A Gentleman of France: Being the Memoirs of Gaston de Bonne Sieur de Marsac by - (e reader for manga txt) 📗

which glittered like a madman’s. He tried to speak, but seemed to find a difficulty in doing so; and I had to question him roughly before he found his tongue. When he did speak, it was only to implore me in an odd, excited manner to give up the expedition and return.

‘What, now?’ I said, surprised. ‘Now we are here, Fresnoy?’

‘Ay, give it up!’ he cried, shaking me almost fiercely by the arm. ‘Give it up, man! It will end badly, I tell you! In God’s name, give it up, and go home before worse comes of it.’

‘Whatever comes of it,’ I answered coldly, shaking his grasp from my arm, and wondering much at this sudden fit of cowardice, ‘I go on. You, M. Fresnoy, may do as you please!’

He started and drew back from me; but he did not reply, nor did he speak again. When I presently went off to fetch a ladder, of the position of which I had made a note during the afternoon, he accompanied me, and followed me back in the same dull silence to the walk below the balcony. I had looked more than once and eagerly at mademoiselle’s window without any light or movement in that quarter rewarding my vigilance; but, undeterred by this, which might mean either that my plot was known, or that Mademoiselle de la Vire distrusted me, I set the ladder softly against the balcony, which was in deep shadow, and paused only to give Fresnoy his last instructions. These were simply to stand on guard at the foot of the ladder and defend it in case of surprise; so that, whatever happened inside the chateau, my retreat by the window might not be cut off.

Then I went cautiously up the ladder, and, with my sheathed sword in my left hand, stepped over the balustrade. Taking one pace forward, with fingers outstretched, I felt the leaded panes of the window and tapped softly.

As softly the casement gave way, and I followed it. A hand which I could see but not feel was laid on mine. All was darkness in the room, and before me, but the hand guided me two paces forward, then by a sudden pressure bade me stand. I heard the sound of a curtain being drawn behind me, and the next moment the cover of a rushlight was removed, and a feeble but sufficient light filled the chamber.

I comprehended that the drawing of that curtain over the window had cut off my retreat as effectually as if a door had been closed behind me. But distrust and suspicion gave way the next moment to the natural embarrassment of the man who finds himself in a false position and knows he can escape from it only by an awkward explanation.

The room in which I found myself was long, narrow, and low in the ceiling; and being hung with some dark stuff which swallowed up the light, terminated funereally at the farther end in the still deeper gloom of an alcove. Two or three huge chests, one bearing the remnants of a meal, stood against the walls. The middle of the floor was covered with a strip of coarse matting, on which a small table, a chair and foot-rest, and a couple of stools had place, with some smaller articles which lay scattered round a pair of half-filled saddle-bags. The slighter and smaller of the two figures I had seen stood beside the table, wearing a mask and riding cloak; and by her silent manner of gazing at me, as well as by a cold, disdainful bearing, which neither her mask nor cloak could hide, did more to chill and discomfit me than even my own knowledge that I had lost the pass-key which should have admitted me to her confidence.

The stouter figure of the afternoon turned out to be a red-cheeked, sturdy woman of thirty, with bright black eyes and a manner which lost nothing of its fierce impatience when she came a little later to address me. All my ideas of Fanchette were upset by the appearance of this woman, who, rustic in her speech and ways, seemed more like a duenna, than the waiting-maid of a court beauty, and better fitted to guard a wayward damsel than to aid her in such an escapade as we had in hand.

She stood slightly behind her mistress, her coarse red hand resting on the back of the chair from which mademoiselle had apparently risen on my entrance. For a few seconds, which seemed minutes to me, we stood gazing at one another in silence, mademoiselle acknowledging my bow by a slight movement of the head. Then, seeing that they waited for me to speak, I did so.

‘Mademoiselle de la Vire?’ I murmured doubtfully.

She bent her head again; that was all.

I strove to speak with confidence. ‘You will pardon me, mademoiselle,’ I said, ‘if I seem to be abrupt, but time is everything. The horses are standing within a hundred yards of the house, and all the preparations for your flight are made. If we leave now, we can do so without opposition. The delay even of an hour may lead to discovery.’

For answer she laughed behind her mask-laughed coldly and ironically. ‘You go too fast, sir,’ she said, her low clear voice matching the laugh and rousing a feeling almost of anger in my heart. ‘I do not know you; or, rather, I know nothing of you which should entitle you to interfere in my affairs. You are too quick to presume, sir. You say you come from a friend. From whom?’

‘From one whom I am proud to call by that title,’ I answered with what patience I might.

‘His name!’

I answered firmly that I could not give it. And I eyed her steadily as I did so.

This for the moment seemed to baffle and confuse her, but after a pause she continued: ‘Where do you propose to take me, sir?’

‘To Blois; to the lodging of a friend of my friend.’

‘You speak bravely,’ she replied with a faint sneer. ‘You have made some great friends lately it seems! But you bring me some letter, no doubt; at least some sign, some token, some warranty, that you are the person you pretend to be, M. de Marsac?’

‘The truth is, Mademoiselle,’ I stammered, ‘I must explain. I should tell you—’

‘Nay, sir,’ she cried impetuously, ‘there is no need of telling. If you have what I say, show it me! It is you who lose time. Let us have no more words!’

I had used very few words, and, God knows, was not in the mind to use many; but, being in the wrong, I had no answer to make except the truth, and that humbly. ‘I had such a token as you mention, mademoiselle,’ I said, ‘no farther back than this afternoon, in the shape of half a gold coin, entrusted to me by my friend. But, to my shame I say it, it was stolen from me a few hours back.’

‘Stolen from you!’ she exclaimed.

‘Yes, mademoiselle; and for that reason I cannot show it,’ I answered.

‘You cannot show it? And you dare to come to me without it!’ she cried, speaking with a vehemence which fairly startled me, prepared as I was for reproaches. You come to me! You!’ she continued. And with that, scarcely stopping