r LIBRARY 
 University at 
 California 
 Irvine
 
 f
 
 BY 
 
 STANLEY J. WEYMAN 
 
 THE HOUSE OF THE WOLF. A Romance. 
 With Frontispiece and Vignette by CHARLES 
 KERR. i2mo, cloth, $1.25. 
 
 A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE. Being the Me- 
 moirs of Gaston de Bonne, Sieur de Marsac. 
 With Frontispiece and Vignette by J. D. FORD. 
 I2tno, cloth, $1.25. 
 
 UNDER THE RED ROBE. With twelve full- 
 page Illustrations by R. CATON WOODVILLE. 
 I2mo, cloth, $1.25. 
 
 MY LADY ROTHA. A Romance of the Thirty 
 Years' War. With eight Illustrations. i2mo, 
 cloth, $1.25. 
 
 New York: LONGMANS, GREEN, & Co.
 
 "You seem surprised to see me here. . . ."p. 174.
 
 UNDER THE RED ROBE 
 
 V 
 
 STANLEY J. \yEYMAN 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE HOUSE OF THE WOLF," "A GENTLEMAN OF 
 FRANCE," ETC. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO. 
 i8 9 j
 
 053 
 
 > COPYRIGHT, 1894, 
 BY STANLEY J. WEYMAN. 
 
 FIRST EDITION, MARCH, 1894. 
 
 REPRINTED APRIL, AUGUST, OCTOBER AND DECEMBER, 18 
 FEBRUARY, 1895.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGH 
 
 I. AT ZATON'S ........ i 
 
 II. AT THE GREEN PILLAR 27 
 
 III. THE HOUSE IN THE WOOD 53 
 
 IV. MADAME AND MADEMOISELLE 78 
 
 V. REVENGE 102 
 
 VI. UNDER THE Pic DU MIDI 127 
 
 VII. A MASTER STROKE 153 
 
 VIII. THE QUESTION 178 
 
 IX. CLON 204 
 
 X. THE ARREST 231 
 
 XI. THE ROAD TO PARIS . . . . . . 259 
 
 XII. AT THE FINGER-POST 284 
 
 XIII. ST. MARTIN'S EVE 311 
 
 XIV. ST. MARTIN'S SUMMER 325 
 
 v
 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 " YOU SEEM SURPRISED TO SEE ME HERE ; BELIEVE ME, 
 
 I AM MORE SURPRISED TO SEE YOU " Frontispiece 
 
 "UNDOUBTEDLY," I REPLIED, "IF HE PREFERS TO BE 
 
 CANED IN THE STREETS "... To face page 3 
 
 I MADE WITHOUT ADO, THEREFORE, FOR THE GREEN 
 
 PILLAR, A LITTLE INN IN THE VILLAGE STREET . 28 
 " I AM M. DE BARTHE, A GENTLEMAN OF NORMANDY". 71 
 
 "You SPY!" SHE CRIED. " You HOUND! You 
 
 GENTLEMAN ! " 98 
 
 OUTSIDE THE DOOR, IN THE ROAD, SITTING ON HORSE- 
 BACK IN SILENCE, WERE TWO MEN . . . . I2O 
 
 ONE OF THE MEN WHO REMAINED AT THE TABLE 
 LAUGHED, AND THE OTHER BEGAN SINGING A LOW 
 SONG 155 
 
 THE CAPTAIN AND THE LIEUTENANT WERE WAITING. 
 . . . THE CAPTAIN HAD REMOVED HIS DOUBLET, 
 AND STOOD LEANING AGAINST THE SUN-DIAL . . IQO 
 
 I SPRANG THROUGH THE LINE OF SOLDIERS . . . 213 
 
 "MY GOD!" I CRIED 238 
 
 " YOU VILLAIN ! " HE CRIED, RIDING AT ME AGAIN . 276 
 STARING AFTER ME ACROSS HER BODY . . . .310
 
 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 AT ZATON'S. 
 
 " MARKED cards ! " 
 
 There were a score round us when the fool, 
 little knowing the man with whom he had to 
 deal, and as little how to lose like a gentleman, 
 flung the words in my teeth. He thought, I'll 
 be sworn, that I should storm and swear and 
 ruffle it like any common cock of the hackle. 
 But that was never Gil de Berault's way. For a 
 few seconds after he had spoken I did not even 
 look at him. I passed my eye instead smiling, 
 bien entendu round the ring of waiting faces, 
 saw that there was no one except De Pombal I 
 had cause to fear ; and then at last I rose and 
 looked at the fool with the grim face I have 
 known impose on older and wiser men. 
 
 i B
 
 2 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 "Marked cards, M. 1'Anglais?" I said, with a 
 chilling sneer. "They are used, I am told, to 
 trap players not unbirched schoolboys." 
 
 "Yet I say that they are marked!" he replied 
 hotly, in his queer foreign jargon. "In my last 
 hand I had nothing. You doubled the stakes. 
 Bah, Sir, you knew ! You have swindled me ! " 
 
 "Monsieur is easy to swindle when he plays 
 with a mirror behind him," I answered tartly. 
 And at that there was a great roar of laughter, 
 which might have been heard in the street, and 
 which brought to the table every one in the 
 eating-house whom his violence had not already 
 attracted. But I did not relax my face. I waited 
 until all was quiet again, and then waving aside 
 two or three who stood between us and the en- 
 trance, I pointed gravely to the door. "There is 
 a little space behind the church of St. Jacques, 
 M. 1'Etranger," I said, putting on my hat and 
 taking my cloak on my arm. "Doubtless you 
 will accompany me thither ? " 
 
 He snatched up his hat, his face burning with 
 shame and rage. " With pleasure ! " he blurted 
 out. " To the devil, if you like ! "
 
 04 
 
 3 
 
 3
 
 AT ZATON^S. 3 
 
 I thought the matter arranged, when the Mar- 
 quis laid his hand on the young fellow's arm 
 and checked him. "This must not be," he said, 
 turning from him to me with his grand fine- 
 gentleman's air. "You know me, M. de Berault. 
 This matter has gone far enough." 
 
 " Too far, M. de Pombal ! " I answered bitterly. 
 " Still, if you wish to take the gentleman's place, 
 I shall raise no objection." 
 
 " Chut, man ! " he retorted, shrugging his shoul- 
 ders negligently. " I know you, and I do not fight 
 with men of your stamp. Nor need this gentle- 
 man." 
 
 "Undoubtedly," I replied, bowing low, "if he 
 prefers to be caned in the streets." 
 
 That stung the Marquis. " Have a care ! have 
 a care ! " he cried hotly. " You go too far, M. 
 Berault." 
 
 "De Berault, if you please," I objected, eyeing 
 him sternly. " My family has borne the de as long 
 as yours, M. de Pombal." 
 
 He could not deny that, and he answered, " As 
 you please " ; at the same time restraining his 
 friend by a gesture. " But none the less, take my 
 
 B 2
 
 4 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 advice," he continued. " The Cardinal has forbid- 
 den duelling, and this time he means it ! You 
 have been in trouble once and gone free. A 
 second time it may fare worse with you. Let this 
 gentleman go, therefore, M. de Berault. Besides 
 why, shame upon you, man ! " he exclaimed 
 hotly ; " he is but a lad ! " 
 
 Two or three who stood behind me applauded 
 that. But I turned and they met my eye ; and 
 they were as mum as mice. " His age is his own 
 concern," I said grimly. "He was old enough a 
 while ago to insult me." 
 
 "And I will prove my words!" the lad cried, 
 exploding at last. He had spirit enough, and the 
 Marquis had had hard work to restrain him so 
 long. " You do me no service, M. de Pombal," he 
 continued, pettishly shaking off his friend's hand. 
 " By your leave, this gentleman and I will settle 
 this matter." 
 
 "That is better," I said, nodding drily, while 
 the Marquis stood aside, frowning and baffled. 
 "Permit me to lead the way." 
 
 Zaton's eating-house stands scarcely a hundred 
 paces from St. Jacques la Boucherie, and half the
 
 AT Z ATONES. 5 
 
 company went thither with us. The evening was 
 wet, the light in the streets was waning, the 
 streets themselves were dirty and slippery. There 
 were few passers in the Rue St. Antoine ; and 
 our party, which earlier in the day must have 
 attracted notice and a crowd, crossed unmarked, 
 and entered without interruption the paved trian- 
 gle which lies immediately behind the church. I 
 saw in the distance one of the Cardinal's guard 
 loitering in front of the scaffolding round the 
 new Hotel Richelieu ; and the sight of the uni- 
 form gave me pause for a moment. But it was 
 too late to repent. 
 
 The Englishman began at once to strip off his 
 clothes. I closed mine to the throat, for the air 
 was chilly. At that moment, while we stood pre- 
 paring and most of the company seemed a little 
 inclined to stand off from me, I felt a hand on 
 my arm, and, turning, saw the dwarfish tailor at 
 whose house in the Rue Savonnerie I lodged at 
 the time. The fellow's presence was unwelcome, 
 to say the least of it ; and though for want of 
 better company I had sometimes encouraged him 
 to be free with me at home, I took that to be no
 
 6 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 reason why I should be plagued with him before 
 gentlemen. I shook him off, therefore, hoping 
 by a frown to silence him. 
 
 He was not to be so easily put down, however. 
 And perforce I had to speak to him. "After- 
 wards, afterwards," I said. " I am engaged now." 
 
 " For God's sake, don't, Sir ! " was the poor 
 fool's answer. " Don't do it ! You will bring a 
 curse on the house. He is but a lad, and " 
 
 " You, too ! " I exclaimed, losing patience. " Be 
 silent, you scum ! What do you know about gen- 
 tlemen's quarrels ? Leave me ; do you hear ? " 
 
 " But the Cardinal ! " he cried in a quavering 
 voice. " The Cardinal, M. de Berault ? The last 
 man you killed is not forgotten yet. This time 
 he will be sure to " 
 
 " Do you hear ? " I hissed. The fellow's im- 
 pudence passed all bounds. It was as bad as his 
 croaking. " Begone ! " I said. " I suppose you are 
 afraid he will kill me, and you will lose your money ? " 
 
 Prison fell back at that almost as if I had struck 
 him, and I turned to my adversary, who had 
 been awaiting my motions with impatience. God 
 knows he did look young ; as he stood with his
 
 AT ZATOWS. 7 
 
 head bare and his fair hair drooping over his 
 smooth woman's forehead a mere lad fresh from 
 the College of Burgundy, if they have such a thing 
 in England. I felt a sudden chill as I looked at 
 him : a qualm, a tremor, a presentiment. What 
 was it the little tailor had said ? That I should 
 but there, he did not know. What did he know 
 of such things ? If I let this pass I must kill a 
 man a day, or leave Paris and the eating-house, 
 and starve. 
 
 "A thousand pardons," I said gravely, as I 
 drew and took my place. " A dun. I am sorry 
 that the poor devil caught me so inopportunely. 
 Now, however, I am at your service." 
 
 He saluted, and we crossed swords and began. 
 But from the first I had no doubt what the result 
 would be. The slippery stones and fading light 
 gave him, it is true, some chance, some advantage, 
 more than he deserved ; but I had no sooner felt 
 his blade than I knew that he was no swordsman. 
 Possibly he had taken half-a-dozen lessons in rapier 
 art, and practised what he learned with an Eng- 
 lishman as heavy and awkward as himself. But 
 that was all. He made a few wild, clumsy rushes,
 
 8 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 parrying widely. When I had foiled these, the 
 danger was over, and I held him at my mercy. 
 
 I played with him a little while, watching the 
 sweat gather on his brow, and the shadow of 
 the church-tower fall deeper and darker, like 
 the shadow of doom, on his face. Not out of 
 cruelty God knows I have never erred in that 
 direction ! but because, for the first time in my 
 life, I felt a strange reluctance to strike the blow. 
 The curls clung to his forehead ; his breath came 
 and went in gasps ; I heard the men behind me 
 murmur, and one or two of them drop an oath ; 
 and then I slipped slipped, and was down in a 
 moment on my right side, my elbow striking the 
 pavement so sharply that the arm grew numb to 
 the wrist. 
 
 He held off ! I heard a dozen voices cry, " Now ! 
 now you have him ! " But he held off. He stood 
 back and waited with his breast heaving and his 
 point lowered, until I had risen and stood again on 
 my guard. 
 
 " Enough ! enough ! " a rough voice behind me 
 cried. "Don't hurt the man after that." 
 
 "On guard, Sir!" I answered coldly for he
 
 AT ZATOWS. 9 
 
 seemed to waver. " It was an accident. It shall 
 not avail you again." 
 
 Several voices cried "Shame!" and one, "You 
 coward ! " But the Englishman stepped forward, 
 a fixed look in his blue eyes. He took his place 
 without a word. I read in his drawn white face 
 that he had made up his mind to the worst, and 
 his courage won my admiration. I would gladly 
 and thankfully have set one of the lookers-on 
 any of the lookers-on in his place ; but that 
 could not be. -So I thought of Zaton's closed to 
 me, of Pombal's insult, of the sneers and slights 
 I had long kept at the sword's point ; and, press- 
 ing him suddenly in a heat of affected anger, I 
 thrust strongly over his guard, which had grown 
 feeble, and ran him through the chest. 
 
 When I saw him lying, laid out on the stones 
 with his eyes half shut, and his face glimmering 
 white in the dusk not that I saw him thus long, 
 for there were a dozen kneeling round him in a 
 twinkling I felt an unwonted pang. It passed, 
 however, in a moment. For I found myself con- 
 fronted by a ring of angry faces of men who, 
 keeping at a distance, hissed and threatened me.
 
 10 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 They were mostly canaille, who had gathered 
 during the fight, and had viewed all that passed 
 from the farther side of the railings. While 
 some snarled and raged at me like wolves, call- 
 ing me " Butcher ! " and " Cut-throat ! " and the 
 like, or cried out that Berault was at his trade 
 again, others threatened me with the vengeance 
 of the Cardinal, flung the edict in my teeth, and 
 said with glee that the guard were coming 
 they would see me hanged yet. 
 
 " His blood is on your head ! " ne cried furi- 
 ously. " He will be dead in an hour. And you 
 will swing for him ! Hurrah ! " 
 
 " Begone to your kennel ! " I answered, with a 
 look which sent him a yard backwards, though 
 the railings were between us. And I wiped my 
 blade carefully, standing a little apart. For 
 well, I could understand it it was one of those 
 moments when a man is not popular. Those 
 who had come with me from the eating-house 
 eyed me askance, and turned their backs 'when 
 I drew nearer ; and those who had joined us and 
 obtained admission were scarcely more polite. 
 
 But I was not to be outdone in sangfroid.
 
 AT ZATOWS. 1 1 
 
 I cocked my hat, and drawing my cloak over my 
 shoulders, went out with a swagger which drove 
 the curs from the gate before I came within a 
 dozen paces of it. The rascals outside fell back 
 as quickly, and in a moment I was in the street. 
 Another moment and I should have been clear 
 of the place and free to lie by for a while, when 
 a sudden scurry took place round me. The crowd 
 fled every way into the gloom, and in a hand-turn 
 a dozen of the Cardinal's guard closed round me. 
 
 I had some acquaintance with the officer in 
 command, and he saluted me civilly. "This is a 
 bad business, M. de Berault," he said. "The 
 man is dead they tell me." 
 
 "Neither dying nor dead," I answered lightly. 
 " If that be all, you may go home again." 
 
 "With you," he replied, with a grin, "certainly. 
 And as it rains, the sooner the better. I must 
 ask you for your sword, I am afraid." 
 
 "Take it," I said, with the philosophy which 
 never deserts me. "But the man will not die." 
 
 " I hope that may avail you," he answered in a 
 tone I did not like. " Left wheel, my friends ! 
 To the Chatelet ! March ! "
 
 12 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 "There are worse places," I said, and resigned 
 myself to fate. After all, I had been in prison 
 before, and learned that only one jail lets no 
 prisoner escape. 
 
 But when I found that my friend's orders were 
 to hand me over to the watch, and that I was 
 to be confined like any common jail-bird caught 
 cutting a purse or slitting a throat, I confess my 
 heart sank. If I could get speech with the 
 Cardinal, all would probably be well ; but if I 
 failed in this, or if the case came before him 
 in strange guise, or he were in a hard mood 
 himself, then it might go ill with me. The edict 
 said, death ! 
 
 And the lieutenant at the Chatelet did not 
 put himself to much trouble to hearten me. 
 " What ! again, M. de Berault ? " he said, raising 
 his eyebrows as he received me at the gate, 
 and recognized me by the light of the brazier 
 which his men were just kindling outside. "You 
 are a very bold man, Sir, or a very foolhardy 
 one, to come here again. The old business, I 
 
 suppose 
 
 "Yes, but he is not dead," I answered coolly.
 
 AT ZATON^S. 13 
 
 "He has a trifle a mere scratch. It was behind 
 the church of St. Jacques." 
 
 " He looked dead enough," my friend the 
 guardsman interposed. He had not yet gone. 
 
 "Bah ! " I answered scornfully. " Have you ever 
 known me make a mistake ? When I kill a man, 
 I kill him. I put myself to pains, I tell you, not 
 to kill this Englishman. Therefore he will live." 
 
 "I hope so," the lieutenant said, with a dry 
 smile. " And you had better hope so, too, M. de 
 Berault. For if not " 
 
 "Well?" I said, somewhat troubled. "If not, 
 what, my friend ? " 
 
 " I fear he will be the last man you will fight," 
 he answered. " And even if he lives, I would not 
 be too sure, my friend. This time the Cardinal is 
 determined to put it down." 
 
 " He and I are old friends," I said confidently. 
 
 " So I have heard," he answered, with a short 
 laugh. "I think the same was said of Chalais. I 
 do not remember that it saved his head." 
 
 This was not reassuring. But worse was to 
 come. Early in the morning orders were received 
 that I should be treated with especial strictness,
 
 14 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 and I was given the choice between irons and one 
 of the cells below the level. Choosing the latter, 
 I was left to reflect upon many things ; among 
 others, on the queer and uncertain nature of the 
 Cardinal, who loved, I knew, to play with a man 
 as a cat with a mouse ; and on the ill effects which 
 sometimes attend a high chest-thrust, however 
 carefully delivered. I only rescued myself at last 
 from these and other unpleasant reflections by 
 obtaining the loan of a pair of dice ; and the light 
 being just enough to enable me to reckon the 
 throws, I amused myself for hours by casting 
 them on certain principles of my own. But a 
 long run again and again upset my calculations; 
 and at last brought me to the conclusion that a 
 run of bad luck may be so persistent as to see 
 out the most sagacious player. This was not a 
 reflection very welcome to me at the moment. 
 
 Nevertheless, for three days it was all the com- 
 pany I had. At the end of that time the knave 
 of a jailer who attended me, and who had never 
 grown tired of telling me, after the fashion of his 
 kind, that I should be hanged, came to me with a 
 less assured air. "Perhaps you would like a little 
 water?" he said civilly.
 
 AT ZATON^S. I $ 
 
 " Why, rascal ? " I asked. 
 
 "To wash with," he answered. 
 
 " I asked for some yesterday, and you would 
 not bring it," I grumbled. " However, better late 
 than never. Bring it now. If I must hang, I will 
 hang like a gentleman. But, depend upon it, the 
 Cardinal will not serve an old friend so scurvy a 
 trick." 
 
 "You are to go to him," he answered, when 
 he came back with the water. 
 
 "What? To the Cardinal?" I cried. 
 
 "Yes," he answered. 
 
 " Good ! " I exclaimed ; and in my joy I sprang 
 up at once, and began to refresh my dress. "So 
 all this time I have been doing him an injustice. 
 Vive Monseigneur ! I might have known it." 
 
 " Don't make too sure ! " the man answered 
 spitefully. Then he went on : "I have some- 
 thing else for you. A friend of yours left it 
 at the gate," he added. And he handed me a 
 packet. 
 
 " Quite so ! " I said, reading his rascally face 
 aright. "And you kept it as long as you dared 
 as long as you thought I should hang, you
 
 1 6 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 knave ! Was not that so ? But there, do not 
 lie to me. Tell me instead which of my friends 
 left it." For, to confess the truth, I had not 
 so many friends at this time ; and ten good 
 crowns the packet contained no less a sum 
 argued a pretty staunch friend, and one of whom 
 a man might be proud. 
 
 The knave sniggered maliciously. "A crooked, 
 dwarfish man left it," he said. " I doubt I might 
 call him a tailor and not be far out." 
 
 " Chut ! " I answered ; but I was a little out 
 of countenance. "I understand. An honest fel- 
 low enough, and in debt to me ! I am glad he 
 remembered. But when am I to go, friend ? " 
 
 " In an hour," he answered sullenly. Doubt- 
 less he had looked to get one of the crowns ; 
 but I was too old a hand for that. If I came 
 back I could buy his services ; and if I did not 
 I should have wasted my money. 
 
 Nevertheless, a little later, when I found my- 
 self on my way to the H6tel Richelieu under so 
 close a guard that I could see nothing except 
 the figures that immediately surrounded me, I 
 wished I had given him the money. At such
 
 AT Z ATONES. I? 
 
 times, when all hangs in the balance and the 
 sky is overcast, the mind runs on luck and old 
 superstitions, and is prone to think a crown given 
 here may avail there though there be a hun- 
 dred leagues away. 
 
 The Palais Richelieu was at this time in build- 
 ing, and we were required to wait in a long, 
 bare gallery, where the masons were at work. 
 I was kept a full hour here, pondering uncom- 
 fortably on the strange whims and fancies of 
 the great man who then ruled France as the 
 King's Lieutenant-General, with all the King's 
 powers ; and whose life I had once been the 
 means of saving by a little timely information. 
 On occasion he had done something to wipe out 
 the debt ; and at other times he had permitted 
 me to be free with him. We were not unknown 
 to one another, therefore. 
 
 Nevertheless, when the doors were at last thrown 
 open, and I was led into his presence, my confi- 
 dence underwent a shock. His cold glance, that, 
 roving over me, regarded me not as a man but 
 an item, the steely glitter of his southern eyes, 
 chilled me to the bone. The room was bare, the 
 
 c
 
 1 8 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 floor without carpet or covering. Some of the 
 woodwork lay about, unfinished and in pieces. 
 But the man this man, needed no surroundings. 
 His keen, pale face, his brilliant eyes, even his 
 presence though he was of no great height and 
 began already to stoop at the shoulders were 
 enough to awe the boldest. I recalled as I looked 
 at him a hundred tales of his iron will, his cold 
 heart, his unerring craft. He had humbled the 
 King's brother, the splendid Duke of Orleans, in 
 the dust. He had curbed the Queen-mother. A 
 dozen heads, the noblest in France, had come to 
 the block through him. Only two years before 
 he had quelled Rochelle ; only a few months be- 
 fore he had crushed the great insurrection in Lan- 
 guedoc : and though the south, stripped of its old 
 privileges, still seethed with discontent, no one in 
 this year 1630 dared lift a hand against him 
 openly, at any rate. Under the surface a hundred 
 plots, a thousand intrigues, sought his life or his 
 power ; but these, I suppose, are the hap of every 
 great man. 
 
 No wonder, then, that the courage on which I 
 plumed myself sank low at sight of him ; or that
 
 AT Z 'ATOM'S. 19 
 
 it was as much as I could do to mingle with the 
 humility of my salute some touch of the sangfroid 
 of old acquaintanceship. 
 
 And perhaps that had been better left out. For 
 this man was without bowels. For a moment, 
 while he stood looking at me and before he spoke 
 to me, I gave myself up for lost. There was a 
 glint of cruel satisfaction in his eyes that warned 
 me, before he spoke, what he was going to say 
 to me. 
 
 "I could not have made a better catch, M. de 
 Berault," he said, smiling villainously, while he 
 gently smoothed the fur of a cat that had sprung 
 on the table beside him. "An old offender and 
 an excellent example. I doubt it will not stop 
 with you. But later, we will make you the war- 
 rant for flying at higher game." 
 
 "Monseigneur has handled a sword himself," I 
 blurted out. The very room seemed to be grow- 
 ing darker, the air colder. I was never nearer 
 fear in my life. 
 
 " Yes ? " he said, smiling delicately. " And so ? " 
 
 " Will not be too hard on the failings of a poor 
 gentleman." 
 
 C 2
 
 20 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 " He shall suffer no more than a rich one," he 
 replied suavely, as he stroked the cat. " Enjoy 
 that satisfaction, M. de Berault. Is that all ? " 
 
 "Once I was of service to your Eminence," I 
 said desperately. 
 
 " Payment has been made," he answered, " more 
 than once. But for that I should not have seen 
 you, M. de Berault." 
 
 " The King's face ! " I cried, snatching at the 
 straw he seemed to hold out. 
 
 He laughed cynically, smoothly. His thin face, 
 his dark moustache, and whitening hair, gave him 
 an air of indescribable keenness. " I am not the 
 King," he said. "Besides, I am told you have 
 killed as many as six men in duels. You owe the 
 King, therefore, one life at least. You must pay 
 it. There is no more to be said, M. de Berault," 
 he continued coldly, turning away and beginning 
 to collect some papers. " The law must take its 
 course." 
 
 I thought he was about to nod to the lieuten- 
 ant to withdraw me, and a chilling sweat broke 
 out down my back. I saw the scaffold, I felt the 
 cords. A moment, and it would be too late ! " I
 
 AT ZATOWS. 21 
 
 have a favour to ask," I stammered desperately, 
 "if your Eminence would give me a moment 
 alone." 
 
 "To what end?" he answered, turning and eye- 
 ing me with cold disfavour. " I know you your 
 past all. It can do no good, my friend." 
 
 "Nor harm!" I cried. "And I am a dying 
 man, Monseigneur ! " 
 
 " That is true," he said thoughtfully. Still he 
 seemed to hesitate ; and my heart beat fast. At 
 last he looked at the lieutenant. " You may leave 
 us," he said shortly. "Now," when the officer 
 had withdrawn and left us alone, "what is it? 
 Say what you have to say quickly. And above 
 all, do not try to fool me, M. de Berault." 
 
 But his piercing eyes so disconcerted me that 
 now I had my chance I could not find a word to 
 say, and stood before him mute. I think this 
 pleased him, for his face relaxed. 
 
 " Well ? " he said at last. Is that all ? " 
 
 "The man is not dead," I muttered. 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders contemptuously. 
 "What of that?" he said. "That was not what 
 you wanted to say to me."
 
 22 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 "Once I saved your Eminence's life," I fal- 
 tered miserably. 
 
 "Admitted," he answered, in his thin, incisive 
 voice. " You mentioned the fact before. On the 
 other hand, you have taken six to my knowledge, 
 M. de Berault. You have lived the life of a 
 bully, a common bravo, a gamester. You, a man 
 of family ! For shame ! And it has brought you 
 to this. Yet on that one point I am willing to 
 hear more," he added abruptly. 
 
 "I might save your Eminence's life again," I 
 cried. It was a sudden inspiration. 
 
 "You know something," he said quickly, fixing 
 me with his eyes. " But no," he continued, shak- 
 ing his head gently. " Pshaw ! the trick is old. 
 I have better spies than you, M. de Berault." 
 
 " But no better sword," I cried hoarsely. " No, 
 not in all your guard ! " 
 
 "That is true," he said. "That is true." To 
 my surprise, he spoke in a tone of consideration ; 
 and he looked down at the floor. " Let me think, 
 my friend," he continued. 
 
 He walked two or three times up and down 
 the room, while I stood trembling. I confess it,
 
 AT ZATON'S. 23 
 
 trembling. The man whose pulses danger has 
 no power to quicken, is seldom proof against 
 suspense ; and the sudden hope his words awak- 
 ened in me so shook me that his figure, as he 
 trod lightly to and fro, with the cat rubbing 
 against his robe and turning time for time with 
 him, wavered before my eyes. I grasped the 
 table to steady myself. I had not admitted even 
 in my own mind how darkly the shadow of 
 Montfaucon and the gallows had fallen across 
 me. 
 
 I had leisure to recover myself, for it was some 
 time before he spoke. When he did, it was in 
 a voice harsh, changed, imperative. "You have 
 the reputation of a man faithful, at least, to his 
 employer," he said. " Do not answer me. I say 
 it is so. Well, I will trust you. I will give you 
 .one more chance though it is a desperate one. 
 Woe to you if you fail me ! Do you know 
 Cocheforet in Be"arn ? It is not far from Auch." 
 
 "No, your Eminence." 
 
 " Nor M. de Cocheforet ? " 
 
 "No, your Eminence." 
 
 " So much the better," he retorted. " But you
 
 24 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 have heard of him. He has been engaged in 
 every Gascon plot since the late King's death, 
 and gave me more trouble last year in the 
 Vivarais than any man twice his years. At 
 present he is at Bosost in Spain, with other 
 refugees, but I have learned that at frequent 
 intervals he visits his wife at Cocheforet, which 
 is six leagues within the border. On one of 
 these visits he must be arrested." 
 
 "That should be easy," I said. 
 
 The Cardinal looked at me. " Tush, man ! 
 what do you know about it ? " he answered 
 bluntly. " It is whispered at Cocheforet if a sol- 
 dier crosses the street at Auch. In the house 
 are only two or three servants, but they have 
 the country-side with them to a man, and they 
 are a dangerous breed. A spark might kindle 
 a fresh rising. The arrest, therefore, must be 
 made secretly." 
 
 I bowed. 
 
 " One resolute man inside the house, with the 
 help of two or three servants whom he could 
 summon to his aid at will, might effect it," the 
 Cardinal continued, glancing at a paper which lay
 
 AT ZATON^S. 25 
 
 on the table. "The question is, will you be the 
 man, my friend?" 
 
 I hesitated ; then I bowed. What choice 
 had I? 
 
 "Nay, nay, speak out ! " he said sharply. "Yes 
 or no, M. de Berault?" 
 
 " Yes, your Eminence," I said reluctantly. 
 Again, I say, what choice had I ? 
 
 " You will bring him to Paris, and alive. He 
 knows things, and that is why I want him. You 
 understand?" 
 
 "I understand, Monseigneur," I answered. 
 
 " You will get into the house as you can," he 
 continued. " For that you will need strategy, and 
 good strategy. They suspect everybody. You 
 must deceive them. If you fail to deceive them, 
 or, deceiving them, are found out later, M. de 
 Berault I do not think you will trouble me 
 again, or break the edict a second time. On the 
 other hand, should you deceive me" he smiled 
 still more subtly, but his voice sank to a purring 
 note "I will break you on the wheel like the 
 ruined gamester you are ! " 
 
 I met his look without quailing. " So be it ! "
 
 26 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 I said recklessly. " If I do not bring M. de 
 Cocheforet to Paris, you may do that to me, and 
 more also ! " 
 
 " It is a bargain ! " he answered slowly. " I 
 think you will be faithful. For money, here are a 
 hundred crowns. That sum should suffice ; but if 
 you succeed you shall have twice as much more. 
 Well, that is all, I think. You understand?" 
 
 "Yes, Monseigneur." 
 
 "Then why do you wait?" 
 
 "The lieutenant?" I said modestly. 
 
 Monseigneur laughed to himself, and sitting 
 down wrote a word or two on a slip of paper. 
 "Give him that," he said, in high good-humour. 
 "I fear, M. de Berault, you will never get your 
 deserts in this world!"
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 AT THE GREEN PILLAR. 
 
 COCHEFORET lies in a billowy land of oak and 
 beech and chestnut a land of deep, leafy bot- 
 toms, and hills clothed with forest. Ridge and 
 valley, glen and knoll, the woodland, sparsely 
 peopled and more sparsely tilled, stretches away 
 to the great snow mountains that here limit 
 France. It swarms with game with wolves 
 and bears, deer and boars. To the end of his 
 life I have heard that the great King loved this 
 district, and would sigh, when years and State 
 fell heavily on him, for the beech-groves and 
 box-covered hills of South Beam. From the 
 terraced steps of Auch you can see the forest 
 roll away in light and shadow, vale and upland, 
 to the base of the snow-peaks; and, though I 
 come from Brittany and love the smell of the 
 salt wind, I have seen few sights that outdo this. 
 
 27
 
 28 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 It was the second week in October when I 
 came to Cocheforet, and, dropping down from 
 the last wooded brow, rode quietly into the place 
 at evening. I was alone, and had ridden all 
 day in a glory of ruddy beech-leaves, through 
 the silence of forest roads, across clear brooks 
 and glades still green. I had seen more of the 
 quiet and peace of the country than had been 
 my share since boyhood, and I felt a little mel- 
 ancholy; it might be for that reason, or because 
 I had no great taste for the task before me 
 the task now so . imminent. In good faith, it 
 was not a gentleman's work, look at it how you 
 might. 
 
 But beggars must not be choosers, and I knew 
 that this feeling would pass away. At the inn, 
 in the presence of others, under the spur of 
 necessity, or in the excitement of the chase, 
 were that once begun, I should lose the feeling. 
 When a man is young, he seeks solitude : when 
 he is middle-aged he flies it and his thoughts. 
 I made without ado for the Green Pillar, a little 
 inn in the village street, to which I had been 
 directed at Auch, and, thundering on the door
 
 o
 
 AT THE GREEK PILLAR. 2Cj 
 
 with the knob of my riding-switch, railed at the 
 man for keeping me waiting. 
 
 Here and there at hovel doors in the street 
 which was a mean, poor place, not worthy of 
 the name men and women looked out at me 
 suspiciously. But I affected to ignore them ; 
 and at last the host came. He was a fair- 
 haired man, half Basque, half Frenchman, and 
 had scanned me well, I was sure, through some 
 window or peephole; for, when he came out, 
 he betrayed no surprise at the sight of a well- 
 dressed stranger a portent in that out-of-the- 
 way village but eyed me with a kind of sullen 
 reserve. 
 
 " I can lie here to-night, I suppose ? " I said, 
 dropping the reins on the sorrel's neck. The 
 horse hung its head. 
 
 "'I don't know," he answered stupidly. 
 
 I pointed to the green bough which topped a 
 post that stood opposite the door. 
 
 " This is an inn, is it not ? " I said. 
 
 "Yes," he answered slowly; "it is an inn. 
 But " 
 
 " But you are full, or you are out of food, or
 
 30 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 your wife is ill, or something else is amiss," I 
 answered peevishly. "All the same, I am going 
 to lie here. So you must make the best of it, 
 and your wife, too if you have one." 
 
 He scratched his head, looking at me with an 
 ugly glitter in his eyes. But he said nothing, 
 and I dismounted. 
 
 " Where can I stable my horse ? " I asked. 
 
 " I'll put it up," he answered sullenly, step- 
 ping forward and taking the reins in his hands. 
 
 " Very well," I said ; " but I go with you. A 
 merciful man is merciful to his beast, and where- 
 ever I go I see my horse fed." 
 
 "It will be fed," he said shortly. And then 
 he waited for me to go into the house. " The 
 wife is in there," he continued, looking at me 
 stubbornly. 
 
 "Imprimis if you understand Latin, my friend," 
 I answered, "the horse in the stall." 
 
 As if he saw it was no good, he turned the 
 sorrel slowly round, and began to lead it across 
 the village street. There was a shed behind 
 the inn, which I had already marked and taken 
 for the stable, and I was surprised when I found
 
 AT THE GREEN PILLAR. 31 
 
 he was not going there. But I made no remark, 
 and in a few minutes saw the horse well stabled 
 in a hovel which seemed to belong to a neighbour. 
 
 This done, the man led the way back to the 
 inn, carrying my valise. 
 
 " You have no other guests ? " I said, with a 
 casual air. I knew he was watching me closely. 
 
 " No," he answered. 
 
 "This is not much in the way to anywhere, I 
 suppose ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 That was evident ; a more retired place I never 
 saw. The hanging woods, rising steeply to a 
 great height, so shut the valley in that I was 
 puzzled to think how a man could leave it save 
 by the road I had come. The cottages, which 
 were no more than mean, small huts, ran in a 
 straggling double line, with many gaps through 
 fallen trees and ill-cleared meadows. Among 
 them a noisy brook ran in and out. And the 
 inhabitants charcoal-burners, or swineherds, or 
 poor people of the like class, were no better than 
 their dwellings. I looked in vain for the Chateau. 
 It was not to be seen, and I dared not ask for it.
 
 32 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 The man led me into the common room of the 
 tavern a low-roofed, poor place, lacking a chim- 
 ney or glazed windows, and grimy with smoke 
 and use. The fire a great half -burned tree 
 smouldered on a stone hearth, raised a foot from 
 the floor. A huge black pot simmered over it, 
 and beside one window lounged a country fellow 
 talking with the goodwife. In the dusk I could 
 not see his face, but I gave the woman a word, 
 and sat down to wait for my supper. 
 
 She seemed more silent than the common run 
 of women ; but this might be because her hus- 
 band was present. While she moved about, get- 
 ting my meal, he took his place against the door- 
 post and fell to staring at me so persistently that 
 I felt by no means at my ease. He was a tall, 
 strong fellow, with a rough moustache and brown 
 beard, cut in the mode Henri Quatre ; and on the 
 subject of that king a safe one, I knew, with a 
 B6arnais and on that alone, I found it possible 
 to make him talk. Even then there was a suspi- 
 cious gleam in his eyes that bade me abstain from 
 questions ; and as the darkness deepened behind 
 him, and the firelight played more and more
 
 AT THE GREEN PILLAR. 33 
 
 strongly on his features, and I thought of the 
 leagues of woodland that lay between this remote 
 valley and Auch, I recalled the Cardinal's warn- 
 ing that if I failed in my attempt I should be 
 little likely to trouble Paris again. 
 
 The lout by the window paid no attention to 
 me ; nor I to him, when I had once satisfied my- 
 self that he was really what he seemed to be. 
 But by and by two or three men rough, un- 
 couth fellows dropped in to reinforce the land- 
 lord, and they, too, seemed to have no other 
 business than to sit in silence looking at me, or 
 now and again to exchange a word in a patois 
 of their own. By the time my supper was ready, 
 the knaves numbered six in all; and, as they 
 were armed to a man with huge Spanish knives, 
 and evidently resented my presence in their dull 
 rustic fashion every rustic is suspicious I 
 began to think that, unwittingly, I had put my 
 head into a wasp's nest. 
 
 Nevertheless, I ate and drank with apparent 
 appetite; but little that passed within the circle 
 of light cast by the smoky lamp escaped me. I 
 watched the men's looks and gestures at least 
 
 D
 
 34 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 as sharply as they watched mine; and all the 
 time I was racking my wits for some mode of dis- 
 arming their suspicions or failing that, of learn- 
 ing something more of the position, which, it was 
 clear, far exceeded in difficulty and danger any- 
 thing I had expected. The whole valley, it would 
 seem, was on the lookout to protect my man ! 
 
 I had purposely brought with me from Auch a 
 couple of bottles of choice Armagnac ; and these 
 had been carried into the house with my saddle- 
 bags. I took one out now and opened it, and 
 carelessly offered a dram of the spirit to the 
 landlord. He took it. As he drank it, I saw his 
 face flush; he handed back the cup reluctantly, 
 and on that hint I offered him another. The 
 strong spirit was already beginning to work. He 
 accepted, and in a few minutes began to talk 
 more freely and with less of the constraint which 
 had marked us. Still, his tongue ran chiefly on 
 questions he would know this, he would learn 
 that; but even this was a welcome change. I 
 told him openly whence I had come, by what 
 road, how long I had stayed in Auch, and where ; 
 and so far I satisfied his curiosity. Only when I
 
 AT THE GREEN PILLAR. 35 
 
 came to the subject of my visit to Cocheforet I 
 kept a mysterious silence, hinting darkly at busi- 
 ness in Spain and friends across the border, and 
 this and that, and giving the peasants to under- 
 stand, if they pleased, that I was in the same 
 interest as their exiled master. 
 
 They took the bait, winked at one another, and 
 began to look at me in a more friendly way 
 the landlord foremost. But when I had led them 
 so far, I dared go no farther, lest I should com- 
 mit myself and be found out. I stopped, there- 
 fore, and, harking back to general subjects, 
 chanced to compare my province with theirs. 
 The landlord, now become almost talkative, was 
 not slow to take up this challenge; and it pres- 
 ently led to my acquiring a curious piece of 
 knowledge. He was boasting of his great snow 
 mountains, the forests that propped them, the 
 bears that roamed in them, the izards that loved 
 the ice, and the boars that fed on the oak mast. 
 
 " Well," I said, quite by chance, " we have not 
 these things, it is true. But we have things in 
 the north you have not. We have tens of thou- 
 sands of good horses not such ponies as you 
 
 D 2
 
 36 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 breed here. At the horse fair at F6camp my 
 sorrel would be lost in the crowd. Here in the 
 south you will not meet his match in a long day's 
 journey." 
 
 " Do not make too sure of that ! " the man 
 replied, his eyes bright with triumph and the 
 dram. "What would you say if I showed you 
 a better in my own stable?" 
 
 I saw that his words sent a kind of thrill 
 through his other hearers, and that such of them 
 as understood for two or three of them talked 
 their patois only looked at him angrily; and 
 in a twinkling I began to comprehend. But I 
 affected dulness, and laughed scornfully. 
 
 " Seeing is believing," I said. " I doubt if you 
 know a good horse here when you see one, my 
 friend." 
 
 " Oh, don't I ? " he said, winking. " Indeed ! " 
 
 " I doubt it," I answered stubbornly. 
 
 "Then come with me, and I will show you 
 one," he retorted, discretion giving way to vain- 
 glory. His wife and the others, I saw, looked 
 at him dumbfounded; but, without paying any 
 heed to them, he took up a lanthorn, and, assum-
 
 AT THE GREEN PILLAR. 37 
 
 ing an air of peculiar wisdom, opened the door. 
 " Come with me," he continued. " I don't know 
 a good horse when I see one, don't I ? I know 
 a better than yours, at any rate!" 
 
 I should not have been surprised if the other 
 men had interfered; but I suppose he was a 
 leader among them, and they did not, and in 
 a moment we were outside. Three paces through 
 the darkness took us to the stable, an offset at 
 the back of the inn. My man twirled the pin, 
 and, leading the way in, raised his lanthorn. A 
 horse whinnied softly, and turned its bright, soft 
 eyes on us a baldf aced chestnut, with white 
 hairs in its tail and one white stocking. 
 
 " There ! " my guide exclaimed, waving the 
 lanthorn to and fro boastfully, that I might see 
 its points. " What do you say to that ? Is that 
 an undersized pony ? " 
 
 " No," I answered, purposely stinting my 
 praise. "It is pretty fair for this country." 
 
 "Or any country," he answered wrathfully. 
 "Any country, I say I don't care where it is! 
 And I have reason to know ! Why, man, that 
 horse is But there, that is a good horse, if
 
 38 UNDER THE RED ROBE, 
 
 ever you saw one ! " And with that he ended 
 abruptly and lamely, lowering the lanthorn with 
 a sudden gesture, and turning to the door. He 
 was on the instant in such hurry, that he almost 
 shouldered me out. 
 
 But I understood. I knew that he had nearly 
 betrayed all that he had been on the point of 
 blurting out that that was M. de Cocheforet's 
 horse ! M. de Cocheforet's, comprenez bien ! And 
 while I turned away my face in the darkness, 
 that he might not see me smile, I was not sur- 
 prised to find the man in a moment changed, 
 and become, in the closing of the door, as sober 
 and suspicious as before, ashamed of himself and 
 enraged with me, and in a mood to cut my throat 
 for a trifle. 
 
 It was not my cue to quarrel, however any- 
 thing but that. I made, therefore, as if I had 
 seen nothing, and when we were back in the 
 inn praised the horse grudgingly, and like a man 
 but half convinced. The ugly looks and ugly 
 weapons I saw around me were fine incentives 
 to caution ; and no Italian, I flatter myself, could 
 have played his part more nicely than I did. But
 
 AT THE GREEN PILLAR. 39 
 
 I was heartily glad when it was over, and I found 
 myself, at last, left alone for the night in a little 
 garret a mere fowl-house upstairs, formed by 
 the roof and gable walls, and hung with strings 
 of apples and chestnuts. It was a poor sleeping- 
 place rough, chilly, and unclean. I ascended 
 to it by a ladder; my cloak and a little fern 
 formed my only bed. But I was glad to accept 
 it. It enabled me to be alone and to think out 
 the position unwatched. 
 
 Of course M. de Cocheforet was at the Chateau. 
 He had left his horse here, and gone up on 
 foot : probably that was his usual plan. He 
 was therefore within my reach, in one sense 
 I could not have come at a better time but in 
 another he was as much beyond it as if I were 
 still in Paris. So far was I from being able to 
 seize him that I dared not ask a question or let 
 fall a rash word, or even look about me freely. 
 I saw I dared not. The slightest hint of my 
 mission, the faintest breath of distrust, would 
 lead to throat-cutting and the throat would be 
 mine; while the longer I lay in the village, the 
 greater suspicion I should incur, and the closer 
 would be the watch kept over me.
 
 40 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 In such a position some men might have given 
 up the attempt and saved themselves across the 
 border. But I have always valued myself on 
 my fidelity, and I did not shrink. If not to-day, 
 to-morrow ; if not this time, next time. The 
 dice do not always turn up aces. Bracing myself, 
 therefore, to the occasion, I crept, as soon as 
 the house was quiet, to the window, a small, 
 square, open lattice, much cobwebbed, and partly 
 stuffed with hay. I looked out. The village 
 seemed to be asleep. The dark branches of trees 
 hung a few feet away, and almost obscured a 
 grey, cloudy sky, through which a wet moon 
 sailed drearily. Looking downwards, I could at 
 first see nothing; but as my eyes grew used to 
 the darkness I had only just put out my 
 rushlight I made out the stable-door and the 
 shadowy outlines of the lean-to roof. 
 
 I had hoped for this. I could now keep 
 watch, and learn at least whether Cocheforet 
 left before morning. If he did not I should 
 know he was still here. If he did, I should be 
 the better for seeing his features, and learning, 
 perhaps, other things that might be of use.
 
 AT THE GREEN PILLAR. 41 
 
 Making up my mind to be uncomfortable, I 
 sat down on the floor by the lattice, and began 
 a vigil that might last, . I knew, until morning. 
 It did last about an hour. At the end of that 
 time I heard whispering below, then footsteps; 
 then, as some persons turned a corner, a voice 
 speaking aloud and carelessly. I could not catch 
 the words spoken ; but the voice was a gentle- 
 man's, and its bold accents and masterful tone 
 left me in no doubt that the speaker was M. de 
 Cocheforet himself. Hoping to learn more, I 
 pressed my face nearer to the opening, and 
 I had just made out through the gloom two 
 figures one that of a tall, slight man, wearing 
 a cloak, the other, I thought, a woman's, in a 
 sheeny white dress when a thundering rap on 
 the door of my garret made me spring back a 
 yard from the lattice, and lie down hurriedly on 
 my couch. The noise was repeated. 
 
 "Well?" I cried, cursing the untimely inter- 
 ruption. I was burning with anxiety to see more. 
 "What is it? What is the matter?" 
 
 The trapdoor was lifted a foot or more. The 
 landlord thrust up his head.
 
 42 UNDER THE RED ROBE, 
 
 " You called, did you not ? " he asked. He 
 held up a rushlight, which illumined half the 
 room and lit up his grinning face. 
 
 " Called at this hour of the night, you fool ? " 
 I answered angrily. " No ! I did not call. Go 
 to bed, man ! " 
 
 But he remained on the ladder, gaping stupidly. 
 
 " I heard you," he said. 
 
 " Go to bed ! You are drunk ! " I answered, 
 sitting up. "I tell you I did not call." 
 
 " Oh, very well," he answered slowly. " And 
 you do not want anything?" 
 
 " Nothing except to be left alone ! " I replied 
 sourly. 
 
 "Umph!" he said. "Good-night!" 
 
 " Good-night ! Good-night ! " I answered, with 
 what patience I might. The tramp of the horse's 
 hoofs as it was led out of the stable was in 
 my ear at the moment. " Good-night ! " I con- 
 tinued feverishly, hoping he would still retire 
 in time, and I have a chance to look out. " I 
 want to sleep." 
 
 " Good," he said, with a broad grin. " But 
 it is early yet, and you have plenty of time."
 
 AT THE GREEN PILLAR. 43 
 
 And then, at last, he slowly let down the trap- 
 door, and I heard him chuckle as he went down 
 the ladder. 
 
 Before he reached the bottom I was at the 
 window. The woman whom I had seen still 
 stood below, in the same place; and beside her 
 a man in a peasant's dress, holding a lanthorn. 
 But the man, the man I wanted to see was no 
 longer there. And it was evident that he was 
 gone; it was evident that the others no longer 
 feared me, for while I gazed the landlord came 
 out to them with another lanthorn, and said 
 something to the lady, and she looked up at my 
 window and laughed. 
 
 It was a warm night, and she wore nothing 
 over her white dress. I could see her tall, 
 shapely figure and shining eyes, and the firm 
 contour of her beautiful face; which, if any 
 fault might be found with it, erred in being too 
 regular. She looked like a woman formed by 
 nature to meet dangers and difficulties ; and even 
 here, at midnight, in the midst of these desperate 
 men, she seemed in place. It was possible that 
 under her queenly exterior, and behind the con-
 
 44 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 temptuous laugh with which she heard the land- 
 lord's story, there lurked a woman's soul capable 
 of folly and tenderness. But no outward sign 
 betrayed its presence. 
 
 I scanned her very carefully; and secretly, if 
 the truth be told, I was glad to find Madame de 
 Cocheforet such a woman. I was glad that she 
 had laughed as she had that she was not a 
 little, tender, child-like woman, to be crushed by 
 the first pinch of trouble. For if I succeeded in 
 my task, if I but, pish ! Women, I said, were 
 all alike. She would find consolation quickly 
 enough. 
 
 I watched until the group broke up, and 
 Madame, with one of the men, went her way 
 round the corner of the inn, and out of my 
 sight. Then I retired to bed again, feeling more 
 than ever perplexed what course I should adopt. 
 It was clear that, to succeed, I must obtain 
 admission to the house. This was garrisoned, 
 unless my instructions erred, by two or three 
 old men-servants only, and as many women ; 
 since Madame, to disguise her husband's visits 
 the more easily, lived, and gave out that she
 
 AT THE GREEN" PILLAR. 4$ 
 
 lived, in great retirement. To seize her hus- 
 band at home, therefore, might be no impossible 
 task; though here, in the heart of the village, 
 a troop of horse might make the attempt, and 
 fail. 
 
 But how was I to gain admission to the house 
 a house guarded by quick-witted women, and 
 hedged in with all the precautions love could 
 devise ? That was the question ; and dawn found 
 me still debating it, still as far as ever from an 
 answer. With the first light I was glad to get 
 up. I thought that the fresh air might inspire 
 me, and I was tired, besides, of my stuffy closet. 
 I crept stealthily down the ladder, and managed 
 to pass unseen through the lower room, in which 
 several persons were snoring heavily. The outer 
 door was not fastened, and in a hand-turn I 
 stood in the street. 
 
