HER BEST BELOVED
I considered within myself whether it were not my duty to confide to
Count Saxe the fact that Francezka was Gaston's wife, and I quickly
concluded that it was my duty. And so one night, sitting at the
writing table, I told him the story of Francezka's and Gaston's love.
Count Saxe listened to me attentively.
"So, my lady Francezka takes the bit between her teeth and marries the
man of her choice. Well, any one might safely have predicted as much.
It is a good thing, though, that her fancy turned to Gaston instead of
Regnard Cheverny, for Gaston is much the better man. But it is
impossible--I say, Babache, it is impossible--that Gaston Cheverny
should not shortly reappear."
When Count Saxe used the word impossible, I knew for the first time he
felt a poignant doubt and anxiety.
"And how shall Madame Cheverny be informed?" I asked.
"As Gaston Cheverny's coolness saved me from the consequences of my
own rashness--for look you, Babache, I was rash, and showed all the
qualities of a bad general in remaining here practically unguarded--it
is as little as I can do to have the news of his disappearance gently
conveyed to his wife. So, be prepared to ride for Brabant by the day
after to-morrow if nothing be heard of Gaston Cheverny by that time."
My heart leaped and then sank into an abyss. I should see Francezka,
but what news should I carry to her!
"It would be well," added Count Saxe, "that Regnard Cheverny be
formally notified of his brother's disappearance, that he may assist
in the search."
Which was done, a special messenger taking the letter to Prince
Eugene's headquarters, from whence it would be forwarded to Regnard
Cheverny.
I made my preparations next day to leave the following morning, for I
felt an inward painful conviction that nothing would be heard that day
of Gaston Cheverny. Count Saxe gave me leave to remain as many days in
Brabant as necessary, and if Francezka wished to return with me, I was
to escort her. Such was the generous nature of the man. I took with me
that last letter Gaston had written, but his other papers and
belongings I left under my master's care, hoping--but alas! not
believing--that before I returned Gaston Cheverny would have been
found. I rode hard on that journey, and on the fifth evening after
leaving Hueningen, about ten o'clock, I reached the chateau of Capello.
It had been less than a month since I had left Francezka full of hope
and joy, and I had come now to rob her of all except hope.
Although it was the fragrant time of the year, the evening was chill,
with a fine, cold rain falling. The lights were still burning in the
little yellow room where Francezka usually sat.
My knock at the great door of the chateau sounded to me like the crack
of doom. Old Peter opened the door, and by some magic of thought, he
saw at a glance that I was a messenger of evil. Without a word, he led
me to the yellow saloon, and announced in a trembling voice, which was
a warning in itself:
"Here, Madame, is Captain Babache."
Francezka was alone, but not without companionship. The dog Bold lay
at her feet. Her harpsichord was open, a book lay by her on the table,
and her fingers were busily employed on some fine needlework, for she
was an expert needlewoman. I had schooled my countenance, but I verily
believe, without levity, that there is something sinister in extreme
ugliness, and it was that which gave old Peter the warning of evil,
and also Francezka. As she heard my name, she sprang up, her vivid
face breaking into a smile like sunlight, and she cried, in her sweet
and penetrating voice:
"Oh, Babache, how glad I am to see you! And how is my lord? And where
is the letter, for surely he has written me."
I handed her silently the letter I had found on Gaston's table. She
snatched it from my hand, kissed the signature, and read it and
re-read it, smiling joyfully all the while; then, for the first time,
looking closely at me, her smile faded, her eyes grew anxious, and
stepping forward, she laid her hand on my arm. She said not one word,
but her eyes commanded me to speak. She told me afterward that the
look in my face frightened her so that she could hardly stand. But I,
obeying the command in her eyes, told her every word concerning Gaston
that I knew. She heard me to the end, and I could see that like all
really courageous persons, she grew calmer as the danger got closer.
When I had finished, she said to me in a steady voice:
"And you say, Babache, there is not the smallest evidence that my
husband is dead?"
