CHAPTER XXXIX.

The day was just at its close as we issued forth from the forest, and

took our way towards the bridge which crossed the river. I followed

the procession on horseback amongst the last; and the whole scene,

associated as it was with many deep interests and strange memories,

was one of the most beautiful and extraordinary that ever my eye

beheld. It was a splendid autumn evening, with the sun pouring his

setting beams from the west, amidst scattered clouds tinged with every

glorious colour that the mind can conceive. The long line of litters,

and carriages, and horsemen, and foot, was winding slowly down the

slope, which led from the edge of the wood towards the stream; and far

and wide beneath my eyes--with every undulation marked by its own

peculiar shade, and every building or group of trees casting long

purple shadows as they cut off the rays of the declining sun--lay the

rich wide lands of Brittany; while round about me, dark and heavy with

the evening twilight, rose the broken masses of wood, with the

thousands of wild banks and thorny dingles which skirted the verge of

the forest. The peculiar rich light of the hour, too, spread over all

the scene; and, catching here and there upon the bright arms and gay

dresses of the soldiers and the servants, marked the different points

in the procession; while every now and then, even in the more distant

prospect, it touched some glistening object, and made it start forth,

like a diamond, from the dark lines of planting or the gray slopes of

the lulls, not unlike one of those bright goals which youth fixes for

its endeavours through life, as it stands upon the verge of manhood,

and contemplates the distant future, while imagination flashes

brilliantly on the object of desire, and lends it a lustre not its

own. There was a fascination in the moment, and the scene, and the

feelings of my own heart, not to be resisted; and I reined in my horse,

for a single instant, to gaze upon the prospect, and then followed on,

thinking, that if the beauties of nature be a substantial blessing to

man, how much does his appreciation of them depend upon the state of

his own bosom. A few hours before, I might have ridden through Tempe

at day-break, without noting that there was anything lovely before my

eyes; and now, I could not have passed a quiet dell, or a bubbling

brook, without feeling that the whole world is beautiful.

I had lingered awhile behind the rest in order to hear the report of a

party which had been sent to examine the mill, at which I doubted not

that Hubert and his companions had established their chief rendezvous:

but nothing was found there which could lead to any further discovery;

and, as soon as the other horsemen overtook me, I rode on; and, easily

passing the rest of the cavalcade, acted as their harbinger at the

Prés Vallée. I found Father Ferdinand in no small agitation; but

before giving him any particulars of the events which had occurred, I

despatched messengers to Rennes for every sort of medical assistance,

and then relieved more fully the good Father's anxiety concerning

Monsieur de Villardin and Laura.

"Are you sure, are you sure, that he is not much hurt?" he asked

eagerly, referring to Monsieur de Villardin.

"The wound certainly, at first, appeared a very serious one," I

replied; "but by the speedy cessation of the hemorrhage, and the want

of that great weakness which I have generally seen follow very

dangerous wounds, I trust there is nothing to be apprehended."

"God grant it!" replied the Priest, "God grant it!" and after gazing

upon me for a moment or two, he added, "and what is to become of you,

my son?"

I understood the meaning of his question fully, and replied, "As far

as I have been enabled to judge, good Father, there exists no further

necessity for absenting myself. The Count de Laval resigns all claim to

the hand of Mademoiselle de Villardin, and the Duke does not show any

desire to bid me return to Dumont. But--ere we are interrupted--I hear

from good old Jerome, that you despatched a messenger to me some days

since. He never reached me."

"No, no!" cried Father Ferdinand, hastily, "No, no.--It is a mistake.

I despatched no messenger to you, my son. But, hark! I think I hear

the horses' feet," and he turned to the window to look out.

He was mistaken, however; and some minutes more elapsed before the

cavalcade made its appearance. Our first care was, of course, of

Monsieur de Villardin; but though he spoke only a few words, in an

under voice, for fear of irritating the wound in his breast, and

consented immediately to go to bed, yet he walked up the stairs with

so much strength, that our apprehensions on his account were nearly

done away.

