Vayenne Part 48

"It means death," Mercier said in a hoa.r.s.e whisper. "Hide for a little while. I have already sent to find the Duke. Surely this is not done by his command?"

"Failure to the man who plays for high stakes often means death, Mercier," the priest answered. "We have failed, and I do not s.h.i.+rk the penalty. Indeed, is there anything left but death for me?"

"The Duke will be merciful," pleaded Mercier.

"I look for no man's mercy. My conscience is clear. But for you, Mercier, there is danger, too; we must not forget that. Hasten. Make your peace quickly with the Duke. You were but a tool. They will not seek to break the tool, once they have crushed the hand that held it."

"Come, father, there is yet time."

"Go quickly, Mercier. Listen! They are shouting in the street. Go, I say. I would be alone." And he put his hands on Mercier's shoulders, and gently pushed him from the sacristy. "Go, and peace be with you."

The crowd were not at the door of the sacristy, but at one of the larger doors which opened into the Rue St. Romain: Father Bertrand pa.s.sed into the church. For a few moments he knelt before the altar in a side chapel, and then he went with firm steps toward this door.

Long ago the crowd had lost all self-control. The spoliation of the priest's house had but inflamed their appet.i.te for further violence.

The door of the house had been locked against them, and they had broken it down and done their will; was the closed door of the church to stop them from wreaking their vengeance upon the priest? So they hammered upon the door, crying aloud for their prey.

"Break it down!" shouted those behind, some of the men who were superst.i.tious in their sober state, and had a reverence for sacred things. All reverence, all superst.i.tion was forgotten. They would kill the priest, but they were unlikely to stop at this. All control was gone, every restraint loosened. To wreck and spoil had become fierce joy. What mad delight it would be to wreck St. Etienne!

Suddenly the door was flung open from within, and Father Bertrand with arms outstretched stood upon the step.

"Who are they that thus insult the House of G.o.d?" he cried in a loud voice.

For an instant the crowd fell back before the commanding figure. But behind, the crowd surged and shouted, as though they struggled to get to the front.

"False priest! Betrayer of his country! Traitor."

The cries were sharp and fierce, and then one man, a soldier, sprang forward, and struck twice at the priest's breast. For an instant he swayed, his arms flung upward, the fingers wide outspread, and then he fell p.r.o.ne across the threshold. But there was no forward rush into the church. The body of the murdered priest guarded it. That was a barrier they dared not pa.s.s.

Nor was it those at the back of the crowd seeking to press forward to the front which caused the surging and shouting there; it was Herrick and his men fighting their way to the priest's rescue. Even as the man stepped back after striking the second blow, Herrick was upon him, and cut him down.

Silence fell suddenly upon the crowd, and then another soldier who had been leading the mob pointed to his dead comrade; and said:

"Sir, is that justice? Did you not say that there were vipers in Vayenne that must be crushed?"

CHAPTER XXVII

ONLY THE FOOL

Roger Herrick signed the last of the papers upon his table, and leaning back in his chair looked at Lemasle, who had entered the room a few moments before. Jean squatted in his favorite att.i.tude on the floor beside Herrick's chair.

"Yes, yes, Lemasle, all you say is true. While they live, some men will plot and scheme, but to me this seems no reason why I should kill them."

"Sir, once before I said you were too lenient; was I wrong?"

"No; you were right, yet I would be lenient again. Do I disappoint you, Lemasle?"

"Only in this, sir. Justice and expediency demand that traitors should pay the penalty of their treachery."

"There must be something wanting in my nature to make me an ideal Duke."

"Sir, Montvilliers is proud of her Duke, and every day, every hour, the people grow to love you better."

"Surely then we can afford to be lenient," said Herrick.

"Not to traitors," Lemasle answered promptly. "Count Felix despised your leniency. De Bornais, whom you trusted, rebelled, and would have sold his country."

"And Mademoiselle de Liancourt?" asked Herrick quietly.

"She is a woman, sir."

"And is a woman never a traitor?" asked Herrick.

"At least Mademoiselle loves her country, and perhaps----" The captain paused, and looked at Herrick.

"Well, Lemasle?"

"The sentence is best left unfinished, but women's love finds strange ways of revenging itself if it is scorned," said the Captain.

Herrick did not answer, but Jean, either of set purpose or by accident, made his bells jingle for a moment.

"I would once more urge stringent measures, sir," Lemasle went on after a pause. "The people expect it. They look for such measures to bring peace to the country. You are reluctant to let justice take its course, and it may be that I understand something of your mind in this, but, if I may advise, why not postpone judgment? In a few days the n.o.bles will be a.s.sembled in Vayenne, let them decide against the Count and de Bornais as they will. Have they not often in times past been summoned to give decision in such a case? Why should you give judgment to-day?"

"Because, Lemasle, I fear the justice of the n.o.bles," Herrick answered. "My orders must stand. See that the prisoners are brought into the hall. And, captain, think presently of some honor you covet, and it shall be yours. If we are slow to condemn, we would be quick in our rewards."

"Sir, your trust, your friends.h.i.+p almost, leaves me covetous of little else."

"Yet think, Lemasle. Dukes die, or are deposed, it is well to take something off them while they have the power to give. We will talk of this again."

Lemasle saluted, and withdrew.

"What would that good soldier say if he knew?" mused Herrick.

"I wonder," said Jean.

"I had forgotten you," said Herrick, with a start. "Did I put my thought into words?"

"You spoke, friend Roger, and have still some secrets, it would seem."

"Many, Jean. I will tell you one. I am not fitted to be a Duke."

"In that matter, at least, I should leave others to be the judges,"

said the dwarf.

"None can judge a man so well as he can judge himself if he will only be honest," Herrick returned. "I spoke inadvisedly, Jean, the other day, and it has quickly resulted in tragedy. Would I had been in time to save Father Bertrand."