Twenty miles in a day is no great walking. I myself have walked forty in
ten hours. But the great point is what we walk over. It is the great
point in life, too; for the worthy patriarchs, I have no doubt,
journeyed through life for two or three hundred years without getting
weary, simply because they had such an easy road to travel. Abraham had
to fight now and then, it is true, and from time to time there was a
quarrel amongst the herdsmen; but these were little incidents that only
served to enliven the way; and the rest of the travel was without
excitement of mind or great exertion of body. If Abraham or Isaac or
Jacob had passed through nothing but low entangling bushes,--bilberries
and cranberries, and sometimes blackberries, with their long prickly
arms,--they would have laid themselves down to rest much sooner, and
felt themselves as tired as Edward Langdale when, just about daybreak,
he reached the end of the twentieth mile from the Chateau of Coiffy.
Edward had then arrived at a country somewhat more open; and he sat
himself down to rest not far from a little country-road, which he could
trace by the eye, running on, almost in a straight line, toward the tall
square tower of a village-church. But that village-church was at least
six miles distant; and Edward had not tasted food during fourteen or
fifteen hours. His wet clothes had dried upon him, too, under the cold
night-wind, stiffening every limb; and he had no comfortable little
brandy-bottle, such as so often cheers the way for the modern romantic
traveller.
The spot where he stopped, however, was a dry grassy mound, with some
yellow broken ground before it; and out of the bank welled a little
clear rivulet, where he quenched his thirst after the olden fashion
before ladles or goblets were invented.
While he was still stooping down he heard the beat of horses' feet upon
the road; and, with that strong consciousness of running away which
makes every man who possesses it more or less timid, he hid himself
under the bank as well as he could.
Presently, as well as the footfalls, he heard the sound of voices; and
for a moment his apprehension was increased by one of the voices
sounding familiar to his ear.
He was relieved in a moment, however,--and very much relieved.
"Why, you are drunk already, you beast!" said one voice; and then came
the thick and juicy tones of good Pierrot la Grange, with the music of
brandy very strong in them. "To-be-sure I am," answered Pierrot. "Have I
not had sorrow and trouble enough to make me drunk every day of the
week for the last three months? My noble lord in prison; Master Ned no
one knows where,--the only lad in all this world that could keep me
straight."
"Pierrot! Pierrot!" shouted Edward; "Jacques Beaupré! halt there! I am
nearer than you think."
The two horsemen stopped, the one with a dumb and stupefied gaze around,
a little conscience-stricken, perhaps, at the state in which he had to
present himself to his young master, the other with an observation in a
low tone as to the consequences of talking of the devil. But Edward was
soon by their side, and they were not long upon their horses' backs.
Each was sincerely glad to see the young Englishman; for force of
character as often wins affection as respect. Edward's adventures were
soon told; and luckily the two men had some solid provisions with them,
as well as Pierrot's brandy-bottle,--which was now nearly vacant of its
contents. While the young gentleman ate and drank, the history of the
two servants was related, at somewhat greater length than his own,
though it was a very monotonous one. They had remained at Nancy with the
rest of Lord Montagu's servants for some time, they said, before they
heard of that nobleman's capture. After the news reached them, a week
was spent, according to Jacques Beaupré, in active deliberations, at the
end of which, as they had a sufficiency of money, their wages having
been paid for some time in advance, it was determined to stay quietly
where they were till they received some orders. One or two of their
comrades, however, dropped off from time to time, till the two Frenchmen
and young Freeland only remained of the whole party. For week after week
no news came; but at length, some four days previous to that on which
they spoke, a messenger had arrived from Lord Montagu, announcing his
liberation and bearing funds to pay all expenses. At the same time, they
said, Master Freeland was ordered to give them their discharge, and they
were actually on their way back to their own part of France.
"And so his lordship is liberated?" said Edward, with a slight touch of
bitterness in his tone; for he could not imagine such an event to have
happened so suddenly that Montagu, who had found time to take care of
common servants, had none to bestow a thought on him. "You are going
back to Aunis, you say. Well, my good fellows, if you have a mind for
such a companion, I will go with you. I will be no charge to you, for I
have money enough with me. All I want is a horse and some arms."
"Charge, Master Ned!" exclaimed Pierrot, in a burst of semi-drunken
enthusiasm. "What care we about charges? If it were the last crown I had
in the world, I would share it with you. And as to a horse, here, get
upon mine. I can walk well enough to that big village there, which they
say is called Vitell. But here; let me take the pistols out of the
holsters. I won't trust you with them, by the Lord!"
"Nonsense!" answered Edward. "I will not use them, man, upon my honor."
