WHAT DENYS KNEW
Pascal was all laughter and sallies as he led the way up to their
apartments, but Gerard was in no such mood. He was very serious and
full of misgivings at the course things were taking. There were
more than enough complications in the position already without the
additional embarrassment of the bestowal of a prisoner.
It was not without some sense of relief, therefore, that he saw Pascal
start as he entered the room, and heard him exclaim in a tone of
dismay--
“The sly devil has wriggled out, Gerard. By my shroud, I had not deemed
it possible. I put him in there and shot the bolt upon him”; and he
pointed to an empty closet.
“Never mind. Perhaps it is best so,” answered Gerard with a smile. “An
honest man can’t always beat a rogue at his own trade, it seems.”
“Aye, laugh away; but he’ll not laugh if ever I set eyes on him again,
the sneaking mongrel.”
“For not waiting for your return, you mean? He knows his business, at
any rate.”
“Aye, that’s certain; but the point is how much he knows of yours?”
retorted Pascal. “I’ll forgive him for knowing his own, but he shall
pay the price for meddling in mine. Were I not a fool I had mounted
guard over him and waited for you to come here.”
“Are you sure he was spying upon us?”
“Am I sure that we are on a queer quest here? Who can have turned him
on to such a scent?”
“I should suspect de Proballe, were it not that he knows all my
supposed unsavoury history as the real de Cobalt.”
“He has no suspicion that you are not?”
“Not that I can think.”
“Then it must be the girl who questioned me and said I was no
servant--Mdlle. de Boisdegarde,” suggested Pascal, with a shrewd nod of
the head. “I mind me now. Are you supposed to have done some ugly thing
at Cambrai? She questioned me on the point.”
“Yes, a something which de Proballe spells murder, and for which I am
to be pardoned.”
“A thousand devils! I gave her my word of honour you had never been
there, except as we passed through the place on our way here.”
“How can she have got wind of it?” and Gerard pursed his lips
thoughtfully. “Wait, wait. I see. De Proballe told me this good fellow
Denys had his suspicions. He has told her. Phew!” he whistled. “The
plot thickens.”
“It’s thick enough already to be a very devil’s pie of complication,”
laughed Pascal. “I suppose, as usual you will listen to no counsel of
prudence.”
“Prudence, from Pascal de la Tour?” and Gerard laughed in his turn.
“Nay, for myself I care nothing. Let come what may it’s all welcome, so
long as there be but some fun in it. But your life is valuable. Would
it not be wise to give up this de Cobalt business, leave Morvaix, and
return as yourself with the troops from Cambrai?”
Gerard thought a moment, and then with another smile answered--
“You have seen for yourself how a certain matter stands. Were you in my
place, would you act on your own counsel?”
“Not I, on my soul. If there are two ways to an end, I would choose
that which has the more spice in it, and devil take the danger. But you
and I stand on different footings, Gerard, and I would not so counsel
you.”
“Counsel or no counsel, I stay, Pascal. We will have the troops up when
the need calls for them. But I will follow the spirit of your advice.
I’ll write to my cousin d’Alembert, at Cambrai, bidding him be prepared
to march hither at an hour’s notice; and to-morrow early you must find
means to despatch a messenger to him. Then seek out Dubois, and tell
him to keep in close touch with the hundred we brought into the city
as monks, so as to assemble them at any moment. Do you know how the
hundred we played at presenting to this Governor have been bestowed?”
“That was a shrewd step,” answered Pascal, with a laugh. “They are
enrolled among the castle guards, in accordance with the suggestion
Dubois handed on from his Eminence--yourself, Gerard. Pray Heaven, they
do but keep discreet tongues. They are tough fighters, and every man
would gladly give his life for you; but like soldiers, they love their
liquor.”
“To-morrow, or at any rate the day following, should see all in
readiness for us to act. Now let me write my letter--a task I loathe.”
While Gerard wrote, Pascal left the room, wishful in case of
emergencies to learn his way better about the great house, and he came
back just as the seal was set to the paper.
“Gerard, that sharp-eyed beauty, Mdlle. Lucette, wishes a word with
you. I met her on the watch in the corridor as I returned.”
Gerard went out to her.
“May I put a question to you, M. de Cobalt?” was how she met him.
“Certainly, mademoiselle. Can I help you? You look sorely troubled.”
“Gabrielle trusts you so implicitly, monsieur, and ’twas she bade me
ask you. Will you tell me why you were so anxious that Denys St. Jean
should be watched so jealously?”
“I gave my reasons, mademoiselle. When fever and delirium follow loss
of blood from a sword-thrust there must always be risk to the patient.”
