except that which shone through the interstices of the partition, and
which enabled her to make out her surroundings. Having made a pretence
of lying down on the pallet, she soon rose and listened intently to what
the robbers said. They continued to drink, and began to sing. If only
she could escape while they were thus engaged! She felt along the wall
until she came to a window; it must open into the forest, and the room
was level with the ground, so that it would be easy to escape that way.
But a moment later her hand came in contact with stout bars, which
prevented her passing through. Poor girl! the pangs of disappointment
were more cruel than all the sufferings she had endured hitherto. When
she believed that she was on the point of recovering her liberty, to
lose that last hope! to be unable to conceive any possible means of
escaping from that horrible den! It was like dying twice over. She fell,
utterly disheartened, on the bed, and tried to stifle with her hands the
groans that escaped from her breast.
XXIV
THE STRANGER
Thus the night passed. The robbers fell asleep in front of the fire;
and, luckily for Sister Anne, their vile housekeeper did the same, and
did not come to share the bed with the poor girl, who lay there all
night, listening intently, quivering at the slightest sound in the next
room, and praying to heaven to send her a rescuer.
At daybreak, the ruffians woke; they hastily concealed their weapons,
then went forth into the forest to work as woodcutters. Before he left,
Leroux went to Sister Anne, smiled at her, patted her under the chin,
and muttered under his breath:
"To-night, my beauty, I'll say a couple of words to you."
The unhappy girl could not evade those disgusting caresses. Not without
an effort did she restrain her indignation. But he went away at last, on
the heels of his companions, bidding Christine to keep a sharp lookout
on her prisoner.
When Sister Anne was alone with the robbers' female confederate, she was
fain to endure the ill humor of that fury, who, being jealous of her
presence there, tried to avenge herself by heaping all sorts of
indignities upon her, being well assured that she could not complain of
them. She laughed at her tears and gestures of entreaty, and the poor
child felt that she would die if she did not escape soon from that
horrible place.
At night, the four men returned; they ate a little, then took their
weapons, Leroux alone excepted.
"Well! don't you propose to go out on the trail with us?" his companions
asked him.
"No, no, not yet; I'll join you later; but I'm glad of the chance to say
a word to my little mute."
As he said this, a bestial smile gleamed in his eyes, which were
constantly fixed upon Sister Anne.
"Oh, yes! I understand," said Pierre; "we'll let it pass to-day, but you
mustn't let love make you forget your duty."
"But if a well-lined post chaise should happen along," said Jacques, "we
shan't be strong enough to attack."
"Bah! it ain't likely that there'll be one to-night; anyway, I tell you
I'll join you soon."
"All right! all right! we'll get along without him; and if some rich
prize does turn up, why, it will belong to us, and he won't get any of
it."
"That's fair enough, mates."
The three men left the cabin, with a mocking glance at the dumb girl,
who did not divine her impending peril, or the meaning of their smile.
But when she saw that Leroux did not accompany them, she shuddered
involuntarily and turned her eyes on Christine, as if she hoped for aid
from her. But she, after glancing at her and at Leroux with the same
mocking smile, went into the other room and slammed the door behind her.
Sister Anne started to follow her, but when she saw that it was
impossible she fell back on the straw on which she had been sitting; she
trembled convulsively; she was alone with the brigand.
Leroux seated himself in front of the fire and poked it; then lighted a
pipe and smoked for several minutes, interrupting his smoking only to
drink and to glance at Sister Anne. She trembled in every limb, in the
corner where she had seated herself in order to be as far as possible
from the robber, whose eyes, as he glanced at her, were inflamed with
lust.
"Damned fine, ten thousand devils!" he cried, from time to time. "Fine
eyes, fine teeth. She'll be even better looking in a few months, but
damn the odds! And those clowns didn't see her! Oh! I won't give her up
to you, my mates! We don't capture such prizes often."
These words added to the poor girl's alarm; it was increased tenfold
when Leroux, who had not remained behind solely to drink and smoke,
motioned to her to come to him. She pretended not to understand, and
lowered her eyes. Thereupon he rose and walked toward her. The girl
could hardly breathe. The brigand threw himself on the straw, beside
her; she tried to rise and go away from him, but he detained her by
force, passing his arm about her waist, and putting his repulsive face
close to hers. The poor girl put her hand before her eyes, so that she
could not see Leroux's.
