Bardelys the Magnificent - Rafael Sabatini (affordable ebook reader .txt) 📗

CHAPTER XIV

EAVESDROPPING

 

I turned it over in my mind, after I had left the King’s presence,

whether or not I should visit with my own hands upon Chatellerault

the punishment he had so fully earned. That I would have gone about

the task rejoicing you may readily imagine; but there was that

accursed wager, and - to restrain me - the thought of how such an

action might be construed into an evasion of its consequences.

Better a thousand times that His Majesty should order his arrest and

deal with him for his attempted perversion of justice to the service

of his own vile ends. The charge of having abused his trust as

King’s commissioner to the extent of seeking to do murder through

the channels of the Tribunal was one that could not fail to have

fatal results for him - as, indeed, the King had sworn.

 

That was the position of affairs as it concerned Chatellerault, the

world, and me. But the position must also be considered as it

concerned Roxalanne, and deeply, indeed, did I so consider it. Much

pondering brought me again to the conclusion that until I had made

the only atonement in my power, the only atonement that would leave

me with clean hands, I must not again approach her.

 

Whether Chatellerault had cheated or not could not affect the

question as it concerned Mademoiselle and me. If I paid the wager

—whether in honour bound to do so or not - I might then go to her,

impoverished, it is true, but at least with no suspicion attaching

to my suit of any ulterior object other than that of winning

Roxalanne herself.

 

I could then make confession, and surely the fact that I had paid

where clearly there was no longer any need to pay must earn me

forgiveness and afford proof of the sincerity of my passion.

 

Upon such a course, then, did I decide, and, with this end in view,

I took my way towards the Auberge Royale, where His Majesty had told

me that the Count was lodged. It was my purpose to show myself

fully aware of the treacherous and unworthy part he had played at

the very inception of the affair, and that if I chose to consider

the wager lost it was that I might the more honestly win the lady.

 

Upon inquiring at the hostelry for Monsieur de Chatellerault I was

informed by the servant I addressed that he was within, but that

at the moment he had a visitor. I replied that I would wait, and

demanded a private room, since I desired to avoid meeting any Court

acquaintances who might chance into the auberge before I had seen

the Count.

 

My apparel at the moment may not have been all that could have been

desired, but when a gentleman’s rearing has taken place amid an

army of servitors to minister to his every wish, he is likely to

have acquired an air that is wont to win him obedience. With all

celerity was I ushered into a small chamber, opening on the one side

upon the common room, and being divided on the other by the thinnest

of wooden partitions from the adjoining apartment.

 

Here, the landlord having left me, I disposed myself to wait, and

here I did a thing I would not have believed myself capable of doing,

a thing I cannot think of without blushing to this very day. In

short, I played the eavesdropper - I, Marcel Saint-Pol de Bardelys.

Yet, if you who read and are nice-minded, shudder at this confession,

or, worse still, shrug your shoulders in contempt, with the

reflection that such former conduct of mine as I have avowed had

already partly disposed you against surprise at this I do but ask

that you measure my sin by my temptation, and think honestly whether

in my position you might not yourselves have fallen. Aye - be you

never so noble and high-principled - I make bold to say that you had

done no less, for the voice that penetrated to my ears was that of

Roxalanne de Lavedan.

 

“I sought an audience with the King,” she was saying, “but I could

not gain his presence. They told me that he was holding no levees,

and that he refused to see any one not introduced by one of those

having the private entree.”

 

“And so,” answered the voice of Chatellerault, in tones that were

perfectly colourless, “you come to me that I may present you

to his Majesty?”

 

“You have guessed it, Monsieur le Comte. You are the only gentleman

of His Majesty’s suite, with whom I can claim acquaintance - however

slight - and, moreover, it is well known how high you stand in his

royal favour. I was told that they that have a boon to crave can

find no better sponsor.”

 

“Had you gone to the King, mademoiselle,” said he, “had you gained

audience, he would have directed you to make your appeal to me. I am

his Commissioner in Languedoc, and the prisoners attainted with high

treason are my property.”

