I.

A word of explanation becomes necessary at this point, after which we

will resume the thread of our narrative.

Indeed, it is high time for us to return to Nanon de Lartigues, who,

at the sight of poor ill-fated Richon expiring on the market-place at

Libourne, uttered a shriek and fell in a swoon.

Nanon, however, as our readers must ere this have discovered, was not a

woman of a weak and shrinking temperament. Despite her slender stature

she had borne long and bitter sorrows, had endured crushing fatigue,

and defied danger of the most appalling kind; and her sturdy, loving

heart, of more than ordinary steadfastness, could bend as circumstances

required, and rebound more stanch and courageous than ever after every

fillip of destiny.

The Duc d'Épernon, who knew her, or who thought that he knew her, was

naturally amazed therefore to see her so completely crushed by the

sight of mere physical suffering,--the same woman who, when her palace

at Agen was destroyed by fire, never uttered a cry (although she was

within an ace of being burned alive) lest she should give pleasure to

her enemies, who were thirsty for a sight of the torture which one

of them, more vindictive than the others, sought to inflict upon

the mistress of the detested governor; and who had looked on without

winking while two of her women were murdered by mistake for her.

Nanon's swoon lasted two hours, and was followed by a frightful attack

of hysteria, during which she could not speak, but could simply utter

inarticulate shrieks. It became so serious that the queen, who had sent

message upon message to her, paid her a visit in person, and Monsieur

de Mazarin insisted upon taking his place at her bedside to prescribe

for her as her physician. Apropos, he made great pretensions to skill

in the administration of medicine for the suffering body, as well as of

theology for the imperilled soul.

But Nanon did not recover consciousness until well into the night.

It was some time after that before she could collect her thoughts;

but at last, pressing her hands against her temples, she cried in a

heart-rending tone:

"I am lost! they have killed him!"

Luckily these words were so incomprehensible that those who heard

charged them to the account of delirium.

They left an impression on their minds, however, and when the Duc

d'Épernon returned the next morning from an expedition which had taken

him away from Libourne on the preceding afternoon, he learned at

the same time of her protracted swoon, and of the words she uttered

when she came to her senses. The duke was well acquainted with her

sensitive, excitable nature. He realized that there was something more

than delirium in her words, and hastened to her side.

"My dear girl," he said to her as soon as they were left alone, "I know

all that you have suffered in connection with the death of Richon, whom

they were so ill-advised as to hang in front of your windows."

"Oh yes! it was fearful! it was infamous!"

"Another time," said the duke, "now that I know the effect it has upon

you, I will see to it that rebels are hanged on the Place du Cours, and

not on the Place du Marché. But of whom were you speaking when you said

that they had killed him? It couldn't have been Richon, I fancy; for

Richon was never anything to you, not even a simple acquaintance."

"Ah! is it you, Monsieur le Duc?" said Nanon, supporting herself on her

elbow and seizing his arm.

"Yes, it is I; and I am very glad that you recognize me, for that

proves that you are getting better. But of whom were you speaking?"

"Of him, Monsieur le Duc, of him!" cried Nanon; "you have killed him!

Oh, the poor, poor boy!"

"Dear heart, you frighten me! what do you mean?"

"I mean that you have killed him. Do you not understand, Monsieur le

Duc?"

"No, my dear," replied D'Épernon, trying to induce Nanon to speak by

entering into the ideas her delirium suggested to her; "how can I have

killed him, when I do not know him?"

"Do you not know that he is a prisoner of war, that he was a captain,

that _he_ was commandant of a fortress, that he had the same titles

and the same rank as this unhappy Richon, and that the Bordelais will

avenge upon him the murder of the man whose murder you were responsible

for? For it's of no use for you to pretend that it was done according

to law, Monsieur le Duc; it was a downright murder!"

The duke, completely unhorsed by this apostrophe, by the fire of her

flashing eyes, and by her nervous, energetic gestures, turned pale, and

beat his breast.

"Oh! 't is true!" he cried, "'t is true! poor Canolles! I had forgotten

him!"

"My poor brother! my poor brother!" cried Nanon, happy to be at liberty

to give vent to her emotion, and bestowing upon her lover the title

under which Monsieur d'Épernon knew him.

