Though the approach of the Allies had not taken place within a week
from the time when it was supposed to be near, and was at least
premature, the two regiments of soldiers--that of La Reine and that of
Les Gardes Françaises--as well as two squadrons of the Mousquetaires
Noirs, remained in the city. To supply these with temporary barracks
some of the large warehouses on the quays had been occupied by the
French (who, however, spared all dwelling-houses), and amongst them
were Sylvia's warehouses.
But the proximity of these troops had rendered the Weiss Haus no
longer an agreeable place of residence to her, and, consequently, she
had accepted the oft-repeated invitation of Mynheer Van Ryk and his
wife to occupy their house with them. Neither the would-be host or
hostess were, however, aware that she had come to the determination of
quitting Liége at any moment that an opportunity should arise.
Nor, indeed, would it have been easy for Sylvia to explain her reason
for thus desiring to be gone. If she had stated that it was her
intention to escape out of the city, the sober-reasoning minds of the
Van Ryks would simply have formed the opinion--which was, in absolute
fact, the one she had herself long since arrived at--that she was far
safer in Liége than she would have been in quitting it and traversing
a land now swarming with contending armies.
Yet how would it be possible for her to, on the other hand, inform
them that her reason for departing was not that of self-preservation
at all, but, instead, of consulting the safety of a man who, in his
desire to serve her, no matter what the origin of that desire was, had
placed himself in terrible peril?
One person existed, however, who was well aware of all Sylvia's
thoughts and intentions; who could understand the nobility of the
girl's mind in deciding to quit a place in which she was in no
likelihood of danger, simply with the view to the preservation of a
man who might at any moment be exposed to the greatest of dangers.
Consequently, this person, who was the Comtesse de Valorme, not only
admired Sylvia for her intentions, but, since she herself was equally
desirous of quitting Liége for her own purposes, had decided not only
to render assistance to the undertaking, if it were possible to do so,
but also to form one of the fugitives.
"Yet," said Sylvia to the Comtesse, as now they talked over the
determination they had both come to, "fresh troubles arise at every
step. 'Twas but this afternoon that M. de Belleville"--for so both
ladies spoke of Bevill for precaution's sake, though the Comtesse had
known for days that he was an Englishman--"confided to me that M.
Francbois was once at school with him in Paris, and that he can by no
chance have forgotten what his country is nor what his name is."
"Where should the trouble be?" the Comtesse asked. "Francbois is a
crafty man, especially when craft may serve his purpose. But here it
will serve none. Were he to denounce M de Belleville, it might, in
truth, lead to the latter's downfall, but would not enrich him. Your
friend would be tried as a spy and----"
"No, no! Say it not!" Sylvia exclaimed, with a shudder, understanding
well enough what the next word must have been. "Say it not. Think how
nobly, how chivalrously, he has found his way here."
"It would not enrich Francbois," the Comtesse repeated; "therefore he
has no reason to betray him."
As she spoke these words, however, Sylvia knew very well that
Francbois had not only one reason for betraying Bevill, but had very
plainly told her that, if driven to desperation, he would undoubtedly
betray him.
Living in the same house that Sylvia was now in, since he too was a
connection of the Van Ryks, Francbois had countless opportunities of
pressing his suit with her, and these opportunities he did not
neglect. And then, after he had discovered that not only was this
Englishman, whom he hated in his boyhood, here in Liége under a false
name and nationality but, as he had also learnt, was in the habit of
seeing Sylvia frequently, he had added to this discovery a very strong
suspicion that he was an English admirer, if not lover, of hers. But
that there was any intention on their part of quitting Liége he did
not as yet imagine. Even so, however, he knew enough.
This Englishman, passing as a Frenchman, was, he admitted, handsome,
gallant, and _debonnaire_--a man whom any woman might well love and be
proud to love. And Sylvia, he remembered, had refused all the
addresses that other men had attempted to pay her, including his own.
