|
|
Indeed, Aurore de Marigny's anxiety
would have turned to real alarm could she have guessed Talon's
purpose in coming up to the château to-day.
He made his way quite unceremoniously to the small boudoir where
Monseigneur usually sat, entered without knocking and with all
the assurance of a privileged guest, rather than of a servant.
Charles de Marigny always writhed at this show of independence
on the part of his once obsequious bailiff. In spite of his outward
stoicism, he had not yet become accustomed to those principles
of equality which placed the caitiff on a level with the seigneur.
Every time that Talon came into his presence with the swaggering
air of an equal, and the suggestion of sympathy and protection
more galling than enmity, Monseigneur would grind his teeth and
clench his hands in an effort not to strike the insolent varlet.
But he had enough sense to realize that, as far as the future
was concerned, his safety, and perhaps his life and that of Aurore
were dependent on this man's good-will: so he swallowed his wrath
and returned Talon's casual greeting with as much heartiness as
he could.
With scant ceremony the bailiff took the chair lately occupied
by the Abbé, poured himself out a glass of water, drank
it down, and remarked with an attempt at jocularity:
"No more Burgundy in the cellar, eh? Well! never mind, better
times will be coming soon."
Then he talked about the weather, commented on the latest news
from Paris, seeming not to notice Monseigneur's absorption. At
last Charles de Maringy broke in impatiently:
"Well, what about the granaries?"
Talon sighed and dolefully shook his head.
"Burnt to the ground. Nothing saved."
"And the mill?"
"Alas!"
Monseigneur had made a vigorous effort to control his temper,
but with each curt answer from his bailiff the veins on his temples
stood out more and more like cords, and he pressed his lips tightly
together because he felt that his breath was coming and going
with a hissing sound. All of which Talon did not fail to notice,
even while he appeared absorbed in picking at the nails of one
hand with those of the other.
"And," Monseigneur asked, after a moment or two when
he thought that his voice would sound steady, "what have
you done about it?"
"I, my dear sir!" Talon exclaimed, "what do you
suppose I can do?"
This easy familiarity, this jaunty "my dear sir" required
yet another effort on De Marigny's part to keep his temper. He
did it, nevertheless, forced himself to appear at ease with this
man the very sight of whom he detested, and after a moment he
said with quiet deliberation:
"I ordered you, some time ago, when that raffish mob fired
my bakery, to let the miscreants know that for every building
of mine which they destroyed I would raze one of their cottages
to the very ground."
"But, my dear friend-" began Talon in protest.
"I am not your dear friend," Charles de Marigny broke
in, on the fringe of exasperation, "but your employer! I
gave you certain orders. Did you execute them?"
"I did my best. I threw out hints. I warned them, but I
dare not do more."
"Your warnings were no use, apparently. Two valuable granaries
have been wantonly destroyed: also the mill, which cost thousands
to build only have a dozen years ago: find me a handful of honest
men - men who will do what they are paid to do. Choose any two
cottages in the village you like, evict the tenants, and let not
one stone remain upstanding."
"Monseigneur!-" Talon exclaimed with a gasp.
"Ah!" De Marigny rejoined with a sneer. "It has
brought you to your senses, too, has it? You realize that I am
not your dear friend but a man who has not forgotten either his
position or his rights? Those devils up in Paris talk of a government
by terror. Terror, they say, is the order of the day, and they
remain in power because they govern by fear. Terror is going to
be the order of the day on my estate. An eye for an eye; a tooth
for a tooth. A cottage for my granary; a house for my mill. Find
me the men, Talon: I'll show those dastardly ruffians down there
that I am still their lord and master."
Charles de Marigny had worked himself up into a state bordering
on frenzy. All his common sense, his stoicism had fled to the
winds. He had nursed his resentment, his longing to hit back,
for so long that all this wanton outrage against his property
he lost all sense of proportion, and seized the opportunity to
strike, and strike again, not counting the cost of the deadly
danger. If he had been perfectly sane at the moment he not only
would have realized the folly of such arrogance, but he would
not have failed to notice that his bailiff, far from appearing
horrified at the monstrous suggestion or frightened at its probably
consequences, sat huddled up in his chair with his bony hand across
his mouth.
Talon was doing his best to conceal the sneer that lurked around
his lips and the gleam of triumph that shot through his eyes.
For months now he had worked for this: to bring this arrogant
fool to a state of exasperation had been the aim and object of
all his scheming and his double game. Those whom the dogs wish
to punish they first strike with madness. Talon knew no Latin,
but he did know that he had at last succeeded in bringing to the
point of frenzy the man on whom depended the success of all his
well laid plans.
"Monseigneur," he murmured again. "You don't seem
to realize the temper of the people..."
He had shed his easy familiarity as he would a mantle; he was
obsequious, servile, cringing now.
"It is time they realized mine," De Marigny retorted
proudly. "I or that rabble. One of us must be the master
here."
"Unfortunately they have the power... and the numbers. You
are alone."
Monseigneur said nothing for the moment. He sat staring out of
the window through which he could perceive over the treetops the
ruins of his mill and his granaries. It seemed as if his outburst
had tired him out. He looked, all of a sudden, like a sick and
weary old man; the blood was ebbing out of his temples; he closed
his eyes for a moment or two, and a long sigh broke through his
trembling lips.
