“I AM NOT GERARD DE COBALT”
Of all present Gabrielle was by far the most agitated. The Duke,
perplexed, suspicious, and bitterly hostile to the man who had stepped
between him and his passion, was chiefly concerned to find how best
to turn the thing to his rival’s hurt. De Proballe, angry at having
been tricked, was for the moment too occupied in enjoying his personal
importance in having thus unmasked the impostor, to think of much else.
But to Gabrielle the issue was all in all. If this were not Gerard her
cousin, the man to whom she had been betrothed, how strangely forward
and unmaidenly she must have appeared. She recalled with a sense of
something akin to shame how she had almost pressed herself upon him in
the first moment of his arrival; and at the recollection, her cheeks
flamed so that she hid them beneath her hands and involuntarily drew
away from his side.
It was but a little thing, that gesture of hers; but Gerard saw and
understood it, and on the moment it stayed the words of avowal even as
they were at his lips, and changed the whole course of his action. He
had come to Morvaix to ascertain the truth as to the misgovernment and,
if need arose, to depose and punish the powerful Governor; but his love
for Gabrielle was now so much to him and filled so much of his purpose,
that he set it first and before all else.
He had won her love by a trick, an imposture. He had been in great
measure forced into it by circumstances, indeed, and by his very zeal
in her cause. But it was none the less a trick; and he was too proud,
having won it so, to hold it by mere greatness of rank. He would not
avow that rank until he had justified himself in Gabrielle’s eyes.
And even as he thought of this and formed the resolve, another
consideration occurred to him. He could by this means still further
test the methods of rule in Morvaix. He had had ample evidence of the
Governor’s willingness to wrest the considerations of justice to his
own personal ends; but it would throw a fresh light upon matters to
note his conduct when he knew that the man he had first used and then
threatened was not the cowardly murderer the real Gerard de Cobalt was
said to be.
“Do you intend to trifle all day with me?” demanded the Governor, when
Gerard had remained silent some time.
“I am not trifling, but thinking,” answered Gerard. At his calm strong
tone Gabrielle took her hands from her face and with another eager,
almost imploring glance, made a half step toward him, and then checked
herself in deep embarrassment.
“You have need to think, I’ll warrant,” exclaimed de Proballe.
But it was to Gabrielle Gerard turned.
“You have no need to shrink from me, mademoiselle,” he said with a
smile, “although I can understand you. I fear I must plead guilty to
having deceived you. I am not the writer of that letter. I am not your
cousin, Gerard de Cobalt.”
“So you see that game is over,” sneered de Proballe. “What lie next,
pray? You will not find us so easy to be fooled now.”
“If I am not Gerard de Cobalt, monsieur,” cried Gerard, sternly, “you
will still find I am a man who does not take insults lightly. For your
past words I forgive you, because of your natural irritation at this
discovery. But for your future words and conduct I shall hold you
responsible--every word and every act.”
“You will of course explain your conduct, monsieur, and state as
frankly as you can who you are and your purpose in my city. See to it
that the explanation be as satisfactory as your present position is
equivocal.” The Governor’s tone was curt and peremptory.
“The explanation is due to Mademoiselle de Malincourt, and I promise
you it shall be frank enough in some respects to satisfy even you.
I had a sufficient object in coming to Morvaix--what that is for
the present I withhold--and to accomplish it I took a name not my
own. I borrowed it at hazard from a notorious dicer and wastrel of
Paris--Raouf de Cobalt.”
“But you called yourself Gerard de Cobalt,” said the Duke.
“In ignorance that he had a relative of that name--an even worse
scoundrel, it would seem, than himself--whom you and M. de Proballe
designed to use for your schemes.”
“Do you think to carry off this imposture with insolence?” demanded the
Duke angrily.
“It is not insolence. I have no cause to hide the truth, monsieur. I
had been in Morvaix but a few hours when I was a witness of the scene
in the market place, and we met for the first time, mademoiselle. I
inquired concerning you, and learning that you were the Gabrielle de
Malincourt whose praises were on all men’s lips, I haunted the gardens
of the maison in the hope of seeing you again. There we met, yesterday,
for the second time--and you may remember my passing confusion when you
questioned me as to the reasons for what seemed such strange conduct
in a man you believed to be your cousin and for whose coming you were
prepared.”
