Chapter IX: The Toledo Blade (3)

"I think you had cause," said the elder man suddenly. "I had no right to read you a homily." He held out his hand. Then Laurent was back in the place which would shortly see the scales dip to one side or the other with his dearest friend's honour in the balance--the place which he hated and which, at the same time, he was only too thankful to set eyes on again. For he had had a horrible fright. But a precious grain of consolation was that among the more than doubled number of faces in the audience this morning one was missing. It would grin here no more and was almost certainly not grinning where it was now. The President began by saying that he had an announcement to make. Since M. le Général d'Andigné, now military governor of Maine-et-Loire was staying a couple of nights in the neighbourhood, he himself had so far presumed on their very old acquaintance as to ask him, with the approval of the Court, to give them the benefit of his ripe experience in this difficult and delicate case . . . that was, subject to M. de la Rocheterie's having no objection. M. de la Rocheterie here signifying that he had none--on the contrary--Sol de Grisolles intimated that he had sent M. d'Andigné a short summary of the case as far as it had gone yesterday, so that if he came, he would be au courant. Meanwhile, they had better proceed from the point at which they left off yesterday.

So the hapless de Fresne took his stand once more at the witness-table. Laurent tried not to listen. "Fouquier-Tinville" and the stout officer between them seemed determined to probe into every minute of the interval before de Fresne's return to the wood; hence Aymar also was on his feet most of the time. Laurent began to foresee that every detail of the shooting, too, would have to be gone over again, perhaps more fully. And all to what purpose? There was nothing to discover.

Oh, what would happen if they could not see their way to clearing Aymar? It began to be torture to him to look at the figure in front of him, especially when the bronze head turned a little, and he caught the outline of the sunken cheek.

"I can't stand much more of this!" he whispered at last to M. Perrelet.

"They will not go on at it forever," the optimist whispered back, and he laid his hand over the young man's and gave it a squeeze.

"But there's nothing else to go on to!" replied Laurent miserably.

Why could they not believe Aymar's word when he said that he had all but arranged the plan with Saint-Etienne? How was it possible to look at him and think him capable of infamy? Were they all blind? And why did M. d'Andigné delay? Perhaps he was not coming, after all? He was a great man, just about to be made a peer of France, and very busy at the moment settling the King's peace in Brittany But, if he did come, surely he, the Vendean general of so much experience, he, the phenomenally cool-headed and resourceful, the hero of the incredible escapes from the Fort de Joux and the citadel of Besançon, the man of untarnished integrity and honour, _he_ would recognize that Aymar was telling the truth!

Or, suppose that he did not!

The accursed stout officer seemed now to be criticizing Aymar's intentions and dispositions during those three days in the wood, and as it went on Laurent wondered at Aymar's patience under it. The inquisitor had just ascertained that the nearest Bonapartist troops were no more than eight miles away, at Arbelles.

"Only eight miles!" he exclaimed. "I am surprised, Monsieur de la Rocheterie, that you did not try to withdraw to a safer position! Surely you must have known that you were very dangerously placed, and that you could not hope to do anything there with ninety men!"

And Aymar said nothing.

Suddenly M. du Tremblay leant forward and addressed the speaker.

"Not do anything with ninety men, Monsieur de Noirlieu? Why not? Have you forgotten that M. de la Rocheterie held the famous Moulin Brûlé for four and a half hours against five hundred regulars with--how many men precisely had you with you at Penescouët, Monsieur de la Rocheterie?"

"Eighteen," replied Aymar.

Something hardly distinguishable from applause ran round the audience. And du Tremblay went on quickly, addressing the President, "I trust, mon Général, that I am in order in laying stress on the necessity of remembering and allowing weight to those brilliant services in the past of which M. de la Rocheterie himself is careful not to remind us. As regards the handling of irregular levies, has not L'Oiseleur, young as he is, had more experience and successful experience than any one here except yourself?"

Sol de Grisolles nodded, and the Marquis de la Boëssière remarked, "Certainly more than I have had. I am glad that you have said what you have said, Monsieur du Tremblay."

So was Laurent. He would have bestowed a decoration on M. du Tremblay.

"Yes," said M. de Noirlieu obstinately, "and that past experience is just why M. de la Rocheterie's remaining so near the enemy at Arbelles is so inexplicable."

There was nothing to be done with that man but drown him! Surely Aymar was going to give the very good reason he had for staying in the Bois des Fauvettes as long as he could! But in any case he had not the chance, for "Fouquier-Tinville" observed quickly,

"It is explicable enough on a certain hypothesis--which I do not wish to press. But I should be greatly obliged if M. de la Rocheterie would give us the reason for another delay of his which also needs explanation. I only trust they are not susceptible of the same."

Aymar's head went up. "To what delay are you referring, Monsieur?"

"To the very considerable one which you have shown in courting this enquiry. You were released on the 16th of June. Even if your health was not then sufficiently re-established for you to go to the General-in-Chief in person, why did you not at least communicate with him if, as you assure us, you were so anxious to clear yourself? You made no move whatever for a month, until the middle of July. Is that not true?"

"Yes, it is quite true," said Aymar steadily. He drew a long breath, and Laurent saw his fingers tighten on the paper he was holding.