She was ever cold, stately, and almost contemptuous of men's
admiration. Yet now, now that this man had appeared, they had been
much together, as his own observations had shown him--was it not
possible that, in her frequent visits to England with her father, she
had met this countryman of hers and learnt to love him, and that now
he was here, not only to carry on his suit, but also to be with her in
time of trouble? He knew too that, although Bevill had not yet entered
Van Ryk's house, he had met Sylvia and the Comtesse on the quays and
in the public gardens of the city. He did, indeed, know enough.
Therefore, this very day, he had spoken plainly to the girl--so
plainly that, without indulging in any actual threats, he had made her
see clearly how much there was to fear from him if she still refused
to listen to his protestations, his desire to obtain her hand.
[Illustration: "This very day he had spoken plainly to the
girl."--_p_. 513.]
"What does he threaten, what hint at?" the Comtesse de Valorme asked
as she listened to all that Sylvia told her; while, as she spoke,
there was a strange look in her eyes.
"He threatens nothing, yet suggests much. He said but this morning
that a word to M. de Violaine, who is in command of the Citadel----"
"Monsieur de Violaine! De Violaine! The Brigadier! Is he in command of
the Citadel?"
"Why, yes. So Monsieur Francbois said. Do you know him?"
"Ay, very well, for many years. He is, like me, from the South. So! A
hint to him. Well! What is this hint to convey? What harm is it to
do?"
"To cause Mr. Brac--M. de Belleville to be arrested as an Englishman
passing as a Frenchman, and doubtless, in the French mind, as a spy.
To be tried as the latter--to be executed. Ah, no, no, no!" Sylvia
concluded. "Not that--surely not that."
"Let him denounce your compatriot to M. de Violaine. Bid him do so
when next he makes his vile suggestion. Only, to the defiance add
this: ask him if he knows to what faith M. de Violaine belongs; ask
him if he knows which man the Governor of the Citadel would deal
harder with--an Englishman passing under the garb of a Frenchman, or a
Frenchman who is----"
"What?"
"Ah! well, no matter for the present. Also, on second thoughts, do not
ask him that. Instead, say: Madame de Valorme is a friend of M. de
Belleville. He who injures him incurs her enmity. It will be enough.
Now tell me, when do you expect to see your countryman again?"
"He is coming to-night to see us both. Alas! he may not come in open
daylight, since he recognises that it is not well for him and
Francbois to meet here face to face. But still he would fain see you,
since you have promised to leave the city with us, if such a thing can
be accomplished; also he comes to tell us how stands the chance of our
succeeding."
"When does he come?"
"At nightfall. Knowing that Mynheer keeps his bed of a quinsy, and
Madame stays with him, while Francbois has gone to see his friends at
the Jesuits' College----"
"Ah! his friends at the Jesuits' College," the Comtesse repeated
quietly.
"Monsieur de Belleville will come in by the garden gate. It may be, he
says, that he will have discovered some chance, or, at least, have
conceived some scheme whereby we shall be enabled to leave the city
and make our way to the Allied Forces."
"Does he know my mission, the reason why I so ardently desire to see
Lord Marlborough? Does he know why I so long to cast myself at that
commander's feet--to beg him, to implore him on my knees to send the
long-promised aid of England to those of our persecuted faith in
Languedoc? To send it now--now--when France is attacked on all sides,
when England and Holland are hemming her in with bands of steel in the
north, when Prince Eugene is hurling his armies against her in Italy.
For now is the time. Now! Now!"
"He knows," Sylvia said, touching her friend's hand gently. "I have
told him."
"And does he know the rest? All. Have you told him that?"
"Oh, do not speak of it! Do not think of it! Ah, Radegonde!"
addressing the other by her Christian name. "Do not speak of it, I
entreat you."
"Not speak of it! Not think of it!" the Comtesse exclaimed, while as
she did so her eyes were wet with tears, her cheeks being also as wet
with them as leaves bedashed with rain, her whole frame being shaken
with emotion. "As well bid me not dream of it night by night, nor let
my existence be broken with unhappy memories. Not think of my father's
death--my father, an old, grey-haired, feeble man!--in the dungeons of
Nîmes--my father, who, had he not thus died, would have been broken on
the wheel. Not think of that! Nor, perhaps of my husband----"
"Oh, Radegonde!"