Talon drew his chair a little closer to him, and, sinking his
harsh voice to an insinuating whisper, he said:
"Why not turn your back on the rabble? Get away to England
or Belgium... emigrate. So many of your friends have done it..."
Monseigneur made no reply; but Talon, whose keen eyes were watching
every change on the proud, expressive face, saw a sudden softening
of its lines, as if an invisible hand had passed over them and
erased all that were hard and cruel. And in the eyes there crept
a look which was almost one of yearning.
"So many have done it," Talon reiterated. "It
is the only road to safety."
But, as quickly as they had come, softness and yearning had already
vanished from De Marigny's expression; once more the eyes became
hard, the mouth obstinate.
"I'll not go, Talon," he said forcefully, and brought
his clenched fist down on the arm of his chair. "I will see
this devilry through to the end. I will hold the fort against
this rabble, though, as you say, I must do it alone. but nobody
shall lord it over Marigny while I live."
"It wouldn't be a case of any one 'lording' it," Talon
murmured, "only of a temporary arrangement. Scores of gentlemen
have done it... and it is the safest plan."
He waited a moment or two, then he added:
"The safest plan for you and Mademoiselle Aurore."
This time the blow had gone him. Charles de Marigny could not
suppress a cry of anguish.
"Aurore!"
"But," he went on slowly, speaking as if to himself,
"if we go - if we - if we emigrate - those devils will confiscate
the whole of my property, and-"
Talon had to make a great effort to conceal the gleam of satisfaction
that shot through his yellow eyes: Monseigneur had started to
argue the point - and that was the first sign of defeat.
"Only nominally," he said. "The whole plan is
of the simplest - as I said just now - a temporary arrangement...."
"What temporary arrangement?" De Marigny asked with
a frown.
"A paper making the property over to - to - a faithful servant
- just a temporary arrangement, as I say - the other party undertaking
to restore the property to its original owner on demand. It is
done every day, my friend. Half the estates in France, at this
moment, are nominally the property of men who have undertaken
to administer them on the quiet, till times are better...."
"In this case you mean yourself?"
"Oh, I don't know that, my good sir. The risks are very
great, you must remember."
"How do you mean - the risks? There are no risks, except
for the unfortunate owners who put themselves at the mercy of
knaves."
"Only for the time being - always supposing that those others
are knaves. But when life is at stake - and not only one's own
life, but that of others who are very dear - well, one must take
certain risks. And there is little risk in trusting a faithful
servant who has looked after your interests for twenty years."
Talon had a persuasive tongue, and as soon as he noted that his
suggestion had made a breach in Monseigneur's armour of pride
and obstinacy, he pressed his point home. It was done every day.
The sale of the estate was nominal. The price paid in worthless
bits of government bonds. Talon had once more dropped his show
of servility. He "dear sir"-ed and "my dear friend"-ed
De Marigny because he had not rejected the proposal with scorn
but was pondering over it. Half the battle, then, was already
won, and Talon saw himself in possession of Marigny, at any rate
for a number of years, long enough to build a good nest egg and
then to flit out of the country if times changed back to the old
regime and he was summarily dispossessed.
"You, as the owner, would run no risk," he went on
more glibly. "The risks would all be mine, if I undertook
the task, for I might be denounced as a traitor for my devotion
to you. But you! Why, my dear friend, you could go away to England
or Belgium with Mademoiselle Aurore, and when you came back to
Marigny four or five years hence - the present state of things
cannot last longer than that - you will find your estates impoverished,
no doubt, but your house standing where it did."
He rose, preparing to take his leave. He knew well enough that
he had sown the right seed in fairly receptive soil and that to
say more just now might imperil the happy issue of his fight.
Whether, when once more left to himself, Charles de Marigny would
return to his state of arrogance and frenzy or ponder more deeply
over his bailiff's suggestion was on the knees of the gods. it
was no use thinking that the battle was already won. It was not.
There was a chink in the armour of obstinacy, and that was all.
"I'll bring you the papers in a day or two," he said
casually, as he took his leave. "It is quite a simple affair.
You acknowledge having received a certain sum from me for the
sale of all your properties wheresoever situated, and I sign an
undertaking to restore them to you on demand and the repayment
of the money."
"On demand?"
"Why, yes! You are not likely to return to this hell upon
earth, are you? Unless times have much changed."
And Charles de Marigny, as if wear of struggle and argument,
assented somewhat lamely.
"Yes, yes, Talon. Quite right! You are right, I am sure,
and you mean well. Bring me the papers; I'll look at them."
"In the meanwhile I'll give it out more decidedly that if
any more arson occurs on your property you will give as good as
you get."
"Yes, yes!" Monseigneur assented, his exasperation
getting, at last, completely the better of his good sense. "Do
what you like, but, for God's sake, get out of my sight now! I
am sick of you and your ugly face."
Talon grinned. Memory took him back to those days before the
great upheaval, when Monseigneur le Duc de Marigny was in the
habit of thus dismissing his obsequious bailiff. Times had changed,
but not Monseigneur. Talon knew well enough that beneath a great
deal of show of stoicism the old Adam could always be reckoned
with. Because of that old Adam of arrogance and tyranny he would
gain his point. Monseigneur would be forced to yield Marigny up
to him or perish at the hands of an infuriated mob.
And Hector Talon made his way home, satisfied with the morning's
work.
Return to Table of Contents
To Previous
Chapter To Next Chapter 
