BLAISE DE LORGNAC.
We lost no time in setting forth from The Golden Frog, and as Lalande
had apparently been warned by Norreys of the danger of our meeting any
of de Clermont's following, we once more left, what by a stretch I
might call the direct road, and again took to the hill tracks, where
our wearied beasts, whom from my heart I pitied, stumbled slowly and
painfully along.
But if the beasts were wearied, how was it with myself and my maid? I
was able to keep up, no doubt because of the mental excitement under
which I laboured; but I have never understood how my faithful Mousette
endured that journey; it was in truth a road of suffering.
I simply went on mechanically, my mind a prey to a thousand
conflicting emotions, and to thoughts that chased one another across
it like dry and fallen leaves in a forest glade, blown hither and
thither by an autumn wind. It had struck me, as there was nothing to
be feared from de Termes, that I should order Lalande to turn and
guide me back to Madame and Perigueux; but de Clermont barred the way,
and it was better after all to push on to Meymac, and there with a
cooler head than I now possessed, decide what to do. What had I not
passed through within the last few hours? I had made trouble enough
for myself by jumping womanlike to conclusions, and imagining that the
postscript of de Termes' letter to his wife referred to me, whereas it
clearly concerned some one else. That was perhaps a pardonable error
considering the circumstances; but there were other things, and even
now my face grows hot when I think of them.
My nature is proud! That can never alter, though sorrow and many a
bitter lesson has brought me good sense; but it cut like a knife to
realize how I had been fooled by de Clermont, and how near I had been
to fall a victim to a pitiless libertine. It is a bad and cruel lesson
for any woman to learn that she has been the sport of a man, ten times
bad and cruel if the woman be proud and high-spirited. And as for de
Lorgnac I did not know what to think. My mind concerning him was a
chaos. I had misjudged him, wronged him utterly; but it was gall to me
to know that he had stood forth as my champion. It was bitterness
untold to think that I must humble myself in my heart before him; I
could never do so in words to his face, if ever we met, a daughter of
Mieux could not do that. It was awful to think that his hands were red
with blood for my sake, and I shuddered as I reflected that I had been
as it were the immediate cause of a frightful death; de Lorgnac had no
business to kill that man whoever he was; he had no right to make me
feel almost a murderess; and withal there rose in my heart a kind
of fierce pride in the man who could do this for my sake, and a
joy I could not make out because he was other than I took him to
be--because, in short, he was a gallant gentleman, and not--oh! I need
say no more.
When we had travelled for about the space of two hours the horse of
one of the two troopers, whom M. Norreys in his kindness had lent to
me, fell whilst crossing a water-cut, and on examination it was found
to be so hurt that it was impossible for it to continue the journey to
Millevranches. It was decided that the two men should be left behind
to return to their camp--they had not far to go--and that we should
press on as before. I gave the good fellows a brace of crowns apiece,
and commending myself to M. de Norreys, we went on, the sheep track--I
can call it by no better name--now passing through all the wildest
scenery surrounding the Puy de Meymac.
"If luck befriends us, madame, and the storm which has kept off so
long does not come, we should reach Millevranches in a little over two
hours," said Lalande to me as we rode down a narrow and steep descent.
"Why should the storm come on now? There is no breath of air stirring,
and the moon is clear."
The equerry did not reply until reaching the more level ground at the
foot of the incline down which we had ridden, and then, pointing
behind me, said simply, "Look, madame!"
Turning, I saw that half the arc of the heavens was obscured as it
were by a thick curtain, that hung heavily and sullenly over it, and
as we looked a chain of fire ran across the blackness, the distant
roar of thunder came to us, and then a low, deep moaning vibrated
through the air.
"The storm is afoot, I fear, madame. We must press on and cross the
Luxege, which though narrow enough to jump over now, may in an hour be
impassable, and with the darkness it will be impossible to tell the
way."
