"And I," Bevill said, "that we shall all be safely out of it together."
Any further remarks they would have made were, however, checked by what they deemed to be an ordinary occurrence in a city in the condition that Liége now stood.
From the direction in which the travelling carriage had come there appeared-their corselets gleaming under the oil lamps slung across the end of the old street-half a dozen men of a dragoon regiment, having at their head an officer. As they advanced at a trot, Bevill observed that no sooner had they approached close to the party than the officer gave an order for them to proceed slowly, so that now the cortège presented the appearance of a carriage accompanied first by a gentleman as escort, and next by a guard-small as it was-of cavalry. Still, however, as the great vehicle proceeded through narrow, tortuous streets, while emerging occasionally into little open spaces having sometimes fountains in the middle of them and, here and there, an old and timeworn statue, he saw that, wherever he and the carriage went, the dragoons followed. Also, if any interruption occurred, or any halt was made by Joseph in the confined streets, they halted too, so that, at last, he felt sure that their close following of him and those with him was no mere coincidence. This was, he soon decided, no night patrol returning from its round to its own quarters, but resembled more a guard which had taken possession of the travellers after having come across them.
He saw, too, that the ladies knew what was behind and were already alarmed.
Turning sound suddenly over his cantle, therefore, while raising his hat at the same time, Bevill said to the officer:
"Monsieur proceeds in the same direction as ourselves. It is to be hoped that we in no way interrupt his progress or that of his troops."
"In no way, monsieur," the officer answered equally politely, while returning Bevill's salute. "But," speaking very clearly and distinctly, "we are warned that an English spy will endeavour to leave Liége to-night in company with two ladies who travel by coach, and, until monsieur has satisfied those who are at the gate, he will pardon us if we inflict our company on him and his friends."
"An English spy!" Bevill exclaimed.
"Unhappily, it is so. One whose name is as well known as the French name with which he thinks fit to honour our country by assuming."
CHAPTER XXII
When the officer of dragoons had uttered those last words there remained no longer any hope of escape in Bevill's mind. It was impossible to doubt that he was the person for whom this small body of troops was searching, or to suppose that there was in Liége any other Englishman who, as the officer had said with delicate sarcasm, was honouring his country by assuming a French name.
At first he knew not what was best to do, though, had he been alone, his perplexity might easily have been resolved, since there would have been one of two things open to him, namely, on the one hand, an attempt to escape by flight through the narrow streets which surrounded them all at this time-an attempt to dash suddenly away on the fleet-footed La Rose, in the hope that she would bear him more swiftly through those cramped streets than the heavy troop-horses of the dragoons could follow, or ride through, side by side. On the other hand, an effort to cut his way through these soldiers, though they were seven against him, might by supreme good fortune be successful.
But, now, these ideas could by no possibility be acted on. He was there in company with Sylvia and the Comtesse as their cavalier and escort; while, although it was his safety and not theirs which was in peril, his place was by their side to the last. Consequently, there remained one thing alone to do: to state that he was the Englishman of whom these men were in search, while adding that he was no spy, but, instead, one who had made his way from England to Liége with the sole object of assisting a countrywoman to leave a city surrounded by the eternal enemies of the English.
Before, however, Bevill could follow this determination, at which he arrived suddenly, since from the time the officer of dragoons had uttered his last words until now not two moments had elapsed, he saw the face of Madame de Valorme at the window of the travelling carriage, and, an instant later, heard her address the officer.
"Monsieur," she said, "ere we reach the gate may I beseech the favour of speaking to the gentleman of our party in private? I have some few words to say to him in connection with our journey when we shall be outside the city. I am confident that monsieur will not refuse so simple a request."
"Madame may rest well assured of that," the officer replied, as now he sat his horse bareheaded before the Comtesse. "Madame shall not be incommoded by listeners to anything she may have to say to her friend." After which he ordered three of his men to advance twenty paces in front of the carriage and halt there, and the other three to retire twenty paces behind it; while he himself rode forward and took up his position in front of the foremost men.
The Comtesse and Sylvia, with Bevill at the carriage window, were, therefore, as free to discourse without being overheard as though the soldiers had not been in the neighbourhood.
