THE ISLE OF SAINTE MARGUERITE.
At this answer, which he was so far from anticipating, the exempt gave
a start of surprise, and looked at the Count as if he had not exactly
understood him.
The gentleman smiled gently.
"That surprises you, does it not?" he said.
"I confess it, my lord," the other stammered, with embarrassment.
The Count went on:
"Yes," he said, "I can understand your surprise at my refusal to accept
your generous proposition. It is not often you find a prisoner to whom
liberty is offered, and who insists on remaining a captive. I owe you
an explanation of this extraordinary conduct; this explanation I will
give you at once, so that you may no longer press me, but leave me to
act as I think proper."
"I am only the most humble, of your servants, my lord Count. You
doubtless know better than I what your conduct should be under the
circumstances, you have therefore no occasion to explain it to me."
"It is precisely because you are an old servant of my family, François
Bouillot, and because you are giving me at this moment a proof of
unbounded devotion, that I believe myself obliged to tell you the
motives for this refusal, which has so many reasons to surprise you.
Listen to me, then."
"As you insist, my lord, I obey you."
"Very good, take a chair, and place yourself here by my side, as it is
unnecessary for others beside yourself to hear what I am going to say."
The exempt took a stool and seated himself by his master's side,
exactly as the latter had ordered, while still keeping up a respectful
distance between himself and the gentleman.
"In the first place," the Count resumed, "be thoroughly convinced that
if I refuse your offer, it is not through any motive of a personal
nature as regards yourself. I have full confidence in you, for nearly
200 years your family has been attached to mine, and we have ever had
reason to praise their devotion to our interest. This important point
being settled, I will go on. I will suppose for a moment that the
plan you have formed is successful, a plan which I will not discuss,
although it appears to me very difficult to execute, and the slightest
accident might, at the last moment, compromise its issue. What will
happen? Forced to fly without resources, without friends, I should not
only be unable to take the revenge I meditate upon my enemies, but
surrendered, so to speak, to their mercy, I should speedily fall into
their hands again, and thus become the laughing stock of those whom I
hate. I should be dishonoured; they will despise me, and I shall have
but one way of escape from a life henceforth rendered useless, as all
my plans would be overthrown, and that is blowing out my brains."
"Oh! my lord!" Bouillot exclaimed, clasping his hands.
"I do not wish to fall," the Count continued imperturbably, "in the
terrible struggle which has this day begun between my enemies and
myself. I have taken an oath, and that oath I will keep, regardless
of the consequences. I am young, hardly twenty-five years of age; up
to the present, life has only been one long joy for me, and I have
succeeded in everything, plans of ambition, fortune and love. Today
misfortune has come to lay its hand on me, and it is welcome; for the
man who has not suffered is not a perfect man; grief purifies the mind
and tempers the heart. Solitude is a good councillor; it makes a man
comprehend the nothingness of small things, expands the ideas, and
prepares grand conceptions. I require to steel myself through sorrow,
in order to be able one day to repay my enemies a hundredfold all
that I have suffered at their hands. It is by thinking over my broken
career and my ruined future, that I shall find the necessary strength
to accomplish my vengeance. When my heart is dead to every other
feeling but that of the hatred which will entirely occupy it, I shall
be able pitilessly to trample underfoot all those who today laugh at
me and believe they have crushed me, because they have hurled me down;
and then I shall be really a man, and woe to those who try to measure
their strength with mine. You tremble at what I am saying to you at
this moment, my old servant," he added more gently, "what would it be
were you able to read in my heart all the hatred, auger, and rage it
contains against those who have mercilessly ground me beneath their
heel, and who have eternally deprived me of happiness, in order to
satisfy the paltry calculations of a narrow and criminal ambition?"
"Oh, my lord Count! Permit an old servant of your family, a man who is
entirely devoted to you, to implore you to resign these fearful schemes
of vengeance. Alas! You will be the first victim of your hatred."
"Have you forgotten, Bouillot," the Count replied ironically, "what is
said in our country, about the members of the family to which I have
the honor of belonging?"
"Yes, yes, my lord," he said with a melancholy shake of the head; "I
remember it, and will repeat it if you wish."
