THE DUEL.
I have said already how all this weighed me down; with what misgivings
I looked along the table, from the pale, pinched features of the
lawyer to the smug grin of the grocer, or Buton's coarse face; with
what sinkings of heart I found myself on a sudden the equal of these
men, addressed now with rude abruptness, and now with servility; last,
but not least, with what despondency I listened to the wrangling which
followed, and which it needed all the exertions of the Captain to
control. Fortunately, the sitting did not last long. After half an
hour of debate and conversation, during which I did what I could to
aid the few who knew anything of business, the meeting broke up; and
while some went out on various missions, others remained to deal with
such affairs as arose. I was one of those appointed to stay, and I
drew Father Benoit into a corner, and, hiding for a moment the feeling
of despair which possessed me, I asked him if any further outbreaks
had occurred in the country round.
"No," he answered, secretly pressing my hand. "We have done so much
good, I think." Then, in a different tone, which showed how clearly he
read my mind, he continued, under his breath, "Ah! M. le Vicomte, let
us only keep the peace! Let us do what lies to our hands. Let us
protect the innocent, and then, no matter what happens. Alas, I
foresee more than I predicted. More than I dreamed of is in peril. Let
us only cling to----"
He stopped, and turned, startled by the noisy entrance of the Captain;
who came in so abruptly that those who remained at the table sprang to
their feet. M. Hugues' face was flushed, his eyes were gleaming with
anger. The lawyer, who stood nearest to the door, turned a shade
paler, and stammered out a question. But the Captain passed by him
with a glance of contempt, and came straight to me. "M. le Vicomte,"
he said out loud, blurting out his words in haste, "you are a
gentleman. You will understand me. I want your help."
I stared at him. "Willingly," I said. "But what is the matter?"
"I have been insulted!" he answered, his moustaches curling.
"How?"
"In the street! And by one of those puppies! But I will teach him
manners! I am a soldier, sir, and I----"
"But, stay, M. le Capitaine," I said, really taken aback. "I
understood that there was to be no fighting. And that you in
particular----"
"Tut! tut!"
"Would be caned before you would go out."
"_Sacre Nom!_" he cried, "what of that? Do you think that I am not a
gentleman because I have served in America instead of in France?"
"No," I said, scarcely able to restrain a smile. "But it is playing
into their hands. So you said yourself, a minute ago, and----"
"Will you help me, or will you not, sir?" he retorted angrily. And
then, as the lawyer tried to intervene, "Be silent, you!" he
continued, turning on him so violently that the scrivener jumped back
a pace. "What do you know of these things? You miserable pettifogger!
you----"
"Softly, softly, M. le Capitaine," I said, startled by this outbreak,
and by the prospect of further brawling which it disclosed. "M.
l'Avoue is doing merely his duty in remonstrating. He is in the right,
and----
"I have nothing to do with him! And for you--you will not assist me?"
"I did not say that."
"Then, if you will, I crave your services at once! At once," he said
more calmly; but he still kept his shoulder to the lawyer. "I have
appointed a meeting behind the Cathedral. If you will honour me, I
must ask you to do so immediately."
I saw that it was useless to say more; that he had made up his mind;
and for answer I took up my hat. In a moment we were moving towards
the door. The lawyer, the grocer, half a dozen cried out on us, and
would have stopped us. But Father Benoit remained silent, and I went
on down the stairs, and out of the house. Outside it was easy to see
that the quarrel and insult had had spectators; a gloomy crowd, not
compact, but made up of watching groups, filled all the sunny open
part of the square. The pavement, on the other hand, along which we
had to pass to go to the Cathedral, had for its only occupants a score
or more of gentlemen, who, wearing white cockades, walked up and down
in threes and fours. The crowd eyed them silently; they affected to
see nothing of the crowd. Instead, they talked and smiled carelessly,
and with half-opened eyes; swung their canes, and saluted one another,
and now and then stopped to exchange a word or a pinch of snuff. They
wore an air of insolence, ill-hidden, which the silent, almost cowed
looks of the multitude, as it watched them askance, seemed to justify.
