A red flush showed through the tan of his skin, then faded and left him livid – a very evil sight, as God lives. He flung his heavily-feathered hat upon the table, and carried his hand to his hilt.
“God’s blood!” he cried. “You shall answer me for this.”
I shook my head and smiled; but I made no sign of drawing.
“Monsieur, we must talk a while. I think that you had better.”
He raised his sullen eyes to mine. Perhaps the earnest impressiveness of my tones prevailed. Be that as it may, his half-drawn sword was thrust back with a click, and “What have you to say?” he asked.
“Be seated.” I motioned him to a chair by the table and when he had taken it I sat down opposite to him. Taking up a quill, I dipped it in the ink-horn that stood by, and drew towards me a sheet of paper.
“When you lured me into the wager touching Mademoiselle de Lavedan,” said I calmly, “you did so, counting upon certain circumstances, of which you alone had knowledge, that should render impossible the urging of my suit. That, Monsieur le Comte, was undeniably the action of a cheat. Was it not?”
“Damnation!” he roared, and would have risen, but, my hand upon his arm, I restrained him and pressed him back into his chair.
“By a sequence of fortuitous circumstances,” I pursued, “it became possible for me to circumvent the obstacle upon which you had based your calculations. Those same circumstances led later to my being arrested in error and in place of another man. You discovered how I had contravened the influence upon which you counted; you trembled to see how the unexpected had befriended me, and you began to fear for your wager.
“What did you do? Seeing me arraigned before you in your quality as King’s Commissioner, you pretended to no knowledge of me; you became blind to my being any but Lesperon the rebel, and you sentenced me to death in his place, so that being thus definitely removed I should be unable to carry out my undertaking, and my lands should consequently pass into your possession. That, monsieur, was at once the act of a thief and a murderer. Wait, monsieur; restrain yourself until I shall have done. To-day again fortune comes to my rescue. Again you see me slipping from your grasp, and you are in despair. Then, in the eleventh hour, Mademoiselle de Lavedan comes to you to plead for my life. By that act she gives you the most ample proof that your wager is lost. What would a gentleman, a man of honour, have done under these circumstances? What did you do? You seized that last chance; you turned it to the best account; you made this poor girl buy something from you; you made her sell herself to you for nothing – pretending that your nothing was a something of great value. What term shall we apply to that? To say that you cheated again seems hardly adequate.”
“By God, Bardelys!”
“Wait!” I thundered, looking him straight between the eyes, so that again he sank back cowed. Then resuming the calm with which hitherto I had addressed him, “Your cupidity,” said I, “your greed for the estates of Bardelys, and your jealousy and thirst to see me impoverished and so ousted from my position at Court, to leave you supreme in His Majesty’s favour, have put you to strange shifts for a gentleman, Chatellerault. Yet, wait.”
And, dipping my pen in the ink-horn, I began to write. I was conscious of his eyes upon me, and I could imagine his surmisings and bewildered speculations as my pen scratched rapidly across the paper. In a few moments it was done, and I tossed the pen aside. I took up the sandbox.
“When a man cheats, Monsieur le Comte, and is detected, he is invariably adjudged the loser of his stakes. On that count alone everything that you have is now mine by rights.” Again I had to quell an interruption. “But if we wave that point, and proceed upon the supposition that you have dealt fairly and honourably with me, why, then, monsieur, you have still sufficient evidence – the word of Mademoiselle, herself, in fact – that I have won my wager. And so, if we take this, the most lenient view of the case” – I paused to sprinkle the sand over my writing – “your estates are still lost to you, and pass to be my property.”
“Do they, by God?” he roared, unable longer to restrain himself, and leaping to his feet. “You have done, have you not? You have said all that you can call to mind? You have flung insults and epithets at me enough to earn the cutting of a dozen throats. You have dubbed me cheat and thief” – he choked in his passion – “until you have had your fill – is it not so? Now, listen to me, Master Bardelys, master spy, master buffoon, master masquerader! What manner of proceeding was yours to go to Lavedan under a false name? How call you that? Was that, perhaps, not cheating?”
“No, monsieur, it was not,” I answered quietly. “It was in the terms of your challenge that I was free to go to Lavedan in what guise I listed, employing what wiles I pleased. But let that be,” I ended, and, creasing the paper, I poured the sand back into the box, and dusted the document. “The point is hardly worth discussing at this time of day. If not one way, why, then, in another, your wager is lost.”
“Is it?” He set his arms akimbo and eyed me derisively, his thick-set frame planted squarely before me. “You are satisfied that it is so? Quite satisfied, eh?” He leered in my face. “Why, then, Monsieur le Marquis, we will see whether a few inches of steel will win it back for me.” And once more his hand flew to his hilt.
Rising, I flung the document I had accomplished upon the table. “Glance first at that,” said I.
He stopped to look at me in inquiry, my manner sowing so great a curiosity in him that his passion was all scattered before it. Then he stepped up to the table and lifted the paper. As he read, his hand shook, amazement dilated his eyes and furrowed his brow.
“What – what does it signify?” he gasped.
“It signifies that, although fully conscious of having won, I prefer to acknowledge that I have lost. I make over to you thus my estates of Bardelys, because, monsieur, I have come to realize that that wager was an infamous one – one in which a gentleman should have had no part – and the only atonement I can make to myself, my honour, and the lady whom we insulted – is that.”
“I do not understand,” he complained.
“I apprehend your difficulty, Comte. The point is a nice one. But understand at least that my Picardy estates are yours. Only, monsieur, you will be well advised to make your will forthwith, for you are not destined, yourself, to enjoy them.”
He looked at me, his glance charged with inquiry.
“His Majesty,” I continued, in answer to his glance, “is ordering your arrest for betraying the trust he had reposed in you and for perverting the ends of justice to do your own private murdering.”
“Mon Dieu!” he cried, falling of a sudden unto a most pitiful affright. “The King knows?”
“Knows?” I laughed. “In the excitement of these other matters you have forgotten to ask how I come to be at liberty. I have been to the King, monsieur, and I have told him what has taken place here at Toulouse, and how I was to have gone to the block tomorrow!”
“Scelerat!” he cried. “You have ruined me!” Rage and grief were blent in his accents. He stood before me, livid of face and with hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.
“Did you expect me to keep such a matter silent? Even had I been so inclined it had not been easy, for His Majesty had questions to ask me. From what the King said, monsieur, you may count upon mounting the scaffold in my stead. So be advised, and make your will without delay, if you would have your heirs enjoy my Picardy chateau.”
I have seen terror and anger distort men’s countenances, but never have I seen aught to compare with the disorder of Chatellerault at that moment. He stamped and raved and fumed. He poured forth a thousand ordures of speech in his frenzy; he heaped insults upon me and imprecations upon the King, whose lapdog he pronounced me. His short, stout frame was quivering with passion and fear, his broad face distorted by his hideous grimaces of rage. And then, while yet his ravings were in full flow, the door opened, and in stepped the airy Chevalier de Saint-Eustache.