CHAPTER XXIV
SHOWS THAT BLOOD-STAINS CAN NEVER BE COMPLETELY
WASHED OUT
"Perrot knew nothing of what happened after that.
"When he came to himself, his first sensation was of bitter cold. Then he collected his thoughts, opened his eyes, and looked about him; it was still profoundly dark. He was lying on the moist earth, and a dead body lay beside him. By the light of the little lamp which is always burning in the recess of the image of the Virgin, he saw that he was in the Cemetery of the Innocents. The body that had been thrown down by his side was that of the guard who had been killed by Monsieur de Montgommery. They had undoubtedly supposed that my husband was dead.
"He tried to rise, but the terrible pain from his wounds prevented him. However, putting all his strength into an almost superhuman effort, he succeeded in standing up and taking a few steps. Just then the black darkness was relieved by the light of a lantern; and Perrot saw two evil-looking men approaching with spades and mattocks.
"'They told us we should find them at the foot of the image of the Virgin,' said one of them.
"'Here are the sparks,' said the other, spying the soldier. 'But, no, there's only one.'
"'Well, we must find the other, then.'
"The two grave-diggers turned the light of their lantern upon the ground near them; but Perrot had made shift to drag himself behind a tomb at some distance from the place where they were looking for him.
"'The Devil must have carried one man off,' remarked one of the men, who seemed to be in a joking mood.
"'In God's name, don't say such things,' cried the other, shuddering, 'at such an hour, and in such a place!'
"And he crossed himself, with every indication of terror.
"'Well, at all events, there's only one here,' said the first who had spoken. 'What's the odds? Bah! we will bury the one that is here, and then say that his friend had escaped; or it may be that they didn't count right.'
"They set about digging a grave; and Perrot, who was tottering away little by little, was glad to hear the jovial digger say to his companion,—
"'It has just occurred to me that if we admit that we found only one body, and dig only one grave, the man will give us only five pistoles, perhaps, instead of ten. Wouldn't it be better for our pockets to say nothing about this extraordinary escape of the second corpse?'
"'Yes, faith!' replied his devout companion. 'Let us content ourselves with saying that we have accomplished our task; and then we shall have told no lie.'
"Meanwhile, Perrot, faint as death, had got as far as Rue Aubry-le-Boucher. There he hailed a market gardener's wagon, returning from market, and asked the driver where he was going.
"'To Montreuil,' was the reply.
"'Then will you be kind enough to give me a lift as far as the corner of Rue Geoffroy L'Asnier and Rue St. Antoine, where I live?'
"'Get in,' said the gardener.
"In this way Perrot made the greater part of the journey to our lodgings without much fatigue; and yet ten times on the way he thought that he was dying. At last the wagon stopped at Rue Geoffroy L'Asnier.
"'Well, here you are at home, my friend,' said the gardener.
"'Thank you, my kind fellow!' said Perrot.
"He got down with much stumbling, and was obliged to lean against the first wall that he came to.
"'My comrade has had a little too much to drink,' remarked the peasant, starting up his horse.
"And away he went, singing the new chanson just written by Master François Rabelais, the jolly curé of Meudon:—
"'O Dieu, père Paterne,
Qui muas l'eau en vin,
Fais de mon cul lanterne
Pour luire à mon voisin!'[4]
"It took Perrot an hour to get from Rue St. Antoine to Rue des Jardins. Luckily the January nights are long. He didn't meet a soul, and arrived home about six o'clock.
"My anxiety had kept me all night at the open window, Monseigneur, notwithstanding the cold. At Perrot's first call I rushed to the door and opened it.
"'Not a sound, on your life!' were his first words to me. 'Help me up to my room, but not a cry, not a word!'
"He went upstairs, leaning on my arm; while I, seeing that he was wounded and bleeding, didn't dare to speak, because he had forbidden me, but wept silently. When we finally got to our room, and I had taken off his coat and relieved him of his weapons, the poor soul's blood covered my hands, and I saw the great gaping wounds. He forbade my cry of horror by a stern gesture, and assumed the easiest position possible on the bed.
"'At least, let me call a surgeon, for God's sake!' I sobbed.
"'Useless!' was his answer. 'You know that I have a little skill in surgery. One of my wounds at least—the one just below the neck—is mortal; and I should not be alive now, I think, if something stronger than pain had not sustained me, and if God, who punishes assassins and traitors, had not prolonged my life for a few hours to serve His future plans. Soon the fever will seize me, and all will be over. No physician in the world can prevent that.'
"He spoke with such painful effort that I begged him to rest a little.
"'I must do so,' said he, 'and carefully husband what strength I have. But give me writing materials.'
