THE FIGHT ON THE STAIRS.
The certainty, which this sound gave me, that I was in the right
house, and that it held also the villain to whom I owed all my
misfortunes--for who but Fresnoy could have furnished the broken coin
which had deceived mademoiselle?--had a singularly inspiriting effect
upon me. I felt every muscle in my body grow on the instant hard as
steel, my eyes more keen, my ears sharper--all my senses more apt and
vigorous. I stole off like a cat from the balustrade, over which I had
been looking, and without a second's delay began the search for
mademoiselle's room; reflecting that though the garrison now amounted
to four, I had no need to despair. If I could release the prisoners
without noise--which would be easy were the key in the lock--we might
hope to pass through the hall by a _tour de force_ of one kind or
another. And a church-clock at this moment striking Five, and
reminding me that we had only half an hour in which to do all and
reach the horses, I was the more inclined to risk something.
The light which I had seen from below hung in a flat-bottomed lantern
just beyond the head of the stairs, and outside the entrance to one of
two passages which appeared to lead to the back part of the house.
Suspecting that M. de Bruhl's business had lain with mademoiselle, I
guessed that the light had been placed for his convenience. With this
clue and the position of the window to guide me, I fixed on a door on
the right of this passage, and scarcely four paces from the head of
the stairs. Before I made any sign, however, I knelt down and
ascertained that there was a light in the room, and also that the key
was not in the lock.
So far satisfied, I scratched on the door with my fingernails, at
first softly, then with greater force, and presently I heard someone
in the room rise. I felt sure that the person, whoever it was, had
taken the alarm and was listening, and putting my lips to the keyhole
I whispered mademoiselle's name.
A footstep crossed the room sharply, and I heard muttering just within
the door. I thought I detected two voices. But I was impatient, and,
getting no answer, whispered in the same manner as before,
'Mademoiselle de la Vire, are you there?'
Still no answer. The muttering, too, had stopped, and all was
still--in the room, and in the silent house. I tried again. 'It is I,
Gaston de Marsac,' I said. 'Do you hear? I am come to release you.' I
spoke as loudly as I dared, but most of the sound seemed to come back
on me and wander in suspicious murmurings down the staircase.
This time, however, an exclamation of surprise rewarded me, and a
voice, which I recognised at once as mademoiselle's, answered softly:
'What is it? Who is there?'
'Gaston de Marsac,' I answered. 'Do you need my help?'
The very brevity of her reply; the joyful sob which accompanied it,
and which I detected even through the door: the wild cry of
thankfulness--almost an oath--of her companion--all these assured me
at once that I was welcome--welcome as I had never been before--and,
so assuring me, braced me to the height of any occasion which might
befall.
'Can you open the door?' I muttered. All the time I was on my knees,
my attention divided between the inside of the room and the stray
sounds which now and then came up to me from the hall below. 'Have you
the key?'
'No; we are locked in,' mademoiselle answered.
I expected this. 'If the door is bolted inside,' I whispered,
'unfasten it, if you please.'
They answered that it was not, so bidding them stand back a little
from it, I rose and set my shoulder against it. I hoped to be able to
burst it in with only one crash, which by itself, a single sound,
might not alarm the men downstairs. But my weight made no impression
upon the lock, and the opposite wall being too far distant to allow me
to get any purchase for my feet, I presently desisted. The closeness
of the door to the jambs warned me that an attempt to prise it open
would be equally futile; and for a moment I stood gazing in perplexity
at the solid planks, which bid fair to baffle me to the end.
The position was, indeed, one of great difficulty, nor can I now think
of any way out of it better or other than that which I adopted.
Against the wall near the head of the stairs I had noticed, as I came
up, a stout wooden stool. I stole out and fetched this, and setting it
against the opposite wall, endeavoured in this way to get sufficient
purchase for my feet. The lock still held; but, as I threw my whole
weight on the door, the panel against which I leaned gave way and
broke inwards with a loud, crashing sound, which echoed through the
empty house, and might almost have been heard in the street outside.