“You did not tell me all, monsieur,” said Gabrielle.
“You shall know why. I was on the point of doing so when M. de Proballe
interrupted us, and carrying me away, told me enough to disclose to me
the peril which threatened you.”
“Yes, yes, we know all about that,” interposed de Proballe hastily.
“Mademoiselle de Malincourt does not. You read the letter yesterday
of which your follower Denys had in some way possessed himself,
mademoiselle, and I need only say that that contained in essence the
story of this de Cobalt which M. de Proballe told me at length, adding
that my marriage with you was to be no more or less than a cover for
your ruin at the hands of the Duke de Rochelle.”
“It is a lie,” cried the Governor furiously.
“Then blame the liar, M. le Duc. There he stands,” and Gerard pointed
at de Proballe.
“It is a tissue of lies,” said de Proballe. “You know me too well,
Gabrielle, to believe this vile slander.”
“There you mistake. It is I, not Mademoiselle de Malincourt, who know
you. I know M. de Proballe’s life and reputation in Paris.”
“This shall go no further. Your name, monsieur?” demanded the Governor.
“Does not touch the truth or falsehood of what I say, and need not
therefore be disclosed yet. I shall choose my own time to disclose it.”
“You will tell it now, or suffer the consequences.”
“I do not understand. Do you threaten me?”
“By your own confession you have come sneaking here in an assumed name;
as a spy of some sort. We soldiers have a short shrift for spies.”
“Monsieur----” began Gabrielle, in a tone of entreaty, alarmed for
Gerard’s safety, and a prey to many mingled emotions.
“I have committed no offence, mademoiselle, save in having misled you
to believe I was a worse man than I am. For that I have to crave your
pardon, pleading only in excuse the reasons I have shown. For the rest,
I have done no wrong,” he said, meeting confidently the Governor’s
threatening looks.
“You are a spy, monsieur, and as a spy shall be treated.”
“It is no uncommon thing for strangers to travel without disclosing
their names. Is that a crime in Morvaix which is a common practice all
over France and Europe?”
“Do you say now you are naught but a traveller?”
“Far from it. I have a purpose in coming to your city.”
“Then you are a spy, I say.”
“I am no spy, monsieur. I am a soldier. A true son of France with none
but pure French blood in my veins; and a loyal subject of His Majesty
the King, of whom we are all subjects in common. I have fought under
the great Bourbon, the Suzerain of this city and the territory of
Morvaix. To hold me for a spy will argue ill of Morvaix and the rule
that prevails here.”
“You dare to threaten me, then?”
“Monsieur has doubtless his papers to support his statements and a safe
conduct from his powerful friends,” suggested de Proballe, with a sneer.
“Aye, of course, produce them,” declared the Governor. “They may
explain the suspicious manner of your coming.”
“I can make good my words at any time,” said Gerard, not relishing this
thrust. “The manner of my coming was my own choosing. But since I have
been here your lordship must have seen for yourself my acts have been
far from those of a spy.”
De Proballe stepped forward and whispered eagerly to the Governor.
“Is that so, indeed? I hear that even now you have been seen making
careful observations of our Castle and the fortifications. You can of
course explain so singular and apt a curiosity? Apt, I mean, as fitting
with the conduct of a spy.”
“Are the soldiers of France forbidden even to look at the
fortifications of Morvaix’s famous Castle?”
“Spies are so forbidden, monsieur, and when detected are dealt with as
you, being a soldier, will understand.”
“I repeat, I am no spy.”
“Then prove it so, by declaring who you are.”
“I am accustomed to have my word accepted, monsieur,” answered Gerard
proudly.
The Governor was about to answer when de Proballe laid a hand on his
arm and drew him to one side.
“Why not declare yourself, monsieur?” asked Gabrielle,
half-hesitatingly, as the others drew out of earshot. “You little know
the Duke if you think you can safely hold him at defiance thus.”
“I am not concerned for what he may think or do, mademoiselle. It is
you, and you only, whom I fear to have estranged. I deceived you. Can
you forgive me?”