_"Mordieu!_ you are right," said the duke, "and I have lost my wits.

How in God's name could I have forgotten the poor fellow? But nothing

is lost; they can hardly have heard the news at Bordeaux as yet; and it

will take time to assemble the court-martial, and to try him. Besides,

they will hesitate."

"Did the queen hesitate?" Nanon retorted.

"But the queen is the queen; she has the power of life and death. They

are rebels."

"Alas!" said Nanon, "that's an additional reason why they should not

stand on ceremony; but what do you mean to do? Tell me."

"I don't know yet, but rely on me."

"Oh!" cried Nanon, trying to rise, "if I have to go to Bordeaux myself,

and surrender myself in his place, he shall not die."

"Never fear, dear heart, this is my affair. I have caused the evil and

I will repair it, on the honor of a gentleman. The queen still has some

friends in the city, so do not you be disturbed."

The duke made her this promise from the bottom of his heart.

Nanon read in his eyes determination, sincerity, and good-will, and

her joy was so overpowering that she seized his hands, and said as she

pressed them to her burning lips:--

"Oh, Monseigneur, if you succeed, how I will love you!"

The duke was moved to tears; it was the first time that Nanon had ever

spoken to him so expansively or made him such a promise.

He at once rushed from the room, renewing his assurances to Nanon

that she had nothing to fear. Sending for one of his retainers, whose

shrewdness and trust-worthiness were well known to him, he bade him

go at once to Bordeaux, make his way into the city, even if he had

to scale the ramparts, and hand to Lavie, the advocate-general, the

following note, written from beginning to end by his own hand:--

"See to it that no harm comes to Monsieur de Canolles,

captain and commandant in his Majesty's service.

"If he has been arrested, as is probable, use all possible

means to set him free; bribe his keepers with whatever sum

they demand,--a million if need be,--and pledge the word of

Monsieur le Duc d'Épernon for the governorship of a royal

château.

"If bribery is unavailing, use force; stop at nothing;

violence, fire, murder will be overlooked.

"Description: tall, brown eye, hooked nose. If in doubt, ask

him this question:--

_"'Are you Nanon's brother?'"_

"Above all things _haste_ there is not a moment to lose."

The messenger set out and was at Bordeaux within three hours. He went

to a farm-house, exchanged his coat for a peasant's smock-frock, and

entered the city driving a load of meal.

Lavie received the letter quarter of an hour after the decision of

the court-martial. He went at once to the fortress, talked with

the jailer-in-chief, offered him twenty thousand livres,--which he

refused, then thirty thousand, which he also refused, and finally forty

thousand, which he accepted.

We know how Cauvignac, misled by the question which Monsieur d'Épernon

relied upon as a safeguard against mistake, "Are you Nanon's brother?"

yielded to what was perhaps the only generous impulse he had ever

felt during his life, and answered, "Yes," and thus, to his unbounded

amazement, regained his freedom.

A swift horse bore him to the village of Saint-Loubes, which was in the

hands of the royalists. There they found a messenger from the duke,

come to meet the fugitive on the duke's own horse, a Spanish mare of

inestimable value.

"Is he saved?" he demanded of the leader of Cauvignac's escort.

"Yes," was the reply, "we have him here."

That was all that the messenger sought to learn; he turned his horse

about, and darted away like a flash in the direction of Libourne. An

hour and a half later, the horse fell exhausted at the city gate,

and sent his rider headlong to the ground at the feet of Monsieur

d'Épernon, who was fuming with impatience to hear the one word,

"yes." The messenger, half-dead as he was, had sufficient strength to

pronounce that word which cost so dear, and the duke hurried away,

without losing a second, to Nanon's lodgings, where she lay upon her

bed, gazing wildly at the door, which was surrounded by servants.

"Yes!" cried D'Épernon; "yes, he is saved, dear love; he is at my

heels, you will see him in a moment."

Nanon fairly leaped for joy; these few words removed from her breast

the weight that was stifling her. She raised her hands to heaven, and,

with her face wet with the tears this unhoped for happiness drew from

her eyes, which despair had made dry, cried in an indescribable tone:--

"Oh! my God, my God! I thank thee!"