It reached the ears, at any rate, of the men sitting below, and I
heard them troop noisily out and stand in the hall, now talking
loudly, and now listening. A minute of breathless suspense
followed--it seemed a long minute; and then, to my relief, they
tramped back again, and I was free to return to my task. Another
thrust, directed a little lower, would, I hoped, do the business; but
to make this the more certain I knelt down and secured the stool
firmly against the wall. As I rose after settling it, something
else, without sound or warning, rose also, taking me completely by
surprise--a man's head above the top stair, which, as it happened,
faced me. His eyes met mine, and I knew I was discovered.
He turned and bundled downstairs again with a scared face, going so
quickly that I could not have caught him if I would, or had had the
wit to try. Of silence there was no longer need. In a few seconds the
alarm would be raised. I had small time for thought. Laying myself
bodily against the door, I heaved and pressed with all my strength;
but whether I was careless in my haste, or the cause was other, the
lock did not give. Instead the stool slipped, and I fell with a crash
on the floor at the very moment the alarm reached the men below.
I remember that the crash of my unlucky fall seemed to release all the
prisoned noises of the house. A faint scream within the room was but a
prelude, lost the next moment in the roar of dismay, the clatter of
weapons, and volley of oaths and cries and curses which, rolling up
from below, echoed hollowly about me, as the startled knaves rushed to
their weapons, and charged across the flags and up the staircase. I
had space for one desperate effort. Picking myself up, I seized the
stool by two of its legs and dashed it twice against the door, driving
in the panel I had before splintered. But that was all. The lock held,
and I had no time for a third blow. The men were already halfway up
the stairs. In a breath almost they would be upon me. I flung down the
useless stool and snatched up my sword, which lay unsheathed beside
me. So far the matter had gone against us, but it was time for a
change of weapons now, and the end was not yet. I sprang to the head
of the stairs and stood there, my arm by my side and my point resting
on the floor, in such an attitude of preparedness as I could compass
at the moment.
For I had not been in the house all this time, as may well be
supposed, without deciding what I would do in case of surprise, and
exactly where I could best stand on the defensive. The flat bottom of
the lamp which hung outside the passage threw a deep shadow on the
spot immediately below it, while the light fell brightly on the steps
beyond. Standing in the shadow I could reach the edge of the stairs
with my point, and swing the blade freely, without fear of the
balustrade; and here I posted myself with a certain grim satisfaction
as Fresnoy, with his three comrades behind him, came bounding up the
last flight.
They were four to one, but I laughed to see how, not abruptly, but
shamefacedly and by degrees, they came to a stand halfway up the
flight, and looked at me, measuring the steps and the advantage which
the light shining in their eyes gave me. Fresnoy's ugly face was
rendered uglier by a great strip of plaister which marked the place
where the hilt of my sword had struck him in our last encounter at
Chize; and this and the hatred he bore to me gave a peculiar
malevolence to his look. The deaf man, Matthew, whose savage stolidity
had more than once excited my anger on our journey, came next to him.
the two strangers whom I had seen in the hall bringing up the rear. Of
the four, these last seemed the most anxious to come to blows, and had
Fresnoy not barred the way with his hand we should have crossed swords
without parley.
'Halt, will you!' he cried, with an oath, thrusting one of them back.
And then to me he said, 'So, so, my friend! It is you, is it?'
I looked at him in silence, with a scorn which knew no bounds, and did
not so much as honour him by raising my sword, though I watched him
heedfully.
'What are you doing here?' he continued, with an attempt at bluster.
Still I would not answer him, or move, but stood looking down at him.
After a moment of this, he grew restive, his temper being churlish and
impatient at the best. Besides, I think he retained just so much of a
gentleman's feelings as enabled him to understand my contempt and
smart under it. He moved a step upward, his brow dark with passion.