“You should not have done it, monsieur,” she answered, dropping her
eyes. “You--you shamed me.”
“God forbid you should believe such a thought as that could have been
in my heart.”
“But I--I deemed you were my cousin. Oh, when I think of it, my face
flames with humiliation.”
“Then in all truth am I bitterly punished. But you must see how hardly
I was placed. When I heard the blunt confession of all that was
designed against you I knew not what to do. Hating myself for every act
and word of compelled deception, yet I could not speak without----But
of course, you must blame me.”
“You could have told _me_, monsieur, if you had trusted me;” and the
reproach in her eyes as she glanced up stung him so that he winced.
“And you read in me no more than mistrust?” he whispered.
“Monsieur!”
“And you think I have been untrue to you?”
“Monsieur!” This time with a little accent of pain, adding under her
breath, “I trusted you so completely.”
“And now?” His tone was as low as hers, and when she made no answer he
said, “First your words stabbed me, now it is your silence.”
She caught her breath and lifted and let fall her hand with a gesture
of perplexity: a pathetic little sign of her distress.
“But you, too, are silent--still,” she murmured, after a pause.
“And I was so sure of you.” The softly spoken words stung her so that
she winced at the implied reproach in them. The reproach was unmerited,
and while repudiating the injustice she was both wistful and yet
unwilling to let him see how his words hurt her.
“Why will you not speak and end the uncertainty?” she asked.
“For myself and for others I care nothing, as I say; but can _you_ find
no reason?”
“It is for me?” she cried quickly, with a swift glance and an
involuntary thrill of delight. She had not doubted him; but the
confirmation of her trust which seemed to come from the assurance that
it was still for her he was acting thus, brought inexpressible comfort.
If it was for her that he still ran the risks involved in maintaining
silence, it could be for only one reason.
He had been acting a part, and yet not acting merely with her. The
words he had spoken, the glances he had cast, the thousand little
acts and signs he had given while she had deemed him her cousin,
had expressed real feeling. He had not looked on her as unmaidenly,
but--and as the thought grafted itself more firmly upon her faith
in him, the colour came flooding again to her cheeks, but from such
different causes, and her eyes glowed.
“I thought----” she said, about to give impulsive utterance to her
new belief, when she checked herself, looked up with a smile of sweet
confusion, and then again dropped her eyes.
Gerard had watched her closely trying to read the perplexing changes
of her manner, fearing from her constraint and silence that she was
angered; but gathered hope fast when she smiled.
“I would give much to know that thought,” he said, when she faltered.
“You must not keep silence and run this risk for me,” she said slowly,
keeping her eyes upon the ground.
“Am I forgiven the deception I practised?” he whispered.
“Was it not done because you deemed it best for--for all things?”
She had meant to say “for me,” but the words hung on her lips so that
she could not utter them.
“For all things, no,” he answered pointedly, “for you, yes; for you
only.”
It was sweet hearing. Her heart beat fast and her bosom rose and fell
quickly in agitation. But she could not look at him, could not let him
see yet how deeply he had stirred her. She had passed one crisis of
racking pain when she feared that she had mistaken him; and shrank now
from even a chance of misjudgment.
“I believe that,” she said simply after a pause.
“And I am forgiven?” he pressed, eager for her to look at him, that
he might read in her sweet eyes the knowledge for which his heart was
hungering.
“Yes.” It was a whisper, no more; and still she kept her eyes down.
“And you trust me as ever?”
“I may?” she questioned in a whisper.
“As God is my judge you may,” he answered with intense passion.
“Could I forgive if I did not trust?”
“Thank God for that trust.”
She smiled and was lifting her face to meet his ardent gaze, when the
Governor and de Proballe returned.
Neither Gerard nor Gabrielle had had eyes or ears for them in the
minutes of absence; and had not noted how at first they had talked
together and had then sent for the two men, Antoine de Cavannes and
d’Estelle, and having questioned them, had once again conferred alone.
It was de Proballe who now took the chief part, and he approached
Gerard with a bland smile upon his sallow face, and said, in a smooth
even tone--
“My lord has now committed this matter to my hands, Gerard, as a family
affair; and I am confident it can be easily arranged.” Gerard noticed
the use of his name and the familiar manner, and read in it at once
some change of purpose.
