"She did that? the crafty, cunning baby-face!" cried Pharamond.
"I ought to have known," growled Clovis, with rueful self-reproach, "that reserved baby-faced women are always cunning. But I trusted so much in you as to allow myself to be persuaded, and now I am undone--undone!"
In spite of his discomfiture, the artistic instinct of the abbé could not but keenly appreciate the still long-suffering woman who had braved and circumvented him. And they had all been stupid enough to look upon her as a foe unworthy of their steel. That they should have done so was due to one of the many errors in judgment of the abominable Algaé. Well, well--she was a wondrous creature, as well as a beautiful. Gifted with second sight, had she been able to foresee what precise poison he would employ and provide herself with an antidote? Hardly. Therein lay a mystery.
Meanwhile, conjectures fill no stomachs, and nature was beginning to assert herself aggressively. It was brutal of the baron to starve his cage-birds. To play with his brother, or to snarl and gird at him was mighty well as a pastime, but it grew more than annoying that, after the hints that had been thrown out, the baron should be so disgustingly inhospitable.
By dint of straining and muscular artfulness, the two, who had been unwillingly made one with ropes, managed to escape from their bonds; and the abbé persuasively arguing through the keyhole, endeavoured to coax the guardian marching without to discuss the question of food. It was barbarous to lock three men in a room and leave them to starve, specially when it had been pointed out that there had been no time that morning to partake of even the lightest refection. Is not déjeuner the most important meal in France--now as in the past; and is it not deliberately fiendish to place famishing humanity in a dining-hall without the necessary and expected adjuncts? It had nothing to do with the case that the engrossing business which had engrossed the early hours had been to supply a lady with a special breakfast for which she had no appetite. At any rate, she had been provided with a breakfast of a sort, and that she didn't like it was beside the question, for is it not well known that capricious ladies affect to live on butterfly wings and flower nectar--rare victuals that cannot always be supplied--while here were three ravenous men who had gone through much emotion and were proportionately empty, and who would be content--nay, grateful--for a commonplace, vulgar, substantial paté and a bottle of sound Burgundy. Thus the sportive abbé through the keyhole, whose sallies received no response.
By and by the monotonous tramp in the stone passage ceased; hasty footsteps hurried away--there were muffled cries and exclamations, followed by--it could be nothing else--a volley of musketry. There was something going forward, then, that was serious. The abbés humour changed from banter to gloomy wrath, and a sensation came over him akin to that which Gabrielle had experienced in her bedchamber. He would not die--no--he would live! But how? He ground his teeth and gnawed his fingers with a baffled sense of degrading helplessness. Here was he, an unappreciated genius, whose wits were as nimble as ever, who was prepared to start off at a tangent on any project which promised to bring grist to his mill, incarcerated in a place intended for festivity, from which there was no outlet, and in which could be found no crust of bread or glass of water. The windows were inaccessible, the oaken door locked without. But the sentry was withdrawn, which was something; and three men, strong and young, should shame to lie down content to wallow in the mud and groan. Something of a serious and important nature was going on outside, as could be judged by the noise. If the door could be forced in the confusion, the muffled sounds of which were evident to acute ears, what should prevent successful evasion even at this eleventh hour? Clovis was strongly built, the thews and broad shoulders of Phebus had ofttimes been a subject for sport--and there the two sat like waxen effigies, both refusing to be roused. In his exasperation Pharamond seized Phebus by the shoulders and shook him like a sack, but the latter merely opened his watery eyes for a moment and then blinked them to again like one who has done with daylight. As for Clovis, the gorge of his brother rose, and he exhaled himself in ingenious curses. If there was a hell, to which both were bound, a large item of his punishment would consist in his brother's presence as a neighbour.
Oh! It was too bad--too bad! There was some commotion going on outside--a rush of feet, a shouting, a calling out of names--something or another that occupied the entire attention of the garrison. The three of them, if they would exert united strength, could, with a portion of yonder massive dining-table, easily force the door, since the hubbub outside was sufficient to distract attention from any noise within. The door forced, they could lose themselves in the crowd. The smiling world would be open. Life--precious life--would commence again. And there the two idiots crouched--the one in a daze, the other drowned in unavailing grief--while the golden moments dripped. At thought of what ought to be, and that which loomed as more likely to obtain, Pharamond was devoured by an access of the old frenzy, which earlier in the day had toppled over reason, and tore in idle impotence at the ponderous table with his delicate white hands till the blood gushed from beneath the nails and his lips were white with foam.
CHAPTER XXIX.
[NOBLESSE OBLIGE.]
The baron's apprehensions were soon justified. Having placed his prisoners under lock and key, he hastily assembled the gentlemen in a council of war, explaining his fears and difficulties. The peasantry would, of course, be wild with indignation, and, all things considered, there was plenty of excuse for excess. It was as though some one had deliberately flung a lighted fuse into an open barrel of gunpowder. Montbazon could not withstand a serious assault, for it consisted of an agglomeration of clustering rooms, chiefly built of wood and plaster around a small stone pleasure house in the centre. Of course, there was a courtyard with imposing gates, necessary adjuncts to the dignity of a dwelling that called itself a chateau, but, in sooth, the walls were thin and tottery--more suitable for the support of pear trees en espalier than for withstanding an armed attack. Duty must be done, however. The Seigneurie of Touraine would one and all be smirched with the disgrace, if members of their order were handed over without a struggle to the vengeance of bucolic bumpkins. No doubt, no doubt--all the gentlemen agreed, but those who had brought their womenfolk over with them to enjoy this ill-omened fête day were unable to mask their anxiety. The peasantry all over France had, during the last few years, been guilty of raids upon the chateaux, had pillaged some, burnt others, inflicted outrages on the inhabitants. Was it likely that, though their province had hitherto been quieter than most, the people, justly exasperated by a dreadful crime, would hearken to the voice of reason? It was, of course, right and proper that the marquis and his brethren should be fairly tried and sentenced, but really---at least, so thought one of the assembly--it would be better to abandon them to their fate than risk the safety of the ladies.