MADAME'S FRIGHT.
And we breathed again. The agony of suspense, which Bezers' pause had created, passed away. But the night already seemed to us as a week of nights. An age of experience, an aeon of adventures cut us off--as we lay shaking behind the curtain--from Caylus and its life. Paris had proved itself more treacherous than we had even expected to find it. Everything and everyone shifted, and wore one face one minute, and one another. We had come to save Pavannes' life at the risk of our own; we found him to be a villain! Here was Mirepoix owning himself a treacherous wretch, a conspirator against a woman; we sympathised with him.
The priest had come upon a work of charity and rescue; we loathed the sound of his voice, and shrank from him, we knew not why, seeming only to read a dark secret, a gloomy threat in each doubtful word he uttered. He was the strangest enigma of all.
Why did we fear him? Why did Madame de Pavannes, who apparently had known him before, shudder at the touch of his hand? Why did his shadow come even between her and her sister, and estrange them? so that from the moment Pavannes' wife saw him standing by Diane's side, she forgot that the latter had come to save, and looked on her in doubt and sorrow, almost with repugnance.
We left the Vidame going back to the fireplace. He stooped to set down the candle by the hearth. "They are not here," he said, as he straightened himself again, and looked curiously at his companions. He had apparently been too much taken up with the pursuit to notice them before. "That is certain, so I have the less time to lose," he continued. "But I would--yes, my dear Coadjutor, I certainly would like to know before I go, what you are doing here. Mirepoix--Mirepoix is an honest man. I did not expect to find you in HIS house. And two ladies? Two! Fie, Coadjutor. Ha! Madame d'O, is it? My dear lady," he continued, addressing her in a whimsical tone, "do not start at the sound of your own name! It would take a hundred hoods to hide your eyes, or bleach your lips to the common colour; I should have known you at once, had I looked at you. And your companion? Pheugh!"He broke off, whistling softly. It was clear that he recognised Madame de Pavannes, and recognised her with astonishment. The bed creaked as I craned my neck to see what would follow. Even the priest seemed to think that some explanation was necessary, for he did not wait to be questioned.
"Madame de Pavannes," he said in a dry, husky voice, and without looking up, "was spirited hither yesterday; and detained against her will by this good man, who will have to answer for it.
Madame d'O discovered her whereabouts, and asked me to escort her here without loss of time to enforce her sister's release.""And her restoration to her distracted husband?""Just so," the priest assented, acquiring confidence, I thought.
"And Madame desires to go?"
"Surely! Why not?"
"Well," the Vidame drawled, his manner such as to bring the blood to Madame de Pavannes' cheek, "it depends on the person who--to use your phrase, M. le Coadjuteur--spirited her hither.""And that," Madame herself retorted, raising her head, while her voice quivered with indignation and anger, "was the Abbess of the Ursulines. Your suspicions are base, worthy of you and unworthy of me, M. le Vidame! Diane!" she continued sharply, taking her sister's arm, and casting a disdainful glance at Bezers, "let us go. I want to be with, my husband. I am stifled in this room.""We are going, little one," Diane murmured reassuringly. But Inoticed that the speaker's animation, which had been as a soul to her beauty when she entered the room, was gone. A strange stillness was it fear of the Vidame? had taken its place.
"The Abbess of the Ursulines?" Bezers continued thoughtfully.
"SHE brought you here, did she?" There was surprise, genuine surprise, in his voice. "A good soul, and, I think I have heard, a friend of yours. Umph!""A very dear friend," Madame answered stiffly. "Now, Diane!""A dear friend! And she spirited you hither yesterday!"commented the Vidame, with the air of one solving an anagram.
"And Mirepoix detained you; respectable Mirepoix, who is said to have a well-filled stocking under his pallet, and stands well with the bourgeoisie. He is in the plot. Then at a very late hour, your affectionate sister, and my good friend the Coadjutor, enter to save you. From what?"No one spoke. The priest looked down, his cheek. livid with anger.
"From what?" Bezers continued with grim playfulness. "There is the mystery. From the clutches of this profligate Mirepoix, Isuppose. From the dangerous Mirepoix. Upon my honour," with a sudden ring of resolution in his tone, "I think you are safer here; I think you had better stay where you are, Madame, until morning! And risk Mirepoix!""Oh, no! no!" Madame cried vehemently.
"Oh, yes! yes!" he replied. "What do you say, Coadjutor? Do you not think so?"The priest looked down sullenly. His voice shook as he murmured in answer, "Madame will please herself. She has a character, M. le Vidame. But if she prefer to stay here--well!""Oh, she has a character, has she?" rejoined the giant, his eyes twinkling with evil mirth, "and she should go home with you, and my old friend Madame d'O, to save it! That is it, is it? No, no," he continued when he had had his silent laugh out, "Madame de Pavannes will do very well here--very well here until morning.
We have work to do. Come. Let us go and do it.""Do you mean it?" said the priest, starting and looking up with a subtle challenge--almost a threat--in his tone.
"Yes, I do."
Their eyes met: and seeing their looks, I chuckled, nudging Croisette. No fear of their discovering us now. I recalled the old proverb which says that when thieves fall out, honest men come by their own, and speculated on the chance of the priest freeing us once for all from M. de Bezers.