"Ah!" the former said now, speaking of course in a low tone, as at the same time Sylvia thrust forth her hand and clasped Bevill's silently, while one glance at her sweet face was enough to show him how agitated she was, the look in her eyes telling him of that agitation as clearly as the tremor of her gloved hand could do. "Ah! what is to be done? Have we failed so soon in our undertaking? Have we brought you to your destruction?"
"Nay, never, never!" Bevill whispered back. "If I have met my fate" – while, as he spoke, he heard a moan, which was in truth a gasp, from Sylvia's lips, and felt her hand tighten convulsively on his-"I have brought it on myself; I can meet it boldly. I set myself to do this thing, looking for a reward, though never dreaming how fair a reward might at last be mine," he added, with a glance beyond the Comtesse to where Sylvia was. "If I have lost shall I not pay the stake, shall I not look ill-fortune bravely in the face?"
"How has this disaster come about?" Sylvia asked, speaking for the first time. "What precaution has been omitted? Or is it-?"
"Treachery!" the Comtesse said. "Ay! that way the disaster has come. Say, is it not so?"
"I fear, indeed, it is," Bevill replied. "Listen. Someone, either Francbois or another, was in the garden of the Weiss Haus last night behind the arbour, and overheard our plans. I have been denounced, our plans have been revealed, by the eavesdropper."
"Maledictions on him!" the Comtesse whispered through her white teeth, while now her eyes were worthy rivals in splendour of Sylvia's own as they sparkled in the light cast by a lamp suspended across the narrow street. "May vengeance confound him, whoe'er he is; and if 'tis Francbois, let him beware! I hold him in my hand. If-if-you are-are-"
"Cease in mercy's sake!" Sylvia exclaimed. "Ah, say it not. It cannot-cannot-be."
"If you are betrayed by him, you shall be dearly avenged," the Comtesse continued. "Yet, see, that officer gives some order to the men by his side. Quick-what will you do? What?"
"Proclaim myself an Englishman, yet no spy. Speak truthfully, and acknowledge that I came here to save my countrywoman-"
"Madame," the officer exclaimed now as, after turning his horse, he rode back to the carriage, "the clocks are striking the last quarter. If madame and her friends are not at the gate in ten minutes there will be little hope of their passing through it to-night. Even provided," he added below his breath, "that the papers are in order."
For this well-bred young dragoon had a full certainty that he had found the quarry which he, as well as two or three other small parties of soldiers, had been sent out that night to waylay if possible. Yet he had caught a glimpse of Sylvia in the depths of the carriage and more than a glimpse of the aristocratic though sad features of the Comtesse, and he regretted that it had fallen to his lot to light on those who were sought for. As for Bevill, he recognised that he was one of his own class-a gentleman and, by his appearance, perhaps a soldier; but he believed him to be what he had been described as being, a spy, a thing accursed in every land, and for him the young officer felt little sympathy.
"It must be so," Madame de Valorme said now. "Monsieur," speaking as calmly to Bevill as she was able to do, "pray bid Joseph to proceed."
A moment later the group had again set forth, three of the troopers riding ahead and three behind the carriage, only now the officer rode very close behind Bevill.
It took but little longer after this to reach the gate set in the walls, which at this time were very high and strong, the gate-house itself looking like a small fortress built into a still greater fortification. Inside it, three or four mousquetaires were standing as sentries as the carriage approached, while, since all recognised the young officer in front, no challenge was given, but, instead, a salute.
Then the latter, speaking to one of the mousquetaires, said:
"Inform the officer of the guard that Captain d'Aubenay has arrived in company with a party who desire to pass out."
Ere, however, this could be done, the officer himself had come forth from the guard room, and as he did so the Comtesse uttered an exclamation, while muttering beneath her breath:
"It is De Guise. Again! Ah, that man is fatal to all of us!"
In the manner of the young Duc de Guise there was, however, nothing to suggest any disaster, since, courteous as he had been at the western gate when the Comtesse entered with Bevill, so he was now as she and Bevill endeavoured to leave by the eastern one.
"We meet again, madame," he said; "and, this time, when madame would depart. The formality is nothing. I merely require to see the papers of herself and friends. Yet I have seen it before," he went on, as now he took the laissez-passers of the Comtesse and Sylvia from the former's hand. "Ah, yes, yes," he muttered, though as he did so he glanced at Madame de Valorme and, past her, at Sylvia. "Madame la Comtesse de Valorme and her dame de compagnie. Si, si. And monsieur?" he continued, looking up now at Bevill, while all noticed that he had not used one of the accustomed phrases, "Passez, madame," or "C'est tout en règle," nor had he as yet returned the papers.
