An Enemy To The King

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"And now, M. de la Chatre," said I, "you may strike the bowl as often as
you please."

"M. de la Chatre," said Montignac, in a quick, resolute voice, "give me
leave to finish this!"

"As you will, Montignac!" replied the governor, moving towards the
window. His movement betrayed his thought. If his troops should return in
the next few minutes, I would be too busy with Montignac to attack
himself. There were two hopes for him. One was that, by some miracle,
Montignac might kill or wound me. The other was that the troops might
return before I should have finished with Montignac. La Chatre had
doubtless inferred that I had brought with me none of my men but Frojac;
therefore I alone was to be feared.

Montignac, keeping his eyes fixed on me, transferred his dagger to his
left hand, and drew his sword with his right. I, with my sword already in
my right hand, drew my dagger with my left.

"Monsieur," said I to Montignac, "I see with pleasure that you are not
a coward."

"You shall see what you shall see, monsieur!" he answered, in the voice
of a man who fears nothing and never loses his wits.

It was, indeed, a wonder that this man of thought could become so
admirable a man of action. There was nothing fragile in this pale
student. His eyes took on the hardness of steel. Never did more
self-reliant and resolute an antagonist meet me. The hate that was
manifest in his countenance did not rob him of self-possession. It only
strengthened and steadied him. At first I thought him foolhardy to face
so boldly an antagonist who wore a breastplate, but later I found that,
beneath his jerkin, he was similarly protected. I suppose that he had
intended to accompany the troops to Maury, had so prepared himself for
battle, and had not found opportunity, after the change of intention, to
divest himself.

Conscious of mademoiselle's presence behind me, I stood for a moment
awaiting the secretary's attack. In that moment did I hear, or but seem
to hear, the sound of many horses' footfalls on the distant road? I did
not wait to assure myself. Knowing that, if the governor's troops had
indeed found Maury abandoned, and had returned, quick work was
necessary, I attacked at the same instant as my adversary did. As I
would no more than disable an antagonist less protected than myself, I
made to touch him lightly in his right side; but my point, tearing away
a part of his jerkin, gave the sound and feel of metal, and thus I
learned that he too wore body armor. I was pleased at this; for now we
were less unequal than I had thought, and I might use full force. He had
tried to turn with his dagger this my first thrust, but was not quick
enough, whereas my own dagger caught neatly the sword-thrust that he
made simultaneously with mine.

"Oh, M. de Launay!" cried mademoiselle, behind me, in a voice of terror,
at the first swift clash of our weapons.

"Fear not for me, mademoiselle!" I cried, catching Montignac's blade
again with my dagger, and giving a thrust which he avoided by
leaping backward.

"Good, Montignac!" cried La Chatre, looking on from the window. "He
cannot reach you! If you cannot kill him, you may keep him engaged till
the troops come back!"

"I shall kill him!" was Montignac's reply, while he faced me with set
teeth and relentless eyes.

"Listen, monsieur!" cried mademoiselle. "If you die, I shall die with
you!" And she ran from behind me to the centre of the chamber, where I
could see her.

"And if I live?" I shouted, narrowly stopping a terrible thrust, and
stepping back between the table and the bed.

"If we live, I am yours forever! Ernanton, I love you!"

At last she had confessed it with her lips! For the first time, she had
called me by my Christian name! My head swam with joy.

"You kill me with happiness, Julie!" I cried, overturning the table
towards Montignac to gain a moment's breath.

"I shall kill you with my sword!" Montignac hurled the words through
clenched teeth. "For, by God, you shall have no happiness with her!"

His white face had an expression of demoniac hate, yet his thrusts became
the more adroit and swift, his guard the more impenetrable and firm. His
body was as sinuous as a wild beast's, his eye as steady. The longer he
fought, the more formidable he became as an adversary. He was worth a
score of Vicomtes de Berquin.

"Ernanton," cried mademoiselle, "you know all my treachery!"

"I know that you would have saved your father," I answered, leaping
backward upon the bed, to avoid the secretary's impetuous rush; "and
that I have saved him, and that, God willing, we shall soon meet him
in Guienne!"

"If he meets you, it will be in hell!" With this, Montignac jumped upon
the bed after me, and there was some close dagger play while I turned to
back out between the posts at the foot.

