A RISING AND ITS SEQUEL
The officer stared with growing anger, first at Dubois, then back at
Gerard, and lastly at the four of his men who had moved away and left
him and the one Castle soldier alone in the middle of the room.
“Is this mutiny?” he cried furiously, drawing his sword.
“I’ll answer that,” said Dubois. “It would be a mutiny if they were to
turn against their own officer. And they will not. This is my doing,
and the responsibility is mine. I will not let you take your prisoners
away.”
“We’ll see to that. Jean, if that man does not stand from the door,
you will fire at him.” The musket was levelled. “Now, monsieur, if you
please, stand from the door,” he cried sternly.
But the musket was not fired. Gerard stepped swiftly behind the man,
seized his weapon and dragged it from him.
“We can have no firing here,” he said quietly.
“You will resist capture at your peril;” and the officer turned on him.
“I am quite prepared for that, captain,” interposed Dubois; “but it is
you who are in peril, not we. You will give me your sword.”
The officer appealed almost fiercely to the four men.
“Do you mean to stand by and witness this? You will pay for it if you
do with your lives.”
“My soldiers are not trained to man-hunting, monsieur,” said Dubois.
“Come, we have wasted enough time. Will you surrender to us?”
The answer was a swift rush and an attack, which Dubois parried with
the coolness of a wary and practised fencer. The four soldiers looked
on stolidly, and the one who had been disarmed watched the duel with
the staring gaze of bewilderment and alarm.
It lasted but a minute or two, when Dubois, forcing the fight with
irresistible vigour, drove his antagonist back till, stepping on the
fallen musket, he tripped and fell, and his sword went clattering out
of his hand over the boards.
Dubois picked it up, and sheathed his own weapon. At that moment the
Castle soldier made a dash for the door to escape, only to be stopped
by two of the Bourbon men.
“You should not have driven me to this, monsieur,” said Dubois in a
tone of quiet authority. The officer had risen and stood with folded
arms, his face flushed with anger and his brow sullen with the chagrin
and humiliation of his ignominious failure. “You must accompany me. No
harm will come to you if you obey. But we are resolute men, and our
lives may be at stake.” He signed to his own soldiers to bring the
prisoner along, and all left the room.
“What is he going to do, Gerard?” asked Gabrielle. “How terrible he
looked in that fight.”
“He’s a strenuous antagonist to face at such a time; but he meant only
to disarm the other. He could have killed him half a dozen times had he
been so minded. He has done splendidly.”
“But what next? We cannot stay here now.”
“No, indeed, for we shall have more of the Castle men here soon to
learn the cause of the delay.”
“What can have happened to Lucette? Dear, brave Lucette.”
“We are fast nearing the end of our troubles, Gabrielle. D’Alembert
should be up by nightfall at latest if all has gone well with our
couriers, and we ought to be in Malincourt within an hour, where we can
wait for him in safety.”
Dubois and the four soldiers returned then, Dubois dressed in the
uniform of a Castle man; and Gabrielle could not restrain a little cry
of astonishment at recognizing him, while Gerard smiled as he divined
his intention.
“My plan is, my lord, that we use our men and play the guard to escort
you and mademoiselle as prisoners through the streets. We have secured
the captain and his man, so that they can give us no trouble.”
“And a good plan it is, Dubois,” agreed Gerard. “We are well through an
ugly business, thanks to you. The sooner we start the better.”
It was about two hours after noon when they left Babillon’s house; but
while they had been sheltered there events had occurred which had set
the whole of the little city in a ferment.
The first cause had been slight: a very trifle; no more than the young
lieutenant’s curiosity at Lucette’s name at the attempt to pass the
gate. He had, in the first place, sent men to follow her; and although
she had reached Gerard and Gabrielle and got well away undiscovered,
the pursuit had been far from fruitless. Two of the men loitering about
had seen Gerard when he returned with the horses.
