THE MAN IN THE RED CLOAK

The despair of Athos had given place to a concentrated grief which only

rendered more lucid the brilliant mental faculties of that extraordinary

man.

Possessed by one single thought--that of the promise he had made, and of

the responsibility he had taken--he retired last to his chamber, begged

the host to procure him a map of the province, bent over it, examined

every line traced upon it, perceived that there were four different

roads from Bethune to Armentieres, and summoned the lackeys.

Planchet, Grimaud, Bazin, and Mousqueton presented themselves, and

received clear, positive, and serious orders from Athos.

They must set out the next morning at daybreak, and go to Armentieres--

each by a different route. Planchet, the most intelligent of the four,

was to follow that by which the carriage had gone upon which the four

friends had fired, and which was accompanied, as may be remembered, by

Rochefort`s servant.

Athos set the lackeys to work first because, since these men had been in

the service of himself and his friends he had discovered in each of them

different and essential qualities. Then, lackeys who ask questions

inspire less mistrust than masters, and meet with more sympathy among

those to whom they address themselves. Besides, Milady knew the

masters, and did not know the lackeys; on the contrary, the lackeys knew

Milady perfectly.

All four were to meet the next day at eleven o`clock. If they had

discovered Milady`s retreat, three were to remain on guard; the fourth

was to return to Bethune in order to inform Athos and serve as a guide

to the four friends. These arrangements made, the lackeys retired.

Athos then arose from his chair, girded on his sword, enveloped himself

in his cloak, and left the hotel. It was nearly ten o`clock. At ten

o`clock in the evening, it is well known, the streets in provincial

towns are very little frequented. Athos nevertheless was visibly

anxious to find someone of whom he could ask a question. At length he

met a belated passenger, went up to him, and spoke a few words to him.

The man he addressed recoiled with terror, and only answered the few

words of the Musketeer by pointing. Athos offered the man half a

pistole to accompany him, but the man refused.

Athos then plunged into the street the man had indicated with his

finger; but arriving at four crossroads, he stopped again, visibly

embarrassed. Nevertheless, as the crossroads offered him a better

chance than any other place of meeting somebody, he stood still. In a

few minutes a night watch passed. Athos repeated to him the same

question he had asked the first person he met. The night watch evinced

the same terror, refused, in his turn, to accompany Athos, and only

pointed with his hand to the road he was to take.

Athos walked in the direction indicated, and reached the suburb situated

at the opposite extremity of the city from that by which he and his

friends had entered it. There he again appeared uneasy and embarrassed,

and stopped for the third time.

Fortunately, a mendicant passed, who, coming up to Athos to ask charity,

Athos offered him half a crown to accompany him where he was going. The

mendicant hesitated at first, but at the sight of the piece of silver

which shone in the darkness he consented, and walked on before Athos.

Arrived at the angle of a street, he pointed to a small house, isolated,

solitary, and dismal. Athos went toward the house, while the mendicant,

who had received his reward, left as fast as his legs could carry him.

Athos went round the house before he could distinguish the door, amid

the red color in which the house was painted. No light appeared through

the chinks of the shutters; no noise gave reason to believe that it was

inhabited. It was dark and silent as the tomb.

Three times Athos knocked without receiving an answer. At the third

knock, however, steps were heard inside. The door at length was opened,

and a man appeared, of high stature, pale complexion, and black hair and

beard.

Athos and he exchanged some words in a low voice, then the tall man made

a sign to the Musketeer that he might come in. Athos immediately

profited by the permission, and the door was closed behind him.

The man whom Athos had come so far to seek, and whom he had found with

so much trouble, introduced him into his laboratory, where he was

engaged in fastening together with iron wire the dry bones of a

skeleton. All the frame was adjusted except the head, which lay on the

table.

All the rest of the furniture indicated that the dweller in this house

occupied himself with the study of natural science. There were large

bottles filled with serpents, ticketed according to their species; dried

lizards shone like emeralds set in great squares of black wood, and

bunches of wild odoriferous herbs, doubtless possessed of virtues

unknown to common men, were fastened to the ceiling and hung down in the

corners of the apartment. There was no family, no servant; the tall man

alone inhabited this house.

Athos cast a cold and indifferent glance upon the objects we have

described, and at the invitation of him whom he came to seek sat down

near him.

