"You are high-priced, Mr. Scarlett," he observed.
"Oh, very," I said, with that offensive, swaggering menace in my
voice which is peculiar to the weak criminal the world over.
So I asserted myself and scowled at him and told him I was no fool and
taunted him with my importance to his schemes and said I was not born
yesterday, and that if Paris was to be divided I knew what part I
wanted and meant to stand no nonsense from him or anybody.
All of which justified the opinion he had already formed of me, and
justified something else, too--his faith in his own eloquence, logic,
and powers of persuasion. Not that I meant to make his mistake and
undervalue him; he was an intelligent, capable, remarkable
criminal--with the one failing--an overconfident contempt of _all_
men.
"There is one thing I want to ask you," said I. "Why do you desire
to go to Paradise?"
He did not answer me at once, and I studied his passionless profile as
he gazed out of the window.
"Well," he said, slowly, "I shall not tell you."
"Why not?" I demanded.
"--But I'll say this," he continued. "I want you to come to Paradise
with me and that fool of a woman. I want you to report to your
government that you are watching the house in Paradise, and that you
are hoping to catch me there."
"How can I do that?" I asked. "As soon as the government catches the
Countess de Vassart she will be sent across the frontier."
"Not if you inform your government that you desire to use her and the
others as a bait to draw me to Paradise."
"Oh, that's it, is it?" I asked, thoughtfully.
"Yes," said Buckhurst, "that's it."
"And you do not desire to inform me why you are going to stay in
Paradise?"
"Don't you think you'll be clever enough to find out?" he asked, with
a sneer.
I did think so; more than that, I let him see that I thought so, and
he was contented with my conceit.
"One thing more," I said, blustering a little, "I want to know
whether you mean any harm to that innocent girl?"
"Who? The Countess? What do you mean? Harm her? Do you think I waste
my thoughts on that little fool? She is not a factor in
anything--except that just now I'm using her and mean to use her house
in Paradise."
"Haven't you stripped her of every cent she has?" I asked. "What do
you want of her now?" And I added something about respect due to
women.
"Oh yes, of course," he said, with a vague glance at the street
below. "You need not worry; nobody's going to hurt her--" He suddenly
shifted his eyes to me. "You haven't taken a fancy to her, have
you?" he asked, in faint disgust.
I saw that he thought me weak enough for any sentiment, even a noble
one.
"If you think it pays," he muttered, "marry her and beat her, for
all I care; but don't play loose with me, my friend; as a plain matter
of business it won't pay you."
"Is that a threat?" I asked, in the bullying tone of a born coward.
"No, not a threat, a plain matter of profit and loss, a simple
business proposition. For, suppose you betray me--and, by a miracle,
live to boast of it? What is your reward? A colonelcy in the Military
Police with a few thousand francs salary, and, in your old age, a
pension which might permit you to eat meat twice a week. Against that,
balance what I offer--free play in a helpless city, and no one to
hinder you from salting away as many millions as you can carry off!"
Presently I said, weakly, "And what, once more, is the service you
ask of me?"
"I ask you to notify the government that you are watching Paradise,
that you do not arrest the Countess and Dr. Delmont because you desire
to use them as a bait to catch me."
"Is that all?"
"That is all. We will start for Paris together; I shall leave you
before we get there. But I'll see you later in Paradise."
"You refuse to tell me why you wish to stay at the house in
Paradise?"
"Yes,... I refuse. And, by-the-way, the Countess is to think that I
have presented myself in Paris and that the government has pardoned
me."
"You are willing to believe that I will not have you arrested?"
"I don't ask you to promise. If you are fool enough to try it--try
it! But I'm not going to give you the chance in Paris--only in
Paradise."
"You don't require my word of honor?"
"Word of--what? Well--no;... it's a form I can dispense with."
"But how can you protect yourself?"
"If all the protection I had was a 'word of honor,' I'd be in a
different business, my friend."
"And you are willing to risk me, and you are perfectly capable of
taking care of yourself?"
"I think so," he said, quietly.
"Trusting to my common-sense as a business man not to be fool enough
to cut my own throat by cutting yours?" I persisted.
"Exactly, and trusting to a few other circumstances, the details of
which I beg permission to keep to myself," he said, with a faint
sneer.
He rose and walked to the window; at the same moment I heard the sound
of wheels below.
