Under the Red Robe by Stanley John Weyman (positive books to read txt) 📕

Still he seemed to hesitate; and my heart beat fast. At last he looked at the lieutenant. ‘You may leave us,’ he said shortly. ‘Now,’ he continued, when the officer had withdrawn and left us alone, ‘what is it? Say what you have to say quickly. And, above all, do not try to fool me, M. de Berault.’

But his piercing eyes so disconcerted me now that I had my chance, and was alone with him, that I could not find a word to say, and stood before him mute. I think this pleased him, for his face relaxed.

‘Well?’ he said at last. ‘Is that all?’

‘The man is not dead,’ I muttered.

He shrugged his shoulders contemptuously.

‘What of that?’ he said. ‘That was not what you wanted to say to me.’

‘Once I saved your Eminence’s life,’ I faltered miserably.

‘Admitted,’ he answered, in his thin, incisive voice. ‘You mentioned the fact before. On the other hand, you have taken six to my knowledge, M. de Berault. You have lived the life of a bully, a common bravo, a gamester. You, a man of family! For shame! Do you wonder that it has brought you to this! Yet on that one point I am willing to hear more,’ he added abruptly.

‘I might save your Eminence’s life again,’ I cried. It was a sudden inspiration.

‘You know something?’ he said quickly, fixing me with his eyes. ‘But no,’ he continued, shaking his head gently. ‘Pshaw! The trick is old. I have better spies than you, M. de Berault.’

‘But no better sword,’ I cried hoarsely. ‘No, not in all your guard!’

‘That is true,’ he said slowly. ‘That is true.’ To my surprise, he spoke in a tone of consideration; and he looked down at the floor. ‘Let me think, my friend,’ he continued.

He walked two or three times up and down the room, while I stood trembling. I confess it, trembling. The man whose pulses danger has no power to quicken, is seldom proof against suspense; and the sudden hope his words awakened in me so shook me that his figure as he trod lightly to and fro with the cat rubbing against his robe and turning time for time with him, wavered before my eyes. I grasped the table to steady myself. I had not admitted even in my own mind how darkly the shadow of Montfaucon and the gallows had fallen across me.

I had leisure to recover myself, for it was some time before he spoke. When he did, it was in a voice harsh, changed, imperative. ‘You have the reputation of a man faithful, at least, to his employer,’ he said. ‘Do not answer me. I say it is so. Well, I will trust you. I will give you one more chance—though it is a desperate one. Woe to you if you fail me! Do you know Cocheforet in Bearn? It is not far from Auch.’

‘No, your Eminence.’

‘Nor M. de Cocheforet?’

‘No, your Eminence.’

‘So much the better,’ he replied. ‘But you have heard of him. He has been engaged in every Gascon plot since the late King’s death, and gave more trouble last year in the Vivarais than any man twice his years. At present he is at Bosost in Spain, with other refugees, but I have learned that at frequent intervals he visits his wife at Cocheforet which is six leagues within the border. On one of these visits he must be arrested.’

‘That should be easy,’ I said.

The Cardinal looked at me. ‘Chut, man! what do you know about it?’ he answered bluntly. ‘It is whispered at Cocheforet if a soldier crosses the street at Auch. In the house are only two or three servants, but they have the countryside with them to a man, and they are a dangerous breed. A spark might kindle a fresh rising. The arrest, therefore, must be made secretly.’

I bowed.

‘One resolute man inside the house,’ the Cardinal continued, thoughtfully glancing at a paper which lay on the table, ‘with the help of two or three servants whom he could summon to his aid at will, might effect it. The question is, Will you be the man, my friend?’

I hesitated; then I bowed. What choice had I?

‘Nay, nay, speak out!’ he said sharply. ‘Yes or no, M. de Berault?’

‘Yes, your Eminence,’ I said reluctantly. Again, I say, what choice had I?

‘You will bring him to Paris, and alive. He knows things, and that is why I want him. You understand?’

‘I understand, Monseigneur,’ I answered.

‘You will get into the house as you can,’ he continued with energy. ‘For that you will need strategy, and good strategy. They suspect everybody. You must deceive them. If you fail to deceive them, or, deceiving them, are found out later, I do not think that you will trouble me again, or break the edict a second time. On the other hand, should you deceive me’—he smiled still more subtly, but his voice sank to a purring note—‘I will break you on the wheel like the ruined gamester you are!’

I met his look without quailing. ‘So be it!’ I said recklessly. ‘If I do not bring M. de Cocheforet to Paris, you may do that to me, and more also!’

‘It is a bargain!’ he answered slowly. ‘I think that you will be faithful. For money, here are a hundred crowns. That sum should suffice; but if you succeed you shall have twice as much more. That is all, I think. You understand?’

‘Yes, Monseigneur.’

‘Then why do you wait?’

‘The lieutenant?’ I said modestly.

The Cardinal laughed to himself, and sitting down wrote a word or two on a slip of paper. ‘Give him that,’ he said in high good-humour. ‘I fear, M. de Berault, you will never get your deserts—in this world!’