The servants and soldiers who had been wounded, were disposed of in

various parts of the building; and I aided in carrying the unhappy

Suzette to a chamber on the ground floor, as she seemed to suffer so

greatly from the slightest motion that we feared to convey her to a

more convenient apartment. As soon as we had laid her upon her couch,

I was turning to give what assistance I could in the other

arrangements, but she beckoned me eagerly back, saying, in a low,

husky voice, "I would speak with you, sir! I would speak with you

alone!"

She was evidently dying, and of course her request was not to be

refused. Desiring the servants, therefore, to attend to the safe

keeping of Gaspard de Belleville, I bade them leave me, and, closing

the door, approached the bedside of the unhappy woman, whose moments

in this life were waxing few.

"Monsieur de Juvigny," she said, in a voice so faint and inarticulate,

that it required great attention to catch the meaning of her words;

"Monsieur de Juvigny--I would fain tell you something which may be of

service both to you and to the Duke.--Do you remember, when I told you

my history once before, I said I had a third motive for bidding you

repeat it to Monsieur de Villardin?"

"Well--very well!" I replied; "but, my good Suzette, be as brief as

possible, for you are wasting your strength, and you may yet need all

you have left."

"You need not hear me, unless you please," she answered, peevishly,

and then continued, in the same low and irregular voice, "Well, I was

saying, that I had a third motive--it was this, that I knew something

that no one else knew; and I knew it, because, after I was sent

away from Dumont, I lodged for some time in the house of old

Madame----"

I lost the name, and her voice became more and more indistinct, but

still she went on:--"She used to attend sick people, you know, at

Estienne, and though she had been sworn to secrecy, yet----"

But her words became quite unintelligible, and perceiving that I did

not understand her, she paused, and gazed in my face with a painful

stare of anger and disappointment, as if my want of attention had been

the cause of my not comprehending what she said. I saw that death was

approaching fast, and I asked, in charity, "Would you wish to see your

husband, Suzette?"

She made an effort to raise herself upon her arm, as she exclaimed

distinctly, "I hate him!" but immediately sunk back upon the pillow.

In answer to another question, as to whether she would wish to see a

minister of religion, she raised her hand, and bowed her head, in

token of acquiescence; and, rising, I proceeded to seek for Father

Ferdinand.

I was told that he was in the chamber of Monsieur de Villardin, with

Laura, and old Jerome Laborde; and, taking the liberty which had

always been granted me of entering the Duke's apartments in the hours

of sickness, I proceeded immediately thither, in search of the good

confessor.

Father Ferdinand was engaged in writing a paper for Monsieur de

Villardin, who, as I entered, held up his finger to me to keep silence

till it was completed, which was not long in being done. The Duke then

read it over attentively, and turning slightly in his bed, affixed his

signature to it. The Count de Laval, who was also in the room, next

advanced and took the pen; and I could see the eyes of Laura, who was

sitting by her father's pillow, glance from him to me, beaming up as

they did so, with a look full of affection and hope. When the Count

had signed it, Laura also put her name, and Jerome and Father

Ferdinand added their own, as witnesses.

"Monsieur de Juvigny," said Monsieur de Villardin, speaking in a low

voice, which was evidently modulated from caution more than from

weakness, "what were you going to say?"

"I was merely about to tell Father Ferdinand," I replied, "that that

unhappy woman, Suzette, is below, dying, and that she requires the aid

of the church, with speed."

Father Ferdinand instantly rose to seek her, but Monsieur de Villardin

made a sign to him to pause for a moment, and, beckoning me closer to

him, he gave me the paper which he had just signed. "Although I

believe that I have been much nearer death than I am at present," he

said, "yet as all wounds such as I have received are uncertain in

their consequences, I have thought fit, my dear boy, as far as

possible, to put your happiness, and that of my dear Laura, beyond

further doubt. If I survive, I myself will join your hands; if not,

that paper will remove all difficulty on the part of others. Nay, do

not thank me, de Juvigny; Monsieur le Comte here has behaved most

nobly, and requires the gratitude of all; but I have only acted now as

I should have acted long ago. Now, my dear sir," he added, speaking to

the confessor, "seek the poor creature who desires your presence.