We had to run the gauntlet of these; and my face burned with shame, as
we passed. Many of the men, whom I met now, I had met two days before
at Madame St. Alais', where they had seen me put on the white cockade;
they saw me now in the opposite camp, they knew nothing of my reasons,
and I read in their averted eyes and curling lips what they thought of
the change. Others--and they looked at me insolently, and scarcely
gave me room to pass--were strangers, wearing military swords, and the
cross of St. Louis.
Fortunately the passage was as short as it was painful. We passed
under the north wall of the Cathedral, and through a little door into
a garden, where lime trees tempered the glare of the sun, and the
town, with its crowd and noise, seemed to be in a moment left behind.
On the right rose the walls of the apse and the heavy eastern domes of
the Cathedral; in front rose the ramparts; on the left an old,
half-ruined tower of the fourteenth century lifted a frowning
ivy-covered head. In the shadow, at its foot, on a piece of smooth
sward, a group of four persons were standing waiting for us.
One was M. de St. Alais, one was Louis; the others were strangers. A
sudden thought filled me with horror. "Whom are you going to fight?" I
muttered.
"M. de St. Alais," the Captain answered, in the same tone. And then,
being within earshot of the others, I could say no more. They stepped
forward, and saluted us.
"M. le Vicomte?" Louis said. He was grave and stern. I scarcely knew
him.
I assented mechanically, and we stepped aside from the others. "This
is not a case that admits of intervention, I believe?" he said,
bowing.
"I suppose not," I answered huskily.
In truth, I could scarcely speak for horror. I was waking slowly to
the consciousness of the dilemma in which I had placed myself. Were
St. Alais to fall by the Captain's sword, what would his sister say to
me, what would she think of me, how would she ever touch my hand? And
yet could I wish ill to my own principal? Could I do so in honour,
even if something sturdy and practical, something of plain gallantry
in the man, whom I was here to second, had not already and insensibly
won my heart?
Yet one of the two must fall. The great clock above my head, slowly
telling out the hour of noon, beat the truth into my brain. For a
moment I grew dizzy; the sun dazzled me, the trees reeled before me,
the garden swam. The murmur of the crowd outside filled my ears. Then
out of the mist Louis' voice, unnaturally steady, gripped my
attention, and my brain grew clear again.
"Have you any objection to this spot?" he said. "The grass is dry, and
not slippery. They will fight in shadow, and the light is good."
"It will do," I muttered.
"Perhaps you will examine it? There is, I think, no trip or fault."
I affected to do so. "I find none," I said hoarsely.
"Then we had better place our men?"
"I think so."
I had no knowledge of the skill of either combatant, but, as I turned
to join Hugues, I was startled by the contrast which the two presented
as they stood a little apart, their upper clothes removed. The Captain
was the shorter by a head, and stiff and sturdy, with a clear eye and
keen visage. M. le Marquis, on the other hand, was tall and lithe, and
long in the arm, with a reach which threatened danger, and a smile
almost as deadly. I thought that if his skill and coolness were on a
par with his natural gifts, M. Hugues--But then again my head reeled.
What did I wish?
"We are ready," M. Louis said impatiently; and I noticed that he
glanced past me towards the gate of the garden. "Will you measure the
swords, M. le Vicomte?"
I complied, and was about to place my man, when M. le Capitaine
indicated by a sign that he wished to speak to me, and, disregarding
the frowns of the other side, I led him apart.
His face had lost the glow of passion which had animated it a few
minutes before, and was pale and stern. "This is a fool's trick," he
said curtly, and under his breath. "It will serve me right if that
puppy goes through me. You will do me a favour, M. le Vicomte?"
I muttered that I would do him any in my power.
"I borrowed a thousand francs to fit myself out for this service," he
continued, avoiding my eye, "from a man in Paris whose name you will
find in my valise at the inn. Should anything happen to me, I should
be glad if you will send him what is left. That is all."
