The Bronze Eagle (24 page)

[Pg 187]
"M. le Comte, I regret," he said coldly, "in the name of the Emperor I
must demand from you the restitution of his property."

The Comte shrugged his shoulders and vouchsafed no reply.

"M. le Comte," said de Marmont, more peremptorily this time, "I have
twenty-four men with me, who will seize by force if necessary that which
I herewith command you to give up voluntarily."

Still no reply. M. le Comte de Cambray would think himself bemeaned were
he to parley with a traitor.

"As you will, M. le Comte," was de Marmont's calm comment on the old
man's attitude. "Sergeant!" he commanded, "seize the four persons in
this coach. Three of them are women, so be as gentle as you can. Go
round to the other door first."

"Father," now urged Crystal gently, "do you think that this is wise—or
dignified?"

"Wisely spoken, Mlle. Crystal," rejoined de Marmont. "Have I not said
that I have two dozen soldiers with me—all trained to do their duty?
Why should M. le Comte allow them to lay hands upon you and on Mme. la
Duchesse?"

"It is an outrage," broke in the Comte savagely. "You and your soldiers
are traitors, rebels and deserters."

"But we are in superior numbers, M. le Comte," said de Marmont with a
sneer. "Would it not be wiser to yield with a good grace? Mme. la
Duchesse," he added with an attempt at geniality, "yours was always the
wise head, I am told, that guided the affairs of M. le Comte de Cambray
in the past. Will you not advise him now?"

"I would, my good man," retorted the Duchesse, "but my wise counsels
would benefit no one now, seeing that you have been sent on a fool's
errand."

De Marmont laughed.

[Pg 188]
"Does Mme. la Duchesse mean to deny that twenty-five million francs
belonging to the Emperor are hidden at this moment inside this coach?"

"I deny, Monsieur de Marmont, that any twenty-five million francs belong
to the son of an impecunious Corsican attorney—and I also deny that any
twenty-five million francs are in this coach at the present moment."

"That is exactly what I desire to ascertain, Madame."

"Ascertain by all means then," quoth Madame impatiently, "the other
thief ascertained the same thing an hour ago, and I must confess that he
did so more profitably than you are like to do."

"The other thief?" exclaimed de Marmont, greatly puzzled.

"It is as Mme. la Duchesse has deigned to tell you," here interposed the
Comte coolly. "I have no objection to your knowing that I had intended
to convey to His Majesty the King—its rightful owner—a sum of
money—originally stolen by the Corsican usurper from France—but that
an hour ago a party of armed thieves—just like yourself—attacked us,
bound and gagged me and my men, ransacked my coach and made off with the
booty."

"And I thank God now," murmured Crystal involuntarily, "that the money
has fallen into the hands of a common highwayman rather than in those of
the scourge of mankind."

"M. le Comte . . ." stammered de Marmont, who, still incredulous, yet
vaguely alarmed, was nevertheless determined not to accept this
extraordinary narrative with blind confidence.

But M. le Comte de Cambray's dignity rose at last to the occasion: "You
choose to disbelieve me, Monsieur?" he asked quietly.

De Marmont made no reply.

"Will my word of honour not suffice?"

[Pg 189]
"My orders, M. le Comte," said de Marmont gruffly, "are that I bring
back to my Emperor the money that is his. I will not leave one stone
unturned . . ."

"Enough, Monsieur," broke in the Comte with calm dignity. "We will
alight now, if your soldiers will stand aside."

And for the second time on this eventful night, Mme. la Duchesse d'Agen
and Mlle. Crystal de Cambray, together with faithful Jeanne, were forced
to alight from the coach and to stand by while the cushions of the
carriage were being turned over by the light of a flickering lanthorn
and every corner of the interior ransacked for the elusive treasure.

"There is nothing here, mon Colonel," said a gruff voice out of the
darkness, after a while.

A loud curse broke from de Marmont's lips.

"You are satisfied?" asked the Comte coldly, "that I have told you the
truth?"

