And chief among the mourners stood the Duke himself, and those about him saw that the strong man who seemed to know no fear, to whom, as they believed, all sentiment and love were unknown, wept. They spoke no more of the Duke's fool, but of the Duke's friend. They understood Jean better now, and perhaps they understood the Duke better, too, as they returned homeward.
A solemn city to-day, yet over it the carillon laughed its constant message. Time passeth into Eternity, and Time is a little matter. Always Jean had understood something of the meaning of the message. He had a fuller understanding now.
Jean's death had one marked effect upon the people's mind. Three days since they had accepted the Duke's judgment upon the prisoners without a murmur, and, if they were inclined to think it too lenient, they realized that mercy has its part in justice, and were content. They were still content to exonerate Mademoiselle de Liancourt from any part in deep-seated treachery, but they were loud in their demands that Count Felix should die the death of a traitor, nor was their fury against de Bornais much less. The Duke remained firm in his purpose with regard to de Bornais, who had left the city two days ago to the accompaniment of hisses and execrations from the assembled multitude. Only a strong force of soldiers had procured his safe passage through the streets. Now Jean's funeral had further inflamed the people's anger against the Count, who remained a close prisoner in the semi-circular cell in the South Tower. There was no loose bar in the window high up in the wall any longer, there was no Jean to come to his deliverance. Indeed, it was the safest refuge the Count could have, for in their present mood the populace would have torn down any less well defended prison to get at him.
Very sad at heart Herrick had returned to the castle after Jean's funeral. He had been met on all sides with loud demands for the Count's death. It seemed suddenly to have become the one question of importance. Many more of the nobles had come to Vayenne, and they, too, advised his speedy execution. He had added murder to treachery. No further mercy ought to be shown him.
Herrick sat alone thinking of Jean. Something had gone out of his life with the quaint figure with which he had become so familiar. He had never liked the motley, yet, as Jean had said, it seemed to suit somehow his outward appearance. Herrick would have given much to see the door open quietly and to hear the jingle of the bells. Clad in that gaudy green and scarlet, Jean had been a very wise counsellor, and Herrick missed his wisdom and advice every hour.
"I had not been so good a Duke as I am had it not been for Jean," he murmured.
The door did open presently, quietly too, but it was Lemasle who entered.
"You have not forgotten that Mademoiselle de Liancourt rides to Passey this afternoon, sir."
"No, captain. You will take a strong force. There may still be robbers on the Passey road, but not of the kind you and I have had experience of."
"Am I to return with my men from Passey at once?" asked Lemasle.