CHAPTER XXI
LOVE DISDAINED
Lord Wentworth believed himself to be sure of two things: in the first place, that two full hours would elapse before Calais would capitulate, and that Lord Derby would demand at least five hours before delivering up the city; in the second place, he was confident that he should find his house entirely unoccupied, for he had taken the precaution to send off all his people to the breach in the morning. André, Madame de Castro's French page, had been imprisoned by his orders; so that Diane must be alone in the mansion, except for one or two of her women.
In truth he did find everything deserted as the abode of the dead, as he went into the house; while Calais, like a body from which the life-blood is ebbing away, was gathering all her force for a final struggle at the spot where fighting was in progress.
Lord Wentworth, gloomy, savage, and in a measure drunken with despair, went directly to the apartments occupied by Madame de Castro.
He did not send in his name, as his custom had been, but entered brusquely, like a master, the room where she was sitting with one of the maids who had been furnished her.
Without any salutation to the wondering Diane, he said imperiously to the maid,—
"Leave the room at once! The French will be in the city this evening, and I have neither the time nor the power to protect you. Go and find your father; your place is with him. Go at once, and tell the two or three women who are left in the house that I wish them to do the same without loss of time."
"But, my Lord—" the maid remonstrated.
"Ah!" returned the governor, stamping his foot angrily; "did you not hear what I said? I wish it!"
"But, my Lord—" Diane began.
"I have said, 'I wish it!' Madame," replied Lord Wentworth, with a gesture of inflexible determination. The maid left the room in terror.
"Truly, I should not have known you, my Lord," said Diane, after an agonizing silence.
"It is because you have never before seen me in the guise of a vanquished man, Madame," rejoined Lord Wentworth, with a bitter smile. "You have been a farseeing prophet of ruin and disaster for me; and I was in truth an insensate fool not to believe you. I am beaten, absolutely beaten, beyond resource and beyond hope. So you may rejoice."
"Is the success of the French at this point really beyond question?" asked Diane, who could with difficulty conceal her pleasure.
"How can it be otherwise, Madame? The Nieullay and Risbank forts and the Old Château are in their power. They have the city between three fires, and Calais is theirs beyond cavil. So you may rejoice."
"Oh!" Diane rejoined, "with such a foe as you, my Lord, victory is never certain; and in spite of myself,—yes, I confess, and you will understand me,—in spite of myself I still am incredulous."
"But Madame," cried Lord Wentworth, "do you not see that I have left the field; that after having taken part in the battle to the very last, I could not make up my mind to witness the final catastrophe, and that is why I am here? Lord Derby will surrender in an hour and a half. In that time, Madame, the French will enter Calais in triumph, and Vicomte d'Exmès with them. So you may rejoice."
"You say that in such a strange way, my Lord, that I do not know whether I ought to believe you or not," said Diane, who was beginning to hope nevertheless; so that her expression and her involuntary smile were illumined by the thought of deliverance.
"In order to persuade you, then, Madame," rejoined Lord Wentworth,—"for I mean to persuade you,—I will adopt another manner of speaking, and I will say to you: Madame, in an hour and a half the French will enter the city in triumph, and Vicomte d'Exmès with them. Tremble!"
"What do you mean?" cried Diane, as the color fled from her cheeks.
"What! Am I not sufficiently explicit?" said Lord Wentworth, approaching Diane with a laugh of sinister meaning. "I say to you: In an hour and a half, Madame, our rôles will be changed,—you will be free, and I a prisoner; Vicomte d'Exmès will come to restore you to liberty and love and happiness, and to cast me into a dungeon. Tremble!"
"Why, pray, should I tremble?" Diane responded, retreating as far as the walls would allow from the sombre yet burning gaze of this man.
"Mon Dieu! it is very easy to understand," said Lord Wentworth. "At this moment I am master; but in an hour and a half I shall be a slave,—in an hour and a quarter rather, for the minutes are flying. In an hour and a quarter I shall be in your power; now you are in mine. In an hour Vicomte d'Exmès will be here; but now I am here. So rejoice and tremble, Madame!"
"My Lord, my Lord!" cried poor Diane, repulsing Lord Wentworth, with rapidly beating heart. "What do you want of me?"
"What do I want of you!—of you!" said the governor in a hollow voice.
"Don't come near me, or I will cry out; I will call for help, and dishonor you, villain!" exclaimed Diane, in an ecstasy of terror.
"Cry out and call for help as much as you choose; it's all the same to me," Lord Wentworth rejoined with ominous tranquillity. "The house is deserted, and so are the streets; no one will answer your cries for at least an hour. Look! I have not even taken the trouble to close the doors and windows, so sure am I that no one will come in less than an hour."
