur." Her lips were
trembling, and her hands clenched; but, bowing coldly, I said:
"No, madame, I do not quibble with words. Your letters are in Paris,
and will be given to you only when Mademoiselle de Paradis is placed,
unharmed and free, in her Majesty's hands. That is the bargain, as you
call it, and it will be kept to the letter." With this I placed the
precious document in my breast pocket, and, making a sign to De
Lorgnac, turned to go; but with a cry La Valentinois sprang to her feet.
"You lie!" she said shrilly; "you lie! Give me my letters, or----"
And words failed her for once as she stood there, with such fear and
baffled hate in her look as I have never seen in human eyes.
"No, madame," I said, "I do not lie, and threats are useless. If this
pardon is recalled," and I touched my breast pocket, "the consequences
rest with you--and you know what they will be."
"There is no need for alarm," put in De Lorgnac. "I pledge my word to
deliver you the letters as soon as the conditions are complete."
She glanced from the one to the other of us, and set her white teeth.
"To be beaten!" she gasped rather than spoke. "To be beaten!--and by
that Italian woman!"
"Look you, madame!" I said sternly, for doubts were crowding thick and
fast upon me. "If you have played false--if there is any treachery or
trickery here--it is ruin to you, and no power in France can save you."
She gave me a single, livid glance, and then her courage broke, and
burying her face in her hands she stood shaking like an aspen.
De Lorgnac and I looked at each other, the same thought with us, and
then on a sudden the wretched woman made a step forward and clutched me
by the arm, her face like death, her breath coming thick and fast.
"It is not my fault," she gasped, "but he--the Vidame. Messieurs, if
Mademoiselle de Paradis is to be saved, if I am to be saved, you must
be in Paris ere the sun sets."
"You mean?" I said hoarsely.
"I mean that mademoiselle will die if the Vidame reaches Paris, and I
shall be lost!" And with this she flung herself back in her chair, and
began rocking herself backwards and forwards like a thing distraught,
muttering to herself: "I shall be lost! I shall be lost!"
Her devilish cunning had overreached itself, and she sat there a
pitiable object, with the ruin she had herself caused around her. I
gave her one look, and turned to De Lorgnac.
"There is just time. We may just do it. Come!"
And leaving the miserable woman with her sin we hurried from the room.
I will not stop to tell, indeed I never knew, how we pushed through the
crowds in the waiting-rooms and gained the outer courts; but ten
minutes later De Lorgnac and I, with Pierrebon at our heels, were
galloping on the Paris road, hoping almost against hope, for Simon had
nearly two hours' start of us, and our horses had been ridden far and
fast. Nevertheless, the stout heart of Lizette never flinched, and
Cartouche, De Lorgnac's great grey, raced bravely by her side. We rode
in silence, exchanging no speech, though now and again we uttered a
word of encouragement to our horses. Crossing the bridge of Melun
Pierrebon's nag failed him, and we lost him for the time. At the
little village of Cesson we drew rein to breathe our horses, and here
we had news of Simon. He had passed about an hour ago, riding easily
in the direction of Lieusaint, and keeping to the high road. At last
we were off once more, and leaving the plain of La Brie entered the
hilly country that sloped downwards to the valley of the Yères, and on
pulling up for a moment on the crest of a hill that lay to the
northwest of Lieusaint we got a glimpse of Simon. It was De Lorgnac
who saw him first.
"There!" he said, pointing before him into the valley. And craning
forward I looked too, and saw far in the distance a white speck--a mere
speck--moving rapidly on the cross road to Montgeron, and then we lost
him behind a line of trees.
"He is cutting off the angle!" I exclaimed. "Quick!" And I put
Lizette down the slope; but De Lorgnac called out after me: "He is lost
if he does that--he will meet the marsh of Brunoy, and must come
back--keep to the road!"
And, ding, dong, we galloped on the white track, white with dust
ourselves, our gallant horses kept up by their own matchless courage,
and by that alone.
"He must turn back from the marsh, and we get him at Villaneuve,"
shouted De Lorgnac to me as we hammered along, pointing as he spoke to
the wooded height that rose to our front above the willow-fringed
Yères. But he little knew Simon of Orrain. I made no reply; and
leaning forward in the saddle stroked the foam-wet neck that reached
out before me, and felt Lizette answer to my touch, as though she knew
that life and death lay in her speed.