 It was still so early that the trees stood up 
 black against the reddening sky, but the bough 
 upon the post before the door was growing 
 green," and in a few minutes the grey light 
 would be everywhere. Already even in the road- 
 way there was a glimmering of it; and as I
 
 46 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 stood at the corner of the house where I could 
 command both the front and the side on which 
 the stable opened looking greedily for any 
 trace of the midnight departure, my eyes de- 
 tected something light-coloured lying on the 
 ground. It was not more than two or three 
 paces from me, and I stepped to it and picked 
 it up curiously, hoping it might be a note. It 
 was not a note, however, but a tiny orange-col- 
 oured sachet, such as women carry in the bosom. 
 It was full of some faintly scented powder, and 
 bore on one side the initial " E," worked in 
 white silk; and was altogether a dainty little 
 toy, such as women love. 
 
 Doubtless Madame de Cocheforet had dropped 
 it in the night. I turned it over and over; and 
 then I put it away with a smile, thinking it 
 might be useful some time, and in some way. 
 I had scarcely done this, and turned with the 
 intention of exploring the street, when the door 
 behind me creaked on its leather hinges, and in 
 a moment my host stood at my elbow. 
 
 Evidently his suspicions were again aroused, 
 for from that time he managed to be with me,
 
 AT THE GREEN PILLAR. 47 
 
 on one pretence or another, until noon. More- 
 over, his manner grew each moment more churl- 
 ish, his hints plainer; until I could scarcely avoid 
 noticing the one or the other. About midday, 
 having followed me for the twentieth time into 
 the street, he came at last to the point, by ask- 
 ing me rudely if I did not need my horse. 
 
 "No," I said. "Why do you ask?" 
 
 " Because," he answered, with an ugly smile, 
 "this is not a very healthy place for strangers." 
 
 " Ah ! " I retorted. " But the border air suits 
 me, you see." 
 
 It was a lucky answer; for, taken with my 
 talk of the night before, it puzzled him, by again 
 suggesting that I was on the losing side, and 
 had my reasons for lying near Spain. Before 
 he had done scratching his head over it, the clat- 
 ter of hoofs broke the sleepy quiet of the vil- 
 lage street, and the lady I had seen the night 
 before rode quickly round the corner, and drew 
 her horse on to its haunches. Without looking 
 at me, she called to the innkeeper to come to 
 her stirrup. 
 
 He went. The moment his back was turned,
 
 48 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 I slipped away, and in a twinkling was hidden 
 by a house. Two or three glum-looking fellows 
 stared at me as I passed, but no one moved ; and 
 in two minutes I was clear of the village, and in 
 a half-worn track which ran through the wood, 
 and led if my ideas were right to the Cha- 
 teau. To discover the house and learn all that 
 was to be learned about its situation was my 
 most pressing need : even at the risk of a knife- 
 thrust, I was determined to satisfy it. 
 
 I had not gone two hundred paces along the 
 path before I heard the tread of a horse behind 
 me, and I had just time to hide myself before 
 Madame came up and rode by me, sitting her 
 horse gracefully, and with all the courage of a 
 northern woman. I watched her pass, and then, 
 assured by her presence that I was in the right 
 road, I hurried after her. Two minutes' walking 
 at speed brought me to a light wooden bridge 
 spanning a stream. I crossed this, and, the wood 
 opening, saw before me first a wide, pleasant 
 meadow, and beyond this a terrace. On the ter- 
 race, pressed upon on three sides by thick woods, 
 stood a grey mansion, with the corner tourelles,
 
 AT THE GREEN" PILLAR. 49 
 
 steep, high roofs, and round balconies that men 
 loved and built in the days of the first Francis. 
 
 It was of good size, but wore, I fancied, a 
 gloomy aspect. A great yew hedge, which seemed 
 to enclose a walk or bowling-green, hid the ground 
 floor of the east wing from view, while a formal 
 rose garden, stiff even in neglect, lay in front of 
 the main building. The west wing, whose lower 
 roofs fell gradually away to the woods, probably 
 contained the stables and granaries. 
 
 I stood a moment only, but I marked all, and 
 noted how the road reached the house, and which 
 windows were open to attack ; then I turned and 
 hastened back. Fortunately, I met no one be- 
 tween the house and the village, and was able to 
 enter the inn with an air of the most complete 
 innocence. 
 
 Short as had been my absence, I found things 
 altered there. Round the door loitered and chat- 
 tered three strangers stout, well-armed fellows, 
 whose bearing suggested a curious mixture of 
 smugness and independence. Half-a-dozen pack- 
 horses stood tethered to the post in front of the 
 house; and the landlord's manner, from being 
 

 
 SO UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 rude and churlish only, had grown perplexed and 
 almost timid. One of the strangers, I soon found, 
 supplied him with wine ; the others were travel- 
 ling merchants, who rode in the first one's com- 
 pany for the sake of safety. All were substantial 
 men from Tarbes solid burgesses; and I was 
 not long in guessing that my host, fearing what 
 might leak out before them, and particularly that 
 I might refer to the previous night's disturbance, 
 was on tenterhooks while they remained. 
 
 For a time this did not suggest anything to me. 
 But when we had all taken our seats for supper 
 there came an addition to the party. The door 
 opened, and the fellow whom I had seen the night 
 before with Madame de Cochefore"t entered, and 
 took a stool by the fire. I felt sure that he was 
 one of the servants at the Chateau ; and in a flash 
 his presence inspired me with the most feasible 
 plan for obtaining admission which I had yet hit 
 upon. I felt myself growing hot at the thought 
 it seemed so full of promise and of danger 
 and on the instant, without giving myself time 
 to think too much, I began to carry it into 
 effect.
 
 AT THE GREEK PILLAR. 5 1 
 
 I called for two or three bottles of better wine, 
 and, assuming a jovial air, passed it round the 
 table. When we had drunk a few glasses, I fell 
 to talking, and, choosing politics, took the side 
 of the Languedoc party and the malcontents, in 
 so reckless a fashion that the innkeeper was 
 beside himself at my imprudence. The mer- 
 chants, who belonged to the class with whom the 
 Cardinal was always most popular, looked first 
 astonished and then enraged. But I was not to 
 be checked. Hints and sour looks were lost upon 
 me. I grew more outspoken with every glass, I 
 drank to the Rochellois, I swore it would not be 
 long before they raised their heads again ; and at 
 last, while the innkeeper and his wife were en- 
 gaged lighting the lamp, I passed round the 
 bottle and called on all for a toast. 
 
 " I'll give you one to begin," I bragged noisily. 
 " A gentleman's toast ! A southern toast ! Here 
 is confusion to the Cardinal, and a health to all 
 who hate him ! " 
 
 " Mon Dieu ! " one of the strangers cried, 
 springing from his seat in a rage. " I am not 
 going to stomach that ! Is your house a common 
 
 E 2
 
 52 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 treason-hole," he continued, turning furiously on 
 the landlord, "that you suffer this?" 
 
 " Hoity-toity ! " I answered, coolly keeping my 
 seat. " What is all this ? Don't you relish my 
 toast, little man?" 
 
 " No nor you ! " he retorted hotly, " whoever 
 you may be ! " 
 
 "Then I will give you another," I answered, 
 with a hiccough. " Perhaps it will be more to 
 your taste. Here is the Duke of Orleans, and 
 may he soon be King!"
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE HOUSE IN THE WOOD. 
 
 MY words fairly startled the three men out of 
 their anger. For a moment they glared at me 
 as if they had seen a ghost. Then the wine- 
 merchant clapped his hand on the table. " That 
 is enough ! " he said, with a look at his com- 
 panions. " I think there can be no mistake 
 about that. As damnable treason as ever I 
 heard whispered ! I congratulate you, Sir, on 
 your boldness. As for you," he continued, turn- 
 ing with an ugly sneer to the landlord, "I 
 shall know now the company you keep ! I was 
 not aware that my wine wet whistles to such 
 a tune!" 
 
 But if he was startled, the innkeeper was 
 furious, seeing his character thus taken away; 
 and, being at no time a man of many words, he 
 vented his rage exactly in the way I wished. In 
 
 53
 
 54 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 a twinkling he raised such an uproar as can 
 scarcely be conceived. With a roar like a bull's 
 he ran headlong at the table, and overturned it 
 on the top of me. The woman saved the lamp 
 and fled with it into a corner, whence she and 
 the man from the Chateau watched the skirmish 
 in silence ; but the pewter cups and platters 
 flew spinning across the floor, while the table 
 pinned me to the ground among the ruins of my 
 stool. Having me at this disadvantage for at 
 first I made no resistance the landlord began 
 to belabour me with the first thing he snatched 
 up, and when I tried to defend myself cursed 
 me with each blow for a treacherous rogue and 
 a vagrant. Meanwhile, the three merchants, 
 delighted with the turn things had taken, skipped 
 round us laughing; and now hounded him on, 
 now bantered me with " How is that for the 
 Duke of Orleans ? " and " How now, traitor ? " 
 
 When I thought this had lasted long enough 
 or, to speak more plainly, when I could stand 
 the innkeeper's drubbing no longer I threw 
 him off by a great effort, and struggled to my 
 feet. But still, though the blood was trickling
 
 THE HOUSE IN THE WOOD. 55 
 
 down my face, I refrained from drawing my 
 sword. I caught up instead a leg of the stool 
 which lay handy, and, watching my opportunity, 
 dealt the landlord a shrewd blow under the ear, 
 which laid him out in a moment on the wreck 
 of his own table. 
 
 " Now ! " I cried, brandishing my new weapon, 
 which fitted the hand to a nicety, " come on ! 
 Come on, if you dare to strike a blow, you ped- 
 dling, truckling, huckstering knaves ! A fig for 
 you and your shaveling Cardinal ! " 
 
 The red-faced wine-merchant drew his sword 
 in a one-two. " Why, you drunken fool," he 
 said wrathfully, "put that stick down, or I will 
 spit you like a lark ! " 
 
 " Lark in your teeth ! " I cried, staggering as 
 if the wine were in my head. "Another word, 
 and I " 
 
 He made a couple of savage passes at me, but 
 in a twinkling his sword flew across the room. 
 
 " Voila ! " I shouted, lurching forward, as if I 
 had luck and not skill to thank for it. " Now 
 the next ! Come on, come on you white-livered 
 knaves ! " And, pretending a drunken frenzy,
 
 $6 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 I flung my weapon bodily amongst them, and 
 seizing the nearest, began to wrestle with him. 
 
 In a moment they all threw themselves upon 
 me, and, swearing copiously, bore me back to 
 the door. The wine-merchant cried breathlessly 
 to the woman to open it, and in a twinkling 
 they had me through it and half way across 
 the road. The one thing I feared was a knife- 
 thrust in the metee ; but I had to run that risk, 
 and the men were honest enough and, thinking 
 me drunk, indulgent. In a trice I found myself 
 on my back in the dirt, with my head humming ; 
 and heard the bars of the door fall noisily into 
 their places. 
 
 I got up and went to the door, and, to play 
 out my part, hammered on it frantically, crying 
 out to them to let me in. But the three trav- 
 ellers only jeered at me, and the landlord, com- 
 ing to the window, with his head bleeding, shook 
 his fist at me and cursed me for a mischief- 
 maker. 
 
 Baffled in this I retired to a log which lay 
 in the road a few paces from the house, and 
 sat down on it to await events. With torn
 
 THE HOUSE IN THE WOOD. $? 
 
 clothes and bleeding face, hatless and covered 
 with dirt, I was in scarcely better case than 
 my opponent. It was raining, too, and the 
 dripping branches swayed over my head. The 
 wind was in the south the coldest quarter. 
 I began to feel chilled and dispirited. If my 
 scheme failed, I had forfeited roof and bed to 
 no purpose, and placed future progress out of 
 the question. It was a critical moment. 
 
 But at last that happened for which I had 
 been looking. The door swung open a few 
 inches, and a man came noiselessly out; the 
 door was quickly barred behind him. He stood 
 a moment, waiting on the threshold and peering 
 into the gloom; and seemed to expect to be 
 attacked. Finding himself unmolested, however, 
 and all quiet, he went off steadily down the street 
 towards the Chateau. 
 
 I let a couple of minutes go by and then I 
 followed. I had no difficulty in hitting on the 
 track at the end of the street, but when I had 
 once plunged into the wood, I found myself in 
 darkness so intense that I soon strayed from 
 the path, and fell over roots, and tore my
 
 58 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 clothes with thorns, and lost my temper twenty 
 times before I found the path again. However, I 
 gained the bridge at last, and caught sight of a 
 light twinkling before me. To make for it across 
 the meadow and terrace was an easy task; yet 
 when I had reached the door and had hammered 
 upon it, I was in so sorry a plight that I sank 
 down, and had no need to play a part or pretend 
 to be worse than I was. 
 
 For a long time no one answered. The dark 
 house towering above me remained silent. 1 
 could hear, mingled with the throbbings of my 
 heart, the steady croaking of the frogs in a pond 
 near the stables ; but no other sound. In a frenzy 
 of impatience and disgust I stood up again and 
 hammered, kicking with my heels on the nail- 
 studded door, and crying out desperately, "A moi! 
 A moi ! " 
 
 Then, or a moment later, I heard a remote door 
 opened ; footsteps as of more than one person 
 drew near. I raised my voice and cried again, 
 "A moi!" 
 
 " Who is there ? " a voice asked. 
 
 "A gentleman in distress," I answered piteously>
 
 THE HOUSE IN THE WOOD. 59 
 
 moving my hands across the door. " For God's 
 sake open and let me in. I am hurt, and dying 
 of cold." 
 
 "What brings you here?" the voice asked 
 sharply. Despite its tartness, I fancied it was a 
 woman's. 
 
 " Heaven knows ! " I answered desperately. " I 
 cannot tell. They maltreated me at the inn, and 
 threw me into the street. I crawled away, and 
 have been wandering in the wood for hours. 
 Then I saw a light here." 
 
 Thereon, some muttering took place on the 
 other side of the door, to which I had my ear. 
 It ended in the bars being lowered. The door 
 swung partly open and a light shone out, dazzling 
 me. I tried to shade my eyes with my ringers, 
 and as I did so fancied I heard a murmur of pity. 
 But when I looked in under screen of my hand I 
 saw only one person the man who held the 
 light, and his aspect was so strange, so terrify- 
 ing, that, shaken as I was by fatigue, I recoiled 
 a step. 
 
 He was a tall and very thin man, meanly 
 dressed in a short scanty jacket and well-darned
 
 60 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 hose. Unable, for some reason, to bend his neck, 
 he carried his head with a strange stiffness. 
 
 And that head ! Never did living man show a 
 face so like death. His forehead was bald and 
 white, his cheek-bones stood out under the strained 
 skin, all the lower part of his face fell in, his jaws 
 receded, his cheeks were hollow, his lips and chin 
 were thin and fleshless. He seemed to have only 
 one expression a fixed grin. 
 
 While I stood looking at this formidable crea- 
 ture he made a quick motion to shut the door 
 again, smiling more widely. I had the presence 
 of mind to thrust in my foot, and, before he could 
 resent the act, a voice in the background cried : 
 " For shame, Clon ! Stand back. Stand back, do 
 you hear? I am afraid, Monsieur, that you are 
 hurt." 
 
 The last words were my welcome to that house ; 
 and, spoken at an hour and in circumstances so 
 gloomy, they made a lasting impression. Round 
 the hall ran a gallery, and this, the height of the 
 apartment, and the dark panelling seemed to swal- 
 low up the light. I stood within the entrance (as 
 it seemed to me) of a huge cave ; the skull-headed
 
 THE HOUSE IN THE WOOD. 61 
 
 porter had the air of an ogre. Only the voice 
 which greeted me dispelled the illusion. I turned 
 trembling towards the quarter whence it came, 
 and, shading my eyes, made out a woman's form 
 standing in a doorway under the gallery. A 
 second figure, which I took to be that of the 
 servant I had seen at the inn, loomed uncer- 
 tainly beside her. 
 
 I bowed in silence. My teeth were chattering. 
 I was faint without feigning, and felt a kind of 
 terror, hard to explain, at the sound of this 
 woman's voice. 
 
 "One of our people has told me about you," 
 she continued, speaking out of the darkness. " I 
 am sorry that this has happened to you here, but 
 I am afraid that you were indiscreet." 
 
 " I take all the blame, Madame," I answered 
 humbly. " I ask only shelter for the night." 
 
 "The time has not yet come when we cannot 
 give our friends that ! " she answered, with noble 
 courtesy. " When it does, Monsieur, we shall be 
 homeless ourselves." 
 
 I shivered, looking anywhere but at her; for I 
 had not sufficiently pictured this scene of my
 
 62 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 arrival I had not foreseen its details ; and now 
 I took part in it I felt a miserable meanness weigh 
 me down. I had never from the first liked the 
 work ! But, I had had no choice. And I had no 
 choice now. Luckily, the guise in which I came, 
 my fatigue, and wound were a sufficient mark, or 
 I should have incurred suspicion at once. For I 
 am sure that if ever in this world a brave man 
 wore a hang-dog air, or Gil de Berault fell below 
 himself, it was then and there on Madame de 
 Cocheforet's threshold, with he.r welcome sounding 
 in my ears. 
 
 One, I think, did suspect me. Clon, the porter, 
 continued to hold the door obstinately ajar and to 
 eye me with grinning spite, until his mistress, 
 with some sharpness, bade him drop the bars, 
 and conduct me to a room. 
 
 " Do you go also, Louis," she continued, speak- 
 ing to the man beside her, " and see this gentle- 
 man comfortably disposed. I am sorry," she 
 added, addressing me in the graceful tone she 
 had before used, and I thought I could see her 
 head bend in the darkness, " that our present cir- 
 cumstances do not permit us to welcome you more
 
 THE HOUSE IN THE WOOD. 6$ 
 
 fitly, Monsieur. But the troubles of the times 
 however, you will excuse what is lacking. Until 
 to-morrow, I have the honour to bid you good- 
 night." 
 
 " Good-night, Madame," I stammered, trem- 
 bling. I had not been able to distinguish her 
 face in the gloom of the doorway, but her voice, 
 her greeting, her presence, unmanned me. I was 
 troubled and perplexed; I had not spirit to kick 
 a dog. I followed the two servants from the hall 
 without heeding how we went ; nor was it until we 
 came to a full stop at a door in a whitewashed 
 corridor, and it was forced upon me that some- 
 thing was in question between my two conductors, 
 that I began to take notice. 
 
 Then I saw that one of them, Louis, wished to 
 lodge me here where we stood. The porter, on 
 the other hand, who held the keys, would not. 
 He did not speak a word, nor did the other 
 and this gave a queer ominous character to the 
 debate ; but he continued to jerk his head towards 
 the farther end of the corridor, and, at last, he 
 carried his point. Louis shrugged his shoulders, 
 and moved on, glancing askance at me; and I,
 
 64 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 not understanding the matter in debate, followed 
 the pair in silence. 
 
 We reached the end of the corridor, and there, 
 for an instant, the monster with the keys paused 
 and grinned at me. Then he turned into a narrow 
 passage on the left, and after following it for some 
 paces, halted before a small, strong door. His key 
 jarred in the lock, but he forced it shrieking round, 
 and with a savage flourish threw the door open. 
 
 I walked in and saw a mean, bare chamber 
 with barred windows. The floor was indifferently 
 clean, there was no furniture. The yellow light 
 of the lanthorn falling on the stained walls gave 
 the place the look of a dungeon. I turned to the 
 two men. " This is not a very good room," I said. 
 "And it feels damp. Have you no other?" 
 
 Louis looked doubtfully at his companion. But 
 the porter shook his head stubbornly. 
 
 " Why does he not speak ? " I asked with 
 impatience. 
 
 "He is dumb," Louis answered. 
 
 "Dumb!" I exclaimed. "But he hears." 
 
 " He has ears," the servant answered drily. 
 " But he has no tongue, Monsieur."
 
 THE HOUSE IN THE WOOD. 65 
 
 I shuddered. " How did he lose it ? " I asked. 
 
 " At Rochelle. He was a spy, and the King's 
 people took him the day the town surrendered. 
 They spared his life, but cut out his tongue." 
 
 "Ah ! " I said. I wished to say more, to be 
 natural, to show myself at my ease. But the 
 porter's eyes seemed to burn into me, and my 
 own tongue clove to the roof of my mouth. He 
 opened his lips and pointed to his throat with a 
 horrid gesture, and I shook my head and turned 
 from him " You can let me have some bed- 
 ding ? " I murmured hastily, for the sake of 
 saying something, and to escape. 
 
 " Of course, Monsieur," Louis answered. " I 
 will fetch some." 
 
 He went away, thinking doubtless that Clon 
 would stay with me. But after waiting a min- 
 ute the porter strode off also with the lanthorn, 
 leaving me to stand in the middle of the damp, 
 dark room, and reflect on the position. It was 
 plain that Clon suspected me. This prison-like 
 room, with its barred window at the back of the 
 house, and in the wing farthest from the stables, 
 proved so much. Clearly, he was a dangerous
 
 66 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 fellow, of whom I must beware. I had just 
 begun to wonder how Madame could keep such 
 a monster in her house, when I heard his step 
 returning. He came in, lighting Louis, who car- 
 ried a small pallet and a bundle of coverings. 
 
 The dumb man had, besides the lanthorn, a 
 bowl of water and a piece of rag in his hand. 
 He set them down, and going out again, fetched 
 in a stool. Then he hung up the lanthorn on 
 a nail, took the bowl and rag, and invited me to 
 sit down. 
 
 I was loth to let him touch me ; but he con- 
 tinued to stand over me, pointing and grinning 
 with dark persistence, and, rather than stand on 
 a trifle, I sat down at last, and gave him his way. 
 He bathed my head carefully enough, and I dare 
 say did it good; but I understood. I knew that 
 his only desire was to learn whether the cut was 
 real or a pretence. I began to fear him more 
 and more, and, until he was gone from the room, 
 dared scarcely lift my face, lest he should read 
 too much in it. 
 
 Alone, even, I felt uncomfortable. This seemed 
 so sinister a business, and so ill begun. I was
 
 THE HOUSE IN THE WOOD. 67 
 
 in the house. But Madame's frank voice haunted 
 me, and the dumb man's eyes, full of suspicion 
 and menace. When I presently got up and tried 
 my door, I found it locked. The room smelled 
 dank and close like a vault. I could not see 
 through the barred window; but I could hear 
 the boughs sweep it in ghostly fashion ; and I 
 guessed that it looked out where the wood grew 
 close to the walls of the house ; and that even in 
 the day the sun never peeped through it. 
 
 Nevertheless, tired and worn out, I slept at 
 last. When I awoke the room was full of grey 
 light, the door stood open, and Louis, looking 
 ashamed of himself, waited by my pallet with a 
 cup of wine in his hand, and some bread and 
 fruit on a platter. 
 
 " Will Monsieur be good enough to rise ? " 
 he said. " It is eight o'clock." 
 
 "Willingly," I answered tartly. " Now that the 
 door is unlocked." 
 
 He turned red. " It was an oversight," he 
 stammered. " Clon is accustomed to lock the 
 door, and he did it inadvertently, forgetting that 
 there was any one " 
 
 r 2
 
 68 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 " Inside ! " I said drily. 
 
 " Precisely, Monsieur." 
 
 "Ah!" I replied. "Well, I do not think the 
 oversight would please Madame de Cocheforet, 
 if she heard of it?" 
 
 " If Monsieur would have the kindness not 
 to " 
 
 " Mention it, my good fellow ? " I answered, 
 looking at him with meaning, as I rose. " No ; 
 but it must not occur again." 
 
 I saw that this man was not like Clon. He 
 had the instincts of the family servant, and freed 
 from the influences of darkness, felt ashamed of 
 his conduct. While he arranged my clothes, he 
 looked round the room with an air of distaste, 
 and muttered once or twice that the furniture of 
 the principal chambers was packed away. 
 
 " M. de Cocheforet is abroad, I think ? " I said, 
 as I dressed. 
 
 " And likely to remain there," the man answered 
 carelessly, shrugging his shoulders. " Monsieur 
 will doubtless have heard that he is in trouble. 
 In the meantime, the house is triste, and Mon- 
 sieur must overlook much, if he stays. Madame
 
 THE HOUSE IN THE WOOD. 69 
 
 lives retired, and the roads are ill-made and visi- 
 tors few." 
 
 " When the lion was ill the jackals left him," I 
 said. 
 
 Louis nodded. " It is true," he answered 
 simply. He made no boast or brag on his own 
 account, I noticed ; and it came home to me that 
 he was a faithful fellow, such as I love. I ques- 
 tioned him discreetly, and learned that he and 
 Clon and an older man who lived over the sta- 
 bles were the only male servants left of a great 
 household. Madame, her sister-in-law, and three 
 women completed the family. 
 
 It took me some time to repair my wardrobe, so 
 that I dare say it was nearly ten when I left my 
 dismal little room. I found Louis waiting in the 
 corridor, and he told me that Madame de Coche- 
 foret and Mademoiselle were in the rose-garden, 
 and would be pleased to receive me. I nodded, 
 and he guided me through several dim passages 
 to a parlour with an open door, through which 
 the sun shone in gaily. Cheered by the morning 
 air and this sudden change to pleasantness and 
 life, I stepped lightly out.
 
 70 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 The two ladies were walking up and down 
 a wide path which bisected the garden. The 
 weeds grew rankly in the gravel underfoot, the 
 rose-bushes which bordered the walk thrust their 
 branches here and there in untrained freedom, 
 a dark yew hedge which formed the background 
 bristled with rough shoots and sadly needed trim- 
 ming. But I did not see any of these things then. 
 The grace, the noble air, the distinction of the two 
 women who paced slowly to meet me and who 
 shared all these qualities greatly as they differed 
 in others left me no power to notice trifles. 
 
 Mademoiselle was a head shorter than her belle 
 saur a slender woman and petite, with a beauti- 
 ful face and a fair complexion. She walked with 
 dignity, but beside Madame's stately figure she 
 seemed almost childish. And it was character- 
 istic of the two that Mademoiselle as they drew 
 near to me regarded me with sorrowful attention, 
 Madame with a grave smile. 
 
 I bowed low. They returned the salute. 
 " This is my sister," Madame de Cocheforet said, 
 with a slight, a very slight air of condescension. 
 " Will you please to tell me your name, Monsieur ? "
 
 I am M. de Barthe, a gentleman of Normandy."
 
 THE HOUSE IN THE WOOD. 7 1 
 
 "I am M. de Barthe, a gentleman of Nor- 
 mandy," I said, taking the name of my mother. 
 My own, by a possibility, might be known. 
 
 Madame's face wore a puzzled look. " I do not 
 know your name, I think," she said thoughtfully. 
 Doubtless she was going over in her mind all 
 the names with which conspiracy had made her 
 familiar. 
 
 "That is my misfortune, Madame," I said 
 humbly. 
 
 " Nevertheless I am going to scold you," she 
 rejoined, still eyeing me with some keenness. " I 
 am glad to see that you are none the worse for 
 your adventure but others may be. And you 
 should have borne that in mind." 
 
 "I do not think that I hurt the man seriously," 
 I stammered. 
 
 " I do not refer to that," she answered coldly. 
 "You know, or should know, that we are in dis- 
 grace here ; that the Government regards us 
 already with an evil eye, and that a very small 
 thing would lead them to garrison the village and 
 perhaps oust us from the little the wars have left 
 us. You should have known this and considered
 
 /2 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 it," she continued. " Whereas I do not say that 
 you are a braggart, M. de Barthe. But on this 
 one occasion you seem to have played the part 
 of one." 
 
 " Madame, I did not think," I stammered. 
 
 "Want of thought causes much evil," she an- 
 swered, smiling. " However, I have spoken, and 
 we trust that while you stay with us you will 
 be more careful. For the rest, Monsieur," she 
 continued graciously, raising her hand to prevent 
 me speaking, " we do not know why you are here, 
 or what plans you are pursuing. And we do not 
 wish to know. It is enough that you are of our 
 side. This house is at your service as long as you 
 please to use it. And if we can aid you in any 
 other way we will do so." 
 
 " Madame ! " I exclaimed ; and there I stopped. 
 I could not say any more. The rose-garden, with 
 its air of neglect, the shadow of the quiet house 
 that fell across it, the great yew hedge which 
 backed it, and was the pattern of one under 
 which I had played in childhood all had points 
 that pricked me. But the women's kindness, 
 their unquestioning confidence, the noble air of
 
 THE HOUSE IN THE WOOD. 73 
 
 hospitality which moved them! Against these 
 and their placid beauty in its peaceful frame I 
 had no shield. I turned away, and feigned to 
 be overcome by gratitude. " I have no words 
 to thank you!" I muttered presently. "I am 
 a little shaken this morning. I pardon me." 
 
 "We will leave you for a while," Mademoiselle 
 de Cocheforet said, in gentle, pitying tones. 
 "The air will revive you. Louis shall call you 
 when we go to dinner, M. de Barthe. Come, 
 Elise." 
 
 I bowed low to hide my face, and they nodded 
 pleasantly not looking closely at me as they 
 walked by me to the house. I watched the two 
 gracious, pale-robed figures until the doorway 
 swallowed them, and then I walked away to a 
 quiet corner where the shrubs grew highest and 
 the yew hedge threw its deepest shadow, and I 
 stood to think. 
 
 They were strange thoughts, I remember. If 
 the oak can think at the moment the wind uproots 
 it, or the gnarled thorn-bush when the landslip 
 tears it from the slope, they may have such 
 thoughts. I stared at the leaves, at the rotting
 
 74 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 blossoms, into the dark cavities of the hedge ; 
 I stared mechanically, dazed and wondering. 
 What was the purpose for which I was here ? 
 What was the worlc I had come to do ? Above 
 all, how my God ! how was I to do it in the 
 face of these helpless women, who trusted me 
 who opened their house to me ? Clon had not 
 frightened me, nor the loneliness of the leagued 
 village, nor the remoteness of this corner where 
 the dread Cardinal seemed a name, and the King's 
 writ ran slowly, and the rebellion, long quenched 
 elsewhere, still smouldered. But Madame's pure 
 faith, the younger woman's tenderness how was 
 I to face these ? 
 
 I cursed the Cardinal, I cursed the English 
 fool who had brought me to this, I cursed the 
 years of plenty and scarceness and the Quartier 
 Marais, and Zaton's, where I had lived like a 
 pig, and 
 
 A touch fell on my arm. I turned. It was 
 Clon. How he had stolen up so quietly, how 
 long he had been at my elbow, I could not tell. 
 But his eyes gleamed spitefully in their deep 
 sockets, and he laughed with his fleshless lips;
 
 THE HOUSE IN THE WOOD. 7$ 
 
 and I hated him. In the daylight the man 
 looked more like a death's-head than ever. I 
 fancied I read in his face that he knew my 
 secret, and I flashed into rage at sight of 
 him. 
 
 "What is it?" I cried, with another oath. 
 " Don't lay your corpse-claws on me ! " 
 
 He mowed at me, and, bowing with ironical 
 politeness, pointed to the house. " Is Madame 
 served ? " I said impatiently, crushing down my 
 anger. " Is that what you mean, fool ? " 
 
 He nodded. 
 
 " Very well," I retorted. " I can find my way, 
 then. You may go ! " 
 
 He fell behind, and I strode back through the 
 sunshine and flowers, and along the grass-grown 
 paths, to the door by which I had come. I 
 walked fast, but his shadow kept pace with me, 
 driving out the strange thoughts in which I had 
 been indulging. Slowly but surely it darkened 
 my mood. After all, this was a little, little place ; 
 the people who lived here I shrugged my 
 shoulders. France, power, pleasure, life lay yon- 
 der in the great city. A boy might wreck himself
 
 /6 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 here for a fancy ; a man of the world, never. 
 When I entered the room, where the two ladies 
 stood waiting for me by the table, I was myself 
 again. 
 
 " Clon made you understand, then ? " the 
 younger woman said kindly. 
 
 " Yes, Mademoiselle," I answered. On which 
 I saw the two smile at one another, and I added : 
 " He is a strange creature. I wonder you can 
 bear to have him near you." 
 
 " Poor man ! You do not know his story ? " 
 Madame said. 
 
 " I have heard something of it," I answered. 
 " Louis told me." 
 
 "Well, I do shudder at him, sometimes," she 
 replied, in a low voice. " He has suffered 
 and horribly, and for us. But I wish it had been 
 on any other service. Spies are necessary things, 
 but one does not wish to have to do with them ! 
 Anything in the nature of treachery is so hor- 
 rible." 
 
 "Quick, Louis! the cognac, if you have any 
 there ! " Mademoiselle exclaimed. " I am sure 
 you are still feeling ill, Monsieur."
 
 THE HOUSE IN THE WOOD. 77 
 
 " No, I thank you," I muttered hoarsely, 
 making an effort to recover myself. " I am 
 quite well. It was an old wound that sometimes 
 touches me."
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MADAME AND MADEMOISELLE. 
 
 To be frank, however, it was not the old wound 
 that touched me so nearly, but Madame's words; 
 which, finishing what Clon's sudden appearance 
 in the garden had begun, went a long way towards 
 hardening me and throwing me back into myself. 
 I saw with bitterness what I had perhaps for- 
 gotten for a moment how great was the chasm 
 which separated me from these women ; how im- 
 possible it was we could long think alike ; how far 
 apart in views, in experience, in aims we were. 
 And while I made a mock in my heart of their 
 high-flown sentiments or thought I did I 
 laughed no less at the folly which had led me 
 to dream, even for a moment, that I could, at my 
 age, go back go back and risk all for a whim, 
 a scruple, the fancy of a lonely hour. 
 
 I dare say something of this showed in my face; 
 78
 
 MADAME AND MADEMOISELLE. 79 
 
 for Madame's eyes mirrored a dim reflection of 
 trouble as she looked at me, and Mademoiselle ate 
 nervously and at random. At any rate, I fancied 
 so, and I hastened to compose myself; and the 
 two, in pressing upon me the simple dainties of 
 the table, soon forgot, or appeared to forget, the 
 incident. 
 
 Yet in spite of this contretemps, that first meal 
 had a strange charm for me. The round table 
 whereat we dined was spread inside the open door 
 which led to the garden, so that the October sun- 
 shine fell full on the spotless linen and quaint old 
 plate, and the fresh balmy air filled the room with 
 the scent of sweet herbs. Louis served us with 
 the mien of major-domo, and set on each dish as 
 though it had been a peacock or a mess of orto- 
 lans. The woods provided the larger portion of 
 our meal ; the garden did its part ; the confections 
 Mademoiselle had cooked with her own hand. 
 
 By-and-bye, as the meal went on, as Louis trod 
 to and fro across the polished floor, and the last 
 insects of summer hummed sleepily outside, and 
 the two gracious faces continued to smile at me 
 out of the gloom for the ladies sat with their
 
 80 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 backs to the door I began to dream again. I 
 began to sink again into folly that was half 
 pleasure, half pain. The fury of the gaming- 
 house and the riot of Zaton's seemed far away. 
 The triumphs of the fencing-room even they 
 grew cheap and tawdry. I thought of existence 
 as one outside it. I balanced this against that, 
 and wondered whether, after all, the red soutane 
 were so much better than the homely jerkin, or 
 the fame of a day than ease and safety. 
 
 And life at Cocheforet was all after the pattern 
 of this dinner. Each day, I might almost say 
 each meal, gave rise to the same sequence of 
 thoughts. In Clon's presence, or when some 
 word of Madame's, unconsciously harsh, reminded 
 me of the distance between us, I was myself. At 
 other times, in face of this peaceful and intimate 
 life, which was only rendered possible by the 
 remoteness of the place and the peculiar circum- 
 stances in which the ladies stood, I felt a strange 
 weakness. The loneliness of the woods that en- 
 circled the house, and here and there afforded a 
 distant glimpse of snow-clad peaks; the absence 
 of any link to bind me to the old life, so that at
 
 MADAME AND MADEMOISELLE. Si 
 
 intervals it seemed unreal ; the remoteness of the 
 great world, all tended to sap my will and weaken 
 the purpose which had brought me to this place. 
 
 On the fourth day after my coming, however, 
 something happened to break the spell. It chanced 
 that I came late to dinner, and entered the room 
 hastily and without ceremony, expecting to find 
 Madame and her sister already seated. Instead, 
 I found them talking in a low tone by the open 
 door, with every mark of disorder in their appear- 
 ance ; while Clon and Louis stood at a little dis- 
 tance with downcast faces and perplexed looks. 
 
 I had time to see all this, and then my en- 
 trance wrought a sudden change. Clon and Louis 
 sprang to attention ; Madame and her sister came 
 to the table and sat down, and made a shallow 
 pretence of being at their ease. But Mademoi- 
 selle's face was pale, her hand trembled; and 
 though Madame's greater self-command enabled 
 her to carry off the matter better, I saw that she 
 was not herself. Once or twice she spoke harshly 
 to Louis ; she fell at other times into a brown 
 study ; and when she thought I was not watching 
 her, her face wore a look of deep anxiety.
 
 82 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 I wondered what all this meant; and I won- 
 dered more when, after the meal, the two walked 
 in the garden for an hour with Clon. Mademoi- 
 selle came from this interview alone, and I was 
 sure that she had been weeping. Madame and 
 the dark porter stayed outside some time longer ; 
 then she, too, came in, and disappeared. 
 
 Clon did not return with her, and when I went 
 into the garden five minutes later Louis also had 
 vanished. Save for two women who sat sewing 
 at an upper window, the house seemed to be 
 deserted. Not a sound broke the afternoon still- 
 ness of room or garden, and yet I felt that more 
 was happening in this silence than appeared on 
 the surface. I began to grow curious suspi- 
 cious; and presently slipped out myself by way 
 of the stables, and, skirting the wood at the 
 back of the house, gained with a little trouble 
 the bridge which crossed the stream and led to 
 the village. 
 
 Turning round at this point, I could see the 
 house, and I moved a little aside into the under- 
 wood, and stood gazing at the windows, trying 
 to unriddle the matter. It was not likely that
 
 MADAME AND MADEMOISELLE. 83 
 
 M. de Cocheforet would repeat his visit so soon; 
 and, besides, the women's emotions had been 
 those of pure dismay and grief, unmixed with 
 any of the satisfaction to which such a meeting, 
 though snatched by stealth, would give rise. I 
 discarded my first thought, therefore that he 
 had returned unexpectedly and I sought for 
 another solution. 
 
 But none was on the instant forthcoming. The 
 windows remained obstinately blind, no figures 
 appeared on the terrace, the garden lay deserted, 
 and without life. My departure had not, as I half 
 expected it would, drawn the secret into light. 
 
 I watched a while, at times cursing my own 
 meanness; but the excitement of the moment 
 and the quest tided me over that. Then I de- 
 termined to go down into the village and see 
 whether anything was moving there. I had been 
 down to the inn once, and had been received 
 half sulkily, half courteously, as a person privi- 
 leged at the great house, and therefore to be 
 accepted. It would not be thought odd if I 
 went again; and after a moment's thought, 
 I started down the track. 
 
 G 2
 
 84 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 This, where it ran through the wood, was so 
 densely shaded that the sun penetrated to it little, 
 and in patches only. A squirrel stirred at times, 
 sliding round a trunk, or scampering across the 
 dry leaves. Occasionally a pig grunted and 
 moved farther into the wood. But the place 
 was very quiet, and I do not know how it was 
 that I surprised Clon instead of being surprised 
 by him. 
 
 He was walking along the path before me with 
 his eyes on the ground walking so slowly, and 
 with his lean frame so bent that I might have 
 supposed him ill if I had not remarked the 
 steady movement of his head from right to left, 
 and the alert touch with which he now and again 
 displaced a clod of earth or a cluster of leaves. 
 By-and-bye he rose stiffly, and looked round him 
 suspiciously; but by that time I had slipped be- 
 hind a trunk, and was not to be seen ; and after 
 a brief interval he went back to his task, stoop- 
 ing over it more closely, if possible, than before, 
 and applying himself with even greater care. 
 
 By that time I had made up my mind that he 
 was tracking some one. But whom ? I could not
 
 MADAME AND MADEMOISELLE. 85 
 
 make a guess at that. I only knew that the 
 plot was thickening, and began to feel the eager- 
 ness of the chase. Of course, if the matter had 
 not to do with Cocheforet, it was no affair of 
 mine; but though it seemed unlikely that any- 
 thing could bring him back so soon, he might 
 still be at the bottom of this. And, besides, I 
 felt a natural curiosity. When Clon at last im- 
 proved his pace, and went on to the village, I took 
 up his task. I called to mind all the wood-lore 
 I had ever known, and scanned trodden mould 
 and crushed leaves with eager eyes. But in vain. 
 I could make nothing of it at all, and rose at 
 last with an aching back and no advantage. 
 
 I did not go on to the village after that, but 
 returned to the house, where I found Madame 
 pacing the garden. She looked up eagerly on 
 hearing my step ; and I was mistaken if she 
 was not disappointed if she had not been ex- 
 pecting some one else. She hid the feeling 
 bravely, however, and met me with a careless 
 word; but she turned to the house more than 
 once while we talked, and she seemed to be all 
 the while on the watch, and uneasy. I was not
 
 86 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 surprised when Clon's figure presently appeared 
 in the doorway, and she left me abruptly, and 
 went to him. I only felt more certain than 
 before that there was something strange on foot. 
 What it was, and whether it had to do with M. de 
 Cocheforet, I could not tell. But there it was, 
 and I grew more curious the longer I remained 
 alone. 
 
 She came back to me presently, looking 
 thoughtful and a trifle downcast. "That was 
 Clon, was it not ? " I said, studying her face. 
 
 "Yes," she answered. She spoke absently, 
 and did not look at me. 
 
 " How does he talk to you ? " I asked, speak- 
 ing a trifle curtly. 
 
 As I intended, my tone roused her. "By 
 signs," she said. 
 
 'Is he is he not a little mad?" I ventured. 
 I wanted to make her talk and forget herself. 
 
 She looked at me with sudden keenness, then 
 dropped her eyes. 
 
 "You do not like him?" she said, a note of 
 challenge in her voice. "I have noticed that, 
 Monsieur."
 
 MADAME AND MADEMOISELLE. 87 
 
 " I think he does not like me," I replied. 
 
 " He is less trustful than we are," she an- 
 swered naively. " It is natural that he should 
 be. He has seen more of the world." 
 
 That silenced me for a moment, but she did 
 not seem to notice it. " I was looking for him 
 a little while ago, and I could not find him," I 
 said, after a pause. 
 
 "He has been into the village," she answered. 
 
 I longed to pursue the matter farther; but 
 though she seemed to entertain no suspicion of 
 me, I dared not run the risk. I tried her, instead, 
 on another tack. " Mademoiselle de Cocheforet 
 does not seem very well to-day ? " I said. 
 
 "No?" she answered carelessly. "Well, now 
 you speak of it, I do not think she is. She is 
 often anxious about my husband." 
 
 She uttered the last two words with a little 
 hesitation, and looked at me quickly when she 
 had spoken them. We were sitting at the mo- 
 ment on a stone seat which had the wall of the 
 house for a back; and, fortunately, I was toying 
 with the branch of a creeping plant that hung 
 over it, so that she could not see more than the
 
 88 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 side of my face. For I knew that it altered. 
 Over my voice, however, I had more control, and 
 I hastened to answer, "Yes, I suppose so," as 
 innocently as possible. 
 
 "He is at Bosost in Spain. You knew that, 
 I conclude ? " she said, with a certain sharpness. 
 And she looked me in the face again very 
 directly. 
 
 "Yes," I answered, beginning to tremble. 
 
 " I suppose you have heard, too, that he 
 that he sometimes crosses the border ? " she con- 
 tinued, in a low voice, but with a certain ring of 
 insistence in her tone. " Or, if you have not 
 heard it, you guess it ? " 
 
 I was in a quandary, and grew, in one second, 
 hot all over. Uncertain what amount of knowl- 
 edge I ought to admit, I took refuge in gallantry. 
 " I should be surprised if he did not," I answered, 
 with a bow, " being, as he is, so close, and having 
 such an inducement to return, Madame." 
 
 She drew a long, shivering sigh at the 
 thought of his peril, I fancied, and sat back 
 against the wall. Nor did she say any more, 
 though I heard her sigh again. In a moment
 
 MADAME AND MADEMOISELLE. 89 
 
 she rose. "The afternoons are growing chilly," 
 she said ; " I will go in and see how Mademoiselle 
 is. Sometimes she does not come to supper. If 
 she cannot descend this evening, I am afraid 
 you must excuse me too, Monsieur." 
 
 I said what was right, and watched her go in ; 
 and, as I did so, I loathed my errand, and the 
 mean contemptible curiosity which it had planted 
 in my mind, more than at any former time. 
 These women I could find it in my heart to 
 hate them for their frankness, for their foolish 
 confidence, and the silly trustfulness that made 
 them so easy a prey ! 
 
 Nom de Dieu ! What did the woman mean by 
 telling me all this ? To meet me in such a way, 
 to disarm one by such methods, was to take an 
 unfair advantage. It put a vile ay, the vilest 
 aspect, on the work I had to do. 
 
 Yet it was very odd ! What could M. de 
 Cocheforet mean by returning so soon, if M. de 
 Cocheforet was here ? And, on the other hand, 
 if it was not his unexpected presence that had so 
 upset the house, what was the secret? Whom 
 had Clon been tracking? And what was the
 
 90 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 cause of Madame's anxiety ? In a few minutes I 
 began to grow curious again ; and, as the ladies 
 did not appear at supper, I had leisure to give my 
 brain full license, and in the course of an hour 
 thought of a hundred keys to the mystery. But 
 none exactly fitted the lock, or laid open the 
 secret. 
 
 A false alarm that evening helped to puzzle me 
 still more. I was sitting, about an hour after 
 supper, on the same seat in the garden I had 
 my cloak and was smoking when Madame 
 came out like a ghost, and, without seeing me, 
 flitted away through the darkness toward the sta- 
 bles. For a moment I hesitated, then I followed 
 her. She went down the path and round the 
 stables, and so far I understood; but when she 
 had in this way gained the rear of the west wing, 
 she took a track through the thicket to the east of 
 the house again, and so came back to the garden. 
 This gained, she came up the path and went in 
 through the parlour door, and disappeared after 
 making a clear circuit of the house, and not once 
 pausing or looking to right or left ! I confess I 
 was fairly baffled. I sank back on the seat I had
 
 MADAME AND MADEMOISELLE. 91 
 
 left, and said to myself that this was the lamest 
 of all conclusions. I was sure that she had ex- 
 changed no word with any one. I was equally 
 sure that she had not detected my presence 
 behind her. Why, then, had she made this 
 strange promenade, alone, unprotected, an hour 
 after nightfall ? No dog had bayed, no one had 
 moved, she had not once paused, or listened, like 
 a person expecting a rencontre. I could not make 
 it out. And I came no nearer to solving it, though 
 I lay awake an hour beyond my usual time. 
 
 In the morning neither of the ladies descended 
 to dinner, and I heard that Mademoiselle was not 
 so well. After a lonely meal, therefore I missed 
 them more than I should have supposed I re- 
 tired to my favourite seat, and fell to meditating. 
 
 The day was fine, and the garden pleasant. 
 Sitting there with my eyes on the old-fashioned 
 herb-beds, with the old-fashioned scents in the air, 
 and the dark belt of trees bounding the view on 
 either side, I could believe that I had been out of 
 Paris not three weeks, but three months. The 
 quiet lapped me round. I could fancy that I had 
 never loved anything else. The wood-doves cooed
 
 Q2 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 in the stillness; occasionally the harsh cry of a 
 jay jarred the silence. It was an hour after noon, 
 and hot. I think I nodded. 
 
 On a sudden, as if in a dream, I saw Clon's 
 face peering at me round the angle of the parlour 
 door. He looked, and in a moment withdrew, 
 and I heard whispering. The door was gently 
 closed. Then all was still again. 
 
 But I was wide awake now, and thinking hard. 
 Clearly the people of the house wished to assure 
 themselves that I was asleep and safely out of the 
 way. As clearly, it was to my interest to know 
 what was passing. Giving way to the temptation, 
 I rose quietly, and, stooping below the level of 
 the windows, slipped round the east end of the 
 house, passing between it and the great yew 
 hedge. Here I found all still, and no one -stir- 
 ring. So, keeping a wary eye about me, I went 
 on round the house reversing the route which 
 Madame had taken the night before until I 
 gained the rear of the stables. Here I had 
 scarcely paused a second to scan the ground 
 before two persons came out of the stable-court. 
 They were Madame and the porter.
 
 MADAME AND MADEMOISELLE. 93 
 
 They stood a brief while outside, and looked 
 up and down. Then Madame said something to 
 the man, and he nodded. Leaving him standing 
 where he was, she crossed the grass with a quick, 
 light step, and vanished among the trees. 
 
 In a moment my mind was made up to follow ; 
 and, as Clon turned at once and went in, I was 
 able to do so before it was too late. Bending low 
 among the shrubs, I ran hot-foot to the point 
 where Madame had entered the wood. Here I 
 found a narrow path, and ran nimbly along it, and 
 presently saw her grey robe fluttering among the 
 trees before me. It only remained to keep out of 
 her sight and give her no chance of discovering 
 that she was followed; and this I set myself to 
 do. Once or twice she glanced round, but the 
 wood was of beech, the light which passed 
 between the leaves was mere twilight, and my 
 clothes were dark-coloured. I had every advan- 
 tage, therefore, and little to fear as long as I 
 could keep her in view and still remain myself at 
 such a distance that the rustle of my tread would 
 not disturb her. 
 
 Assured that she was on her way to meet her
 
 94 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 husband, whom my presence kept from the house, 
 I felt that the crisis had come at last ; and I grew 
 more excited with each step I took. True, I de- 
 tested the task of watching her : it filled me with 
 peevish disgust. But in proportion as I hated it I 
 was eager to have it done and be done with it, 
 and succeed, and stuff my ears and begone from 
 the scene. When she presently came to the verge 
 of the beech wood, and, entering a little open 
 clearing, seemed to loiter, I went cautiously. 
 This, I thought, must be the rendezvous; and I 
 held back warily, looking to see him step out of 
 the thicket 
 
 But he did not, and by-and-bye she quickened 
 her pace. She crossed the open and entered a 
 wide ride cut through a low, dense wood of alder 
 and dwarf oak a wood so closely planted, and 
 so intertwined with hazel and elder and box that 
 the branches rose like a solid wall, twelve feet 
 high, on either side of the track. 
 
 Down this she passed, and I stood and watched 
 her go ; for I dared not follow. The ride stretched 
 away as straight as a line for four or five hundred 
 yards, a green path between green walls. To enter
 
 MADAME AND MADEMOISELLE. 95 
 
 it was to be immediately detected, if she turned ; 
 while the thicket itself permitted no passage. I 
 stood baffled and raging, and watched her pass 
 along. It seemed an age before she at last 
 reached the end, and, turning sharply to the right, 
 was in an instant gone from sight. 
 
 I waited then no longer. I started off, and, 
 running as lightly and quietly as I could, I sped 
 down the green alley. The sun shone into it, the 
 trees kept off the wind, and between heat and 
 haste, I sweated finely. But the turf was soft, 
 and the ground fell slightly, and in little more 
 than a minute I gained the end. Fifty yards 
 short of the turning I stayed myself, and, 
 stealing on, looked cautiously the way she had 
 gone. 
 