Then he explained to him the cause of his visit, and the service he

required of him. But scarcely had he expressed his request when the

unknown, who remained standing before the Musketeer, drew back with

signs of terror, and refused. Then Athos took from his pocket a small

paper, on which two lines were written, accompanied by a signature and

a seal, and presented them to him who had made too prematurely these

signs of repugnance. The tall man had scarcely read these lines, seen

the signature, and recognized the seal, when he bowed to denote that he

had no longer any objection to make, and that he was ready to obey.

Athos required no more. He arose, bowed, went out, returned by the same

way he came, re-entered the hotel, and went to his apartment.

At daybreak D`Artagnan entered the chamber, and demanded what was to be

done.

"To wait," replied Athos.

Some minutes after, the superior of the convent sent to inform the

Musketeers that the burial would take place at midday. As to the

poisoner, they had heard no tidings of her whatever, only that she must

have made her escape through the garden, on the sand of which her

footsteps could be traced, and the door of which had been found shut.

As to the key, it had disappeared.

At the hour appointed, Lord de Winter and the four friends repaired to

the convent; the bells tolled, the chapel was open, the grating of the

choir was closed. In the middle of the choir the body of the victim,

clothed in her novitiate dress, was exposed. On each side of the choir

and behind the gratings opening into the convent was assembled the whole

community of the Carmelites, who listened to the divine service, and

mingled their chant with the chant of the priests, without seeing the

profane, or being seen by them.

At the door of the chapel D`Artagnan felt his courage fall anew, and returned to look for Athos; but Athos had disappeared.

Faithful to his mission of vengeance, Athos had requested to be

conducted to the garden; and there upon the sand following the light

steps of this woman, who left sharp tracks wherever she went, he

advanced toward the gate which led into the wood, and causing it to be

opened, he went out into the forest.

Then all his suspicions were confirmed; the road by which the carriage

had disappeared encircled the forest. Athos followed the road for some

time, his eyes fixed upon the ground; slight stains of blood, which came

from the wound inflicted upon the man who accompanied the carriage as a

courier, or from one of the horses, dotted the road. At the end of

three-quarters of a league, within fifty paces of Festubert, a larger

bloodstain appeared; the ground was trampled by horses. Between the

forest and this accursed spot, a little behind the trampled ground, was

the same track of small feet as in the garden; the carriage had stopped

here. At this spot Milady had come out of the wood, and entered the

carriage.

Satisfied with this discovery which confirmed all his suspicions, Athos

returned to the hotel, and found Planchet impatiently waiting for him.

Everything was as Athos had foreseen.

Planchet had followed the road; like Athos, he had discovered the stains

of blood; like Athos, he had noted the spot where the horses had halted.

But he had gone farther than Athos--for at the village of Festubert,

while drinking at an inn, he had learned without needing to ask a

question that the evening before, at half-past eight, a wounded man who

accompanied a lady traveling in a post-chaise had been obliged to stop,

unable to go further. The accident was set down to the account of

robbers, who had stopped the chaise in the wood. The man remained in

the village; the woman had had a relay of horses, and continued her

journey.

Planchet went in search of the postillion who had driven her, and found

him. He had taken the lady as far as Fromelles; and from Fromelles

she had set out for Armentieres. Planchet took the crossroad, and by

seven o`clock in the morning he was at Armentieres.

There was but one tavern, the Post. Planchet went and presented himself

as a lackey out of a place, who was in search of a situation. He had

not chatted ten minutes with the people of the tavern before he learned

that a woman had come there alone about eleven o`clock the night before,

had engaged a chamber, had sent for the master of the hotel, and told

him she desired to remain some time in the neighborhood.

Planchet had no need to learn more. He hastened to the rendezvous,

found the lackeys at their posts, placed them as sentinels at all the

outlets of the hotel, and came to find Athos, who ha just received this

information when his friends returned.

All their countenances were melancholy and gloomy, even the mild

countenance of Aramis.

"What is to be done?" asked D`Artagnan.

"To wait!" replied Athos.

Each retired to his own apartment.

At eight o`clock in the evening Athos ordered the horses to be saddled,

and Lord de Winter and his friends notified that they must prepare for

the expedition.

In an instant all five were ready. Each examined his arms, and put them

in order. Athos came down last, and found D`Artagnan already on

horseback, and growing impatient.

"Patience!" cried Athos; "one of our party is still wanting."

The four horsemen looked round them with astonishment, for they sought

vainly in their minds to know who this other person could be.

At this moment Planchet brought out Athos`s house; the Musketeer leaped

lightly into the saddle.

"Wait for me," cried he, "I will soon be back," and he set off at a

gallop.

In a quarter of an hour he returned, accompanied by a tall man, masked,

and wrapped in a large red cloak.