"----sent to the galleys, beaten, driven to his doom even as he sat
lashed to the oar. He! young, gallant, an honest, God-fearing man! And
all for what? For what? Because they and thousands like them--all good
and true subjects of this tyrant Louis, of this priest-ridden,
woman-ridden Louis--did but wish to worship in their own way! Not
think of it! My God! shall I ever cease to think of it?"
"Nay, do not weep, I implore you," Sylvia exclaimed. "The English will
help; so, too, will all the Netherlands. All who think and worship as
those in the South worship will help. And soon, soon, freedom, peace,
must come. An end must come to all their sufferings."
"Does he know all this?" the Comtesse asked again when her passionate
sorrow had somewhat spent itself. "Does he? If not, he must do so.
Otherwise, what will he deem me--me, a Frenchwoman seeking to reach
Marlborough, the most hated, the most feared foe of France!"
"He knows," Sylvia whispered, "and, knowing, understands all."
But by now the night was near at hand. Through the great, open,
bow-shaped window of the solid Dutch house was wafted the scent of
countless summer flowers, the perfume of the roses, now dashed with
the evening dews, mingling with that of many others. Also the sounds
that summer always brings more plainly to the ears were not wanting;
the birds were twittering in the trees ere roosting for the short
night; from the Abbey of St Paul the solemn sounds of the great bell
boomed softly while the silver-toned carillons joined in unison. In
other of the city gardens close by the voices of little children could
be heard as they played their last rounds ere going to their beds, all
unconscious, or, at least, unheeding, in their innocence that they
were in a beleaguered city that, if war's worst horrors rolled that
way, might ere long be the scene of awful carnage and see its old
streets drenched with blood.
"It is the time, Sylvia," the Comtesse said, "that he should come. Is
the gate unlocked?"
"Nay, not yet. I will go and see to it." And Sylvia, passing through
the low window and down the steps to the garden, went along the
neatly-kept path towards where the gate was.
Then, at the moment she was about to turn the key in the lock, and,
next, to leave the solid wooden gate an inch ajar, so that, when
Bevill came, he might push it open as he had done more than once since
she had taken up her abode in this house, she heard a footstep outside
in the lane--one that she had already learnt to know well enough!
"Ah," she exclaimed, turning the key quickly and drawing back the
door, while she held out her hand to Bevill a moment afterwards. "Ah!
you have come."
"To the moment," he replied, taking her outstretched hand and bending
over it. "Did I not say that I would be here before the carillon had
finished its chimes? And here am I! Yet--yet--almost I doubted if it
were well for me to come to-night----"
"You doubted that!" Sylvia exclaimed, while stopping on their way
towards the house to look up at him. "You doubted if you would come!
Knowing how we were waiting here, how we were expecting your coming!"
"Ay, knowing what danger lurks near to you; to your desire and that of
Madame de Valorme to quit Liége. Also, in a lesser degree, to me,
though that matters not----"
"That matters not!" the girl exclaimed, repeating his words again,
while in the dusk he could see her starry eyes fixed on his--eyes that
resembled the stars themselves gleaming through the mists of summer
nights--"that matters not!"
"Danger," he went on, unheeding, though not unobserving, "if Francbois
knows my movements, if he knows that we meditate aught like flight
from Liége. Have you not told me of his unwelcome desires and
hopes--of his----?"
"Hark! Stop!" Sylvia whispered, interrupting him. "Listen. There is
another footstep in the lane. It may be he--following, tracking you.
And the gate is open! Heavens, he is there! The footfall stops. If his
suspicions are aroused he will halt at nothing. He will denounce you!"
"Will he? We will see to that. Go back to the room, welcome him as he
returns----"
"But you? You! The danger is yours, not mine."
"I am safe. I fear nothing."
"Ah, yes; when he has entered you can escape, can leave by the door.
'Tis so. Farewell until to-morrow. Farewell." And as swiftly as might
be, the tall, graceful form of Sylvia sped back to the room while
Bevill, crossing the grass plot, entered an arbour at the side of it.
"Ha!" he said to himself. "Escape! Leave by the door! She does not
know me yet. Escape!" and as he spoke he drew still further within the
darkness of the arbour.