"He shall be paid in full," I said. "I will see to it."
He wrung my hand, and went to his station; and Louis and I placed
ourselves on either side of the two, ready, with our swords drawn, to
interfere should need arise. The signal was given, the principals
saluted, and fell on guard, and in a moment the grinding and clicking
of the blades began, while the pigeons of the Cathedral flew in eddies
above us, and in the middle of the garden a little fountain tinkled
softly in the sunshine.
They had not made three passes before the great diversity of their
styles became apparent. While Hugues played vigorously with his body,
stooping, and moving, and stepping aside, but keeping his arm stiff,
and using his wrist much, M. le Marquis held his body erect and still,
but moved his arm, and, fencing with a school correctness, as if he
held a foil, disdained all artifices save those of the weapon. It was
clear that he was the better fencer, and that, of the two, the Captain
must tire first, since he was never still, and the wrist is more
quickly fatigued that the arm; but, in addition to this, I soon
perceived that the Marquis was not putting forth his full strength,
but, depending on his defence, was waiting to tire out his opponent.
My eyes grew hot, my throat dry, as I watched breathlessly, waiting
for the stroke that must finish all--waiting and flinching. And then,
on a sudden, something happened. The Captain seemed to slip, yet did
not slip, but in a moment, stooping almost prone, his left hand on the
ground, was under the other's guard. His point was at the Marquis's
breast, when the latter sprang back--sprang back, and just saved
himself. Before the Captain could recover his footing, Louis dashed
his sword aside.
"Foul play!" he cried passionately. "Foul play! A stroke _dessous!_ It
is not _en regle_."
The Captain stood breathing quickly, his point to the ground. "But why
not, Monsieur?" he said. Then he looked to me.
"I scarcely understand, M. de St. Alais," I said stiffly. "The
stroke----"
"Is not allowed."
"In the schools," I said. "But this is a duel."
"I have never seen it used in a duel," he said.
"No matter," I answered warmly. "To interfere on such provocation is
absurd."
"Monsieur!"
"Is absurd!" I repeated firmly. "After such treatment I have no
resource but to withdraw M. le Capitaine from the field."
"Perhaps you will take his place," some one behind me said with a
sneer.
I turned sharply. One of the two persons whom we had found with St.
Alais was the speaker. I saluted him. "The surgeon?" I said.
"No," he answered angrily. "I am M. du Marc, and very much at your
service."
"But not a second," I rejoined. "And, therefore, you have no right to
be standing where you are, nor to be here. I must request you to
withdraw."
"I have at least as much right as those," he answered, pointing to the
roof of the Cathedral, over the battlements of which a number of heads
could be seen peering down at us.
I stared.
"Our friends have at least as much right as yours," he continued,
taunting me.
"But they do not interfere," I answered firmly. "Nor shall you. I
request you to withdraw."
He still refused, and even tried to bluster; but this proved too much
for Louis' stomach; he intervened sharply, and at a word from him the
bully shrugged his shoulders and moved away. Then we four looked at
one another.
"We had better proceed," the Captain said bluntly. "If the stroke was
irregular, this gentleman was right to interfere. If not----"
"I am willing," M. de St. Alais said. And in a moment the two fell on
guard, and to it again; but more fiercely now, and with less caution,
the Captain more than once using a rough, sweeping parry, in greater
favour with practical fighters than in the fencing school. This,
though it left him exposed to a _riposte_, seemed to disconcert M. le
Marquis, who fenced, I thought, less skilfully than before, and more
than once seemed to be flurried by the Captain's attack. I began to
feel doubtful of the result, my heart began to beat more quickly, the
glitter of the blades as they slid up and down one another confused my
sight. I looked for one moment across at Louis--and in that moment the
end came. M. le Capitaine used again his sweeping parry, but this time
the circle was too wide; St. Alais' blade darted serpent-like under
his. The Captain staggered back. His sword dropped from his hand.