At this speech Mousette gave a little cry of alarm, and then, her
fears overcoming her, began to declare that she could go no further,
and begged us to leave her there to die, to be killed by the storm or
eaten up by the wolves, it did not matter which, either alternative
was preferable to going on. I tried all I could to pacify the poor
girl, but she was getting into a state of hysterical excitement, and
absolutely refused to move, though every moment was precious, and the
dead stillness formerly around us was now awake with the voice of the
coming storm. At last I began to despair of moving her, when Lalande
said grimly, "Leave her to me, madame. I am an old married man." Then
bending forward he seized my bridle and with a cool "Adieu,
mademoiselle! I hope you will not disagree with the wolves," to
Mousette, began to urge our beasts forward, notwithstanding my
protests. But the issue showed he was right, though I confess I was
surprised to see the way in which my maid recovered her strength under
this rough-and-ready treatment, for in two minutes she was bustling
along at our heels. But the lost time never came to our hands again,
and as we began to descend the wooded slope towards the Luxege, which
we could hear humming angrily below us, the stream burst with a shriek
of the winds, and an absolute darkness, that was rendered more intense
and horrible by the vivid flashes of lightning, and the continuous
roar of thunder. In a trice Lalande had dismounted and taken us from
our horses, and the poor animals seemed so overcome by fear or
fatigue, or both combined, that they stood perfectly still.
"It is death, madame, attempting to ride now. We must get to the river
on foot." Saying this, Lalande managed somehow to get the horses in
front of us, and then, holding on to each other and guided by the
incessant flashes of lightning, we began a slow and painful progress.
I soon began to feel the fatigue and exhaustion so much that I, in my
turn, begged Lalande to stop.
"Courage, madame, 'tis but a few yards more to the river bank," he
answered, "there we can stop and rest," and I took my heart up and
strove onwards once again. At last, when within a few yards of the
river, I sank down utterly exhausted and unable to move further, and
Mousette alternately sobbed and prayed over me, whilst now and again I
could see the tall figure of Lalande standing grim and motionless, and
once I fancied I heard a deep oath.
He gave us some cognac from a flask he carried, and then there was
nothing for it but to wait and meet death, if it was so to be. Now
there came a series of lightning flashes that lit up the terrific
scene, and I almost gasped, for right before me on a butting crag I
made out a small castle. Lalande saw it too, for he blew long and
shrilly on his horn, and then we watched and waited for a time that
seemed interminable, when all at once the flare of a huge beacon rose
bright and red against the darkness, and an answering bugle reached
our ears. Lalande blew again, and to our joy there was a reply.
Strength came back to me with the prospect of safety, and rising to my
feet I called to Lalande: "On! On!"
He answered, "The river, madame----"
I looked, and saw below me a white lashing flood that swung and
swirled past with a savage roar. The lightning showed us the angry
water, and the wicked dancing foam, that seemed to leap up in delight
at the prospect of the black swirl below it dragging us down to death.
Then again we heard the bugle notes, and saw the lights of torches,
and heard the shouting of men from the opposite bank.
"Let us go on to meet them--we are saved!" screamed Mousette, and
holding on to each other we staggered forward past the horses, who
stood all huddled together, only to be stopped here by the utter
darkness, and Lalande.
"For the love of heaven, madame, do not move," he cried, "rescue is
coming."
And it did come.
All that I can remember was seeing the light of many sputtering
torches around us. Some one lifted me in his arms like a child, and I
heard a voice say, "Be careful with the horses over the bridge,
Pierre," and then my strength gave way.
* * * * *
I had been asleep, asleep for ages it seemed, and all the past was a
dream, thank God! This was the thought that struck me as I opened my
eyes; but as I looked around, I saw the room in which I lay was
strange to me, and inch by inch everything came back--all except the
events of the last moments by the river, where my recollection became
confused. It was daylight, but still the remains of the storm of last
night were in evidence, and I could hear the water dripping from the
eaves, and through the half-open dormer window, the murmur of the
Luxege, still angry and unappeased, reached my ears.
