A TRIAL OF ALLEGIANCE

Mademoiselle d’Aumenier had seated herself at a table and remained there in spite of the entreaties and black looks of the prisoners.  Marteau did not dare to leave his loophole, but the necessity for watching did not prevent him from talking.  The men outside seemed to have decided that nothing more could be done for the present.  They withdrew from out of range of the deadly fire of the defenders and, back of the wagons, kindled fires, and seemed to be preparing to make a night of it.

The best officers of the detachment were prisoners in the chateau.  The subordinate who had been entrusted with the pursuit was young and inexperienced; the Cossack commander was a mere raider.  They themselves belonged to the cavalry.  They decided, after inspecting the whole building carefully as nearly as they dared in view of the constant threat of discharge, that they would have to wait until morning, unless something occurred to them or some chance favored them.  They trusted that at daylight they would have no difficulty in effecting an entrance somewhere.  A total of three men dead and one wounded, to say nothing of the sentries and officers, had a discouraging effect on night work.  They did not dream that there was an enemy, a French soldier, that is, nearer than Troyes.  They supposed that the castle had been seized by some of the enraged country people who had escaped the Cossacks and that they could easily deal with them in the morning.

Incidentally, the wine cellars in which the peasants had been shut had openings to the outer air, and through them came shouts and cries which added to the mystification of the besiegers and increased their prudence.  The walls of the chateau were massive, the floors thick, the wine cellar far away, and no sound came from them to the inmates of the great hall.  Indeed, in the exciting adventure that had taken place, the raiders had been completely forgot by Marteau and the others.

The conversation in the hall was not animated.  The Countess Laure, womanlike, at last began to ask questions.

“Monsieur Marteau,” she asked persuasively, “will you hear reason?”

“I will hear anything, mademoiselle, from you,” was the instant reply.

“Think of the unhappy state of France.”

“I have had reason enough to think of it to-night, mademoiselle.  My father and my sister -” his voice faltered.

“I know,” said the girl sympathetically, and, indeed, she was deeply grieved for the misfortunes of the faithful and devoted old man and the young girl she had loved.  She waited a moment and then continued.  “The Emperor is at last facing defeat.  His cause is hopeless.”

“He yet lives,” answered the soldier softly.

“Yes, of course,” said the woman.  “I do not understand the military situation, but my friends -”

“Will monsieur allow me the favor of a word?” interposed the chief Russian officer courteously.

“If it is not to summon assistance you may speak,” replied Marteau.

“As a soldier you know the situation as well as I,” continued the Russian.  “Prince Von Schwarzenberg has Napoleon in his grasp.  He will hold him until he is ready to seize him, while Field-Marshal Bluecher takes Paris.”

“The Emperor yet lives,” said Marteau, repeating his former remark with more emphasis and smiling somewhat scornfully.  “It is not wise to portion the lion’s skin while it covers his beating heart,” he added meaningly.

“Not even the genius of your Emperor,” persisted the Russian more earnestly, “will avail now, monsieur.  He is lost, his cause as well.  Why, this very convoy tells the story.  We intercepted letters that told how pressing was its need.  Your army is without arms, without food, without clothes.”

“It still has its Emperor.”

“Death!” cried the Russian impatiently.  “Must we kill him in order to teach you a lesson?”

“You will not kill him while there is a soldier in France to interpose his body.”

“Very heroic, doubtless,” sneered the Russian, beginning to get angry.  “But you know your cause is lost.”

“And if it were?”

“Be reasonable.  There are many Frenchmen with the allied armies.  Your rank is ?”

“I am a Major on the Emperor’s staff if you are interested to know.”

“Major Marteau, I have no doubt that my interest with my Emperor, the Czar Alexander, with whom I am remotely connected-I may say I am a favorite officer in his guard-would doubtless insure you a Colonel’s commission, perhaps even that of a General of Brigade, with my gracious master, or in the army of King Louis after we have replaced him on his throne if -”

“If what?”

“If you release us, restore us to our command.  Permit us to send for horses to take the place of those we have killed to take the wagons of the valuable convoy to our own army.”

“And you would have me abandon my Emperor?”

“For the good of France,” urged the Russian meaningly.

“Will you answer me a question, monsieur?” continued the young man after a moment’s deep thought.

“Certainly, if it be not treason to my master.”

“Oh, you have views on treason, then,” said the Frenchman adroitly and not giving the other time to answer he continued.  “To what corps are you attached?”

“Count Sacken’s.”