They were making their report of this when the soldier whom Pascal had
tricked returned without him, and in a semi-intoxicated muddle had told
the story of two Pascals. Alarmed by this, the lieutenant had sent at
once to the Castle, with the result that instant and most vigorous
measures were taken to trace the fugitives. The fact that the horses
had been obtained at no great distance from Babillon’s house caused
that district to be searched first, while large numbers of patrol
parties were sent through the city.
This step roused the citizens again, and despite Dubois’ opinion as
to the indecision of the burgher leaders, they had resolved to take
active measures; while the bulk of the citizens, inflamed by their
long-standing wrongs, were quickly on fire when the soldiers turned out
and the news spread that they were hunting for Gabrielle.
All the elements for a collision were thus present, and the streets
were thronged with the people, who eyed the soldiers with lowering
looks of deadly hate, and needed but a little provocation to drive them
to open and violent revolt.
And that provocation the Governor himself afforded at the very time
when Gerard and his little party were endeavouring to escort Gabrielle
to Malincourt.
The Governor, hearing of the danger of trouble in the city, hurried
from the Castle with the intention of conferring with the chief
burghers and renewing the assurances already given that no harm
threatened Gabrielle; and he chanced to reach the market place just
when the crowd was in its most dangerous temper.
In the centre of the market place the officers who were conducting the
search had taken up a position, guarded by a number of troops, and to
them all the prisoners captured by the patrols and search parties were
brought for purposes of identification. The crowd, constantly swelling
in numbers, watched the proceedings with intense indignation. Jeers
and groans greeted the arrival of every prisoner, and loud flouting
laughter went up whenever a prisoner was identified and released,
accompanied by threatening murmurs of discontent and anger.
At length stones began to be thrown, and when one struck the officer in
command in the face the crowd raised a wild shout of delight. Smarting
under the blow, he ordered the crowd to be charged. Several were
wounded, and the sight so enraged the rest that volleys of stones came
from other directions just as the Governor rode up.
His first command was for the market place to be cleared. This was
done, for the crowd broke and fled before the weapons of the troops;
and a great number of the citizens were caught, stones in hand, and
brought back to the Governor. His temper was up now, and threatening
them with heavy punishment, he ordered the whole of them to be marched
to the Castle by the troops.
The fear of a rescue necessitated the escort being very heavy, and this
step left the troops round him comparatively weak in numbers. When the
crowd began to return, some one was quick to perceive this weakness,
and called on the rest, who came surging back in great strength. A very
ugly rush followed almost immediately, which the troops found great
difficulty in resisting, as the crowd had now armed themselves with
staves and bars and such crude weapons as they had been able to snatch
up in the hurry. Some very hot fighting ensued, in which fierce blows
were given and taken on both sides, and the soldiers seemed likely to
be overpowered.
It was at this juncture, just as messengers had been sent to bring up
more troops, that Gerard’s little party reached the market place close
to the point near the statue, where the Governor stood watching the
fray with very anxious eyes as he saw his soldiers being beaten down
one by one. The crowd seemed to grow in numbers and fierceness every
moment, until after a last desperate rush the soldiers turned and
scattered in all directions to be hustled, struck down and lost in the
surging mass of the people, whose leaders had possessed themselves of
the soldiers’ weapons, and now threatened the Governor himself and the
handful of men who were clustered round him.
“Long live Malincourt! Long live Malincourt! Down with the Tyrant!
Remember our wrongs!” were the cries in hundreds of strenuous voices on
all sides; and after a hot exchange of words between the leaders and
the Governor, one of those near him was struck, and the blow was the
signal for an attack on the rest, who were beaten back helpless against
the resistless anger of the populace. It appeared certain that the next
moment would see the Governor himself in the hands of the crowd, whose
passions, nurtured on their long endured wrongs and whetted now by
their victory, were roused to such a pitch of fury that they would have
torn him to pieces.