"Ah, yes!" the young Duke said now, as he looked at the paper Bevill handed down to him. "Monsieur de Belleville. I remember very well. Of the embassy in London. Yes," still looking up. Then he said, "I regret to do so, but I must ask monsieur to descend from his horse."
"Descend!"
"Unfortunately it must be so. We have received orders not to permit monsieur to pass the gate for the moment. Doubtless for the moment only. It is very regrettable-"
"And," asked the Comtesse, "has monsieur le Duc also received orders not to permit me and my dame de compagnie to pass out?"
"Je suis désolé, but, alas! – "
"Is it so?"
"It is so, madame."
"Are we to be detained here? And for how long?"
"Ah, Madame la Comtesse! For how long! But for a moment. Monsieur de Violaine, the Governor, makes the night rounds regularly, reaching here at eleven as the clocks strike, or very little later. Madame may rely on seeing him in a few minutes. If he decides that it shall be so the gate will be opened to let madame and mademoiselle pass out."
"And as for me, sir?" Bevill asked.
"Monsieur, I cannot say. Our orders were simply to detain you if you presented yourself at the gate."
Then, again addressing the Comtesse, the young Duke said:
"Will not madame and mademoiselle give themselves the trouble to descend from the coach? The guardroom is at their disposal: while," looking at Bevill, "monsieur is quite free to accompany his friends inside."
After which the Comtesse and Sylvia left the great carriage, and Bevill, after assisting them to do so, in which attention he was joined by the Duke and another officer of mousquetaires, accompanied them to the guardroom.
Hardly, however, had they set foot in the place than the clatter of several horses' hoofs was heard outside; the voice of a sergeant was also heard giving the order to salute, and, a moment later, the Governor, M. de Violaine, entered the room. As he did so the eyes of those three were turned on him whom they well knew was, for the time being at least, the arbiter of their destiny; while Madame de Valorme seemed to become even more pale than she usually appeared. For, as she had said once, this man was well known to her, and, like her, belonged to the South of France; while, in other days, he had aspired to win her hand, though this no one in Liége but herself and De Violaine knew.
The group was now one at which any onlooker, not knowing all that agitated the hearts and minds of those present, might have gazed in interested wonderment.
De Violaine, tall and handsomely accoutred, had stopped short as he entered the guardroom, and, his eyes fixed on the Comtesse, had muttered beneath his breath, "It is she-Radegonde!"
By Bevill's side, to which she had drawn close as they entered through the clamped door, was Sylvia, gazing at him, silent for some moments, yet whispering next.
"You thought to save me-would have saved me. If on this earth there exist any means by which I can do by you as you would have done by me, they shall be used. You said last night that you would never fail me. Now I exchange the pledge. By God's will never will I fail you."
"Sylvia!" Bevill murmured, and then was silent from agitation at her words. But a moment later he said, speaking so low that none but she could hear, "Sylvia, I am in God's hand, not knowing what His decree may be; yet-yet-if this is not the end, if to-night we do not make our last farewell-"
"No, no!" she moaned, turning her face away so that the others should not see her fast falling tears. "Not that! Never! Ah, it cannot be!"
"I pray it may not be so; but, Sylvia, if happier days shall ever dawn, if some day I may stand face to face with you again; if I should then dare to tell you all that is in my heart? Ah!" he exclaimed, as now he felt her hand touch his beneath the long, dark riding-cloak she wore. "Ah! am I answered?"
"Yes," she whispered, "answered as none shall ever be again," and turned her face away-from him this time, so that not even he should see it.
Meanwhile, whatever emotion De Violaine and the Comtesse may have experienced in meeting under such strange circumstances, circumstances so different from those of other days, when he who now commanded besought pity, and she who was now almost a captive could not vouchsafe mercy to her then captive, they had at least obtained control over themselves.
Quietly, with the easy calm of that old French noblesse which, above all things, permitted no emotion to be apparent, the Governor had advanced towards Madame de Valorme and, in a few well-chosen words, had informed her that matters which had come to his knowledge prevented him from allowing her to use her right of quitting the city at present, or of leaving Liége until she had answered some questions satisfactorily.
