It was toward the great middle tower that Courtin now guided his
companion, not without stopping once or twice to listen; for, whether
it was reality or fancy, the mayor of La Logerie thought he saw
shadows gliding near them. But as Monsieur Hyacinthe reassured him
after every pause, he ended by thinking it an effect of imagination;
and when they reached the tower he opened a door, entered first, took
from his pocket a wax candle and a sulphur match, lighted the candle
and carried it cautiously into all the corners and angularities of the
room to make sure that no one was hidden there.
A door, cut in the wall to the right and partly broken down by the
rubbish of the ceiling, excited his fears and also his curiosity. He
pushed it open and found himself in front of a yawning space from
which a damp vapor was rising.
"Look there!" said Monsieur Hyacinthe, who followed him, showing
Courtin a wide breach in the outer wall, through which they could see
the lake sparkling in the moonlight. "Look at that!"
"I see it plain enough," said Courtin, laughing. "Yes, Mère Chompré's
dairy needs repairing; since I was here last the hole in that wall is
double the size it used to be. One might get a boat in now."
Raising his light and holding it outward he tried to look into the
depths below; not succeeding, he took a stone and flung it into the
water, where it fell with a sonorous noise that sounded like a threat,
while the wash of the ruffled water against the steps and the
foundations gave an answering ripple.
"Well," said Courtin, "there is evidently nothing there that can hear
us but the fish of the lake; and the old proverb says, you know, 'Mute
as a fish.'"
Just then a stone came rolling down from the roof along the tower wall
and fell into the courtyard.
"Did you hear that?" asked Monsieur Hyacinthe, uneasily.
"Yes," replied Courtin. Unlike his companion, who seemed to grow more
timorous in the gigantic shadow thrown by the ruins, the farmer
recovered courage after convincing himself that no human being could
possibly be lurking in the courtyard. "I've seen large bits of
masonry fall from the top of that old tower just from the blow of a
bat's wing."
"Hé, hé!" exclaimed Monsieur Hyacinthe, with his nasal laugh, which
was like that of a German Jew; "it is precisely the night-birds we
have to fear."
"Yes, the Chouans," replied Courtin. "But no! these ruins are too near
the village; and though a villain I thought I had got rid of has been
seen roaming about here to-day, I feel sure he won't dare to risk a
visit by night."
"Put out your light, then!"
"No, no; we don't need it to talk by, that's true, but we have
something else to do than talk, I'm thinking."
"Have we?" said Monsieur Hyacinthe, eagerly.
"Yes. Come into this recess, where we shall be sheltered, and where
the light can be hidden."
So saying he led Monsieur Hyacinthe beneath the archway that led down
to the gate of the cellars, placed the light behind a fallen stone,
and sat down himself on the cellar steps.
"Do you mean to say," said Monsieur Hyacinthe, planting himself in
front of Courtin, "that you are going to give me the name of the
street and the number of the house in which the duchess is hidden?"
"That, or something like it," replied Courtin, who had heard the
clinking of gold on Monsieur Hyacinthe's person, his eyes sparkling
with greed.
"Come, don't lose time in useless words. Do you know where she is
living?"
"No."
"Then why have you brought me here? Ha! if I have a regret it is that
I ever committed myself to a dawdler like you."
For all answer Courtin took the paper he had picked from the ashes of
the hearth in the rue du Marché and held it out to Monsieur Hyacinthe,
raising the light that he might see to read it.
"Who wrote that?" asked the Jew.
"The young girl I told you about, who was with the person we are in
search of."
"Yes, but she is not with her now."
"That is true."
"Therefore I should be glad to know what good this letter is. What
does it prove? How can it help our purpose?"
Courtin shrugged his shoulders and replaced the candle beside the
stone.
"Really, for a city gentleman," he said, "you are not very sharp."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Don't you see that the duchess offers an asylum to the man to whom
the letter is addressed, in case he is in any danger?"
"Yes, what next?"
"Next? Why, if we put him in danger he is certain to take it."
"And then?"
"Then we can search the house he goes to, and catch them all
together."
Monsieur Hyacinthe reflected.
"Yes, the scheme is a good one," he said, turning the letter over and
over in his hand and holding it near the candle to make sure it
contained no other writing.
"I should think it was a good one!" exclaimed Courtin.
"Where does that man live?" asked Monsieur Hyacinthe, carelessly.
"Oh, as for telling you where he lives, that's another matter. I've
told you the scheme, and you think it a good one,--you said so
yourself; if I told you how to carry it out I should just be giving
myself away for nothing."
"But suppose the man does not accept the retreat offered to him, and
does not go to the house where she is hidden?" said Monsieur
Hyacinthe.
