"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 bumblebee blundered into the chamber.