De Lacy looked at us strangely. "It is from her that the chateau got its
new name Rougemont--_Red Mountain_. Before that, it was called Hotel
d'Harcourt. Mademoiselle Helene was very beautiful, as you can see,
_Messieurs_, and she had many suitors. At last, from among them, she
chose an English lord. One of the discarded lovers, Black George--_le
Georges Noir_--vowed that she should not belong to the Englishman, or
ever leave Rougemont.
"She laughed, Mademoiselle Helene, and her father, the Lord d'Harcourt,
laughed too, for he had many men at arms and was rich and powerful.
Black George did not laugh, he only set his lips grimly. The wedding day
came and the beautiful Helene married the English lord in the great
hall, but just as he took her in his arms for the nuptial kiss, there
arose a great noise outside. It was Black George attacking the chateau.
"The English lord, with Helene's kiss warm upon his lips, went forth to
battle. There was a fight such as these peaceful lands had never seen,
and the mountain ran red with blood. Black George was the victor. He
slew the Englishman, he slew the Lord of Harcourt, and his men hacked to
pieces the defenders of the chateau.
"Black George, followed by his men, their swords red with blood, came
into the great hall where Helene d'Harcourt sat on the throne, her face
whiter than her wedding dress. Black George flung her lover's body at
her feet, and the women of the household who were crouched about the
throne cried aloud with terror. The fair Helene did not cry, nor did she
moan; she only looked straight at Black George, and there was that in
her gaze that silenced everyone in the great hall; even Black George
stepped back a pace.
"Then Helene d'Harcourt rose and went down to her love, the English lord
who for a brief moment had been her husband. She knelt beside him and
kissed his cold lips; then she took her wedding veil and laid it over
his body.
"All the while there was silence in the great hall, while men and women
watched the slim girl say farewell to the man she loved. They watched
almost as though they were under a spell. But as the veil fell into
place, Black George laughed a long laugh that rang through the room;
then he turned to his followers, and cried loudly, 'The women are
yours--take them as you will, all but that one who belongs to me.' He
gestured toward Helene and laughed again.
"Helene d'Harcourt stood erect and pointed her slender hand at Black
George. 'Wait,' she cried, and there was a quality in her voice that
made her listeners tremble. 'I shall belong to no one until my lover
comes for me, and till he comes, wo to you, Black George, who are well
named! Wo to you and to all men, for I curse you with a mighty curse,
the curse of a broken heart. And I curse all men for their black and
bitter deeds. Year after year, century after century, I will take my
vengeance for the wrongs I have suffered, and no man shall be free until
my lover comes again and we find bliss together.'
"And while the eyes of the whole hall were riveted upon her, she plunged
the dagger she had taken from her lover's belt into her heart. For a
second she stood swaying; then she crumpled and fell beside the English
lord.
"Black George caught her and held her in his arms. 'My curse upon you,
Black George!' she cried.
[Illustration: "My curse upon you, Black George," she cried.]
"Black George could also curse--'Never shall you leave Rougemont to find
your lover, and never shall he come, until----' and then his voice died
away as her head fell backward over his arm. The fair Helene was beyond
his reach.
"For a minute more the people in the great hall were paralyzed by the
force of the terrible words that they had heard, but with the girl's
death they were released from the spell and a fury swept over the men.
They rushed upon the women and dragged them forth. Black George took
Helene's body and carried it away, but where he buried her no one knew,
nor could any discover; for the next day he was found in the great hall
raving mad, and the people said that Helene's curse was a potent one,
that already it had wreaked vengeance on the one who had wronged her
most.
"From that day, the chateau was called Rougemont. The d'Harcourts were
all dead and the place fell into other hands. Then there grew up the
rumor that the chateau was haunted, that the fair Helene roamed through
its halls, cut off from her lover, and doomed to stay within these walls
by Black George's curse."
* * * * *
De Lacy silent, Wrexler and I looked at the portrait. My own feelings
were in a turmoil. It had been a ghost's lips that had touched me last
night; yet surely no ghosts could have been so beautiful or seemed so
real.
Wrexler turned to me, "It would be the curse that has always been upon
me that when I fell in love it would be with a ghost!" His eyes were
vivid, shining brightly in his pale face. "I knew when I saw her on the
stairway that I loved her."
