“Did ever you hear the like?” I burst out, and Marcilly laughed bitterly as he answered:
“We go like lambs to the slaughter, perchance,” and then he looked me straight in the face, saying:
“Gaspard! You see that track! It leads straight to the high road to Blois. Turn rein and ride there, and thence take horse to Poitou. There is blood in the air, friend, but it must not be yours. Leave me! I will do this alone.”
“Monsieur,” I said, a flush rising to my face, and, as God is my witness, the words I uttered came straight from my heart, “Monsieur, I have the honor to be joined with you in this thing, and I stay with you till the last, for good or ill.”
“Think!” he said, “and draw back while there is time. Where are Renaudie, Castelnau, and Ste. Marie? Where are a hundred brave hearts we knew and loved?”
“Where we shall be if we fail. I will not go.”
“Your lands are broad, Vibrac. You are young, and life is dear.”
“My life is my own, and neither my lands nor yours of Duras were won with dishonor. And for the risk—I—I but stake myself, while you——”
I said no more, for he knew what I meant, and his brown cheek paled. As for me, for that moment I was innocent, I had conquered the past, and for once the dread breath that stirred the fires of evil within me lost its malign power. The whispering presence was there, ready as ever, but I was strong then. Would that that strength had continued! Ah! God in Heaven! Why dost Thou not stoop a little lower to help Thy creatures? And now I put aside the fiend with a curse, and swore again and again that I would die with Marcilly if need be, and we clasped hands once more on my oath, as we rode through the twilight of the woods of Russy, through the red sunset that lit up the old and gnarled trunks, and bronzed the tracery of branches overhead; a strange glow, that flushed the snow beneath us, that ran on the crests of the trees in a line of flame, and, falling on the gray of the distant woodlands, lit them with its glory, to sink at last in a trembling veil of empurpled shadows.
What thoughts stirred Marcilly I know not; but as I rode behind him, I was once more fighting with myself. I saw with horror that the past was still awake within me, and there was a black foreboding in my soul of evil to come. Again I clutched at the strength above me, again bent my head in silent prayer. I swore to myself that I would put to flight the hideous phantom that dogged me, and once more there came to me that momentary strength, that feeble power, that faints so weakly at the first stealthy footfall of temptation.