ON THE SANDS
A man, bearing in his arms the motionless form of a woman, paused later
that night in the shadow of a low stone hovel, near the lower gate of
the Mount. As he crouched beneath the thatch projecting like the rim
of an old hat above him his eyes, eager, fierce, studied the distance
he had yet to traverse from the end of the narrow alley, where he had
stopped, to the open entrance at the base of the rock to the sands.
The goal was not far; but a few moments would have sufficed to reach
it; only between him and the point he had so long been striving to
attain, an obstacle, or group of obstacles, intervened. Before a
bonfire of wreckage of stuff--furniture and household goods--several
ragged, dissolute fellows sat with bottles before them, drinking hard
and quarreling the while over a number of glittering gems, gold
snuff-boxes and trinkets of all kinds.
"This bit of ivory for the white stone!"
"Add the brooch!"
"Not I! Look at the picture! Her ladyship, perhaps!"
"They have not found her?"
"No; for all the searching! But she is somewhere; can't have escaped
from the Mount. And when the drabs and trulls lay hands on her!"
"Ay, when!" casting the dice.
The man, peering from the alley, hesitated no longer; behind sounded
the footsteps of others, and gathering his burden more firmly, he
strode boldly forth toward the group and the gate. At his approach,
their talk--a jargon of "thieves' Latin" that smacked more of the
cabarets of Paris than those of the coast--momentarily ceased; beneath
lowering brows, they stared hard.
"What have you there, comrade?" said one.
"Look and see!" answered the man in a rough tone.
"Poor booty! A woman!" quoted another with a harsh laugh. "You're
easily pleased. As if wenches were not plentiful enough on other
occasions, without wasting time on a night like this, when diamonds and
gold are to be had for the searching!"
"And silver plates and watches and rare liquors!" cried a third in
knaves' _argot_. "Every one, however, to his taste! An you prefer a
light-of-love to light such as these have," juggling with the gems,
"you but stamp yourself a fool."
"You're welcome to your opinion, my friend!" The man with the burden
spoke bruskly. "Good night!"
"Stay; why such haste? You seem not a bad fellow. Set the wench down.
We'll have sight of her, and, perhaps," with coarse expletives, "if
she's a pretty face, and a taste for this fiery liquor the old monks
laid down, we'll find a gewgaw or two to her liking!"
But the man made no answer; was about to pass on, when the speaker
noticed for the first time the woman's hand, white and small, hanging
limply. "What's this? More jewels?" His exclamation was caught up by
the others. "Not so fast, comrade! This puts a different face to the
matter. Set down the booty, and," springing to his feet, "we'll see
what it's worth."
"I'll not stop!" The man looked at him steadily. "On the Mount is, or
should be, plenty for all! Go seek for yourself!"
"_Pardi_!" softly. "Here's one dares speak his mind!"
"I speak plainly," in a tone of authority, "and you would do well to
heed!"
"Perhaps," interposing. "What say you, comrades?"
Evil smiles illumined evil faces; they, who had just been on the point
of blows among themselves, now regarded one another with common
understanding. One weighed tentatively that delicate weapon, a
spontoon; a second stroked his halberd, as liking to feel the
smoothness of the shaft, while a third reached for a gleaming "Folard's
Partizan." And in the glare of the fire every implement showed sign it
had been used that night. The point of the spontoon was as steel
crusted o'er; the ax of the halberd might have come from a _boucherie_;
the blade of the "Partizan" resembled a great leaf at autumn-time.
This last wavered perilously near the unconscious burden; had the man
made a movement to resist, would have struck; but the black eyes, only,
combated--held the blood-shot ones. Though not for long; again the
weapon seemed about to dart forth; the man about to hurl himself and
his burden desperately aside, when, from above, came the sound of
hoarse laughing and singing, and simultaneously a number of peasants,
Bretons by their dress, burst into view.
"Eh, cockatoo, what now!"
Many of these new-comers were hurt; few free from cuts; but none
thought of stanching their wounds. Their principal concern seemed for
articles they carried--heavy, light; valuable, paltry--spoils from the
high! Two staggered beneath a great chest stamped with the arms of the
Mount and its motto, and appeared anxious to hurry--perchance toward
the forest on the shore where they might bury their treasure. Others
had in their arms imposing pieces of silver; vases and a massive
_surtout de table_ that had once belonged to the Cardinal Dubois. A
woman, gaunt, toothless, wore a voluminous bonnet _a l'Argus_, left at
the Mount by one of the ladies of the court; and waved before her a
fan, set with jewels. She it was who called out:
"Eh, cockatoo!" shrilly. "Who would you be killing?"
"A selfish fellow that refuses to share!" answered he of the halberd,
as if little pleased at the interruption.
"Refuses to share, does he?" she repeated, and, swaggering down, peered
forward; only to start back. "The Black Seigneur!"
"The Black Seigneur!"
Those who accompanied her--a rough rabble from field and forest--gazed,
not without surprise, or uncouth admiration, at one whose name and fame
were well-known on that northern coast; but these evidences of rough
approval were not shared by the alien rogues. On my lady's finger the
gem still sparkled: held their eyes like a lure. Black Seigneur, or
not, they muttered sullenly, what knew they of her he had with him;
whose hand was not that of cinder-wench or scullery maid? Let them
look at her face! She might be a great lady--she might even be the
Governor's daughter herself!
"The Governor's daughter!" All, alike, caught at the word.