At this moment La Chatre gave a loud, jubilant cry, and mademoiselle,
looking out of the window, uttered a scream of consternation.

"The troops at last!" shouted La Chatre. "Hold out but another minute,
Montignac!"

So then I had heard aright. Alas, I thought, that the river road to Maury
should be so much shorter than the forest road; alas, that the governor's
troops should have had time to return ere Blaise had reached the junction
of the roads!

"My God, the soldiers have us in a trap!" cried mademoiselle, while I
caught Montignac's dagger-point with a bed-curtain, and stepped backward
from the bed to the floor.

"And mademoiselle shall be mine!"

As he uttered these words with a fiendish kind of elation, Montignac
leaped from the bed after me, releasing his dagger by pulling the curtain
from its fastening, while at the same time his sword-point, directed at
my neck, rang on my breast-plate.

"You shall not live to see the end of this, monsieur!" I replied,
infuriated at his premature glee.

And, having given ground a little, I made so quick an onslaught that, in
saving himself, he fell back against a chair, which overturned and took
him to the floor with it.

"Help, monsieur!" he cried to La Chatre, raising his dagger just in time
to ward off my sword.

The governor now perceived the sword that stood by the fireplace, took it
up, and thrust at me. Mademoiselle, who, in her distress at the sight of
the troops, had run to the _prie-dieu_ and fallen on her knees, saw La
Chatre's movement, and, rushing forward, caught the sword with both hands
as he thrust. I expected to see her fingers torn by the blade, but it
happened that the sword was still in its sheath, a fact which in our
excitement none of us had observed; so that when La Chatre tried to pull
the weapon from her grasp he merely drew it from the sheath, which
remained in her hands. By this time I was ready for the governor.

"Come on!" I cried. "It is a better match, two against me!"

And I sent La Chatre's sword flying from his hand, just in time to guard
against a dagger stroke from Montignac, who had now risen. Julie snatched
up the sword and held the governor at bay with it.

For some moments the distant clatter of galloping horses had been rapidly
increasing.

"Quick!" shouted La Chatre through the window to the approaching troops.
"To the rescue!"

And he stood wildly beckoning them on, but keeping his head turned
towards Montignac and me, who both fought with the greatest fury. For I
saw that I had found at last an antagonist requiring all my strength and
skill, one with whom the outcome was not at all certain.

The tumult of hoofs grew louder and nearer.

"Ernanton, fly while we can! The soldiers are coming!"

Mademoiselle threw La Chatre's sword to a far corner, ran to the door
leading from the stairway landing, closed it, and pushed home the bolt.

"They are at the gate! They are entering!" cried the governor, joyously.
"Another minute, Montignac!"

There was the rushing clank of hoofs on the drawbridge, then from the
courtyard rose a confused turbulence of horses, men, and arms.

Again my weapons clashed with Montignac's. Julie looked swiftly around.
Her eye alighted on the dagger that lay on one of the chairs. She drew it
from its sheath.

"If we die, it is together!" she cried, holding it aloft.

There came a deadened, thumping sound, growing swiftly to great volume.
It was that of men rushing up the stairs.

"To the rescue!" cried La Chatre. "But one more parry, Montignac!"

There was now a thunder of tramping in the hall outside the door.

"Ay, one more--the last!" It was I who spoke, and the speech was truth. I
leaped upon my enemy, between his dagger and his sword, and buried my
dagger in his neck. When I drew it out, he whirled around, clutched
wildly at the air, caught the curtain at the window, and fell, with the
quick, sharp cry:

"God have mercy on me!"

"Amen to that!" said I, wiping the blood from my dagger.

A terrible pounding shook the door, and from without came cries of
"Open." Mademoiselle ran to my side, her dagger ready for her breast. I
put my left arm around her.

"And now, God have mercy on _you_!" shouted La Chatre, triumphantly; for
the door flew from its place, and armed men surged into the chamber,
crowding the open doorway.

"Are we in time, my captain?" roared their leader, looking from the
governor to me.

And La Chatre tottered back to the fireplace, dumbfounded, for the leader
was Blaise and the men were my own.

Julie gave a glad little cry, and, dropping her dagger, sank to her knees
exhausted.

"Good-night, monsieur!" I said to La Chatre. "We thank you for your
hospitality!"

CHAPTER XVIII.

