CHAPTER XXV

The confrontations of the prisoners with one another and the administration of questions, based upon the answers they had made to their earlier interrogations, were over at last. There remained now but one thing farther to be done, one further suffering to be endured by the unhappy conspirators ere their doom, which was certain, was pronounced; namely, to endeavour to extract their confessions from them by torture. This system, still in general use in France and still to remain so for another century, was regarded as the one and only final opportunity of extracting from criminals--real or suspected--some confession which should justify their judges in sentencing them to death. For, if from those criminals who were innocent there could be wrung the slightest word that even sounded like an acknowledgment of guilt, the judges could condemn them with a sound conscience; while, even if the really criminal had already confessed their guilt, the application of torture was still generally applied in the hopes that, thereby, some actual or imaginary accomplices might be implicated.

La Reynie, determined to extort confessions from the four prisoners who had appeared before their judges at the Arsenal, had already decided by midnight that all should be submitted to the "question." This resolve, however, was negatived by the majority of those judges.

De Beaurepaire was, they said, too high in position to be treated with such indignity; he had been too closely allied with the King, both as friend and exalted subject as well as bearer of great offices, to be submitted to such degradation; and they had made up their minds that he was guilty and must die. Therefore he was exempted from torture.

To their honour, the same exemption was granted to Emérance on the plea that she was a woman and was also to die.

"It is a noble resolution," exclaimed the Père Bourdaloue, who had been deputed to discover by exhortation the truth and extent of their guilt, if possible. "A noble one. She is a woman. If, like another, she has sinned, so, also, she has loved and suffered."

From the two others, however, Fleur de Mai and Van den Enden, nothing could be obtained in any shape or form at the trial except denials of every statement made. Therefore both, instead of Van den Enden alone, were now to be submitted to the torture.

Yet, once again, as Van den Enden was led into the room where he was to submit to the trial of the Wedge or Coin as it was termed, Bourdaloue made a final attempt not only to extract some admission from him but also, from Christian charity, to spare so old a man unnecessary pain.

"My son," he said, "reflect. Why force your judges to obtain by torture that which may be told freely, since you are surely doomed. Remember, there is another world to which you are hastening; a God whom you have outraged----"

"There is no other world," Van den Enden snarled. "There is no God. I am a materialist. I believe in nothing but that which is tangible, that which I can see and recognise. And I have nothing to confess more than I have told. As for your tortures, it is the fear of them that alone terrifies."

Bravely as the old atheist spoke, he was, however, now to learn that it is sometimes far better to rely less upon oneself and more upon a Superior Power.

The torture of the Coin did not vary much in method from that which, at the same period, was known in the British Islands as the "Boot." Brodequins, or long half-riding boots, were placed upon the feet and legs of those who were to be put to the question. Into these, which were sometimes made of wood and sometimes, but not often, of hardened pigskin almost as tough and firm as wood, the wedges or coins were thrust, or hammered, one by one according to the stubborn refusals of the prisoners to reply to the questions put to them.

To the room where he was to be subjected to this inquisition, Van den Enden was led. There were present to administer the questions two of the Councillors of State, De Pomereu and Lefèvre de Caumartin, each of whom had taken part as judges in the last confrontation of the prisoners, as well as the Père Bourdaloue who still hoped to either obtain some amelioration of his sufferings for the wretched man, or to be able to administer religious consolation to him should he perish under the torture. To apply the torture there were the executioner's assistants.

"You have not told all the truth," De Pomereu said, when the brodequins had been placed on the legs and feet of Van den Enden and one of the torturers stood by, a wedge in one hand and a hammer in the other. "What more have you to tell?"

"Nothing. You may kill me if you will. I am innocent."

At a sign from De Pomereu the assistant struck in the first wedge, at which Van den Enden winced but said again: "I am innocent."

A second wedge was now inserted and the wretched man emitted a slight groan, but only exclaimed: "I know nothing. Nothing. Mercy!"

A third, a fourth, a fifth, a sixth were rapidly inserted next, and Van den Enden cried out: "I am dying. Kill me at once."

"Answer truly," exclaimed De Pomereu. "Did the Prince say, 'If we could only have the King's person we should win'?"

"No. I did not hear it. Yes!" Van den Enden screamed suddenly, as now other wedges were rapidly hammered in between the boots and his legs until the ninth--which was much larger than the previous ones--was inserted. "Yes. He said so. I heard him."

"Did he say, 'When Quillebeuf is taken we will proceed to Versailles and seize upon the King's person'?"

"No. Never. Ah! mercy! mercy! mercy!" for now the last wedge of all--which was composed of several ordinary wedges bound together--was being hammered into his crushed and bleeding leg. "Mercy. Oh! my God! have mercy on me."

"Stop," exclaimed the Père Bourdaloue advancing, his Crucifix in his hands. "Stop! He has confessed something far better than that which you seek to extort from him. Van den Enden," he said, approaching the old man whose eyes were now so turned up in his head that nothing but the whites were visible, while his face was a mass of perspiration, "you are no atheist, praised be God above. You term yourself one, yet in your hour of tribulation you call upon the God you pretend to deny. Van den Enden, look upon this symbol, 'tis the symbol of One who suffered more than you can ever suffer, yet Who was pure and holy; Who was God incarnate. Kiss it, Van den Enden. Acknowledge at last the error of your ways."

"No! no!" groaned the victim, half delirious from pain. "No! no! I believe nothing. I--I--ah! Ask Spinosa. And--and--I was born a Jew."