"No, no," said Pierrot, deliberately taking the pistols from his
saddle-bow. "If once you get your hand upon the stock, there is no
knowing where the bullets may go flying; and my legs have got lead
enough in them already this morning."
"Your head has got brandy enough in it," said Jacques Beaupré: "that's
what puts the lead in your heels. Here; let me hold the horse while our
young master mounts, or you'll be down with your nose in the water and
set the fountain boiling."
"If all the water in the world could wash it white," answered Pierrot,
"I would tumble into a pond every day. It is that nose of mine gets me a
bad reputation and makes men say I drink. Why, every man drinks. It
entirely depends upon what men drink. But, after all, I think I had
better try the cold water; for somehow I have a notion if I try to walk
to Vitell with nothing but brandy in my stomach I shall make the
distance three times as long with zigzags and vagaries."
Thus saying, while Edward mounted, very well pleased with some relief to
his tired legs, Pierrot knelt down by the side of a tolerably deep
little pool formed by the rivulet at the side of the road, and, putting
his lips to the clear water, took a deep draught. Jacques Beaupré,
however, seemed to think that the water had better be applied externally
also, and, giving him a push with his foot, sent him headlong into the
pool.
The good man started up with a furious look; but we have already seen
the singular effect which liquor had upon poor Pierrot la Grange,--an
effect quite contrary to that which it produces on most men. The reader
will not be surprised, then, that, though really angry, Pierrot sought
no vengeance upon his assailant.
Had we time, and were it worth while, I might be inclined to examine
psychologically into this peculiarity of Pierrot's idiosyncrasy; but
suffice it to say that the result probably proceeded from one of two
causes. Nothing cows like shame carried to a certain degree; and Pierrot
at heart was always ashamed of being drunk. On the other hand, as when
he did drink he never stopped at that point where liquor merely
exhilarates, but generally went far enough to deprive both brain and
limbs of vigor, he might feel very doubtful of his capability to combat
an enemy even much weaker than himself.
However that might be, his immersion in cold water produced its usual
effect. I do not say that it sobered him entirely: that would be too
much; but it certainly greatly relieved his head, and gave his limbs a
capability of direct progression which they had not previously
possessed.
"Come, come, Pierrot," said Edward, interrupting him in the midst of
terrible threats against Jacques, "we have no time to lose, my good
friend. Did I not tell you that it is likely that I shall be pursued at
once? We must get to the village as fast as possible, and then ride hard
for the rest of the day, in order to put as great a distance between us
and Coiffy as we can."
"Go on, then; go on," cried Pierrot: "I will come after as fast as I
can. You can be buying a horse and arms in the mean time, if you can
find them. If not, I suppose you must take to _franc étrier_."
Edward took him at his word, and, accompanied by Jacques Beaupré, rode
on, running over in his mind, with his usual quickness, his chances of
escape and the best means of securing it. He did not know, indeed, how
far the local jurisdiction, either as seigneur or Government officer, of
the Count de Bourbonne extended; but he felt certain that, if he could
once get beyond its limits, no other governor or Government officer
would recognise it in opposition to the safe-conduct under the
cardinal's own hand. Speed, therefore, was every thing; and, though he
had neither whip nor spur with him, his light hand and thorough
horsemanship easily kept Pierrot's horse at a swift trot till they
reached the village of Vitell.
France has always been a comfortable country to travel in. Most villages
have always possessed a tolerable inn, though the external man was
sometimes not so well provided for as the internal. But what Edward
principally wanted at that moment was generally in those days to be
found in almost any part of France. People then almost universally
travelled on horseback, and very rarely went without arms. Pistols and a
good sword, therefore, were soon found in Vitell. But a horse took
longer to obtain, not from any want of the commodity,--for there were
plenty of very excellent nags in the town,--but from the invariable and
unextinguishable propensity inherent in horse-dealers to cheat the
chapman, and never to sell a good horse under any circumstances if they
can sell a bad one. Six were brought in succession to the door of the
inn for Edward's inspection, without remaining for more than a minute
before he ordered them away. At length, however, one of the dealers,
perceiving that he had not to do with a novice, as Edward's youth had at
first led him to imagine, thought fit to bring forth from the stable a
beast which, though not very handsome and somewhat vicious,--if not so
great a devil as that which Edward rode from Angers,--was a good
serviceable beast enough. All these things cost but a small sum compared
with the price which we should pay for them in the present day; and
bridle, saddle, and a pair of spurs were quite within the young
gentleman's means.
Pierrot had arrived in time to give his opinion in regard to the
purchase of the horse, and, as he was now sober, that opinion was worth
having. But the first moment he found himself alone with his former
master he was eloquent in his excuses for his relapse; and Edward could
not but admit to himself that, left alone in a great city where he knew
no one, uncertain of his fate from day to day, and with sufficient
money, no poor sinner had ever better cause to plead temptation.