As she brought her eyes back to earth, she saw at her side the Duc

d'Épernon, so happy in her happiness that one would have said his

interest in the dear prisoner was no less deep than hers. Not until

then did this disturbing thought come to her mind:--

"How will the duke be recompensed for his kindness, his solicitude,

when he sees the stranger in the brother's place, an almost adulterous

passion substituted for the pure sentiment of sisterly affection?"

Her reply to her own question was short and to the point.

"No matter!" she thought, "I will deceive him no longer; I will tell

him the whole story; he will turn me Out and curse me; then I will

throw myself at his feet to thank him for all he has done for me these

three years past, and that done, I will go hence poor and humble, but

rich in my love, and happy in the anticipation of the new life that

awaits us."

In the midst of this dream of self-denial, of ambition sacrificed to

love, the throng of servants opened to give passage to a man who rushed

into the room where Nanon lay, crying:--

"My sister! my dear sister!"

Nanon sat up in bed, opened her startled eyes to their fullest extent,

turned paler than the belaced pillow behind her head, and for the

second time fell back in consternation, muttering:--

"Cauvignac! my God! Cauvignac!"

"Cauvignac!" the duke repeated, looking wonderingly about, evidently in

search of the man to whom that exclamation was addressed. "Cauvignac!

is any one here named Cauvignac?"

Cauvignac was careful not to reply; he was not as yet sufficiently

sure of his safety to justify a frankness which even under ordinary

circumstances would have sat strangely upon him. He realized that by

answering to the name he would ruin his sister, and would infallibly

ruin himself at the same time; he held his peace therefore, and

allowed Nanon to speak, reserving the right to correct her mistakes.

"What of Monsieur de Canolles?" she cried in a tone of angry reproach,

darting a flaming glance at Cauvignac.

The duke frowned and began to bite his moustache. All those present,

save Francinette, who was very pale, and Cauvignac, who did his utmost

not to turn pale, knew not what to think of this burst of wrath, and

gazed at one another in amazement.

"Poor sister!" whispered Cauvignac in the duke's ear, "she was so

alarmed for me that her brain is turned and she doesn't know me."

"I am the one to whom you must reply, villain!" cried Nanon. "Where is

Monsieur de Canolles? What has become of Him? Answer, answer, I tell

you!"

Cauvignac formed a desperate resolution; it was necessary to risk

everything to win everything, and to rely upon his impudence to carry

him through; for to seek safety in confession, to inform the Duc

d'Épernon of the fact that the false Canolles, whose fortune he had

made his care, was identical with the Cauvignac who had levied troops

against the queen, and had then sold those same troops to the queen,

was equivalent to going voluntarily to join Richon on the gallows. He

therefore went close to the Duc d'Épernon, and said to him with tears

in his eyes:--

"Monsieur, this is no mere delirium, but downright madness; grief has

turned her brain so that she does not recognize those who are nearest

to her. If any one can restore her lost reason, you understand that it

is myself; I beg you therefore to send away all the servants, except

Francinette, who may remain at hand to look to her wants; for it would

be as disagreeable to you as to myself, to see strangers laughing at

the expense of my poor sister."

Perhaps the duke would not have yielded so readily to this specious

reasoning,--for, credulous as he was, he began to be suspicious of

Cauvignac,--had he not received a summons to wait upon the queen,

Monsieur de Mazarin having convoked an extraordinary session of the

council.

While the messenger was delivering his message, Cauvignac leaned over

Nanon, and said in her ear:--

"In Heaven's name, sister, be calm! If we can exchange a few words in

private, all will be well."

Nanon fell back upon the bed, more self-controlled at all events, if no

calmer; for hope, however small the dose, is a balm which allays the

heart-ache.

The duke, having decided to play the part of Orgon and Géronte to the

end, returned to Nanon and kissed her hand, saying:--

"The crisis has passed, I trust, my dear; I leave you with the brother

who is so dear to you, for the queen has sent for me. Believe me,

nothing less than her Majesty's commands would induce me to leave your

side at such a moment."

Nanon felt that her strength was failing her. She could not answer the

duke, but simply looked at Cauvignac and pressed his hand as if to

say:--

"Have you not deceived me, brother? May I really hope?"