 I saw before me a second ride, the twin of the 
 other, and a hundred and fifty paces down it her 
 grey figure tripping on between the green hedges. 
 I stood and took breath, and cursed the wood and 
 the heat and Madame's warines's. We must have 
 come a league or two-thirds of a league, at least. 
 How far did the man expect her to plod to meet 
 him ? I began to grow angry. There is modera-
 
 96 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 tion even in the cooking of eggs, and this wood 
 might stretch into Spain, for all I knew! 
 
 Presently she turned the corner and was gone 
 again, and I had to repeat my manoeuvre. This 
 time, surely, I should find a change. But no ! 
 Another green ride stretched away into the depths 
 of the forest, with hedges of varying shades 
 here light and there dark, as hazel and elder, or 
 thorn, and yew and box prevailed but always 
 high and stiff and impervious. Half-way down the 
 ride Madame' s figure tripped steadily on, the only 
 moving thing in sight. I wondered, stood, and, 
 when she vanished, followed only to find that 
 she had entered another track, a little narrower, 
 but in every other respect alike. 
 
 And so it went on for quite half an hour. 
 Sometimes Madame turned to the right, some- 
 times to the left. The maze seemed to be end- 
 less. Once or twice I wondered whether she had 
 lost her way, and was merely seeking to return. 
 But her steady, purposeful gait, her measured 
 pace, forbade the idea. I noticed, too, that she 
 seldom looked behind her rarely to right or left. 
 Once the ride down which she passed was car-
 
 MADAME AND MADEMOISELLE. 97 
 
 peted not with green, but with the silvery, sheeny 
 leaves of some creeping plant that in the distance 
 had a shimmer like that of water at evening. As 
 she trod this, with her face to the low sun, her tall 
 grey figure had a pure air that for the moment 
 startled me she looked unearthly. Then I swore 
 in scorn of myself, and at the next corner I had 
 my reward. She was no longer walking on. She 
 had stopped, I found, and seated herself on a 
 fallen tree that lay in the ride. 
 
 For some time I stood in ambush watching her, 
 and with each minute I grew more impatient. At 
 last I began to doubt to have strange thoughts. 
 The green walls were growing dark. The sun 
 was sinking ; a sharp, white peak, miles and miles 
 away, which closed the vista of the ride began to 
 flush and colour rosily. Finally, but not before 
 I had had leisure to grow uneasy, she stood up 
 and walked on more slowly. I waited, as usual, 
 until the next turning hid her. Then I hastened 
 after her, and, warily passing round the corner 
 came face to face with her! 
 
 I knew all in a moment that she had fooled 
 me, tricked me, lured me away. Her face was 
 
 H
 
 98 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 white with scorn, her eyes blazed ; her figure, as 
 she confronted me, trembled with anger and infi- 
 nite contempt. 
 
 " You spy ! " she cried. " You hound ! You 
 gentleman ! Oh, mon Dieu ! if you are one of 
 us if you are really not canaille we shall pay 
 for this some day ! We shall pay a heavy reck- 
 oning in the time to come ! I did not think," she 
 continued her every syllable like the lash of 
 a whip "that there was anything so vile as 
 you in this world ! " 
 
 I stammered something I do not know what. 
 Her words burned into me into my heart ! Had 
 she been a man, I would have struck her dead ! 
 
 "You thought you deceived me yesterday," 
 she continued, lowering her tone, but with no 
 lessening of the passion and contempt which 
 curled her lip and gave fulness to her voice. 
 " You plotter ! You surface trickster ! You 
 thought it an easy task to delude a woman 
 you find yourself deluded. God give you shame 
 that you may suffer ! " she continued mercilessly. 
 " You talked of Clon, but Clon beside you is the 
 most honourable of men ! "
 
 "You spy ! " she cried " You hound ! You gentleman ! "
 
 MADAME AND MADEMOISELLE. 99 
 
 "Madame," I said hoarsely and I know my 
 face was grey as ashes " let us understand one 
 another." 
 
 " God forbid ! " she cried, on the instant " I 
 would not soil myself ! " 
 
 " Fie ! Madame," I said, trembling. " But then, 
 you are a woman. That should cost a man his 
 life!" 
 
 She laughed bitterly. 
 
 "You say well," she retorted. "I am not a 
 man. Neither am I Madame. Madame de 
 Cocheforet has spent this afternoon thanks 
 to your absence and your imbecility with her 
 husband. Yes, I hope that hurts you ! " she went 
 on, savagely snapping her little white teeth 
 together. " To spy and do vile work, and do it 
 ill, Monsieur Mouchard Monsieur de Mouchard, 
 I should say I congratulate you ! " 
 
 " You are not Madame de Cocheforet ! " I cried, 
 stunned even in the midst of my shame and 
 rage by this blow. 
 
 " No, Monsieur ! " she answered grimly. "I 
 am not! And permit me to point out for we 
 do not all lie easily that I never said I was. 
 
 H 2
 
 100 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 You deceived yourself so skilfully that we had no 
 need to trick you." 
 
 " Mademoiselle, then ? " I muttered. 
 
 " Is Madame ! " she cried. " Yes, and I am 
 Mademoiselle de Cocheforet. And in that char- 
 acter, and in all others, I beg from this moment 
 to close our acquaintance, Sir. When we meet 
 again if we ever do meet which God for- 
 bid ! " she cried, her eyes sparkling, " do not pre- 
 sume to speak to me, or I will have you flogged 
 by the grooms. And do not stain our roof by 
 sleeping under it again. You may lie to-night in 
 the inn. It shall not be said that Cocheforet," 
 she continued proudly, "returned even treachery 
 with inhospitality ; and I will give orders to that 
 end. To-morrow begone back to your master, like 
 the whipped cur you are ! Spy and coward ! " 
 
 With the last fierce words she moved away. 
 I would have said something, I could almost have 
 found it in my heart to stop her and make her 
 hear. Nay, I had dreadful thoughts; for I was 
 the stronger, and I might have done with her as 
 I pleased. But she swept by me so fearlessly 
 as I might pass some loathsome cripple in the
 
 MADAME AND MADEMOISELLE. IOI 
 
 road that I stood turned to stone. Without 
 looking at me without turning her head to see 
 whether I followed or remained, or what I did 
 she went steadily down the track until the trees 
 and the shadow and the growing darkness hid 
 her grey figure from me; and I found myself 
 alone.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 REVENGE. 
 
 AND full of black rage! Had she only re- 
 proached me, or, turning on me in the hour of 
 my victory, said all she had now said in the 
 moment of her own, I could have borne it. She 
 might have shamed me then, and I might have 
 taken the shame to myself, and forgiven her. 
 But, as it was, I stood there in the gathering 
 dusk, between the darkening hedges, baffled, 
 tricked, defeated ! And by a woman ! She had 
 pitted her wits against mine, her woman's will 
 against my experience, and she had come off the 
 victor. And then she had reviled me. As I took 
 it all in, and began to comprehend, also, the more 
 remote results, and how completely her move had 
 made further progress on my part impossible, I 
 hated her. She had tricked me with her gracious 
 ways and her slow-coming smile. And, after all 
 
 102
 
 REVENGE. 103 
 
 for what she had said it was this man's life 
 or mine. What had I done that another man 
 would not do ? Mon Dieu ! In the future there 
 was nothing I would not do. I would make her 
 smart for those words of hers! I would bring 
 her to her knees! 
 
 Still, hot as I was, an hour might have restored 
 me to coolness. But when I started to return, 
 I fell into a fresh rage, for I remembered that I 
 did not know my way out of the maze of rides 
 and paths into which she had drawn me ; and 
 this and the mishaps which followed kept my 
 rage hot. For a full hour I wandered in the 
 wood, unable, though I knew where the village 
 lay, to find any track which led continuously in 
 one direction. Whenever, at the end of each 
 attempt, the thicket brought me up short, I fan- 
 cied I heard her laughing on the farther side of 
 the brake ; and the ignominy of this chance pun- 
 ishment, the check which the confinement placed 
 on my rage, almost maddened me. In the dark- 
 ness, I fell, and rose cursing; I tore my hands 
 with thorns ; I stained my suit, which had suffered 
 sadly once before. At length, when I had almost
 
 104 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 resigned myself to lie in the wood, I caught sight 
 of the lights of the village, and trembling between 
 haste and anger, pressed towards them. In a 
 few minutes I stood in the little street. . 
 
 The lights of the inn shone only fifty yards 
 away ; but before I could show myself even there 
 pride suggested that I should do something to 
 repair my clothes. I stopped, and scraped and 
 brushed them; and, at the same time, did what 
 I could to compose my features. Then I ad- 
 vanced to the door and knocked. Almost on 
 the instant the landlord's voice cried from the 
 inside, " Enter, Monsieur ! " 
 
 I raised the latch and went in. The man was 
 alone, squatting over the fire, warming his hands. 
 A black pot simmered on the ashes : as I entered, 
 he raised the lid and peeped inside. Then he 
 glanced over his shoulder. 
 
 " You expected me ? " I said defiantly, walking 
 to the hearth, and setting one of my damp boots 
 on the logs. 
 
 " Yes," he answered, nodding curtly. " Your 
 supper is just ready. I thought you would be 
 in about this time."
 
 REVENGE. 105 
 
 He grinned as he spoke, and it was with diffi- 
 culty I suppressed my wrath. " Mademoiselle 
 de Cocheforet told you," I said, affecting in- 
 difference, " where I was ? " 
 
 " Ay, Mademoiselle or Madame," he replied, 
 grinning afresh. 
 
 So she had told him where she had left me, 
 and how she had tricked me ! She had made 
 me the village laughing-stock! My rage flashed 
 out afresh at the thought, and, at the sight of 
 his mocking face, I raised my fist. 
 
 But he read the threat in my eyes, and was 
 up in a moment, snarling, with his hand on his 
 knife. " Not again, Monsieur ! " he cried, in his 
 vile patois. " My head is sore still. Raise your 
 hand, and I will rip you up as I would a pig ! " 
 
 " Sit down, fool," I said. " I am not going 
 to harm you. Where is your wife ? " 
 
 " About her business." 
 
 "Which should be getting my supper," I re- 
 torted sharply. 
 
 He rose sullenly, and, fetching a platter, poured 
 the mess of broth and vegetables into it. Then 
 he went to a cupboard and brought out a loaf
 
 106 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 of black bread and a measure of wine, and set 
 them also on the table. " You see it," he said 
 laconically. 
 
 " And a poor welcome ! " I exclaimed. 
 
 He flamed into sudden passion at that. Lean- 
 ing with both his hands on the table, he thrust 
 his rugged face and blood-shot eyes close to 
 mine. His mustachios bristled; his beard trem- 
 bled. " Hark ye, Sirrah ! " he muttered, with 
 sullen emphasis " be content ! I have my sus- 
 picions. And if it were not for my lady's orders 
 I would put a knife into you, fair or foul, this 
 very night. You would lie snug outside, instead 
 of inside, and I do not think any one would be 
 the worse. But, as it is, be content. Keep a 
 still tongue ; and when you turn your back on 
 Cocheforet to-morrow keep it turned." 
 
 "Tut! tut!" I said but I confess I was a 
 little out of countenance. " Threatened men live 
 long, you rascal ! " 
 
 " In Paris ! " he answered significantly. " Not 
 here, Monsieur." 
 
 He straightened himself with that, nodded 
 once, and went back to the fire, and I shrugged
 
 REVENGE. 107 
 
 my shoulders and began to eat, affecting to for- 
 get his presence. The logs on the hearth burned 
 sullenly, and gave no light. The poor oil-lamp, 
 casting weird shadows from wall to wall, served 
 only to discover the darkness. The room, with 
 its low roof and earthen floor, and foul clothes 
 flung here and there, reeked of stale meals and 
 garlic and vile cooking. I thought of the par- 
 lour at Cocheforet, and the dainty table, and 
 the stillness, and the scented pot-herbs; and, 
 though I was too old a soldier to eat the worse 
 because my spoon lacked washing, I felt the 
 change, and laid it savagely at Mademoiselle's 
 door. 
 
 The landlord, watching me stealthily from his 
 place by the hearth, read my thoughts, and 
 chuckled aloud. " Palace fare, palace man- 
 ners ! " he muttered scornfully. " Set a beggar 
 on horseback, and he will ride back to the 
 inn ! " 
 
 " Keep a civil tongue, will you ! " I answered, 
 scowling at him. 
 
 " Have you finished ? " he retorted. 
 
 I rose, without deigning to reply, and, going
 
 108 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 to the fire, drew off my boots, which were wet 
 through. He, on the instant, swept off the 
 wine and loaf to the cupboard, and then, coming 
 back for the platter I had used, took it, opened 
 the back door, and went out, leaving the door 
 ajar. The draught which came in beat the 
 flame of the lamp this way and that, and gave 
 the dingy, gloomy room an air still more miser- 
 able. I rose angrily from the fire, and went to 
 the door, intending to close it with a bang. 
 
 But when I reached it, I saw something, be- 
 tween door and jamb, which stayed my hand. 
 The door led to a shed in which the housewife 
 washed pots and the like. I felt some surprise, 
 therefore, when I found a light there at this 
 time of night; still more surprise when I saw 
 what she was doing. 
 
 She was seated on the mud floor, with a .rush- 
 light before her, and on either side of her a 
 high-piled heap of refuse and rubbish. From 
 one of these, at the moment I caught sight of 
 her, she was sorting things horrible, filthy 
 sweepings of road or floor to the other; shak- 
 ing and sifting each article as she passed it
 
 REVENGE. 109 
 
 across, and then taking up another and repe'at- 
 ing the action with it, and so on : all minutely, 
 warily, with an air of so much patience and 
 persistence that I stood wondering. Some 
 things rags she held up between her eyes 
 and the light, some she passed through her 
 ringers, some she fairly tore in pieces. And 
 all the time her husband stood watching her 
 greedily, my platter still in his hand, as if her 
 strange occupation fascinated him. 
 
 I stood looking, also, for half a minute, per- 
 haps; then the man's eye, raised for a single 
 second to the doorway, met mine. He started, 
 muttered something to his wife, and, quick as 
 thought, kicked the light out, leaving the shed 
 in darkness. Cursing him for an ill-conditioned 
 fellow, I walked back to the fire, laughing. In a 
 twinkling he followed me, his face dark with rage. 
 
 " Ventre saint gris ! " he exclaimed, thrusting 
 it close to mine. "Is not a man's house his 
 own ? " 
 
 " It is, for me," I answered coolly, shrugging 
 my shoulders. " And his wife : if she likes to 
 pick dirty rags at this hour, that is your affair."
 
 110 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 " Pig of a spy ! " he cried, foaming with rage. 
 
 I was angry enough at bottom, but I had noth- 
 ing to gain by quarrelling with the fellow; and 
 I curtly bade him remember himself. "Your 
 mistress gave you your orders," I said contempt- 
 uously. " Obey them ! " 
 
 He spat on the floor, but at the same time 
 he grew calmer. "You are right there," he 
 answered spitefully. "What matter, after all, 
 since you leave to-morrow at six? Your horse 
 has been sent down, and your baggage is above." 
 
 " I will go to it," I retorted. " I want none 
 of your company. Give me a light, fellow!" 
 
 He obeyed reluctantly, and, glad to turn my 
 back on him, I went up the ladder, still wonder- 
 ing faintly, in the midst of my annoyance, what 
 his wife was about that my chance detection of 
 her had so enraged him. Even now he was not 
 quite himself. He followed me with abuse, and, 
 deprived by my departure of any other means 
 of showing his spite, fell to shouting through 
 the floor, bidding me remember six o'clock, and 
 be stirring; with other taunts, which did not 
 cease until he had tired himself out.
 
 REVENGE. 1 1 1 
 
 The sight of my belongings which I had 
 left a few hours before at the Chateau strewn 
 about the floor of this garret, went some way 
 towards firing me again. But I was worn out. 
 The indignities and mishaps of the evening had, 
 for once, crushed my spirit, and after swearing 
 an oath or two I began to pack my bags. Ven- 
 geance I would have ; but the time and manner 
 I left for daylight thought. Beyond six o'clock 
 in the morning I did not look forward; and if 
 I longed for anything it was for a little of the 
 good Armagnac I had wasted on those louts of 
 merchants in the kitchen below. It might have 
 done me good now. 
 
 I had wearily strapped up one bag, and nearly 
 filled the other, when I came upon something 
 which did, for the moment, rouse the devil in 
 me. This was the tiny orange-coloured sachet 
 which Mademoiselle had dropped the night I 
 first saw her at the inn, and which, it will be 
 remembered, I picked up. Since that night I 
 had not seen it, and had as good as forgotten 
 it. Now, as I folded up my other doublet, the 
 one I had then been wearing, it dropped from 
 the pocket.
 
 112 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 The sight of it recalled all that night, and 
 Mademoiselle's face in the lanthorn light, and my 
 fine plans, and the end of them ; and, in a fit of 
 childish fury, the outcome of long suppressed 
 passion, I snatched up the sachet from the floor 
 and tore it across and across, and flung the 
 pieces down. As they fell, a cloud of fine pun- 
 gent dust burst from them, and with the dust 
 something heavier, which tinkled sharply on 
 the boards. I looked down to see what this was 
 perhaps I already repented of my act but 
 for the moment I could see nothing. The floor 
 was grimy and uninviting, and the light bad. 
 
 In certain moods, however, a man is obstinate 
 about small things, and I moved the taper 
 nearer. As I did so, a point of light, a flash- 
 ing sparkle that shone for a second among the 
 dirt and refuse on the floor, caught my eye. It 
 was gone in a moment, but I had seen it. I 
 stared, and moved the light again, and the spark 
 flashed out afresh, this time in a different place. 
 Much puzzled, I knelt, and, in a twinkling, found 
 a tiny crystal. Hard by lay another and an- 
 other; each as large as a fair-sized pea. I took
 
 REVENGE. H3 
 
 up the three, and rose to my feet again, the 
 light in one hand, the crystals in the palm of 
 the other. 
 
 They were diamonds ! diamonds of price ! 
 I knew it in a moment. As I moved the taper 
 to and fro above them, and watched the fire 
 glow and tremble in their depths, I knew that 
 I held that which would buy the crazy inn and 
 all its contents a dozen times over. They were 
 diamonds ! Gems so fine, and of so rare a 
 water or I had never seen gems that my 
 hand trembled as I held them, and my head 
 grew hot, and my heart beat furiously. For a 
 moment I thought I dreamed, that my fancy 
 played me some trick; and I closed my eyes 
 and did not open them again for a minute. But 
 when I did, there they were, hard, real, and 
 angular. Convinced at last, in a maze of joy 
 and fear, I closed my hand upon them, and, 
 stealing on tip-toe to the trapdoor, laid first my 
 saddle on it, and then my bags, and over all 
 my cloak, breathing fast the while. 
 
 Then I stole back; and, taking up the light 
 again, began to search the floor, patiently, inch
 
 114 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 by inch, with naked feet, every sound making 
 me tremble as I crept hither and thither over 
 the creaking boards. And never was search 
 more successful or better paid. In the frag- 
 ments of the sachet I found six smaller diamonds 
 and a pair of rubies. Eight large diamonds 
 I found on the floor. One, the largest and 
 last-found, had bounded away, and lay against 
 the wall in the farthest corner. It took me an 
 hour to run that one to earth ; but afterwards 
 I spent another hour on my hands and knees 
 before I gave up the search, and, satisfied at 
 last that I had collected all, sat down on my 
 saddle on the trap-door, and, by the last flicker- 
 ing light of a candle which I had taken from 
 my bag, gloated over my treasure a treasure 
 worthy of fabled Golconda. 
 
 Hardly could I believe in its reality, even now. 
 Recalling the jewels which the English Duke of 
 Buckingham wore on the occasion of his visit to 
 Paris in 1625, and of which there was so much 
 talk, I took these to be as fine, though less in 
 number. They should be worth fifteen thousand 
 crowns, more or less. Fifteen thousand crowns !
 
 REVENGE. 115 
 
 And I held them in the hollow of my hand 
 I who was scarcely worth ten thousand sous. 
 
 The candle going out cut short my admiration. 
 Left in the dark with these precious atoms, my 
 first thought was how I might dispose of them 
 safely; which I did, for the time, by secreting 
 them in the lining of my boot. My second 
 thought turned on the question how they had 
 come where I had found them, among the pow- 
 dered spice and perfumes in Mademoiselle de 
 Cocheforet's sachet. 
 
 A minute's reflection enabled me to come very 
 near the secret, and at the same time shed a 
 flood of light on several dark places. What Clon 
 had been seeking on the path between the house 
 and the village, what the goodwife of the inn 
 had sought among the sweepings of yard and 
 floor, I knew now, the sachet. I knew, too, 
 what had caused the marked and sudden anxiety 
 I had noticed at the Chateau the loss of this 
 sachet. 
 
 And there for a while I came to a check. But 
 one step more up the ladder of thought brought 
 all in view. In a flash I guessed how the jewels
 
 1 1 6 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 had come to be in the sachet; and that it was 
 not Mademoiselle but M. de Cocheforet who 
 had mislaid them. And I thought the discovery 
 so important that I began to pace the room softly, 
 unable, in my excitement, to remain still. 
 
 Doubtless he had dropped the jewels in the 
 hurry of his start from the inn that night ! 
 Doubtless, too, he had carried them in that 
 bizarre hiding-place for the sake of safety, con- 
 sidering it unlikely that robbers, if he fell into 
 their hands, would take the sachet from him ; 
 as still less likely that they would suspect it to 
 contain anything of value. Everywhere it would 
 pass for a love-gift, the work of his mistress. 
 
 Nor did my penetration stop there. Ten to 
 one the gems were family property, the last treas- 
 ure of the house ; and M. de Cocheforet, when I 
 saw him at the inn, was on his way to convey 
 them out of the country ; either to secure them 
 from seizure by the Government, or to raise 
 money by selling them money to be spent in 
 some last desperate enterprise. For a day or 
 two, perhaps, after leaving Cocheforet, while the 
 mountain road and its chances occupied his
 
 REVENGE. 117 
 
 thoughts, he had not discovered his loss. Then 
 he had searched for the precious sachet, missed 
 it, and returned hot-foot on his tracks. 
 
 I was certain that I had hit on the true solu- 
 tion; and all that night I sat wakeful in the 
 darkness, pondering what I should do. The 
 stones, unset as they were, could never be identi- 
 fied, never be claimed. The channel by which 
 they had come to my hands could never be 
 traced. To all intents they were mine mine, 
 to do with as I pleased ! Fifteen thousand 
 crowns ! perhaps twenty thousand crowns ! 
 and I to leave at six in the morning, whether 
 I would or no ! I might leave for Spain with 
 the jewels in my pocket. 
 
 I confess I was tempted. The gems were so 
 fine that I doubt not some indifferently honest 
 men would have sold salvation for them. But a 
 Berault his honour ? No ! I was ' tempted, but 
 not for long. Thank God, a man may be reduced 
 to living by the fortunes of the dice, and may 
 even be called by a woman spy and coward 
 without becoming a thief. The temptation soon 
 left me I take credit for it and I fell to
 
 Il8 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 thinking of this and that plan for making use 
 of them. Once it occurred to me to take the 
 jewels to the Cardinal and buy my pardon with 
 them; again, to use them as a trap to capture 
 Cocheforet; again to and then about five in 
 the morning, as I sat up on my wretched pallet, 
 while the first light stole slowly in through the 
 cobwebbed, hay-stuffed lattice, there came to me 
 the real plan, the plan of plans, on which I 
 acted. 
 
 It charmed me. I smacked my lips over it, 
 and hugged myself, and felt my eyes dilate in 
 the darkness, as I conned it. It seemed cruel, 
 it seemed mean; I cared nothing. Mademoiselle 
 had boasted of her victory over me, of her 
 woman's wits and her acuteness; and of my 
 dulness. She had said her grooms should flog 
 me, she had rated me as if I had been a 
 dog. Very well; we would see now whose 
 brains were the better, whose was the master 
 mind, whose should be the whipping. 
 
 The one thing required by my plan was that 
 I should get speech with her; that done, I could 
 trust myself, and my new-found weapon, for the
 
 REVENGE. 119 
 
 rest. But that was absolutely necessary ; and 
 seeing that there might be some difficulty about 
 it, I determined to descend as if my mind were 
 made up to go ; then, on pretence of saddling 
 my horse, I would slip away on foot, and lie in 
 wait near the Chateau until I saw her come out. 
 Or if I could not effect my purpose in that way 
 either by reason of the landlord's vigilance, 
 or for any other cause my course was still 
 easy. I would ride away, and when I had 
 proceeded a mile or so, tie up my horse in the 
 forest and return to the wooden bridge. Thence 
 I could watch the garden and front of the 
 Chateau until time and chance gave me the op- 
 portunity I sought. 
 
 So I saw my way quite clearly; and when 
 the fellow below called me, reminding me rudely 
 that I must be going, and that it was six o'clock, 
 I was ready with my answer. I shouted sulkily 
 that I was coming, and, after a decent delay, 
 I took up my saddle and bags and went down. 
 
 Viewed by the cold morning light, the inn 
 room looked more smoky, more grimy, more 
 wretched than when I had last seen it. The
 
 120 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 goodwife was not visible. The fire was not 
 lighted. No provision, not so much as a stirrup- 
 cup or bowl of porridge cheered the heart. I 
 looked round, sniffing the stale smell of last 
 night's lamp, and grunted. " Are you going to 
 send me out fasting ? " I said, affecting a worse 
 humour than I felt. 
 
 The landlord was standing by the window, 
 stooping over a great pair of frayed and 
 furrowed thigh-boots, which he was labouring 
 to soften with copious grease. " Mademoiselle 
 
 * 
 
 ordered no breakfast," he answered, with a ma- 
 licious grin. 
 
 "Well, it does not much matter," I replied 
 grandly. " I shall be at Auch by noon." 
 
 "That is as may be," he answered, with another 
 grin. I did not understand him, but I had 
 something else to think about, and I opened 
 the door and stepped out, intending to go to the 
 stable. Then in a second I comprehended. The 
 cold air laden with woodland moisture met me 
 and went to my bones ; but it was not that which 
 made me shiver. Outside the door, in the road, 
 sitting on horseback in silence, were two men.
 
 Outside the door, in the road, sitting on horseback in silence, 
 were two men.
 
 REVENGE. 121 
 
 One was Clon. The other, who held a spare 
 horse by the rein my horse was a man I 
 had seen at the inn, a rough, shock-headed, hard- 
 bitten fellow. Both were armed, and Clon was 
 booted. His mate rode barefoot, with a rusty 
 spur strapped to one heel. 
 
 The moment I saw them a sure and certain 
 fear crept into my mind : it was that made me 
 shiver. But I did not speak to them. I went 
 in again, and closed the door behind me. The 
 landlord was putting on the boots. "What does 
 this mean ? " I said hoarsely. I had a clear 
 prescience of what was coming. " Why are 
 these men here ? " 
 
 " Orders," he answered laconically. 
 
 "Whose orders?" I retorted. 
 
 "Whose?" he answered bluntly. "Well, 
 Monsieur, that is my business. Enough that we 
 mean to see you out of the country, and out of 
 harm's way." 
 
 "But if I will not go?" I cried. 
 
 " Monsieur will go," he answered coolly. 
 " There are no strangers in the village to-day," 
 he added, with a significant smile.
 
 122 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 " Do you mean to kidnap me ? " I replied, in a 
 rage. Behind the rage was something I will 
 not call it terror, for the brave feel no terror 
 but it was near akin to it. I had had to do 
 with rough men all my -life, but there was a 
 grimness and truculence in the aspect of these 
 three that shook me. When I thought of the dark 
 paths and narrow lanes and cliff-sides we must 
 traverse, whichever road we took, I trembled. 
 
 " Kidnap you, Monsieur ? " he answered, with 
 an everyday air. " That is as you please to call 
 it. One thing is certain, however," he continued, 
 maliciously touching an arquebuss which he had 
 produced and set upright against a chair while 
 I was at the door ; " if you attempt the slightest 
 resistance, we shall know how to put an end to 
 it, either here or on the road." 
 
 I drew a deep breath. The very imminence of 
 the danger restored me to the use of my faculties. 
 I changed my tone and laughed aloud. " So 
 that is your plan, is it ? " I said. " The sooner 
 we start the better, then. And the sooner I see 
 Auch and your back turned, the more I shall be 
 pleased."
 
 REVENGE. 123 
 
 He rose. "After you, Monsieur," he said. 
 
 I could not restrain a slight shiver. His new- 
 born politeness alarmed me more than his threats. 
 I knew the man and his ways, and I was sure 
 that it boded ill for me. 
 
 But I had no pistols, and only my sword and 
 knife, and I knew that resistance at this point 
 must be worse than vain. I went out jauntily, 
 therefore, the landlord coming after me with my 
 saddle and bags. 
 
 The street was empty, save for the two wait- 
 ing horsemen who sat in their saddles looking 
 doggedly before them. The sun had not yet 
 risen, the air was raw. The sky was grey, 
 cloudy, and cold. My thoughts flew back to 
 the morning on which I had found the sachet 
 at that very spot, almost at that very hour ; 
 and for a moment I grew warm again at the 
 thought of the little packet I carried in my 
 boot. But the landlord's dry manner, the sullen 
 silence of his two companions, whose eyes steadily 
 refused to meet mine, chilled me again. For an 
 instant the impulse to refuse to mount, to refuse 
 to go, was almost irresistible ; then, knowing the
 
 124 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 madness of such a course, which might, and 
 probably would, give the men the chance they 
 desired, I crushed it down and went slowly to 
 my stirrup. 
 
 " I wonder you do not want my sword," I 
 said by way of sarcasm, as I swung myself up. 
 
 "We are not afraid of it," the innkeeper 
 answered gravely. "You may keep it for the 
 present." 
 
 I made no answer what answer had I to 
 make ? and we rode at a foot-pace down the 
 street; he and I leading, Clon and the shock- 
 headed man bringing up the rear. The leisurely 
 mode of our departure, the absence of hurry 
 or even haste, the men's indifference whether 
 they were seen, or what was thought, all served 
 to sink my spirits, and deepen my sense of 
 peril. I felt that they suspected me, that they 
 more than half guessed the nature of my errand 
 at Cocheforet, and that they were not minded 
 to be bound by Mademoiselle's orders. In par- 
 ticular I augured the worst from Clon's appear- 
 ance. His lean malevolent face and sunken 
 eyes, his very dumbness chilled me. Mercy had 
 no place there.
 
 REVENGE. . 125 
 
 We rode soberly, so that nearly half an hour 
 elapsed before we gained the brow from which 
 I had taken my first look at Cocheforet. Among 
 the dwarf oaks whence I had viewed the valley 
 we paused to breathe our horses, and the strange 
 feelings with which I looked back on the scene 
 may be imagined. But I had short time for 
 indulging in sentiment or recollections. A curt 
 word, and we were moving again. 
 
 A quarter of a mile farther on the road to 
 Auch dipped into the valley. When we were 
 already half-way down this descent the inn- 
 keeper suddenly stretched out his hand and 
 caught my rein. " This way ! " he said. 
 
 I saw he would have me turn into a by-path 
 leading south-westwards a mere track, faint 
 and little trodden and encroached on by trees, 
 which led I knew not whither. I checked my 
 horse. " Why ? " I said rebelliously. " Do you 
 think I do not know the road ? This is the way 
 to Auch." 
 
 "To Auch yes," he answered bluntly. " But 
 we are not going to Auch." 
 
 " Whither then ? " I said angrily.
 
 126 UNDER THE RED ROSE. 
 
 " You will see presently," he replied, with an 
 ugly smile. 
 
 " Yes, but I will know now ! " I retorted, pas- 
 sion getting the better of me. " I have come so 
 far with you. You will find it more easy to 
 take me farther, if you tell me your plans." 
 
 " You are a fool ! " he cried, with a snarl. 
 
 " Not so," I answered. " I ask only to know 
 whither I am going." 
 
 "Into Spain," he said. "Will that satisfy 
 you ? " 
 
 " And what will you do with me there ? " I 
 asked, my heart giving a great bound. 
 
 " Hand you over to some friends of ours," he 
 answered curtly, "if you behave yourself. If 
 not, there is a shorter way, and one that will 
 save us some travelling. Make up your mind, 
 Monsieur. Which shall it be?"
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 UNDER THE PIC DU MIDI. 
 
 So that was their plan. Two or three hours 
 to the southward, the long white glittering wall 
 stretched east and west above the brown woods. 
 Beyond that lay Spain. Once across the border, 
 I might be detained, if no worse happened to me, 
 as a prisoner of war; for we were then at war 
 with Spain on the Italian side. Or I might be 
 handed over to one of the savage bands, half 
 smugglers, half brigands, that held the passes ; or 
 be delivered worst fate of all into the power 
 of the French exiles, of whom some would be 
 likely to recognize me and cut my throat. 
 
 " It is a long way into Spain," I muttered, 
 watching in a kind of fascination Clon handling 
 his pistols. 
 
 " I think you will find the other road longer 
 127
 
 128 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 still ! " the landlord answered grimly. " But 
 choose, and be quick about it." 
 
 They were three to one, and they had firearms. 
 In effect I had no choice. " Well, if I must I 
 must ! " I cried, making up my mind with seeming 
 recklessness. " Vogue la galore ! Spain be it. It 
 will not be the first time I have heard the dons 
 talk." 
 
 The men nodded, as much as to say that they 
 had known what the end would be ; the landlord 
 released my rein ; and in a trice we were riding 
 down the narrow track, with our faces set towards 
 the mountains. 
 
 On one point my mind was now more easy. 
 The men meant fairly by me ; and I had no 
 longer to fear, as I had feared, a pistol shot in the 
 back at the first convenient ravine. As far as 
 that went, I might ride in peace. On the other 
 hand, if I let them carry me across the border my 
 fate was sealed. A man set down without creden- 
 tials or guards among the wild desperadoes who 
 swarmed in war time in the Asturian passes might 
 consider himself fortunate if an easy death fell to 
 his lot. In my case I could make a shrewd guess
 
 UNDER THE PIC DU MIDI. 129 
 
 what would happen. A single nod of meaning, 
 one muttered word, dropped among the savage 
 men with whom I should be left, and the dia- 
 monds hidden in my boot would go neither to the 
 Cardinal nor back to Mademoiselle nor would 
 it matter to me whither they went. 
 
 So while the others talked in their taciturn 
 fashion, or sometimes grinned at my gloomy face, 
 I looked out over the brown woods with eyes that 
 saw, yet did not see. The red squirrel swarming 
 up the trunk, the startled pigs that rushed away 
 grunting from their feast of mast, the solitary 
 rider who met us, armed to the teeth, and passed 
 northwards after whispering with the landlord 
 all these I saw. But my mind was not with them. 
 It was groping and feeling about like a hunted 
 mole for some way of escape. For time pressed. 
 The slope we were on was growing steeper. By- 
 and-bye we fell into a southward valley, and began 
 to follow it steadily upwards, crossing and recross- 
 ing a swiftly rushing stream. The snow-peaks 
 began to be hidden behind the rising bulk of hills 
 that overhung us ; and sometimes we could see 
 nothing before or behind but the wooded walls
 
 130 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 of our valley rising sheer and green a thousand 
 paces on either hand, with grey rocks half masked 
 by fern and ivy getting here and there through 
 the firs and alders. 
 
 It was a wild and sombre scene even at that 
 hour, with the midday sun shining on the rushing 
 water and drawing the scent out of the pines; 
 but I knew that there was worse to come, and 
 sought desperately for some ruse by which I 
 might at least separate the men. Three were too 
 many; with one I might deal. At last, when I 
 had cudgelled my brain for an hour, and almost 
 resigned myself to a sudden charge on the men 
 single-handed a last desperate resort I thought 
 of a plan, dangerous, too, and almost desperate, 
 but which still seemed to promise something. It 
 came of my fingers resting in my pocket on the 
 fragments of the orange sachet, which, without 
 having any particular design in my mind, I had 
 taken care to bring with me. I had torn the 
 sachet into four pieces four corners. As I 
 played mechanically with them, one of my fingers 
 fitted into one, as into a glove ; a second finger 
 into another. And the plan came.
 
 UNDER THE PIC DU MIDI. 13 f 
 
 Still, before I could move in it, I had to wait 
 until we stopped to bait the flagging horses, which 
 we did about noon at the head of the valley. 
 Then, pretending to drink from the stream, I man- 
 aged to secure unseen a handful of pebbles, slip- 
 ping them into the same pocket with the morsels 
 of stuff. On getting to horse again, I carefully 
 fitted a pebble, not too tightly, into the largest 
 scrap, and made ready for the attempt. 
 
 The landlord rode on my left, abreast of me; 
 the other two knaves behind. The road at this 
 stage favoured me, for the valley, which drained 
 the bare uplands that lay between the lower spurs 
 and the base of the real mountains, had become 
 wide and shallow. Here were no trees, and the 
 path was a mere sheep-track covered with short 
 crisp grass, and running sometimes on this bank 
 of the stream and sometimes on that. 
 
 I waited until the ruffian beside me turned to 
 speak to the men behind. The moment he did so 
 and his eyes were averted, I slipped out the scrap 
 of satin in which I had placed the pebble, and 
 balancing it carefully on my right thigh as I rode, 
 I flipped it forward with all the strength of my
 
 132 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 thumb and finger. I meant it to fall a few paces 
 before us in the path, where it could be seen. 
 But alas for my hopes ! At the critical moment 
 my horse started, my finger struck the scrap 
 aslant, the pebble flew out, and the bit of stuff 
 fluttered into a whin-bush close to my stirrup 
 and was lost ! 
 
 I was bitterly disappointed, for the same thing 
 might happen again, and I had now only three 
 scraps left. But fortune favoured me, by putting 
 it into my neighbour's head to plunge into a hot 
 debate with the shock-headed man on the nature 
 of some animals seen on a distant brow ; which he 
 said were izards, while the other maintained that 
 they were common goats. He continued, on this 
 account, to ride with his face turned the other 
 way. I had time to fit another pebble into the 
 second piece of stuff, and sliding it on to my 
 thigh, poised it, and flipped it. 
 
 This time my finger struck the tiny missile 
 fairly in the middle, and shot it so far and so 
 truly that it dropped exactly in the path ten paces 
 in front of us. The moment I saw it fall I kicked 
 my neighbour's nag in the ribs; it started, and
 
 UNDER THE PIC DU MIDI. 133 
 
 he, turning in a rage, hit it. The next instant 
 he pulled it almost on to its haunches. 
 
 " Saint Gris ! " he cried ; and sat glaring at the 
 bit of yellow satin, with his face turned purple 
 and his jaw fallen. 
 
 "What is it?" I said, staring at him in turn. 
 "What is the matter, fool?" 
 
 "Matter?" he blurted out. "MonDieu!" 
 
 But Clon's excitement surpassed even his. The 
 dumb man no sooner saw what had attracted his 
 comrade's attention, than he uttered an inarticu- 
 late and horrible noise, and tumbling off his horse, 
 more like a beast than a man, threw himself bodily 
 on the precious morsel. 
 
 The innkeeper was not far behind him. An 
 instant and he was down, too, peering at the 
 thing; and for an instant I thought that they 
 would fight over it. However, though their jeal- 
 ousy was evident, their excitement cooled a little 
 when they discovered that the scrap of stuff was 
 empty ; for, fortunately, the pebble had fallen out 
 of it. Still, it threw them into such a fever of 
 eagerness as it was wonderful to witness. They 
 nosed the ground where it had lain, they plucked
 
 134 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 up the grass and turf, and passed it through their 
 fingers, they ran to and fro like dogs on a trail ; 
 and, glancing askance at one another, came back 
 always together to the point of departure. Neither 
 in his jealousy would suffer the other to be there 
 alone. 
 
 The shock-headed man and I sat our horses 
 and looked on ; he marvelling, and I pretending 
 to marvel. As the two searched up and down 
 the path, we moved a little out of it to give them 
 space ; and presently, when all their heads were 
 turned from me, I let a second morsel drop under 
 a gorse-bush. The shock-headed man, by-and-bye, 
 found this, and gave it to Clon ; and, as from the 
 circumstances of the first discovery no suspicion 
 attached to me, I ventured to find the third and 
 last scrap myself. I did not pick it up, but I 
 called the innkeeper, and he pounced on it as I 
 have seen a hawk pounce on a chicken. 
 
 They hunted for the fourth morsel, but, of 
 course, in vain, and in the end they desisted, 
 and fitted the three they had together; but 
 neither would let his own portion out of his 
 hands, and each looked at the other across the
 
 UNDER THE PIC DU MIDI. 13$ 
 
 spoil with eyes of suspicion. It was strange to 
 see them in that wide-stretching valley, whence 
 grey boar-backs of hills swelled up into the silence 
 of the snow it was strange, I say, in that vast 
 solitude to see these two, mere dots on its bosom, 
 circling round one another in fierce forgetfulness 
 of the outside world, glaring and shifting their 
 ground like cocks about to engage, and wholly 
 engrossed by three scraps of orange-colour, 
 invisible at fifty paces ! 
 
 At last the innkeeper cried with an oath : " I 
 am going back. This must be known down 
 yonder. Give me your pieces, man, and do you 
 go with Antoine. It will be all right." 
 
 But Clon, waving a scrap in either hand and 
 thrusting his ghastly mask into the other's face, 
 shook his head in passionate denial. He could 
 not speak, but he made it clear that if any one 
 went back with the news he was the man to go. 
 
 " Nonsense ! " the landlord retorted fiercely. 
 "We cannot leave Antoine to go on alone with 
 him. Give me the stuff." 
 
 But Clon would not. He had no thought of 
 resigning the credit of the discovery, and I began
 
 136 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 to think that the two would really come to blows. 
 But there was an alternative, and first one and 
 then the other looked at me. It was a moment 
 of peril, and I knew it. My stratagem might 
 react on myself, and the two, to put an end to 
 this difficulty, agree to put an end to me. But 
 I faced them so coolly and showed so bold a 
 front, and the ground was so open, that the idea 
 took no root. They fell to wrangling again more 
 viciously than before. One tapped his gun and 
 the other his pistols. The landlord scolded, the 
 dumb man gurgled. At last their difference 
 ended as I had hoped it would. 
 
 " Very well then, we will both go back ! " the 
 innkeeper cried in a rage. " And Antoine must 
 see him on. But the blame be on your head. 
 Do you give the lad your pistols." 
 
 Clon took one pistol and gave it to the shock- 
 headed man. 
 
 " The other ! " the innkeeper said impatiently. 
 
 But Clon shook his head with a grim smile, 
 and pointed to the arquebuss. 
 
 By a sudden movement the landlord snatched 
 the pistol, and averted Clon's vengeance by
 
 UNDER THE PIC DU MIDI. 137 
 
 placing both it and the gun in the shock-headed 
 man's hands. " There ! " he said, addressing the 
 latter, " now can you do ? If Monsieur tries to 
 escape or turn back, shoot him ! But four hours' 
 riding should bring you to the Roca Blanca. 
 You will find the men there, and will have no 
 more to do with it." 
 
 Antoine did not see things quite in that light, 
 however. He looked at me, and then at the 
 wild track in front of us ; and he muttered an 
 oath and said he would die if he would. But 
 the landlord, who was in a frenzy of impatience, 
 drew him aside and talked to him, and in the 
 end seemed to persuade him ; for in a few 
 minutes the matter was settled. Antoine came 
 back and said sullenly, " Forward, Monsieur," the 
 two others stood on one side, I shrugged my 
 shoulders and kicked up my horse, and in a 
 twinkling we two were riding on together man 
 to man. I turned once or twice to see what 
 those we had left behind were doing, and always 
 found them standing in apparent debate ; but 
 my guard showed so much jealousy of these 
 movements that I presently shrugged my shoul- 
 ders again and desisted.
 
 138 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 I had racked my brains to bring about this 
 state of things. But, strange to say, now I had 
 succeeded, I found it less satisfactory than I 
 had hoped. I had reduced the odds and got rid 
 of my most dangerous antagonists ; but Antoine, 
 left to himself, proved to be as full of suspicion 
 as an egg of meat. He rode a little behind me 
 with his gun across his saddle-bow, and a pistol 
 near his hand, and at the slightest pause on my 
 part, or if I turned to look at him, he muttered 
 his constant " Forward, Monsieur ! " in a tone 
 that warned me that his finger was on the trigger. 
 At such a distance he could not miss ; and I 
 saw nothing for it but to go on meekly before 
 him to the Roca Blanca and my fate. 
 
 What was to be done ? The road presently 
 reached the end of the valley and entered a 
 narrow pine-clad defile, strewn with rocks and 
 boulders, over which the torrent plunged and 
 eddied with a deafening roar. In front the white 
 gleam of waterfalls broke the sombre ranks of 
 climbing trunks. The snow-line lay less than half 
 a mile away on either hand; and crowning all 
 at the end of the pass, as it seemed to the eye
 
 UNDER THE PIC DU MIDI. 139 
 
 rose the pure white pillar of the Pic du Midi 
 shooting up six thousand feet into the blue of 
 heaven. Such a scene, so suddenly disclosed, was 
 enough to drive the sense of danger from my 
 mind ; and for a moment I reined in my horse. 
 But " Forward, Monsieur ! " came the grating 
 order. I fell to earth again, and went on. What 
 was to be done ? 
 
 I was at my wit's end to know. The man 
 refused to talk, refused to ride abreast of me, 
 would have no dismounting, no halting, no com- 
 munication at all. He would have nothing but 
 this silent, lonely procession of two, with the 
 muzzle of his gun at my back. And meanwhile 
 we were fast climbing the pass. We had left 
 the others an hour nearly two. The sun was 
 declining; the time, I supposed, about half-past 
 three. 
 
 If he would only let me come within reach 
 of him ! Or if anything would fall out to take 
 his attention ! When the pass presently widened 
 into a bare and dreary valley, strewn with huge 
 boulders, and with snow lying here and there 
 in the hollows, I looked desperately before me,
 
 140 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 and scanned even the vast snow-fields that 
 overhung us and stretched away to the base of 
 the ice-peak. But I saw nothing. No bear 
 swung across the path, no izard showed itself 
 on the cliffs. The keen sharp air cut our 
 cheeks and warned me that we were approach- 
 ing the summit of the ridge. On all sides were 
 silence and desolation. 
 
 Mon Dieu ! And the ruffians on whose 
 tender mercies I was to be thrown might come 
 to meet us ! They might appear at any mo- 
 ment. In my despair I loosened my hat on my 
 head, and let the first gust carry it to the 
 ground, and then with an oath of annoyance 
 tossed my feet loose to go after it. But the 
 rascal roared to me to keep my seat. 
 
 "Forward, Monsieur!" he shouted brutally. 
 "Go on!" 
 
 "But my hat!" I cried. " Mille tonnerres, 
 man ! I must " 
 
 " Forward, Monsieur, or I shoot ! " he replied 
 inexorably, raising his gun. " One two " 
 
 And I went on. But, oh, I was wrathful ! 
 That I, Gil de Berault, should be outwitted and
 
 UNDER THE PIC DU MIDI. 141 
 
 led by the nose, like a ringed bull, by this 
 Gascon lout! That I, whom all Paris knew 
 and feared if it did not love the terror of 
 Zaton's, should come to my end in this dismal 
 waste of snow and rock, done to death by some 
 pitiful smuggler or thief ! It must not be ! 
 Surely in the last resort I could give an account 
 of one man, though his belt were stuffed with 
 pistols ! 
 
 But how? Only, it seemed, by open force. 
 My heart began to flutter as I planned it; and 
 then grew steady again. A hundred paces 
 before us a gully or ravine on the left ran up 
 into the snow-field. Opposite its mouth a jum- 
 ble of stones and broken rocks covered the 
 path. I marked this for the place. The knave 
 would need both his hands to hold up his nag 
 over the stones, and, if I turned on him sud- 
 denly enough, he might either drop his gun, or 
 fire it harmlessly. 
 
 But, in the meantime, something happened; 
 as, at the last moment, things do happen. 
 While we were still fifty yards short of the 
 place, I found his horse's nose creeping for-
 
 142 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 ward on a level with my crupper; and, still 
 advancing, until I could see it out of the tail of 
 my eye, and my heart gave a great bound. He 
 was coming abreast of me : he was going to 
 deliver himself into my hands ! To cover my 
 excitement, I began to whistle. 
 
 " Hush ! " he muttered fiercely : his voice 
 sounding strange and unnatural. My first 
 thought was that he was ill, and I turned to 
 him. But he only said again, " Hush ! Pass 
 by here quietly, Monsieur." 
 
 "Why?" I asked mutinously, curiosity get- 
 ting the better of me. For had I been wise I 
 had taken no notice; every second his horse 
 was coming up with mine. Its nose was level 
 with my stirrup already. 
 
 " Hush, man ! " he said again. This time 
 there was no mistake about the panic in his 
 voice. "They call this the Devil's Chapel. 
 God send us safe by it! It is late to be here. 
 Look at those ! " he continued, pointing with 
 a finger which visibly shook. 
 
 I looked. At the mouth of the gully, in a 
 small space partly cleared of stones stood
 
 UNDER THE PIC DU MIDI. 143 
 
 three broken shafts, raised on rude pedestals. 
 "Well?" I said in a low voice. The sun 
 which was near setting flushed the great peak 
 above to the colour of blood; but the valley 
 was growing grey and each moment more 
 dreary. " Well, what of those ? " I said. In 
 spite of my peril and the excitement of the 
 coming struggle I felt the chill of his fear. 
 Never had I seen so grim, so desolate, so God- 
 forsaken a place ! Involuntarily I shivered. 
 
 "They were crosses," he muttered, in a voice 
 little above a whisper, while his eyes roved this 
 way and that in terror. "The Cure of Gabas 
 blessed the place, and set them up. But next 
 morning they were as you see them now. Come 
 on, Monsieur, come on ! " he continued, pluck- 
 ing at my arm. "It is not safe here after sun- 
 set. Pray God, Satan be not at home ! " 
 
 He had completely forgotten in his panic 
 that he had anything to fear from me. His 
 gun dropped loosely across his saddle, his leg 
 rubbed mine. I saw this, and I changed my 
 plan of action. As our horses reached the 
 stones I stooped, as if to encourage mine, and
 
 144 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 by a sudden clutch snatched the gun bodily 
 from his hand; at the same time I backed my 
 horse with all my strength. It was done in a 
 moment ! A second and I had him at the end 
 of the gun, and my finger was on the trigger. 
 Never was victory more easily gained. 
 
 He looked at me between rage and terror, 
 his jaw fallen. " Are you mad ? " he cried, his 
 teeth chattering as he spoke. Even in this 
 strait his eyes left me and wandered round in 
 alarm. 
 
 "No, sane!" I retorted fiercely. "But I do 
 not like this place any better than you do ! " 
 Which was true enough, if not quite true. " So, 
 by your right, quick march ! " I continued imper- 
 atively. "Turn your horse, my friend, or take 
 the consequences." 
 
 He turned like a lamb, and headed down the 
 valley again, without giving a thought to his 
 pistols. I kept close to him, and in less than 
 a minute we had left the Devil's Chapel well 
 behind us, and were moving down again as we 
 had come up. Only now I held the gun. 
 