"Not the least, Madame. Not a handkerchief belonging to him has been
found. There is a boom at the narrowest part of the river, below
Hueningen, which would stop the body of a ferret, much less a man's,
and nothing has been found there."
She drew a long breath of relief, and sat down, leaning her head on
her hand--a favorite attitude of hers. The dog Bold, knowing as well
as I that Francezka was troubled, lay down at her feet, and licked the
half-open hand that hung at her side. I then told her that Count Saxe
had directed me to place myself at her service.
"How good that was of him!" she said. "And you, of all persons, would
be the most helpful to me, for, of course, I intend myself to go in
search of my husband. Has Regnard been notified of Gaston's
disappearance?"
I replied that he had, but so far no word had come from him. Francezka
reflected a little while. Then she said:
"Babache, you are the best and truest of souls, and are my chief
dependence. But I think it would be an abuse of Count Saxe's
indulgence to keep you here. I can not, as Mademoiselle Capello, go in
search of Gaston Cheverny. I shall have to assemble my friends and
neighbors and announce to them my marriage. Then I shall provide
myself with a stout traveling chaise and travel to Hueningen, and
search and search until I find my best beloved."
I had often remarked upon the natural good sense which was the basis
of Francezka's character, and saw at once the justness of her course.
"So," she said, bravely recovering her cheerfulness, "you will remain
here to rest, and you shall leave when you like and I will follow you
within the week."
I explained, however, that if I were at liberty to return at once I
should go back to Brussels that very night and start for the Rhine
country next morning. To this she agreed, when she saw I had reason on
my side, but before I went she made me sup, and had brought out for me
a bottle of the true lachrymae christi, of which her father had laid in
a small store at a great price. By midnight I had said farewell to
Francezka and was again in the saddle.
As I rode through the blackness and solitariness of the night I could
but reflect upon the extraordinary courage and constancy of women when
really put to the test. Francezka was the last woman in the world to
be weak in the face of calamity. She had in her the making of ten good
soldiers, including a general.
My master was at Philipsburg with his command when I again saw him. He
was assisting the Duke of Berwick in the siege of that important
place. I did not need to ask him if there was any news of Gaston
Cheverny; I saw at the first glance there was none.
The siege went on steadily. We had in our army too many "red heels"
and _tourlourous_. The red heels were those luxurious and worthless
young gentlemen sent us in chaises from the court, who had not one
single idea of a soldier in their empty heads, and who were fit for
nothing but to lead the forlorn hope, waving their swords frantically,
and bawling "Follow me!" The _tourlourous_ were the raw levies, of
whom we had more than was quite comfortable. To balance this, Prince
Eugene had in his army eighty royal princes, which in itself was
enough to account for the strange paralysis of this active old
general.
But a dreadful misfortune lay in store for us. On the twelfth of June,
at nine o'clock in the morning, Marshal, Duke of Berwick, while
standing upon the banquette, and directing the captain of the siege,
was struck by a cannon ball--whether French or Austrian, was never
known--and was blown to pieces. In an instant of time he had made the
whole journey from this country into the other one, and suffered not
one pang. He had made twenty-nine campaigns, and had commanded in
fifteen, and had never had his skin broken. Glory holds an invisible
shield before her children. Caesar was never wounded, nor Pompey, nor
Charlemagne, nor Henry IV, nor any of the great generals of Louis XIV.
But sometimes, the days of a warrior being accomplished, he is
accorded death upon the Bed of Honor, as it was anciently called. The
great Constable de Bourbon never received but one wound, and that his
death wound, while leading the assault. Old Marshal Villars, lying at
the age of eighty on his deathbed, said, when he heard how the Duke of
Berwick had been called higher: "That man was ever lucky."
The sorrow and confusion brought about by this terrible loss is not
to be described. But the soldiers, infuriated by the death of the
great marshal, demanded Philipsburg as a sacrifice to his ashes, and
the siege was conducted with the greatest fury.
Within three weeks from the time I had parted from Francezka in
Brabant I received a message from her. She was at a little village,
three miles from Philipsburg, and desired to see me.
