I have suffered much. I shall be content to die if I can serve my King here a little after all these years of weary waiting. The t.i.tle-deeds that young man gave back do not cover much. The estate has been divided and granted to strangers. It is practically all gone but the old chateau. I have little or nothing to leave you beyond those small amounts which your father used to send me, which I never would touch because they came from a disloyal France. The Yeovils are true and worthy people. The boy is a gallant lad, a brave soldier, even if not overly acute. Sir Gervaise is a man of consideration and of great wealth. You are portionless. He is most generous. I am very happy in the thought that you will be taken care of. I know what it is to be alone and poor."
"I cannot bear----"
"We have to bear a great many things that we do not wish to in this life. You owe me some consideration. I still retain my faith and confidence in you. I have not pressed you to the wall with hard questions about last night."
"I know, I know, but----"
"And, as the head of the house, I must have even from the children the obedience which is my due."
"I do not wish to fail in my duty toward you, monsieur, but----"
"And your word, the word of a d"Aumenier, has been plighted. You entered into this engagement of your own free will. There was no constraint."
"But there was pressure."
"Yes, certainly, I know what is best for you, but you were not forced in any way, and your troth, having been plighted, your word given"--the old man stopped, looked at her solemnly, his long fingers tapping lightly on the table--"it must be kept," he said, with that air of absolute finality which none could a.s.sume better than he.
"It shall be, although it kills me."
"If I live I shall see that it is; and if I die I have your promise?"
"You have."
"That is well. You will live to thank me and bless me. I have fancied, of late, that your heart had been allowed to decline a little to this Marteau. Oh, he is a brave man and true, I know. I take no stock in his confession of theft or a.s.sault upon you. Why, I would have cut him down where he stood, or have him kill me if I believed that! But he is of another race, another blood. The Eagle does not stoop to the barnyard fowl. The heart of a woman is a strange thing.
It leads her in strange ways if she follows its impulses. Thank G.o.d there are men who can and will direct and control those impulses. Put him out of your mind. It is best. To-morrow he will be a dead man.
At any rate, I am rather glad of that," said the Marquis, half reflectively, knowing what trouble he might have made if he were to be allowed to live on. It was cold-blooded, but he could sacrifice Marteau for his niece"s happiness, and find abundant justification in the annals of his house, where he could read of many Marteaux who had been sacrificed or had sacrificed themselves for the d"Aumeniers.
"I--I will promise," faltered the girl, "but on one condition."
"I like it not when youth makes conditions with age. Nevertheless, what is in your mind?"
"I want to see Marteau again."
"Impossible!"
"Wait," said the woman quickly. "Is it not true, have I not heard that he is condemned outwardly because he brought an Eagle here and it is gone?"
"Yes, that is true."
"And has it not been said that if he produced the Eagle his life could be spared and he could go?"
"That is also true."
"And would it not allay the dissatisfaction of the regiment and contribute to the establishment of your authority if he gave it up?"
"My authority is established by the King."
"The maintenance of it, then. Would it not enable you to control and hold in check these people, if you could show that you had not been balked?"
"That may be," said the Marquis. "Go on."
"And, if he should produce the Eagle----"
"I would save his life, but he would be a discredited man among his comrades, if I know anything about it."
"Oh, not that, surely."
"Surely; and I may tell you that if I were in his place I would do exactly as he has done."
The woman stepped nearer and put her hand to her head.
"Nevertheless, I must see him. Have mercy!" she entreated piteously.
"Why? Do you think you can persuade him to produce the Eagle--to his discredit, be it remembered?" asked the old man, surveying her keenly, realizing at last the extraordinary interest she took in Marteau.
"But it is his life if he does not."
"Do you care so much for--his life?"
"Yes," answered the woman, looking the Marquis straight in the eyes.
He recognized a will as inflexible as his own. It aroused his admiration. He arose to his feet. He bowed before her.
"Mademoiselle," he said firmly, "you have the strength of our house.
Perhaps it might be well if he could be induced to produce the Eagle and be thus discredited in the eyes of his comrades. It would tend to make my authority more secure. It would be to the advantage of the King."
"Yes, yes."
"But what argument can you bring?"
"I--I do not know."
"Alas, my child, you know more than you will tell. Oh, I recognize that it is useless to appeal, and impossible to constrain. Well, you give me your word of honor that whatever happens you will carry through the engagement with Captain Yeovil, and that we will together arrange a proper time and that you----"
"I give it."
"Your hand," said the Marquis. "Without there!" He raised his voice.
An orderly appeared. "Send Monsieur St. Laurent to me."
"Monsieur," continued the old man, as the officer presented himself, "you will conduct the Countess Laure d"Aumenier to the small drawing-room; you will leave her there; you will then go to the guard-house and bring thence the prisoner, Marteau; you will conduct him to mademoiselle, my niece, and you will leave them together for half an hour; you will see that the prisoner is carefully guarded, that sentries are posted outside of the windows, and you, yourself, will remain with other escort, in front of the door."
"But out of hearing," said the young woman quickly.
"That, of course. And on your honor, on your duty, on your allegiance, you will say absolutely nothing about this to any one. Do you understand?"
"I understand, monsieur. I shall obey," said St. Laurent, a youth of rare quality, as has been seen.
"Good. You have one half-hour, my child. G.o.d grant that you may serve France and induce this wretched prisoner to give up the Eagle. Your impulse of mercy does you credit," he said adroitly, making the best of the situation for St. Laurent"s benefit. "Now you may go."