"I suggest that the month's inaction, then, needs some justification," observed "Fouquier-Tinville" suavely.

In the silence that followed Laurent said to himself, "He was ill, unfit for it, you bully!" But would Aymar say that, since it was not the real reason? No, of course he would not! He replied at last, very coldly and quietly, looking down a little, "The reason for the delay was a purely private one."

"A reason that you would prefer not to give the Court?" suggested "Fouquier-Tinville" with a twist of the lips.

"A reason," retorted Aymar, not without a measure of defiance, "that I am not called upon to give the Court!"

At last something had been found which L'Oiseleur would not answer.

"It had nothing in common, then," demanded the inquisitor meaningly, "with your reason for remaining so long near the enemy in the Bois des Fauvettes?"

Aymar started. "Certainly not. The one was purely military; the other, as I have said, was personal."

"And you refuse to----" But a stir arose at the end of the hall, and he broke off. Laurent turned his head, and saw a glitter of staff uniforms. General d'Andigné had come!

He walked alertly to the dais, while the whole audience rose to their feet, he saluted the Court, who had also risen, was on the platform shaking hands, and, in a very short time indeed, having swept a keen glance round, was reading the notes of the morning's proceedings.

And Laurent, studying him, saw a blue-eyed man in the fifties, of no great height, with a fine, almost leonine head from whose brow the silvering fair hair was receding, and a slightly prominent underlip--a man who gave the impression of exceptional humour and vitality allied to a rare imperturbability. . . . But Laurent's deep interest in him was abruptly diverted. What had happened to Aymar? He was leaning with both hands on the little table before him almost as if he were physically overcome. Then he suddenly sat down, and, supporting his head on his hand, pulled his notes towards him. Laurent could see how deadly pale he was, and that the hand with which he was turning over the papers was shaking. "It's the strain," he thought desperately. "It's telling at last; he won't get through!"

D'Andigné suddenly raised his fine head. "Monsieur le Président, I should like to make a remark. With regard to the suppositions raised by this shooting, surely the very fact that the men immediately suspected M. de Fresne on his return entirely disposes of the theory that in the three preceding days they had discovered some proof of M. de la Rocheterie's guilt?--I might go further, and point out that it was solely to save M. de Fresne from those unjust suspicions that M. de la Rocheterie showed his men the letter . . . with the consequences to himself of which we know. Is that not so?"

"That is most certainly so, mon Général," responded de Fresne warmly. "M. de la Rocheterie undoubtedly sacrificed himself to save me."

"But, in the circumstances, could any honourable man have done less?" enquired M. de Margadel.

"No, he certainly could not," responded d'Andigné like a flash. "But then you are trying to show that he is not an honourable man. . . . And may I not also point out that, so far from his suppressing witnesses (which I see that some of you gentlemen are inclined to suspect) he here lost an unrivalled opportunity of allowing the most formidable witness against him to be suppressed by other hands. Had he let things take their course, and allowed M. de Fresne to be shot instead of him--which seems quite a likely thing to have happened--he would have got rid of the odium of the charge as well as of an adverse witness, for the man who had paid the penalty would have carried the guilt also with him to his grave. His execution would probably have cleared M. de la Rocheterie in popular opinion. Surely these considerations must have occurred to you?"

"I knew he would see things in a proper light!" said Laurent, whose spirits had gone up like a balloon, to M. Perrelet, while the Court conferred over this, and M. d'Andigné, his chin propped on his fist, darted glance after glance at L'Oiseleur's bent head.

"I think," announced the President at length, "that the Court does not wish to ask M. de Fresne any further questions. Have you any more witnesses to call, Monsieur de la Rocheterie?"

"Yes, two!" ejaculated Laurent under his breath.

And Aymar stood up--but it was not to call him. He threw back his head. "I call Monsieur le Général d'Andigné," he said in a clear voice. "That is, if he has not forgotten," he finished a little breathlessly. Laurent fell back in his chair.

Amid the universal sensation M. d'Andigné got briskly to his feet. "I was hoping that I should not have to be so pushing as to call myself," he remarked pleasantly. "Will you question me, Monsieur de la Rocheterie--I am entirely at your service--or shall I have the honour of myself giving the Court an account of our last--our first--meeting at the _Abeille d'Or_ at Keraven on the afternoon of April the 27th?"

"The latter, if you please, General," answered Aymar.

(11)

When Laurent was in an argumentative mood he would assert that it was very wrong of M. d'Andigné, even if he were organizing with great secrecy, not so much to have gone about under an assumed name (since under his own he would have been far too dangerous to be left at large) but to have kept up his incognito in front of L'Oiseleur that day at Keraven when Saint-Etienne, being from his own province of Anjou, knew all the time who "M. du Parc" really was. However, he would acknowledge that on this occasion M. d'Andigné made what amends he could by the declaration with which he ended his short and convincing narrative. For he said, with emphasis, that it was he who ought to be exculpating himself. "I ought to have known better what attractions a risk holds for a young and ardent fighter, when I presented M. de la Rocheterie with the idea of the mouse and the two cats, and even illustrated it from a little piece of good fortune of my own in the old days. Had I not been all these weeks, as you know, engaged in military operations elsewhere, I should have heard of Pont-aux-Rochers before, and I could have taken some steps to mitigate the terrible consequences which an ill-timed suggestion of mine has brought on a gallant and honourable man. I am at least thankful that Fate has given me this belated opportunity for testimony."