"Oh, that's impossible if we follow a plan I'll explain to you. His
own house has two issues. We go to one with a posse of soldiers; he
escapes by the other, which we leave clear; he sees no danger that
way, but we follow him from a distance. You see for yourself the thing
can't fail. And now, unfasten your belt and pay me the money."
"Will you come with me?"
"Of course I will."
"From now till the game is played you will not leave me a single
instant?"
"I don't wish to, inasmuch as you only pay me half now."
"But remember this," said Monsieur Hyacinthe, with a determination
scarcely to be expected from his pacific demeanor, "I warn you that if
you make even one suspicious gesture, if I have the slightest reason
to think you are deceiving me, I will blow your brains out."
So saying Monsieur Hyacinths drew a pistol from his pocket and showed
it to his companion. The face of the man who made the threat was cold
and calm, but a dangerous flash in his eye convinced the other that he
was a man to keep his word.
"As you please," said Courtin; "and all the easier for you because I
have no weapon."
"That's a blunder," remarked Monsieur Hyacinthe.
"Come," said Courtin, "pay me what you promised, and swear to me that
if the thing succeeds you will pay me as much more."
"You may rely upon my word, which is sacred; a man is honest, or he is
not honest. But why do you want to carry this gold yourself, as you
and I are not to part?" continued Monsieur Hyacinthe, who seemed to
have as much reluctance to part with his belt as Courtin had eagerness
to grasp it.
"What!" exclaimed the latter; "don't you see I'm in a fever to touch
that gold, to feel it, to handle it? I am dying to know if it is
really there, even if I don't touch it. Why, for the joy of that, for
that one moment of happiness when I feel it in my fingers, I've risked
all! You shall give it to me now, or I'll not say another word. Yes!
for this one moment I've braved everything, I've summoned courage,--I
who am afraid of my shadow, I who trembled and shook when I walked up
our avenue at night. Give me that gold, give me that gold, monsieur!
We have many dangers to face, many risks to run yet; that gold will
give me courage. Give me that gold if you wish me to be as calm, as
relentless as yourself."
"Yes," replied Monsieur Hyacinthe, who had watched the vivid lighting
up of the peasant's dull, wan face as he said these words. "Yes, you
shall have the money the instant you give me the address; but I will
have the address, the address!"
One was as eager as the other for the thing each desired. Monsieur
Hyacinthe rose, and took off his belt; Courtin, intoxicated with the
metallic sound he heard, again stretched forth his hand to seize it.
"One moment!" cried Monsieur Hyacinthe; "give and take!"
"Yes, but let me first see if it is really gold you have there."
The Jew shrugged his shoulders, but he yielded to the wishes of his
accomplice; he pulled the iron chain that closed the mouth of the
leathern bag, and Courtin, dazzled by the gleam of gold, felt a
shudder pass through all his body, while with elongated neck, and
fixed eyes, and trembling lips, he plunged his hands with ineffable,
indescribable pleasure into the heap of coin which rippled through his
fingers.
"He lives," he said, "rue du Marché, No. 22; the other door is in an
alley running parallel with the rue du Marché."
Maître Hyacinthe released his hold on the belt, which Courtin seized
with a deep sigh of satisfaction. But almost at the same instant he
raised his head with a terrified look.
"What is it?" asked Monsieur Hyacinthe.
"I heard steps," said the farmer, his face convulsed.
"No, no," said the Jew, "I heard nothing. I've been a fool to give you
that money."
"Why?" said Courtin, clasping the belt to his breast as if afraid the
other might snatch it back.
"Because it seems to double your fears."
With a rapid movement Courtin clutched his companion's arm.
"What is the matter?" asked Monsieur Hyacinthe again, beginning to
feel uneasy.
"I tell you I hear steps overhead!" said Courtin, looking up to the
dark and gloomy space above them.
"Nonsense; perhaps you are ill."
"I don't feel well, that's true."
"Then let's leave the place; we have nothing more to do here, and it
is time we were on the way to Nantes."
"No, no, not yet."
"Why not yet?"
"Let us hide here and listen. People are about, and they are watching
for us; and if they are watching for us they'll guard the door. Oh, my
God! my God! can it be that they are after my gold already?" moaned
the farmer, trying to fasten the belt about his waist, but trembling
so violently that he could not do it.
"My good friend, you are certainly losing your head," said Monsieur
Hyacinthe, who proved to be the more courageous man of the two. "Let
us put out the light and hide in the cellar. We can see from there if
you are mistaken."
"You are right, you are right," said Courtin, blowing out the candle
as he opened the cellar door and went down the first step into the
inundated vault.
But he went no farther. A cry of terror burst from him, in which could
be heard the words:--
"Help, help! Monsieur Hyacinthe!"
The latter laid a hand on his pistol, when a powerful hand seized his
arm and twisted it as if to break it. The pain was so great that the
Jew fell on his knees, the sweat pouring from his face as he cried out
for mercy.
