Part 55 (1/2)
”Who is this man?” inquired Coconnas, endeavoring to recollect, for it seemed to him he had seen that face during one of the crises of his fever.
”Your preserver, my dear friend,” replied La Mole; ”he who brought to you at the Louvre that refres.h.i.+ng drink which did you so much good.”
”Oho!” said Coconnas; ”in that case, my friend”--
And he held out his hand to him.
But the man, instead of returning the gesture, drew himself up and withdrew from the two friends just the distance occupied by the curve of his body.
”Sir!” he said to Coconnas, ”thanks for the honor you wish to confer on me, but it is probable that if you knew me you would not do so.”
”Faith!” said Coconnas, ”I declare that, even if you were the devil himself, I am very greatly obliged to you, for if it had not been for you I should be dead at this time.”
”I am not exactly the devil,” replied the man in the red cap; ”but yet persons are frequently found who would rather see the devil than me.”
”Who are you, pray?” asked Coconnas.
”Sir,” replied the man, ”I am Maitre Caboche, the executioner of the provostry of Paris”--
”Ah”--said Coconnas, withdrawing his hand.
”You see!” said Maitre Caboche.
”No, no; I will touch your hand, or may the devil fetch me! Hold it out”--
”Really?”
”Wide as you can.”
”Here it is.”
”Open it--wider--wider!”
And Coconnas took from his pocket the handful of gold he had prepared for his anonymous physician and placed it in the executioner's hand.
”I would rather have had your hand entirely and solely,” said Maitre Caboche, shaking his head, ”for I do not lack money, but I am in need of hands to touch mine. Never mind. G.o.d bless you, my dear gentleman.”
”So then, my friend,” said Coconnas, looking at the executioner with curiosity, ”it is you who put men to the rack, who break them on the wheel, quarter them, cut off heads, and break bones. Aha! I am very glad to have made your acquaintance.”
”Sir,” said Maitre Caboche, ”I do not do all myself; just as you n.o.ble gentlemen have your lackeys to do what you do not choose to do yourself, so have I my a.s.sistants, who do the coa.r.s.er work and despatch clownish fellows. Only when, by chance, I have to do with folks of quality, like you and your companion, for instance, ah! then it is another thing, and I take a pride in doing everything myself, from first to last,--that is to say, from the first putting of the _question_, to the decapitation.”
In spite of himself, Coconnas felt a shudder pervade his veins, as if the brutal wedge was pressing his leg--as if the edge of the axe was against his neck.
La Mole, without being able to account for it, felt the same sensation.
But Coconnas overcame the emotion, of which he was ashamed, and desirous of taking leave of Maitre Caboche with a jest on his lips, said to him:
”Well, master, I hold you to your word, and when it is my turn to mount Enguerrand de Marigny's gallows or Monsieur de Nemours's scaffold you alone shall lay hands on me.”
”I promise you.”