The Two Dianas, Volume 3 (of 3)

Arnauld du Thill was not at once taken back to the dungeon which he occupied in the conciergerie of Rieux. He was taken to a room adjoining that where the court was sitting, and was left alone for a few moments.

It might be, they told him, that after questioning his adversary, the judges would desire to hear him further. Left to his own reflections, the crafty scamp began by congratulating himself upon the effect he had evidently produced by his clever and bold speech. Brave Martin-Guerre, notwithstanding the righteousness of his cause, would surely find it hard to be so persuasive.

At all events Arnauld had gained time. But on thinking matters over more carefully he could not conceal from himself that he had gained nothing else. The truth which he had so audaciously distorted would finally overwhelm him on all sides. Could he hope that Monsieur de Montmorency himself, whose testimony he had dared to invoke, would take the risk of using his position to shield the avowed misdeeds of his spy? It was doubtful, to say the least.

The result of Arnauld's cogitations was that he gradually relapsed from hope to anxiety, and all things considered, said to himself that his position was not the most encouraging in the world.

He lowered his head under these discouraging thoughts, when some one came to take him back to prison.

So the tribunal had not thought best to question him further after Martin-Guerre's explanations! Another cause for anxiety.

All this, nevertheless, did not prevent Arnauld du Thill, who noticed everything, from observing that it was not his ordinary jailer who had come to take him, and was with him at that moment.

Why the change? Were they redoubling their precautions against his escape? Did they hope to make him confess? Arnauld determined to be on his guard, and said not a word during the whole walk.

But behold! another cause of amazement. The room to which this new custodian conducted Arnauld was not the one he ordinarily occupied.

The latter had a barred window and a high chimneypiece, which were lacking in the other.

However, everything bore witness to the recent presence of a prisoner,--crumbs of bread still fresh, a half-emptied cup of water, a straw pallet, and a half-opened chest within which could be seen a man's clothes.

Arnauld du Thill, who was well used to restraining his emotions, made no sign of surprise, but as soon as he found himself alone, he hastened to overhaul the chest.

He found nothing but clothes in it; nothing else to indicate its owner. But the clothes were of a color and cut which Arnauld seemed to remember. Especially two jerkins of brown cloth, and yellow tricot breeches, which were neither of a common shade nor shape.

"Oho," said Arnauld, "that would be strange!"

Just as night began to fall, the unknown jailer entered.

"Hallo, Master Martin-Guerre!" said he, laying his hand familiarly upon the pensive Arnauld's shoulder in a way to signify that the jailer knew his prisoner very well, even if the prisoner did not know his jailer.

"What is the matter, pray?" Arnauld asked this very friendly official.

"Well, it's just this, my dear fellow," the man replied; "your affair seems to be looking brighter and brighter. Who do you suppose has obtained leave from the judges, and now asks of yourself the favor of a few moments' conversation?"

"My faith, I can't imagine!" said Arnauld. "How should I know? Who can it be?"

"Your wife, my friend; even Bertrande de Rolles herself, who is beginning to see, doubtless, which one of you has the right on his side. But if I were in your place, I would refuse to receive her,--that I would."

"Why so?" asked Arnauld du Thill.

"Why?" repeated the jailer. "Why, because she has denied you for so long, of course! It is quite time for her to come over to the side of justice and truth, just when to-morrow at the latest the decree of the court will proclaim it publicly and officially! You agree with me, do you not? and I will send your ungrateful spouse about her business without ceremony."

The jailer took a step toward the door, but Arnauld stopped him with a gesture.

"No, no!" said he, "don't send her away. On the other hand, I want to see her. In short, since she has obtained leave from the judges, show Bertrande de Rolles in, my dear friend."

"Hum! Always the same," said the jailer. "Always easy-going and good-natured. If you allow your wife to reassert her former ascendency so quickly, you take a great risk. However, that's your business."

The jailer withdrew, shrugging his shoulders compassionately.

Two minutes later he returned with Bertrande de Rolles. It was growing darker every instant.

"I will leave you alone," said the jailer, "but I shall come to take Bertrande away before it is quite dark: those are the orders. So you have hardly a quarter of an hour; use it to quarrel or to make up, as you choose."

And he left the cell again.

Bertrande de Rolles came forward, shame-faced and with bent head, toward the pretended Martin-Guerre, who remained seated and silent, leaving it for her to begin the conversation.

"Oh, Martin!" said she at last, in a weak and hesitating voice, when she was at his side; "Martin, can you ever forgive me?"

Her eyes were wet with tears, and she was literally trembling in every limb.

"Forgive you for what?" replied Arnauld, who did not propose to commit himself.

"Why, for my stupid mistake," said Bertrande. "Of course I did very wrong not to recognize you. But was there not some excuse for my mistake, since it seems that at times you were deceived yourself? So it was necessary, I confess, to make me believe in my error, that the whole province, Monsieur le Comte de Montgommery, and justice, which knows everything, should prove to me that you are my true husband, and that the other is only a fraud and an impostor."

"But let us see," said Arnauld; "which is the acknowledged impostor,--the one whom Monsieur de Montgommery brought hither, or the one whom they found in possession of Martin-Guerre's goods and name?"

"Why, the other!" replied Bertrande; "the one who deceived me so, and whom during the last week I have still called my husband, stupid, blind fool that I was!"

"Aha, so the thing seems to be pretty well established now, does it?" asked Arnauld, with emotion.

"_Mon Dieu_! yes, Martin," Bertrande replied in some confusion. "The gentlemen of the court and your master, the worthy nobleman, told me just now that they had no longer any doubt, and that you were surely the true Martin-Guerre, my dear, good husband."

"Ah, indeed," said Arnauld, whose cheek paled in spite of himself.

"Thereupon," continued Bertrande, "they gave me to understand that I would do well to ask your forgiveness, and to become reconciled to you before they pronounce judgment; so I asked and obtained leave to see you."