 

“Why then, monsieur,” she cried in an eager voice, that set my pulses

throbbing, “you’ll not deny me the boon I crave? You’ll not deny me

his life?”

 

There was a short laugh from Chatellerault, and I could hear the

deliberate fall of his feet as he paced the chamber.

 

“Mademoiselle, mademoiselle, you must not overrate my powers. You

must not forget that I am the slave of Justice. You may be asking

more than is in my power to grant. What can you advance to show

that I should be justified in proceeding as you wish?”

 

“Helas, monsieur, I can advance nothing but my prayers and the

assurance that a hideous mistake is being made.”

 

“What is your interest in this Monsieur de Lesperon?”

 

“He is not Monsieur de Lesperon,” she cried.

 

“But, since you cannot tell me who he is, you must be content that

we speak of him at least as Lesperon,” said he, and I could imagine

the evil grin with which he would accompany the words.

 

The better that you may appreciate that which followed, let me here

impart to you the suspicions which were already sinking into my mind,

to be changed later into absolute convictions touching the course

the Count intended to pursue concerning me. The sudden arrival of

the King had thrown him into some measure of panic, and no longer

daring to carry out his plans concerning me, it was his object, I

made no doubt, to set me at liberty that very evening. Ere he did

so, however, and presuming upon my ignorance of His Majesty’s

presence in Toulouse, Chatellerault would of a certainty have bound

me down by solemn promise - making that promise the price of my

liberty and my life - to breathe no word of my captivity and trial.

No doubt, his cunning brain would have advanced me plausible and

convincing reasons so to engage myself.

 

He had not calculated upon Castelroux, nor that the King should

already have heard of my detention. Now that Roxalanne came to

entreat him to do that which already he saw himself forced to do,

he turned his attention to the profit that he might derive from her

interestedness on my behalf. I could guess also something of the

jealous rage that must fill him at this signal proof of my success

with her, and already I anticipated, I think, the bargain that he

would drive.

 

“Tell me, then,” he was repeating, “what is your interest in this

gentleman?”

 

There was a silence. I could imagine her gentle face clouded with

the trouble that sprang from devising an’ answer to that question;

I could picture her innocent eyes cast down, her delicate cheeks

pinked by some measure of shame, as at last, in a low, stifled

voice, the four words broke from her “I love him, monsieur.”

 

Ah, Dieu! To hear her confess it so! If yesternight it had stirred

me to the very depths of my poor, sinful soul to have her say so

much to me, how infinitely more did it not affect me to overhear

this frank avowal of it to another! And to think that she was

undergoing all this to the end that she might save me!

 

From Chatellerault there came an impatient snort in answer, and his

feet again smote the floor as he resumed the pacing that for

a moment he had suspended. Then followed a pause, a long silence,

broken only by the Count’s restless walking to and fro. At last

“Why are you silent, monsieur?” she asked in a trembling voice.

 

“Helas, mademoiselle, I can do nothing. I had feared that it might

be thus with you; and, if I put the question, it was in the hope

that I was wrong.”

 

“But he, monsieur?” she exclaimed in anguish. “What of him?”

 

“Believe me, mademoiselle, if it lay in my power I would save him

were he never so guilty, if only that I might spare you sorrow.”

 

He spoke with tender regret, foul hypocrite that he was!

 

“Oh, no, no!” she cried, and her voice was of horror and despair.

“You do not mean that - ” She stopped short; and then, after a

pause, it was the Count who finished the sentence for her.

 

“I mean, mademoiselle, that this Lesperon must die!”

 

You will marvel that I let her suffer so, that I did not break down

the partition with my hands and strike that supple gentleman dead at

her feet in atonement for the anguish he was causing her. But I had

a mind to see how far he would drive this game he was engaged upon.

 

Again there was a spell of silence, and at last, when Mademoiselle

spoke, I was amazed at the calm voice in which she addressed him,

marvelling at the strength and courage of one so frail and childlike

to behold.

 

“Is your determination, indeed, irrevocable, monsieur? If you have

any pity, will you not at least let me bear my prayers and my tears

to the King?”

 

“It would avail you nothing. As I have said, the Languedoc rebels

are in my hands.” He paused as if