'You beggarly son of a scarecrow!' he broke out on a sudden, adding a
string of foul imprecations, 'will you speak, or are you going to wait
to be spitted where you stand? If we once begin, my bantam, we shall
not stop until we have done your business! If you have anything to
say, say it, and----' But I omit the rest of his speech, which was
foul beyond the ordinary.
Still I did not move or speak, but looked at him unwavering, though it
pained me to think the women heard. He made a last attempt. 'Come, old
friend,' he said, swallowing his anger again, or pretending to do so,
and speaking with a vile _bonhomie_ which I knew to be treacherous,
'if we come to blows we shall give you no quarter. But one chance you
shall have, for the sake of old days when we followed Conde. Go! Take
the chance, and go. We will let you pass, and that broken door shall
be the worst of it. That is more,' he added with a curse, 'than I
would do for any other man in your place, M. de Marsac.'
A sudden movement and a low exclamation in the room behind me showed
that his words were heard there; and these sounds being followed
immediately by a noise as of riving wood, mingled with the quick
breathing of someone hard at work, I judged that the women were
striving with the door--enlarging the opening it might be. I dared not
look round, however, to see what progress they made, nor did I answer
Fresnoy, save by the same silent contempt, but stood watching the men
before me with the eye of a fencer about to engage. And I know nothing
more keen, more vigilant, more steadfast than that.
It was well I did, for without signal or warning the group wavered a
moment, as though retreating, and the next instant precipitated itself
upon me. Fortunately, only two could engage me at once, and Fresnoy, I
noticed, was not of the two who dashed forward up the steps. One of
the strangers forced himself to the front, and, taking the lead,
pressed me briskly, Matthew seconding him in appearance, while really
watching for an opportunity of running in and stabbing me at close
quarters, a man[oe]uvre I was not slow to detect.
That first bout lasted half a minute only. A fierce exultant joy ran
through me as the steel rang and grated, and I found that I had not
mistaken the strength of wrist or position. The men were mine. They
hampered one another on the stairs, and fought in fetters, being
unable to advance or retreat, to lunge with freedom, or give back
without fear. I apprehended greater danger from Matthew than from my
actual opponent, and presently, watching my opportunity, disarmed the
latter by a strong parade, and sweeping Matthew's sword aside by the
same movement, slashed him across the forehead; then, drawing back a
step, gave my first opponent the point. He fell in a heap on the
floor, as good as dead, and Matthew, dropping his sword, staggered
backwards and downwards into Fresnoy's arms.
'Bonne Foi! France et Bonne Foi!' It seemed to me that I had not
spoken, that I had plied steel in grimmest silence; and yet the cry
still rang and echoed in the roof as I lowered my point, and stood
looking grimly down at them. Fresnoy's face was disfigured with rage
and chagrin. They were now but two to one, for Matthew, though his
wound was slight, was disabled by the blood which ran down into his
eyes and blinded him. 'France et Bonne Foi!'
'Bonne Foi and good sword!' cried a voice behind me. And looking
swiftly round, I saw mademoiselle's face thrust through the hole in
the door. Her eyes sparkled with a fierce light, her lips were red
beyond the ordinary, and her hair, loosened and thrown into disorder
by her exertions, fell in thick masses about her white cheeks, and
gave her the aspect of a war-witch, such as they tell of in my country
of Brittany. 'Good sword!' she cried again, and clapped her hands.
'But better board, mademoiselle!' I answered gaily. Like most of the
men of my province, I am commonly melancholic, but I have the habit of
growing witty at such times as these. 'Now, M. Fresnoy,' I continued,'
I am waiting your convenience. Must I put on my cloak to keep myself
warm?'
He answered by a curse, and stood looking at me irresolutely. 'If you
will come down,' he said.
'Send your man away and I will come,' I answered briskly. 'There is
space on the landing, and a moderate light. But I must be quick.
Mademoiselle and I are due elsewhere, and we are late already.'