"Do so."
"Well, my lord, the distich is as follows--"
"'The Counts of Barmont Senectaire, Demon-hate and heart of stone.'"
The Count smiled.
"Well do you fancy that I have degenerated from my ancestors?"
"I suppose nothing, sir, Heaven forbid!" he answered humbly, "I only
see with terror that you are preparing a hideous future for yourself."
"Be it so! I accept it in all its rigor, if God will permit me to
accomplish my oath."
"Alas! My lord, you know that man proposes; you are at this moment a
prisoner of the Cardinal; reflect, I implore you, who knows whether
you will ever leave the prison to which I am conducting you? Consent to
be free."
"No; cease your entreaties! The Cardinal is not immortal. If not
before, my liberty will be restored me on his death, which cannot
be long deferred, I hope. And now carefully bear this in mind, my
resolution is so fixed, that if in spite of my orders you abandon me
here, at the inn where we now are, the first use I should make of the
liberty you have given me back, would be to go at once and surrender
myself into the hands of his Eminence; you understand me thoroughly, I
suppose?"
The old servant bowed his head without answering, and two tears slowly
ran down his cheeks.
This dumb grief, so true and so touching, affected the Count more than
he would have supposed; he rose, took the poor fellow's hand and shook
it several times.
"Let us say no more about this, Bouillot," he remarked to him
affectionately, "although I will not profit by it, your devotion has
deeply affected me, and I will ever feel eternally grateful to you for
it. Come, my old friend, let us not grow foolish; we are men and not
childish poltroons, confound it."
"Well, no matter, my lord, I do not consider myself beaten," the exempt
replied, as he threw himself into the arms open to receive him; "you
cannot prevent me from watching over you, whether near or afar."
"That I do not oppose, my friend," the Count replied with a laugh; "do
as you please; besides," he added seriously, "I confess that I shall
not be sorry when I am sequestered from the world to know what is going
on, and to be kept informed, of passing events; some unforeseen fact
might occur which would modify my intentions and make me desire the
recovery of my liberty."
"Oh, be sure of that, my lord," he exclaimed, pleased at this quasi
victory and conditional promise, "I will arrange so that you shall not
be at a loss for news; I have not served his Eminence for six years
for nothing; the Cardinal is a good master, I have profited by his
teaching, and know several tricks; you shall see me at work."
"Well, that is agreed, and we understand each other now. I think it
would be wise to breakfast before continuing our journey, for I feel an
appetite that greatly requires appeasing."
"I will give the landlord orders to serve you at once, my lord."
"You will breakfast with me, Bouillot," he said as he gave him a
friendly tap on the shoulder; "and I hope it will be always so, until
our arrival at the Isle of St. Marguerite."
"It is certainly a great honour for me, sir, but--"
"I expect it; besides are you not almost a member of my family?"
François Bouillot bowed and left the room; after ordering a copious
breakfast, he commanded one part of the escort back to Paris; then
he returned to the room, followed by the landlord, who, in a second,
covered the table with all that was wanted to make a good meal, and
withdrew discreetly, leaving his guests to attack the dishes placed
before them.
The journey was continued without any incident worthy of note.
The prisoner's conversation with his keeper had been decisive; the
latter was too well acquainted with the character of the man with whom
he had to deal to attempt to revert to a subject which had been so
distinctly disposed of on the first occasion.
At the period when our history takes place, France was not as now
intersected by magnificent roads, and the shortest journey demanded
an enormous expenditure of time; the coaches, heavy vehicles badly
built and worse horsed, had great difficulty in resisting the numerous
joltings and the ruts in which they were for the greater portion of
the time buried up to the axletree, and hence, in spite of the speed
employed, seventeen days elapsed ere the prisoner and his escort
arrived at Toulon.
This town was even at that early period one of the principal military
ports of France, and the Count felt an indescribable pang at heart when
he entered it.
It was in this town that his naval career had begun, here for the first
time he had set foot aboard a vessel with the rank of midshipman, and
had undergone the preparatory trials of that rude naval profession, in
which, in spite of his youth, he soon attained a great reputation and
almost celebrity.
