When the officer of dragoons had uttered those last words there
remained no longer any hope of escape in Bevill's mind. It was
impossible to doubt that he was the person for whom this small body of
troops was searching, or to suppose that there was in Liége any other
Englishman who, as the officer had said with delicate sarcasm, was
honouring his country by assuming a French name.
At first he knew not what was best to do, though, had he been alone,
his perplexity might easily have been resolved, since there would have
been one of two things open to him, namely, on the one hand, an
attempt to escape by flight through the narrow streets which
surrounded them all at this time--an attempt to dash suddenly away on
the fleet-footed La Rose, in the hope that she would bear him more
swiftly through those cramped streets than the heavy troop-horses of
the dragoons could follow, or ride through, side by side. On the other
hand, an effort to cut his way through these soldiers, though they
were seven against him, might by supreme good fortune be successful.
But, now, these ideas could by no possibility be acted on. He was
there in company with Sylvia and the Comtesse as their cavalier and
escort; while, although it was his safety and not theirs which was in
peril, his place was by their side to the last. Consequently, there
remained one thing alone to do: to state that he was the Englishman of
whom these men were in search, while adding that he was no spy, but,
instead, one who had made his way from England to Liége with the sole
object of assisting a countrywoman to leave a city surrounded by the
eternal enemies of the English.
Before, however, Bevill could follow this determination, at which he
arrived suddenly, since from the time the officer of dragoons had
uttered his last words until now not two moments had elapsed, he saw
the face of Madame de Valorme at the window of the travelling
carriage, and, an instant later, heard her address the officer.
"Monsieur," she said, "ere we reach the gate may I beseech the favour
of speaking to the gentleman of our party in private? I have some few
words to say to him in connection with our journey when we shall be
outside the city. I am confident that monsieur will not refuse so
simple a request."
"Madame may rest well assured of that," the officer replied, as now he
sat his horse bareheaded before the Comtesse. "Madame shall not be
incommoded by listeners to anything she may have to say to her
friend." After which he ordered three of his men to advance twenty
paces in front of the carriage and halt there, and the other three to
retire twenty paces behind it; while he himself rode forward and took
up his position in front of the foremost men.
The Comtesse and Sylvia, with Bevill at the carriage window, were,
therefore, as free to discourse without being overheard as though the
soldiers had not been in the neighbourhood.
"Ah!" the former said now, speaking of course in a low tone, as at the
same time Sylvia thrust forth her hand and clasped Bevill's silently,
while one glance at her sweet face was enough to show him how agitated
she was, the look in her eyes telling him of that agitation as clearly
as the tremor of her gloved hand could do. "Ah! what is to be done?
Have we failed so soon in our undertaking? Have we brought you to your
destruction?"
"Nay, never, never!" Bevill whispered back. "If I have met my
fate"--while, as he spoke, he heard a moan, which was in truth a gasp,
from Sylvia's lips, and felt her hand tighten convulsively on his--"I
have brought it on myself; I can meet it boldly. I set myself to do
this thing, looking for a reward, though never dreaming how fair a
reward might at last be mine," he added, with a glance beyond the
Comtesse to where Sylvia was. "If I have lost shall I not pay the
stake, shall I not look ill-fortune bravely in the face?"
"How has this disaster come about?" Sylvia asked, speaking for the
first time. "What precaution has been omitted? Or is it----?"
"Treachery!" the Comtesse said. "Ay! that way the disaster has come.
Say, is it not so?"
"I fear, indeed, it is," Bevill replied. "Listen. Someone, either
Francbois or another, was in the garden of the Weiss Haus last night
behind the arbour, and overheard our plans. I have been denounced, our
plans have been revealed, by the eavesdropper."
"Maledictions on him!" the Comtesse whispered through her white teeth,
while now her eyes were worthy rivals in splendour of Sylvia's own as
they sparkled in the light cast by a lamp suspended across the narrow
street. "May vengeance confound him, whoe'er he is; and if 'tis
Francbois, let him beware! I hold him in my hand. If--if--you
are--are----"
"Cease in mercy's sake!" Sylvia exclaimed. "Ah, say it not. It
cannot--cannot--be."
"If you are betrayed by him, you shall be dearly avenged," the
Comtesse continued. "Yet, see, that officer gives some order to the
men by his side. Quick--what will you do? What?"