As we raced on I watched the plain to our left, where Simon had
vanished, with hot eyes that reached everywhere--eyes that missed
nothing. But he was not to be seen, and hope began to spring up within
me that we had beaten him. I shook up the reins, and urged Lizette on
faster; but the brave heart was doing her best.
It was impossible that this could last, and as we galloped into
Montgeron I felt Lizette falter under me, and an oath broke from De
Lorgnac, for Cartouche had lost a shoe.
"We must get fresh horses here at any cost," I said as we pulled up at
the door of a small auberge, the only inn the village possessed; but
the wealth of Croesus would have been useless here, for other horses
were not procurable. And so, whilst Cartouche was being shod, we
off-saddled, giving the horses a drink of milk, and getting them rubbed
down hastily. Whilst this was going on we stood, moody and dejected,
surrounded by a group of yokels, the keeper of the auberge fussing near
us. After a time, more to ease my impatience than aught else, I
inquired if anyone had seen a man, mounted on a white horse, pass this
way, and offered five crowns for the information. The landlord shook
his head ruefully, for five crowns were five crowns; but a
rough-looking fellow, apparently a fowler, stepped out of the group
around us and claimed the reward.
"Ay," he said; "I have seen and spoken with him. He was dressed in
hunting green, and crossed the marsh a half-hour ago."
"But there is no way!"
"So he thought too; and it cost him five crowns to find it, for I
showed it to him. He is beyond Villaneuve now; but his horse is worn,
and, monsieur," he went on with a grin, "I will take those five crowns
from you. St. Siege! But this is the red day of my life!"
I paid him in silence, and Cartouche being reshod by this we pressed
forward once more; but hope had almost gone from me, and De Lorgnac's
set face was more expressive than any words. It was well on in the
afternoon when we saw the houses of Charenton, and but a league and a
half before us lay Paris, silhouetted in purple and grey against the
sky. We were trotting round the elbow of the wood that fringed the
banks of the Maren when we came suddenly on our man. He was seated on
the wall of the bridge, holding the reins of his horse in his hands;
and he saw us too, for we were scarce a hundred paces off. He was away
like a flash, looking but once behind him as he drove his spurs home,
and raced for Paris.
De Lorgnac gave a great cry, and neck and neck we followed him. If
ever man knew his peril, Simon did. Against one he would have fought
like a wolf; but against two the odds were hopeless, and with the rage
of a wolf in his heart he fled, taking to the country away from the
road in the hope of shaking us off.
As for me, I felt the hot blood throbbing in my temples, and all seemed
dark around me, except there where that bowed figure on the white horse
raced in front, carrying death in his hands, death for her who was to
me more than life. Lizette seemed to know it too, and stretched
beneath me like a greyhound; but I heard the sobbing breath that told
me of a beaten horse. Foot by foot De Lorgnac drew from me, the great
grey going like a stag; but still Simon held the front, and we gained
not a yard on him. Already we could see the Porte St. Michel lying
open before us; and now Simon looked back once more, and pointed at the
gate, laughing in triumph as he did so. It was then that my gallant
Lizette made a supreme effort. It seemed as if in two strides she had
caught up the grey and passed him; only to falter as she did so; then
there was a long stagger, and down she came.
By God's providence I was able to regain my feet almost as I fell. De
Lorgnac had pulled up beside me; but pointing to Simon, who had now
passed the gate, I called out: "Follow him; do not lose sight of him!"
With a nod he galloped on, and casting one look to the side of the road
where all that remained of my brave Lizette lay, I hurried after the
two.
The gates were not two hundred paces from me; and, sword in hand, as I
ran towards them someone came trotting up to me. I thought he was
riding at me, and had all but slashed his mount across the face, when
he pulled up, and I saw it was Le Brusquet on his mule.
"Hold!" he cried; "it is I. He cannot escape. De Lorgnac is on his
heels, and I have set the mob after him with a hue and cry." With this
he jumped from his mule and hastened on by my side, the mule trotting
after us.
I made no answer, said nothing, until we reached the gates, where an
excited crowd had collected, and then I asked: "Which way?"
"Do you not hear them shouting?" And Le Brusquet pointed to a crowd
running up the Rue de la Harpe. "Come!" And side by side we ran on.
Panting as he ran by me, Le Brusquet gasped out: "Mademoiselle is
confined in De Mouchy's house. It is there the Vidame must go for
safety with this mob at his heels. Hark! Hear them!"
And shrill and high we heard the cries, "Assassin! Assassin! _Tue_!
