"Oh! Monsieur Lenet, I would that I might see her once more!"
"Do you wish me to go in search of her, and bring her to you?" asked
Lenet, who had no longer any will of his own.
"Oh! yes," whispered Canolles.
"Very well! I will go; but you will kill her."
"So much the better!" whispered selfishness to the young man's heart;
"if you kill her, she will never belong to another."
But he overcame this last weakness as suddenly as it assailed him.
"No, no," said he, seizing Lenet's hand; "you promised to remain with
me, so remain."
"What does he say?" the duke inquired of the captain of the guards.
Canolles overheard the question.
"I was saying, Monsieur le Duc," said he, "that I thought it was not so
far from the prison to the Esplanade."
"Alas!" interposed Lenet, "do not complain of the distance, my poor
boy, for we have arrived."
As he spoke the torch-bearers and the head of the procession
disappeared around a street-corner.
Lenet pressed the young man's hand, then went up to the duke,
determined to make one last effort before they actually reached the
place of execution.
"Monsieur," said he, "once more I implore you for mercy! you will ruin
our cause by executing Monsieur de Canolles."
"On the contrary," retorted the duke, "we prove that we deem it a just
cause, as we do not fear to make reprisals."
"But reprisals can only be made between equals, Monsieur le Duc,
and whatever you may say, the queen will still be queen, and we her
subjects."
"Let us not discuss such matters before Monsieur de Canolles," rejoined
the duke aloud; "surely you can see the impropriety."
"Do not speak of mercy before Monsieur le Duc;" retorted Canolles;
"surely you can see that his _coup d'État_ is in process of
accomplishment; do not annoy him for so small a matter."
The duke made no reply; but his compressed lips and his ironical glance
showed that the blow had struck home. Meanwhile they had not ceased
to go forward, and Canolles now found himself at the entrance to the
Esplanade. In the distance, that is, at the other side of the square,
could be seen the crowd, in a vast circle formed by the glittering
musket-barrels. In the centre arose a shapeless black something, which
Canolles could not clearly distinguish in the shadow, and he thought
that it was an ordinary scaffold. But when the torches reached the
centre of the square, their light fell full upon that black object, at
first unrecognizable, and revealed the hideous silhouette of a gibbet.
"A gibbet!" cried Canolles, halting, and pointing to the structure. "Is
not that a gibbet that I see yonder, Monsieur le Duc?"
"It is; you are not mistaken," he replied, coldly.
A wrathful flush reddened the young man's brow; he threw aside the
two soldiers who were marching on either hand, and at one bound found
himself face to face with Monsieur de La Rochefoucauld.
"Monsieur," he cried, "do you forget that I am of gentle blood? All the
world knows, even the executioner himself, that a nobleman is entitled
to be beheaded."
"Monsieur, there are circumstances--"
"It is not in my own name that I speak," Canolles interrupted, "but in
the name of all the nobility, in which you hold so high a place, who
have been prince and are now duke; it will be a lasting shame, not for
me, who am innocent, but for one and all of you, that one of your caste
should die upon the gallows."
"Monsieur, Richon was hanged by order of the king."
"Richon, monsieur, was a gallant soldier, and at heart as noble as any
man in this wide world, but he was not of noble birth; I am."
"You forget," said the duke, "that this is a matter of reprisals; were
you a prince of the blood, we would hang you."
Canolles instinctively put his hand to his side for his sword, but when
he failed to find it there, the realization of his situation came over
him once more in all its force; his wrath vanished, and he remembered
that his real superiority lay in his very weakness.
"Monsieur philosopher," said he, "woe to those who resort to reprisals,
and woe thrice over to those who, when they resort to them, lay aside
all humanity! I did not plead for mercy, but justice. There are those
who love me, monsieur; I emphasize the word, because I am aware that
you yourself do not appreciate how one can love. Upon the hearts of
those who love me you are about to impress forever, with the memory
of my death, the dishonoring image of the gibbet. A sword-thrust, I
beseech you, or a musket-ball! Give me your dagger that I may kill
myself, and then you may hang my dead body if it will give you any
pleasure."
"Richon was hanged alive, monsieur," was the cold reply.
"Be it so! Now, listen to what I say. Some day some frightful
misfortune will overtake you; when that day comes, you will remember
that it is punishment from on high: for my own part, I die with the
firm conviction that my death is your work."
Thereupon Canolles, shuddering and pale, but filled with exalted
courage, approached the gallows and stood, proud and disdainful, facing
the populace, with his foot upon the first step of the ladder.
"Now, executioner," said he, "do your duty."
"There is only one!" cried the crowd in amazement; "the other! where is
the other? we were promised two!"
"Ah! that is one thing that consoles me in a measure," said Canolles,
with a smile; "this amiable populace is not content with what you are
doing for it; do you hear what it says, Monsieur le Duc?"
"Death! death! vengeance for Richon!" roared ten thousand voices.
"If I irritate them," thought Canolles, "they are quite capable of
tearing me in pieces; in that case I shall not be hanged, and Monsieur
le Duc will go insane with rage.
"You are cowards!" he cried; "I see some among you who took part in
the attack on Saint-Georges, when I made you all run away! You are
venting your spite on me to-day because I whipped you."
A roar of rage was the only reply.
"You are cowards!" he repeated; "rebels, villains!"
A thousand knives gleamed in the air, and stones began to fall at the
gallows foot.
"Good!" muttered Canolles. "The king hanged Richon," he added aloud,
"and he did well; when he takes Bordeaux, he will hang many another--"
At these words the crowd rushed like a torrent toward the gallows,
broke through the guards, overturned the palisades, and threw
themselves, roaring like wild beasts, upon the prisoner.
At a gesture from the duke, one of the executioners raised Canolles by
taking him under the arms, while the other adjusted a noose around his
neck.
Canolles felt the cord and redoubled his taunts and insults; if he
wished to be killed in time he had not a moment to lose.
At that supreme moment he looked around for the last time; he could
see naught but naming eyes and threatening arms. One man, however, a
mounted soldier, pointed to his musket.
"Cauvignac! 'tis Cauvignac!" cried Canolles, clinging to the ladder
with both his hands, which were not bound.
Cauvignac made a motion indicating that he had been unable to save him,
and levelled his weapon at him. Canolles understood him.
"Yes, yes!" he cried, emphasizing his words with his head.
Now let us see how Cauvignac happened to be at hand.