The Grey Cloak - Harold MacGrath (smallest ebook reader .txt) 📗

in this instance."

"A puppet? Explain."

"There was another who prompted him from behind."

"Who?" sharply.

"I am afraid that at present I can not name him."

"D'Hérouville? Be careful, Monsieur; this is a grave accusation you are making. You will be forced to prove it." The governor looked worried; for to him the Comte d'Hérouville was a great noble.

"I did not name him. There was a woman behind all this; a woman who is the innocent cause."

"Ha! a woman?" The governor leaned forward on his elbows.

"Yes."

"Who?"

"Mademoiselle de Longueville. D'Hérouville insulted her and the Chevalier took up her cause."

"Why, then, did you not pick your quarrel with the count?"

"The vicomte had some prior claim."

The governor got up and walked about, biting his mustache. Victor eyed him with some anxiety.

"But the Chevalier; why did he not defend himself?"

Victor breathed impatiently. "Frankly, Monsieur, how can he defend himself?"

"True." The governor scrubbed his beard. He was in a quandary and knew not which way to move. Tardy decision was the stumbling-block in the path of this well meaning man. Problems irritated him; and in his secret heart he wished he had never seen the Chevalier, D'Hérouville, the poet, or the vicomte, since they upset his quiet. He had enough to do with public affairs without having private ones thrust gratuitously upon his care. "Well, well," he said, reseating himself; "you know my wishes. Nothing but publicity will come of duels and brawls, and publicity is the last thing the Chevalier is seeking. I feel genuinely sorry for him. The stain on his name does not prevent him from being a brave man and a gentleman. Control yourself, Monsieur de Saumaise, and the day will come when you will thank me for the advice. As you have no incentive for running away, I will put you on your word, and the vicomte also. You may go. While I admire the spirit which led you to take up the Chevalier's cause, I deplore it. Who, then, will succeed Monsieur le Marquis?"

"That is a question I can not answer. To the best of my knowledge, no one will succeed Monsieur le Marquis de Périgny."

"So this is what brought him over here? What brought you?"

"Friendship for him, an empty purse and a pocketful of ambition."

The answer pleased De Lauson, and he nodded. "That is all."

"Thank you, Monsieur."

"I shall keep you in mind . . . if you escape the gibbet."

Monsieur de Saumaise, in displaying his teeth, signified that the least of his worries was the thought of the gibbet.

And so concluded the interview.

The Chevalier remained in his room all day, putting aside his food, and staring beyond the river. His eyes were dull and the lids discolored from sleeplessness. Victor waited for him to heap reproach upon him; but never a word did the Chevalier utter. The only sign he gave of the volcano raging and burning beneath the thin mask of calm was the ceaseless knotting of the muscles of the jaw and the compressed lips. When the poet broke forth, reviling his own conduct, the Chevalier silenced him with a gesture of the hand.

"You are wasting your breath. What you have done can not be undone." The tones of his voice were all on a dull level, cold and unimpassioned.

Victor was struck with admiration at the sight of such extraordinary control; and he trembled to think of the whirlwind which would some day be let loose.

"I will kill De Leviston the first opportunity," he said.

The Chevalier arose. "No, lad; the man who told him. He is mine!"

Victor sought out Brother Jacques for advice; but Brother Jacques's advice was similar to the Chevalier's and the governors.

So the day wore on into evening, and only then did the Chevalier venture forth. He wandered aimlessly about the ramparts, alone, having declined Victor's company, and avoiding all whom he saw. He wanted to be alone, alone, forever alone. Longingly he gazed toward the blackening forests. Yonder was a haven. Into those shadowy woods he might plunge and hide himself, built him a hut, and become lost to civilization, his name forgotten and his name forgetting. O fool in wine that he had been! To cut himself off from the joys and haunts of men in a moment of drunken insanity! He had driven the marquis with taunts and gibes; he had shouted his ignoble birth across a table; and he expected, by coming to this wilderness, to lose the Nemesis he himself had set upon his heels! What a fool! What a fool! He had cast out his heart for the rooks and the daws. Wherever he might go, the world would go also, and the covert smile . . . and the covert smile . . . God, how apart from all mankind he seemed this night. But for Victor he would have sought the woods at once, facing the Iroquois fearlessly. He must remain, to bow his head before the glances of the curious, the head that once was held so high; accept rebuffs without murmur, stand aside, step down, and follow. If a man laughed at him, he must turn away: his sword could no longer protect him. How his lips thirsted for the wine-cup, for one mad night, and then . . . oblivion! An outcast! What would be his end? O the long years! For him there should be no wifely lips to kiss away the penciled lines of care; the happy voices of children would never make music in his ears. He was alone, always and ever alone!