"I believe that is our carriage," he said. "Are you ready to start,
Mr. Scarlett?"
"Now?" I exclaimed.
"Why not? I'm not in the habit of dawdling over anything. Come, sir,
there is nothing very serious the matter with you, is there?"
I said nothing; he knew, of course, the exact state of the wound I had
received, that the superficial injury was of no account, that the
shock had left me sound as a silver franc though a trifle weak in the
hips and knees.
"Is the Countess de Vassart to go with us?" I asked, trying to find a
reason for these events which were succeeding one another too quickly
to suit me.
He gave me an absent-minded nod; a moment later the Countess entered.
She had mended her black crêpe gown where I tore it when I hung in
the shadow of death under the battlements of La Trappe. She wore black
gloves, a trifle shabby, and carried a worn satchel in her hands.
Buckhurst aided me to rise, the Countess threw my hussar jacket over
my shoulders and buttoned it; I felt the touch of her cool, little
fingers on my hot, unshaved throat.
"I congratulate you on your convalescence," she said, in a low voice.
"Lean on me, monsieur."
My head swam; hips and knees were without strength; she aided me down
the stairway and out into the pale sunshine, where stood the same
mud-splashed, rusty vehicle which had brought us hither from La
Trappe.
The Countess had only a satchel and a valise; Buckhurst's luggage
comprised a long, flat, steel-bound box, a satchel, and a parcel. I
had nothing. My baggage, which I had left in Morsbronn, had without
doubt been confiscated long since; my field-glasses, sabre, and
revolver were gone; I had only what clothes I was wearing--a dirty,
ragged, gray-blue flannel shirt, my muddy jacket, scarlet
riding-breeches, and officer's boots. But in one of the hip-pockets of
my breeches I carried a fortune in diamonds.
As I stood beside the carriage, wondering how I was going to get in, I
felt an arm slip under my neck and another slide gently under my
knees, and Buckhurst lifted me. Beneath the loose, gray coat-sleeves
his bent arms were rigid as steel; his supple frame straightened; he
moved a step forward and laid me on the shabby cushions.
The Countess looked at me, turned and glanced up at her
smoke-blackened house, where a dozen Prussian soldiers leaned from the
lower windows smoking their long porcelain pipes and the provost
marshal stood in the doorway, helmeted, spurred, immaculate from
golden cheek-guard to the glittering tip of his silver scabbard. An
Uhlan, dismounted, stood on guard below the steps, his lance at a
"present," the black-and-white swallow-tailed pennon drooping from
the steel point.
The Countess bent her pretty head under its small black hat; the
provost's white-gloved hand flew to his helmet peak.
"Fear nothing, madame," he said, pompously. "Your house and its
contents are safe until you return. This village is now German soil."
The Countess looked at him steadily, gravely.
"I thank you, monsieur, but frontiers are not changed in a day."
But she was mistaken. Alsace henceforth must be written Elsass, and
the devastated province called Lothringen was never again to be
written Lorraine.
The Countess stepped into the carriage and took her place beside me;
Buckhurst followed, seating himself opposite us, and the Alsatian
driver mounted to the box.
"Your safe-conduct carries you to the French outposts at Saverne,"
said the provost, dryly. "If there are no longer French outposts at
Saverne, you may demand a visé for your pass and continue south to
Strasbourg."
Buckhurst half turned towards the driver. "Allez," he said, quietly,
and the two gaunt horses moved on.
There was a chill in the white sunshine--the first touch of autumn.
Not a trace of the summer's balm remained in the air; every tree on
the mountain outlines stood out sharp-cut in the crystalline light;
the swift little streams that followed the road ran clear above
autumn-brown pebbles and golden sands.
Distant beachwoods were turning yellow; yellow gorse lay like patches
of sunshine on the foot-hills; oceans of yellow grain belted the
terraced vineyards. Here and there long, velvety, black strips cut the
green and gold, the trail of fire which had scarred the grain belts;
here and there pillars of smoke floated, dominating blue woodlands,
where the flames of exploding shells had set the forest afire.
Already from the plateau I could see a streak of silver reflecting the
intense blue sky--the Rhine, upon whose westward cliffs France had
mounted guard but yesterday.