 When we had gone half a mile or so until
 
 UNDER THE PIC DU MIDI. 14$ 
 
 then I did not feel comfortable myself, and 
 though I thanked Heaven the place existed, 
 thanked Heaven also that I was out of it 
 I bade him halt. " Take off your belt ! " I said 
 curtly, "and throw it down. But, mark me, if 
 you turn, I fire ! " 
 
 The spirit was quite gone out of him. He 
 obeyed mechanically. I jumped down, still cov- 
 ering him with the gun, and picked up the belt, 
 pistols and all. Then I remounted, and we went 
 on. By-and-bye he asked me sullenly what I 
 was going to do. 
 
 " Go back," I said, " and take the road to 
 Auch when I come to it." 
 
 " It will be dark in an hour," he answered 
 sulkily. 
 
 " I know that," I retorted. " We must camp 
 and do the best we can." 
 
 And as I said, we did. The daylight held 
 until we gained the skirts of the pine-wood at 
 the head of the pass. Here I chose a corner a 
 little off the track, and well-sheltered from the 
 wind, and bade him light a fire. I tethered the 
 horses near this and within sight. It remained
 
 146 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 only to sup. I had a piece of bread ; he had 
 another and an onion. We ate in silence, sitting 
 on opposite sides of the fire. 
 
 But after supper I found myself in a dilemma ; 
 I did not see how I was to sleep. The ruddy 
 light which gleamed on the knave's swart face 
 and sinewy hands showed also his eyes, black, 
 sullen, and watchful. I knew that the man was 
 plotting revenge ; that he would not hesitate to 
 plant his knife between my ribs should I give 
 him a chance. I could find only one alternative 
 to remaining awake. Had I been bloody-minded, 
 I should have chosen it and solved the question 
 at once and in my favour by shooting him as 
 he sat. 
 
 But I have never been a cruel man, and I 
 could not find it in my heart to do this. The 
 silence of the mountain and the sky which 
 seemed a thing apart from the roar of the tor- 
 rent and not to be broken by it awed me. 
 The vastness of the solitude in which we sat, 
 the dark void above through which the stars kept 
 shooting, the black gulf below in which the un- 
 seen waters boiled and surged, the absence of
 
 UNDER THE PIC DU MIDI. 147 
 
 other human company or other signs of human 
 existence put such a face upon the deed that I 
 gave up the thought of it with a shudder, and 
 resigned myself, instead, to watch through the 
 night the long, cold, Pyrenean night. Pres- 
 ently he curled himself up like a dog and slept 
 in the blaze, and then for a couple of hours I 
 sat opposite him, thinking. It seemed years 
 since I had seen Zaton's or thrown the dice. 
 The old life, the old employments should I ever 
 go back to them ? seemed dim and distant. 
 Would Cocheforet, the forest and the mountain, 
 the grey Chateau and its mistresses, seem one 
 day as dim ! And if one bit of life could fade 
 so quickly at the unrolling of another, and seem 
 in a moment pale and colourless, would all life 
 some day and somewhere, and all the things we 
 But faugh ! I was growing foolish. I sprang 
 up and kicked the wood together, and, taking up 
 the gun, began to pace to and fro under the cliff. 
 Strange that a little moonlight, a few stars, . a 
 breath of solitude should carry a man back to 
 
 childhood and childish things ! 
 
 ***** 
 
 L 2
 
 148 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 It was three in the afternoon of the next day, 
 and the sun lay hot on the oak groves, and the 
 air was full of warmth as we began to climb the 
 slope, on which the road to Auch shoots out of 
 the track. The yellow bracken and the fallen 
 leaves underfoot seemed to throw up light of 
 themselves, and here and there a patch of ruddy 
 beech lay like a bloodstain on the hillside. In 
 front a herd of pigs routed among the mast, 
 and grunted lazily; and high above us a boy 
 lay watching them. "We part here," I said to 
 my companion. It was my plan to ride a little 
 way on the road to Auch so as to blind his eyes ; 
 then, leaving my horse in the forest, I would go 
 on foot to the Chateau. 
 
 " The sooner the better ! " he answered, with a 
 snarl. " And I hope I may never see your face 
 again, Monsieur ! " 
 
 But when we came to the wooden cross at the 
 fork of the roads, and were about to part, the boy 
 we had seen leapt out of the fern and came to 
 meet us. " Hollo ! " he cried, in a sing-song tone. 
 
 " Well ! " my companion answered, drawing 
 rein impatiently. " What is it ? "
 
 UNDER THE PIC DU MIDI. 149 
 
 " There are soldiers in the village." 
 
 " Soldiers ? " Antoine cried incredulously. 
 
 " Ay, devils on horseback ! " the lad answered, 
 spitting on the ground. " Three score of them ! 
 From Audi!" 
 
 Antoine turned to me, his face transformed 
 with fury. " Curse you ! " he cried. " This is 
 some of your work ! Now we are all undone ! 
 And my mistresses! Sacr/f if I had that gun 
 I would shoot you like a rat ! " 
 
 " Steady, fool ! " I answered roughly. " I 
 know no more of this than you do ! " 
 
 This was so true that my surprise was as great 
 as his. The Cardinal, who rarely made a change 
 of front, had sent me hither that he might not 
 be forced to send soldiers, and run the risk of 
 all that might arise from such a movement. 
 What of this invasion, then, than which nothing 
 could be less consistent with his plans ? I won- 
 dered. It was possible, of course, that the trav- 
 elling merchants, before whom I had played at 
 treason, had reported the facts ; and that on 
 this the Commandant at Auch had acted. But 
 it seemed unlikely. He had had his orders, too*
 
 ISO UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 and, under the Cardinal's rule, there was small 
 place for individual enterprise. I could not 
 understand it. 
 
 One thing was clear, however. I might now 
 enter the village as I pleased. " I am going on 
 to look into this," I said to Antoine. " Come, 
 my man." 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders, and stood still. 
 " Not I ! " he answered, with an oath. " No 
 soldiers for me! I have lain out one night, and 
 I can lie out another ! " 
 
 I nodded indifferently, for I no longer wanted 
 him ; and we parted. After this, twenty minutes' 
 riding brought me to the entrance of the village ; 
 and here the change was great indeed. Not 
 one of the ordinary dwellers in the place was 
 to be seen : either they had shut themselves up 
 in their hovels, or, like Antoine, they had fled to 
 the woods. Their doors were closed, their win- 
 dows shuttered. But lounging about the street 
 were a score of dragoons, in boots and breast- 
 plates, whose short-barrelled muskets, with pouches 
 and bandoliers attached, were piled near the inn 
 door. In an open space where there was a gap
 
 UNDER THE PIC DU MIDI. 151 
 
 in the street, a long row of horses, linked head 
 to head, stood bending their muzzles over bundles 
 of rough forage, and on all sides the cheerful 
 jingle of chains and bridles and the sound of 
 coarse jokes and laughter filled the air. 
 
 As I rode up to the inn door an old sergeant, 
 with squinting eyes and his tongue in his cheeks, 
 eyed me inquisitively, and started to cross the 
 street to challenge me. Fortunately, at that 
 moment the two knaves whom I had brought 
 from Paris with me, and whom I had left at 
 Auch to await my orders, came up. I made 
 them a sign not to speak to me, and they passed 
 on ; but I suppose that they told the sergeant 
 that I was not the man he wanted, for I saw no 
 more of him. 
 
 After picketing my horse behind the inn I 
 could find no better stable, every place being 
 full I pushed my way through the group at 
 the door, and entered. The old room, with the 
 low grimy roof and the reeking floor, was half 
 full of strange figures, and for a few minutes I 
 stood unseen in the smoke and confusion. Then 
 the landlord came my way, and as he passed
 
 I $2 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 me I caught his eye. He uttered a low curse, 
 dropped the pitcher he was carrying, and stood 
 glaring at me, like a man possessed. 
 
 The soldier whose wine he was carrying flung 
 a crust in his face, with, " Now, greasy ringers ! 
 What are you staring at ? " 
 
 " The devil ! " the landlord muttered, beginning 
 to tremble. 
 
 " Then let me look at him ! " the man retorted 
 and he turned on his stool. 
 
 He started, rinding me standing over him. 
 " At your service ! " I said grimly. " A little 
 time and it will be the other way, my friend."
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 A MASTER STROKE. . 
 
 I HAVE a way with me which commonly com- 
 mands respect; and when the landlord's first 
 terror was over and he would serve me, I managed 
 to get my supper -the first good meal I had 
 had in two days pretty comfortably in spite 
 of the soldiers' presence. The crowd, too, which 
 filled the room, soon began to melt. The men 
 strayed off in groups to water their horses, or 
 went to hunt up their quarters, until only two 
 or three were left. Dusk had fallen outside; 
 the noise in the street grew less. The firelight 
 began to glow and flicker on the walls, and the 
 wretched room to look as homely as it was in 
 its nature to look. I was pondering for the 
 twentieth time what step I should take next 
 under these new circumstances and why the 
 soldiers were here, and whether I should let
 
 154 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 the night pass before I moved, when the door, 
 which had been turning on its hinges almost 
 without pause for an hour, opened again, and a 
 woman came in. 
 
 She paused a moment on the threshold look- 
 ing round, and I saw that she had a shawl on 
 her head and a milk-pitcher in her hand, and 
 that her feet and ankles were bare. There was 
 a great rent in .her coarse stuff petticoat, and 
 the hand which held the shawl together was 
 brown and dirty. More I did not see ; supposing 
 her to be a neighbour stolen in now that the 
 house was quiet to get some milk for her child 
 or the like, I took no further heed of her. I 
 turned to the fire again and plunged into my 
 thoughts. 
 
 But to get to the hearth where the goodwife 
 was fidgeting, the woman had to pass in front 
 of me ; and as she passed I suppose she stole a 
 look at me from under her shawl. For just 
 when she came between me and the blaze she 
 uttered a low cry and shrank aside so quickly 
 that she almost stepped on the hearth. The 
 next moment she turned her back to me and
 
 One of the men who remained at the table laughed, and the
 
 A MASTER STROKE. 155 
 
 was stooping, whispering in the housewife's ear. 
 A stranger might have thought that she had 
 merely trodden on a hot ember. 
 
 But another idea, and a very sharp one, came 
 into my mind; and I stood up silently. The 
 woman's back was towards me, but something 
 in her height, her shape, the pose of her head, 
 hidden as it was by her shawl, seemed famil- 
 iar. I waited while she hung over the fire 
 whispering, and while the goodwife slowly filled 
 her pitcher out of the great black pot. But when 
 she turned to go, I took a step forward so as 
 to bar her way. And our eyes met. 
 
 I could not see her features ; they were lost 
 in the shadow of the hood. But I saw a shiver 
 run through her from head to foot. And I 
 knew then that I had made no mistake. 
 
 " That is too heavy for you, my girl," I said 
 familiarly, as I might have spoken to a village 
 wench. " I will carry it for you." 
 
 One of the men, who remained lolling at the 
 table, laughed, and the other began to sing a 
 low song. The woman trembled in rage or fear, 
 but she kept silence and let me take the jug
 
 156 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 from her hands. And when I went to the door 
 and opened it, she followed mechanically. An 
 instant, and the door fell to behind us, shutting 
 off the light and glow, and we two stood together 
 in the growing dusk. 
 
 " It is late for you to be out, Mademoiselle," 
 I said politely. "You might meet with some 
 rudeness, dressed as you are. Permit me to see 
 you home." 
 
 She shuddered, and I thought I heard her sob, 
 but she did not answer. Instead, she turned and 
 walked quickly through the village in the direc- 
 tion of the Chateau, keeping in the shadow of the 
 houses. I carried the pitcher and walked beside 
 her; and in the dark I smiled. I knew how 
 shame and impotent rage were working in her. 
 This was something like revenge ! 
 
 Presently I spoke. "Well, Mademoiselle," I 
 said. " Where are your grooms ? " 
 
 She gave me one look, her eyes blazing with 
 anger, her face like hate itself ; and after that 
 I said no more, but left her in peace, and con- 
 tented myself with walking at her shoulder until 
 we came to the end of the village, where the
 
 A MASTER STROKE. Itf 
 
 track to the great house plunged into the wood. 
 There she stopped, and turned on me like a 
 wild creature at bay. " What do you want ? " 
 she cried hoarsely, breathing as if she had been 
 running. 
 
 "To see you safe to the house," I answered 
 coolly. 
 
 " And if I will not ? " she retorted. 
 
 "The choice does not lie with you, Mademoi- 
 selle," I answered sternly. " You will go to the 
 house with me, and on the way you will give 
 me an interview ; but not here. Here we are not 
 private enough. We may be interrupted at any 
 moment, and I wish to speak to you at length." 
 
 I saw her shiver. " What if I will not ? " 
 she said again. 
 
 " I might call to the nearest soldiers and tell 
 them who you are," I answered coolly. " I 
 might, but I should not. That were a clumsy 
 way of punishing you, and I know a better way. 
 I should go to the captain, Mademoiselle, and 
 tell him whose horse is locked up in the inn 
 stable. A trooper told me as some one had 
 told him that it belonged to one of his officers;
 
 1 58 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 but I looked through the crack, and I knew the 
 horse again." 
 
 She could not repress a groan. I waited. Still 
 she did not speak. " Shall I go to the captain ? " 
 I said ruthlessly. 
 
 She shook the hood back from her face, and 
 looked at me. " Oh, you coward ! you coward ! " 
 she hissed through her teeth. "If I had a 
 knife ! " 
 
 " But you have not, Mademoiselle," I answered, 
 unmoved. " Be good enough, therefore, to make up 
 your mind which it is to be. Am I to go with my 
 news to the captain, or am I to come with you ? " 
 
 " Give me the pitcher ! " she said harshly. 
 
 I did so, wondering. In a moment she flung 
 it with a savage gesture far into the bushes. 
 " Come ! " she said, " if you will. But some day 
 God will punish you ! " 
 
 Without another word she turned and entered 
 the path through the trees, and I followed her. 
 I suppose every turn in its course, every hollow 
 and broken place in it had been known to her 
 from childhood, for she followed it swiftly and 
 unerringly, barefoot as she was. I had to walk
 
 A MASTER STROKE. 159 
 
 fast through the darkness to keep up with her. 
 The wood was quiet, but the frogs were beginning 
 to croak in the pool, and their persistent chorus 
 reminded me of the night when I had come to 
 the house-door hurt and worn out, and Clon had 
 admitted me, and she had stood under the gallery 
 in the hall. Things had looked dark then. I had 
 seen but a very little way ahead. Now all was 
 plain. The Commandant might be here with all 
 his soldiers, but it was I who held the strings. 
 
 We came to the little wooden bridge and saw 
 beyond the dark meadows the lights of the house. 
 All the windows were bright. Doubtless the 
 troopers were making merry. " Now, Made- 
 moiselle," I said quietly. " I must trouble you 
 to stop here, and give me your attention for a 
 few minutes. Afterwards you may go your way." 
 
 "Speak! " she said defiantly. "And be quick! 
 I cannot breathe the air where you are ! It poi- 
 sons me ! " 
 
 "Ah!" I said slowly. "Do you think you 
 make things better by such speeches as those ? " 
 
 " Oh ! " she cried and I heard her teeth click 
 together. " Would you have me fawn on you ? "
 
 160 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 " Perhaps not," I answered. " Still you make 
 one mistake." 
 
 "What is it?" she panted. 
 
 "You forget that I am to be feared as well 
 as loathed!" I answered grimly. "Ay, Made- 
 moiselle, to be feared!" I continued. " Do you 
 think that I do not know why you are here in this 
 guise ? Do you think that I do not know for 
 whom that pitcher of broth was intended ? Or 
 who will now have to fast to-night ? I tell you 
 I know all these things. Your house is full of 
 soldiers ; your servants were watched and could 
 not leave. You had to come yourself and get 
 food for him ! " 
 
 She clutched at the hand-rail of the bridge, and 
 for an instant clung to it for support. Her face, 
 from which the shawl had fallen, glimmered 
 white in the shadow of the trees. At last I had 
 shaken her pride. At last ! " What is your 
 price ? " she murmured faintly. 
 
 " I am going to tell you," I replied, speaking 
 so that every word might fall distinctly on her 
 ears, and sating my eyes on her proud face. I 
 had never dreamed of such revenge as this !
 
 A MASTER STROKE. l6l 
 
 "About a fortnight ago, M. de Cocheforet left 
 here at night with a little orange-coloured sachet 
 in his possession." 
 
 She uttered a stifled cry, and drew herself 
 stiffly erect. 
 
 " It contained but there, Mademoiselle, you 
 know its contents," I went on. "Whatever they 
 were, M. de Cocheforet lost it and them at start- 
 ing. A week ago he came back unfortunately 
 for himself to seek them." 
 
 She was looking full in my face now. She 
 seemed scarcely to breathe in the intensity of her 
 surprise and expectation. "You had a search 
 made, Mademoiselle," I continued quietly. "Your 
 servants left no place unexplored. The paths, 
 the roads, the very woods were ransacked. But 
 in vain, because all the while the orange sachet 
 lay whole and unopened in my pocket." 
 
 " No ! " she cried impetuously. " You lie, Sir ! 
 The sachet was found, torn open, many leagues 
 from this place ! " 
 
 "Where I threw it, Mademoiselle," I replied, 
 "that I might mislead your rascals and be free 
 to return. Oh ! believe me," I continued, letting
 
 1 62 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 something of myself, something of my triumph, 
 appear at last in my voice. " You have made 
 a mistake ! You would have done better had 
 you trusted me. I am no bundle of sawdust, 
 Mademoiselle, but a man : a man with an arm 
 to shield and a brain to serve, and as I am 
 going to teach you a heart also!" 
 
 She shivered. 
 
 " In the orange-coloured sachet that you lost I 
 believe there were eighteen stones of great value?" 
 
 She made no answer, but she looked at me 
 as if I fascinated her. Her very breath seemed 
 to pause and wait on my words. She was so 
 little conscious of anything else, of anything 
 outside ourselves, that a score of men might 
 have come up behind her unseen and unnoticed. 
 
 I took from my breast a little packet wrapped 
 in soft leather, and held it towards her. "Will 
 you open this ? " I said. " I believe it contains 
 what you lost. That it contains all I will not 
 answer, Mademoiselle, because I spilled the 
 stones on the floor of my room, and I may have 
 failed to find some. But the others can be re- 
 covered I know where they are."
 
 A MASTER STROKE. 163 
 
 She took the packet slowly and began to 
 unroll it, her fingers shaking. A few turns and 
 the mild lustre of the stones made a kind of 
 moonlight in her hands such a shimmering 
 glory of imprisoned light as has ruined many a 
 woman and robbed many a man of his honour. 
 Morbleu ! as I looked at them and as she 
 stood looking at them in dull, entranced per- 
 plexity I wondered how I had come to resist 
 the temptation. 
 
 While I gazed her hands began to waver. " I 
 cannot count," she muttered helplessly. "How 
 many are there ? " 
 
 "In all, eighteen." 
 
 "They should be eighteen," she said. 
 
 She closed her hand on them with that, and 
 opened it again, and did so twice, as if to re- 
 assure herself that the stones were real and that 
 she was not dreaming. Then she turned to 
 me with sudden fierceness, and I saw that her 
 beautiful face, sharpened by the greed of pos- 
 session, was grown as keen and vicious as before. 
 "Well?" she muttered between her teeth. "Your 
 price, man? Your price?"
 
 164 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 " I am coming to it now, Mademoiselle," I 
 said gravely. " It is a simple matter. You re- 
 member the afternoon when I followed you 
 clumsily and thoughtlessly perhaps through 
 the wood to restore these things ? It seems 
 about a month ago. I believe it happened the 
 day before yesterday. You called me then some 
 very harsh names, which I will not hurt you 
 by repeating. The only price I ask for restor- 
 ing your jewels is that you recall those names." 
 
 " How ? " she muttered. " I do not understand." 
 
 I repeated my words very slowly. "The only 
 price or reward I ask, Mademoiselle, is that you 
 take back those names, and say that they were 
 not deserved." 
 
 " And the jewels ? " she exclaimed hoarsely. 
 
 "They are yours. They are nothing to me. 
 Take them, and say that you do not think of 
 me Nay, I cannot say the words, Made- 
 moiselle." 
 
 "But there is something else! What else?" 
 she cried, her head thrown back, her eyes, bright 
 as any wild animal's, searching mine. "Ha! my 
 brother? What of him? What of him, Sir?"
 
 A MASTER STROKE. 1 65 
 
 "For him, Mademoiselle I would prefer that 
 you should tell me no more than I know al- 
 ready," I answered in a low voice. " I do not 
 wish to be in that affair. But yes, there is one 
 thing I have not mentioned. You are right." 
 
 She sighed so deeply that I caught the sound. 
 
 " It is," I continued slowly, " that you will 
 permit me to remain at Cocheforet for a few 
 days, while the soldiers are here. I am told 
 that there are twenty men and two officers quar- 
 tered in your house. Your brother is away. I 
 ask to be permitted, Mademoiselle, to take his 
 place for the time, and to be privileged to protect 
 your sister and yourself from insult. That is all." 
 
 She raised her hand to her head. After a 
 long pause : " The frogs ! " she muttered, " they 
 croak! I cannot hear." 
 
 And then, to my surprise, she turned suddenly 
 on her heel, and walked over the bridge, leaving 
 me there. For a moment I stood aghast, peering 
 after her shadowy figure, and wondering what had 
 taken her. Then, in a minute or less, she came 
 quickly back to me, and I understood. She was 
 crying.
 
 1 66 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 " M. de Barthe," she said, in a trembling voice, 
 which told me that the victory was won. "Is there 
 nothing else ? Have you no other penance for me ? " 
 
 " None, Mademoiselle." 
 
 She had drawn the shawl over her head, and I 
 no longer saw her face. " That is all you ask ? " 
 she murmured. 
 
 " That is all I ask now," I answered. 
 
 " It is granted," she said slowly and firmly. 
 "Forgive me if I seem to speak lightly if I 
 seem to make little of your generosity or my 
 shame ; but I can say no more now. I am so 
 deep in trouble and so gnawed by terror that I 
 cannot feel anything much to-night, either shame 
 or gratitude. I am in a dream; God grant it 
 may pass as a dream ! We are sunk in trouble. 
 But for you and what you have done, M. de 
 Barthe I " she paused and I heard her 
 fighting with the sobs which choked her " for- 
 give me. ... I am overwrought. And my 
 my feet are cold," she added suddenly and irrele- 
 vantly. " Will you take me home ? " 
 
 " Ah, Mademoiselle," I cried remorsefully, " I 
 have been a beast ! You are barefoot, and I 
 have kept you here."
 
 A MASTER STROKE. l6/ 
 
 " It is nothing," she said in a voice which 
 thrilled me. "My heart is warm, Monsieur 
 thanks to you. It is many hours since it has 
 been as warm." 
 
 She stepped out of the shadow as she spoke 
 and there, the thing was done. As I had 
 planned, so it had come about. Once more I 
 was crossing the meadow in the dark to be re- 
 ceived at Cocheforet a welcome guest. The 
 frogs croaked in the pool and a bat swooped 
 round us in circles ; and surely never never, 
 I thought, with a kind of exultation in my 
 breast had man been placed in a stranger 
 position. 
 
 Somewhere in the black wood behind us 
 probably in the outskirts of the village lurked 
 M. de Cocheforet. In the great house before 
 us, outlined by a score of lighted windows, were 
 the soldiers come from Auch to take him. Be- 
 tween the two, moving side by side in the dark- 
 ness, in a silence which each found to be eloquent, 
 were Mademoiselle and I : she who knew so much, 
 I who knew all all but one little thing! 
 
 We reached the house, and I suggested that
 
 1 68 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 she should steal in first by the way she had come 
 out, and that I should wait a little and knock at 
 the door when she had had time to explain mat- 
 ters to Clon. 
 
 " They do not let me see Clon," she answered 
 slowly. 
 
 " Then your woman must tell him," I rejoined. 
 " Or he may say something and betray me." 
 
 " They will not let our woman come to us." 
 
 " What ? " I cried, astonished. " But this is 
 infamous. You are not prisoners ! " 
 
 Mademoiselle laughed harshly. "Are we not? 
 Well, I suppose not; for if we wanted company, 
 Captain Larolle said he would be delighted to 
 see us in the parlour." 
 
 " He has taken your parlour ? " I said. 
 
 " He and his lieutenant sit there. But I sup- 
 pose we should be thankful," she added bitterly. 
 " We have still our bed-rooms left to us." 
 
 " Very well," I said. " Then I must deal with 
 Clon as I can. But I have still a favour to 
 ask, Mademoiselle. It is only that you and your 
 sister will descend to-morrow at your usual time. 
 I shall be in the parlour."
 
 A MASTER STROKE. 169 
 
 " I would rather not," she said, pausing and 
 speaking in a troubled voice. 
 
 " Are you afraid ? " 
 
 " No, Monsieur ; I am not afraid," she an- 
 swered proudly. " But " 
 
 " You will come ? " I said. 
 
 She sighed before she spoke. At length, " Yes, 
 I will come if you wish it," she answered; and 
 the next moment she was gone round the corner 
 of the house, while I laughed to think of the 
 excellent watch these gallant gentlemen were 
 keeping. M. de Cocheforet might have been 
 with her in the garden, might have talked with 
 her as I had talked, might have entered the house 
 even, and passed under their noses scot-free. But 
 that is the way of soldiers. They are always 
 ready for the enemy, with drums beating and 
 flags flying at ten o'clock in the morning. 
 But he does not always come at that hour. 
 
 I waited a little, and then I groped my way to 
 the door, and knocked on it with the hilt of my 
 sword. The dogs began to bark at the back, and 
 the chorus of a drinking-song, which came fitfully 
 from the east wing, ceased altogether. An inner
 
 I/O UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 door opened, and an angry voice, apparently an 
 officer's, began to rate some one for not coming. 
 Another moment, and a clamour of voices and 
 footsteps seemed to pour into the hall, and fill 
 it. I heard the bar jerked away, the door was 
 flung open, and in a twinkling a lanthorn, behind 
 which a dozen flushed visages were dimly seen, 
 was thrust into my face. 
 
 " Why, who the fiend is this ? " cried one, glar- 
 ing at me in astonishment. 
 
 " Morbleu ! It is the man ! " another shrieked. 
 " Seize him ! " 
 
 In a moment half a dozen hands were laid on 
 my shoulders, but I only bowed politely. " The 
 officer, my friends," I said, " M. le Capitaine 
 Larolle. Where is he ? " 
 
 " Diable ! but who are you, first ? " the lanthorn- 
 bearer retorted bluntly. He was a tall, lanky 
 sergeant, with a sinister face. 
 
 " Well, I am not M. de Cocheforet," I replied ; 
 " and that must satisfy you, my man. For the 
 rest, if you do not fetch Captain Larolle at once 
 and admit me, you will find the consequences 
 inconvenient."
 
 A MASTER STROKE. Ijl 
 
 "Ho! ho!" he said, with a sneer. "You can 
 crow, it seems. Well, come in." 
 
 They made way, and I walked into the hall, 
 keeping my hat on. On the great hearth a fire 
 had been kindled, but it had gone out. Three 
 or four carbines stood against one wall, and beside 
 them lay a heap of haversacks and some straw. 
 A shattered stool, broken in a frolic, and half 
 a dozen empty wine-skins strewed the floor, and 
 helped to give the place an air of untidiness and 
 disorder. I looked round with eyes of disgust, 
 and my gorge rose. They had spilled oil, and 
 the place reeked foully. 
 
 " Ventre bleu ! " I said. " Is this conduct in 
 a gentleman's house, you rascals ? Ma vie ! If 
 I had you, I would send half of you to the 
 wooden horse ! " 
 
 They gazed at me open-mouthed. My arro- 
 gance startled them. The sergeant alone scowled. 
 When he could find his voice for rage 
 
 " This way ! " he said. " We did not know 
 a general officer was coming, or we would have 
 been better prepared ! " And muttering oaths 
 under his breath, he led me down the well-known
 
 1/2 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 passage. At the door of the parlour he stopped. 
 " Introduce yourself ! " he said rudely. " And if 
 you find the air warm, don't blame me ! " 
 
 I raised the latch and went in. At a table in 
 front of the hearth, half covered with glasses and 
 bottles, sat two men playing hazard. The dice 
 rang sharply as I entered, and he who had just 
 thrown kept the box over them while he turned, 
 scowling, to see who came in. He was a fair- 
 haired, blonde man, large-framed and florid. He 
 had put off his cuirass and boots, and his doublet 
 showed frayed and stained where the armour had 
 pressed on it. But otherwise he was in the 
 extreme of last year's fashion. His deep cravat, 
 folded over so that the laced ends drooped a little 
 in front, was of the finest ; his great sash of blue 
 and silver was a foot wide. He had a little jewel 
 in one ear, and his tiny beard was peaked d FEs- 
 pagnole. Probably when he turned he expected 
 to see the sergeant, for at sight of me he rose 
 slowly, leaving the dice still covered. 
 
 " What folly is this ? " he cried wrathfully. 
 "Here, Sergeant! Sergeant! without there! 
 What the ! Who are you, Sir ? "
 
 A MASTER STROKE. 1/3 
 
 " Captain Larolle," I said, uncovering politely, 
 "I believe?" 
 
 "Yes, I am Captain Larolle," he retorted. 
 " But who, in the fiend's name, are you ? You 
 are not the man we are after ! " 
 
 " I am not M. Cocheforet," I said coolly. " I 
 am merely a guest in the house, M. le Capitaine. 
 I have been enjoying Madame de Cocheforet's 
 hospitality for some time, but by an evil chance 
 I was away when you arrived." And with that 
 I walked to the hearth, and, gently pushing aside 
 his great boots which stood there drying, kicked 
 the logs into a blaze. 
 
 " Mille diables!" he whispered. And never 
 did I see a man more confounded. But I affected 
 to be taken up with his companion, a sturdy, 
 white-mustachioed old veteran, who sat back in 
 his chair, eyeing me, with swollen cheeks and 
 eyes surcharged with surprise. 
 
 " Good evening, M. le Lieutenant," I said, bow- 
 ing gravely. " It is a fine night." 
 
 Then the storm burst. 
 
 " Fine night ! " the captain shrieked, finding 
 his voice again. " Mille diables ! Are you aware,
 
 174 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 Sir, that I am in possession of this house, and 
 that no one harbours here without my permis- 
 sion ? Guest! Hospitality! Lieutenant call the 
 guard ! Call the guard ! " he continued passion- 
 ately. " Where is that ape of a sergeant ? " 
 
 The lieutenant rose to obey, but I lifted my hand. 
 
 " Gently, gently, Captain," I said. " Not so 
 fast ! You seem surprised to see me here. Be- 
 lieve me, I am much more surprised to see you." 
 
 " Sacr/f" he cried, recoiling at this fresh imper- 
 tinence, whi-le the lieutenant's eyes almost jumped 
 out of his head. 
 
 But nothing moved me. 
 
 " Is the door closed ? " I said sweetly. " Thank 
 you; it is, I see. Then permit me to say again, 
 gentlemen, that I am much more surprised to see 
 you than you can be to see me. When Mon- 
 seigneur the Cardinal honoured me by sending 
 me from Paris to conduct this matter, he gave 
 me the fullest the fullest powers, M. le Capi- 
 taine to see the affair to an end. I was not 
 led to expect that my plans would be spoiled on 
 the eve of success by the intrusion of half the 
 garrison from Auch ! "
 
 A MASTER STROKE. I?$ 
 
 " O ho ! " the captain said softly in a very 
 different tone and with a very different face. " So 
 you are the gentleman I heard of at Auch?" 
 
 " Very likely," I said drily. " But I am from 
 Paris, not Auch." 
 
 " To be sure," he answered thoughtfully. " Eh, 
 Lieutenant?" 
 
 "Yes, M. le Capitaine, no doubt," the inferior 
 replied. And they both looked at one another, 
 and then at me, in a way I did not understand. 
 
 "I think," said I, to clinch the matter, "that 
 you have made a mistake, Captain ; or the Com- 
 mandant has. And it occurs to me that the 
 Cardinal will not be best pleased." 
 
 "I hold the King's commission," he answered 
 rather stiffly. 
 
 "To be sure," I replied. "But you see the 
 Cardinal " 
 
 "Ah, but the Cardinal " he rejoined quickly; 
 and then he stopped and shrugged his shoulders. 
 And they both looked at me. 
 
 "Well?" I said. 
 
 "The King," he answered slowly. 
 
 " Tut-tut ! " I exclaimed, spreading out my
 
 1/6 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 hands. "The Cardinal. Let us stick to him. 
 You were saying ? " 
 
 "Well, the Cardinal, you see " And then 
 again, after the same words, he stopped stopped 
 abruptly and shrugged his shoulders. 
 
 I began to suspect something. " If you have 
 anything to say against Monseigneur," I answered, 
 watching him narrowly, " say it. But take a word 
 of advice. Don't let it go beyond the door of 
 this room, my friend, and it will do you no 
 harm." 
 
 " Neither here nor outside," he retorted, look- 
 ing for a moment at his comrade. " Only I hold 
 the King's commission. That is all. And I 
 think enough. For the rest, will you throw a 
 main ? Good ! Lieutenant, find a glass, and the 
 gentleman a seat. And here, for my part, I will 
 give you a toast. The Cardinal whatever be- 
 tide ! " 
 
 I drank it, and sat down to play with him; 
 I had not heard the music of the dice for a 
 month, and the temptation was irresistible. But 
 I was not satisfied. I called the mains and 
 won his crowns, he was a mere baby at the
 
 A MASTER STROKE. 177 
 
 game, but half my mind was elsewhere. There 
 was something here I did not understand; some 
 influence at work on which I had not counted; 
 something moving under the surface as unintel- 
 ligible to me as the soldiers' presence. Had the 
 captain repudiated my commission altogether, and 
 put me to the door or sent me to the guard-house, 
 I could have followed that. But these dubious 
 hints, this passive resistance, puzzled me. Had 
 they news from Paris, I wondered. Was the 
 King dead ? or the Cardinal ill ? I asked them. 
 But they said no, no, no to all, and gave me 
 guarded answers. And midnight found us still 
 playing ; and still fencing.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE QUESTION. 
 
 " SWEEP the room, Monsieur ? And remove 
 this medley ? But, M. le Capitaine " 
 
 "The captain is at the village," I replied 
 sternly. " And do you move ! move, man, and 
 the thing will be done while you are talking about 
 it. Set the door into the garden open so ! " 
 
 " Certainly, it is a fine morning. And the 
 tobacco of M. le Lieutenant But M. le Capi- 
 taine did not " 
 
 " Give orders ? Well, I give them ! " I an- 
 swered. " First of all, remove these beds. And 
 bustle, man, bustle, or I will find something to 
 quicken you." 
 
 In a moment "And M. le Capitaine's riding- 
 boots ? " 
 
 " Place them in the passage," I replied. 
 178
 
 THE QUESTION. 
 
 " Oht! In the passage ? " He paused, look- 
 ing at them in doubt. 
 
 "Yes, booby; in the passage." 
 
 "And the cloaks, Monsieur?" 
 
 "There is a bush handy outside the window. 
 Let them air." 
 
 " O/i/, the bush ? Well, to be sure they are 
 damp. But yes, yes, Monsieur, it is done. 
 And the holsters ? " 
 
 "There also!" I said harshly. "Throw them 
 out. Faugh ! The place reeks of leather. Now, 
 a clean hearth. And set the table before the open 
 door, so that we may see the garden. So. And 
 tell the cook that we shall dine at eleven, and 
 that Madame and Mademoiselle will descend." 
 
 "O/i/f But M. le Capitaine ordered the dinner 
 for half past eleven ? " 
 
 " It must be advanced, then ; and, mark you, 
 my friend, if it is not ready when Madame comes 
 down, you will suffer, and the cook too." 
 
 When he was gone on his errand, I looked 
 round. What else was lacking ? The sun shone 
 cheerily on the polished floor ; the air, freshened 
 by the rain which had fallen in the night, entered 
 
 N 2
 
 180 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 freely through the open doorway. A few bees 
 lingering with the summer hummed outside. The 
 fire crackled bravely; an old hound, blind and 
 past work, lay warming its hide on the hearth. 
 I could think of nothing more, and I stood and 
 watched the man set out the table and spread 
 the cloth. " For how many, Monsieur ? " he 
 asked, in a scared tone. 
 
 "For five," I answered; and I could not help 
 smiling at myself. What would Zaton's say could 
 it see Berault turned housewife ? There was a 
 white glazed cup an old-fashioned piece of the 
 second Henry's time standing on a shelf. I 
 took it down and put some late flowers in it, and 
 set it in the middle of the table, and stood off 
 myself to look at it. But a moment later, think- 
 ing I heard them coming, I hurried it away in a 
 kind of panic, feeling on a sudden ashamed of 
 the thing. The alarm proved to be false, how- 
 ever; and then again, taking another turn, I set 
 the piece back. I had done nothing so foolish 
 for for more years than I liked to count. 
 
 But when Madame and Mademoiselle came, 
 they had eyes neither for the flowers nor the
 
 THE QUESTION. l8l 
 
 room. They had heard that the captain was out 
 beating the village and the woods for the fugitive, 
 and where I had looked for a comedy I found 
 a tragedy. Madame's face was so red with weep- 
 ing that all her beauty was gone. She started 
 and shook at the slightest sound, and, unable 
 to find any words to answer my greeting, could 
 only sink into a chair and sit crying silently. 
 
 Mademoiselle was in a mood scarcely more 
 cheerful. She did not weep, but her manner 
 was hard and fierce. She spoke absently and 
 answered fretfully. Her eyes glittered, and she 
 had the air of straining her ears continually to 
 catch some dreaded sound. " There is no news, 
 Monsieur ? " she said, as she took her seat. And 
 she shot a swift look at me. 
 
 " None, Mademoiselle." 
 
 " They are searching the village ? " 
 
 " I believe so." 
 
 " Where is Clon ? " This in a lower voice, 
 and with a kind of shrinking in her face. 
 
 I shook my head. " I believe they have him 
 confined somewhere. And Louis, too," I said. 
 " But I have not seen either of them."
 
 1 82 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 " And where are ? I thought these people 
 would be here," she muttered. And she glanced 
 askance at the two vacant places. The servant 
 had brought in the meal. 
 
 " They will be here presently," I said coolly. 
 "Let us make the most of the time. A little 
 wine and food will do Madame good." 
 
 She smiled rather sadly. " I think we have 
 changed places," she said ; " and that you have 
 turned host, and we guests." 
 
 " Let it be so," I said cheerfully. " I recom- 
 mend some of this ragout. Come, Mademoiselle ; 
 fasting can aid no one. A full meal has saved 
 many a man's life." 
 
 It was clumsily said perhaps, for she shud- 
 dered and looked at me with a ghastly smile. 
 But she persuaded her sister to taste something ; 
 and she took something on her own plate and 
 raised her fork to her lips. But in a moment 
 she laid it down again. " I cannot," she mur- 
 mured. " I cannot swallow. Oh, my God, at 
 this moment they may be taking him ! " 
 
 I thought that she was about to burst into 
 a passion of tears, and I repented that I had
 
 THE QUESTION. 183 
 
 induced her to descend. But her self-control 
 was not yet exhausted. By an effort painful 
 to see, she recovered her composure. She took 
 up her fork, and ate a few mouthfuls. Then 
 she looked at me with a fierce under-look. " I 
 want to see Clon," she whispered feverishly. 
 The man who waited on us had left the room. 
 
 " He knows ? " I said. 
 
 She nodded, her beautiful face strangely dis- 
 figured. Her closed teeth showed between her 
 lips. Two red spots burned in her white cheeks, 
 and she breathed quickly. I felt, as I looked 
 at her, a sudden pain at my heart; and a shud- 
 dering fear, such as a man awaking to find him- 
 self falling over a precipice, might feel. How 
 these women loved the man ! 
 
 For a moment I could not speak. When I 
 found my voice it sounded dry and husky. "He 
 is a safe confidant," I muttered. " He can 
 neither speak nor write, Mademoiselle." 
 
 "No, but " and then her face became fixed. 
 " They are coming," she whispered. " Hush ! " 
 She rose stiffly, and stood supporting herself by 
 the table. " Have they have they found
 
 1 84 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 him ? " she muttered. The woman by her side 
 wept on, unconscious what was impending. 
 
 I heard the captain stumble far down the 
 passage, and swear loudly; and I touched 
 Mademoiselle's hand. " They have not ! " I 
 whispered. "All is well, Mademoiselle. Pray, 
 pray calm yourself. Sit down, and meet them 
 as if nothing were the matter. And your sister ! 
 Madame, Madame," I cried, almost harshly, 
 " compose yourself. Remember that you have 
 a part to play." 
 
 My appeal did something. Madame stifled 
 her sobs. Mademoiselle drew a deep breath 
 and sat down ; and though she was still pale 
 and still trembled, the worst was past. 
 
 And just in time. The door flew open with 
 a crash. The captain stumbled into the room, 
 swearing afresh. " Sacr/ nom du Diable ! " he 
 cried, his face crimson with rage. " What fool 
 placed these things here? My boots? My 
 
 His jaw fell. He stopped on the word, 
 stricken silent by the new aspect of the room, 
 by the sight of the little party at the table, 
 by all the changes I had worked. " Saint
 
 THE QUESTION. 185 
 
 Siege!" he muttered. "What is this?" The 
 lieutenant's grizzled face peering over his shoul- 
 der completed the picture. 
 
 "You are rather late, M. le Capitaine," I said 
 cheerfully. " Madame's hour is eleven. But 
 come, here are your seats waiting for you." 
 
 " Mille tonnerres!" he muttered, advancing 
 into the room, and glaring at us. 
 
 "I am afraid the ragout is cold," I continued, 
 peering into the dish and affecting to see noth- 
 ing. "The soup, however, has been kept hot by 
 the fire. But I think you do not see Madame." 
 
 He opened his mouth to swear, but for the 
 moment thought better of it. "Who who put 
 my boots in the passage ? " he asked, his voice 
 thick with rage. He did not bow to the ladies, 
 or take any notice of their presence. 
 
 " One of the men, I suppose," I said indiffer- 
 ently. "Is anything missing?" 
 
 He glared at me. Then his cloak, spread 
 outside, caught his eye He strode through the 
 door, saw his holsters lying on the grass, and 
 other things strewn about. He came back. 
 "Whose monkey game is this?" he snarled, and
 
 1 86 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 his face was very ugly. " Who is at the bottom 
 of this? Speak, Sir, or I " 
 
 " Tut-tut ! the ladies ! " I said. " You forget 
 yourself, Monsieur." 
 
 " Forget myself ? " he hissed, and this time 
 he did not check his oath. " Don't talk to me 
 of the ladies! Madame? Bah! Do you think, 
 fool, that we are put into rebels' houses to bow 
 and smile and take dancing lessons ? " 
 
 " In this case a lesson in politeness were more 
 to the point, Monsieur," I said sternly. And I 
 rose. 
 
 " Was it by your orders that this was done ? " 
 he retorted, his brow black with passion. "An- 
 swer, will you ? " 
 
 " It was ! " I replied outright. 
 
 " Then take that ! " he cried, dashing his hat 
 violently in my face. "And come outside." 
 
 "With pleasure, Monsieur," I answered, bow- 
 ing. " In one moment. Permit me to find my 
 sword. I think it is in the passage." 
 
 I went thither to get it. When I returned I 
 found that the two men were waiting for me in 
 the garden, while the ladies had risen from the.
 
 THE QUESTION. 1 87 
 
 table and were standing near it with blanched 
 faces. " You had better take your sister upstairs, 
 Mademoiselle," I said gently, pausing a moment 
 beside them. " Have no fear. All will be well." 
 
 " But what is it ? " she answered, looking 
 troubled. " It was so sudden. I am I did not 
 understand. You quarrelled so quickly." 
 
 " It is very simple," I answered, smiling. 
 " M. le Capitaine insulted you yesterday ; he will 
 pay for it to-day. That is all. Or, not quite all," 
 I continued, dropping my voice and speaking in 
 a different tone. " His removal may help you, 
 Mademoiselle. Do you understand? I think 
 that there will be no more searching to-day." 
 
 She uttered an exclamation, grasping my arm 
 and peering into my face. " You will kill him ? " 
 she muttered. 
 
 I nodded. " Why not ? " I said. 
 
 She caught her breath and stood with one hand 
 clasped to her bosom, gazing at me with parted 
 lips, the blood mounting to her cheeks. Gradually 
 the flush melted into a fierce smile. "Yes, yes, 
 why not ? " she repeated, between her teeth. 
 "Why not?" She had her hand on my arm,
 
 1 88' UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 and I felt her fingers tighten until I could have 
 winced. " Why not ? So you planned this for 
 us, Monsieur?" 
 
 I nodded. 
 
 "But can you?" 
 
 " Safely," I said ; then, muttering to her to take 
 her sister upstairs, I turned towards the garden. 
 My foot was already on the threshold, and I was 
 composing my face to meet the enemy, when I 
 heard a movement behind me. The next mo- 
 ment her hand was on my arm. "Wait! Wait 
 a moment ! Come back ! " she panted. I turned. 
 The smile and flush had vanished ; her face was 
 pale. " No ! " she said abruptly. " I was wrong ! 
 I will not have it. I will have no part in it! 
 You planned it last night, M. de Barthe. It is 
 murder." 
 
 " Mademoiselle ! " I exclaimed, wondering. 
 "Murder? Why? It is a duel." 
 
 " It is murder," she answered persistently. 
 "You planned it last night. You said so." 
 
 " But I risk my own life," I replied sharply. 
 
 " Nevertheless I will have no part in it," 
 she answered more faintly. " It will bring no
 
 THE QUESTION. 189 
 
 good." She was trembling with agitation. Her 
 eyes avoided mine. 
 
 " On my shoulders be it then ! " I replied 
 stoutly. "It is too late, Mademoiselle, to go 
 back. They are waiting for me. Only, before 
 I go, let me beg of you to retire." 
 
 And I turned from her, and went out, won- 
 dering and thinking. First, that women were 
 strange things. Secondly murder? Merely 
 because I had planned the duel and provoked 
 the quarrel! Never had I heard anything so 
 preposterous. Grant it, and dub every man who 
 kept his honour with his hands a Cain and a 
 good many branded faces would be seen in some 
 streets. I laughed at the fancy, as I strode down 
 the garden walk. 
 
 And yet, perhaps, I was going to do a foolish 
 thing. The lieutenant would still be here : a* hard, 
 bitter man, of stiffer stuff than his captain. And 
 the troopers. What if, when I had killed their 
 leader, they made the place too hot for me, Mon- 
 seigneur's commission notwithstanding ? I should 
 look silly, indeed, if on the eve of success I were 
 driven from the place by a parcel of jack-boots.
 
 190 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 I liked the thought so little that I hesitated. 
 Yet it seemed too late to retreat. The captain 
 and the lieutenant were waiting in a little open 
 space fifty yards from the house, where a nar- 
 rower path crossed -the broad walk, down which 
 I had first seen Mademoiselle and her sister pac- 
 ing. The captain had removed his doublet, and 
 stood in his shirt leaning against the sundial, his 
 head bare and his sinewy throat uncovered. He 
 had drawn his rapier and stood pricking the 
 ground impatiently. I marked his strong and 
 nervous frame and his sanguine air : and twenty 
 years earlier the sight might have damped me. 
 But no thought of the kind entered my head now, 
 and though I felt with each moment greater 
 reluctance to engage, doubt of the issue had no 
 place in my calculations. 
 
 I made ready slowly, and would gladly, to gain 
 time, have found some fault with the place. But 
 the sun was sufficiently high to give no advantage 
 to either. The ground was good, the spot well 
 chosen. I could find no excuse to put off the 
 man, and I was about to salute him and fall to 
 work, when a thought crossed my mind.
 
 THE QUESTION. IQI 
 
 " One moment ! " I said. " Supposing I kill 
 you, M. le Capitaine, what becomes of your 
 errand here?" 
 
 " Don't trouble yourself," he answered, with a 
 sneer he had misread my slowness and hesita- 
 tion. " It will not happen, Monsieur. And in 
 any case the thought need not harass you. I 
 have a lieutenant." 
 
 " Yes, but what of my mission ? " I replied 
 bluntly. " I have no lieutenant." 
 
 "You should have thought of that before you 
 interfered with my boots," he retorted, with con- 
 tempt. 
 
 " True," I said, overlooking his manner. " But 
 better late than never. I am not sure, now I 
 think of it, that my duty to Monseigneur will let 
 me fight." 
 
 " You will swallow the blow ? " he cried, spit- 
 ting on the ground offensively. " Diable ! " And 
 the lieutenant, standing on one side with his hands 
 behind him and his shoulders squared, laughed 
 grimly. 
 
 " I have not made up my mind," I answered 
 irresolutely.
 
 1 92 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 " Well, nom de Dieu ! make it up," the captain 
 replied, with an ugly sneer. He took a swagger- 
 ing step this way and that, playing his weapon. 
 " I am afraid, Lieutenant, there will be no sport 
 to-day," he continued, in a loud aside. " Our cock 
 has but a chicken heart." 
 
 " Well ! " I said coolly, " I do not know what to 
 do. Certainly it is a fine day, and a fair piece of 
 ground. And the sun stands well. But I have 
 not much to gain by killing you, M. le Capitaine, 
 and it might get me into an awkward fix. On 
 the other hand, it would not hurt me to let you 
 
 go." 
 
 " Indeed ? " he said contemptuously, looking at 
 me as I should look at a lacquey. 
 
 " No ! " I replied. " For if you were to say 
 that you had struck Gil de Berault, and left the 
 ground with a whole skin, no one would believe 
 you." 
 
 " Gil de Berault ! " he exclaimed, frowning. 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur," I replied suavely. " At your 
 service. You did not know my name?" 
 
 " I thought your name was De Barthe," he 
 said. His voice sounded queerly ; and he waited
 
 THE QUESTION. 193 
 
 for the answer with parted lips, and a shadow in 
 his eyes which I had seen in men's eyes before. 
 
 " No," I said. " That was my mother's name. 
 I took it for this occasion only." 
 
 His florid cheek lost a shade of its colour, and 
 he bit his lips as he glanced at the lieutenant, 
 trouble in his eyes. I had seen these signs before, 
 and knew them, and I might have cried " Chicken- 
 heart ! " in my turn ; but I had not made a way 
 of escape for him before I declared myself 
 for nothing, and I held to my purpose. " I think 
 you will allow now," I said grimly, "that it will 
 not harm me even if I put up with a blow ! " 
 
 " M. de Berault's courage is known," he mut- 
 tered. 
 
 "And with reason," I said. "That being so, 
 suppose we say this day three months, M. le Capi- 
 taine ? The postponement to be for my conven- 
 ience." 
 
 He caught the lieutenant's eye, and looked 
 down sullenly, the conflict in his mind as plain as 
 daylight. He had only to insist, and I must fight ; 
 and if by luck or skill he could master me, his 
 fame as a duellist would run, like a ripple over
 
 194 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 water, through every garrison town in France and 
 make him a name even in Paris. On the other 
 side were the imminent peril of death, the gleam 
 of cold steel already in fancy at his breast, the 
 loss of life and sunshine, and the possibility of a 
 retreat with honour, if without glory. I read his 
 face, and knew before he spoke what he would 
 do. 
 
