CHAPTER XV.
THE END OF GABRIELLE’S TOWER.
Not until we had reached the platform and come out into the clear moonlight and the radiance of the glow cast by the flames was it possible for us to examine the rope and ascertain if Pasdeloup had really provided us with a means of escape. It was a cord, light, but of unusual strength, which had been passed from side to side of the bed to support the bedding, and was not rotted as I had feared. But it was too short—a glance told me that—too short by many feet to reach from the parapet to the ground.
“We must use one of the windows,” I said; and M. le Comte assented with a motion of the head.
I ran down to the floor below, and closing my ears as well as I could to the shrieks and curses of the mob which was struggling to force a passage of the stair, flung back the shutter of the window which looked out upon the wood opposite the château. Then cautiously I scanned the ground about the tower, but could see no evidence of any guard, nor any stragglers from the mob which was hurling itself on Pasdeloup. With a deep breath of relief I withdrew my head, and securing one end of the cord to the great hinge of the shutter, made a loop in the other.
At that instant M. le Comte came down the stair bringing the women with him. He noted my arrangements at a glance and approved them with a nod.
“Now, my love,” he said; and madame came forward at once, pale, but holding herself admirably in hand.
By the moonlight which flooded the apartment through the open window I perceived, dark against her bosom, the handle of a dagger, and instantly I knew who had given it to her, and why.
“I am ready,” she said, and lifted a radiant face to his.
I knew that she believed she was going to her death and was not afraid. They may rant about equality as they will, but after all blood will tell.
“Good!” he cried. “You are setting us all an example of courage. Sit here on the window-sill—so; now swing your feet over—so; now place them in this loop and grasp the rope tightly. Stay close by the tower until we descend. It will be but a moment. And now good-by, my love.”
She bent and kissed him, then let herself slide slowly from the window-ledge while we braced ourselves for the shock. I could see the shudder which shook her as she whirled for a moment in mid-air. I saw her teeth sink into her lip to restrain the cry of terror which rose in her throat. Then she succeeded in steadying herself, and we lowered her hand over hand.
“God grant that she has not been seen!” murmured M. le Comte; and from my heart I echoed the prayer.
In a moment the rope slackened and we knew that she had reached the ground. M. le Comte leaned out and looked down at her and waved his hand.
“She is safe,” he said. “She has not been seen.”
In a breath we had drawn the rope up again.
“Now, Charlotte,” said M. le Comte; and I helped her to mount the window.
“Mademoiselle,” I said hoarsely, “take this pistol. Conceal it somewhere in your gown; and if you are surprised, if you see there is no escape, use it.”
For an instant she did not understand; then with a quick breath she held out her hand.
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “I shall not forget;” and she thrust the weapon beneath her cloak.
“Good-by, my love!” I whispered; and with melting eyes she pressed her lips to mine. “My love! My love!”
She smiled at me tenderly; then she passed slowly downward, out of sight. A moment more and she, too, had reached the ground.
So concerned had we been in getting them safely down that neither of us had thought or ear for the tumult beneath our feet; but now, as we paused an instant to take breath, it seemed to me that it was mounting toward us.
“You next, M. le Comte,” I said; “and do not wait for me. Get under cover of the wood, and I will join you—but do not wait too long.”
He hesitated an instant, then sprang to the sill.
“That is best,” he assented. “We shall wait for you at the edge of the wood directly west of the tower. You cannot miss us. And we will wait until you come.”
He gripped my hand, caught the rope, and disappeared from the window. At the same instant I turned and darted down the stair.
At every step the pandemonium below grew in volume until it seemed that all the fiends of hell were fighting there. The pungent smell of powder assailed my nostrils, and through the darkness I caught the flash of musket and pistol and the flare of torches. But with a gasp of relief I saw that the mob had not yet gained a foothold in the room.
I sprang to one side where an angle of the wall shielded me from the bullets, and paused to look about me. The air was thick with smoke; and not until I drew quite near could I perceive Pasdeloup’s squat figure. He was standing at the head of the stair, a little to one side, his huge club raised in his hands. At that instant a shaggy head appeared and the club fell upon it, crushing it like a shell of glass. The body pitched forward quivering, and again Pasdeloup raised his club and waited, like the very god of death.
As I silently took my place beside him I perceived that the sounds from below were not all yells of rage and triumph; there were groans among them, and oaths, and screams of agony; and as the smoke lifted for an instant I saw that the stair was cumbered with bodies.
A sort of panic seized upon the mob as it discovered its own losses, and for a moment it drew back in terror before this mysterious and fearful weapon, which slew, and slew—silent, untiring. A sudden stillness fell upon them as they contemplated that bloody stair—a stillness broken only by those groans and curses. Then some one shouted a sharp command, and a cloud of black smoke puffed into our faces, and the odor of burning straw.
As I touched him on the arm, Pasdeloup, whose attention had been wholly concentrated on the stair, wheeled upon me, his club ready to strike.
“Come!” I shouted in his ear. “Come!” And I motioned to the stair behind us.
“M. le Comte,” he demanded, “where is he?”
“He is safe,” I answered. “So are the women. Save yourself!”
He glanced at the thickening smoke and sniffed the air with distended nostrils.
“They are going to burn us out,” he said; and even as he spoke a tongue of yellow flame licked the bottom of the stair.
Then the wounded wretches stretched upon it understood the fate in store for them. Their shrieks redoubled; but now there were prayers mingled with the curses. My heart turned sick within me as I looked at them.
“Come!” I urged, and plucked at my companion’s sleeve.
This time he nodded, and I sprang up the stair. He followed at my heels.
“Here we are,” I said, and paused at the open window.
He motioned me to precede him. I sprang to the sill, seized the cord and slid to the ground so rapidly that it burnt into my fingers; but I scarcely felt the pain. In a moment Pasdeloup stood beside me.
“This way,” he said; and without an instant’s hesitation led the way toward a thicket near the tower. We plunged into it without stopping to look back and pushed our way forward until we came to a little eminence bare of trees. Here we paused to take breath.
The dawn was just tinging the eastern sky, but across the cold, grey light there burst suddenly a mighty finger of flame. It was the tower, blazing like a monster torch; and I shuddered as I thought of the fate of the wretches who had perished there.