"So," said Bourdaloue, "was He."

"Mercy! Mercy!"

"He must reply," De Pomereu said in answer to a look of appeal from the priest; "or the wedges must be struck deeper. Speak, Van den Enden," he continued. "Did De Beaurepaire say he would possess himself of the King's sacred person?"

"No. Ah!" and again he called on the Deity as the torturer struck at the great wedge. "Ah! Ah! Yes. Yes. Mercy. I--I--am dying. Save me."

"Remove him," De Pomereu ordered, "and bring in the other. La Preaux."

When, however, this adventurer was subjected to similar treatment to that which Van den Enden had endured nothing was to be obtained from him.

Whether, knowing that death was certain in any case, or determined that, as he had lived without fear--with one exception, namely his cowardice when thinking he was about to be slain by Humphrey West--so he would die, it is at least certain that he was bold enough to bear the torture without uttering one word or one cry. By some superhuman, perhaps by some devilish, courage, he forced himself to refrain from emitting any sound when the torture was applied, and, though his great coarse lips were horribly thrust out and pursed up by the agony he was suffering, no moan issued from them. To all questions put to him by De Pomereu and De Caumartin he returned but one answer, "I am innocent of any knowledge of the plot," and nothing more could be extorted from him.

An hour later, De Beaurepaire accompanied by Bourdaloue and another priest, Le Père Talon, was led into the prison chapel in which were already Van den Enden and La Preaux, or Fleur de Mai. The former had been supported to this spot between two guards; the latter, indomitable as ever, had managed to limp from his cell to the chapel. Emérance was not there.

"To your knees," whispered the priests to the unhappy conspirators. "To your knees and hear the sentences passed on you."

"This," said the Greffier of the Judges when all were kneeling, Van den Enden being assisted and held up between the two guards, "is the decree of the High Court of his Majesty the King. You, Louis, Chevalier and Prince de Beaurepaire, late Colonel of all his Majesty's Guards and Grand Veneur of France, are adjudged guilty of high treason and lèse-majeste. You, Francois Affinius van den Enden, are adjudged guilty of the same. You, La Preaux, falsely styling yourself Chevalier and known to many under an assumed name, are adjudged guilty of the same. The woman Louise de Belleau de Cortonne, widow of Jacques de Mallorties, Seigneur de Villers and Boudéville, styling herself falsely Emérance, Marquise de Villiers-Bordéville, is found guilty of the same."

"The Lord's will be done," said the two priests solemnly.

"For you, Louis de Beaurepaire, Prince et Chevalier," continued the Greffier, "the sentence is that you be decapitated to-morrow at three of the afternoon in front of this, his Majesty's fortress of the Bastille. If your body is claimed by your family it will be given up for burial. At that burial no insignia of your offices of Colonel of his Majesty's Guards and Grand Veneur may be placed upon your bier, or coffin, nor may your Chevalier's sword and fourreau en croix be so placed. All your goods are confiscated to the King."

"God save the King!" exclaimed De Beaurepaire.

"For you, La Preaux," continued the Greffier, "the sentence is that you be decapitated at the same time and place as the Prince Louis de Beaurepaire, and in company with him and the woman Louise de Belleau de Cortonne."

"Ah," murmured De Beaurepaire. "Ah! Emérance and I shall be happy at last. We dreamt of a union. At last we shall be united."

"I thank my judges and the King--though they have misjudged me--for recognising my claims to gentle blood," exclaimed Fleur de Mai.

"For you, Van den Enden," again went on the Greffier, "the sentence is that you be hanged by the neck on a gibbet near unto the scaffold on which your companions in guilt must die. And your goods, like the goods of those companions, are confiscated to the King. Amen."

"I shall not leave you till the end," Bourdaloue whispered in De Beaurepaire's ears as the prisoners were now escorted back to their cells. "My son, may God have mercy on you."

"I pray so, holy father. He knows I have need of mercy."

"As have all of us. Come, my son, come."

At the same hour, almost at the same moment, a different scene, though one which owed its existence to the trial now concluded, was being enacted at St. Germain, where the Court now was.

Seated in his chair, advanced three feet from the brilliant circle that surrounded him, Le Roi Soleil witnessed the representation of Cinna, that superb tragedy which Corneille--stung by the criticisms on Le Cid of those who were deemed his rivals, and doubly stung by the criticisms of those who could by no possibility whatever possess the right of deeming themselves his rivals--had determined should outvie the former masterpiece. By connivance with those who fondly hoped that this play--written immediately after a preceding Norman Rebellion had been crushed--might soften the King's heart towards his whilom companion, it had been selected by the chamberlains for that evening's representation. Never, perhaps, had a greater tribute been paid to genius than this now paid to the dramatist!

Throughout the play, Louis had sat unmoved in his chair, though all present remarked that no word or action of the players was lost by him.

But when, at the end, Augustus C?sar, having, discovered the treachery of Cinna, resolved to pardon the latter and thus win back his fidelity, the King was observed to move restlessly.

As Monvel, the actor who played the part of C?sar, speaking with deep impressiveness uttered the superb speech commencing:--

Soyons amis, Cinna.
Tu trahis mes bienfaits, je les veux redoubler.
Je t'en avois comblé, je t'en veux accabler,

Louis' hand was raised to his head and it seemed as though he swiftly brushed away some tears that had sprung to his eyes.

While, a moment later, those seated next to him heard him, or thought they heard him, mutter the words:--

"For the treachery to myself I might have pardoned him. For that against France, for making a pact with her enemies, I can never pardon him."