The Governor, now fear-filled and terror-cowed, stood shrinking against
the statue from the sea of angry menacing faces which glared round him
when Gerard, who had forced his way through the throng, sprang between
the cowering figure and the mob, and with uplifted hand cried in a
commanding voice that rose above the din--
“Mademoiselle de Malincourt is safe. She is here.”
He pointed to where, on the fringe of the crowd, Gabrielle stood with
Dubois; and for a moment there was a lull in the storm as the crowd
craned their necks for a glimpse of her.
But the sense of wrong, the thirst for vengeance, the hate of the
Tyrant and the sight of him now almost within touch of the hands
outstretched to seize him, soon re-kindled the flame, and the clamour
broke out again, and now was directed also against this daring monk who
stood between them and their prey.
“Down with the monk! Death to the Tyrant!”
The cry began near at hand, and was caught up by those round until it
swelled into a loud roar, vehement, menacing and perilous.
“Save me, save me,” said the Governor, cowering now between the
statue and Gerard, who, undaunted by the angry faces and clenched and
threatening hands, faced the mob, and again sent his voice ringing like
a clarion among them.
“Peace! Are ye men that would do this violence? Miladi of Malincourt is
safe.”
Once more his commanding presence and fearless calm stilled them for a
pause; and before the storm could break out again a strange change came.
Gabrielle had seen Gerard’s peril, and believing that he would be the
next victim of the mob, had made herself known to the people around
her, who broke out into shouts of joy, and amid a storm of cries and
cheers she passed through the ranks, mounted the steps of the statue
and took her stand by Gerard’s side.
A thunder of cheers greeted her appearance, and the air was rent with
cries of “Long live Malincourt!”
But the danger was not over yet, for when the Governor, gathering some
courage from the changed temper of the mob, showed himself for a moment
at Gabrielle’s side, the cheers changed with ominous suddenness to
shouts and execrations and groans in the same deafening clamour.
“For God’s sake, save me from them,” he said, shrinking again behind
Gerard. “They will tear me to pieces.”
“May we promise them an end to their sufferings?” asked Gabrielle.
“Yes, yes, anything. I will do anything. My God, anything!”
“Down with the Tyrant. Give him to us. Death to the Tiger of Morvaix!”
came the cries, with even fiercer vehemence.
Again Gerard stood with uplifted hand.
“Peace!” he called. “Miladi of Malincourt will speak to you.”
At this the cheers came again as Gabrielle, with heightened colour,
waited for silence.
“I beg you listen to me. I bring you peace, and in the name of the
Governor I promise you an end to your wrongs and sufferings.”
The cheers rang out again, and as they died down some voices called:
“We are starving. What of the tax on our food?”
“It shall be repealed,” said the Governor.
“The Governor pledges his word it shall be repealed,” cried Gabrielle.
A deafening storm of wild joyous shouts burst out with mighty cries of
“God bless Malincourt! Long live Miladi of Malincourt!”
“Will he keep his promise?” cried a stentorian voice.
“I pledge my honour.”
Gerard repeated this in his ringing tone.
“The Governor pledges his honour as a noble of France to repeal the
tax--a pledge no man dare break.”
“You have saved my life, mademoiselle, you and this monk,” said the
Governor, not recognizing Gerard, who had kept his face carefully
averted, and now drew his cowl closer.
“We have saved the people,” answered Gabrielle, whose eyes were shining
with the excitement of the scene.
“Get me away if you can,” said the Governor next. “Oh, thank God, thank
God, at last!” he cried with a sudden change of tone, as a volley of
musketry was heard, and a large body of mounted troops dashed through
the crowd and mustered in force round the statue, on the base of which
the three stood.
With the troops round him, the Governor’s courage returned, and as his
fears vanished his true nature reasserted itself. He scowled at the
crowd.
“Charge them, charge them, the canaille!” he cried passionately. “Cut
them down, the dogs. To threaten me! Give them the steel!”
“My lord, is this keeping your pledge?” asked Gerard indignantly.