“There is no delirium, monsieur. When Denys spoke of you, he was
perfectly calm and clear. At first, that is, and until his excitement
grew. But what he said of you was said collectedly.”
“But the fever is on him, and therefore he should not be left,” said
Gerard calmly.
She made a quick gesture of impatience.
“Can you not answer me frankly, monsieur? Oh, pardon me, but I am in
such distress. You have some other reasons. I saw the look that passed
between you and M. de Proballe.”
“Would you ask me to interpret for you all M. de Proballe’s looks, and
to explain all you may have thought in your excitement?” and he smiled.
“Denys is so hot against you, and makes such charges.”
“Should I warn you to set a watch over him if I myself were minded to
do him any harm for that? In all honest truth, I care not what he may
either think or say.”
“But he declares----”
“By your leave, I would rather not hear what he says except from his
own lips. I shall know how to answer him.”
She lifted her hands despairingly and was turning away, when a further
question occurred to her. “On your honour, monsieur, you have no other
reason for this watching than what you have said?”
“That is a question which I would rather that you did not put to me.”
“But we trust you so,” she cried reproachfully.
He smiled again. “Then do as I have suggested.”
“Oh, what a mystery is all this;” she exclaimed, and left him.
“One word more, mademoiselle,” he said, following her a couple of
paces. “We are soldiers and accustomed to long watches and little
sleep. One of us will be on the watch out here in the corridor for the
night.”
She made no reply; and Gerard, going back to Pascal, told him what he
proposed: that they two should watch in turns through the night.
“I hope that rat will come stealing back,” said Pascal. “If I don’t
pinch his throat for him, may my fingers forget the feel of a man’s
wizen;” and he agreed readily to take the first spell.
The rat did come back, more than once; but so cunningly and softly now,
so warily and so keen of scent for the watchers, that neither Gerard
nor Pascal knew of his coming; and in the morning both agreed that
they had kept their vigil to no purpose. Could they have heard the
report which Dauban gave to his master, however, they would have known
otherwise.
De Proballe was ill at ease, indeed. He did not like the attitude which
Gerard had adopted. He had looked for a pliant tool, afraid of his
life; and he found instead, a man who showed independence and firmness,
who had a will of his own, and who both said and did things that made
against his plans.
For his purpose it was not by any means enough that Gerard should
succeed in making a good impression on Gabrielle. That was right, so
far as it went; but Gerard seemed to be captivated by her beauty; and
that was altogether wrong. If there was to be love between them, the
whole scheme might be jeopardised; and with it would go his own more
daring and ambitious plans.
Were Gerard to marry Gabrielle and then turn against him, no one could
foresee the consequences. The blundering interference in regard to
Denys was unaccountable; and the manner in which he had flinched
from the necessary step of dealing with one whose knowledge was so
dangerous, was profoundly disturbing. It was enough to rouse the wrath
of any one; and when Dauban brought word that a watch was actually
being kept which rendered it impossible even to get to the door of the
room, his perplexity equalled his ill-temper.
He had his own standards of judging men; and he could only come now to
the conclusion that Gerard was in some way playing for his own hand.
This thought kept him in a ferment of speculation the whole night.
Seeing Gerard in the gardens early, he went down to him, resolved to
have an explanation.
“I want a word with you, Gerard,” he said, bluntly. “We must understand
one another, or this thing goes no farther.”
Gerard had gone out early in the hope of seeing Gabrielle, and was
anything but pleased to have de Proballe’s company instead; nor did he
at all relish the peremptory tone in which de Proballe spoke. Thus his
answer was sharp and curt.
“What is there we do not understand, monsieur?”
“In the first place, you must understand that as I am the author of
this marriage scheme, you must work for it as I direct, or it must come
to an end.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, it is so; and you had better know it. I first thought of it; I
found the proofs of her parents’ wishes to lay before Gabrielle; and
what I made I can as easily unmake again. I have but to speak a word
and the bubble will burst.”
“Then it was a lie, M. de Proballe?” asked Gerard coldly and incisively.
“A lie, as you know perfectly well; one in which you have already
taken part, and which you have come here in person to continue to
the end. It is useless for us to play like children at pretences. In
your letters to me you have expressed your willingness to put yourself
entirely in my hands, to do precisely what I tell you. Now, will you do
it? If you will not, say so.”
“My memory for such matters is short, monsieur, and in regard to all
such communications I am as if I had never penned them”; replied
Gerard, after a moment’s pause.
“Then it is as I thought. You have some scheme of your own to further.
