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I had but helped her on her way, and there was an end of it. So I swallowed my ill-humour as best I could, and, to his astonishment, making the landlord of the inn a present of the horse we had taken at Le Jaquemart, Pierrebon and I went on our way. I rode sullenly on, my eyes between my horse's ears.
If further proof is needed I beg leave to refer to the confession of the Italian, Torquato Trotto, made at his expiation, which gives many and curious details, especially of what happened in Le Jaquemart, and which is registered in the archives of the Parliament of Paris, where all who list may see it.
"Here, here!" he exclaimed, his voice almost cracking with excitement "here! in Le Jaquemart! My sword, Trotto quick!" And he shivered with pain as he attempted to stand; but Torquato made him sit back, and when he had succeeded told him what is already known.
As we did so we perceived that it was surrounded by a high stone wall, and mademoiselle exclaimed positively: "It is Le Jaquemart; but it is strange it is occupied, for the Sieur de Richelieu is in Italy." "Bien," I thought to myself, "the furrier's niece knows all about the Sieurs de Richelieu!"
But mademoiselle simply leaned forward and kissed her forehead, and the caress broke the woman down. Falling on her knees she sobbed out: "Forgive! forgive! Mademoiselle, there is danger here! They are going to kill here! Go back to monsieur, and leave this place whilst there is time. Better trust to the mercy of the forest wolves than the mercy of Le Jaquemart." "Is this true?"
He had not forgotten my warning pressure on his arm as we entered the gates of Le Jaquemart, and now his worst fears were confirmed. For a moment his heart sank, but for a moment only, for as he looked around him his eyes fell on the arquebus, where it leaned against the wall. The fuse was still alight. There was no time to hesitate.
As we approached it, mademoiselle said: "It may be the hunting-lodge of Le Jaquemart, belonging to the Sieur de Richelieu." "Well, we will know soon," I said, and urged Pierrebon to quicken his pace. There was but a bare quarter mile of moorland, covered with yellow broom and purple thistle, to be passed, and then we came up to the house.
"And as the Chevalier here ran him through the ribs he may not unnaturally desire to repay the account," put in De Lorgnac. "It is not that," I said; "she warned me of danger in Le Jaquemart." "Precisely. It is of that I was thinking," said Le Brusquet.
This knocker, of the oblong shape and kind which our ancestors called jaquemart, looked like a huge note of exclamation; an antiquary who examined it attentively might have found indications of the figure, essentially burlesque, which it once represented, and which long usage had now effaced.
Monsieur, you may not believe me, but from that dreadful night at Le Jaquemart I have become a changed woman. I have learned, monsieur, how to pray, and, my God! the past the past!" And she put her hands to her face and shuddered. "Madame, there is always a future." "But never for a woman! Oh, Monsieur d'Orrain for I know your name now you know this as well as I." I made no answer.
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