 " It appears to me that the burden is with 
 you," he said huskily ; " but for my part, I am 
 satisfied." 
 
 "Very well," I said, "I take the burden. Per- 
 mit me to apologize for having caused you to strip 
 unnecessarily. Fortunately the sun is shining." 
 
 " Yes," he said gloomily. And he took his 
 clothes from the sundial, and began to put them 
 on. He had expressed himself satisfied ; but I 
 knew that he was feeling very ill-satisfied with 
 himself, and I was not surprised when he pres- 
 ently said abruptly and almost rudely, " There is 
 one thing I think we must settle here." 
 
 " What is that ? " I asked. 
 
 " Our positions," he blurted out " Or we shall 
 cross one another again within the hour."
 
 THE QUESTION. 195 
 
 " Umph ! I am not quite sure that I under- 
 stand," I said. 
 
 " That is precisely what I don't do under- 
 stand ! " he retorted, in a tone of surly triumph. 
 " Before I came on this duty, I was told that 
 there was a gentleman here, bearing sealed orders 
 from the Cardinal to arrest M. de Cocheforet; 
 and I was instructed to avoid collision with him 
 so far as might be possible. At first I took 
 you for the gentleman. But the plague take 
 me if I understand the matter now." 
 
 "Why not?" I said coldly. 
 
 " Because well, the matter is in a nutshell ! " 
 he answered impetuously. " Are you here on 
 behalf of Madame de Cocheforet to shield her 
 husband ? Or are you here to arrest him ? That 
 is what I don't understand, M. de Berault." 
 
 " If you mean, am I the Cardinal's agent 
 I am ! " I answered sternly. 
 
 "To arrest M. de Cocheforet?" 
 
 "To arrest M. de Cocheforet." 
 
 " Well you surprise me," he said. 
 
 Only that; but he spoke so drily that I felt 
 the blood rush to my face. "Take care, Mon- 
 et 2
 
 196 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 sieur," I said severely. " Do not presume too 
 far on the inconvenience to which your death 
 might put me." 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders. " No offence ! " 
 he said. " But you do not seem, M. de Berault, 
 to comprehend the difficulty. If we do not set- 
 tle things now, we shall be bickering twenty 
 times a day ! " 
 
 " Well, what do you want ? " I asked impa- 
 tiently. 
 
 " Simply to know how you are going to pro- 
 ceed. So that our plans may not clash." 
 
 " But surely, M. le Capitaine, that is my 
 affair ! " I replied. 
 
 " The clashing ? " he answered bitterly. Then 
 he waved aside my wrath. "Pardon," he said, 
 " the point is simply this : How do you propose 
 to find him if he is here ? " 
 
 "That again is my affair," I answered. 
 
 He threw up his hands in despair; but in a 
 moment his place was taken by an unexpected 
 disputant. The lieutenant, who had stood by 
 all the time, listening and tugging at his grey 
 moustache, suddenly spoke. " Look here, M.
 
 THE QUESTION. 
 
 de Berault," he said, confronting me roughly, 
 " I do not fight duels. I am from the ranks. I 
 proved my courage at Montauban in '21, and 
 my honour is good enough to take care of itself. 
 So I say what I like, and I ask you plainly 
 what M. le Capitaine doubtless has in his mind 
 but does not ask : Are you running with the 
 hare and hunting with the hounds in this mat- 
 ter? In other words, have you thrown up Mon- 
 seigneur's commission in all but name and become 
 Madame' s ally ; or it is the only other alter- 
 native are you getting at the man through the 
 women ? " 
 
 " You villain ! " I cried, glaring at him in such 
 a rage and fury I could scarcely get the words 
 out. This was plain speaking with a vengeance ! 
 " How dare you ! How dare you say that I am 
 false to the hand that pays me ? " 
 
 I thought he would blench, but he did not. 
 He stood up stiff as a poker. " I do not say ; 
 I ask ! " he replied, facing me squarely, and 
 slapping his fist into his open hand to drive 
 home his words the better. " I ask you whether 
 you are playing the traitor to the Cardinal ?
 
 198 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 Or to these two women ? It is a simple ques- 
 tion." 
 
 I fairly choked. " You impudent scoundrel," 
 I said. 
 
 " Steady, steady ! " he replied. " Pitch sticks 
 where it belongs. But that is enough. I see 
 which it is, M. le Capitaine; this way a moment, 
 by your leave." 
 
 And in a very cavalier way he took his officer 
 by the arm, and drew him into- a side-walk, 
 leaving me to stand in the sun, bursting with 
 anger and spleen. The gutter-bred rascal ! That 
 such a man should insult me, and with impunity ! 
 In Paris I might have made him fight, but here 
 it was impossible. I was still foaming with rage 
 when they returned. 
 
 "We have come to a determination," the lieu- 
 tenant said, tugging his grey mustachios and 
 standing like a ramrod. "We shall leave you 
 the house and Madame, and you can take your 
 line to find the man. For ourselves, we shall 
 draw off our men to the village, and we shall 
 take our line. That is all, M. le Capitaine, is 
 it not?"
 
 THE QUESTION. 199 
 
 " I think so," the captain muttered, looking 
 anywhere but at me. 
 
 " Then we bid you good-day, Monsieur," the 
 lieutenant added. And in a moment he turned 
 his companion round, and the two retired up the 
 walk to the house, leaving me to look after them 
 in a black fit of rage and incredulity. At the 
 first flush there was something so offensive in 
 the manner of their going that anger had the 
 upper hand. I thought of the lieutenant's words, 
 and I cursed him to hell with a sickening con- 
 sciousness that I should not forget them in a 
 hurry : " Was I playing the traitor to the Car- 
 dinal or to these women which ? " Man Dieu ! 
 if ever question but there ! some day I would 
 punish him. And the captain ? I could put 
 an end to his amusement, at any rate; and I 
 would. Doubtless among the country bucks of 
 Auch he lorded it as a chief provincial bully, 
 but I would cut his comb for him some fine 
 morning behind the barracks. 
 
 And then, as I grew cooler I began to wonder 
 why they were going, and what they were going 
 to do. They might be already on the track, or
 
 200 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 have the information they required under hand; 
 in that case I could understand the movement. 
 But if they were still searching vaguely, uncer- 
 tain whether their quarry were in the neighbour- 
 hood or not, and uncertain how long they might 
 have to stay, it seemed incredible that soldiers 
 should move from good quarters to bad without 
 motive. 
 
 I wandered down the garden thinking sullenly 
 of this, and pettishly cutting off the heads of the 
 flowers with my sheathed sword. After all, if 
 they found and arrested the man, what then ? 
 I should have to make my peace with the Cardi- 
 nal as I best might. He would have gained his 
 point, but not through me, and I should have to 
 look to myself. On the other 'hand, if I antici- 
 pated them and, as a fact, I felt that I could 
 lay my hand on the fugitive within a few hours 
 there would come a time when I must face 
 Mademoiselle. 
 
 A little while back that had not seemed so 
 difficult a thing. From the day of our first 
 meeting and in a higher degree since that 
 afternoon when she had lashed me with her
 
 THE QUESTION. 2OI 
 
 scorn my views of her, and my feelings towards 
 her, had been strangely made up of antagonism 
 and sympathy ; of repulsion, because in her past 
 and present she was so different from me; of 
 yearning, because she was a woman and friend- 
 less. Then I had duped her and bought her 
 confidence by returning the jewels, and in a 
 measure I had sated my vengeance ; and then, 
 as a consequence, sympathy had again begun to 
 get the better, until now I hardly knew my own 
 mind or what I intended. / did not know, in fact, 
 what I intended. I stood there in the garden 
 with that conviction suddenly new-born in my 
 mind ; and then, in a moment, I heard her step 
 and turned to find her behind me. 
 
 Her face was like April, smiles breaking 
 through her tears. As she stood with a tall 
 hedge of sunflowers behind her, I started to see 
 how beautiful she was. " I am here in search of 
 you, M. de Barthe," she said, colouring slightly, 
 perhaps because my eyes betrayed my thought, 
 "to thank you. You have not fought, and yet 
 you have conquered. My woman has just been 
 with me, and she tells me that they are going ! "
 
 202 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 "Going?" I said. "Yes, Mademoiselle, they 
 are leaving the house." 
 
 She did not understand my reservation. 
 " What magic have you used ? " she said, almost 
 gaily it was wonderful how hope had changed 
 her. " Moreover, I am curious to learn how 
 you managed to avoid fighting." 
 
 "After taking a blow?" I said bitterly. 
 
 " Monsieur, I did not mean that," she said re- 
 proachfully. But her face clouded. I saw that, 
 viewed in this light in which I suppose she had 
 not seen it the matter perplexed her still more. 
 
 I took a sudden resolution. " Have you ever 
 heard, Mademoiselle," I said gravely, plucking 
 off while I spoke the dead leaves from a plant 
 beside me, " of a gentleman by name De Berault ? 
 Known in Paris, so I have heard, by the sobri- 
 quet of the Black Death?" 
 
 " The duellist ? " she answered, in wonder. 
 "Yes, I have heard of him. He killed a young 
 gentleman of this province at Nancy two years 
 back. It was a sad story," she continued, shud- 
 dering, "of a dreadful man. God keep our 
 friends from such ! "
 
 THE QUESTION. 203 
 
 " Amen ! " I said quietly. But, in spite of 
 myself, I could not meet her eyes. 
 
 " Why ? " she answered, quickly taking alarm 
 at my silence. " What of him, M. de Barthe ? 
 Why have you mentioned him ? " 
 
 " Because he is here, Mademoiselle." 
 
 " Here ? " she exclaimed. 
 
 "Yes, Mademoiselle," I answered soberly. 
 "I am he."
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 CLON. 
 
 "You ! " she cried, in a voice which pierced me. 
 " You M. de Berault ? Impossible ! " But, 
 glancing askance, at her, I could not face her, 
 
 I saw that the blood had left her cheeks. 
 
 " Yes, Mademoiselle," I answered, in a low 
 voice. " De Barthe was my mother's name. 
 When I came here, a stranger, I took it that I 
 might not be known ; that I might again speak 
 to a good woman and not see her shrink. That 
 
 but why trouble you with all this?" I con- 
 tinued proudly, rebelling against her silence, her 
 turned shoulder, her averted face. " You asked 
 me, Mademoiselle, how I could take a blow and 
 let the striker go. I have answered. It is the 
 one privilege M. de Berault possesses." 
 
 "Then," she replied quickly, but almost in a 
 204
 
 CLON. 205 
 
 whisper, "if I were M. de Berault, I would use it, 
 and never fight again." 
 
 " In that event, Mademoiselle," I answered cyni- 
 cally, " I should lose my men friends as well as 
 my women friends. Like Monseigneur, the Cardi- 
 nal, I rule by fear." 
 
 She shuddered, either at the name or at the 
 idea my words called up, and, for a moment, we 
 stood awkwardly silent. The shadow of the 
 sundial fell between us ; the garden was still ; 
 here and there a leaf fluttered slowly down, 
 or a seed fell. With each instant of silence I 
 felt the gulf between us growing wider, I felt 
 myself growing harder ; I mocked at her past, 
 which was so unlike mine; I mocked at mine, 
 and called it fate. I was on the point of turn- 
 ing from her with a bow and a furnace in my 
 breast when she spoke. 
 
 " There is a late rose lingering there," she 
 said, a slight tremor in her voice. " I cannot 
 reach it. Will you pluck it for me, M. de 
 Berault?" 
 
 I obeyed her, my hand trembling, my face 
 on fire. She took the rose from me, and placed
 
 206 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 it in the bosom of her dress. And I saw that 
 her hand trembled too, and that her cheek was 
 dark with blushes. 
 
 She turned at once, and began to walk towards 
 the house. Presently she spoke. " Heaven for- 
 bid that I should misjudge you a second time ! " 
 she said, in a low voice. " And, after all, who 
 am I that I should judge you at all ? An hour 
 ago, I would have killed that man had I pos- 
 sessed the power." 
 
 "You repented, Mademoiselle," I said huskily. 
 I could scarcely speak. 
 
 " Do you never repent ? " 
 
 "Yes. But too late, Mademoiselle." 
 
 "Perhaps it is never too late," she answered 
 softly. 
 
 "Alas, when a man is dead " 
 
 " You may rob a man of more than life ! " she 
 replied with energy, stopping me by a gesture. 
 " If you have never robbed a man or a woman 
 of honour ! If you have never ruined boy or 
 girl, M. de Berault! If you have never pushed 
 another into the pit and gone by it yourself ! 
 If but for murder? Listen. You may be a
 
 CLOAT. 207 
 
 Romanist, but I am a Huguenot, and have read. 
 ' Thou shalt not kill ! ' it is written ; and the pen- 
 alty, ' By man shall thy blood be shed ! ' But, 
 ' If you cause one of these little ones to offend, it 
 were better for you that a mill-stone were hanged 
 about your neck, and that you were cast into the 
 depths of the sea.' " 
 
 " Mademoiselle, you are too merciful," I 
 muttered. 
 
 " I need mercy myself," she answered, sighing. 
 "And I have had few temptations. How do I 
 know what you have suffered ? " 
 
 " Or done ! " I said, almost rudely. 
 
 " Where a man has not lied, nor betrayed, nor 
 sold himself or others," she answered firmly, but 
 in a low tone, " I think I can forgive all else. 
 I can better put up with force," she added, 
 smiling sadly, "than with fraud." 
 
 Ah, Dieu ! I turned away my face that she 
 might not see how it paled, how I winced; that 
 she might not guess how her words, meant in 
 mercy, stabbed me to the heart. And yet, then, 
 for the first time, while viewing in all its depth 
 and width the gulf which separated us, I was
 
 208 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 not hardened; I was not cast back on myself. 
 Her gentleness, her pity, her humility, softened 
 me, while they convicted me. My God ! How 
 could I do that which I had come to do ? 
 How could I stab her in the tenderest part, how 
 could I inflict on her that rending pang, how 
 could I meet her eyes, and stand before her, 
 a Caliban, a Judas, the vilest, lowest, basest 
 thing she could conceive ? 
 
 I stood, a moment, speechless and disordered ; 
 stunned by her words, by my thoughts as I 
 have seen a man stand when he has lost his 
 all, his last, at the tables. Then I turned to 
 her; and for an instant I thought that my tale 
 was told already. I thought that she had pierced 
 my disguise, for her face was aghast, stricken 
 with sudden fear. Then I saw that she was not 
 looking at me, but beyond me, and I turned 
 quickly and saw a servant hurrying from the 
 house to us. It was Louis. His face, it was, 
 had frightened her. His eyes were staring, his 
 hair waved, his cheeks were flabby with dismay. 
 He breathed as if he had been running. 
 
 " What is it ? " Mademoiselle cried, while he
 
 CLOW. 209 
 
 was still some way off. "Speak, man. My 
 sister? Is she " 
 
 "Clon," he gasped. 
 
 The name changed her to stone. " Clon ? " 
 she muttered. "What of him?" 
 
 " In the village ! " Louis panted, his tongue 
 stuttering with terror. " They are flogging him ! 
 They are killing him, Mademoiselle! To make 
 him tell ! " 
 
 Mademoiselle grasped the sundial and leant 
 against it, her face colourless, and, for an in- 
 stant, I thought that she was fainting. " Tell ? " 
 I said mechanically. " But he cannot tell. He 
 is dumb, man." 
 
 "They will make him guide them," Louis 
 groaned, covering his ears with his shaking 
 hands, his face like paper. " And his cries ! 
 Oh, Monsieur, go ! " he continued, suddenly ap- 
 pealing to me, in a thrilling tone. " Save him. 
 All through the wood I heard them. It was 
 horrible! horrible!" 
 
 Mademoiselle uttered a low moan, and I turned 
 to support her, thinking each second to see her 
 fall. But with a sudden movement she straight-
 
 210 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 ened herself, and, slipping by me, with eyes 
 which seemed to see nothing, she started swiftly 
 down the walk towards the meadow gate. 
 
 I ran after her, but, taken by surprise as I 
 was, it was only by a great effort I reached the 
 gate before her, and, thrusting myself in the road, 
 barred the way. " Let me pass ! " she panted 
 fiercely, striving to thrust me on one side. " Out 
 of my way, Sir! I am going to the village." 
 
 "You are not going to the village," I said 
 sternly. "Go back to the house, Mademoiselle, 
 and at once." * 
 
 " My servant! " she wailed. " Let me go ! Oh, 
 let me go ! Do you think I can rest here while 
 they torture him ? He cannot speak, and they 
 -they " 
 
 "Go back, Mademoiselle," I said, cutting her 
 short, with decision. " You would only make 
 matters worse ! I will go myself, and what one 
 man can do against many, I will ! Louis, give 
 your mistress your arm and take her to the 
 house. Take her to Madame." 
 
 " But you will go ? " she cried. Before I could 
 stay her I swear I would have done so if I
 
 CLON. 211 
 
 could she raised my hand and carried it to 
 her trembling lips. "You will go! Go and stop 
 them ! Stop them," she continued, in a tone 
 which stirred my heart, " and Heaven reward 
 you, Monsieur ! " 
 
 I did not answer; nor did I once look back, 
 as I crossed the meadow ; but I did not look 
 forward either. Doubtless it was grass I trod; 
 doubtless the wood was before me with the sun 
 shining aslant on it, and behind me the house 
 with a flame here and there on the windows. But 
 I went in a dream, among shadows ; with a racing 
 pulse, in a glow from head to heel ; conscious of 
 nothing but the touch of Mademoiselle's warm 
 lips, seeing neither meadows nor house, nor even 
 the dark fringe of wood before me, but only 
 Mademoiselle's passionate face. For the moment 
 I was drunk : drunk with that to which I had 
 been so long a stranger, with that which a man may 
 scorn for years, to find it at last beyond his reach 
 drunk with the touch of a good woman's lips. 
 
 I passed the bridge in this state ; and my feet 
 were among the brushwood before the heat and 
 fervour in which I moved found on a sudden 
 
 P 2
 
 212 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 their direction. Something began to penetrate 
 to my veiled senses a hoarse inarticulate cry, 
 now deep, now shrilling horribly, which seemed 
 to fill the wood. It came at intervals of half a 
 minute or so, and made the flesh creep, it was 
 so full of dumb pain, of impotent wrestling, of 
 unspeakable agony. I am a man and have seen 
 things. I saw the Concini beheaded, and Chalais 
 ten years later they gave him thirty-four blows ; 
 and when I was a boy I escaped from the college 
 and viewed from a great distance Ravaillac torn 
 by horses that was in the year ten. But the 
 horrible cries I now heard filled me, perhaps be- 
 cause I was alone and fresh from the sight of 
 Mademoiselle, with loathing that was intense. The 
 very wood, though the sun wanted an hour of set- 
 ting, seemed to grow dark. I ran on through it, 
 cursing, until the hovels of the village at length 
 came in sight. Again the shriek rose, a pulsing 
 horror, and this time I could hear the lash fall 
 on the sodden flesh, I could see in fancy the 
 strong man, trembling, quivering, straining against 
 his bonds. And then, in a moment, I was in 
 the street, and, as the scream once more tore
 
 I sprang through the line of soldiers.
 
 CLON. 213 
 
 the air, I dashed round the corner by the inn, 
 and came upon them. 
 
 I did not look at him. I saw Captain Larolle 
 and the lieutenant, and a ring of troopers, and 
 one man, bare-armed, teasing out with his fingers 
 the thongs of a whip. The thongs dripped blood, 
 and the sight fired the mine. The rage I had 
 suppressed when the lieutenant bearded me ear- 
 lier in the afternoon, the passion with which 
 Mademoiselle's distress had filled my breast, at 
 last found vent. I sprang through the line of 
 soldiers, and striking the man with the whip a 
 buffet between the shoulders, which hurled him 
 breathless to the ground, I turned on the leaders. 
 " You devils ! " I cried. " Shame on you ! The 
 man is dumb ! I tell you, if I had ten men with 
 me, I would sweep you and your scum out of the 
 village with broomsticks. Lay on another lash," 
 I continued recklessly, " and I will see if you or 
 the Cardinal be the stronger." 
 
 The lieutenant glared at me, his grey moustache 
 bristling, his eyes almost starting from his head. 
 Some of the troopers laid their hands on their 
 swords, but no one moved, and only the captain
 
 214 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 spoke. " Mille diables!" he swore. "What is 
 all this about? Are you mad, Sir?" 
 
 " Mad or sane ! " I cried, still in a fury. " Lay 
 on another lash, and you shall repent it." 
 
 " I ? " 
 
 " Yes, you ! " 
 
 For an instant there was a pause of astonish- 
 ment. Then to my surprise the captain laughed 
 laughed loudly. "Very heroic!" he said. 
 "Quite magnificent, M. le Chevalier-errant. But 
 you see, unfortunately, you come too late ! " 
 
 " Too late ! " I said incredulously. 
 
 "Yes, too late," he replied, with a mocking 
 smile. And the lieutenant grinned too. "You 
 see the man has just confessed. We have only 
 been giving him an extra touch or two, to impress 
 his memory, and save us the trouble of tying him 
 up again." 
 
 "I don't believe it," I said bluntly but I felt 
 the check, and fell to earth. "The man cannot 
 speak." 
 
 " No, but he has managed to tell us that he 
 will guide us to the place we want," the captain 
 answered drily. "The whip, if it cannot find a
 
 CLON. 215 
 
 man a tongue, can find him wits. What is more, 
 I think, he will keep his word," he continued, with 
 a hideous smile. " For I warn him that if he does 
 not, all your heroics shall not save him ! He is a 
 rebel dog, and known to us of old, and I will flay 
 his back to the bones ay, until we can see his 
 heart beating through his ribs but I will have 
 what I want in your teeth, too, you d d med- 
 dler." 
 
 " Steady, steady ! " I said, somewhat sobered. 
 I saw that he was telling me the truth. " He is 
 going to take you to M. de Cocheforet's hiding- 
 place, is he ? " 
 
 " Yes, he is ! " the captain retorted offensively. 
 " Have you any objection to make to that, Master 
 Spy?" 
 
 " None," I replied. " But I shall go with you. 
 And if you live three months, I shall kill you for 
 that name behind the barracks at Auch, M. le 
 Capitaine." 
 
 He changed colour, but he answered me boldly 
 enough. " I don't know that you will go with us. 
 That is as we please," he continued, with a snarl. 
 
 " I have the Cardinal's orders," I said sternly.
 
 2l6 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 " The Cardinal ? " he exclaimed, stung to fury 
 by this repetition of the name. "The Cardinal 
 be " 
 
 But the lieutenant laid his hands on his lips, 
 and stopped him. "Hush!" he said. Then more 
 quietly, "Your pardon, M. le Capitaine. Shall I 
 give orders to the men to fall in ? " 
 
 The captain nodded sullenly. 
 
 " Take him down ! " the lieutenant ordered, in 
 his harsh, monotonous voice. " Throw his blouse 
 over him, and tie his hands. And do you two, 
 Paul and Lebrun, guard him. Michel, bring the 
 whip, or he may forget how it tastes. Sergeant, 
 choose four good men and dismiss the rest to their 
 quarters." 
 
 "Shall we need the horses?" the sergeant 
 asked. 
 
 " I don't know," the captain answered peev- 
 ishly. " What does the rogue say ? " 
 
 The lieutenant stepped up to him. " Listen ! " 
 he said grimly. " Nod if you mean yes, and shake 
 your head if you mean no. And have a care you 
 answer truly. Is it more than a mile to this 
 place ? The place you know of? "
 
 CLON. 217 
 
 They had loosened the poor wretch's fasten- 
 ings, and covered his back. He stood leaning 
 against the wall, his mouth still panting, the 
 sweat running down his hollow cheeks ; his 
 sunken eyes were closed ; a quiver now and 
 again ran through his frame. The lieutenant 
 repeated his question, and, getting no answer, 
 looked round for orders. The captain met the 
 look, and crying savagely, " Answer, will you, you 
 mute ! " struck the half -swooning miserable across 
 the back with his switch. The effect was magi- 
 cal. Covered, as his shoulders were, the man 
 sprang erect with a shriek of pain, raising his 
 chin, and hollowing his back ; and in that attitude 
 stood an instant with starting eyes, gasping for 
 breath. Then he sank back against the wall, 
 moving his mouth spasmodically. His face was 
 the colour of lead. 
 
 " Diable ! I think we have gone too far with 
 him ! " the captain muttered. 
 
 " Bring some wine ! " the lieutenant replied. 
 " Quick with it ! " 
 
 I looked on, burning with indignation, and 
 wondering besides what would come of this. If
 
 2l8 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 the man took them to the place, and they suc- 
 ceeded in seizing Cocheforet, there was an end 
 of the matter as far as I was concerned. It was 
 off my shoulders, and I might leave the village 
 when I pleased ; nor was it likely since he 
 would have his man, though not through me 
 that the Cardinal would refuse me an amnesty. 
 On the whole, I thought that I would prefer that 
 things should take that course ; and assuming the 
 issue, I began to wonder whether in that event it 
 would be necessary that Madame should know the 
 truth. I had a kind of a vision of a reformed 
 Berault, dead to play and purging himself at a 
 distance from Zaton's, winning, perhaps, a name 
 in the Italian war, and finally but, pshaw! I 
 was a fool. 
 
 However, be that as it might, it was essential 
 that I should see the arrest made; and I waited 
 patiently while they revived the tortured man, 
 and made their dispositions. These took some 
 time ; so that the sun was down, and it was grow- 
 ing dusk, when we marched out, Clon going first, 
 supported by his two guards, the captain and I 
 following, abreast, and eyeing one another
 
 CLON. 219 
 
 piciously, the lieutenant, with the sergeant and 
 five troopers, bringing up the rear. Clon moved 
 slowly, moaning from time to time, and but for 
 the aid given him by the two men with him, 
 must have sunk down again and again. 
 
 He went out between two houses close to the 
 inn, and struck a narrow track, scarcely discern- 
 ible, which ran behind other houses, and then 
 plunged into the thickest part of the wood. A 
 single person, traversing the covert, might have 
 made such a track ; or pigs, or children. But it 
 was the first idea that occurred to us, and it put 
 us all on the alert. The captain carried a cocked 
 pistol, I held my sword drawn, and kept a watch- 
 ful eye on him ; and the deeper the dusk fell 
 in the wood, the more cautiously we went, until 
 at last we came out with a sort of jump into a 
 wider and lighter path. 
 
 I looked up and down it, and saw before me 
 a wooden bridge, and an open meadow, lying 
 cold and grey in the twilight; and I stood in 
 astonishment. It was the old path to the Cha- 
 teau ! I shivered at the thought that he was 
 going to take us there, to the house to Made- 
 moiselle !
 
 220 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 The captain also recognised the place, and 
 swore aloud. But the dumb man went on un- 
 heeding, until he reached the wooden bridge. 
 There he paused as if in doubt, and looked 
 towards the dark outline of the building, which 
 was just visible, one faint light twinkling sadly in 
 the west wing. As the captain and I pressed up 
 behind him, he raised his hands and seemed to 
 wring them towards the house. 
 
 " Have a care ! " the captain growled. " Play 
 me no tricks, or " But he did not finish the 
 sentence ; for Clon turned back from the bridge, 
 and, entering the wood on the left hand, began 
 to ascend the bank of the stream. We had not 
 gone a hundred yards before the ground grew 
 rough, and the undergrowth thick; and yet 
 through all ran a kind of path which enabled 
 us to advance, dark as it was growing. Very 
 soon the bank on which we moved began to 
 rise above the water, and grew steep and rugged. 
 We turned a shoulder, where the stream swept 
 round a curve, and saw we were in the mouth 
 of a small ravine, dark and steep-walled. The 
 water brawled along the bottom, over boulders
 
 CLON. 221 
 
 and through chasms. In front, the slope on 
 which we stood shaped itself into a low cliff; 
 but half-way between its summit and the water, 
 a ledge, or narrow terrace, running along the 
 face, was dimly visible. 
 
 " Ten to one, a cave ! " the captain muttered. 
 "It is a likely place." 
 
 " And an ugly one ! " I sneered. " Which one 
 to ten might safely hold for hours ! " 
 
 " If the ten had no pistols yes ! " he 
 answered viciously. " But you see we have. 
 Is he going that way?" 
 
 He was. " Lieutenant," Larolle said, turning 
 and speaking in a low voice, though the chafing 
 of the stream below us covered ordinary sounds, 
 " shall we light the lanthorns, or press on while 
 there is still a glimmering of day ? " 
 
 " On, I should say, M. le Capitaine," the lieu- 
 tenant answered. " Prick him in the back if he 
 falters. I will warrant he has a tender place or 
 two ! " the brute added, with a chuckle. 
 
 The captain gave the word, and we moved 
 forward; it being very evident now that the 
 cliff-path was our destination. It was possible
 
 222 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 for the eye to follow the track all the way to it 
 through rough stones and brushwood ; and though 
 Clon climbed feebly and with many groans, two 
 minutes saw us step on to it. It did not turn 
 out to be the perilous place it looked at a dis- 
 tance. The ledge, grassy and terrace-like, sloped 
 slightly downwards and outwards, and in parts 
 was slippery ; but it was as wide as a highway, 
 and the fall to the water did not exceed thirty 
 feet. Even in such a dim light as now displayed 
 it to us, and by increasing the depth and unseen 
 dangers of the gorge, gave a kind of impressive- 
 ness to our movements, a nervous woman need 
 not have feared to breast it. I wondered how 
 often Mademoiselle had passed along it with her 
 milk-pitcher. 
 
 " I think we have him now ! " Captain Larolle 
 muttered, twisting his mustachios, and looking 
 round to make his last dispositions. " Paul and 
 Lebrun, see that your man makes no noise. Ser- 
 geant, come forward with your carbine, but do 
 not fire without orders. Now, silence, all, and 
 close up, Lieutenant. Forward ! " 
 
 We advanced about a hundred paces, keeping
 
 CLON. 223 
 
 the cliff on our left, then turned a shoulder, and 
 saw, a few paces in front of us, a black blotch 
 standing out from the grey duskiness of the cliff- 
 side. The prisoner stopped, and raising his 
 bound hands pointed to it. 
 
 " There ? " the captain whispered, pressing for- 
 ward. "Is that the place?" 
 
 Clon nodded. The captain's voice shook with 
 excitement. " You two remain here with him ! " 
 he muttered, in a low tone. " Sergeant, come 
 forward with me. Now, are you ready? For- 
 ward ! " 
 
 He and the sergeant passed quickly, one on 
 either side of Clon and his guards. The path 
 was narrow here, and the captain passed outside. 
 The eyes of all but one were on the black 
 blotch, the hollow in the cliff-side, and no one 
 saw exactly what happened. But somehow, as 
 the captain passed abreast of him, the prisoner 
 thrust back his guards, and springing sideways, 
 flung his unbound arms round Larolle's body, 
 and in an instant swept him, shouting, to the 
 verge of the precipice. 
 
 It was done in a moment. By the time the
 
 224 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 lieutenant's startled wits and eyes were back, 
 the two were already tottering on the edge, look- 
 ing in the gloom like one dark form. The ser- 
 geant, who was the first to find his head, levelled 
 his carbine; but as the wrestlers twirled and 
 twisted, the captain shrieking out oaths and 
 threats, the mute silent as death, it was impos- 
 sible to see which was which ; and the sergeant 
 lowered his gun again, while the men held back 
 nervously. The ledge sloped steeply there ; the 
 edge was vague ; already the two seemed to be 
 wrestling in mid-air, and the mute was a man 
 beyond hope or fear. 
 
 That moment of hesitation was fatal. Clon's 
 long arms were round the other's arms, crushing 
 them into his ribs; Clon's skull-like face grinned 
 hate into the other's eyes; his long limbs curled 
 round him like the folds of a snake. Suddenly 
 Larolle's strength gave way. " Damn you all ! 
 Why don't you Mercy ! mercy ! " came in a 
 last scream from his lips; and then, as the lieu- 
 tenant, taken aback before, sprang forward to 
 his aid, the two toppled over the edge, and in a 
 second hurtled out of sight.
 
 CLON. 22$ 
 
 " Mon Dieu ! " the lieutenant cried, in horror. 
 The answer was a dull splash in the depths 
 below. 
 
 He flung up his arms. " Water ! " he said. 
 " Quick, men, get down ! We may save him yet ! 
 They have fallen into water ! " 
 
 But there was no path, and night was come, 
 and the men's nerves were shaken. The Ian- 
 thorns had to be lit, and the way to be retraced ; 
 and by the time we reached the dark pool which 
 lay below, the last bubbles were gone from the 
 surface, the last ripples had beaten themselves 
 out against the banks. True, the pool still rocked 
 sullenly, and the yellow light showed a man's 
 hat floating, and near it a glove three parts 
 submerged. But that was all. The mute's dying 
 grip had known no loosening, nor his hate any 
 fear. Later, I heard that when they dragged 
 the two out next day, his fingers were in the 
 other's eye-sockets, his teeth in his throat. If 
 ever man found death sweet, it was he. 
 
 As we turned slowly from the black water, 
 some shuddering, some crossing themselves, the 
 lieutenant looked vengefully at me. " Curse 
 
 Q
 
 226 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 you ! " he said, in sudden fury. " I believe you 
 are glad ! " 
 
 " He deserved his fate," I answered coldly. 
 " Why should I pretend to be sorry ? It was 
 now or in three months. And for the other poor 
 devil's sake I am glad." 
 
 He glared at me a moment, in speechless anger. 
 At last, " I should like to have you tied up ! " 
 he said, between his teeth. 
 
 " I should have thought that you had had 
 enough of tying up for one day ! " I retorted. 
 " But there ; it comes of making officers out of 
 the canaille. Dogs love blood. The teamster 
 must still lash something, if he can no longer 
 lash his horses." 
 
 We were back, a sombre little procession, at 
 the wooden bridge, when I said this. He stopped 
 'suddenly. " Very well," he replied, nodding 
 viciously. " That decides me. Sergeant, light 
 me this way with a lanthorn. The rest of you 
 to the village. Now, Master Spy," he continued, 
 glancing at me with gloomy spite, " your road is 
 my road. I think I know how to cook your goose." 
 
 I shrugged my shoulders in disdain, and to-
 
 CLON. 227 
 
 gather, the sergeant leading the way with the 
 light, we crossed the meadow, and passed through 
 the gate where Mademoiselle had kissed my 
 hand, and up the ghostly walk between the rose- 
 bushes. I wondered uneasily what the lieu- 
 tenant would be at, and what he intended; but 
 the lanthorn light which now fell on the ground 
 at our feet, and now showed one of us to the 
 other, high-lit in a frame of blackness, discov- 
 ered nothing in his grizzled face but settled hos- 
 tility. He wheeled at the end of the walk to 
 go to the main door; but as he did so, I saw 
 the flutter of a white skirt by the stone seat 
 against the house, and I stepped that way. 
 " Mademoiselle," I said softly, " is it you ? " 
 
 " Clon ? " she muttered, her voice quivering. 
 "What of him?" 
 
 " He is past pain," I answered gently. " He 
 is dead, but in his own way. Take comfort, 
 Mademoiselle." And then before I could say 
 more, the lieutenant with his sergeant and light 
 were at my elbow. He saluted Mademoiselle 
 roughly. She looked at him with shuddering 
 
 abhorrence. 
 
 Q 2
 
 228 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 " Are you come to flog me, Sir ? " she said 
 icily. " Is it not enough that you have murdered 
 my servant ? " 
 
 " On the contrary, it was he killed my captain," 
 the lieutenant answered, in another tone than 
 I had expected. " If your servant is dead, so 
 is my comrade." 
 
 She looked with startled eyes, not at him, but 
 at me. "What! Captain Larolle ?" she muttered. 
 
 I nodded. 
 
 "How?" she asked. 
 
 " Clon flung the captain and himself into the 
 river-pool," I explained, in a low voice. " The 
 pool above the bridge." 
 
 She uttered an exclamation of awe, and stood 
 silent. But her lips moved ; I think she was 
 praying for Clon, though she was a Huguenot. 
 Meanwhile I had a fright. The lanthorn, swing- 
 ing in the sergeant's hand, and now throwing its 
 smoky light on the stone seat, now on the rough 
 wall above it, showed me something else. On 
 the seat, doubtless where Mademoiselle's hand 
 had lain, as she sat in the dark, listening and 
 watching, stood a pitcher of food. Beside her, in
 
 CLON. 229 
 
 that place, it was damning evidence. I trembled 
 lest the lieutenant's eye should fall upon it, 
 lest the sergeant should see it; I thought what 
 I could do to hide it; and then in a moment 
 I forgot all about it. The lieutenant was speak- 
 ing, and his voice was like doom. My throat 
 grew dry as I listened. My tongue stuck to my 
 mouth; I tried to look at Mademoiselle, but I 
 could not. 
 
 " It is true, the captain is gone," he said stiffly. 
 " But others are alive, and about one of them, a 
 word with you, by your leave, Mademoiselle. 
 I have listened to a good deal of talk from this 
 fine gentleman friend of yours. He has spent 
 the last twenty-four hours saying, ' You shall ! ' 
 and ' You shall not ! ' He came from you, and 
 took a very high tone because we laid a little 
 whip-lash about that dumb devil of yours. He 
 called us brutes and beasts, and but for him 
 I am not sure that my friend would not be 
 alive. But when he said a few minutes ago 
 that he was glad, glad of it, damn him! then 
 I fixed it in my mind that I would be even with 
 him. And I am going to be ! "
 
 230 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 "What do you mean?" Mademoiselle asked, 
 wearily interrupting him. " If you think you 
 can prejudice me against that gentleman " 
 
 " That is precisely what I do think ! And I 
 am going to do it. And a little more than 
 that!" 
 
 " You will be only wasting your breath ! " she 
 answered proudly. 
 
 " Wait ! wait, Mademoiselle, until you have 
 heard ! " he said. " If ever a black-hearted 
 scoundrel, a dastardly, sneaking spy, trod the 
 earth, it is this fellow! This friend of yours^ 
 And I am going to expose him. Your own eyes 
 and your own ears shall persuade you. Why, 
 I would not eat, I would not drink, I would not 
 sit down with him ! I would not ! I would 
 rather be beholden to the meanest trooper in 
 my squadron than to him ! Ay, I would, so 
 help me Heaven ! " And the lieutenant, turning 
 squarely on his heels, spat on the ground.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE ARREST. 
 
 So it had come ! And come in such a fashion 
 that I saw no way of escape. The sergeant was 
 between us, and I could not strike him. And 
 I found no words. A score of times I had 
 thought with shrinking how I should reveal my 
 secret to Mademoiselle, what I should say, and 
 how she would take it. But in my mind it had 
 always been a voluntary act, this disclosure. It 
 had been always I who had unmasked myself, 
 and she who listened alone ; and in this volun- 
 tariness and this privacy there had been some- 
 thing which seemed to take from the shame 
 of anticipation. But here here was no volun- 
 tary act on my part, no privacy, nothing but 
 shame. I stood mute, convicted, speechless 
 like the thing I was. 
 
 Yet if anything could have braced me, it was 
 231
 
 232 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 Mademoiselle's voice, when she answered him. 
 " Go on, Monsieur," she said, with the perfect 
 calmness of scorn. "You will have done the 
 sooner." 
 
 " You do not believe me ? " he replied hotly. 
 "Then, I say, look at him! Look at him! If 
 ever shame " 
 
 " Monsieur ! " she said abruptly she did not 
 look at me. " I am ashamed myself ! " 
 
 " Why, his very name is not his own ! " the 
 lieutenant rejoined jerkily. " He is no Barthe at 
 all. He is Berault the gambler, the duellist, the 
 bully " 
 
 Again she interrupted him. " I know it," she 
 said coldly. " I know it all. And if you have 
 nothing more to tell me, go, Monsieur. Go ! " 
 she continued, in a tone of infinite scorn. 
 " Enough that you have earned my contempt as 
 well as my abhorrence ! " 
 
 He looked for a moment taken aback. Then, 
 " Ay, but I have more ! " he cried, his voice 
 stubbornly triumphant. " I forgot that you would 
 think little of that ! I forgot that a swordsman 
 has always the ladies' hearts. But I have more.
 
 THE ARREST. 233 
 
 Do you know, too, that he is in the Cardinal's 
 pay ? Do you know that he is here on the 
 same errand which brings us here, to arrest 
 M. de Cocheforet ? Do you know that while we 
 go about the business openly and in soldier 
 fashion, it is his part to worm himself into your 
 confidence, to sneak into Madame's intimacy, to 
 listen at your door, to follow your footsteps, to 
 hang on your lips, to track you track you 
 until you betray yourselves and the man ? Do 
 you know this, and that all his sympathy is a 
 lie, Mademoiselle ? His help, so much bait to 
 catch the secret ? His aim, blood-money blood- 
 money ? Why, morbleu!" the lieutenant con- 
 tinued, pointing his finger at me, and so carried 
 away by passion, so lifted out of himself by 
 wrath and indignation, that in spite of myself 
 I shrank before him, " you talk, lady, of con- 
 tempt and abhorrence in the same breath with 
 me ! But what have you for him ? What have 
 you for him, the spy, the informer, the hired 
 traitor? And if you doubt, if you want evi- 
 dence, look at him. Only look at him, I say ! " 
 And he might well say it ! For I stood silent
 
 234 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 still ; cowering and despairing, white with rage 
 and hate. But Mademoiselle did not look. She 
 gazed straight at the lieutenant. " Have you 
 done ? " she said. 
 
 " Done ? " he stammered. Her words, her air, 
 brought him to earth again. " Done ? Yes, if 
 you believe me." 
 
 " I do not," she answered proudly. " If that be 
 all, be satisfied, Monsieur. I do not believe you." 
 
 "Then tell me," he retorted, after a moment of 
 stunned surprise, "why, if he was not on our 
 side, do you think we let him remain here ? 
 Why did we suffer him to stay in a suspected 
 house bullying us, and taking your part from 
 hour to hour ? " 
 
 " He has a sword, Monsieur," she answered, 
 with fine contempt. 
 
 " Mille diables / " he cried, snapping his fingers 
 in a rage. " That for his sword ! No. It was 
 because he held the Cardinal's commission ; be- 
 cause he had equal authority with us; because 
 we had no choice." 
 
 "And that being so, Monsieur, why are you 
 now betraying him ? " she asked keenly.
 
 THE ARREST. 235 
 
 He swore at that, feeling the stroke go home. 
 "You must be mad," he said, glaring at her. 
 " Mad, if you cannot see that the man is what 
 I tell you he is. Look at him ! Listen to him ! 
 Has he a word to say for himself ? " 
 
 Still she did not look. "It is late," she 
 replied, coldly and irrelevantly. " And I am 
 not very well. If you have quite done, perhaps 
 you will leave me, Monsieur." 
 
 " Mon Dieu!" he exclaimed, shrugging his 
 shoulders ; " you are mad ! I have told you the 
 truth, and you will not believe it. Well, on 
 your head be it then, Mademoiselle. I have no 
 more to say. But you will see." 
 
 He looked at her for a moment as if he 
 thought that she might still give way ; then he 
 saluted her roughly, gave the word to the ser- 
 geant, turned, and went down the path. The 
 sergeant went after him, the lanthorn swaying 
 in his hand. We two were left alone in the 
 gloom. The frogs were croaking in the pool; 
 the house, the garden, the wood, all lay quiet 
 under the darkness, as on the night when I 
 first came to the Chateau.
 
 236 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 And would to Heaven I had never come ! 
 That was the cry in my heart. Would to Heaven 
 I had never seen this woman, whose nobility 
 an$ faith and singleness were a continual 
 shame to me ; a reproach, branding me every 
 hour I stood in her presence, with all vile and 
 hateful names. The man just gone, coarse, low- 
 bred, brutal soldier as he was, man-flogger, and 
 drilling-block, had yet found heart to feel my 
 baseness, and words in which to denounce it. 
 What, then, would she say when the truth some 
 day came home to her? What shape should I 
 take in her eyes then ? How should I be remem- 
 bered through all the years then ? 
 
 Then ? But now ? What was she thinking, 
 now, as she stood, silent and absorbed, by the 
 stone seat, a shadowy figure with face turned 
 from me ? Was she recalling the man's words, 
 fitting them to the facts and the past, adding 
 this and that circumstance ? Was she, though 
 she had rebuffed him in the body, collating, now 
 he was gone, all he had said, and out of these 
 scraps piecing together the damning truth ? 
 The thought tortured me. I could brook un-
 
 THE ARREST. 237 
 
 certainty no longer. I went nearer to her and 
 touched her sleeve. " Mademoiselle," I said, in 
 a voice which sounded hoarse and forced even 
 in my own ears, " do you believe this of me ? " 
 
 She started violently and turned. " Pardon, 
 Monsieur," she answered. " I had forgotten 
 that you were here. Do I believe what?" 
 
 "What that man said of me," I muttered. 
 
 " That ! " she exclaimed ; and she stood a 
 moment gazing at me in a strange fashion. 
 " Do I believe what he said, Monsieur ! But 
 come, come," she continued, "and I will show 
 you if I believe it. But not here." 
 
 She led the way on the instant into the house, 
 going in through the parlour door, which stood 
 half open. The room inside was pitch dark, 
 but she took me fearlessly by the hand, and led 
 me quickly through it, and along the passage, 
 until we came to the cheerful lighted hall, where 
 a great fire burned on the hearth. All traces 
 of the soldiers' occupation had been swept away. 
 But the room was empty. 
 
 She led me to the fire, and there, in the full 
 light, no longer a shadowy creature, but red-
 
 238 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 lipped, brilliant, throbbing with life, she stood 
 opposite me, her eyes shining, her colour high, 
 her breast heaving. " Do I believe it ? " she said. 
 " I will tell you. M. de Cocheforet's hiding-place 
 is in the hut behind the fern-stack, two furlongs 
 beyond the village, on the road to Auch. You 
 know now what no one else knows, he and I and 
 Madame excepted. You hold in your hands his 
 life and my honour; and you know also, M. de 
 Berault, whether I believed that tale." 
 
 " My God ! " I cried. And I stood looking 
 at her, until something of the horror in my eyes 
 crept into hers, and she shuddered and stepped 
 back. 
 
 " What is it ? What is it ? " she whispered, 
 clasping her hands. And with all the colour 
 gone from her cheeks she peered trembling into 
 the corners and towards the door. "There is 
 no one here. Is there any one listening?" 
 
 I forced myself to speak, though I shook all 
 over, like a man in an ague. " No, Mademoiselle, 
 there is no one here," I muttered. And then I 
 let my head fall on my breast, and I stood before 
 her, the statue of despair. Had she felt a
 
 "My God!" I cried.
 
 THE ARREST. 239 
 
 grain of suspicion, a grain of doubt, my bearing 
 must have opened her eyes. But her mind was 
 cast in so noble a mould, that having once 
 thought ill of me and been converted, she could 
 feel no doubt again. It was her nature to trust 
 all in all. So, a little recovered from her fright, 
 she stood looking at me in great wonder; and 
 at last she had a thought. 
 
 "You are not well?" she said suddenly. "It 
 is your old wound, Monsieur." 
 
 "Yes, Mademoiselle," I muttered faintly. "It 
 is my old wound." 
 
 " I will call Clon ! " she cried impetuously. 
 And then, with a sob, "Ah! poor Clon! He 
 is gone. But there is Louis. I will call him, 
 and he will get you something." 
 
 She was gone from the room before I could 
 stop her; and I was left leaning against the 
 table, possessor at last of the great secret which 
 I had come so far to win. Possessor of that 
 secret, and able in a moment to open the door, 
 and go out into the night, and make use of it 
 and yet the most unhappy of men. The sweat 
 stood on my brow, my eyes wandered round the
 
 240 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 room ; I even turned towards the door, with some 
 mad thought of flight flight from her, from 
 the house, from everything. And God knows 
 if I might not have chosen that course; for I still 
 stood doubting, when on the door, that door, 
 there came a sudden hurried knocking which 
 jarred every nerve in my body. I started. I 
 stood in the middle of the floor, gazing at the 
 door, as at a ghost. Then glad of action, glad 
 of anything that might relieve the tension of 
 my feelings, I strode to it, and pulled it sharply 
 open. 
 
 On the threshold, his flushed face lit up by 
 the light behind me, stood one of the knaves I 
 had brought with me to Auch. He had been 
 running, and panted heavily, but he had kept his 
 wits. He grasped my sleeve instantly. " Ah ! 
 Monsieur, the very man ! " he cried, tugging at 
 me. " Quick ! come this instant, and you may yet 
 be first. They have the secret. They have 
 found Monsieur." 
 
 " Found whom ? " I echoed. " M. de Coche- 
 foret> " 
 
 " No ; but the place where he lies. It was
 
 THE ARREST. 241 
 
 found by accident. The lieutenant was gather- 
 ing his men to go to it when I came away. 
 If we are quick, we may be there first." 
 
 " But the place ? " I said. 
 
 " I could not hear where it was," he answered 
 bluntly. " We can hang on their skirts, and at 
 the last moment strike in." 
 
 The pair of pistols I had taken from the 
 shock-headed man lay on a chest by the door. 
 I snatched them up, and my hat, and joined him 
 without another word ; and in a moment we were 
 running down the garden. I looked back once 
 before we passed the gate, and I saw the light 
 streaming out through the door which I had 
 left open ; and I fancied that for an instant a 
 figure darkened the gap. But the fancy only 
 strengthened the one single iron purpose which 
 had taken possession of me and all my thoughts. 
 I must be first. I must anticipate the lieu- 
 tenant, and make the arrest myself. I ran on 
 only the faster. 
 
 We seemed to be across the meadow and in 
 the wood in a moment. There, instead of keep- 
 ing along the common path, I boldly singled out
 
 242 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 my senses seemed preternaturally keen the 
 smaller track by which Clon had brought us, and 
 ran unfaltering along it, avoiding logs and pitfalls 
 as by instinct, and following all its turns and 
 twists, until it brought us to the back of the inn, 
 and we could hear the murmur of subdued voices 
 in the village street, the sharp low words of com- 
 mand, and even the clink of weapons ; and could 
 see, above and between the houses, the dull glare 
 of lanthorns and torches. 
 
 I grasped my man's arm and crouched down, 
 listening. " Where is your mate ? " I said, in his 
 ear. 
 
 "With them," he muttered. 
 
 "Then come," I whispered, rising. "I have 
 seen enough. Let us go." 
 
 But he caught me by the arm and detained 
 me. " You don't know the way ! " he hissed. 
 " Steady, steady, Monsieur. You go too fast. 
 They are just moving. Let us join them, and 
 strike in when the time comes. We must let 
 them guide us." 
 
 " Fool ! " I said, shaking off his hand. " I 
 tell you, I know where he is ! I know where
 
 THE ARREST. 243 
 
 they are going. Come ; lose not a moment, and 
 we will pluck the fruit while they are on the 
 road to it." 
 
 His only answer was an exclamation of sur- 
 prise ; at that moment the lights began to move. 
 The lieutenant was starting. The moon was not 
 yet up ; the sky was grey and cloudy ; to advance 
 where we were was to step into a wall of black- 
 ness. But we had lost too much time already, 
 and I did not hesitate. Bidding my companion 
 follow me, and use his legs, I sprang through 
 a low fence which rose before us, and stumbling 
 blindly over some broken ground in the rear of 
 the houses, came, with a fall or two, to a little 
 watercourse with steep sides. Through this I 
 plunged recklessly, and up the farther side, and, 
 breathless and panting, gained the road just be- 
 yond the village, and fifty yards in advance of 
 the lieutenant's troop. 
 
