The Chevalier stood a little to one side opposite him, leaning lightly against the chimney-piece. As he proceeded with the story the Admiral’s hands gripped the chair-arms the harder and he chewed nervously upon a toothpick, which he had put into his mouth. For the most part he sat quiet, saying no word; but when he heard of the promise of Menendez for safe conduct as prisoners of war, he could contain himself no longer. He got upon his feet, walking up and down, asking short questions the while to complete his view. De Brésac told all that had happened much as I have related it here, save only the parts which are intimate and personal to me. When he described the patience and martyrdom of Ribault and the others and the manner in which they had met their doom, Coligny raised his hands to his brow, saying as though to himself,
“It is not possible—not possible! I cannot believe it!” asking questions until all doubt of the barbarity had been removed from his mind. “It is horrible!” he said. “Horrible, even now when assassination is so much the fashion that it is the argument of the fool and the wise alike.”
When De Brésac had finished, having spoken of the good conduct of those who were lost and the probable position of the survivors—were there any—the Admiral remained silent awhile looking into the fire, his hands clinched and his brows knit in a tangled frown. He had quite forgotten us; for his mind was fixed upon the bearing of this news upon matters of State. No word was spoken and the only sound in that great chamber was the crackling of the logs upon the hearth. We saw by the look upon his face how deep was his interest in the fate of his poor colony, and we saw how the melancholy was driven from his eyes by the expression of stern resolve which suddenly fixed his features. It was like watching a hericano drive up over a windy sea.
After a while he put again in rapid succession a number of questions upon facts unconsidered by De Brésac, which would have a certain diplomatic value at the Court of Madrid. It was far into the night when he had done, and he made no further statement and gave no opinion of any kind save at the end, when his men had been called and he was about to draw on his cloak.
“A great crime has been committed against duly-constituted officers of France, my friends,” he said gravely. “It is a matter in which the honor of the King is concerned. It may not be overlooked, and God alone knows what may come. You are to speak no word of this affair, but must wait in readiness to be called to audience with the King. You have done well, Monsieur de Brésac. Good night, messieurs! Monsieur de Teligny, good night.”
And so saying he disappeared down the stairway and out a street door, muffling himself as he went.
De Brésac turned to me, his eyes glittering and his lips set in a grim smile of triumph. “We shall have vengeance upon them,—yes, we shall have vengeance!”