Through all that had taken place in the guardroom, M. de Violaine had
conducted himself as a gallant gentleman, and neither in his tone,
words, nor bearing had there been any of that hectoring or browbeating
towards one who, if he was what he had been denounced as being, might
well have been subjected to such treatment.
For a spy, found in a city subject to those who were already sore
pressed by the very country to which that supposed spy belonged, could
scarcely look for gentle treatment at the hands of one who was in
command of the principal fortress of that city; while, polished as the
French _noblesse_ and gentry might be, soldiering was conducted with a
considerable amount of roughness at this time, and it was the habit of
all in command in the chief European armies--which were the armies of
England and France alone--to treat suspected prisoners with scant
consideration.
Yet Bevill could not complain of any roughness on the part of the man
whose captive he now was. De Violaine, except that his manner was cold
and austere towards him, had behaved as well as one gentleman brought
into contact with another, and that other the subject of a hostile
country, could have been expected to behave. For all of which there
was a reason, over and above the fact that the prisoner was
undoubtedly the friend of the woman whom De Violaine had once loved
tenderly and hoped to win, as well as apparently something more than a
friend of the beautiful companion of the Comtesse--that stately,
handsome girl from whose eyes the tears had fallen fast in compassion
for the man who was now his prisoner.
This reason was that he had been face to face with the denouncer of
Bevill, and, later, with Bevill himself--the denounced--and the first
had impressed him unfavourably, while the second, Englishman though he
was, had produced a vastly different effect on him.
That morning, early, Francbois had obtained an audience with the
Governor, and, after many crafty hints and a considerable amount of
falsehood, had told sufficient to cause De Violaine to issue his
orders for preventing Bevill and his companions from leaving Liége.
But when Francbois, after stating that not only was the principal
accused an Englishman, but also a spy of the enemy, as well as
being a Protestant--whom he termed generally _heretiques_ and
_reformes_--but also one who had committed other crimes against France
which he would unfold, the soldier bade him be silent.
"You state," De Violaine said, "that you can prove he is an
Englishman; that he travels under a false name while bearing a
passport made out in that false name, a French one. That is sufficient
for his arrest."
"Sufficient, monsieur, for his arrest! His arrest! But surely not
sufficient--surely not--for his condemnation--his punishment?"
"That will come later--at the court-martial, since it is by that he
can alone be judged. Then you can tell all else you know."
"A court-martial! Is that necessary? Is he not a spy and are not spies
condemned without many formalities? Are not Protestants the enemies of
France?"
"No," De Violaine said, regarding coldly the man before him. "I am
one. Am I an enemy of France? So, too, are half the inhabitants of
this place, yet they submit."
"Monsieur le Gouverneur is a Protestant!" Francbois exclaimed, taken
aback at learning a fact of which he was in utter ignorance. "A
Protestant!" he said again.
"One of many who love France well and serve her well. Also, you speak
of la Comtesse de Valorme, and state that you know what she is in
Liége for. Knowing so much, you know too that she is of the reformed
faith. Do you not suppose, also, that this Mademoiselle Thorne, this
English girl of whom you speak, is the same?"
"There is nought against Mademoiselle Thorne."
"There will be if she attempts to leave Liége without my particular
permission. Now go, monsieur. You have told me enough to cause them
all to be prevented in their intention. Later, you can tell the
officers who will judge this Englishman all that you know. Only," with
a strange look in his eyes as De Violaine regarded Francbois, "be
careful not to leave Liége yourself: you will be wanted."
"I--I----" Francbois stammered, utterly taken aback, not only at the
knowledge he had now obtained that the Governor was a Protestant, but
also at learning that he himself would be required at whatever form of
trial there might be. "I hoped that I should not be called upon to
appear personally; I hoped that my information would be sufficient."
"You will have to be present. Where is your abode?"
"At--at----" But he paused. If he gave the house of Van Ryck as his
place of abode he stigmatised himself as one who betrayed a woman
dwelling under the same roof as he; while if, on the other hand, he
told this man sitting before him and regarding him so coldly and
contemptuously, that he was an inhabitant of the Jesuit College, he
proclaimed himself as one whom this Protestant soldier would regard
with abhorrence and all other Frenchmen with mistrust.