"Ha! ha! I really believe she's trembling!" he exclaimed, with a roar of
savage laughter. "I promise you, my dear, it don't become you to play
the prude; anyone can see you haven't always been one."
With that, he put his face still nearer to hers, and tried to kiss her
on the lips; but she, summoning all her courage, pushed him away, and,
taking advantage of his surprise, sprang quickly to her feet and ran to
the other end of the room, behind the table on which the robbers ate.
Leroux stared at her in amazement, but in a moment smiled again,
saying:
"Oho! so you're balky, are you? Pretty good! Do you really think of
resisting me?"
He rose and went toward her; with a well-directed kick, he sent the
table to the other end of the room; then, seizing the girl, who
struggled to no purpose, he took her in his arms and carried her back to
the heap of straw. Once more she summoned all her courage, all her
strength, to resist the brigand, who was determined to triumph over her,
and who, after laughing scornfully at her defence, finally became
furious at her obstinate resistance. This pitiful struggle lasted a long
time, but the unfortunate girl felt that her strength was failing her;
tears and sobs suffocated her, and she was on the point of becoming the
victim of the villain who strove to force her, when of a sudden there
was a succession of violent blows on the door of the cabin.
"The devil take anybody who comes just now!" cried Leroux. "Those
fellows have done it on purpose; but I won't let 'em in."
At that moment, he heard a strange voice, which said:
"Open, for God's sake! save me! you shall be handsomely rewarded!"
It was not the voice of any of Leroux's companions. The robber was
surprised beyond words. He listened in terror, while Sister Anne fell on
her knees and thanked heaven for rescuing her.
Christine came hastily from the other room, and ran up to Leroux in
evident perturbation.
"Somebody's knocking, do you hear? It's a strange voice."
"Morbleu! yes, I hear it well enough. Go and look out of the window, and
try to see whether it's just one man."
Christine obeyed, and returned in a moment.
"Yes, he's alone," she said.
"Then let's let him in," said Leroux; "but we must be prudent till our
friends return."
Having replaced the table in the middle of the room, Leroux resumed his
pipe and his seat before the fire, while Christine opened the door of
the hovel to the person who had knocked.
The stranger who appeared in the doorway was an elderly man, whose dress
denoted wealth, and his manners high rank; but he was hatless, his
clothes were in disorder, and the pallor of his cheeks betrayed
agitation and fear. He rushed into the cabin, and did not seem to
breathe freely until he saw the door closed and locked behind him.
"Pardon, pardon, good people!" he said, addressing Leroux and Christine;
"I fear I have disturbed you and interrupted your rest; but by giving me
shelter you save my life."
"How so, monsieur?" said Leroux, with an air of deep interest.
"I have just been attacked, my friends, yonder, on the road that crosses
the forest I was in my carriage, with my servant, and the postilion was
urging the horses. Suddenly a party of robbers came out of the forest;
they rushed to the horses' heads and fired point-blank at the postilion;
the poor fellow fell dead! Having stopped the carriage, they ordered me
and my servant to alight, and one of them got in to search it; while he
was inside, I took advantage of a moment when the villains had not their
eyes on me, and plunged into the forest, selecting the darkest paths; I
succeeded in getting thus far, when I saw this light and knocked at your
door."
"You did well, monsieur," said Leroux, with a significant glance at
Christine. "Sit you down before the fire, and warm yourself and get back
your breath."
"Oh! you are too kind!" said the traveller, seating himself by the
hearth; "but my unfortunate servant--what have they done to him? will
he, too, be their victim?"
"Oh! that ain't likely. They probably let him go, after robbing him.
They only killed the postilion to make him stop. I know their ways;
there's so much robbery in this infernal forest!"
"I ought not to have taken that road; it was out of my way; but I wanted
to see this region."
"Did the rascals rob you, monsieur?"
"No, thank heaven! they were going to do it, no doubt, when I got away.
I have saved my wallet and my purse, at all events."
"You're very lucky, on my word," said Leroux, with another glance at
Christine. "Well, monsieur, you must make the best of it, and try to
forget all about it. We'll do our best for you; for you mustn't think of
leaving here before daylight; that would be very imprudent."