The coach stopped in the Haymarket, in front of the "Cross of Malta,"
probably the oldest inn in France, for it is still in existence,
although it has undergone many indispensable changes both internally
and externally.
So soon as he had installed his prisoner comfortably in the Inn,
François Bouillot went out.
If he placed a sentry before the Count's door, it was rather in
obedience to his duty, than through any fear of escape, for he had not
even taken the trouble to lock the door, so convinced was he beforehand
that unfortunately his prisoner would not attempt to pass out of it.
He remained away for about two hours.
"You have been absent a long time," the Count remarked on his return.
"I had some important business to settle," he replied.
The Count, without adding a word, resumed his walk up and down the room
which Bouillot's return had interrupted.
There was a momentary silence, Bouillot was evidently embarrassed,
he went about the room, pretending to arrange sundry articles of
furniture, and disarranging everything; at last seeing that the Count
obstinately remained silent and would not perceive that he was in the
room, he placed himself in front of him so as to bar his passage, and
looked at him intently as he whispered with a stress on the words.
"You do not ask where I have been."
"What is the use?" the Count replied carelessly; "About your own
business, of course."
"No, my lord, about yours."
"Ah!" he said.
"Yes, the _Seamew_ awaits you."
The Count smiled and slightly shrugged his shoulders.
"Ah, ah, you are still thinking of that; I believed, my dear Bouillot,
that it was arranged between us that we should not return to this
subject. That was the reason, then, that you lengthened our journey, by
making us pass through Toulon, at which I felt surprised. I could not
account for the strange itinerary you were following."
"My lord," he muttered, clasping his hands imploringly.
"Come, you are mad, my dear Bouillot, you ought to know by this time,
though, that when I have formed a resolution, good or bad, I never
alter it; so no more of this, I beg, it would be quite useless. I
pledge you my word as a gentleman."
The old servant uttered a groan that resembled a death rattle.
"Your will be done, my lord," he stammered. "When do we start for
Antibes?"
"At once, if you wish it."
"Very good, the sooner the better."
After bowing, the exempt left the room to make all preparations for
departure.
As we see, the parts were completely introverted, it was the prisoner
who gave orders to his keeper.
One hour later, in fact, the Count quitted Toulon. All along the road
the two men, constantly companions, and eating and drinking together,
conversed about indifferent matters. Bouillot had at last recognized
the fact that it was useless to make any further effort to induce the
Count to escape; still he had not given up his scheme, but merely
deferred it till a more distant period, reckoning as an ally the
annoyance of a prolonged detention, and an inactive and useless life
upon an organization so impetuous as that of the prisoner.
So soon as he arrived at Antibes, by the express command of the Count,
who seemed to take a certain pleasure in tormenting him, he set out in
search of some boat to carry them across to Sainte Marguerite.
His search was neither long nor difficult; as bearer of a Cardinal's
order, he laid an embargo on the first fishing boat he came across,
and embarked aboard it with all his people.
On leaving the mainland, the Count turned, and a smile of peculiar
meaning played round his lips.
Bouillot, deceived by this smile, whose secret intention he did not
penetrate, bent down to the Count's ear.
"If you like, there is still time," he whispered.
The Count looked at him, shrugged his shoulders, and without replying,
sat down in the stern of the boat.
"Push off," Bouillot then shouted to the master.
The latter seized his boathook, and they were soon under weigh.
The Lerins islands form a group composed of several rocks, and
two islands surrounded by shoals; the first known as Isle Sainte
Marguerite, the second as Saint Honorat.
At the period of our narration only the first was fortified; the other,
inhabited by a few fishermen, merely contained the still considerable
ruins of the monastery founded by Saint Honorat circa the year 400.
The Sainte Marguerite island was uninhabited, flat, and only offering
along its entire coast, one very unsafe creek for vessels. Although
it is extremely fertile, and pomegranates, orange and fig trees, grow
there in the open air, no one had thought of taking up his abode there,
and we are not aware whether a change has since taken place.
A very important fortress, which, at a later date, attained a
melancholy reputation as a state prison, was erected on the island, the
greater portion of which it occupied.
This fort was composed of three towers, connected together by terraces,
which time had covered with a yellowish moss, while a wide deep moat
surrounded the walls.