Perhaps when the surgeons arrive, I may wish you and de Juvigny to be

with me also; but, in the meantime, I would willingly pass half an

hour alone. Nay, leave me, dear Laura, and look not sad. Things will

go well, I am sure."

We all, accordingly, left the room. Father Ferdinand betook himself to

the bedside of Suzette. The emotions in the bosom of Laura, both

pleasurable and painful, were too many and too mixed to admit of

words, and she immediately retired to her chamber; while old Jerome

proceeded to bustle about in discharge of the various functions of his

office, so that the moment after we had left Monsieur de Villardin,

the Count and myself were left alone. My feelings towards him at that

instant would not be very easily defined even now, nor did I very well

know how to demean myself towards him, so as to express my sense of

his noble and feeling conduct, without abating my own dignity.

"Monsieur le Comte," I said, after some slight hesitation, "you have

acted nobly and generously towards me, and, therefore, I have to

return you my thanks, which I do most sincerely, for pursuing a line

of conduct that, doubtless, was the best calculated to promote your

own happiness also, but which, most certainly, has ensured and

restored mine."

"You owe me no thanks, Monsieur de Juvigny," he replied. "Having had

few opportunities of cultivating the pleasure of your acquaintance, I

cannot be supposed to have been actuated by any feeling of personal

interest towards you. The fact is, that Mademoiselle de Villardin,

some days ago, gave me to understand that her affections were

irrevocably bestowed upon another; and, however highly I might esteem

the honour of Monsieur de Villardin's alliance, of course I did not

covet the hand of a young lady, whose heart, I clearly saw, I could

never hope to possess. Other circumstances combined, I acknowledge, to

fix my determination; but once having resolved upon resigning all

claim to the honour intended for me, I saw no reason why I should not

do my best to make her happy, who had frankly informed me that she

could never make me so. Thus you see that you have no cause to thank

me, though I do not deny that it gives me great pleasure to serve a

gentleman every way so deserving as yourself."

This was spoken in that calm, polite, ceremonious sort of tone, which

put all feeling out of the question, and which seemed perfectly

intended to stop everything like an expression of gratitude. Such

being the case, I, of course, said no more upon the subject, and the

Count at once turned the conversation to the events which had lately

occurred.

"It seems to me evident, Monsieur de Juvigny," he said, "from all I

have been enabled to gather, that this attack upon our party has been

long concerted, and that nothing has prevented its execution before

but want of opportunity. I am curious, however, I acknowledge, to

ascertain how such a scheme could be long carried on without being

divulged by some accident or other. These people, it is evident, must

have watched us for some time, and must also have been very thoroughly

acquainted with all that was passing here."

"I doubt not that they were, my lord," I replied; "but, in regard to

their schemes not having been discovered, you are, in some degree,

mistaken; for the night previous to my departure from this place,

about three weeks or a month ago, I myself observed two men examining

the château, late at night, and heard a part of their conversation,

which, though it certainly did not afford me any accurate information,

at all events served to show me that some evil design was in progress.

With these facts I made Monsieur de Villardin acquainted; but it

appears that, confiding in the number of his attendants, he did not

take the necessary precautions."

"It seems," replied the Count, with a smile that I did not

particularly like--"It seems that you were more watchful over our

safety. Nay, do not look offended, Monsieur de Juvigny, I mean nothing

that should in the least hurt you, thinking it very natural that a

young lover should hover round his mistress, although he might think

that she was lost to him for ever."

"At all events, Monsieur le Comte, your conclusion is, I can assure

you, wrong. The fact is, that I received information, some time ago,

from Monsieur de Villardin himself, purporting that the marriage of

his daughter was to take place yesterday, and that he himself, with

all his family, were to set out immediately for Paris. Concluding that

this was the case, I felt myself at liberty to return to scenes that

were dear to me; and, on my arrival, was met by the woman who informed

me of your situation, and directed me to the spot where you had been

carried. I am still, however, ignorant of all the events which

preceded my finding you in the forest, and I would fain ask a detail

of them, were it not trespassing too greatly on your time."

"Oh! the whole business is very soon related," replied he.