"I have no intention of doing so, if you will allow me to remain."
"Allow you! why, with great pleasure! Come, Christine, be spry! prepare
our guest's supper."
Throughout this conversation, Sister Anne had kept her eyes fixed on the
stranger, whose face, although rather stern, aroused her interest and
respect. She shuddered at the thought that he had escaped one danger
only to fall into another. Knowing now the unmitigated villainy of the
occupants of the hovel, she trembled for the traveller's life, and her
gaze, fastened insistently upon him, seemed to be striving to warn him
of the perils by which he was surrounded.
But the stranger had not yet noticed the dumb girl, who was seated on
the floor in a corner of the room; hardly recovered from his agitation,
he drew nearer to the fire, and rarely removed his eyes from it.
"It's lucky, on my word, that the robbers didn't follow you," said
Leroux, offering the traveller a glass of wine.
"What saved me, I fancy, was this: at the moment I escaped, I heard a
great clatter of hoofs----"
"Oho! you heard the sound of horses?" queried Leroux, uneasily.
"Yes; at least, I thought so. But I was so excited! It may have been
other brigands, or the constables in pursuit of them."
"Yes, that's so; it might have been."
"I served in the army once, but I confess that I don't care for an
encounter with robbers; against such hounds, courage is often of no
avail. Besides, I had no weapons about me."
"Ah! you have no weapons?"
"No; my pistols were in the carriage, but they didn't give me time to
take them."
Leroux seemed to reflect. Since the stranger had said that he had heard
horses on the road, he was less tranquil in his mind.
"You are a woodcutter, I presume?" said the traveller.
"Yes, monsieur; I'm a woodcutter; and this is my wife," said Leroux,
pointing to Christine, who was laying the table for supper.
"Aren't you at all afraid, here in the heart of this forest?"
"Why, what should we be afraid of? We're not rich enough to tempt
robbers. Come, Christine, look alive; monsieur will want to sleep when
he's had his supper."
"Oh! don't hurry her so."
The stranger, having recovered somewhat from his excitement, began to
look about him with more attention; and as he scrutinized the different
parts of the room, he at last observed Sister Anne seated on the heap of
straw, with her eyes fixed upon his with an expression which made it
impossible for him not to notice her. Taken by surprise, he gazed for
some time with interest at the dumb girl's pale, worn features, and
seemed puzzled by the strange way in which she looked at him.
"Who is that girl?" he asked Christine; "I didn't notice her before."
"That! oh! she don't amount to much," replied the tall woman, shortly.
"Isn't she your child?"
"No, monsieur," said Leroux; "she's an unfortunate deaf mute that I
found in the forest; and we took her in from charity. She'll soon be a
mother, and I took pity on her."
"That does you honor, monsieur; the poor thing is so young, and her face
so sweet! Haven't you been able to find out where she came from, or her
name?"
"How in the devil do you suppose one can find out anything from a deaf
and dumb woman? However, it don't make much difference; she's pretty
near an idiot, too, I think; but I'll keep her here."
When she heard this, Sister Anne rose and walked slowly toward the
stranger, still gazing at him with an expression of interest blended
with compassion.
"Well, well! what's she doing?" said Leroux; "the poor girl has surely
lost her reason! Make her go into the other room, Christine; it's time
she went to bed."
Christine pushed the dumb girl roughly toward the door of the rear room.
Sister Anne left the stranger's presence with profound regret; she would
have liked to keep him in sight, because she took the liveliest interest
in his welfare; but she was forced to obey. She walked slowly toward the
door, still looking at the stranger, who seemed touched by the intensity
of her gaze and followed her with his eyes until the door closed upon
her.
Christine went into the rear room with Sister Anne; she looked through
the window, and seemed disturbed by the non-return of the robbers. The
dumb girl lay down on the pallet, not to sleep, but to reflect upon the
means of saving the stranger by warning him of the risk he ran if he
remained in the cabin. How could she gain access to him, and how make
herself understood? At that moment, Leroux entered the room and closed
the door carefully; then he went up to Christine, and, thanks to their
conviction that Sister Anne could not hear them, she was soon made
acquainted with their plans.
"Well! can't you hear them coming?" asked Leroux.
"No; I can't hear anything."
