Part 41 (1/2)
True and tried friend though he was I shook him off roughly, and hurried into the streets like a madman. How I reached the Hotel de Ville I cannot tell! I seemed to have made the pa.s.sage in darkness; but at last I found myself there, pressing through the ever-increasing crowd that thronged the entrance to the trial chamber; and finally, pa.s.sing the doors, I took my stand in the gallery reserved for spectators.
With burning eyes I looked upon the scene beneath me. Camus had just concluded his evidence, and was bowing to the court, a smile on his traitor's face as he listened to some words of compliment addressed to him by De Mouchy. Simon, the man I wanted, was nowhere to be seen, though my eyes, fierce with hatred, searched for him everywhere. But on a seat beside the judge was La Valentinois herself, radiantly beautiful, now fluttering her fan, now sniffing daintily at her vinaigrette, as she bent her frosty glance on the prisoners. One was old Ferrieres. Like a dying man, he leaned back in a chair that had been provided for him, for his wounds left him no strength to stand. His eyes were closed. He seemed to have fainted, and was oblivious of what was going on around him, whilst death had already set its seal upon his haggard and drawn face. Mademoiselle stood by his side, a hand resting on his chair. For one brief second our eyes met, and she smiled at me--a brave smile--and I bent my head in sorrow, for I could not look. It needed not the cry of the ushers in the court for silence. Every tongue was still. There was not a whisper, not a movement, for all felt that the supreme moment had arrived. De Mouchy bent over his papers. I heard them rustling; and then La Valentinois, leaning forward, said something to him in a low voice. There was a word to an usher, and once more the insupportable silence.
In a little we heard the steady tramp of feet. Nearer and nearer the sound came. A side door in the body of the court was opened, and a third prisoner was brought in and placed before the judge. Craning forward I looked. It was De Ganache; but how changed from the once brilliant cavalier. His figure was stooped and bent, his once dark hair was white, his face wrinkled as that of an old man, and in his s.h.i.+fty, unsettled glance glared the fires of madness. He did not seem to realise where he was, but began to laugh vacantly, but the laugh died away to a frozen look as his gaze fixed itself on La Valentinois.
”Diane,” he cried in a terrible voice as he stretched his arms out towards her, ”it was for your sake!”
But she, his destroyer, scarce glanced at him from her place on the judgment seat.
”He is quite mad!” And with a musical laugh she leaned back, and picking out a comfit from a little jewelled box began to nibble at it daintily as De Ganache's hands fell helplessly to his sides.
And now De Mouchy spoke. ”Monsieur De Ganache, do you recognise the prisoners there?”
De Ganache followed his glance; a s.h.i.+ver went through him, and as he looked a red flush mounted to his forehead. Never had I seen a man look so before, and, thank G.o.d! never after. Unspeakable shame and hopeless despair were sealed upon his face. His lips grew livid, and twice the question was repeated ere he forced himself to answer.
”Yes.”
I held my breath and listened. What did this mean? Ferrieres still lay back in his semi-trance, oblivious of all things; but mademoiselle moved forward and looked at De Ganache, ineffable pity in her eyes. And now came the next question.
”They are known to you as Christaudins?”
One glance at mademoiselle and De Ganache shrank back; but her voice rang out clear and sweet, for she, with all of us, mistook the reason of De Ganache's terrible emotion.
”Deny it not, De Ganache! Be not afraid.”
But with a cry De Ganache put his hands to his face and turned aside. A woman began to sob amongst the spectators, and someone dropped a sword with an angry clash on the parquet. Once more the strident voices of the ushers arose, and after a little silence was restored.
De Mouchy was about to put yet another question when La Valentinois interposed.
”It is enough,” she said; ”I but wanted to confront them. Let him have his reward.”
De Mouchy smiled, and bending forward addressed De Ganache.
”Gaston de Ganache, Vicomte de Ganache and Les Barres, you stand convicted a heretic and traitor, and for crimes such as yours the laws of G.o.d and man have but one punishment. But bearing in mind the services you have rendered by denouncing your fellow-conspirators and discovering their secrets to the King's most trusty servants, Simon, Vidame d'Orrain, and myself, the King at the intercession of Madame the d.u.c.h.ess de Valentinois has in his gracious mercy spared your life on condition that you quit France within four and twenty hours. Monsieur, you are free.”
As these astonis.h.i.+ng words fell from the judge's lips--words that branded De Ganache with unutterable infamy--the miserable man looked around him like an animal at bay; and then, a madness coming upon him, he broke out into peal after peal of harsh, mirthless laughter--laughter that seemed to come from the grave and beyond; and, laughing thus, they led him away.
When he was gone De Mouchy pointed to Ferrieres as he said to a warder:
”Arouse him!”
They dragged the fainting man to his feet, and he stood limply between two gaolers; and then the judge asked:
”Prisoners, is there anything you would like to say?”
And mademoiselle answered for both, in a low but distinct voice:
”Nothing. We confess we are of the true faith, and we are willing to die for it. As to our having conspired against the King--we are innocent!”
And as she spoke some strange idea must have pa.s.sed through the wandering brain of Ferrieres. Half in delirium, he looked about him, and with a supreme effort, standing free of the warders, he called out in a loud, fever-strung voice:
”_Vive le Roi_!”