A Gentleman of France: Being the Memoirs of Gaston de Bonne Sieur de Marsac by - (best love novels of all time .txt) 📕

to take breath, she loaded me with abuse; calling me impertinent, a meddler, and a hundred other things, which I now blush to recall, and displaying in all a passion which even in her attendant would have surprised me, but in one so slight and seemingly delicate, overwhelmed and confounded me. In fault as I was, I could not understand the peculiar bitterness she displayed, or the contemptuous force of her language, and I stared at her in silent wonder until, of her own accord, she supplied the key to her feelings. In a fresh outburst of rage she snatched off her mask, and to my astonishment I saw before me the young maid of honour whom I had encountered in the King of Navarre’s antechamber, and whom I had been so unfortunate as to expose to the raillery of Mathurine.

‘Who has paid you, sir,’ she continued, clenching her small hands and speaking with tears of anger in her eyes, ‘to make me the laughing-stock of the Court? It was bad enough when I thought you the proper agent of those to whom I have a right to look for aid! It was bad enough when I thought myself forced, through their inconsiderate choice, to decide between an odious imprisonment and the ridicule to which your intervention must expose me! But that you should have dared, of your own notion, to follow me, you, the butt of the Court—’

‘Mademoiselle!’ I cried.

‘A needy, out-at-elbows adventurer!’ she persisted, triumphing in her cruelty. ‘It exceeds all bearing! It is not to be suffered! It—’

‘Nay, mademoiselle; you SHALL hear me!’ I cried, with a sternness which at last stopped her. ‘Granted I am poor, I am still a gentleman; yes, mademoiselle,’ I continued, firmly, ‘a gentleman, and the last of a family which has spoken with yours on equal terms. And I claim to be heard. I swear that when I came here to-night I believed you to be a perfect stranger! I was unaware that I had ever seen you, unaware that I had ever met you before.’

‘Then why did you come?’ she said viciously.

‘I was engaged to come by those whom you have mentioned, and there, and there only am I in fault. They entrusted to me a token which I have lost. For that I crave your pardon.’

‘You have need to,’ she answered bitterly, yet with a changed countenance, or I was mistaken, ‘if your story be true, sir.’

‘Ay, that you have!’ the woman beside her echoed.

‘Hoity toity, indeed! Here is a fuss about nothing. You call yourself a gentleman, and wear such a doublet as—’

‘Peace, Fanchette,’ mademoiselle said imperiously. And then for a moment she stood silent, eyeing me intently, her lips trembling with excitement and two red spots burning in her cheeks. It was clear from her dress and other things that she had made up her mind to fly had the token been forthcoming; and seeing this, and knowing how unwilling a young girl is to forgo her own way, I still had some hopes that she might not persevere in her distrust and refusal. And so it turned out.

Her manner had changed to one of quiet scorn when she next spoke. ‘You defend yourself skilfully, sir,’ she said, drumming with her fingers on the table and eyeing me steadfastly. ‘But can you give me any reason for the person you name making choice of such a messenger?’

‘Yes,’ I answered, boldly. ‘That he may not be suspected of conniving at your escape.’

‘Oh!’ she cried, with a spark of her former passion. ‘Then it is to be put about that Mademoiselle de la Vire had fled from Chize with M. de Marsac, is it? I thought that!’

‘Through the assistance of M. de Marsac,’ I retorted, correcting her coldly. ‘It is for you, mademoiselle,’ I continued, ‘to weigh that disadvantage against the unpleasantness of remaining here. It only remains for me to ask you to decide quickly. Time presses, and I have stayed here too long already.’

The words had barely passed my lips when they received unwelcome confirmation in the shape of a distant sound—the noisy closing of a door, which, clanging through the house at such an hour—I judged it to be after three o’clock—could scarcely mean anything but mischief. This noise was followed immediately, even while we stood listening with raised fingers, by other sounds—a muffled cry, and the tramp of heavy footsteps in a distant passage. Mademoiselle looked at me, and I at her woman. ‘The door!’ I muttered. ‘Is it locked?’

‘And bolted!’ Fanchette answered; ‘and a great chest set against it. Let them ramp; they will do no harm for a bit.’

‘Then you have still time, mademoiselle,’ I whispered, retreating a step and laying my hand on the curtain before the window. Perhaps I affected greater coolness than I felt. ‘It is not too late. If you choose to remain, well and good. I cannot help it. If, on the other hand, you decide to trust yourself to me, I swear, on the honour of a gentleman, to be worthy of the trust—to serve you truly and protect you to the last! I can say no more.’

She trembled, looking from me to the door, on which some one had just begun to knock loudly. That seemed to decide her. Her lips apart, her eyes full of excitement, she turned hastily to Fanchette.

‘Ay, go if you like,’ the woman answered doggedly, reading the meaning of her look. ‘There cannot be a greater villain than the one we know of. But once started, heaven help us, for if he overtakes us we’ll pay dearly for it!’

The girl did not speak herself, but it was enough. The noise at the door increased each second, and began to be mingled with angry appeals to Fanchette to open, and with threats in case she delayed. I cut the matter short by snatching up one of the saddle-bags—the other we left behind—and flung back the curtain which covered the window. At the same time the woman dashed out the light—a timely precaution—and throwing open the casement I stepped on to the balcony, the others following me closely.

The moon had risen high, and flooding with light the small open space about the house enabled me to see clearly all round the foot of the ladder, to my surprise Fresnoy was not at his post, nor was he to be seen anywhere; but as, at the moment I observed this, an outcry away to my left, at the rear of the chateau, came to my ears, and announced that the danger was no longer confined to the interior of the house, I concluded that he had gone that way to intercept the attack. Without more, therefore, I began to descend as quickly as I could, my sword under one arm and the bag under the other.

I was half-way down, and mademoiselle was already stepping on to the ladder to follow, when I heard footsteps below, and saw him run up, his sword in his hand.

‘Quick, Fresnoy!’ I cried. ‘To the horses and unfasten them! quick!’

I slid down the rest of the way, thinking he had gone to do my bidding. But my feet were scarcely on the ground when a tremendous blow in the side sent me staggering three paces from the ladder. The attack was so sudden, so unexpected, that but for the sight of Fresnoy’s scowling