The Grey Cloak Part 22

"It is your imagination, dear. My philosophy has healed the wounded vanity. Point out the Chevalier to me, I should like to see the man who declined an alliance with the house of Montbazon."

"I thought that you possessed a miniature of him?"

"It contained only the face of a boy; I want to see the man. Besides, I do not exactly know what has become of the picture, which was badly painted."

"I will point him out. Was the Comte d'Herouville among the conspirators?"

"Yes. How I hate that man!"

"Keep out of his path, Gabrielle. He would stop at nothing. There is madness in that man's veins."

"I do not fear him. Many a day will pa.s.s ere I see him again, or poor Victor, for that matter. I wonder where he has gone?"

"I would I could fathom that heart of yours."

"It is very light and free just now."

"Am I your confidante in all things?"

"I believe so."

"The year I lived with you at the hotel taught me that you are like sand; a great many strange things going on below."

"What a compliment! But give up trying to fathom me, Anne. I love you better when you laugh. Must you be a nun, you who were once so gay?"

"I am weary."

"Of what? You ask me if I am your confidante in all things; Anne, are you mine?"

No answer.

"So. Well, I shall not question you." The speaker drew her companion closer and retucked the robes; and silence fell upon the two, silence broken only by the wind, the flapping leather curtains, and the m.u.f.fled howling of the postilion.

It was twelve o'clock when the diligence drew up before the Corne d'Abondance. The host came out, holding a candle above his head and shading his eyes with his unengaged hand.

"Maitre, I have brought you two guests," said the postilion, sliding off his horse and grunting with satisfaction.

"Gentlemen, I hope."

"Ladies!" and lowering his voice, the postilion added: "Ladies of high degree, I can tell you. One is the granddaughter of an admiral and the other can not be less than a d.u.c.h.ess."

"Ladies? Oh, that is most unfortunate! The ladies' chamber is all upset, and every other room is engaged. They will be compelled to wait fully an hour."

"That will not inconvenience us, Monsieur," said a voice from the window of the diligence, "provided we may have something hot to drink; wines and hot water, with a dash of sugar and brandy. Come, my dear; and don't forget your mask."

"How disappointing that the hotel was closed! Well, we can put up with the tavern till morning."

With some difficulty the two women alighted and entered the common a.s.sembly room, followed by the postilion who staggered under bulky portmanteaus. They approached the fire unconcernedly, ignoring the attention which their entrance aroused. The youngest gave a slight scream as the Iroquois rose abruptly and moved away from the chimney.

"Holy Virgin!" Anne cried, clutching Gabrielle's arm; "it is an Indian!" The vision of quiet in a Quebec convent grew vague.

"Hush! he would not be here if he were dangerous." Gabrielle turned her grey-masked face toward the fire and rested a hand on the broad mantel.

Victor, who had taken a table which sat in the shadow and who was trying by the aid of champagne to forget the tragic scene of the hour gone, came near to wasting a gla.s.s of that divine nectar of Nepenthe.

He brushed his eyes and held a palm to his ear. "That voice!" he murmured. "It is not possible!"

At this same moment the vicomte turned his head, his face describing an expression of doubt and astonishment. He was like a man trying to recollect the sound of a forgotten voice, a melody. He stared at the two figures, the one of medium height, slender and elegant, the other plump and small, at the grey mask and then at the black. These were not masks of coquetry and larking, masks which begin at the brow and end at the lips: they were curtained. Seized, by an impulse, occult or mechanic, the vicomte rose and drew near. The younger woman made a gesture. Was it of recognition? The vicomte could not say. But he saw her lean toward her companion, whisper a word which caused the grey mask to wheel quickly. She seemed to grow taller, while a repelling light flashed from the eyeholes of the grey mask.

"Mesdames," said the vicomte with elaborate courtesy, "the sight of the Indian doubtless alarms you, but he is perfectly harmless. Permit a gentleman to offer his services to two ladies who appear to be traveling alone."

Father Chaumonot frowned from his chair and would have risen but for the restraining hand of Bouchard, who, like all seamen, was fond of gallantry.

"Monsieur," replied the black mask, coldly and impudently, "we are indeed alone; and upon the strength of this a.s.sertion, will you not resume your conversation with yonder gentlemen and allow my companion and myself to continue ours?"

"Mademoiselle," said the vicomte eagerly, "I swear to you, that your voice is familiar to my ears." He addressed the black mask, but he looked searchingly at the grey. His reward was small. She maintained under his scrutiny an icy, motionless dignity.

"And permit me to say," returned the black mask, "that while your voice is not familiar, the tone is, and very displeasing to my ears. And if you do not at once resume your seat, I shall be forced to ask aid of yonder priest."

"Yes, yes! that voice I have heard before!" Then, quick as a flash, he had plucked the strings of her mask, disclosing a round, piquant face, now white with fury.

"Oh, Monsieur!" she cried; "if I were a man!"

"This grows interesting," whispered Bouchard to Du Puys.

"Anne de Vaudemont?" exclaimed the vicomte; "in Roch.e.l.le?" The vicomte stepped back confused. He stared undecidedly at mademoiselle's companion. She deliberately turned her back.

Victor was upon his feet, and his bottle of wine lay frothing on the floor. He came forward.

"Vicomte, your actions are very disagreeable to me," he said. The end of his scabbard was aggressively high in the air. He was not so tall a man as the vicomte, but his shoulders were as broad and his chest as deep.

Neither the vicomte nor the poet heard the surprised exclamation which came with a m.u.f.fled sound from behind the grey mask. She swayed slightly. The younger threw her arms around her, but never took her eyes from the flushed countenance of Victor de Saumaise.

"Indeed!" replied the vicomte coolly; "and how do you account for that?" He spoke with that good nature which deceives only those who are not banterers themselves.

"It is not necessary to particularize," proudly, "to a gentleman of your wide accomplishments."

"Monsieur de Saumaise, your servant," said the vicomte. "Ladies, I beg of you to accept my apologies. I admit the extent of my rudeness, Mademoiselle." He bowed and turned away, leaving Victor puzzled and diffident.

"Mademoiselle de Vaudemont," he said, "is it possible that I see you here in Roch.e.l.le?" How his heart beat at the sight of that figure standing by the mantel.

"And you, Monsieur; what are you doing here?"

"I am contemplating a journey to Spain," carelessly.

"Success to your journey," said Anne, frankly holding out a hand. But she was visibly distressed as she glanced at her companion. "Is the Vicomte d'Halluys going to Spain also?" smiling.

Victor shrugged. "He professes to have business in Quebec. That beautiful Paris has grown so unhealthy!"