He sat down again. Aymar, his hands clenched, tried to thank him, but his words were scarcely audible. As for Laurent, he was so radiant that it was all he could do to prevent himself darting forward to his friend, and, though he knew it not, M. d'Andigné, whom little escaped, was smiling at his very patent exultation.

"Well, gentlemen," said Sol de Grisolles, looking round with a satisfied air, "this puts a very different complexion on affairs. I little thought I was summoning the missing witness when I invited M. d'Andigné to attend as an assessor. As the Court has felt all along, the great weakness of M. de la Rocheterie's case has been the lack of conclusive evidence that his plan was already all but settled upon. But now we have impeccable testimony to that fact." He looked round the table once more. "I suggest, therefore . . . Yes, Monsieur de Noirlieu?"

"In spite of what M. le Général d'Andigné has pointed out to us," said that persistent investigator, "there is still one more point which I emphatically feel should be cleared up. What happened after M. de la Rocheterie was found shot, in the--how many weeks was it?--that he was at the château d'Arbelles? Might it not be said that it was because he had rendered a great service to the Imperialists that they rescued him, nursed him, and released him of their own free will . . . that he was, in short, less their prisoner than . . . their guest?"

Laurent, bristling, gave a kind of snort, and Aymar raised his head sharply. D'Andigné's face was a study in expression. The Court themselves seemed a little taken aback, then someone remarked, "Yes, if any evidence is available, it might be as well to know what were M. de la Rocheterie's relations with the Imperialists during his captivity, and the reason for his release."

"Perhaps M. de la Rocheterie will enlighten us," said Sol de Grisolles.

"I can do better, mon Général," responded Aymar rather grimly. "As it happens I can produce two witnesses as to the terms on which I was with the occupants of Arbelles. I will call first M. le Comte de Courtomer, late aide-de-camp to M. d'Autichamp, who was imprisoned in the same room with me for the whole time, excepting the first night. Monsieur de Courtomer!"

At last! Had Laurent not been so furious with M. de Noirlieu at that moment he might have been grateful to him for procuring him this chance. But--Aymar a guest at Arbelles! He could hear for once in his friend's voice his deep and justifiable indignation. But it was M. de Noirlieu who was going to be annoyed before he, Laurent, had finished, for he would look the fool he was.

He was excited but fairly self-possessed as he stood at the little table, and began with reasonable lucidity to tell the story of those weeks at Arbelles. The early days came back to him so clearly as he spoke that, when he got to the happenings of "Friday," the memory of that scene, bubbling up fresh like lava, led him into an account of it more vivid than Aymar appeared to appreciate, as he sat there with his head between his fists, enduring it as best he might.

At any rate, Laurent made abundantly clear the point he had so desired at supper last night to emphasize--that Aymar, fighting with his last conscious breath that nothing should escape his lips, had nearly given his life for his comrade's victory. . . . Du Tremblay had his hand over his eyes as Laurent went on to testify that for the remaining weeks there were no relations whatever between the Bonapartists and their prisoner, and to detail what occurred on Colonel Guitton's return. "And that is how and for what reason," he concluded, "M. de la Rocheterie was released--or, as some might say, turned out--from Arbelles."

"Thank you, Monsieur de Courtomer," said the President out of the ensuing silence, and Laurent turned and went to his place. He had not been asked a single question; and, as nobody seemed disposed to put one, Aymar observed that, since this evidence did not cover the first hours of his sojourn at Arbelles, and it might be supposed that he had had friendly relations with the Bonapartists on the day of his arrival, if on no other, he would call the doctor who attended him to prove that that was impossible.

M. Perrelet, looking very rotund as he stood forth, was extremely business-like and medical. He described in technical language M. de la Rocheterie's very critical condition when he was summoned to him, and during the whole of that first night; while Laurent behind whispered delightedly to de Fresne, "That will knock that idiot into a cocked hat! Listen to the long words and the Latin rolling out!"

"My patient," pronounced the little doctor, "was profoundly unconscious from the moment of his arrival. In any case a man so near death as he from haemorrhage is not capable of having relations with any one, friend or foe. . . . And since I am here," he went on unasked, but unchecked, "you will like to know, gentlemen, that I can more than corroborate what M. de Courtomer has said of the disastrous effects of Colonel Guitton's inquisition a few days later. As to the turning out, which was done in my absence, I was thunderstruck when I heard of it, and not in the least surprised that in consequence I had to attend M. de la Rocheterie for a threatened attack of pneumonia. He had a very narrow escape of it. Hardly the treatment, altogether, that one accords to a 'guest'!"

M. de Noirlieu, to Laurent's joy, was looking sour enough now. He fidgeted with some papers for an instant and then said: "Yes, that's very convincing--medically. One cannot argue with a doctor. . . . You were not present, I understand, at the interview with the Colonel over those cipher notes?"

"No, but I came in the moment afterwards, to find M. de la Rocheterie almost _in extremis_," replied M. Perrelet rather snappily.

"I should like M. de Courtomer recalled," said M. de Noirlieu.

Laurent came back, full of fight, but wondering what the stout imbecile wanted now.