I had no difficulty in getting away, and I reached the village where
Francezka was, in the late afternoon. It was a small, peaceful place,
lying in the lap of the hills, and the inn on the outskirts of it was
plain, but comfortable. When I rode up, Francezka was awaiting me on
the balcony of her room. Her traveling chaise was in the tavern yard,
and I caught sight of Peter, with two men servants, and Elizabeth,
Francezka's maid.
As always, Francezka seemed glad to see me. She knew I had no news of
Gaston, and only asked me if search was still kept up for him. I told
her yes, and that Count Saxe had increased the already large reward
offered for news of Gaston. Also I told her that we were well
convinced Gaston must be on the farther side of the Rhine; I did not
say "if alive." I could not, with Francezka's lovely, miserable eyes
upon me. But she was perfectly calm and collected. I never saw her
more entirely mistress of herself.
I then asked her of her own affairs since we had parted. She told me
that she had thought best to make the announcement of her marriage as
public and as ceremonious as possible, and for that reason had
invited all of the most considerable people of the neighborhood to
the chateau of Capello on a certain day. She told me--poor, unhappy
Francezka--that in anticipation of a gala when Gaston should return,
she had prepared handsome new liveries for all her servants, and had
refurnished the red saloon, and had hung the Diana gallery with
mirrors. These things she determined to display on the day she made
the announcement.
"For, in spite of my heavy misfortune in not knowing where my husband
is, it must ever be a day of congratulation and of honor with me when
I tell the world that I am Gaston Cheverny's wife," she said proudly.
She had written to the Bishop of Louvain with her own hand, but by
some accident he had heard before receiving the letter that Francezka
was privately married--only that Count Bellegarde, his relative, was
the happy man, instead of Gaston Cheverny. The bishop, pleased at his
nephew's good fortune, wrote Francezka a letter of congratulation,
warmly approving her marriage, and most indulgent toward the secrecy
of it. But on receiving Francezka's letter, saying she was Gaston
Cheverny's wife, the bishop changed his tune and sent Francezka a
fulmination, in which he denounced the secrecy of the marriage
excessively. To this Francezka replied, saying as the bishop was so
incensed with her, she would reconsider a considerable gift she had
intended making toward building the new wing of the palace, to which
Madame Riano was so much opposed. This brought the bishop down on his
marrow bones. Francezka, in spite of her trouble, was still Francezka,
and a gleam of her old humor shone in her eyes when she told of the
bishop's discomfiture, and especially that the threatened withdrawal
of the gift was the suggestion of Father Benart, the bishop's brother.
I always knew the little priest was not devoid of either sense or
humor.
When the day came Francezka said she was so torn with emotions she
could scarcely go through with it, but pride and devotion to Gaston
Cheverny held her up. And a great piece of good fortune befell her at
the crucial moment--Madame Riano arrived unexpectedly from Scotland.
Another gleam of humor shot from Francezka's eyes when she told me
that Madame Riano claimed to have had supernatural information in
Scotland that a Kirkpatrick was in trouble, which brought her home;
but Francezka thought that Madame Riano had by that time grown a
little tired of her sojourn in the land of Goshen, as she represented
Scotland to be. At all events, her coming was of extraordinary good
fortune to Francezka; for having countenanced the marriage, and
advised secrecy, Madame Riano could do no less than sustain
Francezka.
"I made the announcement myself," said Francezka, "standing at the top
of the Diana gallery, with the Bishop of Louvain on one side of me, my
aunt on the other, and Father Benart, with Madame Chambellan, behind
me, and before fifty persons of the highest quality I could gather
together. I dressed myself splendidly for the occasion and wore all my
jewels, and I don't think, Babache, that there was any note of apology
in my voice for having married Gaston Cheverny. I told of his gallant
ruse to save Count Saxe, of his being carried off, and being lost
sight of, and of my determination to go in search of him. I felt,
rather than saw, in the beginning, that many of those present were
hostile to me, and did not cordially approve my course, but before I
finished speaking there was a subtile change, a warming toward me.