"Proclaim myself an Englishman, yet no spy. Speak truthfully, and
acknowledge that I came here to save my countrywoman----"
"Madame," the officer exclaimed now as, after turning his horse, he
rode back to the carriage, "the clocks are striking the last quarter.
If madame and her friends are not at the gate in ten minutes there
will be little hope of their passing through it to-night. Even
provided," he added below his breath, "that the papers are in order."
For this well-bred young dragoon had a full certainty that he had
found the quarry which he, as well as two or three other small parties
of soldiers, had been sent out that night to waylay if possible. Yet
he had caught a glimpse of Sylvia in the depths of the carriage and
more than a glimpse of the aristocratic though sad features of the
Comtesse, and he regretted that it had fallen to his lot to light on
those who were sought for. As for Bevill, he recognised that he was
one of his own class--a gentleman and, by his appearance, perhaps a
soldier; but he believed him to be what he had been described as
being, a spy, a thing accursed in every land, and for him the young
officer felt little sympathy.
"It must be so," Madame de Valorme said now. "Monsieur," speaking as
calmly to Bevill as she was able to do, "pray bid Joseph to proceed."
A moment later the group had again set forth, three of the troopers
riding ahead and three behind the carriage, only now the officer rode
very close behind Bevill.
It took but little longer after this to reach the gate set in the
walls, which at this time were very high and strong, the gate-house
itself looking like a small fortress built into a still greater
fortification. Inside it, three or four mousquetaires were standing as
sentries as the carriage approached, while, since all recognised the
young officer in front, no challenge was given, but, instead, a
salute.
Then the latter, speaking to one of the mousquetaires, said:
"Inform the officer of the guard that Captain d'Aubenay has arrived in
company with a party who desire to pass out."
Ere, however, this could be done, the officer himself had come forth
from the guard room, and as he did so the Comtesse uttered an
exclamation, while muttering beneath her breath:
"It is De Guise. Again! Ah, that man is fatal to all of us!"
In the manner of the young Duc de Guise there was, however, nothing to
suggest any disaster, since, courteous as he had been at the western
gate when the Comtesse entered with Bevill, so he was now as she and
Bevill endeavoured to leave by the eastern one.
"We meet again, madame," he said; "and, this time, when madame would
depart. The formality is nothing. I merely require to see the papers
of herself and friends. Yet I have seen it before," he went on, as now
he took the _laissez-passers_ of the Comtesse and Sylvia from the
former's hand. "Ah, yes, yes," he muttered, though as he did so he
glanced at Madame de Valorme and, past her, at Sylvia. "Madame la
Comtesse de Valorme and her _dame de compagnie_. _Si, si_. And
monsieur?" he continued, looking up now at Bevill, while all noticed
that he had not used one of the accustomed phrases, "_Passez,
madame_," or "_C'est tout en règle_," nor had he as yet returned the
papers.
"Ah, yes!" the young Duke said now, as he looked at the paper Bevill
handed down to him. "Monsieur de Belleville. I remember very well. Of
the embassy in London. Yes," still looking up. Then he said, "I regret
to do so, but I must ask monsieur to descend from his horse."
"Descend!"
"Unfortunately it must be so. We have received orders not to permit
monsieur to pass the gate for the moment. Doubtless for the moment
only. It is very regrettable----"
"And," asked the Comtesse, "has monsieur le Duc also received orders
not to permit me and my _dame de compagnie_ to pass out?"
"_Je suis désolé_, but, alas!----"
"Is it so?"
"It is so, madame."
"Are we to be detained here? And for how long?"
"Ah, Madame la Comtesse! For how long! But for a moment. Monsieur de
Violaine, the Governor, makes the night rounds regularly, reaching
here at eleven as the clocks strike, or very little later. Madame may
rely on seeing him in a few minutes. If he decides that it shall be so
the gate will be opened to let madame and mademoiselle pass out."
"And as for me, sir?" Bevill asked.
"Monsieur, I cannot say. Our orders were simply to detain you if you
presented yourself at the gate."
Then, again addressing the Comtesse, the young Duke said:
"Will not madame and mademoiselle give themselves the trouble to
descend from the coach? The guardroom is at their disposal: while,"
looking at Bevill, "monsieur is quite free to accompany his friends
inside."
After which the Comtesse and Sylvia left the great carriage, and
Bevill, after assisting them to do so, in which attention he was
joined by the Duke and another officer of mousquetaires, accompanied
them to the guardroom.