"It's very strange! what can they be doing in the forest since that man
got here? I don't feel easy in my mind; he said something about horses
and constables. Suppose our friends are arrested!"
"The devil! would they sell us?"
"Hark ye! when this stranger's had his supper and gone to sleep, I'll go
out and try to find out something. If the others are in the forest, I
know where to find 'em. If they're taken or gone, we'll take advantage
of the stranger's sleep to make way with him, and with what he has on
him we'll do well to get out of danger ourselves by leaving the forest."
"That's a good idea; give him his supper, and let him go to sleep; and
then, when you come back, we'll go to work. Meanwhile, I'll lie down and
rest a bit."
"Yes, do; don't be afraid but what I'll wake you when I need you."
Leroux went back to the traveller, and the repulsive Christine threw
herself on the bed, beside Sister Anne, who had to endure the close
proximity of a creature whom she knew to be planning a murder with the
most revolting deliberation. But the poor girl did not stir; she had
overheard all the conversation of those monsters, she had not lost a
word of their schemes, and she still hoped to save the stranger. A
single fear oppressed her: that the three robbers would return; for then
all would be lost; she would be compelled to witness the unfortunate
man's death, or to die with him.
Christine was hardly on the bed when a prolonged snore indicated that
she was asleep. Thereupon Sister Anne rose softly and crept to the
partition, where she put her eye to a crack through which she could look
into the other room.
The stranger was tranquilly eating his supper; Leroux strove to
entertain him, but he constantly listened with marked disquietude for
sounds out of doors, and seemed desirous that the traveller should go to
bed at once. Sister Anne was able to observe the old man's features at
her leisure; and the more she looked at him, the stronger grew her
feeling of interest and attachment, which seemed not to be born solely
of his perilous situation. At the slightest noise caused by the wind or
by the falling of a dead branch, the girl shivered in mortal terror,
fancying that it was the three brigands returning; whereas, on the
contrary, Leroux's face would assume a look of satisfaction, as he ran
and listened at the door, hoping to hear his confederates' voices.
"Are you expecting company?" inquired the stranger.
"No, monsieur, no; it's the fear of robbers that makes me keep my ears
open; but I'm beginning to think they haven't followed you; so you can
go to sleep quietly."
"I'll lie down till daybreak; then you will be good enough to guide me
to the nearest village."
"Yes, monsieur, with pleasure; but you can sleep comfortably; it's a
long while to daybreak. This is the only bed I can offer you--fresh
straw; I'm sorry not to be able to give you anything better, but we're
pretty poor!"
"Oh! I shall be very comfortable; don't worry at all about me."
As he spoke, the stranger lay down on the straw and tried to sleep;
while Leroux stood before the fire, turning his head now and again to
see if his guest had fallen asleep. The dumb girl, her eye still glued
to the crack in the partition, did not lose either of them from sight,
and prayed fervently that Christine might not wake.
At last, the traveller seemed to doze, and Leroux went to fetch his
weapons from the cellar, the opening to which was covered by a plank and
concealed by a heap of straw. Sister Anne shuddered; suppose the villain
proposed to murder the old man at once! But, no; having replaced the
board, he stole softly from the cabin, muttering: "I'll go to the usual
place; and if they ain't there, I'll come right back."
He opened the door without a sound, and disappeared. The time to act had
come; the dumb girl summoned all her courage, and stole into the other
room, walking on tiptoe for fear of waking Christine; then she locked
the door securely, to prevent her from coming out in case she should
wake. The room in which the stranger lay asleep was lighted only by the
fire on the hearth. Sister Anne went to him, grasped his arm, and
squeezed it with all her force. The old man woke, and was surprised to
see her bending over him with an expression of the most intense and
painful anxiety on her face. He was about to speak, but she hastily
placed a finger on his lips, and her eyes, as she glanced about in
terror, bade him keep perfectly still. He rose and nervously awaited an
explanation of this mysterious scene.
Sister Anne ran to the cellar, succeeded in raising the opening, took a
blazing brand from the fire, and, motioning to the traveller to come
near, showed him the interior, where there were weapons and garments of
all sorts, the blood with which they were covered sufficiently attesting
the method by which the robbers had come into possession of them. The
stranger shuddered.
"Great God!" he said; "am I in a den of thieves?"
