Part 31 (1/2)

”G.o.d knows! Yet in mercy spare me! I am a woman,” and overcome with fear she cast herself at his feet. ”Spare me--spare me.”

”I do not understand you,” St. Georges said, looking down disdainfully at her. ”I think, too, you do not understand me. I wish to do only one thing now, to quit your presence and never set eyes on you again,” and without offering to a.s.sist her to her feet he backed toward the door.

But now--perhaps, because of the discovery that this man meant her no harm, intended to exact no horrible atonement from her--a revulsion of feeling took place in the woman's breast.

”No, no!” she cried, springing to her feet. ”No, no! Do not go--for G.o.d's sake do not attempt to quit the town yet! You will be lost--if you are seen--lost, lost! Ah, heavens!” she screamed, for at that moment there boomed a cannon from the _chateau_, ”the sunset gun! The sunset gun! It is too late!”

”What is too late?” he asked advancing toward her. ”What?” And as he spoke he seized her wrist. ”Woman, what do you mean? Is this some fresh plot, some new treachery? Answer me. Am I trapped--and by you?”

”No, no!” she wailed, afraid to tell what she had done, afraid that even now, ere the soldiers should come, he would strangle the life out of her, or thrust the sword he carried by his side through her heart.

”No, no! But it is known--they know--that you have been a _galerien_--you will be arrested! The mark upon your shoulder is known to the commandant.”

”How?” he said, again seizing her by the arm. ”How? Who knows it? Who?

Outside this house none can have seen it.”

”Come!” she replied, not daring to answer him; ”come, hide. They will look for you here. Yet I can secrete you till the search is over. For a week--months--if need be. Come.”

”They know I am here! Through _you_?”

”No, no! The mark was seen when you lay insensible--ah!” she screamed again. ”See, see! it is too late! They are in the garden. It is too late!”

It was true. Along the garden path to which the windows of her _salon_ opened, six soldiers were advancing led by a young officer. Across their shoulders were slung their muskets; the officer carried his drawn sword. And St. Georges looking from her to them knew that he was snared, his freedom gone. Doubtless his life, too.

”Devil,” he said to the woman as she reeled back to the lounge and fell heavily on it--”devil, I thanked you too soon. Had I known, dreamed of this, I would have slain you as you dreaded!”

CHAPTER x.x.x.

”IT IS TRUE.”

The windows of the _salon_ giving on to the crushed-sh.e.l.l path of the Hotel de Louvigny had been open all day to let in the air, and the handsomely apparelled young officer of the Regiment de Grance, stationed at Rambouillet, was enabled therefore to at once enter the room, leaving his men outside. Yet as he did so he seemed bewildered and astonished at the sight which met his eyes.

Lying fainting, gasping, on her couch was Madame de Louvigny--_la belle Louvigny_ as they called her, and toasted her nightly in the guardroom--standing over her was a man, white to the lips, his hands clinched, his whole form and face expressing horror and contempt.

”_Pardie!_” the young fellow muttered between his lips, ”I have interrupted a little scene, _un roman d'amour_! _Bon Dieu_ the lover has detected madame in some little infidelity, and--and--has had a moment of vivacity. Yet 'tis not my fault. _Devoir avant tout_,” and as he muttered the motto of the n.o.ble house to which he belonged--perhaps as an aid in that _devoir_--he advanced into the room after bidding his men remain where he had stationed them.

”Madame la baronne will pardon my untimely appearance,” he muttered in the most courtly manner, and with a comprehensive bow of much ease and grace which included St. Georges, ”but my orders were--what--madame herself knows. Otherwise I should regret even more my presence here.”

She, still on the lounge, her face buried in her Valenciennes handkerchief, was as yet unable to utter a word--_he_, standing before her, never removed his eyes from her. The officer's words had confirmed what he suspected--what he knew.

”But,” continued the lieutenant, ”madame will excuse. I have my orders to obey. The man she mentioned to the commandant has not yet endeavoured to pa.s.s the barrier--is it madame's desire that her house should be searched?”

She raised her head from the couch as he spoke, not daring to cast a glance at him whom she had betrayed to his doom. Then she said, her voice under no control and broken. ”No. He is not here. He--has escaped.”

”Escaped, madame? Impossible! Rambouillet is too small even for him to be in hiding--he----”

”Has not escaped,” St. Georges said, turning suddenly on the officer.

”On the contrary, he has been betrayed. I am the man.”