"I am unlikely to forget it," Mercier answered, "and poor Pigou will go crippled to the end of his days."
"He has suffered in a good cause," said Father Bertrand. "Then came the death of Maurice. The way was open to Count Felix; all my schemes had come suddenly to the ground. This Roger Herrick was the only hope. He had a claim—a good one. The success of my scheme was only too complete. It is true rebellion smoulders in Vayenne, but it is also true that we have raised a strong man to the throne, a worthy successor to the old Duke. Left alone, he is capable of turning his enemies into friends, of strengthening Montvilliers, of annulling all my work of years. That Mademoiselle de Liancourt now plays into our hands, that de Bornais is for the Church before all else, these things constitute our last hope. Duke Roger has not had time to win the hearts of the people, but he will fight to the end. We strike without delay, Mercier; the hour is at hand."
Mercier did not answer.
"Does your silence accuse me?" said the priest, rising and standing by the table, and the inspiration of enthusiasm was in his face. "It is naught to me who rules, so that the Church triumphs. Am I seeking rewards for myself? Would not high place be mine if I threw in my lot with the Duke? It is along that road that riches and honor await me; yet I choose the other, which may lead by a quick descent to death. There is nothing of self in this—nothing, nothing."
"My silence did not accuse you," said Mercier. "I have served you, Father Bertrand, and shall serve you. If I take reward for my services that does not alter your position. I am a worldly man. After my fashion I am honest, too, for I do not pretend that self does not enter into the bargain. I only claim to keep my word to those to whom it is given. I am satisfied, father. It has paid me well."
"We have worked together so long, Mercier, that, almost unconsciously, I have been justifying my actions to you," said Father Bertrand, with a smile. "For all my boasting I suppose, like others, I do care something for what men—for what my friends think of me. Something of the world must cling to the cassock of even the saintliest priest, and Heaven knows, I claim no such exalted rank for myself. For you, Mercier, there are greater rewards in store. These papers are ready. At dawn to-morrow, Mercier, you must leave Vayenne, and make all speed for the frontier. There is no suspicion that we are not heart and soul with the Duke. There will be no difficulty at the gates. But every moment counts, Mercier. Already the Duke has cleverly appealed to the nobles who will not submit. The country is in danger of invasion, he has told them, and has urged that internal enmity should be set aside until the common foe is driven back. Afterward he has pledged himself to retain the throne only at the call of three-fourths of the nation. Oh, he is a man, a great man. I have not dared to tell de Bornais this; he is too much fascinated with him as it is. To return successful would win for Duke Roger the applause of the whole nation, so there is no time to lose. Start at dawn, Mercier, at dawn."
"I shall not fail." And as Mercier went out, Father Bertrand lay back in his chair pale and exhausted. When the dawn crept into the room it found him sleeping there.