At this the bastard roared, "Jarnac, dismount six of thy archers, and shoot me this white-livered cur dead where he stands - for an example."The young Count de Jarnac, second in command, gave the order, and the men dismounted to execute it"Strip him naked," said the bastard, in the cold tone of military business, "and put his arms and accoutrements on the spare mule We'll maybe find some clown worthier to wear them,"Denys groaned aloud, "Am I to be shamed as well as slain?""Oh, nay! nay! nay!" cried Gerard, awaking from the stupor into which this thunderbolt of tyranny had thrown him."He shall go with you on the instant.I'd liever part with him for ever than see a hair of his dear head harmed Oh, sir, oh, my lord, give a poor boy but a minute to bid his only friend farewell! he will go with you.I swear he shall go with you."The stern leader nodded a cold contemptuous assent."Thou, Jarnac, stay with them, and bring him on alive or dead.Forward!" And he resumed his march, followed by all the band but the young count and six archers, one of whom held the spare mule.
Denys and Gerard gazed at one another haggardly.Oh, what a look!
And after this mute interchange of anguish, they spoke hurriedly, for the moments were flying by.
"Thou goest to Holland: thou knowest where she bides.Tell her all.She will be kind to thee for my sake.""Oh, sorry tale that I shall carry her! For God's sake, go back to the 'Tete d'Or.' I am mad""Hush! Let me think: have I nought to say to thee, Denys? my head!
my head!"
"Ah! I have it.Make for the Rhine, Gerard! Strasbourg.'Tis but a step.And down the current to Rotterdam.Margaret is there: I go thither.I'll tell her thou art coming.We shall all be together.""My lads, haste ye, or you will get us into trouble," said the count firmly, but not harshly now.
"Oh, sir, one moment! one little moment!" panted Gerard.
"Cursed be the land I 'was born in! cursed be the race of man! and he that made them what they are!" screamed Denys.
"Hush, Denys, hush! blaspheme not! Oh, God forgive him, he wots not what he says.Be patient, Denys, be patient: though we meet no more on earth, let us meet in a better world, where no blasphemer may enter.To my heart, lost friend; for what are words now?" He held out his arms, and they locked one another in a close embrace.
They kissed one another again and again, speechless, and the tears rained down their cheeks And the Count Jarnac looked on amazed, but the rougher soldiers, to whom comrade was a sacred name, looked on with some pity in their hard faces.Then at a signal from Jarnac, with kind force and words of rude consolation, they almost lifted Denys on to the mule; and putting him in the middle of them, spurred after their leader.And Gerard ran wildly after (for the lane turned), to see the very last of him; and the last glimpse he caught, Denys was rocking to and fro on his mule, and tearing his hair out.But at this sight something rose in Gerard's throat so high, so high, he could run no more nor breathe, but gasped, and leaned against the snow-clad hedge, seizing it, and choking piteously.
The thorns ran into his hand.
After a bitter struggle he got his breath again; and now began to see his own misfortune.Yet not all at once to realize it, so sudden and numbing was the stroke.He staggered on, but scarce feeling or caring whither he was going; and every now and then he stopped, and his arms fell and his head sank on his chest, and he stood motionless: then he said to himself, "Can this thing be?
this must be a dream.'Tis scarce five minutes since we were so happy, walking handed, faring to Rome together, and we admired them and their gay banners and helmets oh hearts of hell!"All nature seemed to stare now as lonely as himself.Not a creature in sight.No colour but white.He, the ghost of his former self, wandered alone among the ghosts of trees, and fields, and hedges.Desolate! desolate! desolate! All was desolate.
