The Grey Cloak - Page 228/256

"I will confess to you," he said simply.

"To me?" Brother Jacques recoiled. "Let me call Father Chaumonot."

"To you or to no one."

"Give me a moment to think." Brother Jacques was secretly pleased to

have tamed this spirit.

"To you or to no one," repeated the vicomte. "Do you believe in the

holiness and sacredness of your office?"

"As I believe in God," devoutly. Fervor had at once elevated Brother

Jacques's priestly mind above earthly cunning.

"You will hear my confession?"

"Yes."

The vicomte knelt. From time to time he made a passionate gesture. It

was not a long confession, but it was compact and telling.

"Absolvo te," murmured Brother Jacques mechanically, gazing toward

Heaven.

Immediately the solemnity of the moment was jarred by a laugh. The

vicomte was standing, all piety gone from his face; and a rollicking

devil shone from his eyes.

"Now, my curious friend," tapping the astonished priest on the breast,

"I have buried my secret beneath this black gown; tell it if you dare."

"You have tricked me in the name of God?" horrified.

"Self-preservation; your knowledge forced me to it. And it was a

pretty trick, you will admit, casuist that you are."

"And if I should break my vows?" furiously.

"Break your vows and I promise to kill you out of hand."

"From behind?"

"In whatever manner appears most expedient. That fool of a Brissac; he

simply committed suicide. There was no other mode of egress open to

me. It was my life or his. That cloak! Well, that was to tell tales

in case I was seen from a distance. It nearly succeeded. And I will

make an additional confession," throwing back his head, his eyes

narrowing, his whole attitude speaking a man's passion. "Yes, your

keen intuition has put its finger on the spot. I hate the Chevalier,

hate him with a strong man's hate, the unending hate of wounded vanity,

of envy, of thwarted desires. There was a woman, once, whom he lured

away from me; he gained the commission in the Guards over my head; he

was making love to Madame de Brissac, while I, poor fool, loitered in

the antechamber. I should have sought all means to bring about his

ruin, had he not taken the labor from my hands. But a bastard!"

Brother Jacques shuddered. "Bah! What could I do? I could become

only a spectator. My word for it, it has been a fine comedy, this

bonhomie of mine, this hail-fellow well met. And only to-night he saw

the pit at his feet. If that fool of a corporal had not been drunk."

"Wretch!" cried the priest, trembling as if seized with convulsion.

Duped!

The vicomte opened the door, and bowed with his hand upon his heart.