"My G.o.d!" he responded with a sort of fierce pride that was almost arrogant. "Although I was born a peasant, mademoiselle, not the finest gentleman in France or England could love you as I do. Yet it is impossible for you to love me now that the Emperor is no longer here.
Your uncle would never consent. You, yourself, love that English gentleman. Why give thought to Marteau? Summon a.s.sistance, deliver me up and remember me as one who loved you with all the fervor of his heart, or forget me, if you can."
"I would not have you die," said the woman, shuddering. "G.o.d forbid."
"It is best so. Life holds nothing for me now."
"But if the violets bloom again?" asked the other.
"Ah!" exclaimed the man, throwing up his hands and drawing a long breath. "Then!"
"How came you here, monsieur?"
"By that window there. There is a ladder without. It reaches most of the way. I am a good climber. The ivy----"
"Go as you came. None shall be the wiser."
"To you always the disposition of my life, mademoiselle," said Marteau simply. "I obey your command. Farewell. It is but a postponement, anyway," he added as he turned away. "I can never escape from Gren.o.ble. They will seize me sooner or later and----"
"Stay!" she cried.
Moved by an unaccountable impulse the girl took a step nearer to him.
She loosened her clutch upon her garment and held out her hands to him.
"If it is to be farewell," she said tenderly, "know that I do not love that English Captain, no, and that. I----"
He seized her hand and covered it with kisses.
"I can die with better grace now," he said at last.
Not daring to trust himself further he turned to the window again. As he put his hand on the lock of the cas.e.m.e.nt he heard shouts and cries outside, he saw torches. Escape that way was barred. The whole castle seemed suddenly to awake. He realized it all in a moment. He had been traced there. In another minute he would be discovered in the Countess"s room at that hour of the morning. He turned swiftly to the dismayed girl.
"They are there," he said. "Escape is cut off."
Steps and voices resounded in the corridor.
"Quick," she said, "the closet yonder--you can hide."
She understood the peril as well as he.
"And bring disgrace upon you when they caught me? Never!"
"Marteau, for G.o.d"s sake, I love you," said the woman agonizingly. "I cannot----"
She stretched out her hands to him again. Very lovely she looked, the peignoir falling from her white shoulders, the soft candle-light illuminating and yet concealing in its vague shadows the beauty of face and figure. Marteau did not dare to dwell upon that. He must act and instantly. He rushed toward the woman. He caught her by the hand. He even shook her a little.
"Shriek," he whispered in her ear.
He picked up the pistol from the bed upon which she had thrown it and pointing it upward pulled the trigger. Startled by his utterly unexpected action, the meaning of which she could not fathom, she did scream loudly. The next instant the door was thrown open and into the room half clad, sword in hand, burst the Marquis. With him were Sir Gervaise Yeovil and the young Captain, and attending them were servants and guards bearing lights.
The Marquis stared from his niece back to the young officer.
"My G.o.d!" he exclaimed. "Is it you?"
Marteau could only bow. He had a few seconds to make up his mind, a few seconds to decide upon the role he must play. Well, his life was certainly forfeit, his reputation he would also give for hers. Any explanation that he could make would be disbelieved unless, of course, he produced the Eagle, which was not to be thought of. Failing the Eagle the more he endeavored to account for his presence the more deeply would he involve the woman he loved.
"I find you here, you that I treated almost like a gentleman, who, I thought, nearly measured up to the t.i.tle, in my niece"s room at this hour of the morning," continued the enraged old man. "Laure, has he--has he harmed you?"
"You came too quickly, monsieur," answered Marteau, himself, giving the young woman time to recover herself. "You heard the pistol shot." He threw the weapon from him. "We were struggling. It went off and----"
"You d.a.m.ned low-born coward," gritted out the English officer, stepping toward him furious with anger.
"Steady, Frank. There is something strange about this," said Sir Gervaise gloomily, catching his son by the arm. "He is no coward.
That I"ll warrant."
"But to seek entry into a woman"s bed-chamber!" continued Frank furiously. "If you were a gentleman I"d----"
"That "almost,"" said Marteau, "saves me in this instance."
"I feel this action almost as if it had been my own son, had G.o.d blessed me with one," said the old Marquis, slowly recovering his self-command. "A loyal Marteau, a thief, a despoiler of women! Why, she knelt to you in the hall. She raised her voice in your defense, and now you--you----" His fingers twitched. ""The Count d"Aumenier,""
he added in bittery mockery. "You could not bear the t.i.tle if it had been left in your hand. I shall have you branded as a thief in the morning and----"
"My uncle," said the woman, "he----"
"Mademoiselle," interposed Marteau sharply, resolved to protect her at all hazards, "is not my case black enough without further testimony from you? I beseech you to be silent."
"Speak, Laure," said the old Marquis. "If you have anything to say which will make his punishment surer and harder, I charge you to say it."
"Nothing, nothing," answered the poor young woman. "Oh, if ever a woman"s soul was tortured----"
"You tortured her, did you?" cried the Englishman, struggling in his father"s arms. "I once thought of meeting you in the field--you--you!
I would like to strangle you with my bare hands."
"It is just. I honor monsieur for his rage. It is true, I love the woman, and----"
"Is this the way a gentleman shows his affection?" roared out the English captain.
"Monsieur forgets that I am almost, not quite, a gentleman."
"And there is another score we have to settle with you," cried the Marquis. "That cursed Eagle--where is it?"
"Before I sought mademoiselle," said Marteau, "I placed it in safety and in such keeping as will watch over it. You will never find it. It will only be produced when"--he stopped--"when the violets bloom again."
"What is this d.a.m.ned nonsense about flowers I hear everywhere?" burst out Sir Gervaise.
"Well, monsieur," said the Marquis, "it will be produced before that time, or when the violets do bloom they will find some red soil out of which to spring."
"You mean----"
"As I live I will have you court-martialed in the morning and shot for high treason. I stand for the King, for the ancient laws of France. I will have no paltering with traitors, and I am more inclined to deal swiftly and summarily with you since to treason you add theft and this attempt upon a woman. Produce that Eagle, or you die."