"Search the luggage in the boot," cried de Marmont savagely, without
heeding him, "search the men on the box! bring more light here! That
money is somewhere in this coach, I'll swear. If I do not find it I'll
take every one here back a prisoner to Grenoble . . . or . . ."

He paused, himself ashamed of what he had been about to say.

"Or you will order your soldiers to lay hands upon our persons, is that
it, M. de Marmont?" broke in Crystal coldly.

He made no reply, for of a truth that had been his thought: foiled in
his hope of rendering his beloved Emperor so signal a service, he had
lost all sense of chivalry in this overwhelming feeling of baffled rage.

Crystal's cold challenge recalled him to himself, and now he felt
ashamed of what he had just contemplated, ashamed, too, of what he had
done. He hated the Comte . . . he hated all royalists and all enemies of
the Emperor
[Pg 190]
. . . but he hated the Comte doubly because of the insults
which he (de Marmont) had had to endure that evening at Brestalou. He
had looked upon this expedition as a means of vengeance for those
insults, a means, too, of showing his power and his worth before Crystal
and of winning her through that power which the Emperor had given him,
and through that worth which the Emperor had recognised.

But, though he hated the Comte he knew him to be absolutely incapable of
telling a deliberate lie, and absolutely incapable of bartering his word
of honour for the sake of his own safety.

Crystal's words brought this knowledge back to his mind; and now the
desire seized him to prove himself as chivalrous as he was powerful. He
was one of those men who are so absolutely ignorant of a woman's nature
that they believe that a woman's love can be won by deeds as apart from
personality, and that a woman's dislike and contempt can be changed into
love. He loved Crystal more absolutely now than he had ever done in the
days when he was practically her accepted suitor: his unbridled and
capricious nature clung desperately to that which he could not hold, and
since he had felt—that evening at Brestalou—that his political
convictions had placed an insuperable barrier between himself and
Crystal de Cambray, he felt that no woman on earth could ever be quite
so desirable.

His mistake lay in this: that he believed that it was his political
convictions alone which had turned Crystal away from him: he felt that
he could have won her love through her submission once she was his wife,
now he found that he would have to win her love first and her wifely
submission would only follow afterwards.

Just now—though in the gloom he could only see the vague outline of her
graceful form, and only heard her voice as through a veil of
darkness—he had the longing to
[Pg 191]
prove himself at once worthy of her
regard and deserving of her gratitude.

Without replying to her direct challenge, he made a vigorous effort to
curb his rage, and to master his disappointment. Then he gave a few
brief commands to his sergeant, ordering him to repair the disorder
inside the coach, and to stop all further searching both of the vehicle
and of the men.

Finally he said with calm dignity: "M. le Comte, I must offer you my
humble apologies for the inconvenience to which you have been subjected.
I humbly beg Mme. la Duchesse and Mademoiselle Crystal to accept these
expressions of my profound regret. A soldier's life and a soldier's duty
must be my excuse for the part I was forced to take in this untoward
happening. Mme. la Duchesse, I pray you deign to re-enter your carriage.
M. le Comte, if there is aught I can do for you, I pray you command me.
. . ."

Neither the Duchesse nor the Comte, however, deigned to take the
slightest notice of the abominable traitor and of his long tirade.
Madame was shivering with cold and yawning with fatigue, and in her
heart consigned the young brute to everlasting torments.

The Comte would have thought it beneath his dignity to accept any
explanation from a follower of the Corsican usurper. Without a word he
was now helping his sister into the carriage.

Jeanne, of course, hardly counted—she was dazed into semi-imbecility by
the renewed terrors she had just gone through: so for the moment Victor
felt that Crystal was isolated from the others. She stood a little to
one side—he could only just see her, as the sergeant was holding up the
lanthorn for Mme. la Duchesse to see her way into the coach. M. le Comte
went on to give a few directions to the coachman.

"Mademoiselle Crystal!" murmured Victor softly.

[Pg 192]
And he made a step forward so that now she could not move toward the
carriage without brushing against him. But she made no reply.

"Mademoiselle Crystal," he said again, "have you not one single kind
word for me?"

"A kind word?" she retorted almost involuntarily, "after such an
outrage?"

