“Now I know that you are truly honourable,” she answered, “and you shall
not break your promise for me. No, no, you shall not; you shall not
stir. Tell me that you will not send word to Monsieur Doltaire--tell
me!”
When, after some struggle, I had consented, she said, “But I may act. I
am not bound to secrecy. I have given no word or bond. I will go to the
Governor with my love, and I do not fear the end. They will put me in a
convent, and I shall see you no more, but I shall have saved you.”
In vain I begged her not to do so; her purpose was strong, and I could
only get her promise that she would not act till midnight. This was
hardly achieved when Gabord entered quickly, saying, “The Seigneur
Duvarney! On with your coat, wig, and cap! Quick, mademoiselle!”
Swiftly the disguise was put on, and I clasped her to my breast with a
joyful agony, while Gabord hastily put out the candles and torch,
and drew Alixe behind the dungeon door. Then standing himself in the
doorway, he loudly commended me to sleep sound and be ready for travel
in the morning. Taking the hint, I threw myself upon my couch, and
composed myself. An instant afterwards the Seigneur appeared with a
soldier, and Gabord met him cheerfully, looked at the order from the
Governor, and motioned the Seigneur in and the soldier away. As Duvarney
stepped inside, Gabord followed, holding up a torch. I rose to meet my
visitor, and as I took his hand I saw Gabord catch Alixe by the sleeve
and hurry her out with a whispered word, swinging the door behind her
as she passed. Then he stuck the torch in the wall, went out, shut and
bolted the dungeon door, and left us two alone.
I was glad that Alixe’s safety had been assured, and my greeting of her
father was cordial. But he was more reserved than I had ever known him.
The duel with his son, which had sent the youth to France and left him
with a wound which would trouble him for many a day, weighed heavily
against me. Again, I think that he guessed my love for Alixe, and
resented it with all his might. What Frenchman would care to have his
daughter lose her heart to one accused of a wretched crime, condemned to
death, an enemy of his country, and a Protestant? I was sure that should
he guess at the exact relations between us, Alixe would be sent behind
the tall doors of a convent, where I should knock in vain.
“You must not think, Moray,” said he, “that I have been indifferent to
your fate, but you can not guess how strong the feeling is against you,
how obdurate is the Governor, who, if he should appear lax in dealing
with you, would give a weapon into Bigot’s hands which might ruin him in
France one day. I have but this moment come from the Governor, and there
seems no way to move him.”
I saw that he was troubled greatly, and I felt his helplessness. He went
on: “There is but one man who could bend the Governor, but he, alas! is
no friend of yours. And what way there is to move him I know not; he has
no wish, I fancy, but that you shall go to your fate.”
“You mean Monsieur Doltaire?” said I quietly.
“Doltaire,” he answered. “I have tried to find him, for he is the secret
agent of La Pompadour, and if I had one plausible reason to weigh with
him-- But I have none, unless you can give it. There are vague hints of
things between you and him, and I have come to ask if you can put any
fact, any argument, in my hands that would aid me with him. I would go
far to serve you.”
“Think not, I pray you,” returned I, “that there is any debt unsatisfied
between us.”
He waved his hand in a melancholy way. “Indeed, I wish to serve you for
the sake of past friendship between us, not only for that debt’s sake.”
“In spite of my quarrel with your son?” asked I.
“In spite of that, indeed,” he said slowly, “though a great wedge was
driven between us there.”
“I am truly sorry for it,” said I, with some pride. “The blame was in no
sense mine. I was struck across the face; I humbled myself, remembering
you, but he would have me out yes or no.”
“Upon a wager!” he urged, somewhat coldly.
“With the Intendant, monsieur,” I replied, “not with your son.”
“I can not understand the matter,” was his gloomy answer.
“I beg you not to try,” I rejoined; “it is too late for explanations,
and I have nothing to tell you of myself and Monsieur Doltaire. Only,
whatever comes, remember I have begged nothing of you, have desired
nothing but justice--that only. I shall make no further move; the axe
shall fall if it must. I have nothing now to do but set my house in
order, and live the hours between this and sunrise with what quiet I
may. I am ready for either freedom or death. Life is not so incomparable
a thing that I can not give it up without pother.”
He looked at me a moment steadily. “You and I are standing far off from
each other,” he remarked. “I will say one last thing to you, though you
seem to wish me gone and your own grave closing in. I was asked by the
Governor to tell you that if you would put him in the way of knowing the
affairs of your provinces from the letters you have received, together
with estimate of forces and plans of your forts, as you have known them,
he will spare you. I only tell you this because you close all other ways
to me.”
“I carry,” said I, with a sharp burst of anger, “the scars of wounds an
insolent youth gave me. I wish now that I had killed the son of the man
who dares bring me such a message.”
For a moment I had forgotten Alixe, everything, in the wildness of my
anger. I choked with rage; I could have struck him.
“I mean nothing against you,” he urged, with great ruefulness. “I
suggest nothing. I bring the Governor’s message, that is all. And let me
say,” he added, “that I have not thought you a spy, nor ever shall think
so.”
I was trembling with anger still, and I was glad that at the moment
Gabord opened the door, and stood waiting.
“You will not part with me in peace, then?” asked the Seigneur slowly.
“I will remember the gentleman who gave a captive hospitality,” I
answered. “I am too near death to let a late injury outweigh an old
friendship. I am ashamed, but not only for myself. Let us part in
peace--ay, let us part in peace,” I added with feeling, for the thought
of Alixe came rushing over me, and this was her father!
“Good-by, Moray,” he responded gravely. “You are a soldier, and brave;
if the worst comes, I know how you will meet it. Let us waive all bitter
thoughts between us. Good-by.”
We shook hands then, without a word, and in a moment the dungeon door
closed behind him, and I was alone; and for a moment my heart was heavy
beyond telling, and a terrible darkness settled on my spirit. I sat on
my couch and buried my head in my hands.