Lord de Winter and the three Musketeers looked at one another

inquiringly. Neither could give the others any information, for all

were ignorant who this man could be; nevertheless, they felt convinced

that all was as it should be, as it was done by the order of Athos.

At nine o`clock, guided by Planchet, the little cavalcade set out,

taking the route the carriage had taken.

It was a melancholy sight--that of these six men, traveling in silence,

each plunged in his own thoughts, sad as despair, gloomy as

chastisement.

65 TRIAL

It was a stormy and dark night; vast clouds covered the heavens,

concealing the stars; the moon would not rise till midnight.

Occasionally, by the light of a flash of lightening which gleamed along

the horizon, the road stretched itself before them, white and solitary;

the flash extinct, all remained in darkness.

Every minute Athos was forced to restrain D`Artagnan, constantly in

advance of the little troop, and to beg him to keep in the line, which

in an instant he again departed from. He had but one thought--to go

forward; and he went.

They passed in silence through the little village of Festubert, where

the wounded servant was, and then skirted the wood of Richebourg. At

Herlier, Planchet, who led the column, turned to the left.

Several times Lord de Winter, Porthos, or Aramis, tried to talk with the

man in the red cloak; but to every interrogation which they put to him

he bowed, without response. The travelers then comprehended that there

must be some reason why the unknown preserved such a silence, and ceased

to address themselves to him.

The storm increase, the flashes succeeded one another more rapidly, the

thunder began to growl, and the wind, the precursor of a hurricane,

whistled in the plumes and the hair of the horsemen.

The cavalcade trotted on more sharply.

A little before they came to Fromelles the storm burst. They spread

their cloaks. There remained three leagues to travel, and they did it

amid torrents of rain.

D`Artagnan took off his hat, and could not be persuaded to make use of

his cloak. He found pleasure in feeling the water trickle over his

burning brow and over his body, agitated by feverish shudders.

The moment the little troop passed Goskal and were approaching the Port,

a man sheltered beneath a tree detached himself from the trunk with

which he had been confounded in the darkness, and advanced into the

middle of the road, putting his finger on his lips.

Athos recognized Grimaud.

"What`s the manner?" cried Athos. "Has she left Armentieres?"

Grimaud made a sign in the affirmative. D`Artagnan groaned his teeth.

"Silence, D`Artagnan!" said Athos. I have charged myself with this

affair. It is for me, then, to interrogate Grimaud."

"Where is she?" asked Athos.

Grimaud extended his hands in the direction of the Lys. "Far from

here?" asked Athos.

Grimaud showed his master his forefinger bent.

"Alone?" asked Athos.

Grimaud made the sign yes.

"Gentlemen," said Athos, "she is alone within half a league of us, in

the direction of the river."

"That`s well," said D`Artagnan. "lead us, Grimaud."

Grimaud took his course across the country, and acted as guide to the

cavalcade.

At the end of five hundred paces, more or less, they came to a rivulet,

which they forded.

By the aid of the lightening they perceived the village of Erquinheim.

"Is she there, Grimaud?" asked Athos.

Grimaud shook his head negatively.

"Silence, then!" cried Athos.

And the troop continued their route.

Another flash illuminated all around them. Grimaud extended his arm,

and by the bluish splendor of the fiery serpent they distinguished a

little isolated house on the banks of the river, within a hundred paces

of a ferry.

One window was lighted.

"Here we are!" said Athos.

At this moment a man who had been crouching in a ditch jumped up and

came towards them. It was Mousqueton. He pointed his finger to the

lighted window.

"She is there," said he.

"And Bazin?" asked Athos.

"While I watched the window, he guarded the door."

"Good!" said Athos. "You are good and faithful servants."

Athos sprang from his horse, gave the bridle to Grimaud, and advanced

toward the window, after having made a sign to the rest of the troop to

go toward the door.

The little house was surrounded by a low, quickset hedge, two or three

feet high. Athos sprang over the hedge and went up to the window, which

was without shutters, but had the half-curtains closely drawn.

He mounted the skirting stone that his eyes might look over the curtain.

By the light of a lamp he saw a woman, wrapped in a dark mantle, seated

upon a stool near a dying fire. Her elbows were placed upon a mean

table, and she leaned her head upon her two hands, which were white as

ivory.

He could not distinguish her countenance, but a sinister smile passed

over the lips of Athos. He was not deceived; it was she whom he sought.

At this moment a horse neighed. Milady raised her head, saw close to

the panes the pale face of Athos, and screamed.