"I am a soldier," he urged, "and had to do my duty."

"You were a soldier once, M. de Marmont—a soldier of the King. Now you
are only a deserter."

"A soldier of the Emperor, Mademoiselle, of the man who led France to
victory and to glory, and will do so again, now that he has come back
into his own once more."

"You and I, M. de Marmont," she said coldly, "look at France from
different points of view. This is neither the hour nor the place to
discuss our respective sentiments. I pray you, allow me to join my aunt
in the carriage. I am cold and tired, and she will be anxious for me."

"Will you at least give me one word of encouragement, Mademoiselle?" he
urged. "As you say, our points of view are very different. But I am on
the high road to fortune. The Emperor is back in France, the army flocks
to his eagles as one man. He trusts me and I shall rise to greatness
under his wing. Mademoiselle Crystal, you promised me your hand, I have
not released you from that promise yet. I will come and claim it soon."

"Excitement seems to have turned your brain, M. de Marmont," was all
that Crystal said, and she walked straight past him to the carriage
door.

Victor smothered a curse. These aristos were as arrogant as ever. What
lesson had the revolution and the guillotine taught them? None. This
girl who had spent her whole life in poverty and exile, and was
like—after a brief interregnum—to return to exile and poverty again,
was not a whit less proud than her kindred had been when they
[Pg 193]
walked in
their hundreds up the steps of the guillotine with a smile of lofty
disdain upon their lips.

Victor de Marmont was a son of the people—of those who had made the
revolution and had fought the whole of Europe in order to establish
their right to govern themselves as they thought best, and he hated all
these aristos—the men who had fled from their country and abandoned it
when she needed her sons' help more than she had ever done before.

The aristocrat was for him synonymous with the émigré—with the man who
had raised a foreign army to fight against France, who had brought the
foreigner marching triumphantly into Paris. He hated the aristocrat, but
he loved Crystal, the one desirable product of that old regime system
which he abhorred.

But with him a woman's love meant a woman's submission. He was more
determined than ever now to win her, but he wanted to win her through
her humiliation and his triumph—excitement had turned his brain? Well!
so be it, fear and oppression would turn her heart and crush her pride.

He made no further attempt to detain her: he had asked for a kind word
and she had given him withering scorn. Excitement had turned his brain
. . . he was not even worthy of parley—not even worthy of a formal
refusal!

To his credit be it said that the thought of immediate revenge did not
enter his mind then. He might have subjected her then and there to
deadly outrage—he might have had her personal effects searched, her
person touched by the rough hands of his soldiers. But though his
estimate of a woman's love was a low one, it was not so base as to
imagine that Crystal de Cambray would ever forgive so dastardly an
insult.

As she walked past him to the door, however, he said under his breath:

[Pg 194]
"Remember, Mademoiselle, that you and your family at this moment are
absolutely in my power, and that it is only because of my regard for you
that I let you all now depart from here in peace."

Whether she heard or not, he could not say; certain it is that she made
no reply, nor did she turn toward him at all. The light of the lanthorn
lit up her delicate profile, pale and drawn, her tightly pressed lips,
the look of utter contempt in her eyes, which even the fitful shadow
cast by her hair over her brows could not altogether conceal.

The Comte had given what instructions he wished to Pierre. He stood by
the carriage door waiting for his daughter: no doubt he had heard what
went on between her and de Marmont, and was content to leave her to deal
what scorn was necessary for the humiliation of the traitor.

He helped Crystal into the carriage, and also the unfortunate Jeanne;
finally he too followed, and pulled the door to behind him.

Victor did not wait to see the coach make a start. He gave the order to
remount.

"How far are we from St. Priest?" he asked.

"Not eight kilomètres, mon Colonel," was the reply.

"En avant then, ventre-à-terre!" he commanded, as he swung himself into
the saddle.

The great high road between Grenoble and Lyons is very wide, and Pierre
had no need to draw his horses to one side, as de Marmont and his troop,
after much scrambling, champing of bits and clanking of metal, rode at a
sharp trot past the coach and him.