The Grey Cloak Part 55

Monsieur le Marquis lay in his bed, the bed from which he was to rise but once again in life. His thin fingers had drawn the coverlet closely under his chin, and from time to time they worked spasmodically. His head, scarce less white than the pillow beneath it, went on nodding from side to side, as if in perpetual negation to those puzzling questions which occupied his brain. His eyebrows were constantly bending, and his grey eyes burned with a fever which was never to be subdued. Across the foot of the bed lay a golden bar of morning sunlight.

"How long must I lie in this cursed bed?" he asked.

Brother Jacques left the window and came to the bedside. "Perhaps a month, Monsieur; it all depends upon your patience."

"Patience? I have little against my account. When does the Henri IV sail?"

"A week from to-day."

"In bed or on foot, I shall sail with it. I am weary of trees, and rocks, and water. I desire to see the cobbles of Roch.e.l.le and Perigny before I die. Have you no canary in this abominable land?"

"The physician denies you wine, Monsieur."

"And what does that fool know about my needs?" demanded the invalid, stirring his feet as if striving to cast aside the sunlight. "Draw the shutter; the sun bites into my eyes. I abhor suns.h.i.+ne in bed. I am seventy, and yet I have risen with the sun for more than sixty-five years. Have you any books?"

"Only of a religious and sacred character, and a volume of the letters of the Order." Brother Jacques offered these without confidence.

"Drivel! Find me something lively: Monsieur Brantome, for instance.

Surely Monsieur de Lauson has these memoirs in his collection."

"I shall make inquiries." Brother Jacques was not at ease.

A long pause ensued.

It was the marquis who broke it. "Why do you come and stand at the side of the bed and stare at me when you suppose I am sleeping? I have watched you, and it annoys me."

"I shall do so no more, Monsieur."

"But why?"

"Perhaps I was contemplating what a happiness it would be to bring about your salvation."

"Ah! I remember now. I told you that if ever I changed my mind regarding wors.h.i.+p I should make my first confession to you. Yes, I remember distinctly. Well, Monsieur, you have still some time to wait.

I am not upon my death-bed."

The priest turned aside his head.

"Eh? Has that fool of a blood-letter made an ante-mortem?"

"No, Monsieur. But the strongest and youngest of us retire each night, not knowing if we shall rise with the morrow. And you are more ill than you think. It is what they call the palsy. It can not be cured.

But your soul may be saved. There is time."

"Palsy? Bah! The wine always stopped my head from wagging. And hang me if that dream of mine hasn't numbed my legs." The marquis held out a hand. "And in my dream I believed this hand to be holding a sword!

It was a gallant fight, as I remember. I was Quixote, defending some fool-thing or other."

"Have you ever thought of the future, Monsieur?"

"Death? My faith, no! I have been too busy with the past. The past, the past!" and the marquis closed his eyes. "It walks beside me like a shadow. If I were not too old . . . I should regret . . . some of it."

"There is relief in confession."

"I have nothing to confess."

"Shall I seek Monsieur le Chevalier?"

"No. Do not disturb him. He has his affairs. He is busy becoming great and respected," ironically. "Besides, the sight of the stubborn fool would send me into spasms. After all the trouble I have taken for his sake! You do well to take the orders. You do not marry, and you have no ungrateful sons. It was not enough to confess that I lied to him; I must strain the buckles at my knees. But not yet."

"Lied?"

"Why, yes. I told him that he was . . . But what is it to you? He is a fool . . . like his father. To throw away a marquisate and the income of a prince! Curse this bed!" with sullen fury.

"Perhaps, Monsieur, the bed is of your own making."

"Ah! So we also indulge in irony? If this bed is of my own making, my mind was occupied with softer things. Would you not like the love of women, endless gold, priceless wines, and all that the world gives to the worldly? Come; what secret envy is yours, you who sleep on straw, in clammy cells, and dine on crusts?"

Brother Jacques went back to his window. He was pale. How deftly had the marquis placed his finger on the raw! Envy? All his life he had envied the rich and the worldly; all his life he had struggled between his cravings and his honesty. Had he not shaved his crown that his head might have a pallet to sleep on and his hunger a crust? His nails indented his palms, but he felt no pain. He was grateful for the cool of the morning air. Down below he saw the Vicomte d'Halluys tramping about in company with some soldiers. The Jesuit stared at that picturesque face. Where had he seen it prior to that night at the Corne d'Abondance?

Up and down the winding path settlers, soldiers, merchants, trappers and Indians straggled, with an occasional seigneur lending to the scene the pomp of a vanished Court. Far away the priest could see a hawk, circling and circling in the summer sky. Now and then a dove flashed by, and a golden b.u.mblebee blundered into the chamber.

"I will fetch Sister Benie," Brother Jacques said at length. He dreaded to remain with this fierce-eyed old man from whom nothing seemed hidden, not even secret thought. "She is an excellent nurse."

"She will please me better than Monsieur le Comte."

The t.i.tle stirred Brother Jacques strangely.

"But give her to understand," added the marquis, "that I want no canting Loyola. Who is this Sister Benie?"

"She is of the Ursulines."

"No, no; I mean, what does she look like and of what family."

"I have never studied her visual beauty," coldly. Brother Jacques was anxious to be gone.

"I have known priests who were otherwise inclined. I suppose you can see her soul. That is interesting."

"I will go at once in quest of her;" and Brother Jacques went forth.

The marquis turned a cheek to his pillow. "Jehan!"

"Yes, Monsieur," answered the old lackey from his corner.

"I do not like that young priest. He is all eyes; and he makes me cold."

Brother Jacques meanwhile found Sister Benie in one of the Indian schoolrooms.

"Sister, are you too busy to attend the wants of a sick man?"