At the end M. le Comte held out his hand to me again.
“You are a man, M. de Marsan,” he said warmly. “I count myself fortunate to have found a liege so gallant. I shall remember it.”
“But he has not told you all, M. le Comte!” cried Fronsac. “It was he who planned the escape—I was but a follower, a looker-on. I had despaired a dozen times, but he always found a way. It was magnificent!”
“No, no,” I protested again, and stopped. M. le Comte was looking at me and laughing.
“M. de Marsan,” he said, “I will spare your blushes. Only permit me to say that I shall not soon forget the man who hath returned me my daughter, whom I had despaired of rescuing—who hath delivered mine enemy into my hands.”
“But, indeed, M. le Comte,” I said earnestly, “it was not I conceived the plan. I could have done nothing of myself,” and I told him the story of the message. “This friend of yours in Roquefort’s household is no ordinary man,” I added.
“No, he is no ordinary man,” assented M. le Comte. “It is not often one secures an agent at once so fearless and so full of resource. ’Tis a strange story, but not mine to tell,” and he fell a moment silent. “Still,” he continued warmly, “you will at least permit me to give you credit with the execution. I have myself found many times that it is easy to lay a plan. But often I have not succeeded so well in carrying it out.”
He turned to where Roquefort lay on the couch. I fancied that I could already discern the death-damp on his brow.
“He must have attention,” said M. le Comte, and, raising the curtain, he despatched a sentry for his surgeon. The surgeon was soon there, and bent over Roquefort with grave face. He wiped the blood from his lips, raised his head, and examined with deft fingers the wound Fronsac’s musket had inflicted, then, tearing away his clothing, put his ear against his chest. He listened a moment so, then stood erect again.
“’Tis as I feared, M. le Comte,” he said. “The wound in the head is nothing—a glance blow that tore the scalp and produced a slight palsy; but his chest is crushed; he bleeds within. I have seen men so who have fallen beneath their horses, but I have never yet seen one get well again.”