What is it?” De Proballe was furious at the answer.
“If it be my own, as you suggest, should I be likely to disclose it to
you?”
“You do not deny it?”
“I do not admit your right to question me.”
“Do you intend to marry Gabrielle?”
“Without a doubt, if she will deign to marry me.”
“Then why did you set a watch outside that babbler’s door all through
the night?”
“How do you know that I did?”
“No matter. I know it, and that is enough.”
“I was right, then, in thinking you would choose the night for your
work. I set the watch, monsieur, because I had no mind to be a party to
your murderous scheme.”
“You will repent this attitude.”
“Very likely. Most of us spend our lives in either committing one
blunder or repenting others.”
“You tempt me to deem my act a blunder indeed in bringing you to
Morvaix.”
“That may be part of the better understanding, the reference to which
opened our conversation. Need we say any more?”
“Before the day is done you may understand better,” cried de Proballe,
furiously.
“Shall we leave it, then, for the coming hours to decide?” retorted
Gerard, lightly and without more he turned his back and walked away.
De Proballe returned to the house more uneasy and more wrathful than
ever. He seemed to see his schemes crumbling to pieces before his eyes,
and to be unable to avert the ruin. He had built so much on Gerard’s
coming that he was loath now to carry his fears to the Governor, and
thus stop the marriage altogether; and yet it was plain that if this
was to be Gerard’s attitude when he had married Gabrielle and was
master of Malincourt, the very marriage itself might but make matters
worse than they were at present.
He could not see what private scheme Gerard could have in reserve; and
came at length to think that the success with Gabrielle had so turned
Gerard’s head that he believed himself master of the situation. From
this delusion it would not be difficult to rouse him, however. A word
or two from the Duke that his life was in danger would soon cure this
swashbuckler mood; and such a word he could instigate at any moment. He
could therefore safely let matters run their course for the present.
In this temper he awaited the hour fixed for Gerard’s interview
with the Governor; but early in the forenoon the latter arrived at
Malincourt; and de Proballe found him in a dangerous temper.
“We were to wait upon you at the Castle, Duke,” he said, suavely.
“Am I not welcome at Malincourt?”
“You can need no assurance from me, I trust, that your presence here is
an honour and a welcome condescension.”
“Umph!” and the Governor shrugged his shoulders. “Where is Mdlle. de
Malincourt?”
“I have not seen my niece this morning. I will have her sent for.”
“No, that is not my wish. Where is your villainous jackal, de Cobalt?
News has reached me that he made much impression upon your niece
yesterday. Is that so? Speak plainly.”
“He came as her betrothed, and he has done as we would have him do,
seeing the purpose in hand.”
“I have my doubts about this affair after all,” was the answer, with
a heavy frown. “It will not suit me that he win too far into her good
graces. The thing has cost me a sleepless night of thought, and I have
come now that I may see them together, myself unseen, and hear them
speak one to the other, that I may judge how matters go. You will
arrange this. I am consumed with a cursed gnawing plague of jealousy.”
“You will of course understand----”
“I will understand nothing but that you must do as I say.”
De Proballe spread out his hands and was about to expostulate again,
when the Duke cut him short, and said very sternly--
“Will you do as I say, M. le Baron, or must I find some other way?”
“It shall be as you please. The best plan I can conceive is that we
remain hidden here where we can watch any one on the terrace, and I
will send word to de Cobalt that the hour is close at hand when he is
to accompany me to the Castle, and ask him to wait me on the terrace.
Then I can send for Gabrielle, and get her there.”
“Give the instructions in my presence.”
“Monsieur le Duc!” exclaimed de Proballe, in a tone of indignation.
“Monsieur le Baron!” He imitated de Proballe’s tone, and then laughed
coarsely. “I can trust my own ears, and mean to have no warning
conveyed to either of them.”
De Proballe started and bit his lip. He had contemplated doing the
very thing the Duke insinuated, and was bitterly vexed his thought
should have been read. For a moment they faced each other, and then
de Proballe with a shrug of his shoulders turned to obey. But at that
instant the Duke caught sight of Gerard and Gabrielle strolling in the
gardens, and frowned.
“There is no need to summon any one. I see them. You will remain with
me, monsieur.”
Standing back well out of sight, the Duke watched the two lovers with
intent gaze, his expression changing gradually from eager scrutiny to
one of jealous anger, and the heavy frown deepened every moment, till
at last he burst out into angry speech.
“God of Heaven! it is even worse than the worst I feared. See how
they linger together over the flowers; how she smiles to him, and he
answers.”