Before he could fall I caught him in my arms, but blood was gushing
already from a wound in the side of his neck. He just turned his
eyes to my face, and tried once to speak. I caught the words, "You
will----" and then blood choked his voice, and his eyes slowly closed.
He was dead, or as good as dead, before the surgeon could reach him,
before I could lay him on the grass.
I knelt a moment beside him perfectly stunned by the suddenness of the
catastrophe; watching in a kind of fascination the surgeon feeling
pulse and heart, and striving with his thumb to stop the bleeding. For
a moment or two my world was reduced to the sinking grey face, the
quivering eyelids before me, and I saw nothing, heeded nothing,
thought of nothing else. I could not believe that the valiant spirit
had fled already; that the stout man who had so quickly yet insensibly
won my liking was in this moment dead; dead and growing livid, while
the pigeons still circled overhead, and the sparrows chirped, and the
fountain tinkled in the sunshine.
I cried out in my agony. "Not dead?" I said. "Not dead so soon?"
"Yes, M. le Vicomte, it was bad luck," the surgeon answered, letting
the passive head fall on the stained grass. "With such a wound nothing
can be done."
He rose as he spoke; but I remained on my knees, wrapt and absorbed;
staring at the glazing eyes that a few minutes before had been full of
life and keenness. Then with a shudder I turned my look on myself. His
blood covered me; it was on my breast, my arm, my hands, soaking into
my coat. From it my thoughts turned to St. Alais, and at the moment,
as I looked instinctively round to see where he was, or if he had
gone, I started. The deep boom of a heavy bell, tolled once, shook the
air; while its solemn burden still hung mournfully on the ear, quick
footsteps ran towards me, and I heard a harsh cry at my elbow. "But,
_mon Dieu!_ This is murder! They are murdering us!"
I looked behind me. The speaker was Du Marc, the bully who had vainly
tried to provoke me. The two St. Alais and the surgeon were with him,
and all four came from the direction of the door by which we had
entered. They passed me with averted eyes, and hurried towards a
little postern which flanked the old tower, and opened on the
ramparts. As they went out of sight behind a buttress that intervened
the bell boomed out again above my head, its dull note full of menace.
Then I awoke and understood; understood that the noise which filled my
ears was not the burden of the bell carried on from one deep stroke to
another, but the roar of angry voices in the square, the babel of an
approaching crowd crying: "_A la lanterne! A la lanterne!_" From the
battlements of the Cathedral, from the louvres of the domes, from
every window of the great gloomy structure that frowned above me, men
were making signs, and pointing with their hands, and brandishing
their fists--at me, I thought at first, or at the body at my feet. But
then I heard footsteps again, and I turned and found the other four
behind me, close to me; the two St. Alais pale and stern, with bright
eyes, the bully pale, too, but with a look which shot furtively here
and there, and white lips.
"Curse them, they are at that door, too!" he cried shrilly. "We are
beset. We shall be murdered. By God, we shall be murdered, and by
these _canaille!_ By these--I call all here to witness that it was a
fair fight! I call you to witness, M. le Vicomte, that----"
"It will help us much," St. Alais said with a sneer, "if he does. If I
were once at home----"
"Ay, but how are we to get there?" Du Marc cried. He could not hide
his terror. "Do you understand," he continued querulously, addressing
me, "that we shall be murdered? Is there no other door? Speak, some
one. Speak!"
His fears appealed to me in vain. I would scarcely have stirred a
finger to save him. But the sight of the two St. Alais standing there
pale and irresolute, while that roar of voices grew each moment louder
and nearer, moved me. A moment, and the mob would break in; perhaps
finding us by Hugues' side, it might in its fury sacrifice all
indifferently. It might; and then I heard, to give point to the
thought, the crash of one of the doors of the garden as it gave
way; and I cried out almost involuntarily that there was another
door--another door, if it was open. I did not look to see if they
followed, but, leaving the dead, I took the lead, and ran across the
sward towards the wall of the Cathedral.