Neither he nor Sylvia had been too soon in their action. Looking
through the interstices of The vines which were trained to grow
outside the open woodwork of the arbour, Bevill saw that Francbois was
advancing up the path towards the steps leading to the open window of
the old room.
As he did so, however, a reflection entered his mind which caused him
to wonder if, after all, there was any connection between Francbois'
doing so and his own visit. The man lived here with the Van Ryks.
Might it not be, therefore, that this was his ordinary way of
returning home? A moment later, however, Bevill recognised that this
could not be so. The gate was always locked inside at night; as was
the case with himself but just now, and on former visits during the
week, it had to be unlocked from the inside for entrance to be
obtained.
"Francbois comes this way to-night," he muttered, "because he knows,
has seen, that I too did so!" and as he so thought he brought his sash
a little more round and felt to discover if his sword ran smoothly in
its sheath.
Meanwhile, the other had entered through the open window of the room,
and had found Sylvia by herself, since the Comtesse must have quitted
it for some purpose during the time the girl had gone to unlock the
gate. He could see that she was by herself, for the lamp, which had
been brought in some time earlier, was turned fully up.
"Mademoiselle is alone," Francbois said, though as he spoke his eyes
were peering into the corners of the room that, in spite of the lamp,
were in partial darkness; and also peering, as far as possible, behind
the great Java screens. "Alone!"
"Apparently," Sylvia replied in the usual indifferent tones she
adopted towards this man. "Madame de Valorme was here a moment since."
"Madame de Valorme!" Francbois echoed. "Madame de Valorme alone?"
"Whom else did you expect to see?"
"One whom I had good reason to suppose was here--your 'French' friend,
Monsieur de Belleville."
"Your eyes prove to you that your supposition is wrong."
"Surely he has entered the house. I followed behind him on my way
here."
"He has not entered the house. That you 'followed' him I do not doubt
And, even had he entered the house, which as I tell you he has not
done, you are not the master of it. Also, Mynheer Van Ryk, who is, has
bade me welcome here any whom I desire to receive."
"It is incredible!" Francbois said. "Incredible. He passed down the
lane before me. And--and--that door," pointing to one which led out of
the room into a small library or study, "is not fast shut. And there
is a light within."
"Monsieur Francbois," Sylvia said very quietly, and now she stood
before him drawn to her full height, stately, contemptuous, as an
affronted queen might stand, "if you choose to believe your own
thoughts as against what I tell you, do so. Look in that room and see
if my 'friend,' Monsieur de Belleville, is there. Only, from the
moment you have done so, never dare to address one word to me again.
There," extending her arm, "is the door. Enter the room and observe
for yourself. Afterwards, you will doubtless search the house."
[Illustration: "'Enter the room and observe for yourself.'"--_p_.
515.]
Vacillating, uncertain how to decide; sure, too, that his eyes had not
deceived him, Francbois knew not what to do. If he looked in the room
and did not find the Englishman, then his remotest chance with Sylvia
was gone for ever; while, if he did find him there, his recollection
of Bevill's earlier character told him that he would have to pay a
heavy reckoning for his curiosity. Yet, how could the man be there?
Would Sylvia have bidden him enter the room had that been so; would
she have bidden him do that which must stamp her as utterly untruthful
should the Englishman be found?
Still halting, not knowing what to do, he nevertheless took a step or
two towards the library door, while observing that Sylvia's glance was
fixed contemptuously on him; then, suddenly, he exclaimed, "I will
know!" and advanced close to the door.
At that moment it opened wide and the Comtesse de Valorme appeared.
"You see," she said, speaking with withering scorn, "I am the only
person the room contains. Now do as Sylvia suggested--search the
house."
"Monsieur Francbois need scarcely trouble so far as that," a voice
said from the foot of the garden steps, while all turned their eyes on
Bevill standing below. "I have heard enough to know that he seeks an
opportunity of speaking with me. Monsieur Francbois, I pray you to
descend. I, too, must have some talk with you. Afterwards, we can
arrange our affairs pleasantly, I do not doubt. You understand?"
looking at Francbois.