_Tue_!"
Le Brusquet chuckled. "It was a happy thought to set the mob on him,
and a happier thought still to pass my day at the gate." Still I made
no answer, but ran on with my teeth set. The mob swung round by the
Mathurins, and, forcing my way round the corner of the road, I saw they
were led by a madman, shouting, yelling, and muttering fearful
imprecations.
Using all my strength I headed the mob at last, only to find the madman
by my side. He glared at me for an instant, and then screamed out:
"You too! You too, friend! Then we shall both see him die." And
bursting into a horrid laugh he clawed at me with his hands. I thrust
him back, and it was only in doing so that the light of a sudden
recognition came to me. The miserable, frenzied being was none other
than De Ganache. God help him!
With another look of pity and horror I ran on; but fast as I went he
kept by me, and side by side we two led the crowd that howled after us
in pitiless rage.
We could see nothing of either Simon or De Lorgnac; but we did not want
for guides. A hundred fingers pointed out their course at every street
corner, and at last a white horse, riderless, and the reins trailing
loosely, came galloping out of a by-street; and a roar went up:
"He is down! he is down! In the Passage of Pity!"
With a yell the madman flashed past me, and hot foot on his heels we
crowded into the narrow street; but, save for a big grey horse
standing, with hanging head and heaving flanks, near the dark archway
at the head of the passage, it was empty. A howl of disappointment
rose behind me, and the mob halted and swayed irresolutely; but I felt
that the end was come, and ran on. Followed by Le Brusquet I passed
the archway, and there in the dark, vaulted passage, with his back to
the door of De Mouchy's house, stood Simon of Orrain, at bay at last!
De Lorgnac had been too quick for him, and had forced him to fight at
the very entrance of his lair. Covered with the dust of his reckless
ride, his gay hunting dress torn and soiled, bareheaded, and with the
blood streaming from a wound in his face, where De Lorgnac had touched
him, Simon stood, despair and hate in his look. Yet he fought fiercely
for his life; but he had met his equal with the sword, and, doing his
worst, could but hold on the defence and no more. He saw us as we
came. He saw too the hundred faces of the mob--the mob he had once
himself led to a deed of shame--glaring, shouting, and yelling at him
through the open archway, though not one dared to pass the entrance.
Escape was hopeless, and his pale face grew paler still, as with an
oath he wiped the blood from his lips with the back of his hand, and
screamed out to De Lorgnac:
"Stand aside, man! I have no quarrel with you! Stand back, or----"
But the thrust he made was parried with a wrist as sure as his own, and
it was only his own rare skill of fence that saved him from the riposte.
After all, he was blood of my blood, and it was not my hand that should
slay him. The thought came to me sudden and insistent, as I put my
blade beside that of De Lorgnac, and covering him with my point, saw
the grey despair in his eyes.
"Simon," I called out, "put down your sword. I promise your life!"
He spat at me in his fury, the fury of a beast, and I was a lost man if
De Lorgnac had not stayed his hand.
"God!" he burst out, "if there were only you!"
At my look--a glance that almost cost me my life--De Lorgnac stepped
back, lowering his point, and our swords crossed. Again parrying a
thrust, I once more offered Simon his life, only to meet with the same
refusal. There was no help for it! A life stood on the issue, to
which his was nothing to me, and setting my teeth I made at him. The
fury of my attack almost lost me the game, and I heard Le Brusquet's
low warning:
"Have a care. Remember!"
Suddenly Simon, who had gained a slight advantage, called out: "I
accept. I have lost." And he half raised his blade. I gave back,
lowering my point as I did so, and at that moment the door opened, and
with a laugh Simon sprang back, and vanished from our sight.
So quick, so instant was his retreat, that for a second I hardly
realised it. But someone else had. All unnoticed by us De Ganache had
been crouching in the shadow of the vaulted passage watching the
struggle and gibbering to himself--the only one of the mob who had
dared to venture so far. Perhaps he had been waiting for his chance
against the man who had destroyed his life, and had chosen the very
moment of Simon's flight for his revenge. Who knows? But as Simon
slipped back he sprang forward, something shining in his hand, and
flung himself desperately against the door ere it could be closed. The
moment's delay he caused was our chance, and rushing forward we too
added our weight to that of the maniac.