THE RIDE TOWARDS GUIENNE

I ordered the men to return to the courtyard, and, supporting Julie, I
followed them from the chamber, leaving M. de la Chatre alone with his
chagrin and the dead body of his secretary.

In the hall outside the governor's chamber, we found Jeannotte and Hugo,
for Blaise had brought them with him, believing that we would not return
to Maury. The gypsies had accompanied him as far as Godeau's inn, where
we had first met them. He had even brought as much baggage and provisions
as could be hastily packed on the horses behind the men. The only human
beings left by him at Maury were the three rascals who had so
blunderingly served De Berquin, but he had considerately unlocked the
door of their cell before his departure.

I begged mademoiselle to rest a while in one of the chambers contiguous
to the hall, and, when she and Jeannotte had left us, I told Blaise as
much of the truth as it needed to show mademoiselle as she was. I then
explained why he had found the draw-bridge down, the gate open, the
chateau undefended. He grinned at the trick that fate had played on our
enemies, but looked rather downcast at the lost opportunity of meeting
them at Maury.

"But," said he, looking cheerful again, "they will come back to
the chateau and find us here, and we may yet have some lively work
with them."

"Perchance," I said, "for I fear that mademoiselle cannot endure another
ride to-night. If she could, I would start immediately for Guienne. Our
work in Berry is finished."

"Then you shall start immediately," said a gentle but resolute voice
behind me. Mademoiselle, after a few minutes' repose, had risen and come
to demand that no consideration for her comfort should further imperil
our safety.

"But--" I started to object.

"Better another ride," she said, with a smile, "than another risking of
your life. I swear that I will not rest till you are out of danger. It is
not I who most need rest."

She looked, indeed, fresh and vigorous, as one will, despite bodily
fatigue, when one has cast off a heavy burden and found promise of new
happiness. When a whole lifetime of joy was to be won, it was no time to
tarry for the sake of weary limbs.

So it was decided that we should start at once southward, not resting
until we should be half-way across the mountains. As for my belated
foragers, we should have to let them take their chances of rejoining
us; and some weeks later they did indeed arrive at the camp in
Guienne with rich spoil, having found Maury given over to the owls
and bats as of yore.

The men cheered for joy at the announcement that we were at last to
rejoin our Henri's flying camp. In the guard-house we found Pierre and
the other guardsman, both securely bound by Frojac. We released Pierre
and sent him to his mistress. I put Blaise at the head of my company, and
we set forth, half of the troop going first, then mademoiselle and I,
then Jeannotte and the two boys, and lastly the other half of my force.
Looking back, I saw the lighted window of the governor's chamber, that
window whence I had looked out at Frojac and whence La Chatre had
mistakenly taken my men for his own. Doubtless he still sat in his
chamber, dazed and incapable of action, for after leaving him alone there
I neither saw nor heard him. Nor did we see any more troops or any
servants about the chateau. Some hasty scampering in distant apartments,
after the entrance of my men, was the only indication of inhabitants that
we had received. If there were other troops in the chateau than the six
we had disposed of, they followed the example of the servants and lay
close. As for the soldiers at the town guard-house, they must have heard
my men ride to the chateau, but they had wisely refrained from appearing
before a force greater than their own. I shall never cease to marvel that
the very night that took me and my men to Clochonne by one road took La
Chatre's guards and the town garrison to Maury by another.

When I sent Blaise to the head of the troops, I told him to set a good
pace, for the governor's men had indeed had time sufficient to have gone
to Maury, discovered their mistake, and come back, so much shorter is the
river road than the forest way. There was a likelihood, therefore, of
their reaching the point of junction, on their return, at any minute, and
I wished to be past that point and well up the mountain-side before they
should do so.

Julie rode very close to me, and as soon as we were out of the gate she
began in a low tone to speak of a thing that required no more explanation
to me; yet I let her speak on, for the relief of her heart. So, in a few
minutes, as we rode with the soldiers in the night, she eased her mind
forever of the matter.

