CHAPTER XXI.

I SEE THREE MEN IN A MIRROR.

I awoke very early next morning, and was too excited to sleep

again. As soon as I could, without exciting remark, I saw my

host. I told him that I was going into town that night, and

thence to ----, where I had to see some people on business, and

requested him to mention my being there to any friend who might

call. That I expected to be back in about a week, and that in the

meantime my servant, St. Clair, would keep the key of my room,

and look after my things.

Having prepared this mystification for my landlord, I drove into

Paris, and there transacted the financial part of the affair. The

problem was to reduce my balance, nearly thirty thousand pounds,

to a shape in which it would be not only easily portable, but

available, wherever I might go, without involving correspondence,

or any other incident which would disclose my place of residence,

for the time being. All these points were as nearly provided for

as they could be. I need not trouble you about my arrangements

for passports. It is enough to say that the point I selected for

our flight was, in the spirit of romance, one of the most

beautiful and sequestered nooks in Switzerland.

Luggage, I should start with none. The first considerable town we

reached next morning, would supply an extemporized wardrobe. It

was now two o'clock; _only_ two! How on earth was I to dispose of

the remainder of the day?

I had not yet seen the cathedral of Notre Dame; and thither I drove. I

spent an hour or more there; and then to the Conciergerie, the Palais de

Justice, and the beautiful Sainte Chapelle. Still there remained some

time to get rid of, and I strolled into the narrow streets adjoining the

cathedral. I recollect seeing, in one of them, an old house with a mural

inscription stating that it had been the residence of Canon Fulbert, the

uncle of Abelard's Eloise. I don't know whether these curious old

streets, in which I observed fragments of ancient gothic churches fitted

up as warehouses, are still extant. I lighted, among other dingy and

eccentric shops, upon one that seemed that of a broker of all sorts of

old decorations, armour, china, furniture. I entered the shop; it was

dark, dusty, and low. The proprietor was busy scouring a piece of inlaid

armour, and allowed me to poke about his shop, and examine the curious

things accumulated there, just as I pleased. Gradually I made my way to

the farther end of it, where there was but one window with many panes,

each with a bull's-eye in it, and in the dirtiest possible state. When I

reached this window, I turned about, and in a recess, standing at right

angles with the side wall of the shop, was a large mirror in an

old-fashioned dingy frame. Reflected in this I saw, what in old houses I

have heard termed an "alcove," in which, among lumber, and various dusty

articles hanging on the wall, there stood a table, at which three

persons were seated, as it seemed to me, in earnest conversation. Two of

these persons I instantly recognized; one was Colonel Gaillarde, the

other was the Marquis d'Harmonville. The third, who was fiddling with a

pen, was a lean, pale man, pitted with the small-pox, with lank black

hair, and about as mean-looking a person as I had ever seen in my life.

The Marquis looked up, and his glance was instantaneously followed by

his two companions. For a moment I hesitated what to do. But it was

plain that I was not recognized, as indeed I could hardly have been, the

light from the window being behind me, and the portion of the shop

immediately before me, being very dark indeed.

Perceiving this, I had presence of mind to affect being entirely

engrossed by the objects before me, and strolled slowly down the

shop again. I paused for a moment to hear whether I was followed,

and was relieved when I heard no step. You may be sure I did not

waste more time in that shop, where I had just made a discovery

so curious and so unexpected.

It was no business of mine to inquire what brought Colonel

Gaillarde and the Marquis together, in so shabby, and even dirty

a place, or who the mean person, biting the feather end of his

pen, might be. Such employments as the Marquis had accepted

sometimes make strange bed-fellows.

I was glad to get away, and just as the sun set, I had reached the steps

of the Dragon Volant, and dismissed the vehicle in which I arrived,

carrying in my hand a strong box, of marvellously small dimensions

considering all it contained, strapped in a leather cover, which

disguised its real character.

When I got to my room, I summoned St. Clair. I told him nearly

the same story, I had already told my host. I gave him fifty

pounds, with orders to expend whatever was necessary on himself,

and in payment for my rooms till my return. I then eat a slight

and hasty dinner. My eyes were often upon the solemn old clock

over the chimney-piece, which was my sole accomplice in keeping

tryste in this iniquitous venture. The sky favoured my design,

and darkened all things with a sea of clouds.

The innkeeper met me in the hall, to ask whether I should want a

vehicle to Paris? I was prepared for this question, and instantly

answered that I meant to walk to Versailles, and take a carriage

there. I called St. Clair.

"Go," said I, "and drink a bottle of wine with your friends. I

shall call you if I should want anything; in the meantime, here

is the key of my room; I shall be writing some notes, so don't

allow any one to disturb me, for at least half an hour. At the

end of that time you will probably find that I have left this for

Versailles; and should you not find me in the room, you may take

that for granted; and you take charge of everything, and lock the

door, you understand?"

St. Clair took his leave, wishing me all happiness and no doubt

promising himself some little amusement with my money. With my

candle in my hand, I hastened upstairs. It wanted now but five

minutes to the appointed time. I do not think there is anything

of the coward in my nature; but I confess, as the crisis

approached, I felt something of the suspense and awe of a soldier

going into action. Would I have receded? Not for all this earth

could offer.

I bolted my door, put on my great coat, and placed my pistols,

one in each pocket. I now applied my key to the secret locks;

drew the wainscot-door a little open, took my strong box under my

arm, extinguished my candle, unbolted my door, listened at it

for a few moments to be sure that no one was approaching, and

then crossed the floor of my room swiftly, entered the secret

door, and closed the spring lock after me. I was upon the

screw-stair in total darkness, the key in my fingers. Thus far

the undertaking was successful.

In a Glass Darkly, v. 2/3 · 第 21 / 23 章