Athos, perceiving that she knew him, pushed the window with his knee and

hand. The window yielded. The squares were broken to shivers; and

Athos, like the spectre of vengeance, leaped into the room.

Milady rushed to the door and opened it. More pale and menacing than

Athos, D`Artagnan stood on the threshold.

Milady recoiled, uttering a cry. D`Artagnan, believing she might have

means of flight and fearing she should escape, drew a pistol from his

belt; but Athos raised his hand.

"Put back that weapon, D`Artagnan!" said he; "this woman must be tried,

not assassinated. Wait an instant, my friend, and you shall be

satisfied. Come in, gentlemen."

D`Artagnan obeyed; for Athos had the solemn voice and the powerful

gesture of a judge sent by the Lord himself. Behind D`Artagnan entered

Porthos, Aramis, Lord de Winter, and the man in the red cloak.

The four lackeys guarded the door and the window.

Milady had sunk into a chair, with her hands extended, as if to conjure

this terrible apparition. Perceiving her brother-in-law, she uttered a

terrible cry.

"What do you want?" screamed Milady.

"We want," said Athos, "Charlotte Backson, who first was called Comtesse

de la Fere, and afterwards Milady de Winter, Baroness of Sheffield."

"That is I! that is I!" murmured Milady, in extreme terror; "what do

you want?"

"We wish to judge you according to your crime," said Athos; "you shall

be free to defend yourself. Justify yourself if you can. M.

d`Artagnan, it is for you to accuse her first."

D`Artagnan advanced.

"Before God and before men," said he, "I accuse this woman of having

poisoned Constance Bonacieux, who died yesterday evening."

He turned towards Porthos and Aramis.

"We bear witness to this," said the two Musketeers, with one voice.

D`Artagnan continued: "Before God and before men, I accuse this woman

of having attempted to poison me, in wine which she sent me from

Villeroy, with a forged letter, as if that wine came from my friends.

God preserved me, but a man named Brisemont died in my place."

"We bear witness to this," said Porthos and Aramis, in the same manner as before.

"Before God and before men, I accuse this woman of having urged me to

the murder of the Baron de Wardes; but as no one else can attest the

truth of this accusation, I attest it myself. I have done." And

D`Artagnan passed to the other side of the room with Porthos and Aramis.

"Your turn, my Lord," said Athos.

The baron came forward.

"Before God and before men," said he, "I accuse this woman of having

caused the assassination of the Duke of Buckingham."

"The Duke of Buckingham assassinated!" cried all present, with one

voice.

"Yes," said the baron, "assassinated. On receiving the warning letter

you wrote to me, I had this woman arrested, and gave her in charge to a

loyal servant. She corrupted this man; she placed the poniard in his

hand; she made him kill the duke. And at this moment, perhaps, Felton

is paying with his head for the crime of this fury!"

A shudder crept through the judges at the revelation of these unknown

crimes.

"That is not all," resumed Lord de Winter. "My brother, who made you

his heir, died in three hours of a strange disorder which left livid

traces all over the body. My sister, how did your husband die?"

"Horror!" cried Porthos and Aramis.

"Assassin of Buckingham, assassin of Felton, assassin of my brother, I

demand justice upon you, and I swear that if it be not granted to me, I

will execute it myself."

And Lord de Winter ranged himself by the side of D`Artagnan, leaving the

place free for another accuser.

Milady let her head sink between her two hands, and tried to recall her

ideas, whirling in a mortal vertigo.

"My turn," said Athos, himself trembling as the lion trembles at the

sight of the serpent--"my turn. I married that woman when she was a

young girl; I married her in opposition to the wishes of all my family;

I gave her my wealth, I gave her my name; and one day I discovered that

this woman was branded--this woman was marked with a FLEUR-DE-LIS on her

left shoulder."

"Oh," said Milady, raising herself, "I defy you to find any tribunal

which pronounced that infamous sentence against me. I defy you to find

him who executed it."

"Silence!" said a hollow voice. "It is for me to reply to that!" And

the man in the red cloak came forward in his turn.

"What man is that? What man is that?" cried Milady, suffocated by

terror, her hair loosening itself, and rising above her livid

countenance as if alive.

All eyes were turned towards this man--for to all except Athos he was

unknown.

Even Athos looked at him with as much stupefaction as the others, for he

knew not how he could in any way find himself mixed up with the horrible

drama then unfolded.

After approaching Milady with a slow and solemn step, so that the table

alone separated them, the unknown took off his mask.