"M. de la Rocheterie was, I presume, aware of your presence in the room, Monsieur de Courtomer, throughout this . . . unpleasant scene with the Colonel?"

"I should imagine he had something else to think about!" retorted Laurent with hostility. In a flash he saw what he was after--the man was a second Guitton!

"He must have known that you were present. Did you, Monsieur de la Rocheterie?"

"I did," said Aymar curtly.

"And you were aware that he was a Royalist officer--one of your own side?"

"I was aware of it."

M. de Noirlieu lifted his shoulders. "I think, gentlemen, that significant fact considerably detracts from the value of M. de la Rocheterie's refusal to give information--viewed as evidence to character, that is. Is it likely that he would have given it in front of a fellow-officer?"

"May I speak, Monsieur le Président?" burst out the witness.

Sol de Grisolles nodded.

"That--that . . ." (he managed to swallow the qualification) "point of view was precisely Colonel Guitton's when he had failed. I should have thought that this Court . . ." (again he struggled with himself and abandoned the sentence). "Gentlemen, as this last interpretation has been launched, you ought in justice to know that when, later on, Colonel Guitton--for it was by his connivance--resorted to other means to make M. de la Rocheterie betray a comrade, and there was nobody there but the----"

Aymar made a little gesture, and said in a low, quick voice, "For Heaven's sake, stop, Laurent! That is not relevant!"

But Laurent took no notice, and went on as fast as he could, "--He opposed precisely the same refusal to that different method. You see, mon Général, I was safely hidden, but when the search-party found M. de la Rocheterie ill at the farm----"

He was interrupted again. "One moment, please," said the Marquis de la Boëssière. "This is a little too elliptical for us to follow. Are we to understand that you were released at the same time as M. de la Rocheterie, or what?"

And Aymar seized the opportunity to rise and say with authority, "That will do, thank you, Monsieur de Courtomer. We need not trouble the Court with totally irrelevant matter. You can stand down."

But a distinct murmur of "No, no!" went round. Laurent glanced at Aymar; he meant what he said, no doubt of it. Then he hesitated and looked at the tribunal.

"--But we should like to hear it, irrelevant or no," said the President.

Aymar was obliged to give in. He sat down. Laurent did not look at him. He answered the previous question. "No, I was not released, sir. I escaped the same evening and joined M. de la Rocheterie. We went to a farm, and, as you have heard, he was ill from the exposure, and it was then that a party from the château came to search for me; and when they could not find me, but had M. de la Rocheterie at their mercy, _alone_, they tried just as vainly to make him betray me by----"

But here Laurent came to an abrupt stop.

"Well, Monsieur de Courtomer?" asked the President after a moment.

Awful and surprising finish! Laurent had so ached to tell this story of heroism and endurance, and now he could not. His own sensations of the time came back too vividly, and closed up his throat, precluding speech. Besides, his tongue did not seem able to find a way of uttering the thing. He stood there, mute and agonized, with everyone--save Aymar--gazing at him.

"Do you mean that they threatened him?" suggested the Marquis de la Boëssière.

And as the hitherto voluble witness shook his head he said almost impatiently,

"What were the means they used, then?"

At that Laurent managed--but only just--to bring it out.

"They used . . . a red-hot ramrod!" he gasped; and fled the table.

(12)

There was an instant's electric silence. "_What!_" exclaimed several incredulous and horrified voices from the dais, M. d'Andigné's among them. "Good--God!" said the Marquis de la Boëssière slowly.

But Laurent, without waiting for permission, was already back in his place, his elbows on his knees, his head between his fists, heedless of what, under cover of the general sensation, M. Perrelet on the one side was disjointedly asking him, and of de Fresne swearing below his breath on the other. "Ought I to have done it? ought I to have done it?" he was saying to himself. "And will he forgive me?"

And all through the low-voiced conference among the Court which followed, and the subdued hum of the audience, he was more and more conscious (though he dared only glance at it) of the back of that figure in front of him. At first Aymar had covered his face. Suppose he did not forgive him!

Ah, here was Sol de Grisolles getting to his feet at last.

"I think, gentlemen, that we do not need any more testimony as to M. de la Rocheterie's conduct after the disaster, and as we now have M. d'Andigné's evidence as to the _bona fides_ of the scheme he used, the case is practically at an end. None of the Court has any further questions to ask, since we do not propose to enquire into this last shocking episode. Have you yourself, Monsieur de la Rocheterie, anything more that you wish to say?"

Aymar lifted his head from his hands and stood up. "Nothing, thank you, mon Général."

"Then I declare the case closed, and I will ask all present to withdraw while the Court deliberates."

They followed the orderly to a little room opening off the hall. Directly the door was closed Colonel Richard went up to Aymar.

"I am more horrified than I can say at hearing of your treatment at Arbelles," he said, in a voice which indeed showed his strong emotion. "And as for this last outrage--torture--I have no words for it!"

Aymar flushed. "Oh, that was nothing. And I had no intention whatever of having it brought out in Court--I never dreamt of such a thing."

Laurent could not bear the sensation of estrangement (and at this juncture, too) a moment longer. He turned round. "Aymar!" he began imploringly . . . but the Imperialist had not finished.

