‘I have thought,’ I rejoined.
But my voice shook, my lips were dry. The room had grown dark. The rock outside, intercepting the light, gave it already the air of a dungeon. Though I did not dream of yielding to him, though I even felt that in this interview he had descended to my level, and I had had the better of him, I felt my heart sink. For I remembered how men immured in prisons drag out their lives always petitioning, always forgotten; how wearily the days go, that to free men are bright with hope and ambition. And I saw in a flash what it would be to remain here, or in some such place; never to cross horse again, or breathe the free air of Heaven, never to hear the clink of sword against stirrup, or the rich tones of M. d’Agen’s voice calling for his friend!
I expected M. de Turenne to go when I had made my answer, or else to fall into such a rage as opposition is apt to cause in those who seldom encounter it. To my surprise, however, he restrained himself. ‘Come,’ he said, with patience which fairly astonished me, and so much the more as chagrin was clearly marked in his voice, ‘I know where you put your trust. You think the King of Navarre will protect you. Well, I pledge you the honour of Turenne that he will not; that the King of Navarre will do nothing to save you. Now, what do you say?’
‘As I said before,’ I answered doggedly.
He took up the parchment from the table with a grim laugh. ‘So much the worse for you then!’ he said, shrugging his shoulders. ‘So much the worse for you! I took you for a rogue! It seems you are a fool!’
CHAPTER XXXVI. ‘VIVE LE ROI!’
He took his leave with those words. But his departure, which I should have hailed a few minutes before with joy, as a relief from embarrassment and humiliation, found me indifferent. The statement to which he had solemnly pledged himself in regard to the King of Navarre, that I could expect no further help from him, had prostrated me; dashing my hopes and spirits so completely that I remained rooted to the spot long after his step had ceased to sound on the stairs. If what he said was true, in the gloom which darkened alike my room and my prospects I could descry no glimmer of light. I knew His Majesty’s weakness and vacillation too well to repose any confidence in him; if the King of Navarre also abandoned me, I was indeed without hope, as without resource.
I had stood some time with my mind painfully employed upon this problem, which my knowledge of M. de Turenne’s strict honour in private matters did not allow me to dismiss lightly, when I heard another step on the stairs, and in a moment M. la Varenne opened the door. Finding me in the dark he muttered an apology for the remissness of the servants; which I accepted, seeing nothing else for it, in good part.
‘We have been at sixes-and-sevens all day, and you have been forgotten,’ he continued. ‘But you will have no reason to complain now. I am ordered to conduct you to His Majesty without delay.’