The crowd were already pouring into the garden, but a clump of shrubs
hid us from them as we fled; and we gained unseen a little door, a
low-browed postern in the wall of the apse, that led, I knew--for not
long before I had conducted an English visitor over the Cathedral--to
a sacristy connected with the crypt. My hope of finding the door open
was slight; if I had stayed to weigh the chances I should have thought
them desperate. But to my joy as I came up to it, closely followed by
the others, it opened of itself, and a priest, showing his tonsured
head in the aperture, beckoned to us to hasten. He had little need to
do so; in a moment we had obeyed, were by his side, and panting, heard
the bolts shoot home behind us. For the moment we were safe.
Then we breathed again. We stood in the twilight of a long narrow room
with walls and roof of stone, and three loopholes for windows. Du Marc
was the first to speak. "_Mon Dieu_, that was close," he said, wiping
his brow, which in the cold light wore an ugly pallor. "We are----"
"Not out of the wood yet," the surgeon answered gravely, "though we
have good grounds for thanking M. le Vicomte. They have discovered us!
Yes, they are coming!"
Probably the people on the roof had watched us enter and denounced our
place of refuge; for as he spoke, we heard a rush of feet, the door
shook under a storm of blows, and a score of grimy savage faces showed
at the slender arrow-slits, and glaring down, howled and spat curses
upon us. Luckily the door was of oak, studded and plated with iron,
fashioned in old, rough days for such an emergency, and we stood
comparatively safe. Yet it was terrible to hear the cries of the mob,
to feel them so close, to gauge their hatred, and know while they beat
on the stone as though they would tear the walls with their naked
hands, what it would be to fall into their power!
We looked at one another, and--but it may have been the dim light--I
saw no face that was not pale. Fortunately the pause was short. The
Cure who had admitted us, unlocked as quickly as he could an inner
door. "This way," he said--but the snarling of the beasts outside
almost drowned his voice--"if you will follow me, I will let you out
by the south entrance. But, be quick, gentlemen, be quick," he
continued, pushing us out before him, "or they may guess what we are
about, and be there before us."
It may be imagined that after that we lost no time. We followed him as
quickly as we could along a narrow subterranean passage, very dimly
lit, at the end of which a flight of six steps brought us into a
second passage. We almost ran along this, and though a locked door
delayed us a moment--which seemed a minute, and a long one--the key
was found and the door opened. We passed through it, and found
ourselves in a long narrow room, the counterpart of that we had first
entered. The cure opened the farther door of this; I looked out. The
alley outside, the same which led beside the Cathedral to the Chapter
House, was empty.
"We are in time," I said, with a sigh of relief; it was pleasant to
breathe the fresh air again. And I turned, still panting with the
haste we had made, to thank the good Cure who had saved us.
M. de St. Alais, who followed me, and had kept silence throughout,
thanked him also. Then M. le Marquis stood hesitating on the
threshold, while I looked to see him hurry away. At last he turned to
me. "M. de Saux," he said, speaking with less aplomb than was usual
with him--but we were all agitated--"I should thank you also. But
perhaps the situation in which we stand towards one another----"
"I think nothing of that," I answered harshly. "But that in which we
have just stood----"
"Ah," he rejoined, shrugging his shoulders, "if you take it that
way----"
"I do take it that way," I answered--the Captain's blood was not yet
dry on the man's sword, and he spoke to me! "I do take it that way.
And I warn you, M. le Marquis," I continued sternly, "that if you
pursue your plan further, a plan that has already cost one brave man
his life, it will recoil on yourselves, and that most terribly."
"At least I shall not ask you to shield me," he answered proudly. And
he walked carelessly away, sheathing his sword as he went. The passage
was still empty. There was no one to stop him.
Louis followed him; Du Marc and the surgeon had already disappeared. I
fancied that as Louis passed me he hung a moment on his heel; and that
he would have spoken to me, would have caught my eye, would have taken
my hand, had I given him an opening. But I saw before me Hugues' dead
face and sunken eyes, and I set my own face like a stone, and turned
away.