When I had concluded, the Sieur de Montigny, eighty years old, arose
and expressed for the company heartfelt wishes that I might find my
husband, and that we might live long in joy and peace together."
Yes, it was easily understood how courage and devotion in the person
of Francezka, with her eloquent voice and eyes to plead for her, had
won her the victory over these people.
"The ordeal had begun for me most painfully, but it ended most
hopefully. Surely if all those people believed that Gaston would be
found, it was not for me, his wife, to give way to despair. Just as at
the hour of our marriage, a storm had come up, followed by a clear and
beautiful evening, so, on the morning of the day of which I have been
telling you, rain fell, and a cold northeast wind made the June day as
dreary as November. But while I was speaking I caught the gleam of the
sun upon the canal, under the windows, and suddenly the day became
inexpressibly beautiful; so I think, Babache, that my day and Gaston's
will yet be sunshiny."
With this Francezka's face grew almost gay, but it was a lightning
flash; it was not the steady and cheerful hope I had seen in her eyes
when she told me first of her marriage.
She further told me that she was accompanied on her travels by Madame
Chambellan for the sake of propriety; but beyond securing Madame
Chambellan's comfort, I do not fancy that Francezka concerned herself
further. This good, insipid, incapable lady was not a person to
uphold any one, and answered Francezka's requirement for a lay figure
perfectly.
I asked after my old friend Bold. Him, she said, she had left behind,
not being minded to take the chances of traveling with him.
"And if Gaston should reach Capello while I am away he will have at
least one faithful heart to greet him," she said.
Madame Riano remained at the chateau, and Francezka spoke with
gratitude of her courage and sympathy, which were never wanting in a
good cause. I returned to camp by nightfall and reported to Count
Saxe. Next day he went with me to pay his respects to Francezka and to
concert with her any plan she might desire for the prosecution of the
search. Francezka received us with her old grace and dignity, and
blushed with pleasure at Count Saxe's tribute to Gaston Cheverny.
"And apart from my affection for Monsieur Cheverny," he said, "I feel
myself peculiarly obliged to use every means to find him. We can not
afford to lose such a man as your husband, Madame Cheverny."
Francezka thanked Count Saxe, and then sitting down at a table, we
discussed pros and cons. The extent of the search which had already
been made for Gaston seemed to frighten Francezka a little, but she
bravely rallied. She said to Count Saxe that her whole fortune should
be spent, if necessary, in this quest for her husband. Then Francezka
told him of a new plan she had--to search all the Austrian prisons. It
was by no means improbable that Gaston Cheverny, wandering about in
his French uniform, and dazed with his wound, might have fallen in
with Austrians, who would send him away with other chance prisoners.
This was so plausible a theory that Count Saxe was much struck with
it, and said to Francezka:
"Madame, you would be a much better general than I, if once you would
put your keen wit to the business."
Francezka smiled with pleasure. No sorrow nor anxiety that ate into
her soul could keep her from relishing a compliment from so great a
man as Count Saxe. My master, however, gently put before her the
discomforts and dangers that might lie before her. Francezka only
looked at him calmly and replied:
"Discomfort and danger are nothing to a woman in comparison with her
best beloved."
Count Saxe said not one word further to discourage her, but, on the
contrary, set himself seriously to work to help her. He offered to get
letters from many royal and noble persons and officers of rank in both
armies. Francezka, in thanking him, said, with tears in her eyes:
"I realize at this moment that I am, for the present, strangely alone
in the world. I know not whom to advise with, except you, Count Saxe,
and my good Babache. I know, however, one thing which is necessary to
me, and that is, Babache. When you are not actually fighting, will you
not lend me Babache, to help me search until I find my husband?"
"Madame," replied Count Saxe, "I do not lend him to you--I give him to
you as long as you need him. He is the most valuable possession I have
on earth; therefore you may measure my regard for you."