Still he hesitated. Still he looked at the man lying at his feet--who
had stretched himself out and passed, quietly enough, a minute
before--and stood dubious, the most pitiable picture of cowardice and
malice--he being ordinarily a stout man--I ever saw. I called him
poltroon and white-feather, and was considering whether I had not
better go down to him, seeing that our time must be up, and Simon
would be quitting his post, when a cry behind me caused me to turn,
and I saw that mademoiselle was no longer looking through the opening
in the door.
Alarmed on her behalf, as I reflected that there might be other
doors to the room, and the men have other accomplices in the house, I
sprang to the door to see, but had barely time to send a single glance
round the interior--which showed me only that the room was still
occupied--before Fresnoy, taking advantage of my movement and of my
back being turned, dashed up the stairs, with his comrade at his
heels, and succeeded in penning me into the narrow passage where I
stood.
I had scarcely time, indeed, to turn and put myself on guard before he
thrust at me. Nor was that all. The superiority in position no longer
lay with me. I found myself fighting between walls close to the
opening in the door, through which the light fell athwart my eyes,
baffling and perplexing me. Fresnoy was not slow to see the aid this
gave him, and pressed me hard and desperately; so that we played for a
full minute at close quarters, thrusting and parrying, neither of us
having room to use the edge, or time to utter word or prayer.
At this game we were so evenly matched that for a time the end was
hard to tell. Presently, however, there came a change. My opponent's
habit of wild living suited ill with a prolonged bout, and as his
strength and breath failed and he began to give ground I discerned I
had only to wear him out to have him at my mercy. He felt this
himself, and even by that light I saw the sweat spring in great drops
to his forehead, saw the terror grow in his eyes. Already I was
counting him a dead man and the victory mine, when something flashed
behind his blade, and his comrade's poniard, whizzing past his
shoulder, struck me fairly on the chin, staggering me and hurling me
back dizzy and half-stunned, uncertain what had happened to me.
Sped an inch lower it would have done its work and finished mine. Even
as it was, my hand going up as I reeled back gave Fresnoy an opening,
of which he was not slow to avail himself. He sprang forward, lunging
at me furiously, and would have run me through there and then, and
ended the matter, had not his foot, as he advanced, caught in the
stool, which still lay against the wall. He stumbled, his point missed
my hip by a hair's breadth, and he himself fell all his length on the
floor, his rapier breaking off short at the hilt.
His one remaining backer stayed to cast a look at him, and that was
all. The man fled, and I chased him as far as the head of the stairs;
where I left him, assured by the speed and agility he displayed in
clearing flight after flight that I had nothing to fear from him.
Fresnoy lay, apparently stunned, and completely at my mercy. I stood
an instant looking down at him, in two minds whether I should not run
him through. But the memory of old days, when he had played his part
in more honourable fashion and shown a coarse good-fellowship in the
field, held my hand; and flinging a curse at him, I turned in anxious
haste to the door, the centre of all this bloodshed and commotion. The
light still shone through the breach in the panel, but for some
minutes--since Fresnoy's rush up the stairs, indeed--I had heard no
sound from this quarter. Now, looking in with apprehensions which grew
with the continuing silence, I learned the reason. The room was empty!
Such a disappointment in the moment of triumph was hard to bear. I saw
myself, after all done and won, on the point of being again outwitted,
distanced, it might be fooled. In frantic haste and excitement I
snatched up the stool beside me, and, dashing it twice against the
lock, forced it at last to yield. The door swung open, and I rushed
into the room, which, abandoned by those who had so lately occupied
it, presented nothing to detain me. I cast a single glance round, saw
that it was squalid, low-roofed, unfurnished, a mere prison; then
swiftly crossing the floor, I made for a door at the farther end,
which my eye had marked from the first. A candle stood flaring and
guttering on a stool, and as I passed I took it up.
