"Forward, Monsieur
le traite!"
I moved on, scarce remarking the fellow's roughness; my eyes were
still upon that face - the white, piteous face of Roxalanne. I
smiled reassurance and encouragement, but even as I smiled the
horror in her countenance seemed to increase. Then, as I passed on,
she vanished from my sight, and I was left to conjecture the motives
that had occasioned her return to Toulouse. Had the message that
Marsac would yesterday have conveyed to her caused her to retrace
her steps that she might be near me in my extremity; or had some
weightier reason influenced her return? Did she hope to undo some
of the evil she had done? Alas, poor child! If such were her hopes,
I sorely feared me they would prove very idle.
Of my trial I should say but little did not the exigencies of my
story render it necessary to say much. Even now, across the gap
of years, my gorge rises at the mockery which, in the King's name,
those gentlemen made of justice. I can allow for the troubled
conditions of the times, and I can realize how in cases of civil
disturbances and rebellion it may be expedient to deal summarily
with traitors, yet not all the allowances that I can think of
would suffice to condone the methods of that tribunal.
The trial was conducted in private by the Keeper of the Seals - a
lean, wizened individual, with an air as musty and dry as that of
the parchments among which he had spent his days. He was supported
by six judges, and on his right sat the King's Commissioner,
Monsieur de Chatellerault - the bruised condition of whose
countenance still advertised the fact that we had met but yesterday.
Pages:
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161