Under the Red Robe by Stanley John Weyman (trending books to read .txt) 📖

‘I am afraid that the ragout is cold,’ I continued, peering into the dish and affecting to see nothing. ‘The soup, however, has been kept hot by the fire. But I think that you do not see Madame.’

He opened his mouth to swear, but for the moment he thought better of it.

‘Who—who put my boots in the passage?’ he asked, his voice thick with rage. He did not bow to the ladies, or take any notice of their presence.

‘One of the men, I suppose,’ I said indifferently. ‘Is anything missing?’

He glared at me. Then his cloak, spread outside, caught his eye. He strode through the door, saw his holsters lying on the grass, and other things strewn about. He came back.

‘Whose monkey game is this?’ he snarled, and his face was very ugly. ‘Who is at the bottom of this? Speak, sir, or I—’

‘Tut-tut,—the ladies!’ I said. ‘You forget yourself, Monsieur.’

‘Forget myself?’ he hissed, and this time he did not check his oath. ‘Don’t talk to me of the ladies! Madame? Bah! Do you think, fool, that we are put into rebel’s houses to bow and smile and take dancing lessons?’

‘In this case a lesson in politeness were more to the point, Monsieur,’ I said sternly. And I rose.

‘Was it by your orders that this was done?’ he retorted, his brow black with passion. Answer, will you?’

‘It was!’ I replied outright.

‘Then take that!’ he cried, dashing his hat violently in my face, ‘and come outside.’

‘With pleasure, Monsieur,’ I answered, bowing; ‘in one moment. Permit me to find my sword. I think that it is in the passage.’

I went thither to get it.

When I returned, I found that the two men were waiting for me in the garden, while the ladies had risen from the table, and were standing near it with blanched faces.

‘You had better take your sister upstairs, Mademoiselle,’ I said gently, pausing a moment beside them. ‘Have no fear. All will be well.’

But what is it?’ she answered, looking troubled. ‘It was so sudden. I am—I did not understand. You quarrelled so quickly.’

‘It is very simple,’ I answered, smiling. ‘M. le Capitaine insulted you yesterday; he will pay for it to-day. That is all. Or, not quite all,’ I continued, dropping my voice and speaking in a different tone. ‘His removal may help you, Mademoiselle. Do you understand? I think that there will be no more searching to-day.’ She uttered an exclamation, grasping my arm and peering into my face.

‘You will kill him?’ she muttered.

I nodded.

‘Why not?’ I said.

She caught her breath, and stood with one hand clasped to her bosom, gazing at me with parted lips, the blood mounting to her checks. Gradually the flush melted into a fierce smile.

‘Yes, yes, why not?’ she repeated between her teeth. ‘Why not?’ She had her hand on my arm, and I felt her fingers tighten until I could have winced. ‘Why not? So you planned this—for us, Monsieur?’

I nodded.

‘But can you?’

‘Safely,’ I said; then, muttering to her to take her sister upstairs, I turned towards the garden. My foot was already on the threshold, and I was composing my face to meet the enemy, when I heard a movement behind me. The next moment her hand was on my arm.

‘Wait! Wait a moment! Come back!’ she panted. I turned. The smile and flush had vanished; her face was pale. ‘No!’ she said abruptly. ‘I was wrong! I, will not have it. I will have no part in it! You planned it last night, M. de Barthe. It is murder.’

‘Mademoiselle!’ I exclaimed, wondering. ‘Murder? Why? It is a duel.’

‘It is murder,’ she answered persistently. ‘You planned it last night. You said so.’

‘But I risk my own life,’ I replied sharply.

‘Nevertheless—I will have no part in it,’ she answered more faintly. She was trembling with agitation. Her eyes avoided mine.

‘On my shoulders be it then!’ I replied stoutly. ‘It is too late, Mademoiselle, to go back. They are waiting for me. Only, before I go, let me beg of you to retire.’

And I turned from her, and went out, wondering and thinking. First, that women were strange things. Secondly—MURDER? Merely because I had planned the duel and provoked the quarrel! Never had I heard anything so preposterous. Grant it, and dub every man who kept his honour with his hands a Cain—and a good many branded faces would be seen in some streets. I laughed at the fancy, as I strode down the garden walk.

And yet, perhaps, I was going to do a foolish thing. The Lieutenant would still be here: a hard-bitten man, of stiffer stuff than his Captain. And the troopers. What if, when I had killed their leader, they made the place too hot for me, Monseigneur’s commission notwithstanding? I should look silly, indeed, if on the eve of success I were driven from the place by a parcel of jack-boots.

I liked the thought so little that I hesitated. Yet it seemed too late to retreat. The Captain and the Lieutenant were waiting for me in a little open space fifty yards from the house, where a narrower path crossed the broad walk, down which I had first seen Mademoiselle and her sister pacing. The Captain had removed his doublet, and stood in his shirt leaning against the sundial, his head bare and his sinewy throat uncovered. He had drawn his rapier and stood pricking the ground impatiently. I marked his strong and nervous frame and his sanguine air: and twenty years earlier the sight might have damped me. But no thought of the kind entered my head now, and though I felt with each moment greater reluctance to engage, doubt of the issue had no place in my calculations.

I made ready slowly, and would gladly, to gain time, have found some fault with the place. But the sun was sufficiently high to give no advantage to either. The ground was good, the spot well chosen. I could find no excuse to put off the man, and I was about to salute him and fall to work when a thought crossed my mind.

‘One moment!’ I said. ‘Supposing I kill you, M. le Capitaine, what becomes of your errand here?’

‘Don’t trouble yourself;’ he answered with a sneer he had misread my slowness and hesitation. ‘It will not happen, Monsieur. And in any case the thought need not harass you. I have a Lieutenant.’

‘Yes, but what of my mission?’ I replied bluntly. ‘I have no lieutenant.’

‘You should have thought of that before you interfered with my boots,’ he retorted with