Under the Red Robe | Page 3

hurt the man
after that.'
'On guard, sir!' I answered coldly--for he seemed to waver, and be in
doubt. 'It was an accident. It shall not avail you again.'
Several voices cried 'Shame!' and one, 'You coward!' But the
Englishman stepped forward, a fixed look in his blue eyes. He took his
place without a word. I read in his drawn white face that he had made
up his mind to the worst, and his courage so won my admiration that I
would gladly and thankfully have set one of the lookers-on--any of the
lookers-on--in his place; but that could not be. So I thought of Zaton's
closed to me, of Pombal's insult, of the sneers and slights I had long
kept at the sword's point; and, pressing him suddenly in a heat of
affected anger, I thrust strongly over his guard, which had grown feeble,

and ran him through the chest.
When I saw him lying, laid out on the stones with his eyes half shut,
and his face glimmering white in the dusk--not that I saw him thus long,
for there were a dozen kneeling round him in a twinkling--I felt an
unwonted pang. It passed, however, in a moment. For I found myself
confronted by a ring of angry faces --of men who, keeping at a distance,
hissed and cursed and threatened me, calling me Black Death and the
like.
They were mostly canaille, who had gathered during the fight, and had
viewed all that passed from the farther side of the railings. While some
snarled and raged at me like wolves, calling me 'Butcher!' and
'Cut-throat!' or cried out that Berault was at his trade again, others
threatened me with the vengeance of the Cardinal, flung the edict in my
teeth, and said with glee that the guard were coming--they would see
me hanged yet.
'His blood is on your head!' one cried furiously. 'He will be dead in an
hour. And you will swing for him! Hurrah!'
'Begone,' I said.
'Ay, to Montfaucon,' he answered, mocking me.
'No; to your kennel!' I replied, with a look which sent him a yard
backwards, though the railings were between us. And I wiped my blade
carefully, standing a little apart. For--well, I could understand it--it was
one of those moments when a man is not popular. Those who had come
with me from the eating-house eyed me askance, and turned their backs
when I drew nearer; and those who had joined us and obtained
admission were scarcely more polite.
But I was not to be outdone in SANG FROID. I cocked my hat, and
drawing my cloak over my shoulders, went out with a swagger which
drove the curs from the gate before I came within a dozen paces of it.
The rascals outside fell back as quickly, and in a moment I was in the
street. Another moment and I should have been clear of the place and

free to lie by for a while--when, without warning, a scurry took place
round me. The crowd fled every way into the gloom, and in a hand-turn
a dozen of the Cardinal's guards closed round me.
I had some acquaintance with the officer in command, and he saluted
me civilly.
'This is a bad business, M. de Berault,' he said. 'The man is dead they
tell me.'
'Neither dying nor dead,' I answered lightly. 'If that be all you may go
home again.'
'With you,' he replied, with a grin, 'certainly. And as it rains, the sooner
the better. I must ask you for your sword, I am afraid.'
'Take it,' I said, with the philosophy which never deserts me. 'But the
man will not die.'
'I hope that may avail you,' he answered in a tone I did not like. 'Left
wheel, my friends! To the Chatelet! March!'
'There are worse places,' I said, and resigned myself to fate. After all, I
had been in a prison before, and learned that only one jail lets no
prisoner escape.
But when I found that my friend's orders were to hand me over to the
watch, and that I was to be confined like any common jail- bird caught
cutting a purse or slitting a throat, I confess my heart sank. If I could
get speech with the Cardinal, all would probably be well; but if I failed
in this, or if the case came before him in strange guise, or if he were in
a hard mood himself, then it might go ill with me. The edict said,
death!
And the lieutenant at the Chatelet did not put himself to much trouble
to hearten me. 'What! again M. de Berault?' he said, raising his
eyebrows as he received me at the gate, and recognised me by the light
of the