 They had only two lanthorns burning now, and 
 we were beyond the circle of light these cast ; 
 while the steady tramp of so many footsteps 
 covered the noise we made. We were unnoticed. 
 In a twinkling we turned our backs, and as fast
 
 244 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 as we could ran down the road. Fortunately, 
 they were thinking more of secrecy than speed, 
 and in a minute we had doubled the distance 
 between us ; in two minutes their lights were 
 mere sparks shining in the gloom behind us. We 
 lost, at last, even the tramp of their feet. Then 
 I began to look out and go more slowly ; peering 
 into the shadows on either side for the fern-stack. 
 
 On one hand the hill rose steeply; on the 
 other it fell away to the stream. On neither side 
 was close wood, or my difficulties had been im- 
 mensely increased, but scattered oak-trees stood 
 here and there among gorse and bracken. This 
 helped me, and in a moment, on the upper side, I 
 came upon the dense substance of the stack loom- 
 ing black against the lighter hill. 
 
 My heart beat fast, but it was no time for 
 thought. Bidding the man in a whisper to follow 
 me and be ready to back me up, I climbed the 
 bank softly, and with a pistol in my hand, felt 
 my way to the rear of the stack ; thinking to find 
 a hut there, set against the fern, and M. de Coche- 
 foret in it. But I found no hut. There was 
 none ; and all was so dark that it came upon me
 
 THE ARREST. 245 
 
 suddenly as I stood between the hill and the stack 
 that I had undertaken a very difficult thing. The 
 hut behind the fern-stack ? But how far behind ? 
 How ' far from it ? The dark slope stretched 
 
 above us, infinite, immeasurable, shrouded in night. 
 \ 
 
 To begin to climb it in search of a tiny hut, 
 probably well-hidden and hard to find in day- 
 light, seemed a task as impossible as to meet 
 with the needle in the hay ! And now, while I 
 stood, chilled and doubting, the steps of the 
 troop in the road began to grow audible, began 
 to come nearer. 
 
 " Well, M. le Capitaine ? " the man beside me 
 muttered in wonder why I stood. " Which 
 way ? Or they will be before us yet." 
 
 I tried to think, to reason it out; to consider 
 where the hut would be ; while the wind sighed 
 through the oaks, and here and there I could 
 hear an acorn fall. But the thing pressed too 
 close on me : my thoughts would not be hur- 
 ried, and at last I said at a 'venture, " Up the 
 hill ! Straight from the stack." 
 
 He did not demur, and we plunged at the 
 ascent, knee deep in bracken and furze, sweat-
 
 246 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 ing at every pore with our exertions, and hearing 
 the troop come every moment nearer on the 
 road below. Doubtless they knew exactly whither 
 to go ! Forced to stop and take breath when 
 we had scrambled up fifty yards or so, I saw 
 their lanthorns shining like moving glow-worms ; 
 and could even hear the clink of steel. For all 
 I could tell, the hut might be down there, and 
 we two be moving from it! But it was too late 
 to go back now; they were close to the fern- 
 stack : and in despair I turned to the hill again. 
 A dozen steps, and I stumbled. I rose and 
 plunged on again ; again I stumbled. Then I 
 found that I was no longer ascending. I was 
 treading level earth. And was it water I saw 
 before me, below me, a little in front of my feet, 
 or some mirage of the sky ? 
 
 Neither ; and I gripped my fellow's arm, as he 
 came abreast of me, and stopped him sharply. 
 Below us, in the centre of a steep hollow, a pit 
 in the hill-side, a light shone out through some 
 aperture and quivered on the mist, like the pale 
 lamp of a moorland hobgoblin. It made itself 
 visible, displaying nothing else ; a wisp of light 
 in the bottom of a black bowl.
 
 THE ARREST. 247 
 
 Yet my spirits rose with a great bound at sight 
 of it, for I knew that I had stumbled on the place 
 I sought. In the common run of things I should 
 have weighed my next step carefully, and gone 
 about it slowly. But here was no place for 
 thought, nor room for delay, and I slid down 
 the side of the hollow, and the moment my feet 
 touched the bottom, sprang to the door of the 
 little hut whence the light issued. A stone 
 turned under my foot in my rush, and I fell on my 
 knees on the threshold ; but the fall only brought 
 my face to a level with the startled eyes of the 
 man who lay inside on a bed of fern. He had 
 been reading. At the sound I made he dropped 
 his book, and stretched out his hand for a 
 weapon. But the muzzle of my pistol covered 
 him before he could reach his; he was not in a 
 posture from which he could spring, and at a 
 sharp word from me he dropped his hand. The 
 tigerish glare which had flickered for an instant 
 in his eyes, gave place to a languid smile; and 
 he shrugged his shoulders. "Eh, bien?" he 
 said, with marvellous composure. "Taken at 
 last! Well, I was tired of it."
 
 248 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 " You are my prisoner, M. de Cocheforet," I 
 answered. 
 
 " It seems so," he said. 
 
 " Move a hand, and I kill ,you," I answered. 
 " But you have still a choice." 
 
 " Truly ? " he said, raising his eyebrows. 
 
 "Yes. My orders are to take you to Paris 
 alive or dead. Give me your parole that you 
 will make no attempt to escape, and you shall 
 go thither at your ease and as a gentleman. 
 Refuse, and I shall disarm and bind you, and 
 you will go as a prisoner." 
 
 "What force have you?" he asked curtly. 
 He had not moved. He still lay on his elbow, 
 his cloak covering him, the little Marot in which 
 he had been reading close to his hand. But his 
 quick, black eyes, which looked the keener for 
 the pallor and thinness of his face, roved cease- 
 lessly over me, probed the darkness behind me, 
 took note of everything. 
 
 " Enough to compel you, Monsieur," I replied 
 sternly-. " But that is not all. There are thirty 
 dragoons coming up the hill to secure you, and 
 they will make you no such offer. Surrender
 
 THE ARREST. 249 
 
 to me before they come and give me your parole, 
 and I will do all for your comfort. Delay, and 
 you will fall into their hands. There can be 
 no escape." 
 
 "You will take my word," he said slowly. 
 
 " Give it, and you may keep your pistols, M. de 
 Cocheforet," I replied. 
 
 " Tell me at least that you are not alone." 
 
 " I am not alone." 
 
 " Then I give it," he said, with a sigh. " And 
 for Heaven's sake get me something to eat and 
 a bed. I am tired of this pig-sty and this life. 
 Arnidieu ! it is a fortnight since I slept between 
 sheets." 
 
 " You shall sleep to-night in your own house 
 if you please," I answered hurriedly. " But 
 here they come. Be good enough to stay where 
 you are a moment, and I will meet them." 
 
 I stepped out into the darkness, in the nick 
 of time. The lieutenant, after posting his men 
 round the hollow, had just slid down with a 
 couple of sergeants to make the arrest. The 
 place round the open door was pitch dark. 
 He had not espied my knave, who had lodged
 
 250 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 himself in the deepest shadow of the hut; and 
 when he saw me come out across the light, he 
 took me for Cocheforet. In a twinkling he 
 thrust a pistol into my face, and cried trium- 
 phantly, " You are my prisoner ! " At the same 
 instant one of the sergeants raised a lanthorn 
 and threw its light into my eyes. 
 
 "What folly is this?" I said savagely. 
 
 The lieutenant's jaw fell, and he stood for 
 half a minute, paralyzed with astonishment. 
 Less than an hour before he had left me at 
 the Chateau. Thence he had come hither with 
 the briefest delay ; and yet he found me here be- 
 fore him ! He swore fearfully, his face dark, his 
 mustachios stiff with rage. " What is this ? What 
 is it?" he cried at last. "Where is the man?" 
 
 " What man ? " I said. 
 
 " This Cocheforet ! " he roared, carried away 
 by his passion. " Don't lie to me ! He is here, 
 and I will have him ! " 
 
 " You will not. You are too late ! " I said, 
 watching him heedfully. " M. de Cocheforet is 
 here, but he has already surrendered to me, and 
 he is my prisoner."
 
 THE ARREST. 2$ I 
 
 " Your prisoner ? " 
 
 " Yes, my prisoner ! " I answered, facing the 
 man with all the harshness I could muster. " I 
 have arrested him by virtue of the Cardinal's 
 special commission granted to me. And by 
 virtue of the same I shall keep him ! " 
 
 He glared at me for a moment in utter rage 
 and perplexity. Then on a sudden I saw his face 
 lighten. " It is a d d ruse ! " he shouted, bran- 
 dishing his pistol like a madman. " It is a cheat 
 and a fraud ! And by G d you have no commis- 
 sion ! I see through it ! I see through it all ! 
 You have come here, and you have hocussed us ! 
 You are of their side, and this is your last shift 
 to save him ! " 
 
 "What folly is this?" I exclaimed. 
 
 " No folly at all ! " he answered, conviction in 
 his tone. " You have played upon us ! You 
 have fooled us ! But I see through it now ! 
 An hour ago I exposed you to that fine Madame 
 at the house there, and I thought it a marvel 
 that she did not believe me. I thought it a 
 marvel that she did not see through you, when 
 you stood there before her, confounded, tongue-
 
 252 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 tied, a rogue convicted ! But I understand it 
 
 now. She knew you ! By , she knew you ! 
 
 She was in the plot, and you were in the plot; 
 and I, who thought I was opening her eyes, 
 was the only one fooled ! But it is my turn 
 now. You have played a bold part, and a clever 
 one, and I congratulate you ! But," he continued, 
 a sinister light in his little eyes, "it is at an 
 end now, Monsieur ! You took us in finely with 
 your tale of Monseigneur, and his commission, 
 and your commission, and the rest. But I am 
 not to be blinded any longer, or bullied ! You 
 have arrested him, have you ? You have arrested 
 him ! Well, by G d, I shall arrest him, and I 
 shall arrest you too ! " 
 
 " You are mad ! " I said, staggered as much 
 by this new view of the matter as by his perfect 
 conviction of its truth. " Mad, Lieutenant ! " 
 
 " I was ! " he snarled drily. " But I am sane 
 now. I was mad when you imposed upon us ; 
 when you persuaded me that you were fooling the 
 women to get the secret out of them, while all 
 the time you were sheltering them, protecting 
 them, aiding them, and hiding him then I was
 
 THE ARREST. 253 
 
 mad ! But not now. However, I ask your par- 
 don, M. de Barthe, or M. de Berault, or whatever 
 your name really is. I ask your pardon. I 
 thought you the cleverest sneak and the dirtiest 
 hound heaven ever made, or hell refused ! I find 
 that you were cleverer than I thought, ajid an 
 honest traitor. Your pardon." 
 
 One of the men who stood about the rim of 
 the bowl above us laughed. I looked at the 
 lieutenant, and could willingly have killed him. 
 " Mon Dieu ! " I said, so furious in my turn that 
 I could scarcely speak. " Do you say that I am 
 an impostor that I do not hold the Cardinal's 
 commission ? " 
 
 "I do say that!" he answered coolly. "And 
 shall abide by it." 
 
 " And that I belong to the rebel party ? " 
 
 " I do," he replied, in the same tone. " In 
 fact," with a grin, " I say that you are an honest 
 man on the wrong side, M. de Berault. And you 
 say that you are a scoundrel on the right. The 
 advantage, however, is with me, and I shall back 
 my opinion by arresting you." 
 
 A ripple of coarse laughter ran round the
 
 254 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 hollow. The sergeant who held the lanthorn 
 grinned, and a trooper at a distance called out 
 of the darkness, " A bon chat bon rat ! " This 
 brought a fresh burst of laughter, while I stood 
 speechless, confounded by the stubbornness, the 
 crassness, the insolence, of the man. "You fool!'' 
 I cried at last, " you fool ! " And then M. de 
 Cocheforet, who had come out of the hut, and 
 taken his stand at my elbow, interrupted me. 
 
 " Pardon me one moment," he said airily, look- 
 ing at the lieutenant, with raised eyebrows, and 
 pointing to me with his thumb. " But I am 
 puzzled between you. This gentleman's name ? 
 Is it de Berault or de Barthe ? " 
 
 "I am M. de Berault," I said brusquely, 
 answering for myself. 
 
 " Of Paris ? " 
 
 " Yes, Monsieur, of Paris." 
 
 " You are not then the gentleman who has been 
 honouring my poor house with his presence?" 
 
 " Oh, yes ! " the lieutenant struck in, grinning. 
 " He is that gentleman, too ! " 
 
 "But I thought I understood that that was 
 M. de Barthe."
 
 THE ARREST, 2$$ 
 
 "I am M. de Barthe, also," I retorted impa- 
 tiently. "What of that, Monsieur? It was my 
 mother's name. I took it when I came down 
 here." 
 
 "To er, to arrest me, may I ask?" 
 
 " Yes," I answered doggedly. " To arrest you. 
 What of that?" 
 
 " Nothing," he replied slowly and with a steady 
 look at me, a look I could not meet. " Except 
 that, had I known this before, M. de Berault, I 
 should have thought long before I surrendered 
 to you." 
 
 The lieutenant laughed, and I felt my cheek 
 burn. But I affected to see nothing, and turned 
 to him again. " Now, Monsieur," I said sternly, 
 " are you satisfied ? " 
 
 " No ! " he answered point blank. " I am not. 
 You two gentlemen may have rehearsed this 
 pretty scene a dozen times. The only word it 
 seems to me, is, Quick March, back to Quarters." 
 
 I found myself driven to play my last card 
 much against my will. " Not so," I said ; " I 
 have my commission." 
 
 " Produce it ! " he replied brusquely.
 
 256 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 "Do you think that I carry it with me?" I 
 said, in scorn. " Do you think that when I came 
 here, alone, and not with fifty dragoons at my 
 back, I carried the Cardinal's seal in my pocket 
 for the first lackey to find ? But you shall have 
 it. Where is that knave of mine ? " 
 
 The words were scarcely out of my mouth 
 before his ready hand thrust a paper into my 
 fingers. I opened it slowly, glanced at it, and 
 amid a pause of surprise gave it to the lieuten- 
 ant. He looked for a moment confounded. He 
 stared at it, with his jaw fallen. Then with a 
 last instinct of suspicion he bade the sergeant 
 hold up the lanthorn, and by its light proceeded 
 to spell out the document. 
 
 " Umph ! " he ejaculated, after a moment's 
 silence ; and he cast an ugly look at me. " I 
 see." And he read it aloud. 
 
 "By these presents I command and empower Gilles de 
 Berault, sieur de Berault, to seek for, hold, arrest, and deliver 
 to the Governor of the Bastile the body of Henri de Cocheforet, 
 and to do all such acts and things as shall be necessary to 
 effect such arrest and delivery, for which these shall be his 
 warrant. 
 
 " (Signed) RICHELIEU, Lieut.-Gen."
 
 "THE ARREST. 257 
 
 When he had done, and he read the signature 
 with a peculiar intonation, some one said softly, 
 " Vive le roi /" and there was a moment's silence. 
 The sergeant lowered his lanthorn. " Is it 
 enough ? " I said hoarsely, glaring from face 
 to face. 
 
 The lieutenant bowed stiffly. " For me ? " 
 he said. " Quite, Monsieur. I beg your pardon 
 again. I find that my first impressions were the 
 correct ones. Sergeant, give the gentleman his 
 paper." And turning his shoulder rudely, he 
 tossed the commission towards the sergeant, who 
 picked it up, and gave it to me, grinning. 
 
 I knew that the clown would not fight, and 
 he had his men round him; and I had no choice 
 but to swallow the insult. As I put the paper 
 in my breast, with as much indifference as I 
 could assume, he gave a sharp order. The 
 troopers began to form on the edge above, the 
 men who had descended, to climb the bank. As 
 the group behind him began to open and melt 
 away, I caught sight of a white robe in the 
 middle of it. The next moment, appearing with 
 a suddenness which was like a blow on the cheek 
 
 s
 
 258 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 to me, Mademoiselle de Cocheforet glided for- 
 ward, and came towards me. She had a hood 
 on her head, drawn low; and for a moment I 
 could not see her face. I forgot her brother's 
 presence at my elbow ; from habit and impulse 
 rather than calculation, I took a step forward 
 to meet her though my tongue cleaved to the 
 roof of my mouth, and I was dumb and trem- 
 bling. 
 
 But she recoiled with such a look of white 
 hate, of staring, frozen-eyed loathing, that I 
 stepped back as if she had indeed struck me. It 
 did not need the words which accompanied the 
 look, the " Do not touch me!" which she hissed 
 at me as she drew her skirts together, to drive 
 me to the farther edge of the hollow; there to 
 stand with clenched teeth and nails driven into 
 the flesh while she hung, sobbing tearless sobs, 
 on her brother's neck.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE ROAD TO PARIS. 
 
 I REMEMBER hearing Marshal Bassompierre, 
 who, of all men within my knowledge, had the 
 widest experience, say that not dangers, but dis- 
 comforts, prove a man, and show what he is; 
 and that the worst sores in life are caused by 
 crumpled rose-leaves and not by thorns. 
 
 I am inclined to agree with this. For I remem- 
 ber that when I came from my room on the 
 morning after the arrest, and found hall and 
 parlour and passage empty, and all the common 
 rooms of the house deserted, and no meal laid, 
 and when I divined anew from this discovery 
 the feeling of the house towards me, however 
 natural and to be expected, I felt as sharp a 
 pang as when, the night before, I had had to 
 face discovery and open rage and scorn. I stood 
 in the silent, empty parlour, and looked round 
 259 s 2
 
 260 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 me with a sense of desolation ; of something lost 
 and gone, which I could not replace. The morn- 
 ing was grey and cloudy, the air sharp ; a shower 
 was falling. The rose-bushes at the window 
 swayed in the wind, and where I could remember 
 the hot sunshine lying on floor and table, the 
 rain beat in and stained the boards. The main 
 door flapped and creaked to and fro. I thought 
 of other days and meals I had taken there, and 
 of the scent of flowers, and I fled to the hall 
 in despair. 
 
 But here, too, was no sign of life or company, 
 no comfort, no attendance. The ashes of the 
 logs, by whose blaze Mademoiselle had told me 
 the secret, lay on the hearth white and cold ; 
 and now and then a drop of moisture, sliding 
 down the great chimney, pattered among them. 
 The great door stood open as if the house had 
 no longer anything to guard. The only living 
 thing to be seen was a hound which roamed 
 about restlessly, now gazing at the empty hearth, 
 now lying down with pricked ears and watchful 
 eyes. Some leaves which had been blown in 
 rustled in a corner.
 
 THE ROAD TO PARIS. 261 
 
 I went out moodily into the garden, and wan- 
 dered down one path, and up another, looking 
 at the dripping woods and remembering things, 
 until I came to the stone seat. On it, against 
 the wall, trickling with rain-drops, and with a dead 
 leaf half filling its narrow neck, stood the pitcher 
 of food. I thought how much had happened 
 since Mademoiselle took her hand off it and 
 the sergeant's lanthorn disclosed it to me. And 
 sighing grimly, I went in again through the par- 
 lour door. 
 
 A woman was on her knees, kindling the be- 
 lated fire. I stood a moment, looking at her 
 doubtfully, wondering how she would bear her- 
 self, and what she would say to me: and then 
 she turned, and I cried out her name in horror ; 
 for it was Madame ! 
 
 She was very plainly dressed ; her childish 
 face was wan, and piteous with weeping. But 
 either the night had worn out her passion and 
 drained her tears, or this great exigency gave 
 her temporary calmness; for she was perfectly 
 composed. She shivered as her eyes met mine, 
 and she blinked as if a light had been suddenly
 
 262 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 thrust before her. But she turned again to her 
 task, without speaking. 
 
 " Madame ! Madame ! " I cried, in a frenzy of 
 distress. "What is this?" 
 
 " The servants would not do it," she answered, 
 in a low but steady voice. "You are still our 
 guest, Monsieur, and it must be done." 
 
 " But I cannot suffer it ! " I cried, in misery. 
 "Madame de Cocheforet, I will I would 
 rather do it myself ! " 
 
 She raised her hand, with a strange, patient 
 expression on her face. " Hush, please," she 
 said. " Hush ! you trouble me." 
 
 The fire took light and blazed up as she spoke, 
 and she rose slowly from it, and, with a lingering 
 look at it, went out ; leaving me to stand and 
 stare and listen in the middle of the floor. Pres- 
 ently I heard her coming back along the pas- 
 sage, and she entered, bearing a tray with wine 
 and meat and bread. She set it down on the 
 table, and with the same wan face, trembling 
 always on the verge of tears, she began to lay 
 out the things. The glasses clinked pitifully 
 against the plates as she handled them; the
 
 THE ROAD TO PARIS. 263 
 
 knives jarred with one another; and I stood by, 
 trembling myself, and endured this strange, this 
 awful penance. 
 
 She signed to me at last to sit down and eat; 
 and she went herself, and stood in the garden 
 doorway, with her back to me. I obeyed. I sat 
 down ; but though I had eaten nothing since the 
 afternoon of the day before, and a little earlier 
 had had appetite enough, I could not swallow. 
 I fumbled with my knife, and munched and 
 drank; and grew hot and angry at this farce; 
 and then looked through the window at the drip- 
 ping bushes, and the rain, and the distant sun- 
 dial, and grew cold again. 
 
 Suddenly she turned round and came to my 
 side. "You do not eat," she said. 
 
 I threw down my knife, and sprang up in a 
 frenzy of passion. " Mon Dieu ! Madame!" I 
 cried. " Do you think I have no heart ? " 
 
 And then in a moment I knew what I had 
 done. In a moment she was on her knees on 
 the floor, clasping my knees, pressing her wet 
 cheeks to my rough clothes, crying to me for 
 mercy for life ! life ! life ! his life ! Oh, it
 
 264 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 was horrible ! It was horrible to see her fair 
 hair falling over my mud-stained boots, to see 
 her slender little form convulsed with sobs, to 
 feel that this was a woman, a gentlewoman, who 
 thus abased herself at my feet. 
 
 " Oh, Madame ! Madame ! " I cried, in my agony, 
 " I beg you to rise. Rise, or I must go ! You 
 will drive me out ! " .-; I 
 
 " Grant me his life ! " she moaned passionately. 
 " Only his life ! What had he done to you, that 
 you should hunt him down ? What had we done 
 to you, that you should slay us ? Ah, Sir, have 
 mercy ! Let him go, and we will pray for you ; I 
 and my sister will pray for you every morning and 
 night of our lives." 
 
 I was in terror lest some one should come and 
 see her lying there, and I stooped and tried to 
 raise her. But she would not rise ; she only sank 
 the lower until her tender hands clasped my spurs, 
 and I dared not move. Then I took a sudden 
 resolution. " Listen then, Madame," I said, almost 
 sternly, " if you will not rise. When you ask what 
 you do, you forget how I stand, and how small my 
 power is ! You forget that were I to release your
 
 THE ROAD TO PARIS. 265 
 
 husband to-day, he would be seized within the 
 hour by those who are still in the village, and who 
 are watching every road who have not ceased 
 to suspect my movements and my intentions. 
 You forget, I say, my circumstances " , 
 
 She cut me short on that word. She sprang 
 abruptly to her feet and faced me. One moment, 
 and I should have said something to the purpose. 
 But at that word she was before me, white, breath- 
 less, dishevelled, struggling for speech. " Oh 
 yes, yes," she panted eagerly, "I know! I under- 
 stand ! " And she thrust her hand into her bosom 
 and plucked something out and gave it to me 
 forced it upon me into my hands. " I know ! I 
 know ! " she said again. " Take it, and God re- 
 ward you, Monsieur! We give it freely freely 
 and thankfully ! And may God bless you ! " 
 
 I stood and looked at her, and looked at it, and 
 slowly froze. She had given me the packet the 
 packet I had restored to Mademoiselle, the parcel 
 of jewels. I weighed it in my hands, and my 
 heart grew hard again, for I knew that this was 
 Mademoiselle's doing; that it was she who, mis- 
 trusting the effect of Madame's tears and prayers,
 
 266 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 had armed her with this last weapon this dirty 
 bribe. I flung it down on the table among the 
 plates, all my pity changed to anger. " Madame," 
 I cried ruthlessly, "you mistake me altogether. 
 I have heard hard words enough in the last 
 twenty-four hours, and I know what you think 
 of me ! But you have yet to learn that I have 
 never turned traitor to the hand that employed 
 me, nor sold my own side ! When I do so for a 
 treasure ten times the worth of that, may my hand 
 rot off!" 
 
 She sank into a seat, with a moan of despair, 
 and at that moment the door opened, and M. de 
 Cocheforet came in. Over his shoulder I had a 
 glimpse of Mademoiselle's proud face, a little 
 whiter to-day, with dark marks under the eyes, 
 but still firm and cold. " What is this ? " he said, 
 frowning and stopping short as his eyes lighted 
 on Madame. 
 
 " It is that we start at eleven o'clock, Mon- 
 sieur," I answered, bowing curtly. " Those, I 
 fancy, are your property." And pointing to the 
 jewels, I went out by the other door.
 
 THE ROAD TO PARIS. 267 
 
 That I might not be present at their parting, I 
 remained in the garden until the hour I had ap- 
 pointed was well passed; then without entering 
 the house I went to the stable entrance. Here I 
 found all ready, the two troopers (whose company 
 I had requisitioned as far as Auch) already in the 
 saddle, my own two knaves waiting with my sorrel 
 and M. de Cocheforet's chestnut. Another horse 
 was being led up and down by Louis, and, alas, 
 my heart winced at the sight. For it bore a lady's 
 saddle, and I saw that we were to have company. 
 Was it Madame who meant to come with us ? or 
 Mademoiselle ? And how far ? To Auch ? or 
 farther ? 
 
 I suppose that they had set some kind of a 
 watch on me ; for, as I walked up, M. de Coche- 
 f oret and his sister came out of the house, he 
 looking white, with bright eyes and a twitching 
 in his cheek, though through all he affected a 
 jaunty bearing; she wearing a black mask. 
 
 " Mademoiselle accompanies us ? " I said for- 
 mally. 
 
 "With your permission, Monsieur," he an- 
 swered, with grim politeness. But I saw that
 
 268 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 he was choking with emotion. I guessed that he 
 had just parted from his wife, and I turned away. 
 
 When we were all mounted, he looked at me. 
 " Perhaps, as you have my parole, you will permit 
 me to ride alone," he said, with a little hesitation, 
 "and " 
 
 "Without me!" I rejoined keenly. "Assuredly, 
 so far as is possible." I directed the troopers 
 to ride in front and keep out of ear-shot; my 
 two men followed the prisoner at a like distance, 
 with their carbines on their knees. Last of all 
 I rode myself, with my eyes open and a pistol 
 loose in my holster. M. de Cocheforet, I saw, 
 was inclined to sneer at so many precautions, 
 and the mountain made of his request; but I 
 had not done so much and come so far, I had 
 not faced scorn and insults, to be cheated of my 
 prize at last. Aware that until we were beyond 
 Auch there must be hourly and pressing danger 
 of a rescue, I was determined that he who would 
 wrest my prisoner from me should pay dearly 
 for it. Only pride, and, perhaps, in a degree 
 also, appetite for a fight, had prevented me 
 borrowing ten troopers instead of two.
 
 THE ROAD TO PARIS. 269 
 
 We started, and I looked with a lingering eye 
 and many memories at the little bridge, the nar- 
 row woodland path, the first roofs of the village ; 
 all now familiar, all seen for the last time. Up 
 the brook a party of soldiers were dragging for 
 the captain's body. A furlong farther on, a 
 cottage, burned by some carelessness in the 
 night, lay a heap of black ashes. Louis ran 
 beside us, weeping ; the last brown leaves flut- 
 tered down in showers. And between my eyes 
 and all, the slow, steady rain fell and fell and 
 fell. And so I left Cocheforet. 
 
 Louis went with us to a point a mile beyond 
 the village, and there stood and saw us go, curs- 
 ing me furiously as I passed. Looking back 
 when we had ridden on, I still saw him standing; 
 and after a moment's hesitation I rode back to 
 him. " Listen, fool," I said, cutting him short 
 in the midst of his mowing and snarling, "and 
 give this message to your mistress. Tell her 
 from me that it will be with her husband as 
 it was with M. de Regnier, when he fell into 
 the hands of his enemy no better and no 
 worse."
 
 270 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 " You want to kill her, too, I suppose ? " he 
 answered, glowering at me. 
 
 " No, fool ! I want to save her ! " I retorted 
 wrathfully. "Tell her that, just that and no 
 more, and you will see the result." 
 
 " I shall not," he said sullenly. " I shall not 
 tell her. A message from you, indeed ! " And 
 he spat on the ground. 
 
 "Then on your head be it!" I answered sol- 
 emnly. And I turned my horse's head and gal- 
 loped fast after the others. For, in spite of his 
 refusal, I felt sure that he would report what I 
 had said if it were only out of curiosity; and 
 it would be strange if Madame did not understand 
 the reference. 
 
 And so we began our journey; sadly, under 
 dripping trees and a leaden sky. The country 
 we had to traverse was the same I had trodden 
 on the last day of my march southwards, but the 
 passage of a month had changed the face of 
 everything. Green dells, where springs welling 
 out of the chalk had made of the leafy bottom 
 a fairies' home, strewn with delicate ferns and 
 hung with mosses these were now swamps into
 
 THE ROAD TO PARIS. 2JI 
 
 which our horses sank to the fetlock. Sunny 
 brows, whence I had viewed the champaign and 
 traced my forward path, had become bare, wind- 
 swept ridges. The beech woods, which had 
 glowed with ruddy light, were naked now; mere 
 black trunks and rigid arms pointing to heaven. 
 An earthy smell filled the air; a hundred paces 
 away a wall of mist closed the view. We plodded 
 on sadly, up hill and down* hill ; now fording 
 brooks already stained with flood-water, now 
 crossing barren heaths. 
 
 But up hill or down hill, whatever the outlook, 
 I was never permitted to forget that I was the 
 jailer, the ogre, the villain ; that I, riding behind 
 in my loneliness, was the blight on all, the death- 
 spot. True, I was behind the others ; I escaped 
 their eyes. But there was not a line of Mademoi- 
 selle's drooping figure that did not speak scorn to 
 me, not a turn of her head that did not seem to 
 say, " Oh God, that such a thing should breathe ! " 
 
 I had only speech with her once during the 
 day, and that was on the last ridge before we 
 went down into the valley to climb up again to 
 Auch. The rain had ceased; the sun, near its
 
 2/2 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 setting, shone faintly ; and for a few moments we 
 stood on the brow and looked southwards while 
 we breathed the horses. The mist lay like a 
 pall on all the country we had traversed; but 
 beyond it and above it, gleaming pearl-like in 
 the level rays, the line of the mountains stood 
 up like a land of enchantment, soft, radiant, won- 
 derful, or like one of those castles on the Hill 
 of Glass of which the old romances tell us. 
 I forgot, for an instant, how we were placed, 
 and I cried to my neighbour that it was the 
 fairest pageant I had ever seen. 
 
 She it was Mademoiselle, and she had taken 
 off her mask cast one look at me; only one, 
 but it conveyed disgust and loathing so unspeak- 
 able that scorn beside them would have been 
 a gift. I reined in my horse as if she had struck 
 me, and felt myself go first hot and then cold 
 under her eyes. Then she looked another way. 
 
 I did not forget the lesson ; after that I avoided 
 her more sedulously than before. We lay that 
 night at Auch, and I gave M. de Cocheforet the 
 utmost liberty ; even permitting him to go out 
 and return at his will. In the morning, believing
 
 THE ROAD TO PARIS. 273 
 
 that on the farther side of Auch we ran less risk 
 of attack, I dismissed the two dragoons, and 
 an hour after sunrise we set out again. The 
 day was dry and cold, the weather more prom- 
 ising. I planned to go by way of Lectoure, 
 crossing the Garonne at Agen ; and I thought 
 with roads continually improving as we moved 
 northwards, we should be able to make good 
 progress before night. My two men rode first; 
 I came last by myself. 
 
 Our way lay for some hours down the valley 
 of the Gers, under poplars and by long rows of 
 willows; and presently the sun came out and 
 warmed us. Unfortunately, the rain of the day 
 before had swollen the brooks which crossed our 
 path, and we more than once had a difficulty 
 in fording them. Noon, therefore, found us lit- 
 tle more than half-way to Lectoure, and I was 
 growing each minute more impatient, when our 
 road, which had for a little while left the river 
 bank, dropped down to it again, and I saw before 
 us another crossing, half ford, half slough. My 
 men tried it gingerly, and gave back, and tried 
 it again in another place ; and finally, just as
 
 2/4 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 Mademoiselle and Monsieur came up to them, 
 floundered through and sprang slantwise up the 
 farther bank. 
 
 The delay had been long enough to bring me, 
 with no good will of my own, close up to the 
 Cocheforets. Mademoiselle's horse made a little 
 business of the place; this delayed them still 
 longer, and in the result, we entered the water 
 almost together, and I crossed close on her heels. 
 The bank on either side was steep ; while cross- 
 ing we could see neither before nor behind. At 
 the moment, however, I thought nothing of this, 
 nor of her delay, and I was following her quite 
 at my leisure, when the sudden report of a car- 
 bine, a second report, and a yell of alarm in 
 front, thrilled me through. 
 
 On the instant, while the sound was still in my 
 ears, I saw it all. Like a hot iron piercing my 
 brain, the truth flashed into my mind. We were 
 attacked ! We were attacked, and I was here 
 helpless in this pit, this trap ! The loss of a 
 second while I fumbled here, Mademoiselle's 
 horse barring the way, might be fatal. 
 
 There was but one way. I turned my horse
 
 THE ROAD TO PARIS. 2/5 
 
 straight at the steep bank, and he breasted it. 
 One moment he hung as if he must fall back. 
 Then, with a snort of terror and a desperate 
 bound, he topped it, and gained the level, trem- 
 bling and snorting. 
 
 It was as I had guessed. Seventy paces away 
 on the road lay one of my men. He had fallen, 
 horse and man, and lay still. Near him, with 
 his back against a bank, stood his fellow, on foot, 
 pressed by four horsemen, and shouting. As 
 my eye lighted on the scene, he let fly with a 
 carbine and dropped one. 
 
 I snatched a pistol from my holster, cocked it, 
 and seized my horse by the head I might save 
 the man yet. I shouted to encourage him, and 
 in another second should have charged into the 
 fight, when a sudden vicious blow, swift and 
 unexpected, struck the pistol from my hand. 
 
 I made a snatch at it as it fell, but missed it ; 
 and before I could recover myself, Mademoiselle 
 thrust her horse furiously against mine, and with 
 her riding-whip, lashed the sorrel across the ears. 
 As my horse reared madly up, I had a glimpse 
 of her eyes flashing hate through her mask; of 
 
 T 2
 
 2?6 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 her hand again uplifted ; the next moment, I was 
 down in the road, ingloriously unhorsed, the 
 sorrel was galloping away, and her horse, scared 
 in its turn, was plunging unmanageably a score 
 of paces from me. 
 
 I don't doubt that but for that she would have 
 trampled on me. As it was, I was free to draw ; 
 and in a twinkling I was running towards the 
 fighters. All I have described had happened in 
 a few seconds. My man was still defending 
 himself; the smoke of the carbine had scarcely 
 risen. I sprang with a shout across a fallen tree 
 that intervened ; at the same moment, two of the 
 men detached themselves, and rode to meet me. 
 One, whom I took to be the leader, was masked. 
 He came furiously at me, trying to ride me down; 
 but I leaped aside nimbly, and evading him, 
 rushed at the other, and scaring his horse, so 
 that he dropped his point, cut him across the 
 shoulder before he could guard himself. He 
 plunged away, cursing, and trying to hold in his 
 horse, and I turned to meet the masked man. 
 
 " You double-dyed villain ! " he cried, riding at 
 me again. And this time he manoeuvred his
 
 J. 
 
 " You villain ! " he cried, riding at me again.
 
 THE ROAD TO PARIS. 277 
 
 horse so skilfully that I was hard put to it to 
 prevent him knocking me down ; and could not 
 with all my efforts reach him to hurt him. " Sur- 
 render, will you!" he continued, "you blood- 
 hound ! " 
 
 I wounded him slightly in the knee for answer ; 
 but before I could do more his companion came 
 back, and the two set upon me with a will, slash- 
 ing at my head so furiously and towering above 
 me with so great an advantage that it was all I 
 could do to guard myself. I was soon glad to 
 fall back against the bank as my man had 
 done before me. In such a conflict my rapier 
 would have been of little use, but fortunately I 
 had armed myself before I left Paris with a cut- 
 and-thrust sword for the road; and though my 
 mastery of the weapon was not on a par with 
 my rapier-play, I was able to fend off their cuts, 
 and by an occasional prick keep the horses at a 
 distance. Still they swore and cut at me, trying 
 to wear me out ; and it was trying work. A little 
 delay, the least accident, might enable the other 
 man to come to their help, or Mademoiselle, for 
 all I knew, might shoot me with my own pistol ;
 
 2/8 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 and I confess, I was unfeignedly glad when a 
 lucky parade sent the masked man's sword flying 
 across the road. He was no coward ; for unarmed 
 as he was, he pushed his horse at me, spurring 
 it recklessly ; but the animal, which I had several 
 times touched, reared up instead and threw him 
 at the very moment that I wounded his compan- 
 ion a second time in the arm, and made him 
 give back. 
 
 This quite changed the scene. The man in the 
 mask staggered to his feet, and felt stupidly for 
 a pistol. But he could not find one, and was, I 
 saw, in no state to use it if he had. He reeled 
 helplessly to the bank, and leaned against it. He 
 would give no further trouble. The man I had 
 wounded was in scarcely better condition. He 
 retreated before me for some paces, but then 
 losing courage, he dropped his sword, and, wheel- 
 ing round, cantered off down the road, clinging to 
 his pommel. There remained only the fellow 
 engaged with my man, and I turned to see how 
 they were getting on. They were standing to 
 take breath, so I ran towards them ; but, seeing 
 me coming, this rascal, too, whipped round his
 
 THE ROAD TO PARIS. 
 
 horse, and disappeared in the wood, and left us 
 masters of the field. The first thing I did and 
 I remember it to this day with pleasure was to 
 plunge my hand into my pocket, take out half the 
 money I had in the world, and press it on the man 
 who had fought for me so stoutly, and who had 
 certainly saved me from disaster. In my joy I 
 could have kissed him ! It was not only that I had 
 escaped defeat by the skin of my teeth, and his 
 good sword, but I knew, and thrilled with the 
 knowledge, that the fight had altered the whole 
 position. He was wounded in two places, and I 
 had a scratch or two, and had lost my horse ; and 
 my other poor fellow was dead as a herring. But 
 speaking for myself, I would have spent half the 
 blood in my body to purchase the feeling with 
 which I turned back to speak to M. de Cocheforet 
 and his sister. I had fought before them. 
 
 Mademoiselle had dismounted, and with her 
 face averted and her mask pushed on one side, was 
 openly weeping. Her brother, who had scrupu- 
 lously kept his place by the ford from the begin- 
 ning of the fight to the end, met me with raised 
 eyebrows and a peculiar smile, "Acknowledge
 
 280 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 my virtue," he said airily. " I am here, M. ch 
 Berault which is more than can be said of the 
 two gentlemen who have just ridden off." 
 
 "Yes," I answered, with a touch of bitterness. 
 " I wish they had not shot my poor man before 
 they went." 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders. "They were my 
 friends," he said. " You must not expect me to 
 blame them. But that is not all." 
 
 " No," I said, wiping my sword. " There is 
 this gentleman in the mask." And I turned to go 
 towards him. 
 
 " M. de Berault ! " There was something abrupt 
 in the way in which Cocheforet called my name 
 after me. 
 
 I stood. " Pardon ? " I said, turning. 
 
 " That gentleman ? " he answered, hesitating, 
 and looking at me doubtfully. " Have you con- 
 sidered what will happen to him, if you give 
 him up to the authorities ? " 
 
 " Who is he ? " I said sharply. 
 
 " That is rather a delicate question," he 
 answered, frowning, and still looking at me 
 fixedly.
 
 THE ROAD TO PARIS. 281 
 
 "Not from me," I replied brutally, "since he 
 is in my power. -If he will take off his mask, 
 I shall know better what I intend to do with 
 him." 
 
 The stranger had lost his hat in his fall, and 
 his fair hair, stained with dust, hung in curls 
 on his shoulders. He was a tall man, of a slen- 
 der, handsome presence, and though his dress 
 was plain and almost rough, I espied a splendid 
 jewel on his hand, and fancied I detected other 
 signs of high quality. He still lay against the 
 bank in a half-swooning condition, and seemed 
 unconscious of my scrutiny. " Should I know 
 him if he unmasked ? " I said suddenly, a new 
 idea in my head. 
 
 "You would," M. de Cocheforet answered 
 simply. 
 
 "And?" 
 
 " It would be bad for every one." 
 
 " Ho, ho ! " I said softly, looking hard, first 
 at my old prisoner, and then at my new one. 
 " Then, what do you wish me to do ? " 
 
 " Leave him here," M. de Cocheforet answered 
 glibly, his face flushed, the pulse in his cheek
 
 282 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 beating. I had known him for a man of perfect 
 honour before, and trusted him.' But this evident 
 earnest anxiety on behalf of his friend touched 
 me. Besides, I knew that I was treading on 
 slippery ground; that it behoved me to be care- 
 ful. " I will do it," I said, after a moment's 
 reflection. " He will play me no tricks, I sup- 
 pose ? A letter of " - 1 
 
 "Mon Dieu, no! He will understand," Coche- 
 foret answered eagerly. "You will not repent 
 it, I swear. Let us be going." 
 
 "Well, but my horse?" I said, somewhat 
 taken aback by this extreme haste. 
 
 "We shall overtake it," he replied urgently. 
 " It will have kept to the road. Lectoure is 
 no more than a league from here, and we can 
 give orders there to have these two fetched in 
 and buried." 
 
 I had nothing to gain by demurring, and so 
 it was arranged. After that we did not linger. 
 We picked up what we had dropped, M. de Coche- 
 foret mounted his sister, and within five minutes 
 we were gone. Casting a glance back from the 
 skirts of the wood, as we entered it, fancied!
 
 THE ROAD TO PARIS. 283 
 
 that I saw the masked man straighten himself 
 and turn to look after us ; but the leaves were 
 beginning to intervene, the distance was great 
 and perhaps cheated me. And yet I was not 
 disinclined to think the unknown a little less 
 severely injured and a trifle more observant 
 than he seemed.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 AT THE FINGER-POST. 
 
 THROUGH all, it will have been noticed, Mad- 
 emoiselle had not spoken to me, nor said one word, 
 good or bad. She had played her part grimly; 
 had taken her defeat in silence, if with tears ; had 
 tried neither prayer, nor defence, nor apology. 
 And the fact that the fight was now over, the 
 scene left behind, made no difference in her con- 
 duct to my surprise and discomfiture. She 
 kept her face averted from me ; she rode as 
 before; she affected to ignore my presence. I 
 caught my horse feeding by the road-side, a fur- 
 long forward, and mounted, and fell into place 
 behind the two, as in the morning. And just as 
 we had plodded on then in silence, we plodded on 
 now, while I wondered at the unfathomable ways 
 of women, and knowing that I had borne myself 
 well, marvelled that she could take part in such an 
 incident and remain unchanged. 
 
 284
 
 AT THE FINGER-POST. 285 
 
 Yet it had made a change in her. Though her 
 mask screened her well, it could not entirely hide 
 her emotions, and by-and-bye I marked that her 
 head drooped, that she rode sadly and listlessly, 
 that the lines of her figure were altered. I noticed 
 that she had flung away, or furtively dropped, her 
 riding-whip, and I understood that to the old 
 hatred of me were now added shame and vexa- 
 tion ; shame that she had so lowered herself, even 
 to save her brother, vexation that defeat had been 
 her only reward. 
 
 Of this I saw a sign at Lectoure, where the inn 
 had but one common room, and we must all dine 
 in company. I secured for them a table by the 
 fire, and leaving them standing by it, retired my- 
 self to a smaller one, near the door. There were 
 no other guests, and this made the separation 
 between us more marked. M. de Cocheforet 
 seemed to feel this. He shrugged his shoulders 
 and looked at me with a smile half sad, half 
 comical. But Mademoiselle was implacable. She 
 had taken off her mask, and her face was like 
 stone. Once, only once, during the meal I saw a 
 change come over her. She coloured, I suppose
 
 286 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 at her thoughts, until her face flamed from brow 
 to chin. I watched the blush spread and spread, 
 and then she slowly and proudly turned her 
 shoulder to me, and looked through the window 
 at the shabby street. 
 
 I suppose that she and her brother had both 
 built on this attempt, which must have been 
 arranged at Auch. For when we went on in the 
 afternoon, I saw a more marked change. They 
 rode now like people resigned to the worst. The 
 grey realities of the brother's position, the dreary, 
 hopeless future, began to hang like a mist before 
 their eyes ; began to tinge the landscape with sad- 
 ness ; robbed even the sunset of its colours. With 
 each hour their spirits flagged and their speech 
 became less frequent, until presently, when the 
 light was nearly gone and the dusk was round us, 
 the brother and sister rode hand in hand, silent, 
 gloomy, one at least of them weeping. The cold 
 shadow of the Cardinal, of Paris, of the scaffold, 
 was beginning to make itself felt ; was beginning 
 to chill them. As the mountains which they had 
 known all their lives sank and faded behind us, and 
 we entered on the wide, low valley of the Garonne,
 
 AT THE FINGER-POST. 287 
 
 their hopes sank and faded also sank to the 
 dead-level of despair. Surrounded by guards, a 
 mark for curious glances, with pride for a com- 
 panion, M. de Cocheforet could doubtless have 
 borne himself bravely ; doubtless he would bear 
 himself bravely still when the end came. But 
 almost alone, moving forward through the grey 
 evening to a prison, with so many measured days 
 before him, and nothing to exhilarate or anger, 
 in this condition it was little wonder if he felt, and 
 betrayed that he felt, the blood run slow in his 
 veins ; if he thought more of the weeping wife 
 and ruined home, which he left behind him, than 
 of the cause in which he had spent himself. 
 
 But God knows, they had no monopoly of gloom. 
 I felt almost as sad myself. Long before sunset 
 the flush of triumph, the heat of the battle, which 
 had warmed my heart at noon, were gone ; giving 
 place to a chill dissatisfaction, a nausea, a de- 
 spondency, such as I have known follow a long 
 night at the tables. Hitherto there had been 
 difficulties to be overcome, risks to be run, doubts 
 about the end. Now the end was certain, and 
 very near ; so near that it filled all the prospect.
 
 288 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 One hour of triumph I might still have ; I hugged 
 the thought of it as a gambler hugs his last stake. 
 I planne'd the place and time and mode, and tried 
 to occupy myself wholly with it. But the price ? 
 Alas, that would intrude too, and more as the 
 evening waned ; so that as I passed this or that 
 thing by the road, which I could recall passing 
 on my journey south, with thoughts so different, 
 with plans that now seemed so very, very old, I 
 asked myself grimly if this were really I, if this 
 were Gil de Berault, known as Zaton's premier 
 joueur ; or some Don Quichotte from Castile, 
 tilting at windmills, and taking barbers' bowls 
 for gold. 
 
 We reached Agen very late in the evening, 
 after groping through a by-way near the river, 
 set with holes and willow-stools and frog-spawns 
 a place no better than a slough. After it 
 the great fire and the lights at the Blue Maid 
 seemed like a glimpse of a new world, and in a 
 twinkling put something of life and spirits into 
 two at least of us. There was queer talk round 
 the hearth here of doings in Paris, of a stir 
 against the Cardinal, with the Queen-mother at
 
 AT THE FINGER-POST. 289 
 
 bottom, and of grounded expectations that some- 
 thing might this time come of it. But the land- 
 lord pooh-poohed the idea, and I more than 
 agreed with him. Even M. de Cocheforet, who 
 was for a moment inclined to build on it, gave 
 up hope when he heard that it came only by way 
 of Montauban ; whence, since its reduction the 
 year before, all sorts of canards against the Car- 
 dinal were always on the wing. 
 
 " They kill him about once a month," our 
 host said, with a grin. "Sometimes it is Mon- 
 sieur who is to prove a match for him, sometimes 
 Char Monsieur the Duke of Vendome, you 
 understand, and sometimes the Queen-mother. 
 But since M. de Chalais and the Marshal made 
 a mess of it, and paid forfeit, I pin my faith to 
 His Eminence that is his new title, they tell 
 me." 
 
 " Things are quiet round here ? " I asked. 
 
 " Perfectly. Since the Languedoc business 
 came to an end, all goes well," he answered. 
 
 Mademoiselle had retired on our arrival, so 
 that her brother and I were for an hour or two 
 thrown together. I left him at liberty to separate
 
 29 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 himself if he pleased, but he did not use the 
 opportunity. A kind of comradeship, rendered 
 piquant by our peculiar relations, had begun to 
 spring up between us. He seemed to take pleas- 
 ure in my company, more than once rallied me 
 on my post of jailer, would . ask humorously if 
 he might do this or that, and once even inquired 
 what I should do if he broke his parole. 
 
 " Or take it this way," he continued flippantly. 
 " Suppose I had stuck you in the back this even- 
 ing, in that cursed swamp by the river, M. de 
 Berault ? What then ? Pardieu ! I am astonished 
 at myself . that I did not do it. I could have 
 been in Montauban within twenty-four hours, and 
 found fifty hiding-places, and no one the wiser." 
 
 " Except your sister," I said quietly. 
 
 He laughed and shrugged his shoulders. 
 " Yes," he said, " I am afraid I must have put 
 her out of the way too, to preserve my self- 
 respect. You are right." And on that he fell 
 into a reverie which held him for a few minutes. 
 Then I found him looking at me with a kind of 
 frank perplexity that invited question. 
 
 "What is it?" I said.
 
 AT THE FINGER-POST. 
 
 " You have fought a great many duels ? " 
 
 "Yes," I said. 
 
 " Did you never strike a foul blow in one of 
 them ? " 
 
 " Never. Why do you ask ? " 
 
 " Well, I wanted to confirm an impression," 
 he said. " To be frank, M. de Berault, I seem to 
 see in you two men." 
 
 "Two men?" 
 
 " Yes, two men," he answered. " One, the 
 man who captured me ; the other, the man who 
 let my friend go free to-day." 
 
 " It surprised you that I let him go ? That 
 was prudence, M. de Cocheforet," I replied, 
 "nothing more. I am an old gambler I 
 know when the stakes are too high for me. The 
 man who caught a lion in his wolf-pit had no 
 great catch." 
 
 " No, that is true," he answered, smiling. 
 " And yet I find two men in your skin." 
 
 " I dare say that there are two in most men's 
 skins," I answered, with a sigh, "but not always 
 together. Sometimes one is there, and sometimes 
 the other." 
 
 U 2
 
 292 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 " How does the one like taking up the other's 
 work ? " he asked keenly. 
 
 I shrugged my shoulders. "That is as may 
 be," I said. "You do not take an estate with- 
 out the debts." 
 
