The Red Mask | Page 5

a disguise. At the time, however, I thought not of the
figure he cut, but watched uneasily the manner in which he followed
the Cardinal with his eyes, and, strange to tell, Mazarin returned his
gaze with interest.
For some moments I observed his movements closely, and, certain that
he was the man to whom André had betrayed his master's disguise, I
drew instinctively nearer to the Cardinal.
Presently I lost sight of him in the glittering throng; then, as the
musicians struck up a gay measure, the centre of the room was cleared
for the dancers, and we were crushed rudely into a corner among the
onlookers, he appeared suddenly before us once more.
His Eminence was just in front of me, and within arm's length of the

jester; André stood motionless at my side, so motionless that I thought,
for a moment, that Mazarin must be mistaken.
There was a sudden lurch in the crowd, and, simultaneously, I heard a
voice ring out loud and clear above the music, the hum of voices and
the shuffling of the dancers' feet:
"Thus perish all traitors to the welfare of France!"
At the sound of those words, which sent a chill through my blood, I
glanced quickly towards the jester and beheld the glitter of steel in his
uplifted hand. Then, before any one could seize the murderer's arm, it
had descended with terrific force, and the knife was buried in the
Cardinal's breast.
Heedless of the soft low laugh which escaped the Judas beside me, I
stood horror-stricken, yet confident in my mind that the shirt of mail
worn by Mazarin would have resisted the poignard.
As I saw him, however, fall backwards, without so much as a groan,
into the arms of a bystander; as I saw the red blood spurt forth and
spread in a great shiny stain upon the black domino, a wild inarticulate
cry escaped my lips.
"Notre Dame!" I shrieked the next moment, "You have killed him!"
And I would have sprung forward to seize the murderer, when suddenly
a strong nervous hand was laid upon my shoulder, and a well-known
voice, at the sound of which I stood as if bound by a spell, whispered in
my ear:
"Silence, fool! Be still."
The music had ceased suddenly, the dancing had stopped and a funereal
hush had fallen upon the throng as it pressed eagerly around the
murdered man.
Contrary to my expectations, the assassin made no attempt to escape,
but removing his vizor, he showed us the features of that notorious

court bully, the Compte de St. Augére--a creature of the Prince de
Condé. He folded his arms leisurely across his breast and stood
regarding the silent crowd about him with a diabolical smile of scorn
upon his thin lips.
Then, as a light gradually broke upon my mind, the masked figure
beside me which I had hitherto regarded as André, moved swiftly
forward and pulling back the hood from the head of the victim,
removed the red mask.
I craned my neck and beheld, as I had expected, the pallid face of the
valet set already in the unmistakable mould of the rigor mortis.
Presently a murmur went round the assembly breathing the words "The
Cardinal!"
I looked up and saw Mazarin, erect, unmasked, and silent. From him I
turned my eyes towards St. Augére; he had not yet met the Cardinal's
gaze, and to him the whisper of the crowd had a different meaning; so
he smiled on in his quiet scornful way until Mazarin awakened him to
realities.
"Is this your handiwork, Monsieur de St. Augére?"
At the sound of that voice, so cold and terrible in its menace, the fellow
started violently; he turned to the Cardinal, a look of pitiable terror
coming into his eyes. As their glances met, the one so stern and steady,
the other furtive and craven, St. Augére seemed as one suddenly
smitten with ague; he darted a hurried glance at the victim, and as he
beheld André, his face became as ashen as that of the corpse.
"You do not answer," Mazarin pursued; "there is no need, I saw the
blow, and you still hold the dagger. You are I doubt not"--oh, the irony
of his words! "you are, I doubt not, surprised to see me here. But I
heard of this and it was my intention to foil your purpose and to punish
you, false noble that you are. Methinks, Monsieur, that you have
wrought sufficient evil in your life without culminating it by so
dastardly a deed as this. That you should have stooped to stab a poor

defenceless valet, whom you considered below the dignity of your
sword, this--fallen as you are--I had scarcely expected from one whose
veins are fed by the