"One word, and I'll kill you like the dog you are!" said the voice of
Maître Jacques. Then, addressing Joseph Picaut, who was just behind
him, he went on: "Well, do-nothing, haven't you got him? What are you
about?"
"Oh, the villain!" exclaimed Joseph, in a voice that was broken and
breathless from his efforts to hold Courtin, whom he had seized the
moment the latter opened the door to go down the cellar stairs, and
who was now making desperate efforts to save, not himself, but his
gold. "Oh, the traitor! he is biting me, tearing me. If you hadn't
forbidden me to bleed him, I'd soon have done for him."
At the same instant two bodies fell within six feet of Monsieur
Hyacinthe, whom Maître Jacques was pinning to the ground.
"If he kicks too long, kill him, kill him!" said Maître Jacques. "Now
that I know all I want to know, I don't see why not."
"Damn it! why didn't you say so before, and I'd have finished him at
once!"
By a violent effort Picaut threw Courtin under him and got a knee upon
his breast, pulling a long-bladed knife from his belt, on which, dark
as it was, Courtin saw the light flashing.
"Mercy! mercy!" cried the mayor. "I'll tell all, I'll confess all; but
don't kill me!"
Maître Jacques' hand stayed Picaut's arm, which, in spite of Courtin's
offer, was in the act of descending upon him.
"Don't kill him!" said Maître Jacques, "on reflection, he may still be
useful. Tie him up like a sausage, and don't let him stir, paws or
toes!"
The luckless Courtin was so terrified that he actually held out his
hands to Joseph, who bound them with a slender, loose rope Maître
Jacques had made his companion bring with him. Nevertheless, the
wretched man would not release his clutch on the belt full of gold,
which he held pressed to his stomach by his elbow.
"Haven't you bound him yet?" cried Maître Jacques, impatiently.
"Let me finish roping this paw," replied Joseph.
"Very good; and when you've done bind this fellow, too," continued
Maître Jacques, pointing to Monsieur Hyacinthe, whom he had allowed to
get upon his knees, in which posture the Jew remained silent and
motionless.
"I could do it faster if there were any light," said Joseph Picaut,
provoked to find a knot in his rope, which in the darkness he could
not undo.
"Well, after all," said Maître Jacques, "why the devil are we in a
hurry? Why not light the lantern? It would do my soul good to see the
faces of these sellers of kings and princes."
Suiting the action to the word, Maître Jacques pulled out a little
lantern and lighted it with a sulphur match as imperturbably as if he
had been in the depths of his forest of Touvois; then he turned the
light full on the faces of Monsieur Hyacinthe and Courtin. By the
gleam of that light Joseph Picaut saw the leather belt the farmer was
hugging to his breast, and he sprang forward to tear it from him.
Maître Jacques mistook the object of his action. Thinking that the
Chouan's hatred to Courtin had got the better of him, and that he
meant to kill him, the master of rabbits sprang forward to prevent it.
As he did so a line of fire darted from the upper part of the tower
and shot through the darkness; a dull explosion was heard and Maître
Jacques fell head foremost on Courtin's body, who felt his face
covered with a warm and fetid liquid.
"Ha! villain!" cried Maître Jacques, rising on one knee and addressing
Joseph, "ha! you have led me into a trap. I forgave you your lie, but
you shall pay for your treachery!"
Raising his pistol, he fired at close quarters on Pascal Picaut's
brother. The lantern rolled down the steps into the waters below and
was extinguished; the smoke of the two shots made the darkness deeper.
Monsieur Hyacinthe, when Maître Jacques fell, rose pale, mute, mad
with terror, and ran hither and thither about the tower, endeavoring
to find an exit. At last he saw through a narrow window the sparkle of
a star on the black vault of heaven, and with the strength of terror
he climbed to the opening, giving no heed to the fate of his
accomplice, and plunged head foremost into the lake.
The immersion into cold water calmed the blood which was rushing
violently to his brain, and he recovered his self-control. He came to
the surface of the water, where he kept himself by swimming. Then he
looked about him to see in which direction he had better turn, and his
eyes lighted on a boat moored at the breach in the wall through which
the waters of the lake had forced their way into the tower.
Shuddering, he swam for it, making as little noise as he could,
climbed in, seized the oars, and was five hundred feet away from the
shore before he even thought of his companion.
"Rue du Marché, No. 22," he cried. "No, terror hasn't made me forget
it. Success depends now on the rapidity with which I get to Nantes.
Poor Courtin!--I may now consider myself heir to the last fifty
thousand francs; but what a fool I was to give him the first! I might
at this very moment have had the address and the money both. What a
blunder! what a blunder!"
Then, to stifle his remorse, the Jew bent to his oars and made the
boat spin across the lake with a vigor which seemed quite incompatible
with his weakly appearance.