"An if she were!" fiercely the Black Seigneur confronted them.
While, hesitating, they sought for a reply, quickly he went on. Who
had a better right to her? The Black Seigneur! The Lady Elise!
Harshly he laughed. Was it not fair spoil? His Excellency's enemy;
his Excellency's daughter. Did they think treasure sweeter than
revenge? Let them try to rob him of it! As for the ring?
Contemptuously he took it from my lady's hand; threw it among them.
A few scrambled, others were still for finishing the tragedy then. The
people _versus_ the lords and their spawn. "Kill at once!" the
injunction had gone forth from Paris.
As he spoke, one of the fiercest put out his hand; touched my lady,
when the fingers of the Black Seigneur gripped hard his throat; hurled
him so violently back, he lay still. Companions sprang to his aid;
certain of the peasants interfered.
"Let him alone!"
"He speaks fair!"
"Bah! To-night are all equal."
"Your Black Seigneur no better than others!"
"You lie!" In a high tone the woman with the great lady's hat broke
in. "At them, my chickens! Beat well these Paris rogues, who come
only for the picking!"
"Yes; beat them well!"
But the runagates of the great city were not of a kind to submit
lightly; curses and blows were exchanged; knives gleamed and swords
flashed. Amid a scene of confusion, the cause of it stayed not to
witness the outcome; running down the sloping way, soon found himself
on the sands; then keeping to the shadows, passed around the corner of
the wall.
Here, for the time concealed was he safe; none followed, and, leaning
against the damp blocks of masonry, breathing hard, as a man weak from
fatigue, loss of blood, he sought to recover his strength. It returned
only too slowly; the passing lassitude annoyed him; for the moment he
forgot he had but recently come from the dungeon and the hardships that
sap elasticity and vigor. He was impatient to move on; looked at my
lady--and a sudden fear smote him! How white she appeared! Had she--
His hand trembled at her heart; a blank dismay overcame him; then joy--
At that instant he thought not of the gulf between them; was conscious
only he held her--slender, beautiful--in his arms; that she seemed all
his own, with her breath on his cheek, her soft lips so close. Above
sounded the madness of the night; the crackling of flames; the
intemperate voices! In the angle of the wall, with darkness a blanket
around them, he pushed back the hair from her clear brow, bent over,
closer--suddenly straightened.
"_Pardi_!" he muttered, a flush on his face. "Am I, then, like the
others--pillagers, thieves?"
Several moments he yet stood, breathing deep; then, starting away, set
himself to the task of crossing the vast stretch of beach between the
Mount and the distant lights of a ship.
The sandy plain had never seemed so interminable; before him, his
shadow and that of my lady danced ever illusively away; behind, the
great rock gave forth a hundred shooting flames, while, as emblematic
of the demolition of so much that was beautiful, higher than saint with
helpless sword on cathedral top, a cloud of smoke belched up; waved
sidewise like a monstrous funeral plume. A symbol, it seemed to fill
the sky; to move and nod and flaunt its ominous blackness from this
majestic outpost of the land. Walking in a vivid crimson glow, the
Black Seigneur gazed only ahead, where now, on that monotonous desert,
the rim of the sea on a sudden obtruded. As he advanced, sparkles red
as rubies--laughing lights--leaped in the air; at the same time a
seething murmur broke upon the stillness.
Toward those leaping bright points and the source of that deep-sounding
cadence, the young man stumbled forward more rapidly, less cautiously,
also, it may be; for while he was yet some distance from the water's
rim, his feet fell on sand that gave way beneath them. He would have
sprung back, but felt himself sinking; strove to get out, only to
settle the deeper! The edge of the _lise_, with safety beyond, well he
could see, where the satin-like smoothness of the treacherous slough!
merged into a welcome silk-like shimmering of the trustworthy sands.
That verge, however, was remote; out of reach of effort of his to
attain; his very endeavors caused him to become the more firmly
imbedded. Had he cast my lady aside, possibly could he have extricated
himself; but with her, an additional weight, weighing him down--
Loudly he called out; only the sea answered. Now were the clinging
particles at his waist; he lifted my lady higher; clear of them! Once
more raised his voice--this time not in vain!
"_Mon capitaine_! Where are you?"
"Here!"
"We don't see you."
"You won't soon, unless--"
The end of a line struck the sand.
The night had almost passed; its last black hour, like a pall, lay over
the sea, where, far from the Mount, a ship swayed and tossed. In the
narrow confines of her master's cabin, the faint glimmering of a lamp
revealed a man bending over a paper, yellow and worn; the lines so
faint and delicate, they seemed almost to escape him!
"How strange, after all these years, the sight of your
handwriting!--and now, to be writing you! Yet is it meet--to say
farewell! For that which you have heard, _mon ami_, is true. I am
going to die. You say, you heard I was not well; I answer what really
you heard; the question, _mon ami_, beneath your words! ... And,
dying, it is well with me. I have wronged no soul on earth--except
you, my friend, and you forgive me.... I had hoped the years would
efface that old memory. You say they have not.... It is wise you are
going away."
The reader paused; listened to the sea; the moaning and sighing, like
voices on the wings of the storm.
"You speak in your letter about 'trickery'--used to estrange us! Think
no more of it, I beg you. What is past, is gone--as I, part of that
past, when we were boy and girl together--soon shall be. And come not
near the Mount. There can be no meeting for us on earth. I send you
my adieu from afar.... It is only a shadow that speaks ... _mon ami_."