“You did well, sir monk, you saved my life, and shall have fitting
reward; but this is my business.”
“You pledged your honour as a noble of France, my lord Duke,” protested
Gerard.
At this moment de Proballe broke through the troops and came hurrying
to the Governor.
“You are not hurt, my lord, I trust,” he cried.
“It is not your fault that I was not torn to pieces by the mob. But for
mademoiselle, your niece, and this good monk, who stopped the mob in
the moment of frenzy, I should have been.”
“My God!” exclaimed de Proballe, recognizing Gerard. “Do you know who
that monk is? The villain de Cobalt!”
The Governor, who stood close to Gerard, stepped back hastily, as if in
fear of some treachery, and when at a safe distance scowled at him with
eyes of hate.
“It is well,” he said between his teeth. “I promised you a fitting
reward. You shall have it.” He smiled, and turning to the soldiers near
him, he ordered: “Arrest him.”
“You will not do this, my lord. You cannot be so cowardly,” cried
Gabrielle, putting herself before Gerard. But this act only served to
infuriate him.
“Arrest him, I say,” he repeated. “It is I rule here, mademoiselle, not
you. You shall not protect him and cannot save him from the fate he
merits. You have done enough ill for the people already.”
“This injustice shall not be done,” declared Gabrielle indignantly.
“You will answer for this to me, my lord Duke, as the son of your
Suzerain,” said Gerard, stepping forward.
“Yes. I will answer to you and for you; and answer now, in this way.”
He signed to the soldiers, who then laid hands on Gerard.
“I will appeal to the people,” cried Gabrielle vehemently.
“There shall be substance for your appeal, too,” he replied. He was
like a man beside himself with passion. “He shall not escape me again.
Have a space cleared there,” he thundered to his men. “Bring up a file
of men. This man is a spy and the ringleader of all the tumults to-day.
He is condemned to death, and shall die now.”
Even his officers stood aghast at this.
“I demand, at least, the appearance of a trial,” said Gerard calmly.
“You have been tried already. I know your crimes, and have tried and
condemned you. Do as I say,” he thundered to the officers, “or by the
God of Heaven I shall know how to deal with those who mutiny against
me.”
“I am the son of the Duke of Bourbon, and in his name I command you to
disregard the Governor’s order,” said Gerard in a loud, firm tone.
“It is a lie, a lie. Disobey me at your peril.”
Two of the officers approached and were venturing upon a remonstrance,
when the Governor, mad with his rage, struck one of them a violent blow
on the face and himself called up a file of the soldiers.
“Bring that villain here,” he said to the men who held Gerard. They
were too frightened to disobey him.
Gabrielle watched with bated breath, and was springing forward to again
interfere when de Proballe put himself in her way.
“My lord, my lord,” she cried in an agony of distress and fear. “I urge
you, I beg you not to do this thing.”
But the Governor was deaf to her entreaty, and having drawn up the file
of men, stood by them, and himself gave the command in a voice thick
with rage.
Gerard faced the men without a tremor.
“There will be a heavy reckoning for all concerned in this,” he said;
and his voice was as calm and steady as before.
The Governor’s command rang out stern and sharp, and the guns went up
to the men’s shoulders.
Then, with a scream, Gabrielle tore herself from de Proballe, and
snatching a sword from an officer as she passed, rushed in front of
Gerard and held it to her heart.
“If he dies, I will plunge this to my heart, and my blood, with his,
shall cry for vengeance upon you.”
The Governor listened, his angry eyes fixed on Gabrielle.
“And if he lives?”
“I will do all you have asked.”
“No,” cried Gerard loudly. “I will not take my life on such a
condition.”
A moment’s pause of acute suspense followed. Then the Governor nodded
and said curtly--
“It is enough. You have saved his life, mademoiselle. He shall go free.
But first take him to the Castle.”
And in a few minutes the troops were on their way to the Castle, with
Gerard in their midst, once more a prisoner.