Part 41 (1/2)

”Montignac,” he cried, keeping his eyes fixed on mine, ”if this man makes a move, kill the woman!”

In his situation of peril, his mind had become agile. He had suddenly perceived how things were between mademoiselle and me.

As I have shown, Montignac stood with mademoiselle at some distance from La Chatre and myself. I dared not take my eye from the governor, lest he should step out of reach of my sword; but I could hear Montignac quickly unsheathe his dagger, and mademoiselle give a sharp e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n of pain.

Then I turned my head for a moment's glance, and saw that he had caught her wrist in a tight grasp, and that he held his dagger ready to plunge it into her breast.

For a short time we stood thus, while I considered what to do next. It was certain that Montignac would obey the governor's order, if only out of hatred for me and in revenge on her for his despised love, though he might fall by my sword a moment later. Therefore, I did not dare go to attack him any more than I dared attack La Chatre. The governor, of course, would not let her be killed unless I made some hostile movement, for if she were dead nothing could save him from me, unless help came. He feared to call for help, I suppose, lest rather than be taken I should risk a rush at Montignac, and have himself for an instant at my mercy, after all.

I cast another glance at Montignac, and measured the distance from me to him, to consider whether I might reach him before he could strike mademoiselle. La Chatre must have divined my thought, for he said:

”Montignac, I will deal with this gentleman. Take mademoiselle into that chamber and close the door.” And he pointed to the door immediately behind mademoiselle, the one by which I had first seen her enter.

”But, monsieur--” began Montignac.

”I had not quite finished, Montignac,” went on La Chatre. ”I have my reason for desiring you and the lady to withdraw. Fear not to leave me with him. Lame as I am, I am no match for him, it is true, but mademoiselle shall continue to be a hostage for his good behavior.”

”I understand,” said Montignac, ”but how shall I know--?”

”Should M. de la Tournoire make one step towards me,” said the governor,--here he paused and took up the hunting-horn and looked at it, but presently dropped it and pointed to the bowl of fruit on the table near the fireplace,--”I shall strike this bowl, thus.” He struck the bowl with his stick, and it gave forth a loud, metallic ring, like that previously produced by Montignac's dagger from the tray on the other table. ”The voice is not always to be relied on,” continued the governor.

”Sometimes it fails when most needed. But a sound like this,” and he struck the bowl again, ”can be made instantly and with certainty. Should you hear one stroke on the bowl,--one only, not followed quickly by a second stroke,--let mademoiselle pay for the rashness of her champion!”

”Yes, monsieur,” replied Montignac, a kind of diabolical triumph in his voice.

”It may be,” said La Chatre, ”that no such violent act will be necessary, and that I shall merely require your presence here. In that case, I shall strike twice rapidly, thus. Therefore, when you hear a stroke, wait an instant lest there be a second stroke. But if there be no second, act as I have told you.”

”After you, mademoiselle,” said Montignac, indicating by a motion his desire that she should precede him backward out of the chamber. He still clutched her arm and held his dagger aloft, intending thus to back out of the room after her.

”I will not go!” she answered, trying to resist the force that he was using on her arm.

This was the first resistance she had offered She had previously stood motionless beneath his lifted dagger, feeling herself unable to break from his grasp of iron, and supposing that any effort to do so would bring down the dagger into her delicate breast. A woman's instinctive horror of such a blow deterred her from the slightest movement that might invite it. She had trusted to me for what action might serve to save us from our enemies. But now her terror of leaving my presence, and her horror of being alone with Montignac, overcame her fear of the dagger. ”I will not go!” she repeated.

”Go, mademoiselle,” said I, gently, taking her glove from my belt, where I had placed it, and kissing it, to show that I was still her devoted chevalier. ”Go! 'Tis the better way.” For I welcomed any step that might take Montignac from the chamber, and leave La Chatre's wit unaided to cope with mine.

Her eyes showed submission, and she immediately obeyed the guidance of Montignac's hand. Facing me still, he went out after her, and closed the door.

I was alone with La Chatre.

”My secretary stood a little too near the point of your sword,” said the governor, ”for the perfect security of my hostage. There was just a possibility of your being too quick for him. I saw that you were contemplating that possibility. As it is now, should I give him the signal,--as I shall if you move either towards me or towards that chamber,--he could easily put mademoiselle out of the way before you could open the door. Not that I desire harm to mademoiselle. Her death would not serve me at all It would, indeed, be something that I should have to deplore. If I should deplore it, how much more would you! And since you surely will not be so ungallant as to cause the death of so charming a lady, I think I have you, let us say, at a slight disadvantage!” And he sat down beside the table near the fireplace.

”I think not so, monsieur,” said I, touching lightly with my sword's point the tray on the table near the bed; ”for should you strike once on your bowl, I should very quickly strike once on this tray, so that two strokes would be heard, and the obedient Montignac, mindful of his orders, would enter this chamber, _not_ having slain mademoiselle.”

I ought not to have disclosed this, my advantage. I ought rather to have summoned Montignac by two strokes on the tray, and been at the door to receive him. But I had not waited to consider. I spoke of the advantage as soon as I noticed it, supposing that La Chatre, on seeing it, would think himself at my mercy and would come to my terms. He was taken back somewhat, it is true, but not much.

”Pah!” he said ”After all, I could shout to him.”

”It would be your last shouting. Moreover, your shouted orders would be cut off unfinished, and the punctilious Montignac would be left in doubt as to your wishes. Rather than slay mademoiselle on an uncertainty, he would come hither to a.s.sure himself,--in which case G.o.d pity him!”

”Thank you for your warning, monsieur,” said La Chatre, with mock courtesy. ”There shall be no shouting.”