 He did not answer for a moment, and I fancied 
 that his thoughts had reverted to his own case. 
 But on a sudden he looked at me again. " Will 
 you answer me a question, M. de Berault ? " he 
 said, with a winning smile. 
 
 "Perhaps," I said. 
 
 "Then tell me it is a tale that is, I am sure, 
 worth the telling. What was it that, in a very 
 evil hour for me, sent you in search of me ? " 
 
 "The Cardinal," I answered. 
 
 " I did not ask who," he replied drily. " I 
 asked, what. You had no grudge against me?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 " No knowledge of me ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Then what on earth induced you to do it ? 
 Heavens, man," he continued bluntly, rising and 
 speaking with greater freedom than he had 
 before used, " nature never intended you for a tip- 
 staff! What was it, then?"
 
 AT THE FINGER-POST. 293 
 
 I rose too. It was very late, and the room 
 was empty, the fire low. " I will tell you to- 
 morrow ! " I said. " I shall have something to 
 say to you then, of which that will be part." 
 
 He looked at me in great astonishment ; with 
 a little suspicion, too. But I put him off, and 
 called for a light, and by going at once to bed, 
 cut short his questions. 
 
 Those who know the great south road to Agen, 
 and how the vineyards rise in terraces north of 
 the town, one level of red earth above another, 
 green in summer, but in late autumn bare and 
 stony, will remember a particular place where 
 the road two leagues from the town runs up a 
 long hill. At the top of the hill four ways 
 meet; and there, plain to be seen against the 
 sky is a finger-post, indicating which way leads 
 to Bordeaux, and which to Montauban, and which 
 to Perigueux. 
 
 This hill had impressed me on my journey 
 down; perhaps, because I had from it my first 
 view of the Garonne valley, and there felt myself 
 on the verge of the south country where my 
 mission lay. It had taken root in my memory ;
 
 294 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 I had come to look upon its bare, bleak brow, 
 with the finger-post and the four roads, as the 
 first outpost of Paris, as the first sign of return 
 to the old life. 
 
 Now for two days I had been looking forward 
 to seeing it again. That long stretch of road 
 would do admirably for something I had in my 
 mind. That sign-post, with the roads pointing 
 north, south, east, and west, could there be a 
 better place for meetings and partings ? 
 
 We came to the bottom of the ascent about 
 an hour before noon M. de Cocheforet, Made- 
 moiselle, and I. We had reversed the order of 
 yesterday, and I rode ahead. They came after 
 me at their leisure. At the foot of the hill, how- 
 ever, I stopped and, letting Mademoiselle pass 
 on, detained M. de Cocheforet by a gesture. 
 " Pardon me, one moment," I said. " I want to 
 ask a favour." 
 
 He looked at me somewhat fretfully, with a 
 gleam of wildness in his eyes that betrayed how 
 the iron was eating into his heart. He had 
 started after breakfast as gaily as a bridegroom, 
 but gradually he had sunk below himself; and
 
 AT THE FINGER-POST. 295 
 
 now he had much ado to curb his impatience. 
 The bonhomie of last night was quite gone. " Of 
 me ? " he said. " What is it ? " 
 
 " I wish to have a few words with Mademoi- 
 selle alone," I explained. 
 
 " Alone ? " he answered, frowning. 
 
 "Yes," I replied, without blenching, though 
 his face grew dark. " For the matter of that, 
 you can be within call all the time, if you 
 please. But I have a reason for wishing to ride 
 a little way with her." 
 
 " To tell her something ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "Then you can tell it to me," he retorted 
 suspiciously. " Mademoiselle, I will answer for 
 it, has no desire to " 
 
 " See me, or speak to me ! " I said, taking 
 him up. " I can understand that. Yet I want 
 to speak to her." 
 
 "Very well, you can speak to her before me," 
 he answered rudely. " Let us ride on and join 
 her." And he made a movement as if to do 
 so. 
 
 "That will not do, M. de Cocheforet," I said
 
 296 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 firmly, stopping him with my hand. " Let me 
 beg you to be more complaisant It is a small 
 thing I ask ; but I swear to you, if Mademoiselle 
 does not grant it, she will repent it all her 
 life." 
 
 He looked at me, his face growing darker 
 and darker. " Fine words ! " he said presently, 
 with a sneer. " Yet I fancy I understand them." 
 Then with a passionate oath he broke out in 
 a fresh tone. " But I will not have it. I have 
 not been blind, M. de Berault, and I understand. 
 But I will not have it ! I will have no such 
 Judas bargain made. Pardien ! do you think 
 I could suffer it and show my face again ? " 
 
 " I don't know what you mean ! " I said, re- 
 straining myself with difficulty. I could have 
 struck the fool. 
 
 " But I know what you mean," he replied, in 
 a tone of repressed rage. "You would have 
 her sell herself : sell herself body and soul to 
 you to save me ! And you would have me stand 
 by and see the thing done ! Well, my answer 
 is never ! though I go to the wheel ! I will 
 die a gentleman, if I have lived a fool ! "
 
 AT THE FINGER-POST. 297 
 
 " I think you will do the one as certainly as 
 you have done the other," I retorted, in my 
 exasperation. And yet I admired him. 
 
 " Oh, I am not such a fool," he cried, scowl- 
 ing at me, "as you have perhaps thought. I 
 have used my eyes." 
 
 " Then be good enough now to favour me with 
 your ears," I answered drily. " And listen when 
 I say that no such bargain has ever crossed my 
 mind. You were kind enough to think well of 
 me last night, M. de Cocheforet. Why should 
 the mention of Mademoiselle in a moment change 
 your opinion ? I wish simply to speak to her. 
 I have nothing to ask from her; neither favour 
 nor anything else. And what I say she will 
 doubtless tell you afterwards. del, man ! " I 
 continued angrily, "what harm can I do to 
 her, in the road, in your sight ? " 
 
 He looked at me sullenly, his face still flushed, 
 his eyes suspicious. "What do you want to say 
 to her?" he asked jealously. He was quite 
 unlike himself. His airy nonchalance, his care- 
 less gaiety, were gone. 
 
 " You know what I do not want to say to her,
 
 298 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 M. de Cocheforet," I answered. "That should 
 be enough." 
 
 He glowered at me for a moment, still ill con- 
 tent. Then, without a word, he made me a ges- 
 ture to go to her. 
 
 She had halted a score of paces away, won- 
 dering doubtless what was on foot. I rode 
 towards her. She wore her mask, so that I lost 
 the expression of her face as I approached, but 
 the manner in which she turned her horse's 
 head uncompromisingly towards her brother, and 
 looked past me as if I were merely a log in 
 the road was full of meaning. I felt the ground 
 suddenly cut from under me. I saluted her, trem- 
 bling. " Mademoiselle," I said, " will you grant 
 me the privilege of your company for a few min- 
 utes, as we ride." 
 
 " To what purpose, Sir ? " she answered, in the 
 coldest voice in which I think a woman ever 
 spoke to a man. 
 
 " That I may explain to you a great many 
 things you do not understand," I murmured. 
 
 " I prefer to be in the dark," she replied. And 
 her manner said more than her words.
 
 AT THE FINGER-POST. 299 
 
 " But, Mademoiselle," I pleaded, I would not 
 be discouraged, " you told me one day that you 
 would never judge me hastily again." 
 
 " Facts judge you, not I, Sir," she answered 
 icily. " I am not sufficiently on a level with you 
 to be able to judge you I thank God." 
 
 I shivered though the sun was on me, and the 
 hollow where we stood was warm. " Still once 
 before you thought the same ! " I exclaimed. 
 "Afterwards you found that you had been wrong. 
 It may be so again, Mademoiselle." 
 
 " Impossible," she said. 
 
 That stung me. "No!" I said fiercely. "It 
 is not impossible. It is you who are impossible ! 
 It is you who are heartless, Mademoiselle. I 
 have done much, very much, in the last three 
 days to make things lighter for you. I ask you 
 now to do something for me which can cost you 
 nothing." 
 
 " Nothing ? " she answered slowly ; and her 
 scornful voice cut me as if it had been a knife. 
 " Do you think, Monsieur, it costs me nothing 
 to lose my self-respect, as I do with every word 
 I speak to you ? Do you think it costs me noth-
 
 300 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 ing to be here, where I feel every look you cast 
 on me an insult, every breath I take in your 
 presence a contamination. Nothing, Monsieur ? " 
 She laughed in bitter irony. " Oh, be sure, some- 
 thing ! But something which I despair of making 
 clear to you." 
 
 I sat for a moment in my saddle, shaken and 
 quivering with pain. It had been one thing to 
 feel that she hated and scorned me, to know 
 that the trust and confidence which she had 
 begun to place in me were changed to loathing. 
 It was another to listen to hen hard, pitiless words, 
 to change colour under the lash of her gibing 
 tongue. For a moment I could not find voice 
 to answer her. Then I pointed to M. de Coche- 
 foret. " Do you love him ? " I said, hoarsely, 
 roughly. The gibing tone had passed from her 
 voice to mine. 
 
 She did not answer. 
 
 "Because, if you do," I continued, "you will 
 let me tell my tale. Say no but once more, 
 Mademoiselle, I am only human, and I go. 
 And you will repent it all your life." 
 
 I had done better had I taken that tone from
 
 AT THE FINGER-POST. 3OI 
 
 the beginning. She winced, her head drooped, 
 she seemed to grow smaller. All in a moment, 
 as it were, her pride collapsed. " I will hear 
 you," she answered feebly. 
 
 "Then we will ride on, if you please," I said, 
 keeping the advantage I had gained. " You 
 need not fear. Your brother will follow." 
 
 I caught hold of her rein and turned her 
 horse, and she suffered it without demur. In a 
 moment we were pacing side by side, the long, 
 straight road before us. At the end where it 
 topped the hill, I could see the finger-post, two 
 faint black lines against the sky. When we 
 reached that, involuntarily I checked my horse 
 and made it move more slowly. 
 
 "Well, Sir," she said impatiently. And her 
 figure shook as if with cold. 
 
 " It is a tale I desire to tell you, Made- 
 moiselle," I answered, speaking with effort. 
 " Perhaps I may seem to begin a long way off, 
 but before I end, I promise to interest you. Two 
 months ago there was living in Paris a man, 
 perhaps a bad man, at any rate, by common 
 report, a hard man."
 
 302 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 She turned to me suddenly, her eyes gleaming 
 through her mask. " Oh, Monsieur, spare me 
 this ! " she said, quietly scornful. " I will take 
 it for granted." 
 
 "Very well," I replied steadfastly. "Good 
 or bad, this man, one day, in defiance of the 
 Cardinal's edict against duelling, fought with a 
 young Englishman behind St. Jacques Church. 
 The Englishman had influence, the person of 
 whom I speak had none, and an indifferent 
 name ; he was arrested, thrown into the Chatelet, 
 cast for death, left for days to face death. At 
 the last an offer was made to him. If he 
 would seek out and deliver up another man, an 
 outlaw with a price upon his head, he should 
 himself go free." 
 
 I paused and drew a deep breath. Then I 
 continued, looking not at her, but into the dis- 
 tance : " Mademoiselle, it seems easy now to say 
 what course he should have chosen. It seems 
 hard now to find excuses for him. But there 
 was one thing which I plead for him. The task 
 he was asked to undertake was a dangerous 
 one. He risked, he knew he must risk, and the
 
 AT THE FINGER-POST. 303 
 
 event proved him right, his life against the life 
 of this unknown man. And one thing more 
 there was time before him. The outlaw might 
 be taken by another, might be killed, might die, 
 might . But there, Mademoiselle, we know 
 what answer this person made. He took the 
 baser course, and on his honour, on his parole, 
 with money supplied to him, went free, free 
 on the condition that he delivered up this other 
 man." 
 
 I paused again, but I did not dare to look 
 at her, and after a moment of silence I resumed. 
 " Some portion of the second half of this story 
 you know, Mademoiselle; but not all. Suffice 
 it that this man came down to a remote village, 
 and there at a risk, but Heaven knows, basely 
 enough, found his way into his victim's home. 
 Once there, his heart began to fail him. Had 
 he found the house garrisoned by men, he 
 might have pressed on to his end with little 
 remorse. But he found there only two helpless, 
 loyal women ; and I say again that from the 
 first hour of his entrance he sickened of the 
 work he had in hand. Still he pursued it. He
 
 304 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 had given his word, and if there was one tradi- 
 tion of his race which this man had never broken, 
 it was that of fidelity to his side; to the man 
 that paid him. But he pursued it with only 
 half his mind, in great misery sometimes, if 
 you will believe me, in agonies of shame. Grad- 
 ually, however, almost against his will, the drama 
 worked itself out before him, until he needed 
 only one thing." 
 
 I looked at Mademoiselle. But her head was 
 averted ; I could gather nothing from the out- 
 lines of her form. And I went on. " Do not 
 misunderstand me," I said, in a lower voice. " Do 
 not misunderstand what I am going to say next. 
 This is no love story, and can have no ending 
 such as romancers love to set to their tales. But 
 I am bound to mention, Mademoiselle, that this 
 man, who had lived about inns and eating-houses, 
 and at the gaming-tables almost all his days, met 
 here for the first time for years a good woman ; 
 and learned by the light of her loyalty and 
 devotion to see what his life had been, and 
 what was the real nature of the work he was 
 doing. I think, nay, I know that it added a
 
 AT THE FINGER-POST. 305 
 
 hundredfold to his misery, that when he learned 
 at last the secret he had come to surprise, he 
 learned it from her lips, and in such a way 
 that had he felt no shame, hell could have 
 been no place for him. But in one thing she 
 misjudged him. She thought, and had reason 
 to think, that the moment he knew her secret 
 he went out, not even closing the door, and used 
 it. But the truth was that, while her words 
 were still in his ears, news came to him that 
 others had the secret; and had he not gone 
 out on the instant, and done what he did, and 
 forestalled them, M. de Cocheforet would have 
 been taken, but by others." 
 
 Mademoiselle broke her long silence so sud- 
 denly that her horse sprang forward. " Would 
 to Heaven he had ! " she wailed. 
 
 " Been taken by others ? " I exclaimed, startled 
 out of my false composure. 
 
 " Oh, yes, yes ! " she answered passionately. 
 " Why did you not tell me ? Why did you not 
 confess to me even then ? I oh, no more ! 
 No more ! " she continued, in a piteous voice. 
 " I have heard enough. You are racking my
 
 306 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 heart, M. de Berault. Some day I will ask God 
 to give me strength to forgive you." 
 
 " But you have not heard me out," I replied. 
 
 " I want to hear no more," she answered, in 
 a voice she vainly strove to render steady. " To 
 what end ? Can I say more than I have said ? 
 Did you think I could forgive you now with 
 him behind us going to his death ? Oh, no, 
 no !" she continued. " Leave me ! I implore you 
 to leave me. I am not well." 
 
 She drooped over her horse's neck as she 
 spoke and began to weep so passionately that 
 the tears ran down her cheeks under her mask, 
 and fell and sparkled like dew on the mane before 
 her; while her sobs shook her so painfully that 
 I thought she must fall. I stretched out my 
 hand instinctively to give her help ; but she 
 shrank from me. " No ! " she gasped, between 
 her sobs. " Do not touch me. There is too 
 much between us." 
 
 "Yet there must be one thing more between 
 us," I answered firmly. "You must listen to 
 me a little longer, whether you will or no, Mad- 
 emoiselle, for the love you bear to your brother.
 
 AT THE FINGER-POST. 307 
 
 There is one course still open to me by which 
 I may redeem my honour; it has been in my 
 mind for some time back to take that course. 
 To-day, I am thankful to say, I can take it 
 cheerfully, if not without regret; with a stead- 
 fast heart, if with no light one. Mademoiselle," 
 I continued earnestly, feeling none of the tri- 
 umph, none of the vanity, I had foreseen, but 
 only joy in the joy I could give her, "I thank 
 God that it is still in my power to undo what 
 I have done; that it is still in my power to go 
 back to him who sent me, and telling him that 
 I have changed my mind and will bear my own 
 burdens, to pay the penalty." 
 
 We were within a hundred paces of the brow 
 of the hill and the finger-post now. She cried 
 out wildly that she did not understand. " What 
 is it you have just said ? " she murmured. " I 
 cannot hear." And she began to fumble with 
 the ribbon of her mask. 
 
 " Only this, Mademoiselle," I answered gently. 
 " I give back to your brother his word and his 
 parole. From this moment he is free to go 
 whither he pleases. You shall tell him so from 
 
 x 2
 
 308 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 me. Here, where we stand, four roads meet. 
 That to the right goes to Montauban, where you 
 have doubtless friends, and can lie hid for a time ; 
 or that to the left leads to Bordeaux, where you 
 can take ship if you please. And in a word, 
 Mademoiselle," I continued, ending a little feebly, 
 " I hope that your troubles are now over." 
 
 She turned her face to me we had both 
 come to a standstill and plucked at the fasten- 
 ings of her mask. But her trembling fingers 
 had knotted the string, and in a moment she 
 dropped her hands with a cry of despair. " And 
 you ? You ? " she said, in a voice so changed I 
 should not have known it for hers. "What will 
 you do ? I do not understand. This mask ! I 
 cannot hear." 
 
 "There is a third road," I answered. " It leads 
 to Paris. That is my road, Mademoiselle. We 
 part here." 
 
 "But why? Why?" she cried wildly. 
 
 " Because from to-day I would fain begin to be 
 honourable," I answered, in a low voice. " Be- 
 cause I dare not be generous at another's cost. 
 I must go back to the Chltelet."
 
 AT THE FINGER-POST. 309 
 
 She tried feverishly to raise her mask with 
 her hand. " I am not well," she stammered. 
 " I cannot breathe." 
 
 She swayed so violently in her saddle as she 
 spoke, that I sprang down, and running round 
 her horse's head, was just in time to catch her 
 as she fell. She was not quite unconscious then, 
 for, as I supported her, she murmured, " Leave 
 me ! Leave me ! I am not worthy that you 
 should touch me." 
 
 Those words made me happy. I carried her 
 to the bank, my heart on fire, and laid her against 
 it just as M. de Cocheforet rode up. He sprang 
 from his horse, his eyes blazing with anger. 
 " What is this ? " he cried harshly. " What have 
 you been saying to her, man?" 
 
 " She will tell you," I answered drily, my com- 
 posure returning under his eye, " amongst other 
 things, that you are free. From this moment, 
 M. de Cocheforet, I give you back your parole, 
 and I take my own honour. Farewell." 
 
 He cried out something as I mounted, but I 
 did not stay to hear or answer. I dashed the 
 spurs into my horse, and rode away past the cross-
 
 310 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 roads, past the finger-post; away with the level 
 upland stretching before me, dry, bare, almost 
 treeless and behind me all I loved. Once, when 
 I had gone a hundred yards, I looked back and 
 saw him standing upright against the sky, staring 
 after me across her body. And again I looked 
 back. This time I saw only the slender wooden 
 cross, and below it a dark blurred mass.
 
 MMBM 
 
 
 Staring after me across her body.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 ST. MARTIN'S EVE. 
 
 IT was late evening on the last day but one 
 of November, when I rode into Paris through 
 the Orleans gate. The wind was in the north- 
 east, and a great cloud of vapour hung in the 
 eye of an angry sunset. The air seemed to be 
 full of wood smoke, the kennels reeked, my 
 gorge rose at the city's smell ; and with all my 
 heart I envied the man who had gone out of it 
 by the same gate nearly two months before, with 
 his face to the south, and the prospect of riding 
 day after day across heath and moor and pasture. 
 At least he had had some weeks of life before 
 him, and freedom, and the open air, and hope and 
 uncertainty, while I came back under doom ; and 
 in the pall of smoke that hung over the huddle 
 of innumerable roofs, saw a gloomy shadowing 
 of my own fate. 
 
 3"
 
 312 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 For make no mistake. A man in middle life 
 does not strip himself of the worldly habit with 
 which experience has clothed him, does not run 
 counter to all the cynical saws and instances by 
 which he has governed his course so long, with- 
 out shiverings and doubts and horrible misgiv- 
 ings and struggles of heart. At least a dozen 
 times between the Loire and Paris, I asked my- 
 self what honour was; and what good it would 
 do me when I lay rotting and forgotten ; if I 
 was not a fool following a Jack-o'-lanthorn ; and 
 whether, of all the men in the world, the relent- 
 less man to whom I was returning, would not be 
 the first to gibe at my folly. 
 
 However, shame kept me straight; shame and 
 the memory of Mademoiselle's looks and words. 
 I dared not be false to her again ; I could not, 
 after speaking so loftily, fall so low. And there- 
 fore though not without many a secret struggle 
 and quaking I came, on this last evening but 
 one of November, to the Orleans gate, and rode 
 slowly and sadly through the streets by the Lux- 
 embourg, on my way to the Pont au Change. 
 
 The struggle had sapped my last strength,
 
 ST. MARTINIS EVE. 313 
 
 however; and with the first whiff of the gutters, 
 the first rush of barefooted gamins under my 
 horse's hoofs, the first babel of street cries, the 
 first breath, in a word, of Paris, there came a 
 new temptation to go for one last night to 
 Zaton's to se.e the tables again and the faces of 
 surprise ; to be, for an hour or two, the old Berault. 
 That could be no breach of honour; for in any 
 case I could not reach the Cardinal before to- 
 morrow. And it could do no harm. It could 
 make no change in anything. It would not have 
 been a thing worth struggling about only I 
 had in my inmost heart suspicions that the stout- 
 est resolutions might lose their force in that 
 atmosphere ; that even such a talisman as the 
 memory of a woman's looks and words might 
 lose its virtue there. 
 
 Still I think I should have succumbed in the 
 end, if I had not received at the corner of the 
 Luxembourg a shock which sobered me effec- 
 tually. As I passed the gates, a coach followed 
 by two outriders swept out of the palace court- 
 yard ; it was going at a great pace, and I reined 
 my jaded horse on one side to give it room. As
 
 3 14 UNDER THE RED ROBE, 
 
 it whirled by me, one of the leather curtains 
 flapped back, and I saw for a second, by the 
 waning light, the nearer wheels were no more 
 than two feet from my boot, a face inside. 
 
 A face, and no more, and that only for a sec- 
 ond! But it froze me. It was Richelieu's, the 
 Cardinal's ; but not as I had been wont to see it, 
 keen, cold, acute, with intellect and indomitable 
 will in every feature. This face was distorted 
 with rage and impatience ; with the fever of haste 
 and the fear of death. The eyes burned under 
 the pale brow, the mustachios bristled, the teeth 
 showed through the beard; I could fancy the 
 man crying "Faster! Faster!" and gnawing 
 his nails in the impatience of passion ; and I 
 shrank back as if I had been struck. The next 
 moment the galloping outriders splashed me, the 
 coach was a hundred paces ahead, and I was 
 left chilled and wondering, foreseeing the worst, 
 and no longer in any mood for the gaming-table. 
 
 Such a revelation of such a man was enough to 
 appall me. Conscience cried out that he must have 
 heard that Cocheforet had escaped, and through 
 me ! But I dismissed the idea as soon as formed.
 
 ST. MARTINIS EVE. 315 
 
 In the vast meshes of the Cardinal's schemes, 
 Cocheforet could be only a small fish ; and to 
 account for the face in the coach I needed a 
 cataclysm, a catastrophe, a misfortune, as far 
 above ordinary mishaps, as this man's intellect 
 rose above the common run of minds. 
 
 It was almost dark when I crossed the bridges, 
 and crept despondently to the Rue Savonnerie. 
 After stabling my horse, I took my bag and 
 holsters, and climbing the stairs to my old land- 
 lord's, the place seemed to have grown strangely 
 mean and small and ill-smelling in my absence, 
 I knocked at the door. It was opened by the 
 little tailor himself, who threw up his arms at 
 the sight of me. " By St. Genevieve ! " he said. 
 " If it is not M. de Berault ! " 
 
 " No other," I said. It touched me a little, 
 after my lonely journey, to find him so glad to 
 see me though I had never done him a greater 
 benefit than sometimes to unbend with him and 
 borrow his money. "You look surprised, little 
 man ! " I continued, as he made way for me to 
 enter. " I'll be sworn you have been pawning 
 my goods and letting my room, you knave ! "
 
 316 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 " Never, your excellency ! " he answered, beam- 
 ing on me. " On the contrary, I have been 
 expecting you." 
 
 " How ? " I said. " To-day ? " 
 
 " To-day or to-morrow," he answered, following 
 me in and closing the door. "The first thing I 
 said, when I heard the news this morning, was, 
 Now we shall have M. de Berault back again. 
 Your excellency will pardon the children," he 
 continued, as I took the old seat on the three- 
 legged stool before the hearth. " The night is 
 cold, and there is no fire in your room." 
 
 While he ran to and fro with my cloak and 
 bags, little Gil, to whom I had stood at St. Sul- 
 pice's borrowing ten crowns the same day, I 
 remember came shyly to play with my sword- 
 hilt. " So you expected me back when you heard 
 the news, Frison, did you?" I said, taking the 
 lad on my knee. 
 
 "To be sure, your excellency," he answered, 
 peeping into the black pot before he lifted it to 
 the hook. 
 
 " Very good. Then, now, let us hear what the 
 news was," I said drily.
 
 ST. MARTINIS EVE. 3 '7 
 
 " Of the Cardinal, M. de Berault." 
 
 " Ah ? And what ? " 
 
 He looked at me, holding the heavy pot sus- 
 pended in his hands. " You have not heard ? " 
 he exclaimed, his jaw falling. 
 
 " Not a tittle. Tell it me, my good fellow." 
 
 "You have not heard that His Eminence is 
 disgraced ? " 
 
 I stared at him. "Not a word," I said. 
 
 He set down the pot. " Your excellency must 
 have made a very long journey indeed, then," he 
 said, with conviction. " For it has been in the air 
 a week or more, and I thought it had brought you 
 back. A week ? A month, I dare say. They 
 whisper that it is the old Queen's doing. At any 
 rate, it is certain that they have cancelled his 
 commissions and displaced his officers. There 
 are rumours of immediate peace with Spain. His 
 enemies are lifting up their heads, and I hear 
 that he has relays of horses set all the way to the 
 coast, that he may fly at any moment. For what 
 I know he may be gone already." 
 
 " But, man," I said " the King ! You forget 
 the King. Let the Cardinal once pipe to him, and
 
 318 UNDER THE RED ROBE, 
 
 he will dance. And they will dance, too ! " I 
 added grimly. 
 
 " Yes," Prison answered eagerly. " True, your 
 excellency, but the King will not see him. Three 
 times to-day, as I am told, the Cardinal has driven 
 to the Luxembourg, and stood like any common 
 man in the ante-chamber, so that I hear it was 
 pitiful to see him. But His Majesty would not 
 admit him. And when he went away the last 
 time, I am told that his face was like death ! 
 Well, he was a great man, and we may be worse 
 ruled, M. de Berault, saving your presence. If 
 the nobles did not like him, he was good to the 
 traders, and the boiirgeoisie, and equal to all." 
 
 " Silence, man ! Silence, and let me think," I 
 said, much excited. And while he bustled to and 
 fro, getting my supper, and the firelight played 
 about the snug, sorry little room, and the child 
 toyed with his plaything, I fell to digesting this 
 great news, and pondering how I stood now and 
 what I ought to do. At first sight, I know, it 
 seemed that I had nothing to do but sit still. In 
 a few hours the man who held my bond would be 
 powerless, and I should be free. In a few hours
 
 ST. MARTINIS EVE. 319 
 
 I might smile at him. To all appearance, the 
 dice had fallen well for me. I had done a great 
 thing, run a great risk, won a woman's love, and 
 after all was not to pay the penalty ! 
 
 But a word which fell from Frison as he flut- 
 tered round me, pouring out the broth, and cutting 
 the bread, dropped into my mind and spoiled my 
 satisfaction. "Yes, your excellency," he ex- 
 claimed, confirming something he had said before, 
 and which I had missed, " and I am told that the 
 last time he came into the gallery, there was not 
 a man of all the scores who attended his levee 
 last Monday would speak to him. They fell off 
 like rats, just like rats, until he was left standing 
 all alone. And I have seen him ! " Frison lifted 
 up his eyes and his hands and drew in his breath. 
 "Ah, I have seen the King look shabby beside 
 him ! And his eye ! I would not like to meet it 
 now." 
 
 " Pish ! " I growled. " Some one has fooled 
 you. Men are wiser than that." 
 
 " So ? Well, your excellency understands. But 
 there are no cats on a cold hearth." 
 
 I told him again that he was a fool. But withal
 
 320 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 I felt uncomfortable. This was a great man 
 if ever a great man lived, and they were all leav- 
 ing him ; and I well, I had no cause to love him. 
 But I had taken his money, I had accepted his 
 commission, and I had betrayed him. Those 
 three things being so, if. he fell before I could 
 with the best will in the world set myself right 
 with him, so much the better for me. That was 
 my gain, the fortune of war. But if I lay hid, 
 and took time for my ally, and being here while 
 he stood still, though tottering, waited until he 
 fell, what of my honour then ? What of the 
 grand words I had said to Mademoiselle at Agen ? 
 I should be like the recreant in the old romance, 
 who, lying in the ditch while the battle raged, 
 came out afterwards and boasted of his courage. 
 And yet the flesh was weak. A day, twenty- 
 four hours, two days, might make the difference 
 between life and death. At last I settled what 
 I would do. At noon the next day, the time 
 at which I should have presented myself, if I 
 had not heard this news, at that time I would 
 still present myself. Not earlier ; I owed myself 
 the chance. Not later; that was due to him.
 
 ST. MARTIN'S EVE. 321 
 
 Having so settled it, I thought to rest in 
 peace. But with the first light I was awake; 
 and it was all I could do to keep myself quiet 
 until I heard Prison stirring. I called to him 
 then to know if there was any news, and lay 
 waiting and listening while he went down to the 
 street to learn. It seemed an endless time before 
 he came back; an age, after he came back, 
 before he spoke. 
 
 "Well, he has not set off?" I cried at last, 
 unable to control my eagerness. 
 
 Of course he had not. At nine o'clock I sent 
 Frison out again ; and at ten, and at eleven 
 always with the same result. I was like a man 
 waiting, and looking, and, above all, listening 
 for a reprieve, and as sick as any craven. But 
 when he came back at eleven, I gave up hope, 
 and dressed myself carefully. I suppose I still 
 had an odd look, however; for Frison stopped 
 me at the door and asked me, with evident alarm, 
 whither I was going. 
 
 I put the little man aside gently. "To the 
 tables," I said. "To make a big throw, my 
 friend."
 
 322 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 It was a fine morning; sunny, keen, pleasant. 
 Even the streets smelled fresh. But I scarcely 
 noticed it. All my thoughts were where I was 
 going. It seemed but a step from my threshold 
 to the Hotel Richelieu. I was no sooner gone 
 from the one than I found myself at the other. 
 As on the memorable evening, when I had 
 crossed the street in a drizzling rain, and looked 
 that way with foreboding, there were two or 
 three guards in the Cardinal's livery, loitering 
 before the gates. But this was not all. Coming 
 nearer, I found the opposite pavement under the 
 Louvre thronged with people; not moving about 
 their business, but standing all silent, all look- 
 ing across furtively, all with the air of persons 
 who wished . to be thought passing by. Their 
 silence and their keen looks had in some way 
 an air of menace. Looking back after I had 
 turned in towards the gates, I found them devour- 
 ing me with their eyes. 
 
 Certainly they had little else to look at. In 
 the courtyard, where some mornings when the 
 court was in Paris I had seen a score of coaches 
 waiting and thrice as many servants, were now
 
 ST. MARTIN'S EVE. 
 
 emptiness and sunshine and stillness. The offi- 
 cer, who stood twisting his mustachios, on guard, 
 looked at me in wonder as I passed. The lack- 
 eys lounging in the portico, and all too much 
 taken up with whispering to make a pretence 
 of being of service, grinned at my appearance. 
 But that which happened when I had mounted 
 the stairs, and come to the door of the ante- 
 chamber, outdid all. The man on guard there 
 would have opened the door; but when I went 
 to take advantage of the offer, and enter, a major- 
 domo, who was standing near, muttering with 
 two or three of his kind, hastened forward and 
 stopped me. 
 
 " Your business, Monsieur, if you please ? " 
 he said inquisitively. And I wondered why the 
 others looked at me so strangely. 
 
 " I am M. de Berault," I answered sharply. 
 " I have the entree." 
 
 He bowed politely enough. "Yes, M. de 
 Berault, I have the honour to know your face," 
 he said. " But pardon me. Have you business 
 with His Eminence ? " 
 
 "I have the common business," I answered 
 
 Y 2
 
 324 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 bluntly, " by which many of us live, sirrah ! to 
 wait on him." 
 
 "But by appointment, Monsieur?" he per- 
 sisted. 
 
 " No," I said, astonished. " It is the usual 
 hour. For the matter of that, however, I have 
 business with him." 
 
 The man looked at me for a moment, in 
 apparent embarrassment. Then he stood reluct- 
 antly aside, and signed to the door-keeper to 
 open the door. I passed in, uncovering, with an 
 assured face, ready to meet all eyes. Then in a 
 moment, on the threshold, the mystery was 
 explained. 
 
 The room was empty.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 ST. MARTIN'S SUMMER. 
 
 YES, at the great Cardinal's lev/e I was the 
 only client. I stared round the room, a long 
 narrow gallery, through which it was his custom 
 to walk every morning, after receiving his more 
 important visitors. I stared, I say, round this 
 room, in a state of stupefaction. The seats 
 against either wall were empty, the recesses of 
 the windows empty too. The hat, sculptured 
 and painted here and there, the staring R, the 
 blazoned arms, looked down on a vacant floor. 
 Only, on a little stool by the main door, sat a 
 quiet-faced man in black, who read, or pretended 
 to read, in a little book, and never looked up. 
 One of those men, blind, deaf, secretive, who fatten 
 in the shadow of the great. 
 
 At length, while I stood confounded and full 
 of shamed thought, for I had seen the ante- 
 
 325
 
 326 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 chamber of Richelieu's old hotel so crowded that 
 he could not walk through it, this man closed 
 his book, rose, and came noiselessly towards me. 
 "M. de Berault?" he said. 
 
 "Yes," I answered. 
 
 " His Eminence awaits you. Be good enough 
 to follow me." 
 
 I did so, in a deeper stupor than before. For 
 how could the Cardinal know that I was here ? 
 How could he have known when he gave the 
 order ? But I had short time to think of these 
 things. We passed through two rooms, in one 
 of which some secretaries were writing; we 
 stopped at a third door. Over all brooded a 
 silence which could be felt. The usher knocked, 
 opened, and with his finger on his lip, pushed 
 aside a curtain, and signed to me to enter. I did 
 so, and found myself standing behind a screen. 
 "Is that M. de Berault?" asked a thin, high- 
 pitched voice. 
 
 "Yes, Monseigneur," I answered, trembling. 
 
 "Then come, my friend, and talk to me." 
 
 I went round the screen ; and I know not how 
 it was, the watching crowd outside, the vacant
 
 ST. MARTINIS SUMMER. 327 
 
 antechamber in which I had stood, the stillness, 
 all seemed concentrated here, and gave to the 
 man I saw before me, a dignity which he had 
 never possessed for me when the world passed 
 through his doors, and the proudest fawned on 
 him for a smile. He sat in a great chair on the 
 farther side of the hearth, a little red skull-cap on 
 his head, his fine hands lying motionless in his lap. 
 The collar of lawn which fell over his red cape 
 was quite plain, but the skirts of his red robe 
 were covered with rich lace, and the order of the 
 Holy Ghost shone on his breast. Among the 
 multitudinous papers on the great table near him 
 I saw a sword and pistols lying ; and some tapes- 
 try that covered a little table behind him failed 
 to hide a pair of spurred riding-boots. But he 
 in spite of these signs of trouble looked 
 towards me as I advanced, with a face mild and 
 almost benign ; a face in which I strove in vain 
 to find traces of last night's passion. So that it 
 flashed across me that if this man really stood 
 and afterwards I knew he did on the thin 
 razor-edge between life and death, between the 
 supreme of earthly power, lord of France, and
 
 328 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 arbiter of Europe, and the nothingness of the 
 clod, he justified his fame. He gave weaker 
 natures no room for triumph. 
 
 The thought was no sooner entertained than 
 it was gone. "And so you are back at last, 
 M. de Berault?" he said, gently. "I have been 
 expecting to see you since nine this morning." 
 
 "Your Eminence knew then " I muttered. 
 
 "That you returned to Paris by the Orleans 
 gate last evening, alone ? " He fitted together 
 the ends of his fingers, and looked at me over 
 them with inscrutable eyes. "Yes, I knew all 
 that last night. And now of your mission ? You 
 have been faithful, and diligent, I am sure. 
 Where is he?" 
 
 I stared at him, and was dumb. Somehow the 
 strange things I had seen since I left my lodg- 
 ing, the surprises I had found awaiting me here, 
 had driven my own fortunes, my own peril, out 
 of my head, until this moment. Now, at his 
 question, all returned with a rush. My heart 
 heaved suddenly in my breast. I strove for a 
 savour of the old hardihood ; but for the moment 
 I could not find a word.
 
 . ST. MARTINIS SUMMER. 329 
 
 "Well?" he said lightly, a faint smile lifting 
 his mustache. " You do not speak. You left 
 Auch with him on the twenty-fourth, M. de 
 Berault. So much I know. And you reached 
 Paris without him last night. He has not given 
 you the slip ? " with sudden animation. 
 
 "No, Monseigneur," I muttered. 
 
 "Ha! That is good," he answered, sinking 
 back again in his chair. " For the moment 
 but I knew I could depend on you. And now 
 where is he ? " he continued. " What have you 
 done with him ? He knows much, and the sooner 
 I know it, the better. Are your people bringing 
 him, M. de Berault?" 
 
 " No, Monseigneur," I stammered, with dry 
 lips. His very good humour, his benignity, 
 appalled me. I knew how terrible would be the 
 change, how fearful his rage, when I should tell 
 him the truth. And yet that I, Gil de Berault, 
 should tremble before any man ! I spurred my- 
 self, as it were, to the task. "No, Your Emi- 
 nence," I said, with the courage of despair. "I 
 have not brought him, because I have set him 
 free."
 
 330 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 "Because you have what?" he exclaimed. 
 He leaned forward, his hands on the arm of his 
 chair; and his glittering eyes, growing each 
 instant smaller, seemed to read my soul. 
 
 " Because I have let him go," I repeated. 
 
 " And why ? " he said, in a voice like the 
 rasping of a file. 
 
 "Because I took him unfairly," I answered 
 desperately. " Because, Monseigneur, I am a 
 gentleman, and this task should have been given 
 to one who was not. I took him, if you must 
 know," I continued impatiently, the fence once 
 crossed, I was growing bolder, " by dogging a 
 woman's steps, and winning her confidence, and 
 betraying it. And, whatever I have done ill in 
 my life, of which you were good enough to 
 throw something in my teeth when I was last 
 here, I have never done that, and I will not!" 
 
 " And so you set him free ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " After you had brought him to Auch ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And in point of fact saved him from falling 
 into the hands of the commandant at Auch ? "
 
 ST. MARTIN'S SUMMER. 331 
 
 "Yes," I answered desperately. 
 
 " Then what of the trust I placed in you, 
 sirrah ? " he rejoined, in a terrible voice ; and 
 stooping still farther forward, he probed me 
 with his eyes. "You who prate of trust and 
 confidence, who received your life on parole, 
 and but for your promise to me would have been 
 carrion this month past, answer me that ! What 
 of the trust I placed in you ? " 
 
 " The answer is simple," I said, shrugging my 
 shoulders with a touch of my old self. " I am 
 here to pay the penalty." 
 
 " And do you think that I do not know why ? " 
 he retorted, striking his one hand on the arm 
 of the chair with a force which startled me. 
 " Because you have heard, Sir, that my power 
 is gone ! That I, who was yesterday the King's 
 right hand, am to-day dried up, withered, and 
 paralyzed ! Because but have a care ! Have 
 a care ! " he continued not loudly, but in a voice 
 like a dog's snarl. " You, and those others ! 
 Have a care I say, or you may find yourselves 
 mistaken yet ! " 
 
 " As Heaven shall judge me," I answered
 
 332 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 solemnly, "that is not true. Until I reached 
 Paris last night I knew nothing of this report. 
 I came here with a single mind, to redeem my 
 honour by placing again in Your Eminence's 
 hands that which you gave me on trust." 
 
 For a moment he remained in the same atti- 
 tude, staring at me fixedly. Then his face some- 
 what relaxed. " Be good enough to ring that 
 bell," he said. 
 
 It stood on a table near me. I rang it, and 
 a velvet-footed man in black came in, and gliding 
 up to the Cardinal placed a paper in his hand. 
 The Cardinal looked at it while the man stood 
 with his head obsequiously bent; my heart beat 
 furiously. "Very good," the Cardinal said, after 
 a pause, which seemed to me to be endless. 
 " Let the doors be thrown open." 
 
 The man bowed low, and retired behind the 
 screen. I heard a little bell ring, somewhere in 
 the silence, and in a moment the Cardinal stood 
 up. " Follow me ! " he said, with a strange flash 
 of his keen eyes. 
 
 Astonished, I stood aside while he passed to 
 the screen; then I followed him. Outside the
 
 ST. MARTINIS SUMMER. 333 
 
 first door, which stood open, we found eight 
 or nine persons, pages, a monk, the major-domo, 
 and several guards waiting like mutes. These 
 signed to me to precede them, and fell in behind 
 us, and in that order we passed through the first 
 room and the second, where the clerks stood 
 with bent heads to receive us. The last door, 
 the door of the antechamber, flew open as we 
 approached ; a score of voices cried, " Place ! 
 Place for His Eminence ! " We passed without 
 pause through two lines of bowing lackeys, and 
 entered an empty room ! 
 
 The ushers did not know how to look at one 
 another. The lackeys trembled in their shoes. 
 But the Cardinal walked on, apparently unmoved, 
 until he had passed slowly half the length of 
 the chamber. Then he turned himself about, 
 looking first to one side, and then to another, 
 with a low laugh of derision. " Father," he said, 
 in his thin voice, " what does the psalmist say ? 
 ' I am become like a pelican in the wilderness, 
 and like an owl that is in the desert ! ' " 
 
 The monk mumbled assent. 
 
 "And later, in the same psalm is it not writ-
 
 334 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 ten, ' They shall perish, but thou shalt en- 
 dure ! ' " 
 
 "It is so," the father answered. "Amen." 
 
 " Doubtless that refers to anothec life," the 
 Cardinal continued, with his slow, wintry smile. 
 " In the meantime we will go back to our books 
 and our prayers, and serve God and the King 
 in small things, if not in great. Come, father, 
 this is no longer a place for us. Vanitas vani- 
 tattim ; omnia vanitas ! We will retire." 
 
 So, as solemnly as we had come, we marched 
 back through the first and second and third 
 doors, until we stood again in the silence of the 
 Cardinal's chamber; he and I and the velvet- 
 footed man in black. For a while Richelieu 
 seemed to forget me. He stood brooding on 
 the hearth, with his eyes on the embers. Once 
 I heard him laugh; and twice he uttered in a 
 tone of bitter mockery, the words, " Fools ! 
 Fools! Fools!" 
 
 At last he looked up, saw me, and started. 
 "Ah!" he said. "I had forgotten you. Well, 
 you are fortunate, M. de Berault. Yesterday 
 I had a hundred clients. To-day I have only
 
 ST. MARTINIS SUMMER. 335 
 
 one, and I cannot afford to hang him. But for 
 your liberty that is another matter." 
 
 I would have said something, but he turned 
 abruptly to the table, and sitting down wrote a 
 few lines on a piece of paper. Then he rang 
 his bell, while I stood waiting and confounded. 
 
 The man in black came from behind the screen. 
 "Take that letter and this gentleman to the 
 upper guard-room," His Eminence said sharply. 
 " I can hear no more," he continued wearily, 
 raising his hand to forbid interruption. "The 
 matter is ended, M. de Berault. Be thankful." 
 
 And in a moment I was outside the door, my 
 head in a whirl, my heart divided between grati- 
 tude and resentment. Along several passages 
 I followed my guide ; everywhere finding the 
 same silence, the same monastic stillness. At 
 length, when I had begun to consider whether 
 the Bastile or the Chatelet would be my fate, 
 he stopped at a door, gave me the letter, and, 
 lifting the latch, signed to me to enter. 
 
 I went in in amazement, and stopped in con- 
 fusion. Before me, alone, just risen from a 
 chair, with her face one moment pale, the next
 
 336 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 red with blushes, stood Mademoiselle de Coche- 
 foret. I cried out her name. 
 
 " M. de Berault ! " she said, visibly trembling. 
 "You did not expect to see me?" 
 
 " I expected to see no one so little, Made- 
 moiselle," I answered, striving to recover my 
 composure. 
 
 "Yet you might have thought that we should 
 not utterly desert you," she replied, with a 
 reproachful humility which went to my heart. 
 "We should have been base indeed, if we had 
 not made some attempt to save you. I thank 
 Heaven that it has so far succeeded that that 
 strange man has promised me your life. You 
 have seen him ? " she continued eagerly, and in 
 another tone, while her eyes grew suddenly large 
 with fear. 
 
 " Yes, Mademoiselle, I have seen him," I said. 
 "And he has given me my life." 
 
 "And?" 
 
 "And sent me to imprisonment." 
 
 " For how long ? " she whispered. 
 
 " I do not know," I answered. " I expect, dur- 
 ing the King's pleasure."
 
 ST. MARTINIS SUMMER. 337 
 
 She shuddered. " I may have done more harm 
 than good," she murmured, looking at me pite- 
 ously. " But I did it for the best. I told him 
 all, and yes, perhaps I did harm." 
 
 But to hear her accuse herself thus, when she 
 had made this long and lonely journey to save 
 me ; when she had forced herself into her enemy's 
 presence, and had, as I was sure she had, abased 
 herself for me, was more than I could bear. 
 " Hush, Mademoiselle, hush ! " I said, almost 
 roughly. "You hurt me. You have made me 
 happy : and yet I wish that you were not here, 
 where I fear you have few friends, but back 
 at Cocheforet. You have done more than I 
 expected, and a hundred times more than I de- 
 served. But I was a ruined man before this 
 happened. I am no more now, but I am still 
 that; and I would not have your name pinned 
 to mine on Paris lips. Therefore, good-bye. God 
 forbid I should say more to you, or let you stay 
 where foul tongues would soon malign you." 
 
 She looked at me in a kind of wonder; then 
 with a growing smile, " It is too late," she said 
 gently.
 
 338 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 " Too late ? " I exclaimed. " How, Mademoi- 
 selle ? " 
 
 "Because do you remember, M. de Berault, 
 what you told me of your love story, by Agen ? 
 That it could have no happy ending? For the 
 same reason I was not ashamed to tell mine to the 
 Cardinal. By this time it is common property." 
 
 I looked at her as she stood facing me. Her 
 eyes shone, but they were downcast. Her figure 
 drooped, and yet a smile trembled on her lips. 
 "What did you tell him, Mademoiselle?" I 
 whispered, my breath coming quickly. 
 
 "That I loved," she answered boldly, raising 
 her clear eyes to mine. " And therefore that I 
 was not ashamed to beg, even on my knees. Nor 
 ashamed to be with my lover, even in prison." 
 
 I fell on my knees, and caught her hand before 
 the last word passed her lips. For the moment 
 I forgot King and Cardinal, prison and the future, 
 all all except that this woman, so pure and 
 so beautiful, so far above me in all things, loved 
 me. For the moment, I say. Then I remem- 
 bered myself. I stood up and thrust her from 
 me, in a sudden revulsion of feeling. "You do
 
 ST. MARTINIS SUMMER, 339 
 
 not know me," I said. " You do not know me. 
 You do not know what I have done." 
 
 " That is what I do know," she answered, look- 
 ing at me with a wondrous smile. 
 
 "Ah, but you do not," I cried. "And besides, 
 there is this this between us." And I picked 
 up the Cardinal's letter. It had fallen on the 
 floor. 
 
 She turned a shade paler. Then she said, 
 " Open it ! Open it ! It is not sealed, nor 
 closed." 
 
 I obeyed mechanically, dreading what I might 
 see. Even when I had it open I looked at the 
 finely scrawled characters with eyes askance. But 
 at last I made it out. It ran thus : 
 
 "The King's pleasure is, that M. de Berault, having mixed 
 himself up with affairs of state, retire forthwith to the manor 
 of Cocheforet, and confine himself within its limits, until 
 
 the King's pleasure be further known. 
 
 " RICHELIEU." 
 
 On the next day we were married. The same 
 evening we left Paris, and I retraced, in her com- 
 pany, the road which I had twice traversed alone 
 
 and in heaviness. 
 
 z 2
 
 340 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 A fortnight later we were at Cocheforet, in the 
 brown woods under the southern mountains ; and 
 the great Cardinal, once more triumphant over 
 his enemies, saw, with cold, smiling eyes, the 
 world pass through his chamber. The flood-tide, 
 which then set in, lasted thirteen years ; in brief, 
 until his death. For the world had learned its 
 lesson, and was not to be deceived a second time. 
 To this hour they call that day, which saw me 
 stand for all his friends, "The day of Dupes." 
 
 THE END.
 
 A List of Recent Fiction 
 
 Published by t 4- t 4- * 4- 
 
 Longmans, Green, & Co., 
 
 15 East i6th Street t New York. 
 
 By Stanley J. Weymati. 
 
 A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE. Illustrated. i2mo, cloth, $1.25. 
 
 THE HOUSE OF THE WOLF. A Romance. Illustrated. 
 I2mo, cloth, $1.25. 
 
 UNDER THE RED ROBE. With 12 full-page Illustrations. 
 i2mo, cloth, $1.25. 
 
 Mv LADY ROTH A. A Romance. With 8 full-page Illus- 
 trations. I2mo, cloth, $1.25. 
 
 By H. Rider Haggard. 
 
 THE PEOPLE OF THE MIST. Illustrated. 12010, cloth, 
 
 $1.25- 
 By A. Conan Doyle. 
 
 MICAH CLARKE. Author's Edition. Illustrated. i2mo, 
 
 cloth, $1.25. 
 
 THE CAPTAIN OF THE POLESTAR, and Other Tales. Illus- 
 . trated. I2ino, cloth, $1.25. 
 
 By Mrs. Parr. 
 
 CAN THIS BE LOVE? Illustrated. I2mo, cloth, $1.25. 
 
 By Edna Lyall. 
 
 DOREEN. The Story of a Singer. I2mo, cloth. $1.50. 
 THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A SLANDER. Illustrated. i2mo, 
 cloth, $1.50. 
 
 By Mrs. Walford. 
 
 THE MATCHMAKER. i2mo, cloth, $1.50. 
 
 LONGMANS' PAPER LIBRARY. 
 
 Issued Quarterly at 50 cents each. 
 
 No. i. NADA THE LILY. By H. RIDER HAGGARD. Copyright 
 Edition. With all the original Illustrations. 
 
 No. 2. THE ONE GOOD GUEST. By Mrs. L. B. WALFORD. 
 
 No. 3. KEITH DERAMORE. By the Author of " Miss Molly." 
 
