Bardelys the Magnificent by Rafael Sabatini (mini ebook reader .txt) 📕

your conversation reached

me I had not been human had I not remained and strained my ears to

catch every syllable you uttered. For the rest, let me ask you,

my dear Chatellerault, since when have you become so nice that you

dare cast it at a man that he has been eavesdropping?”

 

“You are obscure, monsieur. What is it that you suggest?”

 

“I am signifying that when a man stands unmasked for a cheat, a

liar, and a thief, his own character should give him concern enough

to restrain him from strictures upon that of another.”

 

A red flush showed through the tan of his skin, then faded and left

him livid - a very evil sight, as God lives. He flung his

heavily-feathered hat upon the table, and carried his hand to his

hilt.

 

“God’s blood!” he cried. “You shall answer me for this.”

 

I shook my head and smiled; but I made no sign of drawing.

 

“Monsieur, we must talk a while. I think that you had better.”

 

He raised his sullen eyes to mine. Perhaps the earnest

impressiveness of my tones prevailed. Be that as it may, his

half-drawn sword was thrust back with a click, and “What have you

to say?” he asked.

 

“Be seated.” I motioned him to a chair by the table and when he had

taken it I sat down opposite to him. Taking up a quill, I dipped it

in the ink-horn that stood by, and drew towards me a sheet of paper.

 

“When you lured me into the wager touching Mademoiselle de Lavedan,”

said I calmly, “you did so, counting upon certain circumstances, of

which you alone had knowledge, that should render impossible the

urging of my suit. That, Monsieur le Comte, was undeniably the

action of a cheat. Was it not?”

 

“Damnation!” he roared, and would have risen, but, my hand upon his

arm, I restrained him and pressed him back into his chair.

 

“By a sequence of fortuitous circumstances,” I pursued, “it became

possible for me to circumvent the obstacle upon which you had based

your calculations. Those same circumstances led later to my being

arrested in error and in place of another man. You discovered how

I had contravened the influence upon which you counted; you trembled

to see how the unexpected had befriended me, and you began to fear

for your wager.

 

“What did you do? Seeing me arraigned before you in your quality

as King’s Commissioner, you pretended to no knowledge of me; you

became blind to my being any but Lesperon the rebel, and you

sentenced me to death in his place, so that being thus definitely

removed I should be unable to carry out my undertaking, and my

lands should consequently pass into your possession. That, monsieur,

was at once the act of a thief and a murderer. Wait, monsieur;

restrain yourself until I shall have done. To-day again fortune

comes to my rescue. Again you see me slipping from your grasp, and

you are in despair. Then, in the eleventh hour, Mademoiselle de

Lavedan comes to you to plead for my life. By that act she gives

you the most ample proof that your wager is lost. What would a

gentleman, a man of honour, have done under these circumstances?

What did you do? You seized that last chance; you turned it to the

best account; you made this poor girl buy something from you; you

made her sell herself to you for nothing - pretending that your

nothing was a something of great value. What term shall we apply

to that? To say that you cheated again seems hardly adequate.”

 

“By God, Bardelys!”

 

“Wait!” I thundered, looking him straight between the eyes, so that

again he sank back cowed. Then resuming the calm with which hitherto

I had addressed him, “Your cupidity,” said I, “your greed for the

estates of Bardelys, and your jealousy and thirst to see me

impoverished and so ousted from my position at Court, to leave you

supreme in His Majesty’s favour, have put you to strange shifts for

a gentleman, Chatellerault. Yet, wait.”

 

And, dipping my pen in the ink-horn, I began to write. I was

conscious of his eyes upon me, and I could imagine his surmisings

and bewildered speculations as my pen scratched rapidly across the

paper. In a few moments it was done, and I tossed the pen aside.

I took up the sandbox.

 

“When a man cheats, Monsieur le Comte, and is detected, he is

invariably adjudged the loser of his stakes. On that count alone

everything that you have is now mine by rights.” Again I had to

quell an interruption. “But if we wave that point, and proceed

upon the supposition that you have dealt fairly and honourably with

me, why, then, monsieur, you have still sufficient evidence - the

word of Mademoiselle, herself, in fact - that I have won my wager.

And so, if we take this, the most lenient view of the case” - I

paused to sprinkle the sand over my writing - “your estates are

still lost to you, and pass to be my property.”

 

“Do they, by God?” he roared, unable longer to restrain himself,

and leaping to his feet. “You have done, have you not? You have

said all that you can call to mind? You have flung insults and

epithets at me enough to earn the cutting of a dozen throats. You

have dubbed me cheat and thief” - he choked in his passion - “until

you have had your fill - is it not so? Now, listen to me, Master

Bardelys, master spy, master buffoon, master masquerader! What

manner of proceeding was yours to go to Lavedan under a false name?

How call you that? Was that, perhaps, not cheating?”