“I do not wish your interference, monsieur, and recognize no right of
yours to take any such part.”
“I am acting solely in Gabrielle’s interest. I have put it to the Duke
that this matter can best be settled between us. You see, Gerard----”
“What do you mean by the use of that name to me?”
“Is not your name Gerard?” He put the question casually and with just
the necessary accent of surprise. “You must see how equivocal the
position is.”
“I desire to hold no intercourse with you, monsieur,” replied Gerard
coldly.
“You are really making a bad matter worse,” and de Proballe spread out
his hands deprecatingly. “You are either Gerard de Cobalt or some one
else. If the former, then this is a family matter which the Duke, in
his love of justice and regard for the honour of our family, is willing
to see arranged. But if the latter, then your conduct throughout is
open to great suspicion. You came to the city secretly; you took part
in our private affairs without the faintest warrant; you led a violent
revolt against the Governor’s soldiers; you have wounded one of his
followers--most unjustifiably; you have forced your way into the Castle
here and, if not actually a spy, have acted just as a spy would have
acted; you have been watched and observed to be in long confidential
conference with another stranger--some pestilent contumacious monk;
and thus have so gravely compromised yourself as to strain the Duke’s
clemency beyond endurance.”
“And all this harangue means--what?” asked Gerard, bluntly.
“That you are in a very ugly fix indeed, in which my influence with the
Duke can only with difficulty assist you. The monk with whom you spoke
has been placed in confinement.”
“You are right in one thing, M. de Proballe: I can read in this your
influence with the Governor. But those who know you best know that
never yet did your influence harm those against whom it was directed
nor help those for whom it was cast.”
At this moment a servant approached Gabrielle with a request that she
would go at once to the Duchess. She had been taken ill suddenly and
had asked urgently for Gabrielle.
“I will come soon.”
“You need not hesitate on account of me,” said Gerard with a smile.
“These soldiers here,” replied Gabrielle in a tone of alarm, as she
pointed to a number of men who showed in the doorways. “See. I fear
danger.”
“’Tis the hour for the change of guard, Gabrielle,” said de Proballe.
“I will not go yet,” she declared firmly.
“You cannot stay here, mademoiselle,” interposed the Governor bluntly.
“I will report to you all that passes, Gabrielle,” said de Proballe.
“I will not go,” she repeated.
“I think you had better,” urged Gerard.
“It must be as you will,” said de Proballe, when she shook her head
resolutely. “Now that the men are here they will see that no violence
is done. Our Gerard is so hasty, such a fire-eater, that he might be
tempted to some fresh rashness which would be fatal to all settlement.
Wait,” he said as if struck with a sudden thought. “It will serve the
same purpose if you will give me your sword, Gerard.”
“That I will never do,” was the quick indignant response.
“To me then, monsieur,” said the Governor, stepping forward.
“To no man, my lord.”
“Then it must be taken from you;” and the Governor signed to the
soldiers.
In a moment Gerard’s blade was out.
“Do you realize what you are doing, and where you are?” cried de
Proballe. “Drawing upon the Governor of Morvaix?”
“Who dares to lay a hand on me may look to himself. I see your plan,
monsieur,” said Gerard to de Proballe, with a bitter smile.
“Disarm him,” commanded the Governor, his eyes flashing. “This is
treason against the constituted ruler, monsieur.”
“Gerard, Gerard!” cried Gabrielle in dire alarm.
“Come, Gabrielle, you must not interfere in this,” and de Proballe
seized her hand and drew her aside.
Gerard sprang forward to interfere, but the soldiers interposed and
prevented him.
“Cut him down if he resists,” was the Governor’s command, implacably
given.
For some moments the fierce unequal combat raged, and two of the
soldiers being wounded, the others fell back for a moment.
“My lord, stop this fighting,” cried Gabrielle, struggling to free
herself from de Proballe’s grasp.
At her voice Gerard turned and made as if to go to her, but the
soldiers, seeing that his eyes were turned from them, chose the moment
to rush in again and one of them sprang upon him from behind. Thus
hampered he was soon overpowered by the number who attacked him, his
sword was wrenched from his grasp, and he was led away a prisoner.