Somewhat to my surprise the door yielded to my touch. In trembling
haste--for what might not befall the women while I fumbled with doors
or wandered in passages?--I flung it wide, and passing through it,
found myself at the head of a narrow, mean staircase, leading,
doubtless, to the servants' offices. At this, and seeing no hindrance
before me, I took heart of grace, reflecting that mademoiselle might
have escaped from the house this way. Though it would now be too late
to quit the city, I might still overtake her, and all end well.
Accordingly I hurried down the stairs, shading my candle as I went
from a cold draught of air which met me, and grew stronger as I
descended; until reaching the bottom at last, I came abruptly upon an
open door, and an old, wrinkled, shrivelled woman.
The hag screamed at sight of me, and crouched down on the floor; and
doubtless, with my drawn sword, and the blood dripping from my chin
and staining all the front of my doublet, I looked tierce and uncanny
enough. But I felt it was no time for sensibility--I was panting to be
away--and I demanded of her sternly where they were. She seemed to
have lost her voice--through fear, perhaps--and for answer only stared
at me stupidly; but on my handling my weapon with some readiness she
so far recovered her senses as to utter two loud screams, one after
the other, and point to the door beside her. I doubted her; and yet I
thought in her terror she must be telling the truth, the more as I saw
no other door. In any case I must risk it, so, setting the candle down
on the step beside her, I passed out.
For a moment the darkness was so intense that I felt my way with my
sword before me, in absolute ignorance where I was or on what my foot
might next rest. I was at the mercy of anyone who chanced to be lying
in wait for me; and I shivered as the cold damp wind struck my cheek
and stirred my hair. But by-and-by, when I had taken two or three
steps, my eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, and I made out the naked
boughs of trees between myself and the sky, and guessed that I was in
a garden. My left hand, touching a shrub, confirmed me in this belief,
and in another moment I distinguished something like the outline of a
path stretching away before me. Following it rapidly--as rapidly as I
dared--I came to a corner, as it seemed to me, turned it blindly, and
stopped short, peering into a curtain of solid blackness which barred
my path, and overhead mingled confusedly with the dark shapes of
trees. But this, too, after a brief hesitation, I made out to be a
wall. Advancing to it with outstretched hands, I felt the woodwork of
a door, and, groping about, lit presently on a loop of cord. I pulled
at this, the door yielded, and I went out.
I found myself in a narrow, dark lane, and looking up and down
discovered, what I might have guessed before, that it was the Ruelle
d'Arcy. But mademoiselle? Fanchette? Simon? Where were they? No one
was to be seen. Tormented by doubts, I lifted up my voice and called
on them in turn; first on mademoiselle, then on Simon Fleix. In vain;
I got no answer. High up above me I saw, as I stood back a little,
lights moving in the house I had left; and the suspicion that, after
all, the enemy had foiled me grew upon me. Somehow they had decoyed
mademoiselle to another part of the house, and then the old woman had
misled me!
I turned fiercely to the door, which I had left ajar, resolved to
re-enter by the way I had come, and have an explanation whether or no.
To my surprise--for I had not moved six paces from the door nor heard
the slightest sound--I found it not only closed but bolted--bolted
both at top and bottom, as I discovered on trying it.
I fell on that to kicking it furiously, desperately; partly in a
tempest of rage and chagrin, partly in the hope that I might frighten
the old woman, if it was she who had closed it, into opening it again.
In vain, of course; and presently I saw this and desisted, and, still
in a whirl of haste and excitement, set off running towards the place
where I had left Simon Fleix and the horses. It was fully six o'clock
as I judged; but some faint hope that I might find him there with
mademoiselle and her woman still lingered in my mind. I reached the
end of the lane, I ran to the very foot of the ramparts, I looked
right and left. In vain. The place was dark, silent, deserted.
I called 'Simon! Simon! Simon Fleix!' but my only answer was the
soughing of the wind in the eaves, and the slow tones of the
convent-bell striking Six.