“He does but play his part, Duke.”
“If that be play, then never saw I earnest. And she, how her face
lights as he speaks to her; her colour deepens as she droops her head
at his words. See how she lays her hand tenderly on his arm; and he,
how he stoops over her hand and raises it to his lips, and she--by the
God that made us all, she loves him. Look at the light in her eyes.”
“He is our man, my lord, and sows but for us to reap.”
“’Twill be a bitter crop for some of us, or I am no ruler in Morvaix.
’Twas not for this we sent for him. And you say they never met till
yesterday?”
“Till yesterday.”
The Duke turned from the window, and paced the room with quick angry
strides, his face black as night and his eyes blazing with hot jealous
rage. De Proballe watched him stealthily, wondering what this new
dangerous mood portended.
“They are coming to the terrace,” he said at length; and the two
watchers concealed themselves close by the open casement.
The lovers approached, all unsuspecting that keen vengeful eyes were
bent upon them from under the strained pent brows of a man half mad
with jealous frenzy. And a handsome picture they made as they came up
the broad steps laughing gaily in the sweet abandonment of new-found
all-trusting love.
Gabrielle held in one hand the kerchief with which she had at first
covered her head, and in the other was a posy of freshly plucked
flowers, from which she had chosen a red rose to give to Gerard. Her
face was radiant with smiles and her eyes glowed as she turned them
ever and again upon her handsome lover by her side. At the head of the
steps she stayed and leant in a graceful pose against the marble pillar
on which stood the statue of a fantastically carved faun.
“And must you really go now to the Castle?” she asked.
“M. de Proballe named this hour, Gabrielle.”
“I am loath for you to go, cousin; yet could wish you gone that I may
look for your return, and long for it.”
“You do not think I leave you willingly?”
A tender glance was the answer, and at the sight of it the angry man
within the room close by drew in his breath sharply as if in pain.
“I believe I shall count the minutes till you return,” she said. “Am I
not foolish? But your coming has changed my world.”
“If it be foolishness, then it is good to be foolish,” returned Gerard.
“You will be careful with the Duke, remembering what I have told you,
Gerard.”
“I have to think of you, Gabrielle, and the thought will inspire me to
caution.”
“I would I could be present. Not that I doubt you; maybe,” she smiled,
“it is only because I do not like to be parted from you.”
“The minutes will be no less leaden to me while I am away;” and again
they smiled each to the other with such a glance that the Duke could
endure no more.
“This must end,” he whispered fiercely. “I will bear no more;” and he
was moving impetuously when de Proballe stayed him and whispered in
reply--
“I beg you have patience, my lord. He is but adopting my suggestion and
wooing her that the marriage may take place the sooner.”
“Then he must find some other way. It is hell to me.”
“Stay; some one comes. By all the saints in heaven, it is Denys!”
He was walking with difficulty, and leaning on Lucette’s arm for
support.
“It is he who knows something of our plans, my lord, and should have
been silenced by your men yesterday. He must be stopped, or he will
poison her ears against him.”
But the Duke, catching eagerly at the words, laid a strong hand on de
Proballe’s arm and held him as he whispered in tense accents--
“Let him do it, and I will thank him. Stay, monsieur, I order you.”
In dire consternation de Proballe, now much agitated, fell back to his
place, and both were again silent.
“Denys, Denys, what madness is it that brings you from your sick bed
thus?” cried Gabrielle, in surprise and some alarm for him. “You are
risking your life.”
“It is no madness, mademoiselle, and my life would be cheaply spent in
such a case,” answered Denys, speaking with great labour and seeming
even to breathe with difficulty.
“I could not stay him, Gabrielle,” said Lucette, in response to
Gabrielle’s look of reproach.
“You would not come to me when I sent for you, mademoiselle,” said
Denys slowly, when he had found breath. “So I came to you.”
“I could not come then, and did but delay, good Denys. But what is this
matter that could not wait?”
“That man is the matter--Gerard de Cobalt. I know the truth of his
coming hither and his treachery, and not another hour was to be lost
before I told you.”
“Denys! How dare you speak thus? You presume upon my good will. It was
M. de Cobalt who saved your life yesterday.”
“Would God I had lost it rather than that it should be saved by him. As
Heaven is my witness, I speak but the truth when I say he is a villain;
and I can and will prove my words by his own testimony.”
A moment’s tense silence followed this fierce accusation; and in it the
Duke whispered under his breath--
“It grows interesting. I hope he will make good his words. He is an
honest sturdy fellow, and looks as earnest as he is sincere. A good
witness, and welcome.”