Hardly, however, had they set foot in the place than the clatter of
several horses' hoofs was heard outside; the voice of a sergeant was
also heard giving the order to salute, and, a moment later, the
Governor, M. de Violaine, entered the room. As he did so the eyes of
those three were turned on him whom they well knew was, for the time
being at least, the arbiter of their destiny; while Madame de Valorme
seemed to become even more pale than she usually appeared. For, as she
had said once, this man was well known to her, and, like her, belonged
to the South of France; while, in other days, he had aspired to win
her hand, though this no one in Liége but herself and De Violaine
knew.
The group was now one at which any onlooker, not knowing all that
agitated the hearts and minds of those present, might have gazed in
interested wonderment.
[Illustration: "De Violaine muttered beneath his breath, 'It is
she--Radegonde!'"--_p_. 747.]
De Violaine, tall and handsomely accoutred, had stopped short as he
entered the guardroom, and, his eyes fixed on the Comtesse, had
muttered beneath his breath, "It is she--Radegonde!"
By Bevill's side, to which she had drawn close as they entered through
the clamped door, was Sylvia, gazing at him, silent for some moments,
yet whispering next.
"You thought to save me--would have saved me. If on this earth there
exist any means by which I can do by you as you would have done by me,
they shall be used. You said last night that you would never fail me.
Now I exchange the pledge. By God's will never will I fail you."
"Sylvia!" Bevill murmured, and then was silent from agitation at her
words. But a moment later he said, speaking so low that none but she
could hear, "Sylvia, I am in God's hand, not knowing what His decree
may be; yet--yet--if this is not the end, if to-night we do not make
our last farewell----"
"No, no!" she moaned, turning her face away so that the others should
not see her fast falling tears. "Not that! Never! Ah, it cannot be!"
"I pray it may not be so; but, Sylvia, if happier days shall ever
dawn, if some day I may stand face to face with you again; if I should
then dare to tell you all that is in my heart? Ah!" he exclaimed, as
now he felt her hand touch his beneath the long, dark riding-cloak she
wore. "Ah! am I answered?"
"Yes," she whispered, "answered as none shall ever be again," and
turned her face away--from him this time, so that not even he should
see it.
Meanwhile, whatever emotion De Violaine and the Comtesse may have
experienced in meeting under such strange circumstances, circumstances
so different from those of other days, when he who now commanded
besought pity, and she who was now almost a captive could not
vouchsafe mercy to her then captive, they had at least obtained
control over themselves.
Quietly, with the easy calm of that old French _noblesse_ which, above
all things, permitted no emotion to be apparent, the Governor had
advanced towards Madame de Valorme and, in a few well-chosen words,
had informed her that matters which had come to his knowledge
prevented him from allowing her to use her right of quitting the city
at present, or of leaving Liége until she had answered some questions
satisfactorily.
"What matters? What questions, monsieur?" the Comtesse asked.
"Firstly," M. de Violaine said gravely, "the reasons for which you are
desirous of travelling at this moment. It is an unhappy time for
ladies to select for setting out upon a journey. They might," he
added, with significance, "come into contact with the English or some
other of our enemies; they are all around."
For a moment the Comtesse looked at the Governor; then, seeing that
the others in the room were not close, she said:
"Have you, a De Violaine of our unhappy province, forgotten how the
eyes of all there are turned towards England? Even though I should
'come into contact' with the English would that be harmful to me, or
those of whom I am one?"
"I have not forgotten that I am a soldier, a servant, of France," the
other answered. "As one who has sworn a soldier's duty to his King I
must, for the time, forget all else. Madame la Comtesse, I ask of you
to return to the house from which you set out and remain there. You
have been denounced to me as one who is desirous, for a purpose of
which I know as well as you, of obtaining an audience of Lord
Marlborough."
"Denounced! Naturally, I do not desire to be informed of the name of
my denouncer. I know it--and I pity him."
De Violaine looked at her for a moment; then, turning towards Bevill,
he said:
"Monsieur, the name on your passport is not your name. You are, I am
informed, an Englishman and a spy."
"I am an Englishman, monsieur. I am no spy."
"That you will have to prove, as well as your object in being here in
any position except that of a spy. For the present you will be
detained at the citadel. The gate," he said, addressing the Duc de
Guise, "will be opened no more to-night."