They both rose--so did I--and Francezka turned her cheek to Count
Saxe, who kissed her reverently. Let those sneer at Count Saxe who
will, about his Mademoiselle Verieres, his Duchesse de Bouillon and
the rest. I say no one respected a woman of honor more than Count
Saxe. He was bewitched by Francezka's beauty, tears and devotion, and
he began to tell her of so many officers, supposed to be lost in war,
who had returned, sometimes after long years, to their friends, that
he fixed the idea in Francezka's head, Gaston _must_ return. I said to
him afterward, privately, that Francezka's determined belief that
Gaston would be found would be unalterable after this conversation.
Count Saxe looked a little disturbed, but striking his forehead, cried
out:
"Babache, I swear I knew not half I was saying; I saw only distressed
beauty, faithful and devoted, and I would have perjured my soul to
comfort her!"
It was concluded, at this conference, that as soon as Philipsburg
fell, I was to accompany Francezka and Madame Chambellan to Prince
Eugene's headquarters, and if necessary to Vienna, that the plan of
looking for Gaston Cheverny in the Austrian prisons might be carried
out.
We returned to our stations before Philipsburg, but I had several
opportunities of seeing Francezka in the next few weeks. She posted
large rewards for news of Gaston Cheverny, but not one single person
appeared to claim them.
Philipsburg fell on the eighteenth of July. As soon as this was
accomplished the campaign became perfunctory. In August, everything
had simmered down, and actually the Crown Prince of Prussia, with some
of the other too numerous princes in Prince Eugene's army, were given
passports to visit the French camp. This young Crown Prince of
Prussia, afterward known as Frederick the Great, was the same one who
had so much admired Francezka at the camp of Radewitz, four years
before. Count Saxe suggested that Francezka should see him, and ask,
through him, the help of the Prussians in her search.
On the day of this visit, therefore, a beautiful August forenoon,
after a whole mob of princes had been entertained by the Duc de
Noailles and other officers of high rank, Count Saxe invited to his
tent the Crown Prince of Prussia. This tent was of purple and white
silk, and was very luxurious; but luxury did not prevent Count Saxe
from being a soldier as hardy as those old Greeks, who furiously
chased and fought their enemies over the windy plains of Troy.
I had seen the crown prince many times at Radewitz. He always bore on
his countenance some indications of greatness: the clear, steel blue
eye of him, the forehead of a man born a captain. But at Radewitz his
old brute of a father had treated him worse than a dog. Like his
friend, Voltaire, he had been caned more than once. Now, times were
better with him; but no man ever submitted to have a cane laid on his
back without bearing marks upon his character long after the marks on
his skin had disappeared. When I was a private soldier I always
carried around my neck a little bag which contained my few treasures,
and one of these treasures was a bullet for the sergeant who should
order a lash laid on me. No sergeant ever ordered this.
When the crown prince was seated in Count Saxe's tent I went and
fetched Francezka, who appeared with Madame Chambellan as her _dame
de compagnie_. Francezka was dressed in the Spanish fashion that
day--the costume was black, and I think she felt a distaste for gay
colors, and meanwhile, she would not assume mourning; so this Spanish
mantilla, which she wore with a grace inherited from her Spanish
mother, well became her. The crown prince received her amiably,
recalled their previous acquaintance at Radewitz, and repeated Count
Saxe's compliments to Gaston Cheverny. At this, Francezka's face,
which was a little pale, grew red with gratified pride. She asked the
crown prince's assistance in publishing her rewards and making known
Gaston's disappearance--and he promised with a fine grace. He had
excellent manners when he chose, particularly when he had been his own
master long enough for the novelty to have abated. He told Count Saxe
afterward that Francezka, without being the most beautiful woman he
had ever seen, was the most interesting.
In all this time no word had come from Regnard Cheverny. Francezka
commented bitterly on this, and it much amazed me, as I had never seen
any lack of affection on either side between the brothers.
At last, toward the middle of August, all things being arranged, I set
out with Francezka on our travels in search of her lost love.