"But they will at the end of that time," Diane retorted; "and then I will accuse and denounce you, and my deliverers will kill you."
"No," said Lord Wentworth, coldly, "for it is I who will kill myself. Do you imagine that I have any desire to survive the fall of Calais? In an hour I shall kill myself; I have made up my mind beyond recall. But before that I choose to give full play to my passion, and to satisfy my vengeance and my love in this last supreme hour. Come, my fair one, your resistance and your contempt are out of season now,—for I no longer beg, but command; I no longer implore, but demand."
"And I die!" cried Diane, drawing a knife from her bosom.
Before she had time to strike, Lord Wentworth sprang toward her, seized her weak little hands in his powerful ones, tore the knife from her grasp, and threw it far away.
"Not yet!" he cried, with a smile of terrible import; "I do not choose, Madame, that you should turn your hand against yourself yet. Afterward you may do as you choose; and if you prefer to die with me rather than live with him, you will be quite at liberty to do so. But this last hour,—for there is only an hour left now,—this last hour of your life belongs to me; I have but this hour in which to make amends to myself for the eternity of hell to come hereafter; so be very sure that I will not renounce my right."
He attempted to lay hold of her. Thereupon fainting, and feeling that her strength was forsaking her, she threw herself at his feet.
"Mercy, my Lord!" she cried, "mercy, I ask mercy and forgiveness on my knees! By the memory of your mother, remember that you are a gentleman."
"A gentleman!" retorted Lord Wentworth, shaking his head; "yes, I was a gentleman, and I so bore myself, I think, so long as I triumphed and hoped,—yes, so long as I lived. But now I am no longer a gentleman; I am simply a man,—a man who is about to die, and proposes first to be revenged."
He raised Madame de Castro, kneeling at his feet, and held her close in a passionate embrace. She tried to pray, or to cry out, but she could not.
At this moment a great uproar was heard in the street.
"Ah!" Diane succeeded in ejaculating, her eye kindling once more with a ray of hope.
"Good!" said Wentworth, with a demoniac laugh; "it seems that the people are beginning to plunder on their own account while waiting for the enemy. So be it! They are doing quite right, upon my word! It is for the governor to set the example."
"Mercy!" she managed to say once more.
"No, no!" was Lord Wentworth's response. "You are too beautiful."
She swooned.
But the governor had not even had time to kiss Diane's colorless lips, when the uproar came nearer.
Vicomte d'Exmès, the two Peuquoys, and three or four French archers burst violently through the doorway and appeared upon the threshold.
Gabriel fairly leaped upon Lord Wentworth, sword in hand, with a terrible cry.
"Villain!"
Lord Wentworth, with clenched teeth, also seized his sword which was lying upon a chair.
"Stand back!" said Gabriel to his companions, who were about to intervene. "It is my pleasure to punish the infamous scoundrel with my own hand."
Without another sound the two adversaries furiously crossed weapons.
Pierre and Jean Peuquoy and their companions took up positions so as to give them ample space, and remained silent but by no means indifferent spectators of this deadly combat.
Diane was still lying unconscious upon the couch.
Let us tell in a few words how this providential succor had come to the defenceless prisoner so much sooner than Lord Wentworth had anticipated.
Pierre Peuquoy, during the two preceding days, had, as he had promised Gabriel, aroused and armed all those who were in secret devoted to the French cause. The ultimate victory being no longer doubtful, this class had naturally become much more numerous. They were for the most part circumspect and cautious burghers, who were unanimous in thinking that since they no longer had any means of offering resistance, the best course was to arrange for capitulation on the most favorable terms that could be obtained.
The armorer, who did not want to strike the final blow until it was perfectly safe to do so, waited until his strength was sufficiently great, and the siege far enough advanced, to run no risk of uselessly exposing the lives of those who relied on him. As soon as the Old Château was taken, he determined to act. But it took him some time to assemble his fellow-conspirators, who were scattered all over the city; and it was just as Lord Wentworth left the breach, that the movement within the city made itself felt.
But it was the more irresistible in proportion as it had been slow of development.
In the first place, the penetrating blast of Pierre Peuquoy's horn had brought, as if by magic, Vicomte d'Exmès, Jean, and half of their men, rushing out of the Risbank fort. The feeble detachment which kept the walls at that point was speedily disarmed, and the gate opened to the French.
Thereupon the whole Peuquoy faction, increased by this reinforcement, and emboldened by their first easily won success, hastened to the breach, where Lord Derby was trying to make as gallant a struggle as possible.