 No. 4. A FAMILY TREE, and Other Stories. By BRANDEK 
 MATTHEWS. 
 
 .No. 5. A MORAL DILEMMA. By ANNIE THOMPSON. 
 
 No. 6. GERALD FFRENCH'S FRIENDS. By GEORGE H. 
 
 JjESSOP. 
 
 No. 7. SWEETHEART GWEN. By WILLIAM TIREBUCK.
 
 LONGMANS' DOLLAR NOVELS. 
 
 By H. Rider Haggard. 
 
 MONTEZUMA'S DAUGHTER. Illustrated. 1 2mo, cloth, $1.00. 
 NADA THE LILY. Illustrated. i2mo, cloth, $1.00. 
 
 By Miss L. Dougall. 
 
 WHAT NECESSITY KNOWS. A Novel. i2mo, cloth, $1.00. 
 BEGGARS ALL. A Novel. i2mo, cloth, $1.00. 
 
 By E. W. Hornung. 
 
 THE UNBIDDEN GUEST. An Australian Story. i2mo, 
 cloth, $1.00. 
 
 By Francis Forster. 
 
 MAJOR JOSHUA. A Novel. i2mo, cloth, $1.00. 
 
 By John Trafford Clegg. 
 
 DAVID'S LOOM. A Story of Rochdale Life in the Early 
 Years of the Nineteenth Century. I2mo, cloth, $1.00. 
 
 By Mrs. L. B. Walford. 
 
 THE ONE GOOD GUEST. i2mo, cloth, $1.00. 
 
 ' PLOUGHED,' and Other Stories. i2mo, cloth, $1.00. 
 
 By May Kendall. 
 
 SUCH is LIFE. A Novel. I2mo, cloth, $1.00. 
 
 By William Tirebuck. 
 
 SWEETHEART GWEN. A Welsh Idyl. i2tno, cloth, $1.00. 
 
 By the Author of " Miss Molly." 
 
 KEITH DERAMORE. i2mo, cloth, $1.00. 
 
 By Annie Thompson. 
 
 A MORAL DILEMMA. i2mo, cloth, $1.00. 
 
 By Julian Sturgis. 
 
 AFTER TWENTY YEARS, and Other Stories. i2mo, cloth, 
 $1.00. 
 
 By C. J. Cutliffe Hyne. 
 
 THE NEW EDEN. Illustrated. i2mo, cloth, $1.00.
 
 MY LADY ROTHA. 
 
 A ROMANCE OF THE THIRTY YEARS' WAR. 
 BY STANLEY J. WEYMAN. 
 
 AUTHOR OF "A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE," " UNDER THE RED ROBE," 
 "THE HOUSE OF THE WOLF." 
 
 With Eight Illustrations. Crown 8vo, $1.25. 
 
 " Few writers of fiction who have appeared in England in the last decade have given 
 their readers more satisfaction than Mr. Stanley J. Weyman, and no single writer of this 
 number can be said to have approached him, much less to have equaled him in the romantic 
 world of the historical novel ... he has the art of story-telling in the highest degree, 
 the art which instinctively divines the secret, the soul of the story which he tells, and the 
 rarer art, if it be not the artlessness, which makes it as real and as inevitable as life itself. 
 His characters are alive, human, unforgetable, resembling in this respect those of Thackeray 
 in historical lines and in a measure those of Dumas, with whom, and not inaptly, Mr. Wey- 
 man has been compared. His literature is good, so good that we accept it as a matter of 
 course, as we do that of Thackeray and Scott. . . . Mr. Weyman's historical novels 
 will live." NEW YORK MAIL AND EXPRESS. 
 
 "... differs signally from Mr. Weyman's earlier published works. It is treated 
 with the minuteness and lovingness of a first story which has grown up in the mind of the 
 author for years. . . . Marie Wort is one of the bravest souls that ever moved quietly 
 along the pages of a novel. She is so unlike the other feminine characters whom Weyman 
 has drawn that the difference is striking and adds significance to this one book. . . . 
 ' My Lady Rotha ' is full of fascinating interest, all the more remarkable in a work adhering* 
 so strictly to historical truth." EVENING POST, CHICAGO. 
 
 "This last book of his is brimful of action, rushing forward with a roar, leaving tht 
 reader breathless at the close ; for if once begun there is no stopping place. The concep- 
 tion is unique and striking, and the culmination unexpected. The author is so saturated 
 with the spirit of the times of which he writes, that he merges his personality in that of the 
 supposititious narrator, and the virtues and failings of his men and w^men are set forth in a 
 fashion which is captivating from its very simplicity. It is one of his best novels." 
 
 PUBLIC OPINION, 
 
 "Readers of Mr. Weyman's novels will have no hesitation in pronouncing his just pub- 
 lished ' My Lady Rotha ' in every way his greatest and most artistic production. We 
 know of nothing mote fit, both in conception and execution, to be classed with the immortal 
 Waverleys than this his latest work. ... A story true to life and true to the times 
 which Mr. Weyman has made such a careful study." THE ADVERTISER. BOSTON. 
 
 " No one of Mr. Weyman's books is better than ' My Lady Rotha ' unless it be ' Under 
 the Red Robe,' and those who have learned to like his stories of the old days when might 
 made right will cppreciate it thoroughly. It is a good book to read and read again." 
 
 NEW YORK WORLD. 
 
 "... As good a tale of adventure as any one need ask ; the picture of those war- 
 like times it an excellent one, full of life and color, the blare of trumpets and the flash of 
 steel and toward the close the description of the besieged city of Nuremberg and of the 
 battle under Wallenstein's entrenchments is masterly.' 1 BOSTON TRAVELLER. 
 
 "The loveliest and most admirable character in the story is that of a young Catholic girl, 
 while in painting the cruelties and savage barbarities of war at that period the brush is held 
 by an impartial hand. Books of adventure and romance are apt to be cheap and sensational. 1 
 Mr. Weyman's stories are worth tons of such stuff. They are thrilling, exciting, absorbing, 
 interesting, and yet clear, strong, and healthy in tone, written by a gentleman and a man of 
 sense and taste." SACRED HEART REVIEW, BOSTON. 
 
 " Mr. Wryman has outdone himself in this remarkable book. . . . The whole story 
 is told with consummate skill. The plot is artistically devised and enrolled before the read- 
 er's eyes. The language is simple and apt, and the descriptions are graphic and terse. The 
 charm of the story takes hold of the reader on the very first page, and holds him spell-bound 
 to the very end." NEW ORLEANS PICAYUNE. 
 
 LONGMANS, GEEEN, & CO., 15 EAST 16th STREET, NEW YOKE.
 
 UNDER THE RED ROBE. 
 
 A ROMANCE. 
 
 BY STANLEY J. WEYMAN, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE," "THE HOUSE OF THE WOLF," ETC. 
 
 With 12 Full-page Illustrations by R. Caton Woodville. 
 1 2mo, Linen Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25. 
 
 a story tluit one cannot plaimy see me enu ui iium simpler i. me story reveals 
 
 a knowledge of French character and French landscape that was surely never ac- 
 quired at second hand. The beginning is wonderfully interesting." NEW YORK TIMES. 
 
 " As perfect a novel of the new school of fiction as ' Ivanhoe ' or ' Henry Esmond ' 
 was of theirs. Each later story has shown a marked advance in strength and treat- 
 ment, and in the last Mr. Weyman . . . demonstrates that he has no superior 
 among living novelists. . . . There are but two characters in the story his art 
 makes all other but unnoticed shadows cast by them and the attention is so keenly 
 fixed upon one or both, from the first word to the last, that we live in their thoughts 
 and see the drama unfolded through their eyes." N. Y. WORLD. 
 
 " It was bold to take Richelieu and his time as a subject and thus to challenge com- 
 parison with Dumas's immortal musketeers; but the result justifies the boldness. . . . 
 The plot is admirably clear and strong, the diction singularly concise and telling, and 
 the stirring events are so managed as not to degenerate into sensationalism. Few 
 better novels of adventure than this have ever been written." OUTLOOK, NEW YORK. 
 
 " A wonderfully brilliant and thrilling romance. . . . Mr. Weyman has a positive 
 talent for concise dramatic narration. Every phrase tells, and the characters stano 
 out with life-like distinctness. Some of the most fascinating epochs in French history 
 have been splendidly illuminated by his novels, which are to be reckoned among the 
 notable successes of later nineteenth-century fiction. This story of' Under the Red 
 Robe ' is in its way one of the very best things he has done. It is illustrated with 
 vigor and appropriateness from twelve full-page designs by R. Caton Woodville." 
 
 BOSTON BEACON. 
 
 " It is a skillfully drawn picture of the times, drawn in simple and transparent 
 English, and quivering with tense human feeling from the first word to the last. It is 
 not a book that can be laid down at the middle of it. The reader once caught in its 
 whirl can no more escape from it than a ship from the maelstrom." 
 
 PICAYUNE, NEW ORLEANS. 
 
 "The 'red robe' refers to Cardinal Richelieu, in whose day the story is laid. 
 The descriptions of his court, his judicial machinations and ministrations, his partial 
 defeat, stand out from the book as vivid as flame against a background of snow. For 
 the rest, the book is clever and interesting, ana overflowing with heroic incident. 
 Stanley Weyman is an author who has apparently come to stay." CHICAGO POST. 
 
 " In this story Mr. Weyman returns to the scene of his ' Gentleman of France,' 
 although his new heroes are of different mould. The book is full of adventure and 
 characterized by a deeper study of character than its predecessor." 
 
 WASHINGTON POST. 
 
 " Mr. Weyman has quite topped his first success. . . . The author artfully 
 ursues the line on which his happy initial venture was laid. We have in Berault, the 
 ero, a more impressive Marsac ; an accomplished duelist, telling the tale of his own 
 adventures, he first repels and finally attracts us. He is at once the tool of Richelieu, 
 and a man of honor. Here is a noteworthy romance, full of thrilling incident set down 
 by a master-hand." PHILADELPHIA PRESS. 
 
 p 
 h 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, & 00., 15 EAST 16th STREET, NEW YORE..
 
 A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE 
 
 Being the Memoirs of Gaston de Bonne, 
 Sieur de Marsac. 
 
 BY STANLEY J. WEYMAN. 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE HOUSE OF THE WOLF," ETC. 
 
 With Frontispiece and Vignette by H. J. Ford. 
 1 2mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25. 
 
 "One of the best novels since 'Lorna Doone.' It will be read and then re-read for the 
 mere pleasure its reading gives. The subtle charm of it is not m merely transporting the 
 nineteenth-century reader to the sixteenth, that he may see life as it was then, but in trans- 
 forming him into a sixteenth-century man, thinking its thoughts, and living its life in perfect 
 touch and sympathy ... it carries the reader out of his present life, giving him a new 
 and totally different existence that rests and refreshes him." N. Y. WORLD. 
 
 " No novelist outside of France has displayed a more definite comprehension of the very 
 essence of mediaeval French life, and no one, certainly, has been able to set forth a depiction 
 of it in colors so vivid and so entirely in consonance with the truth. . . . The characters 
 in the tale are admirably drawn, and the narrative is nothing less than fascinating in its fine 
 flavor of adventure." BEACON, BOSTON. 
 
 " We hardly know whether to call this latest work of Stanley J. Weyman a historical 
 ,omance or a story of adventure. It has all the interesting, fascinating and thrilling charac- 
 teristics of both. The scene is in France, and the time is that fateful eventful one which 
 
 ADVERTISER, BOSTON. 
 
 " A romance after the style of Dumas the elder, and well worthy of being read by those 
 who can enjoy stirring adventures told in true romantic fashion. . . . The great person- 
 ages of the time Henry III. of Valois, Henry IV., Rosny, Rambouillet, Turenne are 
 brought in skillfully, and the tragic and varied history of the time forms a splendid frame in 
 which to set the picture of Marsac's love and courage . . . the troublous days are well 
 described and the interest is genuine and lasting, for up to the very end the author manages 
 effects which impel the reader to go on with renewed curiosity." THE NATION. 
 
 " A genuine and admirable piece of work. . . . The reader will not turn many pages 
 before he finds himself in the grasp of a writer who holds his attention to the very last mo- 
 ment of the story. The spirit of adventure pervades the whole from beginning to end. . . . 
 
 It may be said that the narration is a delightful love story. The interest of the reader 
 is constantly excited by the development of unexpected turns in the relation of the principal 
 lovers. The romance lies against a background of history truly painted. . . . Th< 
 descriptions of the court life of the period and of the factional strifes, divisions, hatreds of th* 
 age, are fine. . . . This story of those times is worthy of a very high place among histori 
 cal novels of recent years." PUBLIC OPINION. 
 
 " Bold, strong, dashing, it is one of the best we have read for many years. We sat down 
 for a cursory perusal, and ended by reading it delightedly through. . . . Mr. Weyman 
 has much of the vigor and rush of incident of Dr. Conan Doyle, and this book ranks worthily 
 beside ' The White Company.' . . . We very cordially recommend this book to the jaded 
 novel reader who cares for manly actions more than for morbid introspection." 
 
 THE CHURCHMAN. 
 
 "The book is not only good literature, it is a 'rattling good story,' instinct with the 
 spirit of true adventure and stirring emotion. Of love and peril, intrigue and fighting, there 
 is plenty, and many scenes could not have been bettered. In all his adventures, and they 
 are many, Marsac acts as befits his epoch and his own modest yet gallant personality. Well' 
 known historical figures emerge in telling fashion under Mr. Weyman's discriminating and 
 fascinating touch." ATHENAEUM. 
 
 "I cannot fancy any reader, old or young, not sharing with doughty Crillon his admiration 
 for M. de Marsac, who, though no swashbuckler, has a sword that leaps from its scabbard at the 
 breath of insult. . . . There are several historical personages in the novel ; there is, of 
 course, a heroine, of great beauty and enterprise; but that true 'Gentleman of France,' 
 M. dc Marsac, with his perseverance and valor, dominates them all." 
 
 Mr. JAMES PAYN in the ILLUSTRATED LONDON NEWS. 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO., 15 EAST 16th STKEET, NEW YOKE,
 
 DOREEN. 
 
 THE STORY OF A SINGER. 
 
 BY EDNA LYALL, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "WE TWO," "DONOVAN," "THE AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF A SLANDE*, 
 "IN THE GOLDEN DAYS," ETC., ETC. 
 
 Crown 8vo, Buckram Cloth, Ornamental, $1.5O. 
 
 "Edna Lyall has evidently made a close study of the Irish question, and she sees 
 Its varying aspects and problems with a desire to do justice to all, while she stands 
 firmly on her own principles. . . . There is much to recommend in Edna Lyall's 
 books, and her admirers are many. The book will be read with interest. . . . It is 
 yet well written and comprehensive, treating of universal principles in a broad way 
 and presenting characters in whom one becomes interested for their own sake." 
 
 LITERARY WORLD, Boston. 
 
 " A plot which has original life and vigor. . . . Altogether a good novel, and if 
 the author has written nothing else she could safely rest her literary reputation on 
 ' Doreen.' " PUBLIC OPINION, N. Y. 
 
 "Edna Lyall's . . . new story . . . is one of her best. It has, naturally, 
 enough of tragedy to make it intensely interesting without being sensational in ar.y 
 offensive sense. The heroine, Doreen, is a delightful character, sturdy, strong, lovable, 
 womanly, and genuinely Irish. Miss Bayly is a conscientious writer, imbued -.r'th 
 deep feeling, a high purpose, and her style is attractive and pure." 
 
 BOSTON DAILY ADVERTISER. 
 
 " The heroine is a most winsome Irish maiden with an exquisite voice, and she 
 comes bravely out of the involved dramatic situation in which she is placed by an early 
 vow." PRESS, Philadelphia. 
 
 " It is a very clever story indeed, and skillfully written. The heroine is a bright 
 and beautiful Irish girl, and a musician." NEW ORLEANS PICAYUNE. 
 
 "A very interesting story and is full of interesting and exciting incidents, and its 
 characters are well drawn and sustained throughout the book. It is tastefully bound, 
 and will doubtless prove popular with this writer's many admirers." 
 
 PORTLAND ADVERTISER. 
 
 "Doreen, the heroine of this latest novel of Edna Lyall, is an Irish girl, gentle, 
 kind, and modest, but brave, resolute, and unflinching when there is a question of 
 those whom she loves, of right or wrong, or of the welfare of the country which she 
 holds dearest of all. . . . The book is thoroughly wholesome, good, and interesting. 
 Miss Lyall writes of Ireland, of Irish ways and feelings, as well as of Catholic beliefs 
 and customs, with knowledge and sympathy. . . . The volume is tastefully bound 
 ... well printed and convenient to handle and to read." 
 
 THE SACRED HEART REVIEW, Boston. 
 
 " The heroine, clever, patriotic, self-denying, is worthy of the name, and the hero 
 is equally excellent. ... An interesting novel, a good picture of a bright, pure- 
 minded, high-hearted heroine." BOSTON PILOT. 
 
 " This is perhaps one of the best of Edna Lyall's clever stories. Doreen is a young 
 Irish girl, who loves her native land, and who is a credit to her race. . . . Inier- 
 woven with the story of her experience and of her love for a young Englishman is an 
 interesting account of the rise and progress of the Home Rule movement. Miss Lyall's 
 book is a charming tale, and will not fail to delight every one who reads it. The girl 
 Doreen is a beautiful character." CATHOLIC NEWS. 
 
 "The time is the present, the scene is laid in Ireland and England, and Doreen^ 
 the heroine, is a charming Irish girl, devoted to her country 1 and her oppressed 
 countrymen. . . . The story is attractively told and a very impartial view of tht 
 Irish question is taken. . . . Doreen is a most attractive character, refreshingly 
 simple and natural, and yet with a decided personality of her own. ... A whole- 
 some, well-written story, and free from any touch of atheism." CHICAGO INTER-OCEAN. 
 
 LONGMANS, GKEEN, & CO., 15 EAST 16th STEEET, NEW YOKE.
 
 THE MATCHMAKER, 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 
 BY MRS. L. B. WALFORD. 
 
 Crown 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.5O. 
 
 " A new novel by the author of ' The Baby's Grandmother ' and ' Mr. Smith ' is always 
 eagerly anticipated by those who enjoy a love story told with a charming freshness of style, 
 with a satirical yet good-natured treatment of human foibles, and with a vivid, witty, and 
 animating use of that sentiment which ' makes the world go round.' . . . ' The Match- 
 maker ' gives a piquant hint of the plot. It will be found one of the most delightful of its 
 author's works, and comes in good time to amuse people worn by summer weather." 
 
 NEW YORK TRIBUNE. 
 
 " We are sure that anything from the pen of L. B. Walford will be interesting and 
 original. There is always enough romance about these novels to keep them from any sign of 
 dullness, and they always include some very uncommon types well worth studying. The 
 Carnoustie family in the present instance is one to keep the reader constantly on the qui 
 vive ... a well-told, entertaining story of interesting people." 
 
 DETROIT FREE PRESS. 
 
 "Sure to find a large circle of refined and intelligent readers. The story is constantly 
 lighted up with touches of humor, and the picture of simple family life and the feminine occu- 
 pations it affords is natural and entertaining." BEACON, BOSTON. 
 
 "... A fresh and interesting picture of life in a Scottish castle, and introduces 
 many characters notable for the faithfulness to nature with which they are drawn. The inci- 
 dents are interesting enough to fix the attention of the reader and to hold it until the closing 
 chapter.'' THE ADVERTISER, PORTLAND. 
 
 " Tells what befell a gay London girl during; her six months' sojourn in the Scotch castle 
 of some old fashioned relatives. . . . The story is a good one, much the best of it being 
 the delineation of the stiff-necked Carnoustie family, and its magisterial dowager and its 
 pathetic and comical old maids." BOSTON TRAVELLER. 
 
 NOVELS BY MRS. L. B. WALFORD. 
 
 In Uniform Binding 1 . Crown 8vo, Cloth, each Volume, $ 1 .OO. 
 
 COUSINS. 
 
 THE BABY'S GRAND- 
 MOTHER. 
 
 PAULINE. DICK NETHERBY. 
 
 NAN. 
 
 THE HISTORY OF A WEEK. 
 
 TROUBLESOME DAUGH- 
 
 MR. SMITH. 
 
 A STIFF-NECKED GEN- 
 ERATION. 
 THE MISCHIEF OF MONICA 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO., 15 EAST 16th STKEET, NEW YOKE.
 
 MONTEZUMA'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 BY H. RIDER HAGGARD, 
 
 AUTHOR OF " SHE," " ALLAN QUATERMA1N," " NADA THE LILY," ETC. 
 
 With 24- full-page Illustrations and Vignette by Maurice 
 Greiffenhagen. Crown 8vo, Cloth, $1.OO. 
 
 " Adventures that stir the reader's blood and, like magic spells, hold his attention with 
 power so strong that only the completion of the novel can satisfy his interest. ... In 
 this novel the motive of revenge is treated with a subtle power . . . this latest production 
 of Mr. Haggard blends with the instruction of the historical novel the charm of a splendid 
 romance.'' PUBLIC OPINION. 
 
 "Mr. Haggard has done nothing better . . . it may well be doubted if he has ever 
 done anything half so good. The tale is one of the good, old-fashioned sort, filled with the 
 elements of romance and adventure, and it moves on from one thrilling situation to another 
 with a celerity and verisimilitude that positively fascinate the reader. . . . The story is- 
 told with astonishing variety of detail, and in its mam lines keeps close to historical truth. 
 The author has evidently written with enthusiasm and entire love of his theme, and the result 
 is a really splendid piece of romantic literature. The illustrations, by Maurice Greiffenhagen, 
 are admirable in spirit and technique." BOSTON BEACON. 
 
 " Has a good deal of the quality that lent such interest to ' King Solomon's Mines ' and 
 'Allan Quatermain.' . . . England, Spain, and the country which is now Mexico afford 
 trie field of the story, and a great number of most romantic and blood-stirring activities occur 
 in each ... a successful story well constructed, full of devious and exciting action, 
 and we believe that it will find a multitude of appreciative readers." SUN, N. Y. 
 
 ' It is a tale of adventur? and romance, with a fine historical setting and with a vivid 
 reproduction of the manners and people of the age. The plot is handled with dexterity and 
 skill, and the reader's interest is always seen. There is, it should also be noted, nothing like 
 vulgar sensationalism in the treatment, and the literary quality is sound throughout. 
 
 Among the very best stories of love, war, and romance that have been written." 
 
 THE OUTLOOK. 
 
 " Is the latest and best of that popular writer's works of fiction. It enters a new 
 field not befure touched by previous tales from the same author. In its splendor of descrip- 
 tion, weirdness of imagery, and wealth of startling incidents it rivals ' King Solomon's Mines ' 
 and other earlier stories, but shows superior strength in many respects, and presents novelty 
 of scene that must win new and more enduring fame for its talented creator. . . . The 
 analysis of human motives and emotions is more subtle in this work than in any previous, 
 production by Mr. Haggard. The story will generally be accorded highest literary rank 
 among the author's works, and will prove of fascinating interest to a host of readers." 
 
 MINNEAPOLIS SPECTATOR. 
 
 " Is full of the magnificence of the Aztec reign, and is quite as romantic and unbelievable 
 as the most fantastic of his earlier creations." BOOK BUYER. 
 
 "We should be disposed to rank this volume next to 'King Solomon's Mines' in order 
 of interest and merit among the author's works." LITERARY WORLD, BOSTON. 
 
 " It is decidedly the most powerful and enjoyable book that Mr. Rider Haggard has 
 written, with the single exception of ' Jess.' " ACADEMY. 
 
 " Mr. Haggard has rarely done anything better than this romantic and interesting narra- 
 tive. Throughout the story we are hurried from one thrilling experience to another, and the 
 whole book is written at a level of sustained passion, which gives it a very absorbing hold on 
 our imagination. A special word of praise ought to be given to the excellent illustrations." 
 
 DAILY TELEGRAPH. 
 
 " Perhaps the best 01 all the author's stones. 
 
 The great distinguishing quality of Rider Haggard is this magic power of seizing and 
 holding his readers so that they become absorbed and abstracted from all earthly things while 
 their eyes devour the page. ... A romance must have 'grip.' . . . This romance 
 possesses the quality of 'grip' in an eminent degree." WALTER BESANT in the AUTHOR. 
 
 "The story is both graphic and exciting, . . . and tells of the invasion of Cortes ; 
 but there are antecedent passages in England and Spain, for the hero is an English adven- 
 turer who finds his way through Spain to Mexico on a vengeful quest. The vengeance is cer- 
 tainly satisfactory, but it is not reached until the hero has had as surprising a series of peril* 
 and escapes as even the fertile imagination of the author ever devised." DIAL, CHICAGO. 
 
 LONGMANS, GEEEN, & CO., 15 EAST 16th STEEET, NEW YOEK,
 
 WHAT NECESSITY KNOWS, 
 
 A Novel of Canadian Life and Character, 
 BY MISS L. DOUGALL, 
 
 AUTHOR OF " BEGGARS ALL." 
 
 Crown 8vo, Cloth, $1.OO. 
 
 ' A very remarkable novel, and not a book that can be lightly classified or ranged with 
 other modern works of fiction. . . . It is a distinct creation ... a structure of 
 noble and original design and of grand and dignified conception. . . . The book bristles 
 with epigrammatic sayings which one would like to remember. ... It will appeal 
 strongly by force of its originality and depth of insight and for the eloquence and dignity of 
 style in the descriptive passages." MANCHESTER GUARDIAN, LONDON. 
 
 " We think we are well within the mark in saying that this novel is one of the three or 
 four best novels of the year. The social atmosphere as well as the external conditions of 
 Canadian life are reproduced faithfully. The author is eminently thoughtful, yet the story 
 is not distinctively one of moral purpose. The play of character and the clash of purpose are 
 finely wrought out. . . . What gives the book its highest value is really the author's 
 deep knowledee of motive and character. The reader continually comes across keen obser- 
 vations and subtle expressions that not infrequently recall George Eliot. The novel is one 
 that is worth reading a second time." OUTLOOK, NEW YORK. 
 
 " Keen analysis. dei> spiritual insight, and a quick sense of beauty in nature and 
 human nature are combined to put before us a drama of human life . . . the book is not 
 only interesting; but stimulating, not only strong but suggestive, and we may say of the 
 writer, in Sidney Lanier's wcrds, 'She shows man what he may be in terms of what he is.'" 
 
 LITERARY W '*LD BOSTOK. 
 
 NADA THE LILY. 
 
 BY H. RIDER HAGGARD, 
 
 AUTHOR OF " SHE," " ALLAN QUATERMAIN," ETC. 
 
 With 23 full-page Illustrations, by C. H. M. Kerr. 
 1 2mo, Cloth, Ornamental (Copyright), $1.OO. 
 
 " A thrilling book full . . . of almost incredible instances of personal daring and of 
 <vonderful revenge. . . . The many vigorous illustrations add much to the interest of a 
 book that may safely be denominated as Mr. Haggard's most successful venture in the 
 writing of fiction." BOSTON BEACON. 
 
 " The story of ' Nada the Lily ' is full of action and adventure ; the plot is cleverly 
 vrought and the fighting and adventure are described with spirit. Once begun it is, indeed, 
 A story to be finished." N. Y. TRIBUNE. 
 
 " The story is a magnificent effort of the imagination and quite the best of all that Mr, 
 Haggard has done. There is no example of manufactured miracle in this story, for the story 
 of the Ghost mountain, the Stone Witch, and the Wolves is nothing but the folk-lore of the 
 African tribes, and in no respect similar to the wonders which the author introduced into 
 the stories in which Allan Quatermain figures." SPRINGFIELD REPUBLICAN. 
 
 "To my mind the realization of savage existence and the spirit of it have never been so 
 honestly and accurately set forth. The Indians of Chateaubriand, and even of Cooper, are 
 conventional compared with these blood-thirsty, loyal, and fatalistic Zulus. . . . The 
 whole legend seems to me to be a curiously veracious reproduction of Zulu life and character." 
 
 Mr. ANDREW LANG in the New Review. 
 
 " Rider Haggard's latest story . . . has a more permanent value than anything 
 this prolific author has previously given to the public. He has preserved in this latest 
 romance many of the curious tales, traditions, superstitions, the wonderful folk-lore of s 
 nation now extinct, a people rapidly melting away before an advancing tide of civilization. 
 The romance into which Mr. Haggard has woven valuable material is in his own inimitable 
 style, and will delight those who love the weirdly improbable." BOSTON TRAVELLER. 
 
 LONGMANS, GEEEN, & CO., 15 EAST 16th STEEET V NEW YOKE.
 
 MICAH CLARKE. 
 
 His statement as made to his three Grandchildren, Joseph, Gervas, a.nd 
 Reuben, during the hard Winter of 1734. 
 
 BY A. CONAN DOYLE, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE CAPTAIN OF THE POLE-STAR," "THE REFUGEES," ETC. 
 
 Author's Edition. Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25. 
 
 " The language has the quaintness of old times, and the descriptions are so vivid and 
 home-like as to make us feel that we are listening to them ourselves ; indeed, the story stands 
 very high among historical novels, and will be of great interest to any one who has followed 
 the more critical setting forth of the troubles preceding the Restoration found in the regular 
 histories. The author has succeeded in giving us the genuine flavor of former days.' 1 
 
 PUBLIC OPINION. 
 
 "... There is a great deal of vivid, thrilling description.'' THE NATION. 
 
 " Wonderfully vivid and realistic, full of the color of the time, and characterized by re- 
 markable power, . . . there are so many pieces of excellent workmanship in 'Micah 
 Clarke' that it would take too long to name them." N. Y. TKIBUNB. 
 
 " We make bold to say that . . . this story of Mr. Doyle's is easily the best exam- 
 ple of the class of fiction to which it belongs of the year. Two descriptions of battles in 
 this story are, it seems to us, among the most brilliant and spirited bits of writing we have 
 lately had. But it is not merely two or three striking incidents, but the maintained interest 
 of the entire tale, that leads us to give it such praise as we have risked above. We shall 
 look with interest for a second story from Mr. Doyle's pen." CHRISTIAN UNION. 
 
 " It is due to the dramatic power of the author that this story becomes so absorbing. 
 There is quickness and vivacity in it, and the story of the soldier of fortune of that day, 
 Saxon, who has acquired this military art in Germany, is capitally told. . . Mr. 
 Doyle never pauses, and so the reader can go at full gallop through the story." N. Y. TIMES. 
 
 THE CAPTAIN OF THE POLE-STAR: 
 
 And Other Tales. 
 
 BY A. CONAN DOYLE. 
 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, $1.25. 
 
 " Lovers of wild adventure, of brilliant satire, of quiet pathos, will all find wherewith to 
 be content in the little book, which, in its variety of subject and treatment, reads more like a 
 volume of stories from Maga than a collection of tales from one of the same pen." 
 
 ATHENAEUM, London. 
 
 " This volume of short stories proves Mr. Doyle to be an expert of the most delightful 
 and skillfull kind in tales of mystery, imagination, and fancy. . . . The book forms a 
 most delightful addition to the too poor literature of good short stories." 
 
 SCOTSMAN ATHENAEUM. 
 
 " All the stories will repay careful reading, as in addition to the interest of the plots 
 the style is singularly varied and reveals as many devices of the literary artist as that of 
 Robert Louis Stevenson.'' SAN FRANCISCO CHRONICLE. 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, & 00., 15 EAST 16th STREET, NEW TURK.
 
 "CAN THIS BE LOVE? 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 
 BY MRS. PARR, 
 
 AUTHOR OF " DOROTHY FOX," "ADAM AND EVE," ETC. 
 
 With Frontispiece and Vignette by Charles Kerr. 
 12mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25. 
 
 " A wholesome tale. . . . It is a pleasant story, delightfully told, and with a whole- 
 some English atmosphere." BOOK BUYER, N. Y. 
 
 " This is a story that will repay the time spent over it. Mrs. Parr is a strong and inter- 
 esting writer. Her characters are live characters, and the incidents through which they 
 move are natural and realistic. Her present story is throughout an exceptionally interesting 
 one, and the reader will find his interest in it kept up to the end. It is handsomely printed 
 on good paper." CHRISTIAN AT WORK, N. Y. 
 
 "The touches of humor . . . are pleasant; the descriptions of scenery are charm- 
 ing : the plot is well and artistically planned and executed ; but, best of all, the whole tone of 
 the book is pure and free from morbidness, and one can read it from cover to cover without 
 finding the taint of vulgarity and super-emotionalism (to call it by the most polite name) 
 which degrades so much of modern fiction." LITERARY WORLD, Boston. 
 
 " It is a love story of more than usual interest and is well worth reading. . . . The 
 three principal persons in the book are fine character studies, and the story is strong and 
 interesting." ADVERTISER, Portland, Me. 
 
 " Mrs. Parr has given us an altogether charming book." TRAVELLER, Boston. 
 
 " One of the daintiest, most homelike and natural stories, of the week . . . the girl 
 is a downright, genuine, substantial girl, like the girls we know in the world and love." 
 
 COMMERCIAL GAZETTE, Cincinnati. 
 
 THE HOUSE OF THE WOLF, 
 
 A ROMANCE. 
 BY STANLEY J. WEYMAN, 
 
 AUTHOR OF " A GENTLEMAN OF FRANCE," ETC. 
 
 With Frontispiece and Vignette by Charles Kerr. 
 12mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.25. 
 
 K live. CRITIC, i>. Y. 
 
 " Recounted as by an eye witness in a forceful way with a rapid and graphic style that 
 imands interest and admiration. 
 
 Of the half dozen stories of St. Bartholomew's Eve which we have read this ranks first 
 rividness, delicacy of perception, reserve power, and high principle." 
 
 COMMERCIAL ADVERTISER, N. Y. 
 
 LONGMANS, GKEEN, & 00., 15 EAST 16th STREET, NEW YOEK.
 
 THE ONE GOOD GUEST. 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 
 BY L. B. WALFORD, 
 
 AUTHOR OF ** MR. SMITH," " THE BABY'S GRANDMOTHER," ETC., ETC. 
 
 12mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.OO. 
 
 " It is a delightful picture of life at an English estate, which is presided over by a young 
 ' Squire' and his young sister. Their experiences are cleverly told, and the complications 
 which arise are amusing and interesting. There are many humorous touches, too, which 
 add no slight strength to the story." BOSTON TIMES. 
 
 " A charming little social comedy, permeated with a refinement of spontaneous humor 
 and brilliant with touches of shrewd and searching satire." BOSTON BEACON. 
 
 " The story is bright, amusing, full of interest and incident, and the characters are ad- 
 mirably drawn. Every reader will recognize a. friend or acquaintance in some of the people 
 here portrayed. Every one will wish he could have been a guest at Duckhill Manor, and 
 will hope that the author has more stories to tell." PUBLIC OPINION. 
 
 " A naturaj, amusing, kindly tale, told with great skill. The characters are delightfully 
 human, the individuality well caught and preserved, the quaint humor lightens every page, 
 and a simple delicacy and tenderness complete an excellent specimen of story telling." 
 
 PROVIDENCE JOURNAL. 
 
 " For neat little excursions into English social life, and that of the best, commend us to 
 the writer of 'The One Good Guest.' " N. Y. TIMES. 
 
 "The story is bright, amusins, full of interest and incident, and the characters are ad- 
 mirably drawn. Every reader will recognize a friend or acquaintance in some of the people 
 here portrayed. Every one will wish he could have been a guest at Duckhill Manor, and 
 will hope that the author has more stories to tell." PORTLAND OREGONIAN. 
 
 BEGGARS ALL. 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 
 BY MISS L. DQUGALL. 
 Sixth Edition. 12mo, Cloth, Ornamental, $1.OO. 
 
 "This is one of the strongest as well as most original romances of the year. . . . The 
 plot is extraordinary. . . . The close of the story is powerful and natural. ... A 
 masterpiece of restrained and legitimate dramatic fiction." LITERARY WORLD. 
 
 "To say that ' Beggars All' is a remarkable novel is to put the case mildly indeed, for 
 it is one of the most original, discerning, and thoroughly philosophical presentations of 
 character that has appeared in English for many a day. . . . Emphatically a novel 
 that thoughtful people ought to read . . . the perusal of it will by many be reckoned 
 among the intellectual experiences that are not easily forgotten." BOSTON BEACON. 
 
 " A story of thrilling interest." HOME JOURNAL. 
 
 " A very unusual quality of novel. It is written with ability : it tells a strong story with 
 elaborate analysis of character and motive . . . it is of decided interest and worth 
 reading." COMMERCIAL ADVERTISER, N. Y. 
 
 " It is more than a story for mere summer reading, but deserves a permanent place 
 among the best works of modern fiction. The author has struck a vein of originality purely 
 her own. . . . It is tragic, pathetic, humerous by turns. . . . Miss Dougall has, in 
 fact, scored a great success. Her book is artistic, realistic, intensely dramatic in fact, one 
 of the novels of the year." BOSTON TRAVELLER. 
 
 " 'Beggars All ' is a noble work of art, but is also something more and something better. 
 It IK a book with a soul in it, and in a sense, therefore, it may be described as an inspired 
 work. The inspiration of genius may or may not be lacking to it, but the inspiration of a 
 pure and beautiful spirituality pervades it completely . . . the characters are truth- 
 fully and powerfully drawn, the situations finely imagined, and the story profoundly 
 interesting." CHICAGO TRIBUNE. 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, & CO., 15 EAST 16th STREET, NEW YORK.
 
 MAJOR JOSHUA 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 BY FRANCIS FORSTER. 
 
 1 2mo, Cloth, $1.OO. 
 
 " In ' Major Joshua ' Mr. Francis Forster has brought before us one of the most 
 curious and interesting, though certainly not one of the most admirable, characters in 
 recent fiction. . . . One can scarcely believe that such an excellent story as ' Major 
 Joshua ' is a first effort." DUNDEE ADVERTISER. 
 
 " We have rarely met a novel by a new hand which is written with such careful 
 restraint, and which in a comparatively short compass is so full of meaning. There is 
 humor in it also, and a vein of satire which is not too serious to be entertaining." 
 
 WESTMINSTER GAZETTE. 
 
 "The charm of the book, however, is largely in the unique character of Major 
 Joshua, whose name is Robinson. He is a person whose chief business is to attend to 
 other people's business. An imperturbable old busybody who looks upon matrimony 
 as a huge joke, he makes a tremendous amount of mischief, but always in a grimly 
 humorous sort of way." BOSTON BEACON. 
 
 " Major Joshua Robinson is a new character in literature. . . . He can hardly 
 be called the hero of Francis Forster's new novel, since he is not of the stuff of which 
 heroes are made ; but the author makes him the prominent figure in a very delightful 
 story." BOSTON ADVERTISER. 
 
 " It is more interesting than nine-tenths of the novels now written, since it deals 
 with unusual but not unnatural people and analyzes their motives and emotions in a 
 remarkably clever way. . . . Mr. Forster has written a book which people will 
 think about." DETROIT PRESS. 
 
 DAVID'S LOOM. 
 
 A STORY OF ROCHDALE LIFE IN THE EARLY YEARS OF 
 
 THE NINETEENTH CENTURY. 
 
 BY JOHN TRAFFORD CLEGG (Th' Owd Weighver), 
 AUTHOR OF "HEART STRINGS," "PIECES IN ROCHDALE DIALECT," ETC. 
 
 Crown 8vo, Cloth, $ 1 .OO. 
 
 "This is a very remarkable book in many ways. For one thing it is a triumph in ver- 
 nacular ; for another it is a very successful experiment in a hitherto untried and apparently 
 unpromising field of historical fiction. It gives us Rochdale life and dialect, tragedy and 
 comedy in the early part of the present century . . . altogether ' David's Loom ' is one 
 of the most interesting and artistically satisfactory romances of the historical kind that have 
 been published for a long time." SPECTATOR. LONDON. 
 
 " The story is a tragic one, and powerful as such, while its humorous passages in the 
 Lancashire dialect are by far its best parts. . . . It is a deeply interesting story, and 
 has real literary merit" SCOTSMAN. 
 
 " A thrilling story. . . . The narrative never flags in interest from the opening to 
 the concluding pages." DAILY TELEGRAPH. 
 
 LONGMANS, GKEEN, & CO., 15 EAST 16th STEEET, NEW YORK
 
 KEITH DERAMORE. 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 
 By the Author of " Miss Molly." 
 
 Crown 8vo, Cloth, $1.OO. 
 
 " One of the strongest novels for the year. . . . A book of absorbing and sustained 
 Interest, full of those touches of pathos, gusts of passion, and quick glimpses into the very 
 hearts of men and women which are a necessary equipment of any great writer of fiction." 
 
 STAR. 
 
 " A story with originality of plot and a number of interesting and skillfully drawn char- 
 acters. . . . Well worthy of a careful perusal." BOSTON BEACON. 
 
 " The few important characters introduced are very clearly and well drawn ; one is a 
 quite unusual type and reveals a good deal of power in the author. It is a live story of 
 more than ordinary interest." REVIEW OF REVIEWS. 
 
 "A novel of quiet but distinct force and of marked refinement in manner. The few 
 characters in ' Keith Deramore' are clearly and delicately drawn, and the slight plot is well 
 sustained." CHRISTIAN UNION. 
 
 " The author of 'Miss Molly' shall have her reward in the reception of 'Keith Dera- 
 more.' If it is not popular there is no value in prophecy.'' SPRINGFIELD REPUBLICAN. 
 
 "The story is strong and interesting, worthy of a high place in fiction." 
 
 PUBLIC OPINION. 
 
 " Its development can be followed with great interest. It is well written and entertain- 
 ing throughout." THE CRITIC. 
 
 " An exceptionally interesting novel. It is an admirable addition to an admirable series." 
 
 BOSTON TRAVELLER. 
 
 " It contains character-drawing which places it much above the average love story, and 
 makes the reading of it worth while. It is a fine study of a normally-selfish man. There is 
 humor in it, and sustained interest." BUFFALO EXPRESS. 
 
 A MORAL DILEMMA, 
 
 BY ANNIE M. THOMPSON. 
 
 Crown Svo, Cloth, $ 1 .OO. 
 
 " We have in this most delightful volume ... a new novel by a new author. The 
 fille is happily chosen, the plot is thrillingly interesting, its development is unusually artistic, 
 the style is exceptionally pure, the descriptions are graphic. In short we have one of the 
 best of recent novels, and the author gives great promise." BOSTON TRAVELLER. 
 
 " A novel of rare beauty and absorbing interest. Its plot, which is constructed with 
 great skill, is decidedly unconventional in its development, and its denouement, although 
 unanticipated until near its climax, really comes as an agreeable surprise. . . . As a 
 literary work, 'A Moral Dilemma' will take high rank.'' BOSTON HOME JOURNAL. 
 
 "The story is well written and gives promise of the development of a writer who will 
 take place among the ranks of those of her sex who are supplying what is much needed at 
 this time entertaining, wholesome literature." YALE COURANT. 
 
 "The author writes with vigor and earnestness, and the book is one of interest and 
 power." PUBLIC OPINION. 
 
 "The story is strongly told." INDEPENDENT. 
 
 " A strong story which leaves the reader better for the perusal. A touchlight, as 
 Barrie's carries one through the successive scenes, which are fraught with deep interest." 
 
 PUBLIC LEDGER. 
 
 LONGMANS, GREEN, & 00., 15 EAST 16th STREET, NEW YORK.
 
 THE UNBIDDEN GUEST. 
 
 BY E. W. HORNUNG, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "TINY LUTTRELL," "A BRIDE FROM THE BUSH," ETC. 
 
 With Frontispiece and Vignette. Crown 8vo, Cloth, $1.OO. 
 
 "... the heroism in this romance at once excites your curiosity. . . . Mr. 
 Hornung has the exact qualities of the story teller. You delight in being fooled, and the 
 author fools you to the top of your bent. . . . 'The Unbidden Guest ' is a remarkable 
 story, replete with pathos, and though there is plenty of fun in it the dramatic effects are the 
 more conspicuous. It is only a writer of exceeding talent who could work up a heroine like 
 Missy and make you not only forgive but like her." NEW YORK TIMES. 
 
 "A tale of Australia with a plot which is not in the least trite, and a heroine quite of the 
 unusual order. . . . The story is well told.'' PUBLIC OPINION. 
 
 "A strong and clever story." THE WORLD, N. Y. 
 
 '" The Unbidden Guest' is bold in conception and tender in treatment. . . . Mr. 
 Hornun.er has written quite a little gem of romantic fiction, thoroughly Australian in setting, 
 thoroughly natural, if a little improbable, perfectly illusive, both as to character and as to 
 incidents, and at least as pathe-tic in its situations as 'A Bride from the Bush.' . . . 
 Many will be disposed to think it the best story which its author has produced." 
 
 ANTHEN^BUM. 
 
 THE NEW EDEN. 
 
 A STORY. 
 BY C. J. CUTLIFFE HYNE. 
 
 With Frontispiece and Vignette. 
 Crown 8vo, Cloth, Ornamental, $ 1 .OO. 
 
 " One of the most peculiar stories of the fall. . . . The tale unfolded is very ingen- 
 ious, interesting, and well written. It is imaginative decidedly. 
 
 The way these untutored human beings act upon meeting, and afterwards, is told with 
 great dexterity, and primitive human nature is revealed in many aspects. The mental un- 
 foldings resulting from their experiences and surroundings are decidedly interesting, and 
 the descriptions of scenery are brilliant . . . fascinating reading, is charmingly idyllic, 
 and above all is original from cover to cover." BOSTON TIMES. 
 
 "A cleverly written story. . . . The masculine traits of Adam and the feminine 
 traits of Eve, inherent in both, are wrought out with skill and naturalness, and the whole 
 makes an unusually interesting study and is also analogy from which many interesting con- 
 clusions can be drawn." HARTFORD TIMES. 
 
 "The book is an excellent piece of purely imaginative writing, and is wholly original in 
 its conception." PUBLIC OPINION. 
 
 " Something in a new vein. It ought to make a sensation, and we hazard nothing in 
 saying that it will sometime run through many editions. We have here the best work of a 
 brilliant author." BOSTON TRAVELLER. 
 
 "A book that is likely to arouse no little animated comment. . . . His chronicle of 
 the experiences of a modern Adam and Eve is full of entertainment as well as of wisdom. 
 . . . The tale has obviously more than one meaning, and it is carried out with so much 
 vivacity and verisimilitude that it cannot fail to excite a very decided interest." 
 
 THE BEACON, Boston. 
 
 LONGMANS, GEEEN, & 00,, 15 EAST 16tli STEEET, NEW YOEK.
 
 THE PEOPLE OF THE MIST. 
 
 By H. RIDER HAGGARD, 
 
 AUTHOR OF " SHE," " ALLAN QUATBRMAIN," " MONTEZUMA'S DAUGHTER," ETC., ETC. 
 
 With 16 full-page Illustrations by Arthur Layard. Crown 
 8vo, cloth, ornamental, $1.25. 
 
 " Out of Africa, as all men know, the thing that is new is ever forthcoming. The old 
 style is true with regard to Mr. Haggard's romances, and everybody concerned is to be con- 
 gratulated upon the romancer's return to the magical country where lies the land of Kor. 
 Africa is Mr. Haggard's heaven of invention. Let him be as prodigal as he may, thence 
 flows an exhaustless stream of romance, rich in wonders new and astonishing. ' The People 
 of the Mist ' belongs to the sphere of ' She ' in its imaginative scope, and, as an example of 
 the story-teller's art, must be reckoned of the excellent company of ' King Solomon's 
 Mines ' and its brethren. We read it at one spell, as it were, hardly resisting that effect of 
 fascination which invites you, at the critical moments of the story, to plunge ahead at a 
 venture to know what is coming, and be resolved as to some harrowing doubt of dilemma. 
 There is no better test of the power of a story than this. . . ." SATURDAY REVIEW. 
 
 " The lawyer, the physician, the business man, the teacher, find in these novels, teem- 
 ing with life and incident, precisely the medicine to rest tired brains and ' to take them out of 
 themselves.' There is, perhaps, no writer of this present time whose works are read more 
 generally and wim keener pleasure. The mincing words, the tedious conversations, the 
 prolonged agony of didactic discussion, characteristic of the ordinary novel of the time, find 
 no place in the crisp, bright, vigorous pages of Mr. Haggard's books. . . . ' The People 
 of the Mist ' is what we expect and desire from the pen of this writer ... a deeply 
 interesting novel, a fitting companion to ' Allan Quatermain.' " PUBLIC OPINION. 
 
 " The story of the combat between the dwarf Otter and the huge ' snake,' a crocodile 
 of antediluvian proportions, and the following account of the escape of the Outram party, 
 is one of the best pieces of dramatic fiction which Mr. Haggard has ever written." BOS- 
 TON ADVERTISER. 
 
 " One of his most ingenious fabrications of marvellous adventure, and so skilfully is it 
 done that the reader loses sight of the improbability in the keen interest of the tale. Two 
 loving and beautiful women figure in the narrative, and in his management of the heroine 
 and her rival the author shows his originality as well as in the sensational element which is 
 his peculiar province." BOSTON BEACON. 
 
 " ' The People of the Mist ' is the best novel he has written since ' She,' and it runs 
 that famous romance very close indeed. The dwarf Otier is fully up to the mark of Rider 
 Haggard's best character, and his fight with the snake god is as powerful as anything the 
 author has written. The novel abounds in striking scenes and incidents, and the read- 
 er's interest is never allowed to flag. The attack on the slave kraal and the rescue of Juanna 
 are in Mr. Haggard's best vein." CHARLESTON NEWS. 
 
 " It has all the dash and go of Haggard's other tales of adventure, and few readers will 
 be troubled over the impossible things in the story as they follow the exciting exploits of the 
 hero and his redoubtable dwarf Otter. . . . Otter is a character worthy to be classed 
 with Umslopogus, the great Zulu warrior. Haggard has never imagined anything more ter- 
 ror-inspiring than the adventures of Leonard and his party in the awful palace of the Chil- 
 dren of Mist, nor has he ever described a more thrilling combat than that between the dwarf 
 and the huge water snake in the sacred pool." SAN FRANCISCO CHRONICLE. 
 
 " It displays all of this popular author's imagery, power to evoke and combine miraculous 
 incidents, and skill in analyzing human motives and emotions in the most striking manner. 
 He is not surpassed by any modern writer of fiction for vividness of description or keenness 
 of perception and boldness of characterization. The reader will find here the same qualities 
 in full measure that stamped ' King Solomon's Mines,' 'Jess,' ' She,' and his other earlier 
 romances with their singular power. The narrative is a series of scenes and pictures ; the 
 events are strange to the verge of ghoulishness ; the action of the story is tireless, and the 
 reader is held as with a grip not to be shaken off." BOSTON COURIER. 
 
 " Sometimes we are reminded of ' King Solomon's Mines ' and sometimes of She,' but the 
 mixture has the same elements of interest, dwells in the same strange land of mystery and 
 adventure, and appeals to the same public that buys and reads Mr. Haggard's works for the 
 sake of the rapid adventure, the strong handling of improbable incident, and the fascination 
 of the supernatural." BALTIMORE SUN. 
 
 LONGMANS, GKEEN, & CO., 15 EAST 16th STEEET.NEW YOKK.
 
 DATE DUE 
 
 PRINTED IN U.S.A.
 
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