Vayenne Part 42

"Let it be known that he is to be gently treated," said Christine.

"The man who does not obey me implicitly in this matter shall surely suffer for it."

"I am to be petted like a spoiled child," said Jean sharply, looking up first into one soldier's face, then into the face of the other.

"Taken care of, Jean, as a foolish man," said Christine.

"I'd rather be a child. I am tired of it all, and long to be carried."

And he sank to the floor, his legs doubled under him. It was so ludicrous that Christine laughed, but the next instant her laughter stopped short. Jean's movements were like lightning. With a sudden thrusting out of his foot, he had shot himself back as the soldiers stooped to lift him up, and had darted through the open door.

The corridor was empty, and the dwarf ran swiftly along it, and turned into a narrow pa.s.sage. The soldiers followed him shouting, but in the gathering twilight the shadows came early, and the soldiers did not know the castle as Jean did. He dared not hide, the chase must not be prolonged, or every man in the castle would be in his way. Probably only a few knew that he was to be arrested. The fact would serve him if he acted quickly. Jean could hear that others had already joined in the chase; there were more than two men following him now. He must reach the open--the terrace by the South Tower. As he ran across the court-yard men ran to intercept him, but not knowing the goal he was making for, they ran wide, and Jean turned sharply, and dashed across one of the smaller yards. As he ran toward the south terrace he saw there were four or five men there.

"Stop him!" shouted those behind.

Jean ran on. The men in front were evidently surprised at the commotion, but they spread across the terrace to catch him. Could his wit save him now? He shook his bauble as he ran forward.

"I've made such a fool of the big soldier yonder that he thinks he ought to have my clothes," Jean cried. "I'll let him catch me presently, and show you some fun. I'll not run farther than the end of the terrace. See how the big fellow puffs already! Who would spoil such sport?"

Not these men. They knew nothing of the dwarf's arrest, and a comrade made a fool of was always a good jest, so they let Jean through.

"Stop him! He's a prisoner!"

At the shout the men turned to catch him, but the momentary respite was Jean's opportunity. He dashed to the low wall of the terrace, and threw himself upon it. Two bullets chipped the stonework where he had been the instant before, but he was gone.

"Killed!" the men cried as they ran forward and jumped upon the wall to see where he had fallen. They were in time to see Jean let go of the rope and drop on to the dilapidated roof of the house below.

CHAPTER XXIII

THE GATES ARE SHUT

When Count Felix left the castle he returned to the Place Beauvoisin.

Countess Elisabeth turned quickly toward him as he entered the room.

She did not put her question into words, but he saw it in her eyes.

"It is the only way, Elisabeth," he answered.

She turned away from him without a word.

"Cannot you understand, dear, that I am a broken man and have no choice? Do you think I enjoy the sullen temper of de Bornais or the patronage of this priest?"

"But you love Christine."

"She must be my wife. The country demands it. She will hate me, you say; well, may there not presently lie a way of escape in that? Her power shall be nominal before we have reigned long together. A woman who hates is no wife for a Duke of Montvilliers. Do you not see the road of escape?"

She laughed.

"The nominal power will be yours, Felix."

"How little you know me," he answered.

"I know you for the tool of de Bornais and this Father Bertrand," she returned. "The other night in the Rue St. Romain it was plain that they only used you for a purpose. They tried to use this Roger Herrick for their own ends, but he has proved too strong for them. They are forced to plot with a weaker man--with you, Felix."

"For what purpose?"

"We are not in their councils," she answered, "nor, perhaps, is Christine, but their aim is not to quietly settle the crown upon you.

This Herrick is a man, one who holds what he has, and will fight for it to the bitter end. This plotting you favor can only breed more dissension. It is civil war these men are bent upon."

"Herrick has made civil war already," said Felix.

"He fights upon the frontier," she answered. "The rumors are uncertain, but had he been defeated we should have heard certainly of that. Ill news ever comes quickly. He wins, Felix; that is the truth, depend upon it, and for such a leader men easily fight and die. You will wake one morning to find Roger Herrick at the gates of Vayenne, a victorious army at his back."

"Then we must fight," said the Count.

"Fight! Where are your men? The rabble of the city? Are you fool enough to trust to such reeds as de Bornais and this priest?"

"No. I trust in myself," Felix answered.

"To-day not a hundred men would raise a cheer for you in Vayenne, that is why you are to marry Christine. She has scruples in leaving you out altogether, but she will be d.u.c.h.ess, with all the power held at the pleasure of these two men."

"You exaggerate their abilities."

"Felix, answer me one question. How came it that the enemy were gathered on the frontier, ready, waiting? It was not the crowning of Roger Herrick which brought them. Perhaps de Bornais and Father Bertrand could tell us."

"You are fanciful, too, Elisabeth. Tell me, how would you have me act?"

"First fling this plot in the teeth of the makers of it, and then ride out, and offer your sword to the Duke."

"How absurdly the dearest of women can talk," said the count; "and afterward beg his Grace's sanction to marry the Countess Elisabeth, I suppose. Are you really serious? Would you have me bend the knee to this adventurer?"

"Better that than be the tool of de Bornais. As for marriage with me, all thought of that is over. I told you the other night that your partic.i.p.ation in this plot separates us entirely, and for ever. The plot may fail, indeed I believe it will, but whatever happens I step out of your life."

"Elisabeth!"

"The choice has been yours. To-day you have seen Christine, you have pa.s.sed your word. I have already written to Christine for permission to leave the city. See, here is the letter."

"No order is valid without the signature of both of us."

"Poor Felix, how dense you are! You are a tool. You will have to do as you are bid. The tool has no choice how it will work or what work it will do."

The Countess had taken up a definite position. Whatever the Count's faults were, he had succeeded in winning the love of this woman, a love that was ready to sacrifice itself in his interests. Elisabeth had never really considered the possibility of becoming d.u.c.h.ess of Montvilliers, and since it had seemed certain that Felix must be Duke, there had from the outset been a hopelessness in her love. With the coming of Roger Herrick, however, the whole aspect of affairs had changed. There may have been some unreasonableness in her love then, for she hoped that Felix would accept the inevitable. Hope, in fact, had burst into flower. But not only did the Count refuse to accept defeat, he was indefinite besides. He strove to serve two ends which were totally opposed to each other. He must fight for his rights, he was obliged to marry Christine, yet he tried to believe that the future held happiness for him in the love of Elisabeth. His whole scheme was an impossibility, and the Countess knew it. With this new plot his last chance of definite decision had come; he had made his choice, and Elisabeth had accepted the inevitable.

They were still together, although silence had fallen between them, when Father Bertrand was announced. There was eagerness in his face, and his manner had nothing of its usual calm and strength.

"You were with Mademoiselle this afternoon, Count, but I understand that nothing absolutely definite was fixed between you."

"She has not said definitely when the marriage shall take place, if that is what you mean."