When this sort of revolt thus left Lord Wentworth's lieutenant between two fires, what was there for him to do? The French flag had already been brought into Calais by Vicomte d'Exmès. The city militia had risen, and were threatening to open the gates to the besiegers. Lord Derby preferred to yield at once. It was only to anticipate the governor's orders by a few moments, and to avoid another hour and a half of profitless resistance, even if this resistance should not become impossible, which would make the defeat no less complete, and might lead to more cruel reprisals.
Lord Derby sent a flag of truce to the Duc de Guise.
That was all that Gabriel and the Peuquoys asked for the nonce. They remarked the absence of Lord Wentworth, and were alarmed at it. So they left, where a few dropping shots were still to be heard, and spurred on by a presentiment of evil, they hastened to the governor's residence, with two or three trusty soldiers.
All the doors were open, and they found no difficulty in making their way to Madame de Castro's apartments, whither Gabriel hurried them on.
It was full time; and the sword of Diane's lover came most opportunely to protect the daughter of Henri II. from a most base and cowardly assault.
The duel between Gabriel and the governor was of short duration. The two combatants seemed to be equally expert swordsmen. Both showed equal coolness in a like state of fury. Their blades were entwined together like two serpents, and crossed and recrossed with the rapidity of lightning.
However, after two minutes fencing, Lord Wentworth's sword was struck from his hand by a vigorous counter on Gabriel's part.
In crouching to avoid the stroke, Lord Wentworth slipped upon the floor and fell.
Anger, scorn, hatred, and all the violent emotions which were struggling in Gabriel's heart left no room for generosity. There was no quarter for such a foe. In an instant he was upon him, with his sword at his breast.
There was not one of those who were present at the scene, inflamed as they were with indignation so lately aroused, who would have cared to stay the avenging hand.
But Diane de Castro while the fight was in progress had had time to recover from her swoon.
As she raised her heavy eyelids she saw and understood all, and rushed between Gabriel and Lord Wentworth.
By an extraordinary coincidence, the last word she had uttered as she fainted was the first upon her lips when she regained consciousness.
"Mercy!"
She prayed for mercy for the very man to whom she had herself prayed in vain.
Gabriel, at the sight of his idolized Diane, and the sound of her omnipotent voice, no longer was sensible of anything except her gentleness and his love for her. In his heart rage at once gave way to clemency.
"Do you wish him to live, Diane?" he asked his beloved.
"I beg it of you, Gabriel," said she; "for ought we not to give him time to repent?"
"So be it!" said the young man; "let the angel save the demon's life,—it is her proper role."
And still keeping Lord Wentworth, boiling with rage, under his knee, he said quietly to the Peuquoys and the archers,—
"Come here and bind this man while I hold him; then you can imprison him in his own dwelling until Monsieur de Guise determines his fate."
"No! kill me, kill me!" cried Lord Wentworth, struggling furiously.
"Do as I say!" said Gabriel, without loosing his hold. "I begin to think that life will be a greater burden to him than death."
Gabriel's orders were obeyed; and Lord Wentworth struggled and fumed and threatened in vain, for he was gagged and bound in an instant. Then two or three of the men took the ex-governor of Calais in their arms and carried him off, without ceremony.
Gabriel then turned to Jean Peuquoy, and said to him in his cousin's hearing,—
"My friend, I have already told Martin-Guerre the extraordinary story of his impersonation in your presence. You then deplored the cruel error which led to the punishment of an innocent man; and you asked for nothing better, I know, than to relieve as speedily as possible the terrible suffering he is at this moment undergoing for another. Do me a favor then—"
"I can guess what it is," brave Jean interrupted. "You desire me, do you not, to seek one Ambroise Paré, who may be able to save your poor squire? I fly to do it; and that he may be the better cared for, I will have him taken at once to our house, if it can be done without endangering his life."
Pierre Peuquoy, in a sort of stupefaction, listened to Gabriel and his cousin, and looked from one to the other, as if he was dreaming.
"Come, Pierre," said Jean, "you will help me in this. Oh! of course you are astonished, and do not understand; but I will explain everything to you as we go along, and I shall have no difficulty in making you see the matter as I now do; and then you will be the very first one—for I know you well—to wish to repair the wrong which you have unwittingly committed."
Thereupon, after saluting Diane and Gabriel, Jean left the room with Pierre, who had already begun to ask questions.
When Madame de Castro was left alone with Gabriel, she fell on her knees in the first impulse of pious gratitude, and raising her eyes and her hands toward heaven and to him who had been the instrument of her salvation,—
"I thank Thee, O God!" said she; "thrice over I thank Thee, for having saved me, and for having saved me by his hand!”
