A Romance of the West Indies Part 31

"Is it so dark that my lord cannot recognize Mirette?" said the well-known voice of Blue Beard.

Croustillac was speechless with astonishment. Blue Beard also called him my lord, and a.s.sumed the name of Mirette! "Zounds!" he said to himself, "I understand nothing, nothing at all; all becomes more and more obscure; all the same, hold steady and play out the game."

"Who is this woman?" said the colonel, in a low tone.

"She is the confidential maid of my wife," responded the chevalier.

Angela spoke: "My lord, I come to say to your grace that my lady retired not feeling very well; but she is asleep now."

"All is in our favor, sir," said the colonel, in a low voice to Croustillac. "Madame the d.u.c.h.ess is asleep; you can depart without her knowing anything about it."

Angela, who had approached, said with a frightened manner, and retreating a few steps, "Heavens! your grace is not alone, then?"

"My lord," said the colonel, "if she gives a cry it is all over with you."

"Do not be afraid, Mirette," said the chevalier; "while you were with my wife this gentleman arrived; he came from Fort Royal on pressing business; it is necessary that I should accompany him back."

"So late, my lord, but you must not think of it! I will go and inform madame."

"No! no! I forbid it; but I shall have need at once of the negro fishermen and their canoe; go and notify them."

"But, my lord----"

"Obey."

"That is not hard; to-morrow morning they fish in the open sea; the negroes must be nearly ready to go; in order to be before dawn at the Creek of Caymans, where their boat is moored."

"My lord, all favors us; you see it; let us go," said the colonel in a low voice.

"It is astonishing how Blue Beard antic.i.p.ates my demands; and how she facilitates my departure," said Croustillac to himself; "there is something very strange under this. I was not, perhaps, altogether wrong in accusing her of magic or necromancy." Then he continued aloud, "You will go and open the outer gates, Mirette, and tell the blacks to prepare themselves at once. Well," said Croustillac, seeing the woman remain motionless, "did you not hear me?"

"Certainly, my lord, but then your grace is determined----"

"'My lord! your grace!' you have repeatedly called me this before a stranger," said the Gascon with a threatening manner, thinking thus to make a master stroke. "What would happen if this gentleman were not in the secret?"

"Oh, I know well that if this stranger is here at this time, it follows that one may speak before him as before your grace and before madame.

But is it possible, my lord, that you intend to go away?"

"The little fox wishes to have the air of detaining me in order to better play her part," thought Croustillac. "But who has informed her?

who has designed this role for her so well? Decidedly, there must be jugglery going on here."

"But, my lord," continued Mirette, "what shall I say to madame?"

"You may say to her," said poor Croustillac, with a tenderness which the colonel attributed to most natural regrets, "you may say to this dear and good woman not to be afraid, do you hear, Mirette? not to be afraid; a.s.sure her that the short journey I am going to take is absolutely in her interest; tell her to think sometimes of me."

"Sometimes, my lord! why madame thinks of you and will think of you always," replied she, in an agitated voice, for she understood the hidden sense of Croustillac's words. "Be easy, my lord, madame knows how you love her, and she never forgets. But you will be here to-morrow, before she awakens, will you not?"

"Yes," said Croustillac, "certainly, to-morrow morning. Come, Mirette, hurry and warn the negro fishermen and open the gates; it is necessary to leave without delay."

"Yes, my lord, and at the same time I will bring your sword and your mantle in the _salon_, because the night is cold in the mountains. Ah! I had forgotten; here is your _bonboniere_ which you carry always with you, and which you left in madame's room." So saying, Angela gave Gascon the box, warmly pressed his hand and left.

"Heaven be praised, my lord duke, that things are turning out better than I hoped," said the colonel. "Is the house very far off?"

"No; after we have climbed this last terrace we shall arrive there."

At the end of several minutes, Rutler and his captive entered the drawing room; the chevalier found Angela, who had put on a large veil and a long cloak which hid her figure; the young woman offered the chevalier a cloak which she had placed on a sofa.

"Here are your cloak and sword, my lord," she said to Croustillac, giving him a magnificent sword. "Now I will go and see if the slaves are ready." So saying she left the room.

The sword of which we have spoken was as rich in workmanship as curious in shape; the hilt was of ma.s.sive gold; the scabbard enameled with the coat of arms of England; the hilt bore on it a rampant lion whose head, surmounted by a royal crown, served as a handle; the belt of great richness, although worn by frequent use, was of red velvet embroidered with fine pearls, in the midst of which the letters "C. S." were reproduced repeatedly.