"When I received word in Bourges," she said, "that my father was in
prison, I thought that I would die of grief and horror. They would not
let me see him, told me that his crime of harboring a Huguenot was a
grave one, that he had violated the King's edict, and might be charged
even with treason. The thought of how he must suffer in a dungeon was
more than I could endure. Only M. de la Chatre, they told me, could order
his release. La Chatre had left Fleurier to go northward. I started after
him, not waiting even to refresh my horses. When we reached the inn at
the end of the town, I had become sufficiently calm to listen to Hugo's
advice that it would be best to bait the horses before going further. I
began to perceive, too, that myself and Jeannotte needed some nourishment
in order to be able to go on a journey. Thus it happened that I stopped
at the inn where La Chatre himself was. He had not gone immediately north
from Fleurier, but had been visiting an estate in the vicinity, and it
was on regaining the main road that he had tarried at the inn, without
reentering the town. I had never seen him, but the girl at the inn told
me who he was.

"When I fell on my knees, and told him how incapable my father was of
harm or disloyalty, he at first showed annoyance, and said that my
pleading would be useless. My father must be treated as an example, he
said. To succor traitors was treason, to shield heretics was heresy, and
there was no doubt that the judges would condemn him to death, to furnish
others a lesson. He was then going to leave me, but his secretary came
forward and said that I had come at an opportune moment, an instrument
sent by Heaven. Was I not, he asked the governor, some one who had much
to gain or much to lose? Then La Chatre became joyful, and said that
there was a way--one only--by which I might free my father. Eagerly I
begged to know that way, but with horror I refused it when I learned that
it was to--to hunt down a certain Huguenot captain, to make him trust me,
and to betray him. For a time I would not hear his persuasions. Then he
swore that, if I did not undertake this detestable mission, my father
should surely die; and he told me that you were a deserter, a traitor, an
enemy to the church and to the King, I had heard your name but once or
twice, and I remembered it only as one who had worked with daring and
secrecy in the interests of the Huguenots. He described my father
tortured and killed, his body hanging at the gates of Fleurier, blown by
the wind, and attacked by the birds. Oh, it was terrible! All this could
be avoided, my father's liberty regained, by my merely serving the King
and the church. He gave his word that, if I betrayed you, my father
should be released without even a trial. You can understand, can you not?
You were then a stranger to me, and my father the most gentle and kindly
of men, the most tender and devoted of fathers."

"I understood already when I stood behind the curtain,
sweetheart," said I.

"When you came," she went on, "and asked whither I was bound, I made my
first attempt at lying. I wonder that you did not perceive my
embarrassment and shame when I said that the governor had threatened to
imprison me if I did not leave the province. It was the best pretext I
could give for leaving Fleurier while my father remained there in prison,
though they would not let me see him. It occurred to me that you must
think me a heartless daughter to go so far from him, even if it were,
indeed, to save my life."

"I thought only that you were an unhappy child, of whose inexperience and
fears the governor had availed himself; and that, after all, was the
truth. From the first moment when I knew that you were the daughter of M.
de Varion, I was resolved to attempt his rescue; but I kept my intention
from you, lest I might fail."

"Oh, to think that all the while I was planning your betrayal, you were
intending to save my father! Oh, the deception of which I was guilty!
What constant torture, what continual shame I felt! Often I thought I had
betrayed myself. Did you not observe my agitation when you first
mentioned the name of La Tournoire, and said that you would take me to
him. I wonder that you did not hear my heart say, 'That is the man I am
to betray!' And how bitter, yet sweet, it was to hear you commiserate my
dejection, which was due in part to the shame of the treacherous task I
had undertaken. It seemed to me that you ought to guess its cause, yet
you attributed it all to other sources. What a weight was on me while we
rode towards Clochonne, the knowledge that I was to betray the man whom I
then thought your friend,--the friend of the gentleman who protected me
and was so solicitous for my happiness! How glad I was when you told me
the man was no great friend of yours, that you would sacrifice him for
the sake of the woman you loved! After all, I thought you might not
loathe me when you should learn that I had betrayed him! Yet, to perform
my task in your presence, to make him love me--for I was to do that, if
needs be and it could be done--while you were with me, seemed impossible.
This was the barrier between us, the fact that I had engaged to betray
your friend, and you can understand now why I begged that you would leave
me. How could I play the Delilah in your sight? It had been hard enough
to question you about La Tournoire's hiding-place. And when I learned
that you were La Tournoire himself, whom I had already half betrayed in
sending Pierre to La Chatre with an account of your hiding-place; that
you whom I already loved--why should I not confess it?--were the man
whom I was to pretend to love; that you who already loved me were the man
whom I was to betray by making him love me,--oh, what a moment that was,
a moment when all hope died and despair overwhelmed me! Had I known from
the first that you were he, I might have guarded against loving you--"