"What matters? What questions, monsieur?" the Comtesse asked.
"Firstly," M. de Violaine said gravely, "the reasons for which you are desirous of travelling at this moment. It is an unhappy time for ladies to select for setting out upon a journey. They might," he added, with significance, "come into contact with the English or some other of our enemies; they are all around."
For a moment the Comtesse looked at the Governor; then, seeing that the others in the room were not close, she said:
"Have you, a De Violaine of our unhappy province, forgotten how the eyes of all there are turned towards England? Even though I should 'come into contact' with the English would that be harmful to me, or those of whom I am one?"
"I have not forgotten that I am a soldier, a servant, of France," the other answered. "As one who has sworn a soldier's duty to his King I must, for the time, forget all else. Madame la Comtesse, I ask of you to return to the house from which you set out and remain there. You have been denounced to me as one who is desirous, for a purpose of which I know as well as you, of obtaining an audience of Lord Marlborough."
"Denounced! Naturally, I do not desire to be informed of the name of my denouncer. I know it-and I pity him."
De Violaine looked at her for a moment; then, turning towards Bevill, he said:
"Monsieur, the name on your passport is not your name. You are, I am informed, an Englishman and a spy."
"I am an Englishman, monsieur. I am no spy."
"That you will have to prove, as well as your object in being here in any position except that of a spy. For the present you will be detained at the citadel. The gate," he said, addressing the Duc de Guise, "will be opened no more to-night."
CHAPTER XXIII
Through all that had taken place in the guardroom, M. de Violaine had conducted himself as a gallant gentleman, and neither in his tone, words, nor bearing had there been any of that hectoring or browbeating towards one who, if he was what he had been denounced as being, might well have been subjected to such treatment.
For a spy, found in a city subject to those who were already sore pressed by the very country to which that supposed spy belonged, could scarcely look for gentle treatment at the hands of one who was in command of the principal fortress of that city; while, polished as the French noblesse and gentry might be, soldiering was conducted with a considerable amount of roughness at this time, and it was the habit of all in command in the chief European armies-which were the armies of England and France alone-to treat suspected prisoners with scant consideration.
Yet Bevill could not complain of any roughness on the part of the man whose captive he now was. De Violaine, except that his manner was cold and austere towards him, had behaved as well as one gentleman brought into contact with another, and that other the subject of a hostile country, could have been expected to behave. For all of which there was a reason, over and above the fact that the prisoner was undoubtedly the friend of the woman whom De Violaine had once loved tenderly and hoped to win, as well as apparently something more than a friend of the beautiful companion of the Comtesse-that stately, handsome girl from whose eyes the tears had fallen fast in compassion for the man who was now his prisoner.
This reason was that he had been face to face with the denouncer of Bevill, and, later, with Bevill himself-the denounced-and the first had impressed him unfavourably, while the second, Englishman though he was, had produced a vastly different effect on him.
That morning, early, Francbois had obtained an audience with the Governor, and, after many crafty hints and a considerable amount of falsehood, had told sufficient to cause De Violaine to issue his orders for preventing Bevill and his companions from leaving Liége.
But when Francbois, after stating that not only was the principal accused an Englishman, but also a spy of the enemy, as well as being a Protestant-whom he termed generally heretiques and reformes-but also one who had committed other crimes against France which he would unfold, the soldier bade him be silent.
"You state," De Violaine said, "that you can prove he is an Englishman; that he travels under a false name while bearing a passport made out in that false name, a French one. That is sufficient for his arrest."
"Sufficient, monsieur, for his arrest! His arrest! But surely not sufficient-surely not-for his condemnation-his punishment?"
"That will come later-at the court-martial, since it is by that he can alone be judged. Then you can tell all else you know."
"A court-martial! Is that necessary? Is he not a spy and are not spies condemned without many formalities? Are not Protestants the enemies of France?"
"No," De Violaine said, regarding coldly the man before him. "I am one. Am I an enemy of France? So, too, are half the inhabitants of this place, yet they submit."
"Monsieur le Gouverneur is a Protestant!" Francbois exclaimed, taken aback at learning a fact of which he was in utter ignorance. "A Protestant!" he said again.