Milady for some time examined with increasing terror that pale face,

framed with black hair and whiskers, the only expression of which was

icy impassibility. Then she suddenly cried, "Oh, no, no!" rising and

retreating to the very wall. "No, no! it is an infernal apparition!

It is not he! Help, help!" screamed she, turning towards the wall, as

if she would tear an opening with her hands.

"Who are you, then?" cried all the witnesses of this scene.

"Ask that woman," said the man in the red cloak, "for you may plainly

see she knows me!"

"The executioner of Lille, the executioner of Lille!" cried Milady, a

prey to insensate terror, and clinging with her hands to the wall to

avoid falling.

Every one drew back, and the man in the red cloak remained standing

alone in the middle of the room.

"Oh, grace, grace, pardon!" cried the wretch, falling on her knees.

The unknown waited for silence, and then resumed, "I told you well that

she would know me. Yes, I am the executioner of Lille, and this is my

history."

All eyes were fixed upon this man, whose words were listened to with

anxious attention.

"That woman was once a young girl, as beautiful as she is today. She

was a nun in the convent of the Benedictines of Templemar. A young

priest, with a simple and trustful heart, performed the duties of the

church of that convent. She undertook his seduction, and succeeded; she

would have seduced a saint.

"Their vows were sacred and irrevocable. Their connection could not

last long without ruining both. She prevailed upon him to leave the

country; but to leave the country, to fly together, to reach another

part of France, where they might live at ease because unknown, money was

necessary. Neither had any. The priest stole the sacred vases, and

sold them; but as they were preparing to escape together, they were both

arrested.

"Eight days later she had seduced the son of the jailer, and escaped.

The young priest was condemned to ten years of imprisonment, and to be

branded. I was executioner of the city of Lille, as this woman has

said. I was obliged to brand the guilty one; and he, gentlemen, was my

brother!

"I then swore that this woman who had ruined him, who was more than his

accomplice, since she had urged him to the crime, should at least share

his punishment. I suspected where she was concealed. I followed her, I

caught her, I bound her; and I imprinted the same disgraceful mark upon

her that I had imprinted upon my poor brother.

"The day after my return to Lille, my brother in his turn succeeded in

making his escape; I was accused of complicity, and was condemned to

remain in his place till he should be again a prisoner. My poor brother

was ignorant of this sentence. He rejoined this woman; they fled

together into Berry, and there he obtained a little curacy. This woman

passed for his sister.

"The Lord of the estate on which the chapel of the curacy was situated

saw this pretend sister, and became enamoured of her--amorous to such a

degree that he proposed to marry her. Then she quitted him she had

ruined for him she was destined to ruin, and became the Comtesse de la

Fere--"

All eyes were turned towards Athos, whose real name that was, and who

made a sign with his head that all was true which the executioner had

said.

"Then," resumed he, "mad, desperate, determined to get rid of an

existence from which she had stolen everything, honor and happiness, my

poor brother returned to Lille, and learning the sentence which had

condemned me in his place, surrendered himself, and hanged himself that

same night from the iron bar of the loophole of his prison.

"To do justice to them who had condemned me, they kept their word. As

soon as the identity of my brother was proved, I was set at liberty.

"That is the crime of which I accuse her; that is the cause for which

she was branded."

"Monsieur d`Artagnan," said Athos, "what is the penalty you demand

against this woman?"

"The punishment of death," replied D`Artagnan.

"My Lord de Winter," continued Athos, "what is the penalty you demand

against this woman?"

"The punishment of death," replied Lord de Winter.

"Messieurs Porthos and Aramis," repeated Athos, "you who are her judges,

what is the sentence you pronounce upon this woman?"

"The punishment of death," replied the Musketeers, in a hollow voice.

Milady uttered a frightful shriek, and dragged herself along several

paces upon her knees toward her judges.

Athos stretched out his hand toward her.

"Charlotte Backson, Comtesse de la Fere, Milady de Winter," said he,

"your crimes have wearied men on earth and God in heaven. If you know a

prayer, say it--for you are condemned, and you shall die."

At these words, which left no hope, Milady raised herself in all her

pride, and wished to speak; but her strength failed her. She felt that

a powerful and implacable hand seized her by the hair, and dragged her

away as irrevocably as fatality drags humanity. She did not, therefore,

even attempt the least resistance, and went out of the cottage.

Lord de Winter, D`Artagnan, Athos, Porthos, and Aramis, went out close

behind her. The lackeys followed their masters, and the chamber was

left solitary, with its broken window, its open door, and its smoky lamp

burning sadly on the table.

Date: 2015-01-29; view: 928