Before putting on his sword Croustillac said to the colonel, "I am your prisoner, sir; may I retain my sword? I repeat my word not to make any use of it against you."

Doubtless this historic weapon was known to the colonel, for he replied, "I knew that this royal sword was in the hands of your grace; I have been ordered to respect it in case you followed me willingly."

"I understand," said Croustillac to himself. "Blue Beard continues to act with consummate cunning. She has decorated me with a part of the outfit of this mysterious duke, in order to clinch the error of this Flemish bear. My only regret is not knowing my name. I know, it is true, that my head was cut off; that is something; but that is not sufficient to prove my ident.i.ty, as the lawyers say. Finally this will last as long as G.o.d pleases; once I have turned my back, Blue Beard will, doubtless, put her husband in some safe place. That is the princ.i.p.al thing.

Meanwhile, let me put on his cloak and my disguise will be complete."

The mantle was of peculiar cut and was of blue with a kind of cape of red cloth trimmed with gold lace; it was easy to see that it had been in use a long time.

The colonel said to the chevalier, "You are faithful to the memory of the day at Bridgewater, my lord!"

"Hum, hum--faithful--here or there; that depends on the disposition in which I find myself."

"Nevertheless, my lord," returned the colonel, "I recognize the mantle of the red troops who fought so gallantly under your orders on that fatal day."

"That is what I tell you; whether I am cold or warm, I wear this mantle, but it is always in commemoration of that battle, when the red troops, as you say, fought so valiantly under me." The chevalier had placed the snuff box on the table. He took it up and looked at it mechanically; on the cover he recognized a very characteristic face which he had several times seen reproduced in engravings or paintings. After having searched his memory he remembered that the features were those of Charles II. of England.

Rutler said, "My lord, may your grace pardon me for recalling you from thoughts it is easy to divine on seeing the portrait on that box--but time is precious."

Angela entered at this moment and said to Croustillac: "My lord, the negroes are waiting with torches to light the way."

"Let us go, sir," said the chevalier, taking his hat from the hands of the young woman, who said to him in a low voice, "Next to my husband, it is you whom I love most in the world, for you have saved him."

The ma.s.sive doors of Devil's Cliff closed on the chevalier and the colonel, and they at once started on their road, preceded by four blacks carrying torches to light the way.

While the adventurer left Devil's Cliff as Colonel Rutler's prisoner, we will introduce the reader into a secret apartment belonging to Blue Beard.

This was a large room very simply furnished; here and there, hung on the walls, were costly arms. Above a couch was a beautiful portrait of King Charles II. of England; beyond this was a miniature representing a woman of most enchanting beauty. In an ebony frame were many studies in crayon, well designed, and representing always the same people. It was easy to see that they were drawn as portraits from memory. The frame was supported by a kind of stand in chased silver, representing funeral symbols, in the midst of which one might read the date, "July 15, 1685."

This apartment was occupied by a young man in the prime of manhood--large, supple and robust. His n.o.ble proportions recalled vividly the height and figure of Captain Whirlwind, of the buccaneer Rend-your-Soul, or of the Caribbean Youmaale. By coloring the fine features of the man of whom we speak to the copper-colored tint of the mulatto, the ruddy color of the Caribbean, or by half-concealing them under the thick black beard of the buccaneer, one could almost see the three individuals in the same person.

We will here say to the reader, who has doubtless penetrated this mystery, that the disguises of the buccaneer, the filibuster, and the Caribbean, had been successively a.s.sumed by the same man, who was none other than the natural son of Charles II., James, Duke of Monmouth, _executed_ at London, July 15, 1685, as guilty of high treason. All historians agree in saying that this prince was very brave, very affable, and of a very generous nature and a face beautiful and n.o.ble.

"Such was the end of a prince," says Hume, in (speaking of Monmouth) "whose great qualities would have made him an ornament to the court, and who was capable of serving well his country. The tenderness which his father, the king, bore for him; the praises of a large faction and the blind devotion of the populace, drew him into an enterprise beyond his strength. The love of the people followed him in all the vicissitudes of fortune; even after his execution, his followers cherished the belief that they would some day see him at their head."

We will explain later the cause of this singular hope of the prince's adherents, and how Monmouth had, in effect, survived his execution.