"One of many who love France well and serve her well. Also, you speak of la Comtesse de Valorme, and state that you know what she is in Liége for. Knowing so much, you know too that she is of the reformed faith. Do you not suppose, also, that this Mademoiselle Thorne, this English girl of whom you speak, is the same?"
"There is nought against Mademoiselle Thorne."
"There will be if she attempts to leave Liége without my particular permission. Now go, monsieur. You have told me enough to cause them all to be prevented in their intention. Later, you can tell the officers who will judge this Englishman all that you know. Only," with a strange look in his eyes as De Violaine regarded Francbois, "be careful not to leave Liége yourself: you will be wanted."
"I-I-" Francbois stammered, utterly taken aback, not only at the knowledge he had now obtained that the Governor was a Protestant, but also at learning that he himself would be required at whatever form of trial there might be. "I hoped that I should not be called upon to appear personally; I hoped that my information would be sufficient."
"You will have to be present. Where is your abode?"
"At-at-" But he paused. If he gave the house of Van Ryck as his place of abode he stigmatised himself as one who betrayed a woman dwelling under the same roof as he; while if, on the other hand, he told this man sitting before him and regarding him so coldly and contemptuously, that he was an inhabitant of the Jesuit College, he proclaimed himself as one whom this Protestant soldier would regard with abhorrence and all other Frenchmen with mistrust.
"Answer me," the Governor said, seeing that the other hesitated. "Answer, I say. Where do you dwell?"
"I-I-am for the moment at the Jesuit College, Monsieur le Gouverneur," Francbois cried, seeing a look appear upon De Violaine's face which he could not comprehend, so strange, so inscrutable was it. "I am of the religion of France, as most Frenchmen are. There is no crime in consorting with Jesuits."
But still De Violaine looked at Francbois, who now stood before him with his features white as a corpse within its shroud; while, as the former regarded him, he felt that he was trembling.
"No," De Violaine said at last, speaking very calmly; "there is no harm in consorting with Jesuits, unless it be to do harm. Yet-"
But now he paused and added nothing further, though still looking Francbois through and through with calm eyes.
Inwardly, however, his reflections were profound.
"The Jesuits' College!" he was saying to himself. "A portion of that confraternity which secretly is opposed to the claims of France to the Spanish Throne since, once possessed of Spain, France would attempt to suppress the Inquisition. The Jesuits' College in this place, from which De Boufflers has hinted more than once that news of our projects and plans is disseminated to the enemy. Ah! who is the greater spy on us-that Protestant Englishman of whom this man speaks, or he himself who harbours in that college under the sheltering wing of the order. Carogne! if I trap one 'twere best I held the other in my hand as well," and once more the Governor's eyes fell on the man before him.
"Monsieur," Francbois said now, as, still white and still trembling, he again met De Violaine's glance, "Monsieur, is my presence needed further? I-I-have affairs of consequence in hand."
"Doubtless! Yet I have changed my mind. When do you say this Englishman masquerading as a Frenchman is about to quit the city with those ladies?"
"To-night, Monsieur le Gouverneur-before the hour of eleven strikes."
"So be it. You have told me much, but not sufficient. To-night, before eleven, they will all be stopped on their intended journey. The Englishman will be brought here" – "here" being the citadel in which this conversation was taking place-"and your charges against him must be made at once. It may be that all you state is capable of explanation."
"Here, monsieur? I would have desired not to be present, not to be forced to accuse this spy face to face. A silent, an unknown, an absent witness is sometimes more useful than a present one. Yet, since monsieur desires it, it shall be so. I will be here. Monsieur may rely on me."
"Reliance is not necessary," De Violaine replied, while knowing well that, if once this man was allowed to go, the inside of the citadel would never see him again. "You will remain here till the gate is shut and that man in our hands. He shall be brought here at once; you shall stand face to face with him and tell your tale. If what you state, and that which you say you can state further against him, cannot meet inquiry, he will be in grievous peril."
"But, Monsieur le-"
"No more. You will be well cared for, and, providing you speak truly, no harm can come to you." After which De Violaine struck upon a bell by his hand, and, upon the appearance of two of the men on guard outside, bade them remove the gentleman before them to a room in the north wing of the citadel and be careful to treat him with all care and attend well to his wants. But before Francbois was removed from his presence, and ere he reached the door, the Governor bade the men retire outside the room again until he summoned them. Then, when once more alone with Francbois, he said:
"There is some reason for your denunciation of this Englishman. What is that reason? Is it to obtain money, reward?"