The young Englishman contented himself, however, with telling him that
as he was no longer his master he could pretend to no control over his
conduct.
"Ah, Master Ned," cried the honest fellow, "do not say I am no longer
your servant! Pray, do control me. I am sure I cannot control myself.
You are the only one who ever could; and I do believe if I could but
stay with you for a couple of years I should get over my bad habits. See
what an effect good training had. All the time I was at Nancy, I
declare, I did not drink two quarts till this very morning. Ask Jacques
Beaupré: he will tell you the same; and if you will but let me serve you
for two years you may read my name backward if I ever drink again."
"I am afraid, my good friend," answered Edward, "you would always be
what the Catholics call a relapsed convert. As to serving me two years,
Pierrot, God knows what will become of me before two years are over, and
in the mean time I have little enough money for myself,--and none to
keep a man upon."
"Well, well," cried Pierrot, joyfully, "I will run fortune with you!
Only don't send me away, and don't fire at me any more, unless you see
me drunk,--when it will be natural. But now tell me, Master Ned, where
are you going now?"
"Into the lion's den, Pierrot," replied Edward, with a somewhat rueful
smile: "I am going straight to the Cardinal de Richelieu."
"In the name of Heaven!" exclaimed Pierrot, with a look of astonishment,
"do you know he is now besieging Rochelle with a powerful army? The king
has fallen sick and gone back to Paris. The cardinal has tucked up his
gown and turned soldier; and our poor friends in the city are already,
they say, so badly off for food that they will soon have to eat each
other. The cardinal will not let a mouse stir out, and if any one
ventures beyond the walls they send a shot at him and drive him in
again."
Edward mused without reply for some moments; and, while he was still
silent, Jacques Beaupré came back to the little _salle-à-manger_ and
stood by the young gentleman's side.
"Poor Clement Tournon!" cried Edward, still musing.
"Ay, poor Clement Tournon!" said Jacques Beaupré, in a sad tone: "he is
a good man, sir, and took care of me from my boyhood."
"I would give the world to save him," answered Edward. "Come, let us
ride."
They were soon upon their horses. Edward mounted first and Pierrot last,
having stopped to answer some questions of the host.
"What did he ask you?" said Edward, as they rode on.
"He asked where your lordship was going," answered Pierrot, "and I told
him straight to the cardinal."
"Right," said Edward. "And did he call me lordship, Pierrot? My lordship
is a very small one."
"Ay, sir, but you have got quite a grand air now, though your doublet is
somewhat soiled by dust and wet. You cannot think how you are changed
since we left Nantes. What between riding, and getting stuck, and being
in prison, you have grown broad and brown, and your mustache is an inch
long. Those who saw you before would never know you."
"I hope they will," answered Edward, with a smile followed by a sigh;
"and, as for my doublet, I must get a new one, whenever I can afford to
stop without danger. All my baggage I left with the discreet Monsieur de
Bourbonne. But, if I am not mistaken, Pierrot, I will make him pay all
he owes me before I have done."
"At the pistol's point?" asked Pierrot, with a grim smile.
"No, no," replied Edward,--"in another way, and by other hands. But let
us ride on fast; for I have a great notion the news you left with the
aubergist will sharpen the spurs of any who may be pursuing us."
The whole party accordingly rode forward more quickly, but not at so
headlong a pace as to risk any damage to their horses; and before night
all fear of pursuit was ended by their entrance into another province,
where, at a small walled town, which they reached just after sunset,
Edward was obliged to produce his safe-conduct before the soldiers at
the gates would give them admission.
The officer to whom it was shown, at the first sight of the broad seal
of France and the name of Richelieu, respectfully came out of the
guard-house to bid the bearer welcome, and asked, with great politeness,
where he was going to lodge in the town, and whither his journey was
directed.
"I am going straight to Rochelle, or wherever his Eminence of Richelieu
may be," replied the young Englishman. "As to the place where I shall
lodge, I shall be glad of advice; for I am a stranger here, and must
depart early to-morrow."
"Your horses look tired, sir," said the officer, "and you had better
give them some rest."
"No wonder they are tired," replied the young man; "for we have ridden
from the frontiers of Lorraine, where I was somewhat badly treated, lost
all my baggage, but luckily saved my purse."
"By brigands?" asked the officer.
"No better," answered Edward, somewhat bitterly. "But may I ask you the
way to the best inn?"
The officer, all politeness, sent one of the soldiers to show him the
way; and in a large, comfortable, though somewhat gloomy, old auberge
the young Englishman passed the first night for several months with a
feeling of freedom and security.