A few years prior to the beginning of our story, in 1635, the Spaniards
had seized it by surprise.
The Cardinal, in order to prevent the repetition of such a calamity,
had judged it advisable to protect the fort from a _coup de main_, by
placing there a garrison of fifty picked soldiers, commanded by a major
performing the duties of governor. He was an old officer of fortune,
whom this post served as a retreat, and who, far from the cares of the
world, led a perfect canonical life, thanks to a tacit understanding
with the smugglers, who alone cast anchor in these parts.
The officer who commanded the fort at this moment was an old gentleman,
tall, thin, and wizened, with harsh features, who had had a leg and
arm cut off. His name was Monsieur de l'Oursière; he was constantly
scolding and abusing his subordinates, and the day when he left the
Crown regiment, in which he held the rank of major, was kept as a
holiday by the whole regiment, officers and men; so cordially was the
worthy man detested.
Cardinal de Richelieu was a good judge of men; in selecting Major de
l'Oursière to make him governor of Sainte Marguerite, and metamorphose
him into a gaoler, he had found the exact post which suited his
quarrelsome temper, and his cruel instincts.
It was on this amiable personage that the Count de Barmont would
have to be dependant for doubtless a considerable period; for, if
the Cardinal Minister easily shut the gate of a state prison on a
gentleman, to make up for it, he was never in a hurry to open it again,
and a prisoner, unless something extraordinary occurred, was almost
safe to die forgotten in his dungeon, except when his Eminence had a
whim to have his head cut off in broad daylight.
After a number of countersigns had been exchanged with a profuseness
of caution which bore witness to the good guard and strict discipline
maintained by the governor, the prisoner and his escort were at length
introduced into the fortress, and admitted to the Major's presence.
The Major was just finishing his breakfast, when a Cardinal's messenger
was announced to him: he buttoned his uniform, put on his sword and
hat, and ordered the messenger to be shown in.
François Bouillot entered, followed by the Count, bowed, and presented
the order of which he was the bearer.
The governor took it, and read it through; then he turned to the Count,
who was standing motionless a few paces in the rear, made him a slight
bow, and addressed him in a dry voice, and with a rough accent.
"Your servant, sir," he said to him: "are you the Count de Barmont,
whose name is written on this paper?"
"Yes, sir," the Count answered, bowing in his turn.
"I am sorry, sir, truly sorry," the Major resumed; "but I have strict
orders with reference to you, and a soldier only knows his duty; still,
believe me, sir, hum, hum, that I shall try to reconcile my natural
humanity with the rigour that is recommended to me, hum, hum, I know
how gentlemen ought to behave to each other, sir; be assured of that."
And the governor, doubtless satisfied at the speech he had just
uttered, smiled, and drew himself gracefully up.
The Count bowed, but made no answer.
"You shall be conducted to your apartment at once, sir," the Major went
on; "hum, hum! I wish it was handsomer, but I did not expect you; hum,
hum, and you know how things are--hum, hum, we will manage to lodge
you more comfortably hereafter; la Berloque," he added, turning to a
soldier standing near the door, "conduct this gentleman, hum, hum, to
room No. 8, in the second turret; hum, hum, I believe it is the most
habitable one; your servant, sir, your servant, hum, hum!"
And after having thus unceremoniously dismissed the Count, the Major
went into another room.
M. de Barmont, accompanied by Bouillot and the guards, who had brought
him, followed the soldier.
The latter led them through several passages, and up various stairs,
and then stopped before a door, garnished with formidable bolts.
"It is here," he said.
The Count then turned to Bouillot, and affectionately offered him his
hand.
"Farewell, my old friend," he said to him in a gentle but firm voice,
while a vague smile played round his lips.
"Farewell, till we meet again," Bouillot said, with a stress on the
words. Then he took leave of him, and withdrew, with his eyes full of
tears.
The door closed with a mournful sound on the prisoner.
"Oh!" the old servant muttered, as he pensively went down the turret
stairs, "Woe to those who venture to oppose the Count, if ever he
leaves his prison again! And he shall do so, I swear it, even if I must
risk my life in securing his escape."