"Mademoiselle de Villardin being so much better, and able to take the

air, her father determined to accompany her in the carriage, while I,

with four servants, escorted them on horseback. After passing the

bridge at--I forget the name of the place--we went on for about a mile

or a mile and a half towards the forest, intending to turn back ere we

reached it, when suddenly, as we were passing between two hedges, we

were saluted by a volley of musquetry, which instantly brought three

of the servants to the ground, and wounded my horse so severely as to

make him fall with me. At the same time the carriage was surrounded,

Monsieur de Villardin seized and tied before he could make any

resistance, and I, sharing the same fate, was placed beside him and

Mademoiselle in the carriage. The ruffian you shot, and his companion,

as well as another personage of the same stamp, took their places

beside us. Two of the servants who were wounded, as well as the rest

who were made prisoners, were forced to sit on their horses and follow

the rest; and we were soon carried off into the heart of the wood,

leaving none but one of the poor fellows, who had been killed upon the

spot, behind us. All this occupied a considerable time, and I was in

hopes every moment that some one, attracted by the sound of musquetry,

might come up and at least carry the news to the town. But in this

wild province one might as well be in a desert. No one appeared, and

we were dragged on into the wood, without the slightest power of

resistance. Luckily, however, the road was so bad and sandy, that we

made but slow progress; and, at length, as good fortune would have it,

just as we were going to cross the stream, the carriage was

overturned, and stuck immovable in the sand. You may easily imagine

that we afforded no great assistance to our conductors, and did not

make our movements any quicker than we were compelled to do. Thus at

least half-an-hour was consumed in endeavouring to move the

carriage, and in getting us out of it. We were then forced to walk

forwards for a considerable distance to an old mill, which seemed at

some former period to have been destroyed by fire; and here, all our

horses having been tied to the building, we were again marched forward

to the little chapel where you found us, and where we were received by

another of the band, who seemed to have a priest in his custody,

though, I must confess, the worthy clerk did not appear to be under

any very great restraint. I had remarked, as we went along, that one

of the leaders of our assailants had paid considerable attention to

Mademoiselle de Villardin, and had also learned, from some words that

Monsieur de Villardin let fall--though they took care, with pistols at

our throats, to keep us from much conversation--that the other

personage, who seemed to take a lead amongst them, had formerly been a

page in this family. I was thus the less surprised when, on reaching

the chapel, the former coolly proposed to Mademoiselle de Villardin to

become his wife; and, as a sort of mild inducement, informed her that,

unless she instantly consented, he would shoot her father, myself, and

all the other prisoners before her eyes. Of course, a considerable

discussion took place upon this point, which was cut short by your

punishing the villain as he deserved; and with everything else that

occurred, you are, perhaps, better acquainted than I am."

"The only matter that I do not know," I replied, "and which I had

forgotten till this moment, is the fate of the priest, whom I do not

remember to have seen after the beginning of the affray."

"Oh! I marked him well," replied the Count. "He slipped away into the

wood as fast as possible; and, as his clerical dress probably saved

him from interruption on the part either of the servants or the

soldiers, he was, no doubt, soon far enough from the scene of

conflict."

The arrival of the surgeons at this moment interrupted our further

conversation; and, according to the desire which Monsieur de Villardin

had expressed, I proceeded to the chamber where I had left Suzette, in

order to call Father Ferdinand to accompany the medical men to the

Duke's chamber. Knowing that the unhappy woman, even before I left

her, had been incapable of making confession, except by signs, I did

not hesitate to open the door, and I found the good priest still

standing by her bedside, but no longer engaged in offering the

consolations of religion, which now could have fallen alone upon the

deaf ear of the dead.

"It is all over, my son," he said, as he saw me. "Have the surgeons

arrived?"

