'Hush!'she muttered in answer,laying her feeble hand on my wrist and continuing to look,not at me,but at the door.
'Listen,Gaston!Don't you hear?There it is again.Again!'
For a moment I thought her mind still wandered,and I shivered,having no fondness for hearing such things.Then I saw she was listening intently to the sound which had attracted my notice.
The step had reached the landing by this time.The visitor,whoever it was,paused there a moment,being in darkness,and uncertain,perhaps,of the position of the door;but in a little while I heard him move forward again,my mother's fragile form,clasped as it was in my embrace,quivering with each step he took,as though his weight stirred the house.He tapped at the door.
I had thought,while I listened and wondered,of more than one whom this might be:the leech,Simon Fleix,Madame Bruhl,Fresnoy even.But as the tap came,and I felt my mother tremble in my arms,enlightenment came with it,and I pondered no more,Iknew as well as if she hail spoken and told me.There could be only one man whose presence had such power to terrify her,only one whose mere step,sounding through the veil,could drag her back to consciousness and fear!And that was the man who had beggared her,who had traded so long on her terrors.
I moved a little,intending to cross the floor softly,that when he opened the door he might find me face to face with him;but she detected the movement,and,love giving her strength,she clung to my wrist so fiercely that I had not the heart,knowing how slender was her hold on life and how near the brink she stood,to break from her.I constrained myself to stand still,though every muscle grew tense as a drawn bowstring,and I felt the strong rage rising in my throat and choking me as I waited for him to enter.
A log on the hearth gave way with a dull sound startling in the silence.The man tapped again,and getting no answer,for neither of us spoke,pushed the door slowly open,uttering before he showed himself the words,'Dieu vous benisse!'in a voice so low and smooth I shuddered at the sound.The next moment he came in and saw me,and,starting,stood at gaze,his head thrust slightly forward,his shoulders bent,his hand still on the latch,amazement and frowning spite in turn distorting his lean face.He had looked to find a weak,defenceless woman,whom he could torture and rob at his will;he saw instead a strong man armed,whose righteous anger he must have been blind indeed had he failed to read.
Strangest thing of all,we had met before!I knew him at once--he me.He was the same Jacobin monk whom I had seen at the inn on the Claine,and who had told me the news of Guise's death!
I uttered an exclamation of surprise on making this discovery,and my mother,freed suddenly,as it seemed,from the spell of fear,which had given her unnatural strength,sank back on the bed.Her grasp relaxed,and her breath came and went with so loud a rattle that I removed my gaze from him,and bent over her,full of concern and solicitude.Our eyes met.She tried to speak,and at last gasped,'Not now,Gaston!Let him--let him--'
Her lips framed the word 'go,'but she could not give it sound.
I understood,however,and in impotent wrath I waved my hand to him to begone.When I looked up he had already obeyed me.He had seized the first opportunity to escape.The door was closed,the lamp burned steadily,and we were alone.
I gave her a little Armagnac,which stood beside the bed for such an occasion,and she revived,and presently opened her eyes.But I saw at once a great change in her.The look of fear had passed altogether from her face,and one of sorrow,yet content,had taken its place.She laid her hand in mine,and looked up at me,being too weak,as I thought,to speak.But by-and-by,when the strong spirit had done its work,she signed to me to lower my head to her mouth.
'The King of Navarre,'she murmured-you are sure,Gaston--he will retain you is your--employments?'
Her pleading eyes were so close to mine,I felt no scruples such as some might have felt,seeing her so near death;but Ianswered firmly and cheerfully,'Madame,I am assured of it.
There is no prince in Europe so trustworthy or so good to his servants.'