Where was I? I looked about me, and found that I was in a large room,
warm from the effects of a huge wood fire that danced cheerily in the
fireplace. Leaning on one elbow, I glanced still further about me, and
saw that the furniture was of the same old and heavily antique make
that we had at Mieux. The curtains of the bed were, however, worn and
faded, the tapestry on the walls was older and more faded still; and
then my eyes were arrested by the coat-of-arms carved on the stonework
of the fireplace--two wolves' heads, with a motto so chipped and
defaced that I could not read it. Whose was the device? I lay back and
thought, but could not make it out. Certainly not that of any of the
great houses--no doubt my kind preserver belonged to the lesser
nobility--but I could soon find out. Then I closed my eyes once more
and would have slept, but was aroused by some one entering the room,
and, looking up, saw Mousette.
"Ah! madem--madame, I mean," she said eagerly, "thank God, you are
looking none the worse for that terrible night. I little thought we
would ever live to see daylight again."
"Where are we, Mousette? And who are the kind people who saved us?"
"I do not know, madame," she answered quickly, "but we are the only
women here. But," she ran on, "it is mid-day and touching the dinner
hour. Will madame rise or be served here?"
"I will rise, of course, Mousette;" and during the course of my toilet
I asked if the people of the house knew who we were.
"I have not mentioned anything, madame," replied Mousette, with her
face slightly turned away, "and Lalande is discreet."
I felt that Mousette knew more than she cared to tell; but it is not
my way to converse with servants; and finishing my dressing in
silence, I asked her to show me the way to the salon, and as I spoke I
heard a gong go.
"Monsieur will be served at once," said Mousette. "This way, madame,"
and opening the curtains of the door, she led me down a series of
winding steps worn with the feet that had passed up and down there for
perhaps a couple of centuries, and then, past a long passage hung with
suits of rusty armour and musty trophies of the chase, to a large
door. I gathered that Mousette had been making good use of her time
whilst in the house, but kept silent. The door was open, and as I
passed in Mousette left me. I found I was in a room that was
apparently used as a dining-room and salon as well. There was trace of
recent occupation, for a man's hat and a pair of leathern gloves
somewhat soiled with use were lying on a table, and a great hound rose
slowly from the rushes on the floor, and, after eyeing me a moment,
came up in a most friendly manner to be patted and made much of. A
small table near the fireplace was laid for one, and as I was looking
towards it a grey-haired and sober servant brought in the dinner, and
then, bowing gravely, announced that I was served.
"Is not monsieur--monsieur--?" I stammered.
"Monsieur le Chevalier has had to go out on urgent business. He has
ordered me to present his compliments to madame----"
"I see; monsieur does not dine here."
The man bowed, and I sat down to a solitary meal with the big dog at
my feet, and the silent, grave attendant to wait on me. I amused
myself with the hound, and with taking note of the room. Like
everything else I had seen, its furniture and fittings seemed a
century old, and spoke of wealth that had passed away. There was a
sadness about this, and a gloom that saddened me in spite of myself,
so that it was with an effort I managed to eat, and then, when dinner
was over, I told the servant to inform his master that I desired to
thank him for the great kindness shown to me.
"I will deliver madame's message," and with this reply he went.
Left to myself, I went to the window and looked out through the
glazing. The landscape was obscured by a rolling mist; but the sun was
dissipating this bravely. It was a wild and desolate scene, and,
despite the sunlight, oppressed me almost as much as my solitary meal,
so I turned back into the room, and, seating myself in a great chair,
stared into the fireplace, the hound stretching himself beside me. I
was still wearied, and my thoughts ran slowly on until I caught myself
wondering who my unknown host was, and getting a trifle impatient,
too, because he did not come, for I was anxious to set forward to
Meymac.
Suddenly I heard a steady measured step in the passage, the hound
leaped up with a bay of welcome, and as I rose from my seat the
curtain was lifted, and I stood face to face with my husband.
"You! De Lorgnac!" I gasped.
"Even I," he said. "I thought you knew. Are you none the worse for
your adventure of last night?"
"I am quite well, thanks to God." "And thanks to you," I was about to
add, but my lips could not frame the words, and I felt myself
beginning to tremble. Monsieur noticed this.
