The Grey Cloak
Page 174D'Hérouville choked, and presently found his voice. "I have not even
touched him. God is witness! He has been stricken by a vapor, or he
is dead."
"It is well for you, Monsieur, that your sword did not touch him. You
had better go."
The count's hand shook so that he could hardly put his rapier into the
scabbard. With a dazed glance at the marquis, who had not yet stirred,
with another glance at the priest, he passed out, holding the flat of
his hand against his side.
"He lives; that is well. So I must go on to the end."
He poured out some wine and bathed the marquis's temples and wrists.
Next he lifted the old man in his arms and carried him to the bed,
undressed him, and covered him over. He drew a chair to the side of
the bed and sat down, waiting and watching. Occasionally his glance
wandered, to the sinking candles, to the moon outside, from the marbled
face on the pillow to the empty wine-glass on the small table. Once he
recollected seeing an envelope within a hand's span of the glass.
seemed incredible. What must this man have been in his prime? Age
vanquishing youth! A shiver ran across Brother Jacques's spine, a
shiver of admiration and wonder. He touched the withered hand which
had but a few moments since been endowed with marvelous skill and
cunning and strength: it was icy and damp.
He filled the glass of wine, ready for the marquis's awakening, and
again found his gaze entrapped by the envelope. His hand reached out
for it absently and without purpose. He read the address
his hands at my death." The marquis, then, had lost some friend? He
put back the letter, placing a book upon it to prevent its being swept
to the floor.
There was a sound. The marquis had recovered his senses. He looked
blankly around, at the candles, at Brother Jacques, at the sheets which
covered his strangely deadened limbs.
"Ah! I have had only a bad dream, then? Pour me a glass of wine, and
I shall sleep."