Part 10 (2/2)
He raised me gently--there was no more knightly heart than his.
”Madame! It is not enemies that Henri de Bourbon needs, but friends.
It is not sorrow his presence would cause, but joy. There has been enough blood shed already in this miserable affair, and--I think it is my good de Rosny here who antic.i.p.ated me--all our prisoners are free, but there is some one here who will tell you the rest himself better than the Bearnnois can.” And, putting a kind hand on my shoulder, he faced me round to meet the eyes of de Lorgnac.
”I have come back unasked, Denise,” he said; but I could make no answer, and then he took me in his arms and kissed me before them all.
”A wedding present to the happy pair!” and something struck me lightly on the shoulder and fell at my feet. It was the glove that de Clermont had s.n.a.t.c.hed from me on the day of my marriage. ”I return a present from madame, given to me on her wedding day. It is no longer of use to me--Monsieur le Chevalier, will you not take it?” and de Clermont was before us, the same awful look in his eyes that I had seen there when he played with death before de Norreys.
De Lorgnac's arm dropped from my waist, and his bronzed face paled as he stood as if petrified, looking at the soft white glove at my feet.
Then with a voice as hard and stern as his look he turned to me, and pointing to the glove, said:
”Is this true, madame?”
”It is my glove,” was all I could say.
”And permit me to restore it to you,” cut in the King, and with a movement he lifted the glove and placed it in my husband's hand. ”Give it to her back, man! Madame de Canillac was at your wedding, and my good Margot who writes me such clever letters, and they have both told me the story of your marriage, and the incident of the glove. They both saw it s.n.a.t.c.hed from your wife's hand by M. le Marquis--Ventre St. Gris! For once I think a woman's gossip has done some good--and on the word of Navarre what I say is true. As for you, monsieur,” and Henri turned to de Clermont, ”Monsieur de Rosny here has my commands for you, and your further presence is excused.”
My husband's arm was round my waist once more; but de Clermont made no movement to go, standing quietly twisting his short blonde moustache.
”Monsieur, you have heard his Majesty,” put in de Rosny.
”Yes--I thought, however, that Monsieur de Lorgnac might have a word to say ere I went.”
”That will be in another place, and over our crossed swords, Monsieur le Marquis,” replied my husband, heedless of my entreating look and gesture, and in as cold and measured a voice as de Clermont's.
”I am at your service, monsieur, when and wherever you please,” and with this, and a formal bow to the King, he pa.s.sed from the room--a man under G.o.d's right arm of justice.
What happened I never was able to find out exactly; but as far as I could gather it was this. As already mentioned, la Coquille, Lalande, and Pierre had been released by Navarre on his coming, and the former being faint from his wounds was resting on a wooden bench in the courtyard. As de Clermont pa.s.sed, the sight of la Coquille and the memory of the insult he had put on him roused the haughty n.o.ble, already in a white heat with rage, to madness, and he struck the freelance once, twice, across the face with a light cane he bore in his hand, and fell a moment after stabbed to the heart, his murderer being cut down by the men-at-arms.
At once all was hurry and confusion. The dying man was borne in as gently as he could be, and placed on a settle. There was no leech in hand, and long before the priest of Lorgnac came it was all over. We did what we could, and in the horror of the fate that had overtaken this man in the pride of strength I forgot the past utterly. I could only see a terrible suffering for which there was no relief. We gathered, an awestruck group, around him, and he spoke no word at first, but suddenly called out, ”Hold me up--I choke!”
Some one--I afterwards found it was Tremblecourt--raised him slightly and he spoke again, ”De Lorgnac! Say what you have to say now, I'm going.”
And Blaise de Lorgnac knelt by the couch, saying as he did so:
”I have no message now--forget my words, de Clermont.”
”Would to G.o.d I had died by your hand,” came the answer, ”but to go like this--struck down like a dog. Your hand, de Lorgnac--yours, Denise--quick--I am going. Forgive.”
De Tremblecourt laid him softly back on the cus.h.i.+on, and my tears fell fast on the cold hand I held in mine. Who could remember wrongs at such a moment?
The King bent over him and whispered in his ear. I thought I heard the word ”pray,” and a wan smile played on the lips of the dying man.
”Too late--I cannot cringe now. Ah! Norreys! I will join you soon.
Denise--pardon,” and he was gone.
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