"There is a rumor," said de Lacy, "that the man who sees the fair Helene
will meet with some misadventure, unless she gives him a kiss. Then he
is protected from her wrath."
I started. Wrexler smiled. "She kissed me with her eyes. I am not
afraid."
"The fair Helene makes men suffer to make up for the wrong Black George
did her. For years she has not been seen at Rougemont. Last night when
you described her, I was afraid. My lord," de Lacy turned to me, "send
your friend away. If she only looked at him and smiled, there is a grave
and deadly danger for him, more deadly because it may be unexplainable.
Men upon whom the fair Helene has smiled have met strange deaths."
As Wrexler looked up at the portrait, an inward light illumined his
countenance. "I am not afraid," he repeated.
"There are many deaths. There is the death of the spirit as well as that
of the body. I beg you to go while there is time, friend of my lord."
There was real feeling in de Lacy's voice.
I too felt afraid for Wrexler. The strange, unworldly feeling he had
always had, the pulling toward something he knew not what, made me
doubly fearful. Had the fair Helene been calling him all this time,
across the world? For myself I had no fear. She had kissed me, and
besides, even death at her hands would have been preferable to never
seeing her again. In these last few minutes I had realized that I too
was in love with Helene, that I could hardly wait for the night, in
hopes that she might visit me again.
Resolutely I put my own feelings in the background, for at the moment
Wrexler was of paramount importance. If there was anything in de Lacy's
story--and from my own experience I was sure there was--Wrexler was in
danger. I turned to him. "If anything happened to you, I could never
forgive myself. Perhaps you'd better go. I could arrange a trip for you,
and later--meet you."
Somehow de Lacy seemed one of us. I had no hesitancy in speaking before
him. He seemed a part of my new life. With the strange suddenness that
comes on rare occasions, we were already friends.
Wrexler looked at me, then back at the portrait. Helene d'Harcourt, her
red hair gleaming, smiled down upon us. Before he spoke, I knew what he
would say, because in his place I would have said the same, "Unless you
kick me out, I want to stay."
I put my hand on Wrexler's shoulder. "So be it. Come along, let's see
the library, then we'll know all of Rougemont. We've seen everything
else."
Wrenching his eyes away from the portrait, Wrexler followed us.
The library was beautiful, with paneled walls that had rows and rows of
books sunk in their depths. There was a long, oaken table, and on the
center of it stood a carved, gilded box, the casket which held my
father's letter. I wished then that I could read it at once. I wish now
that I could have, but perhaps it is better that I did not; at least
things moved as the fates ordained, and the responsibility for what
occurred was not mine.
* * * * *
The next three days were quiet, happy ones. Nothing occurred. I had no
ghostly visitant and Wrexler saw nothing of Helene. Under de Lacy's
expert guidance, we rode over the estate, hunted with falcons, a
pleasing sport which we both took to our hearts; mingled with my court,
found the people charming and highly cultivated. We took lessons in the
old dances, visited the manor houses. It was all very gay and amusing,
and I had no longing for the outside world. I did not even go down to
the lodge for news.
There were many details of the estate management that I had to go into
with de Lacy. We spent several hours each morning going over the affairs
of Rougemont. It was virtually a small kingdom, and everything was
referred to me.
Necessarily, the time I spent with de Lacy on such matters, Wrexler was
alone. He had changed a great deal since we had come to Rougemont. He
had come alive, and he threw himself into everything with a curious
intensity. He was like a person who has been very ill, who suddenly
finding himself better and fearing it is only temporary, clutches life
with both hands. He devoted long hours to reading the records of the
d'Harcourts, until he knew the family history as well as his own.
I did not mention Helene, although there was seldom a moment when she
was out of my thoughts. I found myself watching for her day and night,
and I caught the same tension in Wrexler's eyes as he searched the
shadows.
The third night she came again, not to me, but to Wrexler; and although
he was my friend, I almost hated him because he had seen her and I had
not. He told me next morning as we walked along the lake shore.
"Jim," he said suddenly, "I saw her last night. She came to my room. She
drew aside the curtains of the bed, and leaned over me. I can't describe
my sensations. It was almost as though life were suspended in
space--like a bridge over a timeless sea."