"I am afraid you underrate your strength; do sit down," he said
kindly.
"I prefer to stand, thank you, Monsieur le Chevalier," and then there
was a silence, during which I know not what passed through de
Lorgnac's mind; but I, I was fighting with myself to prevent my heart
getting the better of me, for if so I would have to humble myself--I,
a daughter of Mieux! Monsieur broke the silence himself.
"Denise, I give you my word of honour that I would not have intruded
on you, but that you asked to see me, and I thought you knew whom you
wished to see. Besides, I felt that I owed a little to myself. You
have accused me of being a dishonoured gentleman, of being little less
than a common bravo, of wedding you to your misery for your estates."
He came forward a step and looked me full in the face with his clear
strong eyes. "As God is my witness," he went on, "you are utterly
mistaken. I am going to-day on an affair the issue of which no one can
foresee. Think! Would I go with a lie on my lips? Answer me--tell me.
Whatever else you may think, you do not believe this."
I was fumbling with one of his gloves, and could not meet his look.
"You put me in a difficult position, monsieur--this is your own
house."
He looked about him with a bitter smile. "Yes--it is my house--hardly
the house to which one would bring the heiress of Mieux--but is that
your answer to me?"
And still I was silent. I could not bring myself to say what he
wanted. And now too it was not only pride that was holding me back. I
felt that if I gave him the answer he wished, manlike he would begin
to press his love on me, and I was not prepared for this. I did not
know my own feelings towards him; but of one thing I was sure--I would
not be bound by hollow vows that were forced upon me, and so I fenced.
"This adventure of yours, monsieur--is it so very dangerous?"
"It is not the danger I am thinking of. It is your faith in my honour.
No man is blameless, and least of all I. I own I was wrong--that I
sinned grievously in marrying you as I have. My excuse is that I love
you--that is a thing I cannot control. But I will do all I can to make
reparation. I will never see you again, and the times are such that
you may soon be as free as air. All that I ask is this one thing."
"But, monsieur, have you no proof--nothing to bring forward?"
"I have nothing to offer but my word."
"Your word--your word--is that all you can say?"
He bowed slightly in reply, but his look was hungry for his answer.
Still I could not give it, and played with time.
"You say you love me. Does love resign its object as you do--without a
struggle? If I believe one thing I must believe all, monsieur. I
cannot believe a profession of love like yours"--how false I knew this
to be--"and the rest must follow."
He twisted at his moustache in the old way, and I saw his sunburnt
face grow, as it were on a sudden, wan and haggard, and the pity that
lies in all women's hearts rose within me.
"Monsieur le Chevalier, if you were to get the answer that you wanted,
would you still adhere to your promise and never see me again?"
"I have said so," he said hoarsely.
"Then, monsieur, let me tell you that I have found I was wrong, and
that I do believe your word--nay, more, monsieur, I have found de
Lorgnac to be a gallant gentleman--whom Denise de Mieux has to thank
for her honour and her life----"
"Denise!" There was a glad note in his voice, and in a moment he had
stepped up to me, and I had yielded, but that I wanted this king
amongst men to be king over himself.
"A moment, monsieur. You have given me your word, be strong enough to
keep it. I have learned to respect and honour you; but I do not love
you. You must keep your word, de Lorgnac, and go--until I ask you to
come back."
"Without a word he turned on his heel and walked towards the door; but
I could not let him go like that and I called to him. He stopped and
turned towards me, but made no further advance, and then I went up to
him with my hand outstretched.
"Monsieur, there is one thing more. I have the honour to be the wife
of de Lorgnac, and for the present I crave your permission to make
Lorgnac my home. Will you not grant me this request? And will you not
shake hands before you go?"
I thought I had tried him too far, and that the man would break down;
but no, the metal was true. Yet the haggard look in his face went out
as he answered:
"Denise, Lorgnac is yours to its smallest stone, and I thank you for
this." Then he bent down and touched my fingers with his lips, and was
gone.