"I brought what he asked for; but he had not then discovered that a sword-cut had mangled his right hand. At his best it was a hard matter for him to write, so he threw pen and paper aside.
"'Well, then, I must speak,' said he; 'and God will let me live long enough to finish what I have to say. For if it should ever come to pass that He, the just and merciful God, should aim a blow at my master's three enemies, in their omnipotence or in their life, which are the perishable goods of the wicked, then Monsieur de Montgommery may be saved by his son.'
"Then, Monseigneur," continued Aloyse, "Perrot began and told me the whole mournful story which I have fully detailed to you. There were long and frequent interruptions; and when he felt too exhausted to continue, he told me to leave him, and go down and show myself to the people in the house. I pretended, and without much pretence either, to be very anxious about the count and my husband. I sent everybody to make inquiries at the Louvre, and among Monsieur le Comte de Montgommery's friends one by one, and then among his acquaintances. Madame de Poitiers sent word that she had not seen him, and Monsieur de Montmorency that he didn't understand why they came to bother him.
"So all suspicion was diverted from me, as Perrot wished; and his murderers might well believe that their secret was hidden in the master's dungeon and the squire's grave.
"When I had thus put the servants off the scent for some time, and had intrusted you to one of them, Monseigneur Gabriel, I went back to my poor Perrot, who bravely resumed his narrative.
"About midday the fearful agony which had racked him up to that time seemed to abate somewhat. He spoke with less difficulty and with some animation. But as I was taking heart over this improvement, he said to me, smiling mournfully,—
"'This apparent change for the better means simply that the fever is coming on, as I told you it would. But, God be praised! I have finished describing this frightful plot. Now you know what no other but God and these three assassins know; and your loyal heart, always steadfast and strong, will enable you, I am sure, to keep this secret of death and blood until the day when, as I hope and pray, you may reveal it to him who has the right to know it. You have heard the oath that Monsieur de Montgommery required of me; and you must repeat the same oath to me, Aloyse.
"'So long as it is dangerous for Gabriel to know that his father is living,—so long as the three all-powerful enemies who have slain my master shall be left in this world by God's wrath,—do you keep silent, Aloyse. Swear it to your dying husband.'
"Weeping, I swore it; and it is that sacred oath which I am now proving false to, Monseigneur, for your three foes, more powerful and more to be dreaded than ever, are still living. But you were about to die yourself; and if you make a wise and discreet use of my revelation, that which threatens to destroy you may be your father's salvation and yours. But tell me again, Monseigneur, that I have not committed an unpardonable sin, and that because of my good intentions, God and my dear Perrot will forgive my perjury."
"There is no perjury in all this, blessed creature," replied Gabriel; "and there has been throughout your conduct naught but heroic devotion. But tell me the rest! tell me the rest!"
"Perrot," continued Aloyse, "went on to say,—
"'When I shall be no more, dear wife, you will do wisely to close this house, dismiss the servants, and betake yourself to Montgommery with Gabriel and our child. And even at Montgommery don't live in the château, but in our little house; and bring up the heir of the noble counts, if not in absolute secrecy, still without any luxury or display, so that his friends may know him, and his enemies forget him. All our good people down yonder, both the intendant and the chaplain, will assist you in fulfilling the important duty which the Lord has put upon you. It would be much better that Gabriel himself until he is eighteen at least should be ignorant of the name he bears, but should know only that he is of gentle birth. You will see. Our worthy chaplain and Monsieur de Vimoutiers, the child's guardian, will assist you with their advice; but even from these loyal friends you must conceal the tale that I have told you. Confine yourself to saying that you fear that Gabriel may be in danger from his father's powerful enemies.'
"Perrot also gave me all manner of cautions, which he repeated in a thousand different forms until his suffering began again, accompanied by weakness which was no less grievous to look upon; and yet he employed every moment of comparative ease to cheer me up and comfort me.
"He also mentioned to me and made me promise one thing which required by no means the least display of energy on my part, I confess, and was not the least potent cause of suffering to me.
"'In Monsieur de Montmorency's mind,' said he, 'I am buried in the Cemetery of the Innocents; so I must have disappeared with the count. If any sign of my return here should be discovered, you would be lost, Aloyse, and Gabriel too, perhaps! But your arm is strong and your heart is brave. When you have closed my eyes, collect all the strength of your soul and body, wait till the middle of the night when everybody here is sound asleep after the labors of the day, and then take my body down into the old burial-vault of the lords of Brissac, to whom this hotel formerly belonged. No one ever enters that abandoned tomb; and you will find the key to it, all rusty, in the great clothes-press in the count's room. Thus I shall have consecrated burial; and although a simple squire may be unworthy to lie among so many great nobles, still after death we are all nothing but Christians, are we?'