The girl nodded her head, then ran to the pile of straw, and indicated
by signs that they intended to return and murder him while he slept.
The stranger at once took possession of a pair of pistols which he found
near the entrance to the cellar.
"At all events, I will sell my life dearly," he said. "But you, poor
woman, what are you to do?"
Sister Anne interrupted him by running to the door of the cabin,
throwing it open, and making signs that he must fly at once and that she
would go with him. The stranger took her hand, and they left the house.
At that moment, Christine, hearing a noise, rose and tried to leave her
room; when she found that she was locked in, she began to shriek and
call Leroux, and, running to the window, saw the dumb girl and the
stranger just disappearing in the forest.
"Damnation! they've got away!" cried Christine, trying to remove the
bars at the window.
The old man pointed one of his pistols at her; but Sister Anne stopped
him, making him understand that the report would attract the brigands.
Her companion saw that she was right; so they fled, and, leaving the
vile creature hurling curses at them, they were soon far away from the
robbers' lair.
After wandering about the forest more than an hour, trembling at the
slightest sound, lest they should fall in with Leroux and his
confederates, the fugitives heard the steps of several horses. That
could be nothing but the constabulary in search of the brigands. The
dumb girl and the stranger started in the direction of the sound. Soon a
man passed them, running at full speed; it was Leroux, with a horseman
in pursuit. Another man on horseback followed, and, when he saw Sister
Anne's companion, cried: "Here's my master! Thank heaven, the scoundrels
didn't kill him!"
The traveller pointed out to the officers the abode of the brigands;
then, mounting a horse that his servant was leading, he took the dumb
girl _en croupe_ who had saved his life, and they rode rapidly out of
the forest.
The traveller did not cease to express his gratitude to his liberatress,
while she thanked God that she was no longer in the power of the
robbers.
The servant told his master that, a few moments after he had fled into
the forest, the constables appeared, and the outlaws thought of nothing
but escape; but two of them were overtaken, and were killed while
resisting capture. Thereupon, taking the horses, which had already been
unhitched from the chaise, the servant had mounted one and joined the
constables who were searching the forest, hoping to find his master.
A danger passed is soon forgotten. They arrived at a large village, and
the travellers knocked at the door of a farmhouse, where they were made
welcome and received every attention. The dumb girl was especially in
need of speedy assistance. The horrible situation in which she had been
placed for two days, the danger she had barely escaped, the superhuman
effort she had made during that ghastly night--all these things together
had been too much for the unfortunate child, who was hardly able to
stand erect. They put her in a warm bed; the people at the farm, when
they learned of her condition and of what she had done to save the aged
traveller, manifested the most sympathetic interest in her, and her
companion would not go to bed until he was certain that everything
possible had been done for his liberatress.
The next day, the carriage, which had been found on the road, was
brought to the farm, and there was nothing to prevent the stranger from
continuing his journey; but Sister Anne was in a high fever, and he was
unwilling to leave her until he was assured that her life was in no
danger. The best physician in the neighborhood was summoned; the
stranger spent money lavishly to provide her with everything that her
condition demanded. He passed a large part of the day in her room,
adding his attentions to those of the farmer's family.
Sister Anne was conscious of all that he did for her, and her heart was
deeply touched. Despite her weakness and suffering, she seized his hand
and pressed it gratefully.
"Poor woman!" said the stranger, profoundly affected; "I will not leave
you until my mind is at rest concerning your life. I would have liked to
take you to your destination, in my carriage. What can I do for you? You
can hear me, I see; so that you are deprived of the power of speech
only. Do you know how to write?"
Sister Anne shook her head; then she seemed suddenly to remember
something, and made a movement with her hand as if she were trying to
form letters. The old man handed her a pen, but she could not use it;
then he gave her a piece of chalk; whereupon she sat up in bed, leaned
over a table that stood beside it, and succeeded, not without a mighty
effort, in writing the name _Frédéric_ with the chalk. That done, she
pointed to it and sadly shook her head, as if to say:
"That is all I know."
The old man seemed greatly surprised when he read the name she had
written on the table. He reflected a moment, then looked at Sister Anne
with renewed interest; but it seemed to her that the expression of his
eyes was less gentle, that there was in it a touch of sternness which
she could not define.
"And your own name," he said; "can't you write that?"