"Monsieur?" Francbois exclaimed, making a sorry attempt to draw himself up to his full height and to look the Governor fairly in the face. "I am a gentleman-a Frenchman and-a patriot." But, impassively, De Violaine-though it may be that his shoulders were shrugged almost imperceptibly-continued:
"Are these ladies with whom this Englishman will endeavour to leave the city known to you?"
"Yes," Francbois replied, speaking truthfully, since he could not doubt that ere long-by eleven o'clock this night, if no sooner-any falsehood he might utter would be unmasked. "Yes. La Comtesse de Valorme is, in a manner, of my kin."
"Of your kin?" while beneath his lips the other drew a quick breath. "Of your kin? La Comtesse de Valorme is kin to you! But there are many De Valormes in-in the South. Is she by chance the wife of Gabriel, Comte de Valorme, who was sent to the galleys for his religion?"
"She is, monsieur, the widow of Gabriel. He died in the galley Le Requin."
"Ah! so he is dead." And again De Violaine drew a subdued breath. Then he went on:
"And the other lady? She is, you say, English. A countrywoman of this man whom you denounce. Who is she? What is she? What does she here in Liége?"
That the French Governor should not know this was natural, since, between the military investors of Liége and those residing in the city there could be no intercourse whatever, or only the very slightest between the commanders of the former and the magistracy of the latter; and, consequently, all that Francbois now told him was unknown previously. But of Sylvia De Violaine asked no further questions, and, going to the door again, called in the guards and bade them escort Francbois to the room he had ordained.
After which, and when left alone, he sat down in his chair again and gave himself up to his reflections and to many tender, yet sad, memories.
"So Gabriel is dead," he said to himself. "Poor Gabriel. Dead in one of those accursed galleys. Dead! He to be dead thus! And Radegonde is here-here in Liége. Radegonde, the one woman who ever rose as a star above my life, the one woman who might have been the flower of that life. Yet it was never to be. Never! Never! When Gabriel came all hope was gone for me. Gone! Nay, it never existed. What was it she told me on that last night? That, had her heart been hers it should have been mine-only Gabriel had gained possession of it and would hold possession of it for ever. And now-now-Gabriel is dead, and it falls to me to interrupt her, to thwart her-her, to whom once I would have given my life had she demanded it."
De Violaine brushed his hand swiftly across his eyes, thrust his chair back, and rose from it to pace the room, while muttering to himself, "That is done with, put away for ever. Duty alone remains-the duty, the allegiance I have sworn. A soldier's loyalty! No matter what he ordains," and his thoughts flew to far-off Versailles, "no matter how much she persuades him to evil, he is the King and I his soldier. Duty to him-and France! Yet, oh! that he were different."
"As for this fellow," the Governor continued, contemptuously now, "who and what is he? Has he dared to raise his eyes to Radegonde, to dream that he shall ever occupy the place Gabriel held; and does he hope by some low cunning, some base intrigue, to bring her to his hand? Emile Francbois! Emile Francbois! Ha! Have a care! You may have thwarted her, you may have brought this Englishman to the halter, but-there is rope enough in this fortress to hang more than one. A spy deserves no worse fate than a traitor."
He sent for the officer of the guard now, and gave his orders for despatching a handful of cavalry under the command of one officer to one part of the town and a second to another part, and gave instructions that from dusk each should be on the watch for a carriage, containing two ladies and accompanied by a man on horseback, that would be making its way towards the only gate open after sunset. He also gave instructions that if this party was met with it should be conducted to that gate and there detained until he arrived at the conclusion of his rounds.
And so the trap that Francbois had baited was set. No travellers such as he had described would be able to pass out of the city this night. While, so strong was the sense of duty, of loyalty to France, engrafted in the heart of De Violaine-badly as France was treating that class of her subjects to which he belonged-that, even had Madame de Valorme been his sister or his wife, he would not have permitted her to continue her journey-a journey on which she went, as he could very well imagine, with a view to conspiring with France's most powerful enemy, England, as represented in the presence of Marlborough.