The Heart of Denise and Other Tales Part 10

"Well done, de Rosny, my squire of dames. _Pardieu!_ We have the whole hive--Queen-Bee and all."

"By G.o.d!" said another, "they will hang from the rafters in a half-hour, then--my poor Ganache!" And the speaker, whose rough, harsh voice was as pitiless as his speech, swore a bitter oath. "Gently, Tremblecourt," replied the one who had been called de Rosny; "our poor de Ganache's soul has not flown so far but that the others can overtake it in time." And then de Clermont came up to me, but as he pa.s.sed la Coquille in so doing, the latter strained at his cords, and hissed rather than spoke out the word "Traitor!" as he spat at him.

"You hang in a little time head downwards at de Lorgnac's feet for that," said de Clermont calmly, and then turning to me, "'Tis a sad business this, madame; but war is war, and after all things are going as you would have them, are they not?"

I could not bear to meet that sneering, beautiful face, which, now that its mask was s.n.a.t.c.hed away, cared not in how evil an aspect it showed itself. Words would not come to me, and as I stood there before de Clermont, quivering in every limb at the awful threat conveyed in his speech to la Coquille, de Tremblecourt's voice rang out again, mad and broken with rage:

"Away with them! Sling them from the parapet--now!"

The men around rushed with a yell at la Coquille and his fellow-prisoners--G.o.d pardon those who cause the horrors of war--but my defender, de Rosny, again interposed, and drove them back, despite de Tremblecourt's angry protests, whilst de Clermont stayed his rage with a quiet:

"Be still, Tremblecourt. The King will be here in ten minutes with our other prisoner, and we will deal with Messieurs--in a bunch," and he glanced at me with a meaning in his eyes that I read as an open page.

"Come, madame," said de Rosny, who saw my pallor, "let me take you out of this. I pledge the word of Bethune that no harm will touch you; but that is to happen, I fear, which is not fit for you to see." With these words he took my arm kindly and led me inside, unresisting and as in a dream. In the hall where we stopped I forced myself to regain some courage. It was no time for a faint heart.

"Monsieur! What does this all mean? What is to happen to de Lorgnac?

Tell me--I am his wife, monsieur."

He bowed gravely yet sadly. "The King of Navarre is generous, madame.

Henri will be here soon, and all may yet be well. In the meantime rest you here, and compose yourself--you are safe from harm."

With this, he, who was in after years to be the first man in France, left me almost stunned and broken by what I had heard. Now that I was about to lose him--nay, had already lost him, for nothing, I felt sure, would move these pitiless hearts--I realized to the end what de Lorgnac was to me, and with this came the dreadful conviction that it was I, and I alone, who had brought this on my husband. I, a fool in my folly, who did not know my own heart, I who with a word might have stayed and kept him who was all in all to me, had driven him forth with my senseless pride to death. I could do nothing to save him. What could a woman do against these men? And then it was as if the whole horror that was to be pictured itself before my eyes, and a mocking fiend gibed in whispers in my ears, "You, you have done this!" Almost with a cry I sprang from my seat, my hand on my forehead and an unspoken prayer on my lips. I felt that my brain was giving way, and that I must do something to regain myself and think. This was no time for aught but action, and here I was giving way utterly. I might do something--surely my woman's wit could suggest some means of saving my husband? Then what happens to those who are face to face with an awful terror happened to me, and, as once before, I fell on my knees before G.o.d's Throne, and prayed in a mortal agony. "G.o.d help me in my distress!" I called out aloud, and a quiet voice answered:

"Perhaps He has sent the help, Denise."

I sprang up with a start, a wild hope rushing through my heart, and saw Raoul de Clermont before me, with the sneering hardness out of his face and all the old soft light in his eyes. If it was so--if he but bore me the glad tidings his words hinted at--I could forgive him all, and be his friend forever.

"Say that again, monsieur," I gasped; "say it again and I will bless you to my last breath." And as I spoke the heavy folds of the curtain that covered the doorway moved as if stirred by a wind.

"I said that perhaps G.o.d"--and he bowed reverently--ah! devil and traitor!--"that perhaps G.o.d has answered your prayer. You have asked for help, and it has come. I am here to offer it. I, and I alone, can save de Lorgnac, by force if necessary, for I have fifty lances at my heels, and it rests with you to say the word. I have been mad, Denise; then I came to my senses; and now I am mad again. I love you--do you hear? Love you as man never loved woman. You beautiful thing of ice!

Come with me, and de Lorgnac is free. Come!"

In his eagerness he put forth his hand towards me, but with a shudder I drew back and his face darkened. Then nerving myself, I made one last appeal.

"Raoul de Clermont, I believed you once to be a man of honour. Let me think so again; give me the chance. Be merciful for once. Save my husband as you say you can. See, it is a wife who pleads. Man! There must be some spark of knighthood in you to fire your soul! You are brave, I know. Can you not be generous and pitiful? You have tried to kill my soul. Monsieur, I will forget that--I will forget the past, and thank you forever if you do this. Save him, for I love him!"