"I have been deeply shocked also to hear in detail what my own action led to. Had I not surrendered that letter----"

"And if I, still more, had not taken it back to the wood!" put in de Fresne.

"Gentlemen," said M. Perrelet, also intervening, and plucking the last two speakers by the arm, "I think that if M. de la Rocheterie--you will remember that he has been very ill--were to sit down quietly now. . . ."

"Of course," said Colonel Richard instantly, and he and de Fresne withdrew themselves, while M. Perrelet shepherded his ex-patient to a bench in the corner, and sat down in silence beside him, with a hand on his wrist.

Near Laurent, Colonel Richard and de Fresne were now commenting optimistically on d'Andigné's extraordinarily opportune appearance. But Laurent had no eyes for any one save Aymar, sitting there silent with closed eyes, his head against the wall. His face was like a cameo, as drained of colour and as passionless, too; he gave the impression of having passed beyond suspense, but of being nearly slain with fatigue.

But as the offender miserably studied him the closed eyes opened. Aymar looked across at him and smiled. Then he made a little motion with his other hand. Laurent went, hesitatingly, and sat down by him (the guardian on the other side not attempting to say him nay), and though Aymar did not stir and had shut his eyes again, the hand which had beckoned Laurent there closed on his. He was forgiven--without a word.

And in the odd silence which now fell on all of them he, holding that hand, had to force himself to realize that this was the crisis, the dividing line, that Aymar's whole future hung on what those men in there (how could he so flippantly have called them the Nine Muses?) were deciding. They could not now find him guilty, after M. d'Andigné's evidence. But suppose they were not sufficiently agreed to acquit him? There was "Fouquier-Tinville" and that stubborn de Noirlieu. Oh, that was inconceivable! A fit of bitter revolt seized him. Why had Aymar submitted himself into their hands? As if their opinion mattered!

But it did matter, now! Involuntarily, he clutched the cold hand tighter. De Fresne had begun to walk nervously up and down, but Colonel Richard was still leaning against the wall with his arms folded; the doctor was watching Aymar attentively. . . .

Steps outside--the orderly at last. There was nothing to be learnt from his face. "If you will come back now, gentlemen?"

Their hands fell apart. Aymar got up instantly. Without a look, even at Laurent, he walked to the door, and the others followed him in silence. It came to Laurent, as they went through, that by the position of the sword on the table they would know his fate. So, not very sensibly, he shut his eyes for a second. . . . Then the blood rushed to his head. The hilt of Aymar's sword was towards him. . . . Somehow he was back in his place, standing as they all were, his attention divided between the President risen to address the acquitted, and Aymar's motionless figure in front of him. Why had the old Chouan put on spectacles to deliver judgment, since he was looking over, not through them? His voice came, relieved and kindly:

"I have great pleasure in announcing to you, Monsieur de la Rocheterie, that the Court unanimously finds you innocent of the slightest intention of treachery when you sent your subordinate's letter to the Imperialists, and holds that you had sufficient grounds for considering your preconceived plan feasible. It does not, therefore, blame you, in the exceptional circumstances, for attempting to carry it out. For your efforts to prevent the disaster and your whole conduct afterwards we have nothing but praise, and not least for your courage in voluntarily submitting to a very painful ordeal. And if you will come forward, Monsieur, I shall most gladly restore to you your sword . . . untarnished."

There was an uncontrollable burst of applause from the audience, through which Laurent heard M. Perrelet beside him sniffing audibly. Aymar moved; took two steps forward, and then put his hand to his head and hesitated. Laurent was conscious of a violent nudge from M. Perrelet, and his voice saying in a loud whisper, "Go with him; he's pretty well finished!" So he took L'Oiseleur by the arm from behind and steered him forward to the dais, and was thankful to see that the President, realizing the state of affairs, was not waiting for him to mount the steps to the table, but was coming round to the top of them with the sword. And here, with a word or two of congratulation, he laid the weapon in its owner's hands. Aymar lifted it to his lips, tried to say something . . . then, clutching it to his breast, reeled suddenly backwards into the arms of Laurent and du Tremblay, who already on the watch, had jumped down from his place at the end of the table.

He was indeed "finished"; but they kept him on his feet until, someone producing a chair, they lowered him into it, and Laurent, kneeling by him with his arm round him, disengaged the sword from his grasp. In another moment M. Perrelet was bending over him.

"Give him time, gentlemen! . . . Unfit for this . . . a great strain. But he will be himself again in a little." Nevertheless, he had thrust his hand inside the breast of Aymar's uniform. "Water?--yes, thank you!"

And Aymar's head lay against Laurent's shoulder, and Laurent, who rather thought he was crying himself, and didn't care, was battling with a most unseasonable desire to kiss it there, before everyone; and would very likely have succumbed only that he was sure Aymar had not quite lost consciousness.

Meanwhile, the Court had broken up into little groups; the audience, though deeply interested, and disposed to quit their seats, kept their distance. And in a short while, after a period of being finely confused at what had happened, Aymar had recovered, and stood up, and Laurent, with shaking fingers, fastened on his sword--he and no other. No other save he had even touched it.

And, nursing that smaller joy amid the greater, he stood away watching the little scene of congratulation that ensued, members of the Court and of the audience alike crowding round that central figure to shake hands. So he witnessed the long grip, the long wordless look, which du Tremblay gave.