“And whose division?”

“General Olsuvieff’s.”

“Monsieur,” said the young Frenchman calmly, “it is more than probable that before to-morrow your division will be annihilated and the next day the corps of General Sacken may meet the same fate.”

The Russian laughed scornfully at what seemed to him the wildest boasting.

“Are you mad?”

“Not so mad as you will be when it happens.”

The Russian controlled himself with difficulty in the face of the irritating observations.

“And who will do this?” he asked, at last.

“The Emperor.”

“Does he command the lightning-flash that he could hurl the thunder-bolt from Troyes?”

“Upon my word, I believe he does,” laughed the Frenchman.

“This is foolish jesting, boy,” broke out the Englishman.  “I am a man of consideration in my own country.  The lady here will bear me out.  I offered you fifty pounds.  I will give you five hundred if you will release us and -”

“And I offer you my-friendship,” said the Countess, making a long pause before the last word.

How much of it she meant or how little no one could say.  Any ruse was fair in war like this.  Marteau looked at her.  The color flamed to her cheek and died away.  It had flamed into his cheek and died away also.

“Gentlemen,” he said, “you offer me rank, money -” he paused-“friendship -” he shot a meaning glance at the young girl.  He paused again.

“Well?” said the Russian.

“Speak out,” said the Englishman.  “Your answer, lad?”

“I refuse.”

“Don’t be a fool,” roared Sir Gervaise bluntly.

“I refuse, I repeat,” said Marteau.  “While the Emperor lives I am his man.  Not rank, not money, not friendship, not love itself even could move me.  Enough, gentlemen,” he continued imperiously as the two Russians and the Englishman all began to speak at once.  “No more.  Such propositions are insults.”

“There is another appeal which ought to be brought to your attention, young sir,” said the second Russian officer when he could be heard.

“And what is that?”

“Your life.  You know that as soon as day breaks the chateau will be seized.  You are a self-confessed spy.  You came here wearing a Russian uniform.  As soon as we are released we shall hang you as a spy.  But if you release us now, on my word of honor you shall go free.”

“Monsieur is a very brave man,” said Marteau smiling.

“Why?”

“To threaten me with death while he is in my power.  You are the only witnesses.  I could make way with you all.”

“You forget the Countess and the English gentleman.”

“Although the Countess is the enemy of France -”

“Nay, nay, the friend,” interposed the girl.

“Be it so.  Although she is the enemy of the Emperor then, I cannot believe that she could condemn to death by her testimony the man who has saved her from worse than death, and as for the English gentleman -”

“Damme if I’d say a word to hurt you, if only for what you have done for her, whether you release me or not,” cried Yeovil.

“You see?”

“Monsieur Jean,” said the Countess, “you put me under great obligations to you.”

“By saving your life, your honor, mademoiselle!  I gladly -”

“By giving me your confidence,” interrupted the girl, who in her secret heart was delighted at the stand the young officer had taken.  She would have despised him if he had succumbed to the temptation of which she herself was part.

“I could do no less, mademoiselle,” returned Marteau.  “I and my forbears have served your house and known it and loved it for eight hundred years.”

“I know it,” answered the girl.  “I value the association.  I am proud of it.”

“And since you know it and recognize it perhaps you will tell me how you happen to be here.”

“Willingly,” answered Mademoiselle Laure.  “The estates are to be sold.  There are deeds and papers of value in the chateau without which transactions could not be completed.  I alone knew where they were.  With Monsieur Yeovil, my uncle’s friend and the father of -” she hesitated and then went on, “so I came to France.”

“But with the invading armies -”

“There was no other way.  The Czar Alexander gave me a safe conduct.  A company of his guards escorted us.  Sir Gervaise Yeovil was accredited to Lord Castlereagh, but with his permission he brought me here first.  My uncle was too old to come.  Arrived here we found the Cossacks, the wagon-train.  There was a battle, a victory, pursuit.  Then those villains seized us.  They stole upon us unsuspecting, having murdered the sentries, and then you came.”

“I see.  And have you the papers?”

“They are - Not yet, but I may take them?”

“Assuredly, so far as I am concerned,” answered Marteau, “although I regret to see the old estate pass out of the hands of the ancient family.”

“I regret it also, but I am powerless.”

“We played together here as children,” said Marteau.  “My father has kept it well since.  Your father died and now mine is gone -”

“And I am very sorry,” answered the young woman softly.

Marteau turned away, peered out of the window and sank into gloomy silence.