And now the Rhine was lost, and the vast granite bastions of the
Vosges looked out upon a sea of German forests. Above the Col du
Pigeonnier the semaphore still glistened, but its signals now
travelled eastward, and strange flags fluttered on its invisible
halliards. And every bridge was guarded by helmeted men who halted us,
and every tunnel was barred by mounted Uhlans who crossed their lances
to the ominous shout: "Wer da? On ne basse bas!" The Vosges were
literally crawling with armed men!
Driving slowly along the base of the hills, I had glimpses of rocky
defiles which pierced the mountain wall; and through every defile
poured infantry and artillery in unbroken columns, and over every
mountain pass streamed endless files of horsemen. Railroad tunnels
were choked with slowly moving trains piled high with artillery;
viaducts glistened with helmets all moving westward; every hillock,
every crag, every height had its group of tiny dark dots or its
solitary Uhlan.
Very far away I heard cannon--so far away that the hum of the
cannonade was no louder than the panting of our horses on the white
hill-road, and I could hear it only when the carriage stopped at
intervals.
"Do we take the railroad at Saverne?" I asked at last. "Is there a
railroad there?"
[Illustration: "EVERY BRIDGE WAS GUARDED"]
Buckhurst looked up at me. "It is rather strange that a French
officer should not know the railroads in his own country," he said.
I was silent. I was not the only officer whose shame was his
ignorance of the country he had sworn to defend. Long before the
war broke out, every German regimental officer, commissioned and
non-commissioned, carried a better map of France than could be
found in France itself. And the French government had issued to us
a few wretched charts of Germany, badly printed, full of gross
errors, one or two maps to a regiment, and a few scattered about
among the corps headquarters--among officers who did not even know the
general topography of their own side of the Rhine.
"Is there a railroad at Saverne?" I repeated, sullenly.
"You will take a train at Strasbourg," replied Buckhurst.
"And then?"
"And then you go to Avricourt," he said. "I suppose at least you
know where that is?"
"It is on the route to Paris," said I, keeping my temper. "Are we
going direct to Paris?"
"Madame de Vassart desires to go there," he said, glancing at her
with a sort of sneaking deference which he now assumed in her
presence.
"It is true," said the Countess, turning to me. "I wish to rest for
a little while before I go to Point Paradise. I am curiously tired of
poverty, Monsieur Scarlett," she added, and held out her shabby gloves
with a gesture of despair; "I am reduced to very little--I have
scarcely anything left,... and I am weak enough to long for the scent
of the winter violets on the boulevards."
With a faint smile she touched the bright hair above her brow, where
the wind had flung a gleaming tendril over her black veil.
As I looked at her, I marvelled that she had found it possible to
forsake all that was fair and lovely in life, to dare ignore caste, to
deliberately face ridicule and insult and the scornful anger of her
own kind, for the sake of the filthy scum festering in the sinkholes
of the world.
There are brave priests who go among lepers, there are brave
missionaries who dispute with the devil over the souls of half-apes in
the Dark Continent. Under the Cross they do the duty they were bred
to.
But she was bred to other things. Her lungs were never made to breathe
the polluted atmosphere of the proletariat, yelping and slavering in
their kennels; her strait young soul was never born for communion with
the crooked souls of social pariahs, with the stunted and warped
intelligence of fanatics, with the crippled but fierce minds which
dominated the Internationale.
Not that such contact could ever taint her; but it might break her
heart one day.
"You will think me very weak and cowardly to seek shelter and comfort
at such a time," she said, raising her gray eyes to me. "But I feel
as though all my strength had slipped away from me. I mean to go back
to my work; I only need a few days of quiet among familiar
scenes--pleasant scenes that I knew when I was young. I think that if
I could only see a single care-free face--only one among all those
who--who once seemed to love me--"
She turned her head quickly and stared out at the tall pines which
fringed the dusty road.
Buckhurst blinked at her.
* * * * *
It was late in the afternoon when the last Prussian outpost hailed us.
I had been asleep for hours, but was awakened by the clatter of
horses, and I opened my eyes to see a dozen Uhlans come cantering up
and surround our carriage.
After a long discussion with Buckhurst and a rigid scrutiny of our
permit to pass the lines, the slim officer in command viséd the order.
One of the troopers tied a white handkerchief to his lance-tip,
wheeled his wiry horse, and, followed by a trumpeter, trotted off
ahead of us. Our carriage creaked after them, slowly moving to the
summit of a hill over which the road rose.
