Cyrano by H. Bedford-Jones

Author:H. Bedford-Jones [Bedford-Jones, H.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: action and adventure
Publisher: Altus Press
Published: 2014-09-22T21:00:00+00:00

Chapter X

—GOES A RIDING.

THESE two days Cyrano spent delving about the ancient Mont like a veritable mole, reveling in its beauty, its solid grandeur, its ways and customs. He dined in the huge refectory where Henry II of England had sat at meat, while the silent brethren listened to the drone of the reader from the lectern. He visited the library with its painted domed ceiling, and saw the manuscripts collected here in the twelfth century, and ever increased with the years until Mont St. Michel became known as the “City of Books.”

With his lively curiosity, Cyrano neglected nothing, went everywhere, from the dungeons beneath the crypts to the treasury where the greatest treasure in all France was stored; and, it must be admitted, he paid due attention to the taverns and wine-shops down the single street.

He made friends with the monks, whom he respected, and he fraternized with the sullen guards, serfs from the abbey fiefs who were forced to this duty. Of Marianne he saw a little, and of Salignan he saw nothing until the second morning, when he encountered the marquis in the street of the town. Cyrano halted and saluted him.

“A moment, M. le Marquis!” he said gayly, when Salignan would have passed on. “Come, grant me but a moment and you’ll not regret it!”

Salignan eyed him sourly. “Well?” he rasped.

“Not at all well, monsieur,” said Cyrano, coming closer and lowering his voice. He spoke quietly, soberly, driving home his words. “You dislike me, heaven knows why—”

“I suspect you, monsieur,” said Salignan.

“Very good. There are others toward whom your suspicions might better be directed, then. Our friend Effiat, for one—how if I were to prove to you that he is in communication with certain of the Huguenot leaders?”

Salignan showed no surprise. “Then I should say that you were betraying him, monsieur. I know more than you think, my good Bergerac.”

With which Salignan bowed coldly and went his way, leaving Cyrano somewhat discomfited and a trifle startled. How much did the man know, indeed? Four of Salignan’s own servants, who looked like soldiers, had arrived and served the commandant in his quarters in the King’s Tower; except for these, Salignan seemed very much alone, treating Effiat with extremely cold courtesy and Prior Ratran with open contempt and disdain.

“The devil!” cogitated Cyrano. “I am afraid of that man; evidently he believes in doing his duty; and just what is his duty here?”

Later that morning, standing in the transept of the church with Marianne de Gisy and watching the ancient stained glass windows lighted into glory by the sun, he mentioned Salignan. She turned to him quickly.

“Ah, Cyrano—have you not guessed? Years ago when I was a girl he would have married me; and I think he is of the same mind to-day. He is a very proud man, a great soldier and no courtier; Richelieu trusts him implicitly. He dislikes you, has almost hated you from the first.”

“Come, then, we have answer enough!” and Cyrano laughed gayly. “He

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