"Thou knowest little of men at such a moment; even careless hearts learn fear of God as they face the end. Holy Mother! but 't would even pale your black face, and put a stopper on that ribald tongue, were grim Death stalking at your very heels. You may smile now, making reckless mock of the sacraments, but that hour will come when you will be as a child at the knee of Mother Church. Ay, I was with the Chevalier to-day; 'twas the coming of that negro huckster which took me from his side before, and I seek now to complete the gracious work which then had well begun. Surely thou wilt not stand between a dying man and his last confession!"
"Nay; not I. Let the poor devil have his chance, as may the good Lord grant me mine. But, padre, I have only just returned from my last round among the prisoners, and am greatly wearied, nor will I journey that way again with you. In truth, 'tis all I can well do to guide my own footsteps, without helping along a priest of thy weight. So here, padre, take the key, and, mind ye, have it safely back in my hands before the ship's bell soundeth the half hour."
Hastily snatching the bit of iron he flung rattling on the deck at my feet, I paused merely long enough to favor the company with parting admonition on their probable future. Then, glad enough to be thus easily rid of them, I lurched heavily forward into the narrow passageway. Some coarse joke launched at my expense attracted the attention of those behindhand speeded me onward.
My heart throbbed in anxious anticipation of what unknown trial was at hand. Such rare fortune as had thus far attended my efforts, seemed too remarkable to endure; nor was it impossible that, through some unforeseen mischance, the cup of success might yet be stricken from my very lips. So far at least I had made no mistake; evidently this Père Cassati was "hail fellow, well met" among these riotous guards aboard the "Santa Maria," and I had played the part to their complete undoing. But now I was facing a new experience, and stiffened myself to meet it boldly, uncertain still what trick fate might have in store.
The sentinel, whom I discovered facing forward, hardly more than two paces from that door having the figures "18" painted upon it, quickly lowered his gun as I lurched unsteadily into sight. Greatly to my relief, as soon as he obtained distinct view of his unexpected visitor, he returned the piece carelessly to his shoulder, and leaned back, his elbow against the arm-rack. He was a good-natured-looking fellow, with round, boyish face, upon which streamed the full glare of a swinging-lamp suspended from a chain fastened to an upper beam. His unsuspicious appearance served greatly to reassure me.
"I give thee peace of Holy Church, my son," I muttered solemnly, leaning heavily against the jamb of the door, uplifting my hand in benediction. "May the presence of the Mother and Child guard thee in time of battle."
The face of the young soldier grew sober, and he withdrew one hand from its grasp on the shining musket piously to make the sign of the cross.
"I thank thee, padre, for thy blessing," he returned gratefully. "It will be in accord with the prayers of those I left at home in Spain."
Whether or not guards on duty in the corridor had orders to pass the father unquestioned, this lad, at least, made no effort to prevent my inserting the great iron key within the lock of the door. Doubtless my possession of it was accepted as evidence of my right to its use; anyway he remained there in that same careless posture, a pleased smile on his face, watching me curiously. The heavy nail-studded door swung noiselessly ajar; with single questioning glance backward at the motionless sentry, I stepped within, closed it behind me, and stood, my heart throbbing fiercely, face to face with her husband—the man to whom had been given the woman I loved,—Chevalier Charles de Noyan, condemned to die at sunrise.