Presently, very far away on the gray-green hill-side, I saw a bit of
white move. The Uhlan flourished his lance from which the handkerchief
fluttered; the trumpeter set his trumpet to his lips and blew the
parley.
One minute, two, three, ten passed. Then, distant galloping sounded
along the road, nearer, nearer; three horsemen suddenly wheeled into
view ahead--French dragoons, advancing at a solid gallop. The Uhlan
with the flag spurred forward to meet them, saluted, wheeled his
horse, and came back.
Paid mercenary that I was, my heart began to beat very fast at sight
of those French troopers with their steel helmets bound with
leopard-hide and their horsehair plumes whipping the breeze, and their
sun-bronzed, alert faces and pleasant eyes. I had had enough of the
supercilious, near-sighted eyes of the Teuton.
As for the young Countess, she sat there smiling, while the clumsy
dragoons came rattling up, beaming at my red riding-breeches, and all
saluting the Countess with a cheerful yet respectful swagger that
touched me deeply as I noted the lines of hunger in their lean jaws.
And now the brief ceremony was over and our rusty vehicle moved off
down the hill, while the Uhlans turned bridle and clattered off,
scattering showers of muddy gravel in the rising wind.
The remains of our luncheon lay in a basket under our seat--plenty of
bread and beef, and nearly a quart of red wine.
"Call the escort--they are starving," I said to Buckhurst.
"I think not," he said, coolly. "I may eat again."
"Call the escort!" I repeated, sharply.
Buckhurst looked up at me in silence, then glanced warily at the
Countess.
A few moments later the gaunt dragoons were munching dry bread as they
rode, passing the bottle from saddle to saddle.
We were ascending another hill; the Countess, anxious to stretch her
limbs, had descended to the road, and now walked ahead, one hand
holding her hat, which the ever-freshening wind threatened.
Buckhurst bent towards me and said: "My friend, your suggestion that
we deprive ourselves to feed those cavalrymen was a trifle peremptory
in tone. I am wondering how much your tone will change when we reach
Paris."
"You will see," said I.
"Oh, of course I'll see," he said,... "and so will you."
"I thought you had means to protect yourself," I observed.
"I have. Besides, I think you would rather keep those diamonds than
give them up for the pleasure of playing me false."
I laughed in a mean manner, which reassured him. "Look here," said I,
"if I were to make trouble for you in Paris I'd be the most besotted
fool in France, and you know it."
He nodded.
And so I should have been. For there was something vastly more
important to do than to arrest John Buckhurst for theft; and before I
suffered a hair of his sleek, gray head to come to harm I'd have hung
myself for a hopeless idiot. Oh no; my friend John Buckhurst had such
colossal irons in the fire that I knew it would take many more men as
strong as he to lift them out again. And I meant to know what those
irons were for, and who were the gentlemen to aid him lift them. So
not only must Buckhurst remain free as a lively black cricket in a
bog, but he must not be frightened if I could help it.
And to that end I leered at him knowingly, and presently bestowed a
fatuous wink upon him.
It was unpleasant for me to do this, for it implied that I was his
creature; and, in spite of the remorseless requirements of my
profession, I have an inborn hatred of falsehood in any shape. To lie
in the line of duty is one of the disagreeable necessities of certain
professions; and mine is not the only one nor the least respectable.
The art of war is to deceive; strategy is the art of demonstrating
falsehood plausibly; there is nothing respectable in the military
profession except the manual--which is now losing importance in the
eyes of advanced theorists. All men are liars--a few are unselfish
ones.
"You have given me your word of honor," said Buckhurst.
"Have I?" I had not, and he knew it. I hoped I might not be forced
to.
"Haven't you?" asked Buckhurst.
"You sneered at my word of honor," I said, with all the spite of a
coward; "now you don't get it."
He no longer wanted it, but all he said was: "Don't take unnecessary
offence; you're smart enough to know when you're well off."
* * * * *
I dozed towards sunset, waking when the Countess stepped back into the
carriage and seated herself by my side. Then, after a little, I slept
again. And it was nearly dark when I was awakened by the startling
whistle of a locomotive. The carriage appeared to be moving slowly
between tall rows of poplars and telegraph-poles; a battery of
artillery was clanking along just ahead. In the dark southern sky a
luminous haze hung.
"The lights of Strasbourg," whispered the Countess, as I sat up,
rubbing my hot eyes.