Volume Iii Part 12 (1/2)
”If you love me, Jean,” she whispered, ”let the women pa.s.s. Our chatelaine, remember, is among them.”
Boulot reflected for a moment, and the advice seemed good. ”I made a demand just now,” he said, ”which I see that those behind you consider just, and you treat me and this a.s.sembly with insult. Learn that the canaille can teach such as you a salutory lesson in behaviour. That the lives of many ladies are at stake gives us an immense advantage, but more generous than you we are prepared to waive it. Bring forth your women folk. Under my own charge they shall be conducted to a place of safety, the chateau of Lorge hard by. After that I will return, and man to man, repeat my just demand. If you then persist in refusing it, I shall wash my hands of the results.”
An important point was gained, and there was a movement of relief among the gentlemen. But stiff-necked old De Vaux could not bring himself civilly to accept a boon from what he considered the low sc.u.m.
”I rejoice,” he said, gruffly, ”that you should save yourself from the stigma of slaying women. We take your word that your mob will remain without and that the ladies shall pa.s.s unharmed. But I suppose you are not such a fool as to expect that I shall give up the marquis and his brothers?”
”This man who stands beside me, alas, is right,” Jean replied, sternly. ”Your vulture cla.s.s is infatuated and doomed to ruin, and calls down its own destruction. The besotted arrogant n.o.bles must indeed be crushed--trodden down wholesale.”
”Sir, you forget yourself,” stiffly remarked the baron.
”A last warning! You are playing with both property and life.”
”Advice from you? Merci! A peasant Jack in office!”
”I would save you if I could, but you are as vapouring and saucy as the rest.”
The gentlemen within disapproved highly of the conduct of old De Vaux.
What he deemed heroic--worthy of a Bayard or a Conde--they considered stupid and imprudent. What was to be gained by angering this man with so vast a concourse at his back? Some of the country squires, audibly expostulating, pulled at his legs and coat tails, to end a foolish colloquy.
The baron, therefore, brought his ill-timed taunts to an undignified conclusion, and declared that if the mob would make a way the ladies were ready to come forth.
Boulot removed his hat and bowed, and the baron, not to be outdone in the outward forms of courtesy, removed his own with a flourish and performed a low obeisance.
Meanwhile those at the back of the far-spreading throng who, unable to hear, considered that there was too much parleying, waxed savage. Was an hour to be wasted over a simple negociation which should not occupy six minutes? The deputy from Blois was being cozened, was not displaying sufficient firmness, was reprehensively lacking in decision. The women backed up the men, and, convinced by their own cackle, were garrulous. They were unanimous as to storming the place, displaying to the world by a signal example that the people were the real masters whose will was to be obeyed. Then there was a sway, and a scuffle, and a hubbub, as those in front were pushed back as those behind, and the wooden gates revolved upon their hinges. The miscreants at last! Ah! Now for it! Every hand was eager to take part in the coming vengeance--the trio should be torn into such tiny shreds that they should seem to have vanished into air. There was a forward rush which recoiled upon itself. Those who pushed behind could not comprehend what was pa.s.sing. Some twenty trembling women of the superior cla.s.s, judging by their flaunting garments, were being marshalled two and two, and Jean Boulot at their head on horseback was exhorting the people to make way. A long, low, growl of angry disappointment swept like a wind over the concourse, which might have swelled into a menacing roar, followed by the mischief of a hurricane, if a diversion had not been caused by the forlorn appearance of the White Chatelaine of Lorge, moving with obvious effort supported by her faithful foster-sister. How changed she was--how sadly wrecked her beauty. Her big long-lashed blue eyes wore the startled look of one who has seen a horror--the pupils were prominent and fixed--her motion was that of an old old woman partly paralysed. Her haggard features bore an eloquent impress of what she had undergone, and there was a pathos in her wandering groping movement that drew sobs from many a breast.
”There she is--there she is,” pa.s.sed from one to another in an awe-stricken whisper. ”G.o.d bless her, poor martyr! The kindest, n.o.blest woman in all the country round!”
Some, remembering kindly acts, stooped to kiss her robe as she tottered by--a mother whose dying infant she had saved by timely help--a wife whose husband she had tended.
It was well that Jean headed the cortege, exerting all his wit and his authority to force a safe pa.s.sage for the timid cohort. There was a rough fellow with a cart of firewood, who, from his eminence, contemplated the spectacle, broadly grinning. He and his cart Jean requisitioned, and packed the more weakly in it, for it occurred to him that the progress to Lorge would be far from rapid, and that he was leaving a dangerous element behind.
What an odd scene the open s.p.a.ce in front of Montbazon presented when Jean and his cortege were out of sight.
Being fairly pulled down from his heroic eminence by disapproving hands, De Vaux had mopped his brow, though the weather was chilly, observing, ”For a peasant, he's remarkably advanced. If all were so reasonable--but no--that is ridiculous.”
The ladies gone, their husbands and brothers asked their host what he proposed to do. Sentiment was sentiment, and all that, and duty, doubtless, was duty; but then there are a variety of ways of reading duty, which is not to be confounded with Quixotism.
Stout-souled De Vaux, who, in his excitement, felt quite young--wholly oblivious of a sciatic nerve--declared doggedly that he would not give up the miscreants. That peasant fellow was so amenable to argument on the part of a superior, that, on his return, he, the superior, would condescend to illuminate the situation. He would affably deign to explain that he could not for a moment pretend to approve of the trio.
The point of their dreadful wickedness was conceded. But he, De Vaux, could not, and would not, hand them over to lynch law, and it was, without a shadow of doubt, the duty of the Deputy of Blois to a.s.sist him in upholding the law. He, Jean Boulot, being so amenable to sensible argument, would at once fall in with his views. As he had escorted the ladies to Lorge, so would he succeed in piloting the baron and his prisoners to Blois, where, with decorum and order, the latter would be delivered to the authorities, that Justice might fulfil her office. To the baron it was as clear as ditchwater, and he was as steadfast as obstinacy could make him, ignoring the remark of a seigneur that this particularly enlightened peasant had made it a _sine qua non_ that the culprits should be handed to him.