"And well it is," said I, interrupting, "that for a jest and a surprise I
had kept that knowledge from you! Else you might indeed have--"

"Oh, do not think of it!" And she shuddered. "But you are right. Love
alone has saved us. But at first even the knowledge that you were La
Tournoire, and that none the less I loved you, did not make me turn back.
If my duty to my father had before required that I should sacrifice you,
did my duty not still require it? Did it make any change in my duty that
I loved you? What right had I, when devoted to a task like mine, to love
any one? If I had violated my duty by loving you, ought I not to
disregard my love, stifle it, act as if it did not exist? I had to forget
that I was a woman who loved, remember only that I was a daughter. My
filial duty was no less, my proper choice between my father and another
was not altered by my having fallen in love. I must carry my horrible
task to the end. What a night of struggle was that at the inn, after I
had learned that the appointed victim was you! And now it was necessary
that you should not leave me; therefore I spoke no more of the barrier
between us. I fortified myself to hide my feelings and maintain my
pretence. Surely you noticed the change in me, the forced composure and
cheerfulness. How I tried to harden myself!

"And after that the words of love you so often spoke to me, what bliss
and what anguish they caused me! I was to have made you love me, but you
loved me already. I ought to have rejoiced at this, for the success that
it promised my purpose. Yet, it was on that account that I shuddered at
it; and if it did give me moments of joy it was because it was pleasant
to have your love. My heart rose at the thought that I was loved by you,
and fell at the thought that your love was to cause your death. Often,
for your own sake, I wished that I might fail, that you would not love
me; yet for my father's sake I had to wish that I should succeed, had to
be glad that you loved me. To make you fall the more easily into the
hands of your enemies, I had to show love for you. How easy it was to
show what I felt; yet what anguish I underwent in showing it, when by
doing so I led you to death! The more I appeared to love you, the more
truly I disclosed my heart, yet the greater I felt was my treason! I do
not think any woman's heart was ever so torn by opposing motives!"

"My beloved, all that is past forever!"

"In my dreams at Maury, we would be strolling together among roses, under
cloudless skies, nothing to darken my joy. Then I would see you wounded,
the soldiers of the governor gathered around you and laughing at my
horror and grief. I would awake and vow not to betray you, and then I
would see my father's face, pale and haggard, and my dead mother's wet
with tears for his misery and supplicating me to save him!"

"My poor Julie!"

"And to-night,--yes, it was only to-night, it seems so long ago,--when
you held my hand on the dial, and plighted fidelity, what happiness I
should have had then, but for the knowledge of my horrible task, of the
death that awaited you, of the treason I was so soon to commit! For I and
Jeannotte had already arranged it, Hugo was soon to be sent to La Chatre.
And then came De Berquin. For telling only the truth of me, you killed
him as a traducer. So much faith you had in me, who deserved so little! I
could endure it no longer! Never would I look on your face again with
that weight of shame on me. God must send other means of saving my
father. They demanded too much of me. I would, as far as I could, make
myself worthy of your faith, though I never saw you again. Yet I could
not betray La Chatre. He had entrusted me with his design, and,
detestable as it was, I could not play him false in it. But I could at
least resign the mission. And I went, to undo the compact and claim back
my honor! I little guessed that he would make use, without my knowledge,
of the information I had sent him of your hiding-place. It seemed that,
even though La Chatre did know your hiding-place, God would not let you
be taken through me if I refused to be your betrayer."

"And so it has turned out," I said, blithely, "and now I no longer regret
having kept from you my intention of attempting your father's release.
For had I told you of it, and events taken another course, that attempt
might have failed, and it would perhaps have cost many lives, whereas the
order that I got from La Chatre this night is both sure and inexpensive.
But for matters having gone as they have, I should not have been enabled
to get that order. Ha! What is this!"

For Blaise had suddenly called a halt, and was riding back to me as if
for orders.

"Look, monsieur!" and he pointed to where the rive, road appeared from
behind a little spur at the base of the mountains. A body of horsemen was
coming into view. At one glance I recognized the foremost riders as
belonging to the troop I had seen four hours before.

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