"Yes, Monsieur le Duc, the crisis seems to have passed, and my sister
will soon realize that she has by her side a faithful and devoted
heart, ready to undertake anything to make her happy."
Nanon could restrain herself no longer; she burst out sobbing as
if her heart would break, for so many things had combined to break
her spirit that she was no longer anything more than an ordinary
woman,--weak, that is to say, and dependent upon tears to give vent to
her emotion.
The duke left the room, shaking his head, and commending Nanon to
Cauvignac's care with an eloquent look.
"Oh! how that man tortures me!" cried Nanon, as soon as his back was
turned; "if he had remained a moment longer, I believe I should have
died."
Cauvignac raised his hand to bid her be silent; then he put his ear to
the door to make sure that the duke had really gone.
"Oh! what care I," cried Nanon, "whether he listens or does not listen?
You whispered two words in my ear to give me comfort; tell me what you
think, what you hope!"
"Sister," replied Cauvignac, assuming a grave demeanor, which was
by no means habitual with him, "I will not tell you that I am sure
of success, but I will repeat what I said before, that I will do
everything in the world to succeed."
"To succeed in what?" demanded Nanon; "we understand one another this
time, do we not; there is no ghastly practical joke between us?"
"To succeed in saving the unfortunate Canolles."
Nanon gazed at him with terrifying intensity.
"He is lost, is he not?"
"Alas!" was the reply; "if you ask me for my honest, outspoken opinion,
I admit that the prospect is dark."
"How indifferently he says it!" cried Nanon. "Do you know, wretch, what
that man is to me?"
"I know that he is a man whom you prefer to your brother, since you
would have saved him rather than me, and when you saw me you welcomed
me with a curse."
Nanon made an impatient gesture.
"_Pardieu!_ you are right," said Cauvignac; "I do not say that by
way of reproach, but as a simple observation; for look you, with my
hand upon my heart--I do not say upon my conscience, for fear I have
none--I declare that if we were together once more in the cell in
Château-Trompette, knowing what I know, I would say to Monsieur de
Canolles, 'Monsieur, Nanon calls you her brother; it is you they seek,
not I,'--and he would come to you in my place, and I would die in his."
"Then he is to die!" cried Nanon in a burst of grief, which proves that
in the best organized minds death never presents itself as a certainty,
but always as a fear simply; "then he is to die!"
"Sister," Cauvignac replied, "this is all that I can tell you, and upon
it we must base all that we do. In the two hours since I left Bordeaux
many things may have happened; but do not despair, for it is equally
true that absolutely nothing at all may have happened. Here is an idea
that has come into my head."
"Tell it me, quickly."
"I have a hundred men and my lieutenant within a league of Bordeaux."
"A sure man?"
"Ferguzon."
"Well?"
"Well, sister, whatever Monsieur de Bouillon may say, whatever Monsieur
de La Rochefoucauld may do, whatever Madame la Princesse may think, who
deems herself a far greater captain than her two generals, I have an
idea that, with my hundred men, half of whom I will sacrifice, I can
make my way to Monsieur de Canolles."
"Oh! you deceive yourself, brother; you will never get to him; you will
never get to him!"
"But I will, _morbleu!_ or I will die in the attempt!"
"Alas! your death would prove your good-will, but it would not save
him. He is lost! he is lost!"
"But I tell you no, even if I have to give myself up in his place,"
cried Cauvignac, in a burst of quasi-generosity that surprised himself.
"Give yourself up!"
"Yes, to be sure; for no one has any reason to hate Monsieur de
Canolles; on the other hand, every one loves him, while I am
universally detested."
"Why should you be detested?"
"For the simplest of reasons; because I have the honor to be bound to
you by the closest ties of blood. Forgive me, my dear sister, but what
I say is extremely flattering to a good royalist."
"Wait a moment," said Nanon, putting her finger on her lips.
"I am listening."
"You say that I am bitterly detested by the people of Bordeaux?"
"Why, they fairly execrate you."
"Is it so?" said Nanon, with a smile, half-pensive, half-joyous.
"I did not think I was telling you something that would be so agreeable
to you to hear."
"Yes, yes," said Nanon, "it is very sensible at all events, if not
exactly agreeable. Yes, you are right," she continued, speaking rather
to herself than to her brother; "they do not hate Monsieur de Canolles,
nor do they hate you. Wait, wait!"
She rose, threw a long silk cloak about her lithe and graceful form,
and, sitting at her table, hastily wrote a few lines, which Cauvignac,
as he watched the flush that mounted to her brow, and the heaving of
her bosom, judged to be of great moment.
"Take this," said she, sealing the letter, "and ride alone to Bordeaux,
without soldiers or escort. There is a mare in the stable that can do
the distance in an hour. Bide as fast as she will carry you, deliver
this letter to Madame la Princesse, and Monsieur de Canolles is saved!"
Cauvignac looked at his sister in open-mouthed amazement; but he
knew how clear-sighted she was, and wasted no time criticising her
instructions. He hurried to the stable, leaped upon the horse she
had described, and half an hour thereafter was more than half-way to
Bordeaux.
Nanon, as soon as she saw him from her window galloping away, knelt,
atheist as she was, and repeated a short prayer; after which she
bestowed her money and jewels in a casket, ordered a carriage, and bade
Francinette array her in her most splendid garments.