Vayenne Part 37

"Have I? I believed in a woman's trust, and I have awakened from a dream. I will trouble you no more. The times demand the Duke; Roger Herrick ceases to exist. The Duke lives to hold Montvilliers against her enemies. Roger Herrick was a poor fool who loved and trusted you, mademoiselle."

He turned, and left her, the door closing heavily behind him. For a moment Christine stood where she was, angry, defiant, then she sank into a chair, and sobbed. Wounded pride, disappointment, loneliness, and love were in her tears.

"If he were only Roger Herrick and no Duke," she said, "I could have loved, I would have done all that he-- But he shall suffer. I have power, and right is on my side. He has defied the law, why should not I? The people would make me d.u.c.h.ess. Why should I not wear the crown?"

And then she rose quickly, stepping back into the shadows, as the door opened again. She thought Herrick was returning, and she would not have him see her tears. It was not Herrick, it was Father Bertrand.

"Did your master send you to me?" she asked.

"Mademoiselle, I have no masters but the Church and my conscience."

She laughed, dashing the last tears from her eyes.

"The Duke you have helped to make should reward you well."

"Even a priest may be mistaken, mademoiselle," Father Bertrand said slowly. "I came to talk to you about the Duke. Already they do not love him in Vayenne."

"And you, father?"

The priest went to the door, opened it quickly to surprise any listener there might be, then closed it again, and stepped to Christine's side.

"His friends were chiefly his friends because of you, mademoiselle.

They thought you believed in Roger Herrick, that he had your support.

At your word Vayenne would rise to-morrow."

Christine did not answer for a moment. Her power suddenly frightened her. Then she said slowly:

"I will listen attentively to all you have to say, Father Bertrand.

You find me a prisoner and in the mood to be rebellious."

And the room grew dark as the priest talked, yet she did not call for lights.

CHAPTER XX

FATHER BERTRAND JUSTIFIES HIMSELF

Even the busier streets of Vayenne were quieter now after nightfall than they were wont to be. Those who were abroad went quickly and direct to their destination, for to loiter, or appear to have no particular object in view, was to be suspected. The new Duke was ruling the city with a heavy hand, and those who pa.s.sed in and out of the gates were closely questioned. A few there were who approved this caution; it was temporary only, and justified by the rumors of disturbance on the frontier; but others, and they were the majority, were discontented and sullen. Had they not helped to place a tyrant at the head of the state? Would there have been any trouble on the frontier if Count Felix had become their Duke?

Few people pa.s.sed along the dimly lighted Rue St. Romain even in the daytime, and at night it was practically deserted. Those who went to visit Father Bertrand were fewer now than formerly. He was heart and soul for Duke Roger, had evidently been privy to the sudden and unexpected claim to the throne, and many began to mistrust him. They waited, expecting to hear that great honors had been showered upon him for his services. He was surely a politician seeking place and power rather than a priest.

Father Bertrand sat at his table in the well-appointed room where he had received Herrick. He was busy with his papers, some of which required careful study and deciphering, for to the casual reader they would have been meaningless. Opposite to him sat Mercier, watching him and waiting for him to speak.

"He who plots sets out on a th.o.r.n.y path," said the priest presently, looking suddenly at his companion.

"He turns enemies into distrustful friends, and his friends into bitter enemies. I sometimes wish I could steal quietly out of Vayenne in the night, and never return."

"Have you bad news there, father?" Mercier asked, pointing to the papers.

"No. On paper all is plausible and easy, but few know the resource of the man we have to reckon with. The Duke is a strong man, Mercier, a worthy successor to the old Duke. I thought to smooth my road when I helped to raise him to the throne; I have instead set a thousand new difficulties in the way."

"The hand that made can unmake, and surely the people----"

"Hist!" said Father Bertrand sharply, as he raised a warning finger.

There were steps in the pa.s.sage without, and then, after a knock and a pause, the door was thrown open, and a man and woman, closely m.u.f.fled up, entered the room.

The priest rose to welcome them, and Mercier drew chairs to the table for them.

"You came through the city safely?" said Father Bertrand.

"Ay; hurrying like a couple of bourgeois bent on doing their marketing cheaply and expeditiously," said Count Felix, undoing his cloak; and turning to his companion, he helped her to loosen her wraps. It was the Countess Elisabeth.

"Since you came to the Place Beauvoisin the other night you have been constantly in my thoughts, Father Bertrand," Felix went on. "Your reason for supporting this traitor puzzles me more and more."

"And why do you now plot against him?" said the Countess. It was clear that she distrusted the priest. It was her love for Felix which had brought her to the Rue St. Romain to-night. If treachery were intended she would be there to defend him or die with him.

The priest had not expected to see her, but he did not show his surprise in any way. He knew that the Count was everything to her, knew that she was prepared to make any sacrifice for him. There was no danger in her presence; indeed, she might prove a useful tool ready to his hand.

"Are we not here to talk of the future rather than the past?" he said.

"If I must defend myself," and he turned to the Countess, "it must be remembered that I was not in Count Felix's confidence. Had I known everything, I might have acted differently."

"We will not quarrel, father," Felix returned. "The past is past for all of us, and many a man's future has served to obliterate the past from the remembrance of his generation. You shall not find us ungrateful."

"To obliterate the past we all have to make sacrifices," answered the priest.

Again there were heavy steps in the pa.s.sage, and after a knock and a pause the door was opened, and Gerard de Bornais entered. He too had been closely m.u.f.fled up, but had unfastened his cloak on his way to the room. It seemed certain that he knew who he was to meet there. He saluted Felix and bowed to the Countess. Father Bertrand welcomed him with cordiality, and himself drew forward a chair to the table for his guest.

"We meet again under strange circ.u.mstances," said Felix.

"We live in strange times, Count," answered de Bornais. "Shall we listen to Father Bertrand? Under certain conditions we are likely to be no longer enemies. Who is that man, father?" he asked shortly, looking at Mercier.

"One we can trust; a useful amba.s.sador who is with us to the death."

And then as the Countess shuddered a little, he added: "I speak of possibilities and probabilities, madame, but when we defy a strong and determined enemy there are always contingencies, and death is one of them."

"True; and time presses, father," said de Bornais, and there was an authority in his tone which caused Felix to set his teeth firmly together. He could not afford to speak as he would.

"Twice lately I have seen Mademoiselle de Liancourt," the priest began, leaning back in his chair, "and, as we know now, she does not recognize the claim of this Roger Herrick to the throne. In helping him we were under the impression that he had her support."

He looked at de Bornais, who nodded.

"Now Roger Herrick's claim is a valid one, since the descent of the late Duke is open to question, and that under certain conditions the heir in the female line can inherit. Mademoiselle de Liancourt maintains, however, that her uncle's claim was a just one, that having deposed an incompetent ruler, he was Duke by his birthright, besides which he ascended the throne by the people's will. Therefore his son, or, failing him, Count Felix, is the rightful heir. But Mademoiselle goes further than this. Roger Herrick, she argues, is an alien, an Englishman, and that any claim he may have is annulled by this fact.

In this argument she is likely to have the ear of the people, for it is obvious, with an Englishman on the throne, England may at any time become the overlord of Montvilliers."

"If this fellow has any right, which I do not admit, Christine's argument is an excellent one," said Felix.