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Marguerite de Valois
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"It is not a funny one, apparently, for you are frightfully pale."
"I was wondering why they should take us to the chapel."
"Why," said Coconnas, "to receive the sacrament. This is the time for it, I think."
"But," said La Mole, "they take only those condemned to death or the torture to the chapel."
"Oh!" said Coconnas, becoming somewhat pale in turn, "this deserves our attention. Let us question the good man whom I am to split open. Here, turnkey!"
"Did monsieur call?" asked the jailer, who had been keeping watch at the top of the stairs.
"Yes; come here."
"Well?"
"It has been arranged that we are to escape from the chapel, has it not?"
"Hush!" said the turnkey, looking round him in terror.
"Do not worry; no one can hear us."
"Yes, monsieur; it is from the chapel."
"They are to take us to the chapel, then?"
"Yes; that is the custom."
"The custom?"
"Yes; it is customary to allow every one condemned to death to pass the night in the chapel."
Coconnas and La Mole shuddered and glanced at each other.
"You think we are condemned to death, then?"
"Certainly. You, too, must think so."
"Why should we think so?" asked La Mole.
"Certainly; otherwise you would not have arranged everything for your escape."
"Do you know, there is reason in what he says!" said Coconnas to La Mole.
"Yes; and what I know besides is that we are playing a close game, apparently."
"But do you think I am risking nothing?" said the turnkey. "If in a moment of excitement monsieur should make a mistake" —
"Well! by Heaven! I wish I were in your place," said Coconnas, slowly, "and had to deal with no hand but this; with no sword except the one which is to graze you."
"Condemned to death!" murmured La Mole, "why, that is impossible!"
"Impossible!" said the turnkey, naïvely, "and why?"
"Hush!" said Coconnas, "I think some one is opening the lower door."
"To your cells, gentlemen, to your cells!" cried the jailer, hurriedly.
"When do you think the trial will take place?" asked La Mole.
"To-morrow, or later. But be easy; those who must be informed shall be."
"Then let us embrace each other and bid farewell to these walls."
The two friends rushed into each other's arms and then returned to their cells, La Mole sighing, Coconnas singing.
Nothing new happened until seven o'clock. Night fell dark and rainy over the prison of Vincennes, a perfect night for flight. The evening meal was brought to Coconnas, who ate with his usual appetite, thinking of the pleasure he would feel in being soaked in the rain, which was pattering against the walls, and already preparing himself to fall asleep to the dull, monotonous murmur of the wind, when suddenly it seemed to him that this wind, to which he occasionally listened with a feeling of melancholy never before experienced by him until he came to prison, whistled more strangely than usual under the doors, and that the stove roared with a louder noise than common. This had happened every time one of the cells above or opposite him was opened. It was by this noise that Annibal always knew the jailer was coming from La Mole's cell.
But this time it was in vain that Coconnas remained with eye and ear alert.
The moments passed; no one came.
"This is strange," said Coconnas, "La Mole's door has been opened and not mine. Could La Mole have called? Can he be ill? What does it mean?"
With a prisoner everything is a cause for suspicion and anxiety, as everything is a cause for joy and hope.
Half an hour passed, then an hour, then an hour and a half.
Coconnas was beginning to grow sleepy from anger when the grating of the lock made him spring to his feet.
"Oh!" said he, "has the time come for us to leave and are they going to take us to the chapel without condemning us? By Heaven, what joy it would be to escape on such a night! It is as dark as an oven! I hope the horses are not blind."
He was about to ask some jocular question of the turnkey when he saw the latter put his finger to his lips and roll his eyes significantly. Behind the jailer Coconnas heard sounds and perceived shadows.
Suddenly in the midst of the darkness he distinguished two helmets, on which the smoking candle threw a yellow light.
"Oh!" said he in a low voice, "what is this sinister procession? What is going to happen?"
The jailer replied by a sigh which greatly resembled a groan.
"By Heaven!" murmured Coconnas; "what a wretched existence! always on the ragged edge; never on firm land; either we paddle in a hundred feet of water or we hover above the clouds; never a happy medium. Well, where are we going?"
"Follow the halberdiers, monsieur," repeated the same voice.
He had to obey. Coconnas left his room, and perceived the dark man whose voice had been so disagreeable. He was a clerk, small and hunchbacked, who no doubt had put on the gown in order to hide his bandy legs, as well as his back. He slowly descended the winding stairs. At the first landing the guards paused.
"That is a good deal to go down," murmured Coconnas, "but not enough."
The door opened. The prisoner had the eye of a lynx and the scent of a bloodhound. He scented the judges and saw in the shadow the silhouette of a man with bare arms; the latter sight made the perspiration mount to his brow. Nevertheless, he assumed his most smiling manner, and entered the room with his head tipped to one side, and his hand on his hip, after the most approved manner of the times.
"I was wondering why they should take us to the chapel."