Presently the Chevalier bowed his head upon the cold iron of the cannon. The crimson west grew fainter and fainter; and the evening breeze came up and stirred the Company's flags on the warehouses far below.

Suddenly the Chevalier lifted his head. He was still an officer and a gentleman. He would stand taller, look into each eye and dare with his own. It was not what he had been, nor what had been done to him; it was what he was, would be and do. If every hand was to be against his, so be it. D'Hérouville? Some day that laugh should cost him dear. The vicomte? What was his misfortune to the vicomte that he should pick a quarrel on his account? Was he a gallant fellow like Victor? He would learn.

He put on his hat. It was dark. Lights began to flicker in the fort and the château. The resolution seemed to give him new strength, and he squared his shoulders, took in deep breaths, entered the officers' mess and dined.

The men about him were for the most part manly men, brave, open-handed, rough outwardly and soft within. And as they saw him take his seat quietly, a sparkle of admiration gleamed from every eye. The vicomte and Victor, both out on parole, took their plates and glasses and ranged alongside of the Chevalier. In France they would have either left the room or cheered him; as it was, they all finished the evening meal as if nothing extraordinary had happened.

So the Chevalier won his first victory.


CHAPTER XVII

WHAT THE SHIP HENRI IV BRINGS TO QUEBEC

The ship Henri IV dropped anchor before Quebec on the seventh day of August. This being the Company's vessel, hundreds of Canadians flocked to the wharves. And again flags decked the château and town, and cannon roared. The Henri IV was part merchantman and part man-of-war. Her ports bristled with cannon, her marines wore formidable cutlasses, and the law on board was military in the strictest sense. Stores and ammunition filled her hull; carpenters' tools, tea-chests, bags of plaster, uniforms, cannon, small arms, beads and trinkets of no value save to the Indian, silk and wool and a beautiful window for the cathedral. And in return she was to carry away mink, otter and beaver skins.

Breton had been left behind by the Chevalier, who had joined a scouting party up the river. Love and anxiety had made the lad thin. Any night might bring disastrous news from Three Rivers, the burning of the settlement and the massacre. Such speculation counteracted his usually good appetite. So Breton mooned about the wharves day by day, always looking up the river instead of down.

To-day he lingered to witness the debarkation. Besides, the Henri IV was a great ship, bringing with her a vague perfume from France. Listlessly he watched the seamen empty the hold of its treasures; carelessly he observed the meeting of sweethearts and lovers, wives and husbands. Two women in masks meant nothing to him. . . Holy Virgin! it was not possible! Was his brain fooling him? He grew faint. Did he really see these two old men climbing down the ship's ladder to the boats? He choked; tears blinded him. He dashed aside the tears and looked once more. Oh! there could be no doubt; his eyes had not deceived him. There was only one face like that in the world; only one face like that, with its wrinkles, its haughty chin, its domineering nose. He had seen that lean, erect figure, crowned with silver-white hair, too many times to mistake it. It was the marquis, the grim and terrible marquis, the ogre of his dreams. The lad had always hated the marquis, taking his master's side; but at the sight of that familiar face, he felt his heart swell with joy and love and veneration. For intuition told him why Monsieur le Marquis was in Quebec. It was to seek Monsieur le Chevalier. And together they would all go back to France, beautiful France. He burst into hysterical tears, regardless of the wonder which he created. And there was the kindly Jehan, who had dandled him on his knee, long years ago before trouble had cast its blighting shadow over the House of Périgny. Blessed day!

Very slowly and with infinite pains the marquis climbed from the boat to the wharf. It was evident to Breton that the long voyage at sea had sapped his vitality and undermined his vigor. He was still erect, but, ah! how lean and frail! But his eye was still the eye of the proud eagle, and it swept the crowd, searching for a familiar face. Breton dared not make himself known because of that eye. An officer who had formerly resided in Rochelle recognized the marquis instantly, and he pressed forward.

"Monsieur le Marquis in Quebec?" he cried.

"You are of the fort?" replied the marquis. His voice was thin and high, like that of old men whose blood is turning to water.

"Yes, Monsieur," answered the officer.

"Will you lead me to his Excellency the governor? I have letters to present from her Majesty the queen."

"Follow me, Monsieur;" and the officer conducted the marquis through the crowd, politely but firmly brushing aside those who blocked his path. He found the governor quickly.