Last of all came d'Andigné, with that fine smile, and said something in a low voice which Laurent could not catch; but he saw Aymar flush, and knew that it was with pleasure. But he did hear the General say, "Then you will give me the pleasure of your company at supper to-night . . . as a proof that you bear me no ill-will, Monsieur de la Rocheterie? I would suggest, in order to spare you the fatigue of the return journey from Kermelven, where I am staying, that you spend the night at my château; and I shall give myself the privilege of sending the carriage for you. I should like also," he went on, "to extend the invitation to your friend M. de Courtomer, whose acquaintance I am anxious to make."

Aymar turned and beckoned, and Laurent, as he was presented, braced himself for the ignominy of confessing that he was not in a position to accept this glorious invitation. Aymar would not remember his disability . . . . But what was he saying? "I am afraid, General, that M. de Courtomer will be unable to have the honour of supping with you, unless you can put in a word for him in the proper quarter. I regret to say that he is under arrest."

M. d'Andigné's keen gaze turned on the culprit. "Dear me, what for?"

"Because," said Aymar, half smiling, "he had a difference of opinion with an officer of M. de Margadel's last night, and as the officer is in bed this morning, and likely to remain there. . . ."

"I see," said the Chevalier d'Andigné with a twinkle. "Oh, I think that can be arranged, Monsieur de la Rocheterie . . . yes, I think I can take that on myself. Our little festival would be very incomplete without M. de Courtomer. Of course, he will honour me by staying the night also." He turned directly to Laurent. "I think I can guess what the difference of opinion was about, can I not?" and as Laurent did not answer, he put his hand for a moment on his shoulder and gave it a little pressure. After which he asked Aymar if he would be so obliging as to make him acquainted with Colonel Richard, with whose general he had been having some correspondence about combining to keep the unnecessary Prussians out of Brittany. So Aymar crossed the hall with him.

Meanwhile, M. Perrelet had requested de Fresne to procure a carriage. "We will drive him home," he said to Laurent and, drawing him aside, "Oh, my dear boy, that ramrod story! And I had deserted him; you had no doctor for those burns!" There were tears in the little man's eyes.

"Oh, come," responded Laurent, "Mme Allard and I did not do so badly, doctor. I shall set up in your line some day." He spoke thus hilariously because, really, his eyes were in much the same state as M. Perrelet's. It was so wonderful, so adorable of Aymar, in the midst of his own triumph and relief, to remember his plight, and to be collected enough to seize the one available opportunity of getting him out of it.

De Fresne here came back and reported that there was a large and enthusiastic crowd gathered about the steps outside.

"There is no doubt," he added in a satisfied tone, "that the finding of the Court is popular." As he said it d'Andigné, Colonel Richard, and Aymar all returned their way, talking together.

"I should be most willing, Monsieur," came the Imperialist's voice. "If we combine, foes though we have been, it could be done. We are all Frenchmen. I know that General Lamarque is most anxious to do it."

"We will enlist L'Oiseleur also in the task," said General d'Andigné.

"But I . . . I have no men now," said Aymar, colouring.

"You have--what I once wished you, Monsieur, if you remember--your sword again," said Colonel Richard.

"It's your brains, your advice that I want, Monsieur de la Rocheterie," said the Royalist. "It will be a matter of arrangement with our allies, after we have come to an understanding with our compatriots. We can talk about it this evening. And if only you had the famous _jartier_ back we could try the effects of that on the Prussians."

"But I have got it back," confessed Aymar, "and it is mended, and I am wearing it at this moment. It is at your service."

"Mended, eh?" said d'Andigné. "Magically, no doubt?"

Aymar suddenly wheeled round and put his hand on Laurent's shoulder. "Yes, magically," he said. "_He_ mended it . . . like a good many other things."

His smile pretty well finished Laurent.

To cover his confusion he went out to the steps. His appearance was the signal for a burst of cheering which very quickly drove him in again. The crowd was much larger and more expectant than he had realized. He clutched Aymar, just turning away from du Tremblay, by the arm. "Can you hear them?" he asked. "In England, you know, we should take the horses out and drag the carriage. I wonder if MM. de Fresne and Perrelet are game?"

"I am," observed the little doctor gaily, but Aymar, beginning to move rather unwillingly towards the door, observed that for nothing on earth would he trust himself behind Laurent as a horse in his present frame of mind. "You might take the bit between your teeth and bolt again," he added with a meaning smile. And he put a hand on the culprit's shoulder and gave him a little shake. "I don't believe you are an atom penitent, either. And what was so unpardonable, Laurent, was the inexactitude! I had told you so many times that it was _not_ red-hot!"

Laurent choked back a queer sound. "Aymar, you really are impayable! . . . What's the matter?"

Aymar had caught sight of the crowd. "Must I go through that? I would rather face the ramrod again."

"I'm afraid you must," said Laurent, and seeing that de Fresne and M. Perrelet and du Tremblay were close behind L'Oiseleur, he darted down the steps to open the carriage door. So, without meaning to, but with delight, he saw the picture he should unendingly possess for his own--Aymar coming down the steps after his ordeal, neither triumphant nor abashed, but just his own quiet and gallant self.