"Love him!"

"Yes, love him as he deserves to be loved, and by a better woman. De Clermont, be true to yourself."

His breath came thick and fast, and then he spoke with an effort:

"You ask too much, Denise. I have offered you my terms. I give you five minutes to say yes or no, and I will take your answer as final.

G.o.d is answering your prayer in His own way," he went on, with the shadow of a sneer once more across his lips.

"He mostly does," came the reply, as the curtain was lifted and de Rosny stepped in, calling out as he entered, "Madame, the King!"

Then there was a tramp of spurred boots, the clashing of steel scabbards, the waving of plumes, and ere I knew it I was at the feet of the Bourbon, sobbing out my prayer for mercy.

He raised me gently--there was no more knightly heart than his.

"Madame! It is not enemies that Henri de Bourbon needs, but friends.

It is not sorrow his presence would cause, but joy. There has been enough blood shed already in this miserable affair, and--I think it is my good de Rosny here who antic.i.p.ated me--all our prisoners are free, but there is some one here who will tell you the rest himself better than the Bearnnois can." And, putting a kind hand on my shoulder, he faced me round to meet the eyes of de Lorgnac.

"I have come back unasked, Denise," he said; but I could make no answer, and then he took me in his arms and kissed me before them all.

"A wedding present to the happy pair!" and something struck me lightly on the shoulder and fell at my feet. It was the glove that de Clermont had s.n.a.t.c.hed from me on the day of my marriage. "I return a present from madame, given to me on her wedding day. It is no longer of use to me--Monsieur le Chevalier, will you not take it?" and de Clermont was before us, the same awful look in his eyes that I had seen there when he played with death before de Norreys.

De Lorgnac's arm dropped from my waist, and his bronzed face paled as he stood as if petrified, looking at the soft white glove at my feet.

Then with a voice as hard and stern as his look he turned to me, and pointing to the glove, said:

"Is this true, madame?"

"It is my glove," was all I could say.

"And permit me to restore it to you," cut in the King, and with a movement he lifted the glove and placed it in my husband's hand. "Give it to her back, man! Madame de Canillac was at your wedding, and my good Margot who writes me such clever letters, and they have both told me the story of your marriage, and the incident of the glove. They both saw it s.n.a.t.c.hed from your wife's hand by M. le Marquis--Ventre St. Gris! For once I think a woman's gossip has done some good--and on the word of Navarre what I say is true. As for you, monsieur," and Henri turned to de Clermont, "Monsieur de Rosny here has my commands for you, and your further presence is excused."

My husband's arm was round my waist once more; but de Clermont made no movement to go, standing quietly twisting his short blonde moustache.

"Monsieur, you have heard his Majesty," put in de Rosny.

"Yes--I thought, however, that Monsieur de Lorgnac might have a word to say ere I went."

"That will be in another place, and over our crossed swords, Monsieur le Marquis," replied my husband, heedless of my entreating look and gesture, and in as cold and measured a voice as de Clermont's.

"I am at your service, monsieur, when and wherever you please," and with this, and a formal bow to the King, he pa.s.sed from the room--a man under G.o.d's right arm of justice.

What happened I never was able to find out exactly; but as far as I could gather it was this. As already mentioned, la Coquille, Lalande, and Pierre had been released by Navarre on his coming, and the former being faint from his wounds was resting on a wooden bench in the courtyard. As de Clermont pa.s.sed, the sight of la Coquille and the memory of the insult he had put on him roused the haughty n.o.ble, already in a white heat with rage, to madness, and he struck the freelance once, twice, across the face with a light cane he bore in his hand, and fell a moment after stabbed to the heart, his murderer being cut down by the men-at-arms.

At once all was hurry and confusion. The dying man was borne in as gently as he could be, and placed on a settle. There was no leech in hand, and long before the priest of Lorgnac came it was all over. We did what we could, and in the horror of the fate that had overtaken this man in the pride of strength I forgot the past utterly. I could only see a terrible suffering for which there was no relief. We gathered, an awestruck group, around him, and he spoke no word at first, but suddenly called out, "Hold me up--I choke!"

Some one--I afterwards found it was Tremblecourt--raised him slightly and he spoke again, "De Lorgnac! Say what you have to say now, I'm going."

And Blaise de Lorgnac knelt by the couch, saying as he did so:

"I have no message now--forget my words, de Clermont."

"Would to G.o.d I had died by your hand," came the answer, "but to go like this--struck down like a dog. Your hand, de Lorgnac--yours, Denise--quick--I am going. Forgive."

De Tremblecourt laid him softly back on the cushion, and my tears fell fast on the cold hand I held in mine. Who could remember wrongs at such a moment?

The King bent over him and whispered in his ear. I thought I heard the word "pray," and a wan smile played on the lips of the dying man.

"Too late--I cannot cringe now. Ah! Norreys! I will join you soon.

Denise--pardon," and he was gone.