"Why," said Coconnas, "to receive the sacrament. This is the time for it, I think."
"But," said La Mole, "they take only those condemned to death or the torture to the chapel."
"Oh!" said Coconnas, becoming somewhat pale in turn, "this deserves our attention. Let us question the good man whom I am to split open. Here, turnkey!"
"Did monsieur call?" asked the jailer, who had been keeping watch at the top of the stairs.
"Yes; come here."
"Well?"
"It has been arranged that we are to escape from the chapel, has it not?"
"Hush!" said the turnkey, looking round him in terror.
"Do not worry; no one can hear us."
"Yes, monsieur; it is from the chapel."
"They are to take us to the chapel, then?"
"Yes; that is the custom."
"The custom?"
"Yes; it is customary to allow every one condemned to death to pass the night in the chapel."
Coconnas and La Mole shuddered and glanced at each other.
"You think we are condemned to death, then?"
"Certainly. You, too, must think so."
"Why should we think so?" asked La Mole.
"Certainly; otherwise you would not have arranged everything for your escape."
"Do you know, there is reason in what he says!" said Coconnas to La Mole.
"Yes; and what I know besides is that we are playing a close game, apparently."
"But do you think I am risking nothing?" said the turnkey. "If in a moment of excitement monsieur should make a mistake" —
"Well! by Heaven! I wish I were in your place," said Coconnas, slowly, "and had to deal with no hand but this; with no sword except the one which is to graze you."
"Condemned to death!" murmured La Mole, "why, that is impossible!"
"Impossible!" said the turnkey, naïvely, "and why?"
"Hush!" said Coconnas, "I think some one is opening the lower door."
"To your cells, gentlemen, to your cells!" cried the jailer, hurriedly.
"When do you think the trial will take place?" asked La Mole.
"To-morrow, or later. But be easy; those who must be informed shall be."
"Then let us embrace each other and bid farewell to these walls."
The two friends rushed into each other's arms and then returned to their cells, La Mole sighing, Coconnas singing.
Nothing new happened until seven o'clock. Night fell dark and rainy over the prison of Vincennes, a perfect night for flight. The evening meal was brought to Coconnas, who ate with his usual appetite, thinking of the pleasure he would feel in being soaked in the rain, which was pattering against the walls, and already preparing himself to fall asleep to the dull, monotonous murmur of the wind, when suddenly it seemed to him that this wind, to which he occasionally listened with a feeling of melancholy never before experienced by him until he came to prison, whistled more strangely than usual under the doors, and that the stove roared with a louder noise than common. This had happened every time one of the cells above or opposite him was opened. It was by this noise that Annibal always knew the jailer was coming from La Mole's cell.
But this time it was in vain that Coconnas remained with eye and ear alert.
The moments passed; no one came.
"This is strange," said Coconnas, "La Mole's door has been opened and not mine. Could La Mole have called? Can he be ill? What does it mean?"
With a prisoner everything is a cause for suspicion and anxiety, as everything is a cause for joy and hope.
Half an hour passed, then an hour, then an hour and a half.
Coconnas was beginning to grow sleepy from anger when the grating of the lock made him spring to his feet.
"Oh!" said he, "has the time come for us to leave and are they going to take us to the chapel without condemning us? By Heaven, what joy it would be to escape on such a night! It is as dark as an oven! I hope the horses are not blind."
He was about to ask some jocular question of the turnkey when he saw the latter put his finger to his lips and roll his eyes significantly. Behind the jailer Coconnas heard sounds and perceived shadows.
Suddenly in the midst of the darkness he distinguished two helmets, on which the smoking candle threw a yellow light.
"Oh!" said he in a low voice, "what is this sinister procession? What is going to happen?"
The jailer replied by a sigh which greatly resembled a groan.
"By Heaven!" murmured Coconnas; "what a wretched existence! always on the ragged edge; never on firm land; either we paddle in a hundred feet of water or we hover above the clouds; never a happy medium. Well, where are we going?"
"Follow the halberdiers, monsieur," repeated the same voice.
He had to obey. Coconnas left his room, and perceived the dark man whose voice had been so disagreeable. He was a clerk, small and hunchbacked, who no doubt had put on the gown in order to hide his bandy legs, as well as his back. He slowly descended the winding stairs. At the first landing the guards paused.
"That is a good deal to go down," murmured Coconnas, "but not enough."
The door opened. The prisoner had the eye of a lynx and the scent of a bloodhound. He scented the judges and saw in the shadow the silhouette of a man with bare arms; the latter sight made the perspiration mount to his brow. Nevertheless, he assumed his most smiling manner, and entered the room with his head tipped to one side, and his hand on his hip, after the most approved manner of the times.
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Последний отзыв
В борьбе за власть есть первые; есть вторые; и есть 6ыдло (из канала BS "Без Слёз").
- Вторые всегда стремятся стать первыми. Но ресурсы власти – у п...
Далее