"Answer me," the Governor said, seeing that the other hesitated.
"Answer, I say. Where do you dwell?"
"I--I--am for the moment at the Jesuit College, Monsieur le
Gouverneur," Francbois cried, seeing a look appear upon De Violaine's
face which he could not comprehend, so strange, so inscrutable was it.
"I am of the religion of France, as most Frenchmen are. There is no
crime in consorting with Jesuits."
But still De Violaine looked at Francbois, who now stood before him
with his features white as a corpse within its shroud; while, as the
former regarded him, he felt that he was trembling.
"No," De Violaine said at last, speaking very calmly; "there is no
harm in consorting with Jesuits, unless it be to do harm. Yet----"
But now he paused and added nothing further, though still looking
Francbois through and through with calm eyes.
Inwardly, however, his reflections were profound.
"The Jesuits' College!" he was saying to himself. "A portion of that
confraternity which secretly is opposed to the claims of France to the
Spanish Throne since, once possessed of Spain, France would attempt to
suppress the Inquisition. The Jesuits' College in this place, from
which De Boufflers has hinted more than once that news of our projects
and plans is disseminated to the enemy. Ah! who is the greater spy on
us--that Protestant Englishman of whom this man speaks, or he himself
who harbours in that college under the sheltering wing of the order.
_Carogne!_ if I trap one 'twere best I held the other in my hand as
well," and once more the Governor's eyes fell on the man before him.
"Monsieur," Francbois said now, as, still white and still trembling,
he again met De Violaine's glance, "Monsieur, is my presence needed
further? I--I--have affairs of consequence in hand."
"Doubtless! Yet I have changed my mind. When do you say this
Englishman masquerading as a Frenchman is about to quit the city with
those ladies?"
"To-night, Monsieur le Gouverneur--before the hour of eleven strikes."
"So be it. You have told me much, but not sufficient. To-night, before
eleven, they will all be stopped on their intended journey. The
Englishman will be brought here"--"here" being the citadel in which
this conversation was taking place--"and your charges against him must
be made at once. It may be that all you state is capable of
explanation."
"Here, monsieur? I would have desired not to be present, not to be
forced to accuse this spy face to face. A silent, an unknown, an
absent witness is sometimes more useful than a present one. Yet, since
monsieur desires it, it shall be so. I will be here. Monsieur may rely
on me."
"Reliance is not necessary," De Violaine replied, while knowing well
that, if once this man was allowed to go, the inside of the citadel
would never see him again. "You will remain here till the gate is shut
and that man in our hands. He shall be brought here at once; you shall
stand face to face with him and tell your tale. If what you state, and
that which you say you can state further against him, cannot meet
inquiry, he will be in grievous peril."
"But, Monsieur le----"
"No more. You will be well cared for, and, providing you speak truly,
no harm can come to you." After which De Violaine struck upon a bell
by his hand, and, upon the appearance of two of the men on guard
outside, bade them remove the gentleman before them to a room in the
north wing of the citadel and be careful to treat him with all care
and attend well to his wants. But before Francbois was removed from
his presence, and ere he reached the door, the Governor bade the men
retire outside the room again until he summoned them. Then, when once
more alone with Francbois, he said:
"There is some reason for your denunciation of this Englishman. What
is that reason? Is it to obtain money, reward?"
"Monsieur?" Francbois exclaimed, making a sorry attempt to draw
himself up to his full height and to look the Governor fairly in the
face. "I am a gentleman--a Frenchman and--a patriot." But,
impassively, De Violaine--though it may be that his shoulders were
shrugged almost imperceptibly--continued:
"Are these ladies with whom this Englishman will endeavour to leave
the city known to you?"
"Yes," Francbois replied, speaking truthfully, since he could not
doubt that ere long--by eleven o'clock this night, if no sooner--any
falsehood he might utter would be unmasked. "Yes. La Comtesse de
Valorme is, in a manner, of my kin."