He had so much eyes only for that descending figure in its beautiful and unconscious perfection of poise, that it was not till afterwards that there came to him out of memory the stored scraps he had heard from the populace as he waited there--among people who wanted to shake hands with him, too, which rather bored him. "He would not tell--he saved M. du Tremblay--that's M. du Tremblay himself--they say he was actually tortured--how pale he looks--I knew a man who was with him in the Moulin Brûlé----" and the only other actual visual impression he retained, that of a middle-aged Breton with a firelock slung across his goatskin, reverently removing his broad-brimmed hat as Aymar passed--the Chouan who had spat at him yesterday.

(13)

Laurent was in crazy spirits during the meal which followed at Mme Leblanc's. Particularly did the good M. Perrelet appreciate his sallies; and even de Fresne, who made the fourth, relaxed into amusement. "I shall no longer be a 'guest' at that disgusting convent; to-night we shall both be M. d'Andigné's 'prisoners.'--Do you imagine, Aymar, that old de Noirlieu will be there--a 'prisoner,' too? I wish Guitton cadet could be . . . as a footman! I shall go and serenade him with the news this afternoon; and I shall write to Rigault, and he can tell them all at Arbelles. Oh, I forgot, Arbelles is evacuated."

"And in any case," observed Aymar, "they would only say that Saint Sebastian----"

Laurent dropped his knife and fork. His jaw dropped also. "Where on earth . . . I always hoped that you never knew. . . ."

"My dear Laurent," replied L'Oiseleur, smiling, "your walks on the terrace did not give you the monopoly of the bons mots of Arbelles. I also had the privilege of hearing them during my one visit to the library."

"Of course," said Laurent, when he had got over this, "it was really M. Perrelet who turned the scale, not M. d'Andigné at all. Imagine being able to hurl about missiles like 'ecchymosis' and 'haemorrhage'! I am considering adopting the first as an oath."

"I think," observed M. Perrelet, wiping his eyes (for his was not an exacting sense of humour), "that you had better go and work this off outside, my boy. I cannot allow you to remain in the house, because Aymar" (he made no bones about the Christian name) "is going to bed this afternoon so as to be in trim for the evening."

So a little later Aymar, lying on his bed, looked up at the young man and the old and remarked that they were both of them nothing but tyrants at bottom, and that when they got together one was simply crushed. "Not," he added, shutting his eyes, "that the process is altogether repugnant."

"I wish, my poor boy," said M. Perrelet softly, "that I had been there to tyrannize over this!" And he gently drew his hand down his right arm. Before Aymar could answer he had left the little room.

Laurent stood a moment longer. Then he suddenly dropped on his knees and hid his face against the bed.

"Oh, Aymar, at last . . . at last!"

Aymar gave a long, deep, tired sigh. "It was wonderful. . . . And _his_ coming like that--a miracle. . . ."

"_You_ were wonderful!" said Laurent unsteadily.

Perhaps that evening was the most wonderful of all. No more efficacious method of rehabilitation could probably have been devised than that supper with General d'Andigné and his staff, where L'Oiseleur was plainly the guest of the evening, and where yet the host, with exquisite tact, so arranged matters that it seemed the most natural thing in the world that he should be there, and not a festivity with an object. And, in Laurent's eyes, the unanswering patience, courage, and dignity which Aymar had displayed throughout the enquiry, against perpetual odds both of bodily weakness and of circumstance, found here something of their fitting recognition. In the seventh heaven himself, he thought that, despite the marks of strain, of illness, and of fatigue, there was no one in the room (except possibly M. d'Andigné himself) who could hold a candle to him for distinction. And there were moments when he looked as he had done before the catastrophe, when he might indeed have been the Aymar of the Paris reception. But he would never be quite the same again. To Laurent, at least, he was even more admirable.

Yes, he had come through the sombre forest at last, he had everything back again now . . . all but one thing, probably, to him, the most precious of all.

Very late that night, after the guests had dispersed, Laurent went into the room near his which had been assigned to his friend. It was a room so large that two candles had little effect on it, but the moon was streaming in also through the uncurtained window. And across the majestic fourposter he perceived, by the gleam of his shirt in the moonlight, that Aymar was sitting on the window-seat, partially undressed. But his head was down upon his arms on the sill.

Laurent hesitated. He had not meant to intrude on this. Perhaps, however, he was asleep. Not liking to turn back, either, he went slowly on past the column of the bed, and by the time he had got round the foot L'Oiseleur had lifted his head and was looking at him with a little smile.

"Not in bed, Laurent?" he asked lightly.

"And you?" retorted Laurent. "Think of what M. Perrelet would say after such a day! It must be about two in the morning, I fancy."

"It has been an evening, certainly. Did you enjoy it?"

"What do you suppose?" inquired Laurent. "--But, Aymar, it was indescribably mean of you to tell them about that silly dungeon and my going back for M. Perrelet. You must have known that I was trying to stop you!"

Aymar made no reply. His smile, however, was sufficient commentary.

"Oh, confound you!" cried Laurent, laughing.

"Well, now you know what it feels like! And _I_ got it over quickly!"

"Really, Aymar, I had no idea you were so vindictive!"