In an instant the door gave way, and we dashed in, the madman first,
striking to the right and left of him with a poniard. It is difficult,
almost impossible, to describe what followed. All that I know is that
I stumbled over someone who had fallen, and as I rose to my feet I
caught a glimpse of De Mouchy flying up the stair, Le Brusquet at his
heels, and realised at the same instant that Simon was on me, death in
his eyes.
Nothing could have saved me then, but that a stronger hand than that of
man was stretched forth to claim its own vengeance. As Simon's arm was
lifted the figure over which I had fallen raised itself to its knees
and, clasping the Vidame round the waist, buried a knife in his side.
With a fearful cry Simon shortened his sword and stabbed back in his
turn; but De Ganache, for it was he, uttered no sound, and with a last
effort, rising to his feet, struck Simon once more, this time to the
heart. And they both fell sideways, the madman's hand still clenching
the haft of the poniard in his death-grip.
It was over in a hand-turn, and the two who had died so terribly
together had taken their quarrel with them to the last judgment seat.
Simon's face I could not see; but as I bent over the two I saw in the
glazing eyes of De Ganache the light of an unutterable hate--a hate
that, mayhap, was carried beyond the grave.
"Orrain! Orrain!"
Twice the cry rang out--Le Brusquet's voice--and pushing my way past
the mob that had already swarmed in and begun to sack and pillage I ran
up the stair. At the head stood Le Brusquet, and huddled in a corner
near a door was De Mouchy, with a white, fear-stricken face and
chattering teeth, and De Lorgnac's sword at his heart.
Numbers had followed me, and at the sight of De Mouchy a roar went
forth that was taken up by those below.
"Give us the judge! Give us De Mouchy!"
Let it be remembered, that amongst those who cried for him to be thrown
to them were many who had suffered, or seen their dearest suffer,
hideous torture at his hands. Revenge, and such revenge as this, was
never dreamed of, never hoped for by them, and now that chance had
placed it within their reach they were almost mad for it. Shouting,
struggling, and raging they crowded the stair. A moment more, and De
Mouchy was lost; but it was then that Le Brusquet stayed them with a
jest, a grim jest that tickled their fancy, and arrested their
outstretched hands for a yet sweeter vengeance.
"A moment, my children!" he called out, barring the way at the head of
the stair; "one moment! We have a little business with monsieur here,
and after that you can make this house another Chambre Ardente if you
will."
They laughed and cheered him in their fickle mood, and as De Mouchy
heard too some choking words escaped from his blue lips, and he made a
forward movement, but at the sight of me he shrank back again, terror
and despair on his face, and, grovelling on the floor, wept for his
life.
This fiend, who had never shown mercy, now that his own time was come,
pleaded abjectly, pleaded with tears and miserable cries for the life
he had forfeited ten times over, and each frenzied appeal he made was
answered with mocking laughter by those who, crowded on the stair, were
waiting with patience, deadly patience, for the time when he would be
their very own.
I raised him to his feet, and in a few quick words asked him for
mademoiselle. He could not speak, but pointed to the door at his side.
It was closed, not locked, and, pushing it open, I dragged him through
after me. A cry of anger rose from those on the stair, who feared
their prey would escape, and, despite Le Brusquet's appeals, they were
no longer to be restrained. With a rush they bore back both Le
Brusquet and De Lorgnac, but keeping themselves between me and the
foremost of those who followed us, with alternate threats and appeals,
my brave friends enabled me to make headway. Down we went, along a
narrow passage, at one end of which was a door.
"There!" gasped De Mouchy. "Quick!"
Twice I put my shoulder to it, but in vain; and De Mouchy shrieked with
terror, for the mob was scarce ten feet from us, filling the passage.
But still De Lorgnac and Le Brusquet held them back at the sword's
point, and the way was so narrow that not more than three could stand
abreast therein.
"Stand back!" I heard Le Brusquet cry; "we are freeing a prisoner!"
"Give us De Mouchy!" they howled, and then the foremost three made a
dash forward. There was a smothered cry, and the leader, an
evil-looking villain, lurched forward on to his face. Back they fell
at this, for they were unarmed, and we got a moment's respite.
Again and again I put myself at the door, and at last it crashed open.
As I rushed in I saw a kneeling figure before me. One glance, and I
called out:
"Diane! It is I--Orrain!"
As she rose to her feet with a cry I put my arms around her to support
her, and then the brave heart gave way, and she began to sob on my
shoulder. So for a space we stood, and even the savage mob stayed
their course, and halted, peering at us across the two bright swords
that still held the passage.