"Of your kin?" while beneath his lips the other drew a quick breath.
"Of your kin? La Comtesse de Valorme is kin to you! But there are many
De Valormes in--in the South. Is she by chance the wife of Gabriel,
Comte de Valorme, who was sent to the galleys for his religion?"
"She is, monsieur, the widow of Gabriel. He died in the galley _Le
Requin_."
"Ah! so he is dead." And again De Violaine drew a subdued breath. Then
he went on:
"And the other lady? She is, you say, English. A countrywoman of this
man whom you denounce. Who is she? What is she? What does she here in
Liége?"
That the French Governor should not know this was natural, since,
between the military investors of Liége and those residing in the city
there could be no intercourse whatever, or only the very slightest
between the commanders of the former and the magistracy of the latter;
and, consequently, all that Francbois now told him was unknown
previously. But of Sylvia De Violaine asked no further questions, and,
going to the door again, called in the guards and bade them escort
Francbois to the room he had ordained.
After which, and when left alone, he sat down in his chair again and
gave himself up to his reflections and to many tender, yet sad,
memories.
"So Gabriel is dead," he said to himself. "Poor Gabriel. Dead in one
of those accursed galleys. Dead! He to be dead thus! And Radegonde is
here--here in Liége. Radegonde, the one woman who ever rose as a star
above my life, the one woman who might have been the flower of that
life. Yet it was never to be. Never! Never! When Gabriel came all hope
was gone for me. Gone! Nay, it never existed. What was it she told me
on that last night? That, had her heart been hers it should have been
mine--only Gabriel had gained possession of it and would hold
possession of it for ever. And now--now--Gabriel is dead, and it falls
to me to interrupt her, to thwart her--her, to whom once I would have
given my life had she demanded it."
De Violaine brushed his hand swiftly across his eyes, thrust his chair
back, and rose from it to pace the room, while muttering to himself,
"That is done with, put away for ever. Duty alone remains--the duty,
the allegiance I have sworn. A soldier's loyalty! No matter what he
ordains," and his thoughts flew to far-off Versailles, "no matter how
much she persuades him to evil, he is the King and I his soldier. Duty
to him--and France! Yet, oh! that he were different."
"As for this fellow," the Governor continued, contemptuously now, "who
and what is he? Has _he_ dared to raise his eyes to Radegonde, to
dream that he shall ever occupy the place Gabriel held; and does he
hope by some low cunning, some base intrigue, to bring her to his
hand? Emile Francbois! Emile Francbois! Ha! Have a care! You may have
thwarted her, you may have brought this Englishman to the halter,
but--there is rope enough in this fortress to hang more than one. A
spy deserves no worse fate than a traitor."
He sent for the officer of the guard now, and gave his orders for
despatching a handful of cavalry under the command of one officer to
one part of the town and a second to another part, and gave
instructions that from dusk each should be on the watch for a
carriage, containing two ladies and accompanied by a man on horseback,
that would be making its way towards the only gate open after sunset.
He also gave instructions that if this party was met with it should be
conducted to that gate and there detained until he arrived at the
conclusion of his rounds.
And so the trap that Francbois had baited was set. No travellers such
as he had described would be able to pass out of the city this night.
While, so strong was the sense of duty, of loyalty to France,
engrafted in the heart of De Violaine--badly as France was treating
that class of her subjects to which he belonged--that, even had Madame
de Valorme been his sister or his wife, he would not have permitted
her to continue her journey--a journey on which she went, as he could
very well imagine, with a view to conspiring with France's most
powerful enemy, England, as represented in the presence of
Marlborough.
Yet it was hard to do!--hard to thwart the woman whom he had loved and
lost, the woman he had once dreamed of winning for his wife; and hard,
too, to prevent that woman from endeavouring to obtain help for those
of his and her own faith now suffering for that faith.
But if he drew his existence from those of that faith, so, too, he
drew it from France, and, as one of her soldiers, he had sworn to
protect her.
Not even his love for a woman whom he had lost could make him false to
that vow.