"I am a mine of evil qualities," announced Aymar. "You ought to know that from Arbelles. How long ago that seems, now. . . . You remind me, standing there with your candle, Laurent, of further back still, of the night I spent under your roof in Devonshire, centuries ago, when you were so polite. You hoped I would sleep well--which I did."

"And I could not believe I was not dreaming, to have you there. It was then I saw the swan and the motto on your watch. And, Aymar," his voice shook a trifle and he sat down suddenly on the window-seat, "your motto is true. You are _'sans tache'_--you always have been!"

Aymar shook his head, smiling a little sadly. But he looked at him with great affection.

Now, if ever, was the chance to say something about Mme de Villecresne. "How pleased they will be at Sessignes," remarked the diplomatist, looking carefully out of the window. The observation sounded inane to him directly he had uttered it, particularly as Aymar made no reply. It was no use trying to work round tactfully to the subject, and there was always the picture of Mme de Villecresne eating her heart out there now that she was enlightened. Besides, what of Aymar's own tell-tale attitude when he came in? . . . So he next said boldly, "I suppose you will go home now?"

"No, I am not going home," replied Aymar; and he also looked out of the window.

After a moment he turned his head. His pallor was accentuated almost to ghastliness in the moonlight. "I cannot very well do so. I told my cousin when I wrote about the enquiry that whether I were cleared or no I should not come back, and that I hoped she would continue to make Sessignes her home. I should not trouble her."

Laurent was now terribly bothered. What was the right thing to do? "Oh, but don't you think----" he began, and then floundered desperately. "Aymar, I think I ought to tell you . . . yet I don't know whether I had better . . . I . . . I really wish you would advise me whether to tell you . . ." and unconscious of the absurdity he was uttering, he caught hold of Aymar's coat, which lay on the window-seat, and began to wring a button round and round.

A little smile dawned on Aymar's mouth as he looked at his occupation. "Better tell me . . . before you have them all off!"

"I . . . I talked to Mme de Villecresne after you left. I . . . I had no choice--I had to make things clear. She . . . she had not understood, Aymar--she really had not."

"Sometimes," said Aymar very slowly, and dropping out each word separately, "I have hoped that, since."

"Yes," responded Laurent eagerly. "You see, when you explained to her there was so little time--it was so sudden . . . all so horrible and you never do yourself justice. . . . So I--she asked me, you know, and I could not go away like that, before she did understand--I explained."

"So you explained," repeated his friend. "That was . . . like you, Laurent." He put his hand abruptly to his throat, got up with equal abruptness, and walked away out of the wash of moonlight.

He had told him! Now that Aymar knew that she knew the truth--now, surely. . . .

Aymar reappeared with startling suddenness, like a ghost.

"Hadn't we better go to bed?" he said in a dry voice.

Laurent jumped up and held out his hands to the ghost.

"Aymar, if you blame me----"

"Blame you? how could you think such a thing! Don't I know that you would make out a case for me a thousand times better than I could myself, and that you would do it so that it must be believed--if any truth in this world is to be believed! And that is just why . . . Never mind. Why talk of it to-night? Let us go to bed."

But Laurent had laid hold of him. "Aymar--I'm so stupid--for pity's sake tell me what you mean!"

"Why," answered Aymar, very quietly standing still in his grip, "just this: she understands _now_ . . . and it has made no difference."

Laurent loosed him, aghast. By telling him what he had done he had taken away his friend's last hope. He dropped back on to the window-seat.

Aymar sat down there, too, and leant his head against a mullion. "You see," he said evenly, "that this is a just inference, for she has had plenty of time to write to me, even if it were only to wish me good success . . . and I have not had a word. She cannot be ill, or my grandmother would have mentioned it. So it is not my ineradicable pride as you call it, Laurent. I am certain that you put things better for me than I could ever have done myself. Another debt--the deepest, it might have been, of all I owe you. But it only shows that she has washed her hands of me. I dare say she has cause."

The moonlight enshrined the two silent figures. Aymar had his chin cupped on his hand as he looked out of the window into the warm night. But before Laurent's eyes was the rose-garden at Sessignes, the little white-clad figure, the misty eyes, the trembling voice. . . . Yet nothing had come of that emotion, after all.

Aymar turned at last and put a hand on his. "My dear Laurent, one cannot have everything. Don't, don't look like that! It is not for me to show myself ungrateful for this wonderful day. I don't think that I quite realize myself yet that I am no longer an outcast, and that must be my excuse."

Laurent gripped the hand very hard. "I knew the luck would turn," he observed rather huskily. "No one could go on having such appalling bad fortune as you since you lost the _jartier_."

"I suppose," said Aymar softly, "that it has never occurred to you in your imaginative moments--no, I'm certain it has not--that all the time I had something a thousand times better than the _jartier_ . . . a piece of such transcendent good fortune that I might well spend the rest of my life thanking God for it!"

"What do you mean?" exclaimed Laurent. "No, certainly it has not. . . . Still, of course you were very lucky in having an opponent of the type of Colonel Richard, and again in coming across him as you did at----"

He stopped, because Aymar was gently shaking him.

"Is it nature or art, Laurent, that has made you so thick-headed? You don't know what I mean? Well, go and stand in front of your looking-glass, and perhaps it will dawn upon you!"

But it dawned then and there, for as he stared at him Laurent slowly began to turn crimson.