It was now that De Mouchy made a last bid for life. In the momentary
respite he had from pursuit, as the mob halted, he slunk to the
farthest end of the room, and stood there, looking at us, with his back
to the wainscoting, his hands resting against it, and moving nervously,
as though he searched for something. Already those at the far end of
the passage were getting impatient, and angry cries began once more to
arise. As I put my arm round Diane to help her away we heard a click.
A door concealed in the wainscoting flew open, disclosing a dark
passage, into which De Mouchy dived, and vanished in a flash. But his
enemies were not to be denied; and this time no effort of De Lorgnac or
Le Brusquet could stay them. In his flight, whether overcome by fear,
or whether it were otherwise impossible, I cannot say, but De Mouchy
neglected to lock the secret door behind him. The mob, blood mad, and
now utterly out of hand, filled the room, and rushed after him. For a
space we ourselves were hemmed in, so that it was impossible to move,
and it was whilst we stood thus that there came a frightful shriek of
agony from the dark passage, and then the distant sound of struggling,
and again a shriek. God, and they who were there, alone knew what
happened; but as the mob swept through the room and into the dark
opening that was before them the way became clear, and we passed into
the street.
Cartouche was still there, standing where De Lorgnac had left him. At
a word from De Lorgnac I lifted mademoiselle into the saddle--though
wearied the great grey was well able to bear so light a burden--and
holding her there we made our way with all the speed we could out of
the Passage of Pity, Le Brusquet holding the horse.
When we reached the river face Le Brusquet turned back and pointed to
the sky. There were dark clouds of smoke rolling over the Mathurins.
"_Eh bien_," he said, "there is the expiation of Dom Antoine de Mouchy!"
A half-hour later we were in the Louvre, and I had surrendered my
charge to the Queen.
* * * * * *
About a month after the events I have just described I received the
Queen's commands to attend her at St. Germain-en-Laye, and that very
evening rode through the gates of the Vieux Chateau.
From the time that I had placed mademoiselle in safety in Catherine's
hands, with the aid of the two best friends man ever had, I had not
seen her. She had been ill, but was now recovered, and when I received
the Queen's message, I hoped that, perhaps, Fortune would give me a
chance to say farewell to Diane ere I departed for Italy to join
Montluc.
The Spanish war had broken out, and De Lorgnac was in the field at
Marienbourg. Le Brusquet had gone, none knew whither--perchance to see
the pears of Besmé--and as for me, I felt it was time to be up and
stirring. Things had changed with me, for I was now the Vidame
d'Orrain, and I might hope and dream again. Moved by these thoughts I
rode into the palace gates, followed by Pierrebon, and Monsieur de
Tolendal, who was in waiting, at once took me to the Queen.
I found Catherine surrounded by her ladies, but though my eyes searched
here, there, and everywhere I could not see the face I longed to see.
The Queen engaged me for a few moments in desultory talk, and then at a
sign from her we were left alone together.
"Monsieur le Vidame," she said, "is it true that you leave for Italy in
a few days?"
I bowed in silence.
"And you are resolved?"
"Madame!"
"In that case, perhaps, it is needless for me to say what I intended;
but, as a matter of fact, I have a government I would willingly
surrender, and thought of offering it to you."
"Madame!" I began; but she cut in upon my words.
"Take a moment to consider, monsieur! Go into the next room, through
that curtain there, and think over it for five minutes. Then come back
and tell me. Go!"
For a second I stared at her, and then did as I was bidden. As I
stepped in a figure rose from a seat near the window, and I heard
Diane's voice:
"Orrain, you have come to see me at last!"
And then what followed concerns not anyone. I know not how long we
were there, talking, planning, and dreaming; but suddenly the curtains
lifted, and Catherine stood before us.
"Monsieur d'Orrain," she said, "I await my answer."
And then she burst out laughing.
There is but a word more to add, and my story ends. We were married
the following week, for that was the Queen's wish, and then my wife and
I said farewell to Paris and the Court for ever. As we rode one
evening on our way to Orrain, round the elbow of the pine-clad hill of
St. Hugo, and the towers of the Chateau came in sight, I told my wife
of my dream, and then we were aware of a figure galloping up the
leaf-strewn road towards us. It was Le Brusquet on his mule.
"_Eh bien_!" he said as he kissed my wife's hand. "And I am the first
to welcome you home, after all! Orrain, _mon ami_, I have seen your
pears. They are finer than mine--I swear it!"