 

“No, monsieur, it was not,” I answered quietly. “It was in the

terms of your challenge that I was free to go to Lavedan in what

guise I listed, employing what wiles I pleased. But let that be,”

I ended, and, creasing the paper, I poured the sand back into the

box, and dusted the document. “The point is hardly worth discussing

at this time of day. If not one way, why, then, in another, your

wager is lost.”

 

“Is it?” He set his arms akimbo and eyed me derisively, his

thick-set frame planted squarely before me. “You are satisfied

that it is so? Quite satisfied, eh?” He leered in my face. “Why,

then, Monsieur le Marquis, we will see whether a few inches of steel

will win it back for me.” And once more his hand flew to his hilt.

 

Rising, I flung the document I had accomplished upon the table.

“Glance first at that,” said I.

 

He stopped to look at me in inquiry, my manner sowing so great a

curiosity in him that his passion was all scattered before it. Then

he stepped up to the table and lifted the paper. As he read, his

hand shook, amazement dilated his eyes and furrowed his brow.

 

“What - what does it signify?” he gasped.

 

“It signifies that, although fully conscious of having won, I prefer

to acknowledge that I have lost. I make over to you thus my estates

of Bardelys, because, monsieur, I have come to realize that that

wager was an infamous one - one in which a gentleman should have had

no part - and the only atonement I can make to myself, my honour,

and the lady whom we insulted - is that.”

 

“I do not understand,” he complained.

 

“I apprehend your difficulty, Comte. The point is a nice one. But

understand at least that my Picardy estates are yours. Only,

monsieur, you will be well advised to make your will forthwith, for

you are not destined, yourself, to enjoy them.”

 

He looked at me, his glance charged with inquiry.

 

“His Majesty,” I continued, in answer to his glance, “is ordering

your arrest for betraying the trust he had reposed in you and for

perverting the ends of justice to do your own private murdering.”

 

“Mon Dieu!” he cried, falling of a sudden unto a most pitiful

affright. “The King knows?”

 

“Knows?” I laughed. “In the excitement of these other matters you

have forgotten to ask how I come to be at liberty. I have been to

the King, monsieur, and I have told him what has taken place here

at Toulouse, and how I was to have gone to the block tomorrow!”

 

“Scelerat!” he cried. “You have ruined me!” Rage and grief were

blent in his accents. He stood before me, livid of face and with

hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

 

“Did you expect me to keep such a matter silent? Even had I been

so inclined it had not been easy, for His Majesty had questions to

ask me. From what the King said, monsieur, you may count upon

mounting the scaffold in my stead. So be advised, and make your

will without delay, if you would have your heirs enjoy my Picardy

chateau.”

 

I have seen terror and anger distort men’s countenances, but never

have I seen aught to compare with the disorder of Chatellerault at

that moment. He stamped and raved and fumed. He poured forth a

thousand ordures of speech in his frenzy; he heaped insults upon me

and imprecations upon the King, whose lapdog he pronounced me. His

short, stout frame was quivering with passion and fear, his broad

face distorted by his hideous grimaces of rage. And then, while

yet his ravings were in full flow, the door opened, and in stepped

the airy Chevalier de Saint-Eustache.

 

He stood still, amazed, beneath the lintel - marvelling to see all

this anger, and abashed at beholding me. His sudden appearance

reminded me that I had last seen him at Grenade in the Count’s

company, on the day of my arrest. The surprise it had occasioned

me now returned upon seeing him so obviously and intimately seeking

Chatellerault.

 

The Count turned on him in his anger.

 

“Well, popinjay?” he roared. “What do you want with me?”

 

“Monsieur le Comte!” cried the other, in blent indignation and

reproach.

 

“You will perceive that you are come inopportunely,” I put in.

“Monsieur de Chatellerault is not quite himself.”

 

But my speech again drew his attention to my presence; and the wonder

grew in his eyes at finding me there, for to him I was still Lesperon

the rebel, and he marvelled naturally that I should be at large.

 

Then in the corridor there was a sound of steps and voices, and as I

turned I beheld in the doorway, behind Saint-Eustache, the faces of

Castelroux, Mironsac, and my old acquaintance, the babbling,

irresponsible buffoon, La Fosse. From Mironsac he had heard of my

presence in Toulouse, and, piloted by Castelroux, they were both

come to seek me out. I’ll swear it was not thus they had looked to

find me.

 

They pushed their way into the room, impelling Saint-Eustache

forward, and there were greetings exchanged and felicitations, whilst

Chatellerault, curbing his disorder, drew the Chevalier into a corner

of the room, and stood there listening to him.

 

At length I heard the Count exclaim—

 

“Do as you please, Chevalier. If you have interests of your own to

serve, serve them. As for myself - I am past being interested.”

 

“But why, monsieur?” the chevalier inquired.

 

“Why?” echoed Chatellerault, his ferocity welling up again. Then,

swinging round, he came straight at me, as a bull makes a charge.

 

“Monsieur de Bardelys!” he blazed.

 

“Bardelys!” gasped Saint-Eustache in the background.

 

“What now?” I inquired coldly, turning from my friends.

 

“All that you said may be