Montrésor's comely young face looked monstrous wicked in the moonlight, and his eyes rolled curiously as he beheld me. Stepping up to him I freed him of his gag--an act which I had almost regretted a moment later, for he cleared his throat with so lusty a torrent of profanity that methought the heavens must have fallen on us. At last when he was done with that--"Before you leave me in this plight, M. de St. Auban," quoth he, "perchance you will satisfy me with an explanation of your unfathomable deeds and of this violence."
"St. Auban!" exclaimed the Chevalier.
"St. Auban!" cried Yvonne.
And albeit wonder rang in both their voices, yet their minds I knew went different ways.
"No, not St. Auban," I answered with a laugh and putting aside all counterfeit of speech.
"Par la mort Dieu! I know that voice," cried Montrésor.
"Mayhap, indeed! And know you not this face?" And as I spoke I whipped away my wig and mask, and thrust my countenance close up to his.
"Thunder of God!" ejaculated the boy. Then--"Pardieu," he added, "there is Michelot! How came I not to recognise him?"
"Since you would not assist me, Montrésor, you see I was forced to do without you."
"But St. Auban?" he gasped. "Where is he?"
"In heaven, I hope--but I doubt it sadly."
"You have killed him?"
There and then, as briefly as I might, I told him, whilst the others stood by to listen, how I had come upon the Marquis in the château the night before and what had passed thereafter.
"And now," I said, as I cut his bonds, "it grieves me to charge you with an impolite errand to his Eminence, but--"
"I'll not return to him," he burst out. "I dare not. Mon Dieu, you have ruined me, Luynes!"
"Then come with me, and I'll build your fortunes anew and on a sounder foundation. I have an influential letter in my pocket that should procure us fortune in the service of the King of Spain."
He needed little pressing to fall in with my invitation, so we set the sergeant free, and him instead I charged with a message that must have given Mazarin endless pleasure when it was delivered to him. But he had the Canaples estates wherewith to console himself and his never-failing maxim that "chi canta, paga." Touching the Canaples estates, however, he did not long enjoy them, for when he went into exile, two years later, the Parliament returned them to their rightful owner.
The Chevalier de Canaples approached me timidly.
"Monsieur," quoth he, "I have wronged you very deeply. And this generous rescue of one who has so little merited your aid truly puts me to so much shame that I know not what thanks to offer you."