My Sword's My Fortune Part 34

"It is a strange story, monsieur, and says little for my sense, but you shall hear it," and I related how cunningly Francois had lured me into the arms of his fellow-plotters.

"Pah!" exclaimed the councillor, wrinkling up his forehead, "that is a child's invention. You cannot expect us to believe such a tale."

"Still it is true, monsieur."

For nearly an hour longer the councillor continued putting all sorts of questions concerning Mazarin's plans, none of which I could answer. My silence made him very angry, and at last he exclaimed in a pa.s.sion, "Take him away. I warrant we shall soon find a means of loosing his tongue."

The soldiers formed up and I was marched across the courtyard, where several prisoners who were not confined to their cells a.s.sembled to watch me pa.s.s. I gazed at them eagerly, but they were all strangers who only regarded me as a prisoner in a far worse plight than themselves.

"Courage, monsieur," whispered the gaoler, as the soldiers turned back from my cell, "we all have our misfortunes."

He spoke in a kindly manner and I looked at him gratefully, for a prisoner has but few friends. Then the door clanged, the bolts were pushed home, and I was left alone to reflect on the councillor's last words. I had heard too much not to understand what he meant by finding a way to loose my tongue, and I instantly began to conjure up all kinds of horrible pictures. However, it was useless going to meet trouble, so I endeavoured to banish the subject from my mind, and to think of my friends, Raoul, Marie, and the Englishman, who were doubtless wondering what had become of me.

CHAPTER XVII.

Free!

On the third night after my visit to the Council Chamber I was awakened from a sound sleep by some one shaking my arm. Looking up and rubbing my eyes, I beheld the gaoler with a lantern in his hand bending over me.

"Rise, monsieur, and dress quickly," said he.

"Who wants me at this time of night?" I asked.

"I do not know, monsieur. I have my orders, and the soldiers are waiting at the foot of the stairs. But courage, monsieur!"

The tone in which the man spoke made me s.h.i.+ver. It was plain that he expected the worst, and I immediately remembered the councillor's threats. My heart beat quickly at the thought of the dreaded torture chamber, and my fingers trembled as I fastened my clothes.

"Am I to be put on the rack?" I asked, but the gaoler, shaking his held slowly, replied that he knew nothing.

"An officer of police brought an order signed by the Governor, but he would answer no questions. If it should be so, confess everything, monsieur. You are very young, and the rack--ah!"

"Thanks, my friend, though I am sorry your advice will not help me. I have already told the truth, and they would not believe it."

"Say what they wish, monsieur! Anything to escape the torture! I have been in the chamber once, and it was horrible for a strong man even to look on. And they are sure to get what they want in the end."

"At all events I will bear up as long as I can!"

"It is useless, monsieur, useless, I a.s.sure you," said he, as I finished dressing.

We left the room, and, descending the stairway, found the soldiers drawn up at the bottom.

"Albert de Lalande!" exclaimed their officer, and the next minute I was walking in the midst of my escort to the court, where a carriage stood in waiting.

"Enter, monsieur," said the officer, who himself followed, while the troopers mounted their horses.

I leaned my head against the back of the coach in a state of both wonder and relief. Whatever else happened it seemed that I was not to be taken to the torture chamber. The night was dark, but I could tell that we were leaving the Bastille. Where were we going? I addressed myself to the officer, but received only a curt "Silence!" in reply.

Did they intend to execute me without further trial? It might be so--more than one prisoner had been hurried from the Bastille in the darkness for that purpose. Might was right in those days, and justice stood a poor chance of getting itself heard.

I could not discover in what direction we drove, but the journey was long and apparently roundabout, perhaps in order to avoid attention.

The officer sat rigidly upright, with his sword drawn, keeping keen watch and ward as if I had been a most desperate criminal. There was, however, small chance of escape, even if I could overpower my guard.

The soldiers rode on each side of the coach, and I should have been cut down instantly.

At last the carriage stopped, the officer opened the door and ordered me to descend. We had halted in front of a large building, which at first I failed to recognise. Several armed men stood on the top-most step.

"At least the place isn't a prison!" I concluded, as the officer hurried me to the entrance and along the corridor, while two of the gentlemen in waiting followed close behind.

Nearly at the end, and on our right hand, was a door hung with rich tapestry. Pus.h.i.+ng the curtains aside, the officer knocked softly, and then ushered me into a large apartment furnished in the most sumptuous and magnificent manner.

"Albert de Lalande, your Highness!" he announced, and I looked quickly at the man who stood up to receive me.

This, then, must be the renowned Conde who had restored l.u.s.tre to the French arms, though I held that the country had amply repaid the brilliant soldier for his skill and valour. I was also one of those who believed that winning a battle did not place a man above the laws, nor give him the right to ride rough-shod over his fellows. Still, Conde was a brilliant general, and certainly second to none save Turenne; while there were not wanting numerous flatterers who ranked the prince first.

A thin man of average height it was who stood before me; firmly set, well-proportioned and muscular. The Bourbon type was strongly marked in this member of the family--thick lips, large mouth, high and prominent cheek-bones. He possessed a good brow, betokening intelligence, and sharp, keen, blue eyes that pierced through me.

"Why, monsieur the a.s.sa.s.sin is scarcely more than a boy!" he exclaimed with a sneering laugh.

"I am old enough not to be frightened, even by Louis de Bourbon!" said I, angry at his taunt.

"_Parbleu!_ These are brave words from a prisoner of the Bastille!

The Governor feeds you too well! But come, I have several questions to put. Why did you try to kill me?"

"I did not try, your Highness! At the time of the attack I was a mile away, shut up in a room and well guarded."

"You seem fond of prison," he said, and I felt that he did not believe a word of my story.

"I had no choice in the matter, your Highness."

Conde looked me straight in the face, and I met his gaze without flinching.

"You look like an honest lad," he exclaimed grudgingly, "but the evidence against you is strong. Come, tell me everything, and I will promise you a pardon beforehand. Was it Mazarin who urged you on?"

"I have not heard from the Cardinal for months, monsieur. If the plot was his work, he did not take me into his confidence. But I think, monsieur, that your enemies are nearer home."

"How? No one in Paris but De Retz would plan such a deed."

"The Abbe is a dangerous enemy, your Highness."

"No," said Conde, looking puzzled, "it could not have been De Retz. He and his henchman, De Lalande--your cousin by the way--were with me five minutes after the pistol was fired. I wish you would trust me."

"You will laugh at my suspicions, and the explanation will not benefit me."

"_Ma foi!_ I have learned to consider nothing strange in this citizen squabble. Come, speak as a friend, and I promise on my honour not to repeat your words."

I hardly knew what to do. I had no wish to injure either Henri or Pillot, but on the other hand, my own life was in danger, and finally I resolved to relate the story with as little mention of names as possible.