Part 18 (1/2)
”Hound!” she exclaimed, ”you apply that word to me? To me?”
”The woman speaks well,” St. Georges said, warding off the blow with his arm while his eye rested on her for a moment; ”it is a matter of killing. Either you or I have to be killed. To-night! Do you hear, or are you struck dumb with fear?”
”No,” the other replied, at last, with amazement. ”Who are you who, under a name I know not, dare to a.s.sault me thus with such opprobrious words? Nay,” turning to the masked woman, who was again muttering in his ear, ”have no fear. I will have his blood for it. If he is a gentleman with whom I can cross swords, we fight ere another hour pa.s.ses.”
”Also,” St. Georges broke in, ”you are, I perceive, a coward, besides the other things I have charged you with. You know who I am well enough. If not--if your memory is as treacherous as your courage seems poor, let me remind you. I am the man whom you attacked with five others at Aignay-le-Duc; the man whose child you sought to slay; the father of the child whom your woman and your man-servant seized away from one who had it in his possession, and whom they slew also, you not appearing on the scene. You are careful of yourself, Monsieur de Roquemaure! In the first treacherous attack you s.h.i.+elded your head as none other's head was s.h.i.+elded; in the second you employed a woman and a man-servant to do that which, perhaps, you feared to do yourself.”
Every word he uttered was studied insult, every word was weighed before it was delivered, subst.i.tuted for any other which rose to his lips if not deemed by him sufficiently galling. He had sworn to kill this man if ever he encountered him again, and he meant to kill him to-night now he had met him. Therefore, since he was resolved he should have no loophole of escape from crossing swords with him, he so phrased his remarks that he must fight or acknowledge himself the veriest poltroon that breathed.
”But,” he continued, ”if you still value your hide so much that you dare not meet me, now at once, tell me where you and this woman--if it be the same, as I suppose--have hidden my child; lead me to her, and then you shall go free. Only choose, and choose at once.”
He heard the woman mutter to De Roquemaure: ”Who is the woman he speaks of, who, Raoul?” while also he saw her eyes glisten again through the mask; then, as he strove to catch her companion's reply, that companion turned on him, and said:
”Monsieur St. Georges, as you term yourself, be very sure I intend to slay you to-night. I do not know you, but your insults to me and to--this--lady, although the utterances of a madman, have to be wiped out at once. As to the child you mention, and its kidnapping by a servant of mine and a woman--bah!--I know not of what you speak.”
”Do you deny that you are Monsieur de Roquemaure?”
”I neither deny nor a.s.sert. Under that name you have chosen to waylay and insult me. Under that name, since you will have it, I intend to have reparation.”
”Do you deny the a.s.sault at Aignay-le-Duc?”
”I deny nothing, a.s.sert nothing.”
”So be it,” St. Georges said. ”I have made no mistake. You _are_ the man. Your voice, your expression condemn you. Your face, though you have shaved off your beard”--and he saw the other start as he mentioned this--”condemns, convicts you. Deny, therefore, these two things or draw your sword. We have wasted enough time.”
”We have,” the other answered, and as he spoke he dismounted from his horse, St. Georges doing the same.
CHAPTER XVII.
”KILL HIM DEAD, RAOUL!”
The duel was not, however, to take place in the road, since at that moment, and when both men were preparing to draw their swords, the inn door opened and two persons came forth--one evidently the landlord, the other a customer to whom he was saying ”Good-night.” Then, as he was about to re-enter his house, he saw under the rays of the moon the three others in the road--the two men close together and the woman still mounted--and came forward toward them, peering inquiringly in front of him.
”Do messieurs and madame require any refreshment?” he asked, noticing that two of the company were well and handsomely dressed, while the third looked like an officer. ”My inn offers good accommodation for man and beast. Will monsieur and madame not enter?”
”Curse you, no!” De Roquemaure said; ”may we not tarry a moment on the road without being pestered thus? Begone, fellow, and leave us!”
But St. Georges interposed, saying:
”On the contrary, if you have a good room where we can rest awhile and this _n.o.ble lady_,” and he saw the woman's eyes sparkle--perhaps with hate!--as he spoke, ”can be fittingly received, we will enter. My horse has cast a shoe; have you a farrier near the house who can reshoe it? It can be done while we drink a bottle.”
”I am one myself,” the innkeeper replied. ”Monsieur may confide his horse to me. It is but a few moments' job, and the fire in the forge is still alive. As for the inn and the wine--_hein!_ both are good; I have a large room, and a bottle of Brecquiny fit for a king.”
”Lead us to it,” said St. Georges, ”then attend to the horse;” and as he spoke he threw the reins over the hook fixed in the tree by the mounting-block. ”Come,” he said, addressing De Roquemaure and the woman in a tone which would awaken no suspicion in the innkeeper's mind. ”Shall I a.s.sist madame to alight or will you?”
_Madame_, however, slipped off the horse by herself lightly enough, brus.h.i.+ng by St. Georges as she did so and whispering in his ear, ”If I could help him to kill you, I would!” and so they entered the inn, St. Georges going last. He was a cautious man, this _chevau-leger_, and he had seen the little stiletto--or wedding-knife, as it was called then--in her girdle; he did not want the owner of those savage, glistening eyes to stab him in the back. She looked capable of doing it, he thought, judging by the sparkle they made behind the mask, and of stabbing the innkeeper afterward to hide her guilt.
The man led them into a long, low, white-washed room at the end of a corridor--all three noticing that it was some distance from the inhabited part of the house, so that interruption was unlikely--a room in which a fire burnt low.
”Bring the wine,” St. Georges said to the man after he had lit the candles in their sconces, ”and be quick about it. We have no time to tarry here.”