"As my poor Perrot seemed to be growing weaken and insisted on having my word, I promised all that he asked. Toward evening he became delirious, and to that, frightful agony succeeded. I beat my breast in despair at my inability to relieve him; but he made a motion that it was of no avail.
"At last, burning up with fever, and racked by terrible agony, he said,—
"'Aloyse, give me some water,—just a drop.'
"I had already offered, in my ignorance, to give him something to quench the burning thirst from which he said he was suffering, but he had persistently declined it; so I hastened to find a glass, which I handed to him.
"Before he took it, he said,—
"'Aloyse, one last kiss and one last adieu! and remember; remember!'
"I covered his face with kisses and tears. Then he asked me for the crucifix, and placed his dying lips upon the nails of the cross of Jesus, saying only, 'Oh, mon Dieu! oh, mon Dieu!' He pressed my hand with a last trembling grasp, and took the glass which I offered him. He took but one swallow, trembled violently all over, and fell back upon the pillow.
"He was dead.
"I passed the rest of the evening praying and weeping. However, I went, as I usually did, to superintend your retiring, Monseigneur. You can well believe that no one wondered at my grief. Terror reigned in the house; and all the faithful servants were grieving over the probable fate of their master and their good comrade Perrot.
"However, about two in the morning, everything was quiet, and I alone was awake. I washed away the blood with which my husband's body was covered, wrapped it in a cloth, and putting myself in God's hands, I set about taking down the dear burden, which weighed still heavier at my heart than in my arms. When my strength gave out, I knelt by the body and prayed.
"At last, after what seemed an interminable half-hour, I reached the door of the vault. When I opened it, not without considerable difficulty, an icy blast came rushing out and extinguished the lamp which I carried, and almost suffocated me. But I revived speedily, and laid my husband's body in a tomb which was open and empty, and which seemed as if it were waiting to receive him; then having kissed his cold lips once more and for the last time, I let down the heavy marble slab, which separated me forever from the beloved husband of my bosom. The noise of the stone falling upon stone frightened me so that, scarcely taking time to close the door of the vault, I fled like a mad woman, and never stopped until I reached my own room, where I fell upon a chair, completely exhausted. However, it was necessary that I should burn up the bloody cloths and bandages before daybreak, so that they might not betray me. When the first ray of light appeared, my weary task was done, and not a single trace remained of the events of the preceding day and night. I had put everything out of sight with the great care displayed by a criminal who means to leave nothing to bear witness to or to recall his crime.
"But such long and wearisome toil prostrated me completely, and I fell ill. However, it was my duty to live for the sake of the two orphans whom Providence had intrusted to my sole protection; and I did live, Monseigneur."
"Poor woman! poor martyr!" said Gabriel, taking her hand in his.
"A month later," continued the nurse, "I carried you to Montgommery, in obedience to my husband's dying instructions.
"In the sequel it turned out as Monsieur de Montmorency had predicted. The inexplicable disappearance of the Comte de Montgommery and his squire made a noise at court for about a week; then the talk began to die out; and finally, the expected arrival of the Emperor Charles V., who was on his way through France to chastise the people of Ghent, became the universal subject of conversation.
"It was in May of the same year, five months after your father's disappearance, that Diane de Castro was born."
"Yes," rejoined Gabriel, thoughtfully; "and did Madame de Poitiers belong to my father? Did she love the dauphin after him or simultaneously?—sombre questions these, which cannot be answered satisfactorily by the slanderous gossip of an idle court. But my father is alive! He must be alive! And Aloyse, I will find him. There are two men living in me now,—a son and a lover, who will find a way to discover his living tomb."
"God grant it!" said Aloyse.
"And have you learned nothing since, nurse," said Gabriel, "as to the prison where these wretches may have buried my father?"
"Nothing, Monseigneur; and the only clew that we have on that point is the remark of Monsieur de Montmorency as reported by Perrot,—that the governor of the Châtelet was a devoted friend of his, and could be depended upon."
"The Châtelet!" cried Gabriel; "the Châtelet!"
For like a flash of lightning his memory brought before him all at once the gloomy, desolate old man, who might never utter a word, and whom he had seen with such a strange agitation of the heart, in one of the deepest dungeons of the royal prison.
Bursting into tears, Gabriel threw himself into the arms of his faithful and true-hearted nurse.
"Oh, God, our Heavenly Father,
Who changedst water to wine,
Make of my breech a lantern
To light this friend of mine!”