THE RIDE
It is one hundred and fifty leagues from Versailles to the harbour of
Le Havre as the crow flies, one hundred and eighty most like by road
and across fields.
Gaston had twelve hours in which to cover the ground, a good horse,
and the enthusiasm born of empty pockets when two and a half million
livres loom temptingly at the end of the journey.
The fields, after the corn harvest, were excellent for a gallop,
yielding just sufficiently to the mare's hoofs to give her a pleasant
foothold, but not in any way spongy, with good stubble to give
resistance and the sandy soil below to prevent the slightest jar.
Riding under such conditions, in the cool hours of the morning, was
distinctly pleasant.
Gaston reached Nantes soon after seven, having covered close on forty
leagues of his journey without unduly tiring Belle Amie. He was a good
rider and knew how to ease her, and there was Arab blood in her. She
made light of the work, and enjoyed her gallops, being of the breed
that never shows fatigue, own daughter to Jedran who had carried
Maurice de Saxe on his famous ride from Paris to Saargemund, three
hundred leagues in eighteen hours.
At Nantes, Stainville partook of a frugal breakfast, and Belle Amie
had a rest and a mouthful of corn. He was again to horse within half
an hour, crossing the Seine here by the newly constructed stone
bridge, thence on toward Elboeuf. By ten o'clock the sun was high in
the heavens and was pouring heat like molten lead down on horse and
rider. Progress had become much slower. Several halts had to be made
at tiny wayside inns for a cooling drink and a rub down for Belle
Amie. The enjoyment had gone out of the ride. It was heavy, arduous
work, beside which despatch riding, with message of life and death,
was mere child's play.
But this was not a case of life and death, but of that which was far
dearer to Gaston than life without it. Money! money at the end of it
all! even if Belle Amie dropped on the roadside and he himself had to
cover the rest of the distance on foot. An extra half million if _La
Monarque_ set sail before sunset to-day.
At Rouen, horse and rider had to part company. Belle Amie, who had
covered close on a hundred leagues, and most of it in the full glare
of the midday sun, wanted at least a couple of hours rest if she was
to get to Le Havre at all, and this her rider was unwilling to give
her. At the posting hostelry, which stands immediately at the rear of
the cathedral, Stainville bargained for a fresh horse, and left Belle
Amie in charge of mine host to be tended and cared for against his
return, probably on the morrow.
Here, too, he partook of a light midday meal whilst the horse was
being got ready for him. A good, solid Normandy mare this time, a
perfect contrast to Belle Amie, short and thick in the legs, with a
broad crupper, and a sleepy look in her eye. But she was a comfortable
mount as Gaston soon found out, with a smooth, even canter, and though
her stride was short, she got over the ground quickly enough. It was
still very hot, but the roads beyond Rouen were sandy and light; the
lanes were quite stoneless and shaded by tall trees; the Normandy mare
settled down along them to an easy amble. She had not the spirit of
Belle Amie but she made up in stolidity what she had lacked in
swiftness. Gaston's first impatience at the slowness of her gait soon
yielded to content, for she needed no checking, and urging being
useless--since she could go no faster--the rider was soon able to let
his mind rest and even to sink into semi-somnolence, trusting himself
to the horse entirely.
At half-past five the towers of Notre Dame du Havre were in sight; an
hour later than Gaston had dared to hope, but still far from the hour
of sunset, and if he could infuse a sufficiency of enthusiasm into the
commander of _Le Monarque_, the gallant ship could still negotiate the
harbour before dusk, the tide being favourable, and be out in the open
ere the first stars appeared in the heavens.
The little seaport town, whose tortuous, unpaved, and narrow streets
were ankle deep in slimy mud in spite of the persistent heat and
dryness of the day, appeared to Gaston like the golden city of his
dreams. On his left the wide mouth of the Seine, with her lonely shore
beyond, was lost in the gathering mist, which rose rapidly now after
the intense heat of the day. On his right, a few isolated houses were
dotted here and there, built of mud, thatched and plastered over, and
with diminutive windows not more than a few inches square, because of
the tax which was heavy; they testified to the squalor and misery of
their inhabitants, a few families earning an uncertain livelihood with
their nets. Soon along the length of the river, as it gradually
widened toward its mouth, a few isolated craft came to view; fishing
boats these mostly, with here and there a graceful brigantine laden
with timber, and a few barges which did a precarious coasting-trade
with salted fish and the meagre farm produce of the environs.
Gaston de Stainville took no heed of these, though the scene--if
somewhat mournful and desolate--had a certain charm of rich colouring
and hazy outline in the glow of the afternoon sun. The heat had
altogether abated, and the damp which rose from the spongy soil,
peculiar to the bed of the river, was already making itself felt.
Gaston shivered beneath the light cloth coat which he had donned in
the morning, in view of the fatigues of a hot summer's day. His eyes
peered anxiously ahead and to the left of him. His mare, who had borne
him stolidly for over five hours, was quite ready to give way; there
was no Arab blood in her to cause her to go on until she dropped. She
had settled down to a very slow jog-trot, which was supremely
uncomfortable to the rider, whose tired back could scarcely endure
this continuous jar. Fortunately the straggling, outlying portions of
the townlet were already far behind; the little mud houses appeared
quite frequently now, and from them, wizened figures came out to the
doorway; women in ragged kirtles and children half-naked but for a
meagre shift, gazed, wide-eyed, at the mud-bespattered cavalier and
his obviously worn-out mount.
From the fine old belfry the chime had long tolled the half hour.
Gaston vainly tried to spur the mare to a final effort. She had
reached a stage of fatigue when blows would not have quickened her
steps, whilst her rider, roused from his own somnolent weariness, was
suddenly alert and eager. Goal was indeed in sight. The mud huts even
had been left behind, and one or two stone houses testified to the
importance of the town and the well-being of its inhabitants; the
first inn--a miserable wooden construction quite uninviting even after
a day's ride--had already been passed. Ahead was the church of Notre
Dame, the fish market, and the residence of the governor; beyond were
some low wooden buildings, suggestive of barracks, whilst the Seine,
ever widening until her further shore was finally lost in the mist,
now showed an ever-varying panorama of light and heavy craft upon her
breast; brigantines, and fishing boats, and the new-fashioned top-sail
schooners, and far ahead, majestic and sedate, one or two
three-deckers of His Majesty's own navy.
Gaston strained his eyes, wondering which of these was _Le Monarque_!