I replied that they had, and he immediately followed me to the saloon

where I had left them, whence we again proceeded to the chamber of

Monsieur de Villardin. We found him perfectly composed, and willing to

submit to anything that the medical men might think proper. But, after

examining the wound, questioning their patient, and consulting long

amongst themselves, the surgeons judged it not expedient even to

attempt the extraction of the ball; but applied themselves, as far as

possible, to prevent any fever ensuing from the wound, and determined

to leave Nature herself to do what she could to relieve their patient,

before they endeavoured to assist her by the resources of art. When

they had done everything that they thought fit, they left one of their

number in the chamber of the Duke, to watch every turn in his case;

and then, accompanied by the confessor and myself, proceeded to visit

the servants and soldiers who had been wounded. As we went, Father

Ferdinand, I remarked, anxiously questioned the principal surgeon upon

the state of Monsieur de Villardin, and as to whether there existed

even a chance of immediate danger. The surgeon replied, that he saw

none whatever. The hemorrhage, he said, having spontaneously ceased,

showed that no great blood vessel had been injured, and that all that

was now to be feared was subsequent inflammation taking place amongst

some of the most delicate organs of the human frame. Satisfied with

this assurance, Father Ferdinand only requested that immediate

information might be given to him, on the first appearance of any

dangerous symptom, reminding the surgeon that, as Monsieur de

Villardin's confessor, he had very important duties to perform

towards him, as soon as it was ascertained that he was in perilous

circumstances. "I need not tell you, sir," he added, "that, with a

man of Monsieur de Villardin's nerve, the knowledge that he is in

danger would in no degree tend to impede his recovery."

The surgeon promised to give him timely notice; and, on visiting the

other wounded persons, we found that only one was beyond hope, while

all the rest bade fair for a speedy recovery. It may as well be

mentioned here, that they all did recover but one, who--as well as the

servant I had seen lying on the road, and another who had been killed

in our conflict with the robbers--was buried a few days after,

together with Suzette, in the chapel of the château.

The party of the guards from Rennes, who had arrived so promptly to

our aid, remained at the Prés Vallée all night; and, as it was late

before all the events which I have mentioned had taken place, I sent

up old Jerome Laborde to Laura's apartment to know whether she thought

fit to come down to the supper table. She declined, however, as I had

expected; and, as Father Ferdinand also retired to his own chamber,

indisposed by all the scenes which he had just gone through to partake

in anything like mirth or festivity, I was obliged to do the honours

of Monsieur de Villardin's table to the Count de Laval and the

commander of the guards from Rennes, though I would much rather have

been permitted, in silence and solitude, to think over all the events

that had occurred, and to offer up my thanks to Heaven for the change

from the deepest misery to a state of happiness, which my bitter

repinings, under a temporary affliction, had, I confess, but little

deserved. The young officer, with all the thoughtless gaiety of his

age and his profession, drank deep and sat long, and might indeed,

have continued his carousings to a much later hour, if the Count, who,

for a time, had been amused with his liveliness, at length getting

tired, had not risen unceremoniously, and wished him good night. The

young officer looked at me with a wistful glance, to see whether there

was any chance of prolonging his potations with me; but my glass,

which had long been vacant, gave him a sufficient reply, and, drinking

one deep draught to our good repose, he once more visited his troop,

and then betook himself to rest.

As all was won becoming quiet in the château, and, one after another,

its different inhabitants were dropping off to their beds, I sought

out my old friend Lise, and charged her with a message to her

mistress, expressing a hope that I might have an interview with her

the next day. Lise gave me, with a smile, the certain assurance of my

request being complied with,--especially, she said, as she herself

intended to go to Rennes, and her mistress would want some companion

who knew how to take care of her. She was going on in the same strain,

with a good deal of harmless conceit borne lightly forth to her

tongue, on the full current of joy,--the floodgates of which had been

opened in her heart by all the news she had received from her

mistress--but some persons passing to their beds interrupted our

conversation, and I proceeded once more to the apartments of Monsieur

de Villardin. By means of his ante-chamber and dressing-room, I was

enabled to enter without disturbing him; and, sitting quietly down by

the surgeon, I remained the greater part of the night, anxious to see

how it passed with his patient. At first he was somewhat restless,

but towards morning he fell into a tranquil sleep; and, auguring

better from all I now saw, than I had before fully permitted myself to

hope, I left his apartments at about three o'clock, and retired to

rest.

The Little Ball O' Fire; or, the Life and Adventures of John Marston Hall The Works of G. P. R. James, Vol. XV. · 第 34 / 38 章