The Court in the Cabin
It is marvel to us now how the next hours of suspense did pass. Yet pass
they did, and in a joy that was fairly certitude; for I could not doubt
the witness of my inmost soul. At length I saw that Marc believed also.
His grave, dark face grew luminous as he said, after long balancing of
the matter:
“Her eyes, my Paul, have opened at the last instant, and she has chosen
exile with thee! Even so would Prudence have done. And seeing how thou,
my comrade, lovest her, I am ready to believe she may be almost such
another as Prudence. Wherefore she is here, _quod erat demonstrandum_!”
Even as he spoke, a soldier came down the ladder and stood before us.
“I am bidden to say,” said he, “that Mademoiselle de Lamourie desires to
see Captain de Mer and Captain Grande on deck; and I am ordered by
Lieutenant Shafto to fetch you at once.”
With such haste as was possible—it is not easy when handcuffed to climb
ladders—we made our way on deck, and straight came Yvonne running to
meet us, both small hands outstretched. Her eyes sank into mine for just
one heart-beat—and that look said, “I love you.” Then her guarded face
grew maidenly impartial.
“My friends! My dear friends!” she cried; but stopped as if she had been
struck. Our hands had not gone forth to meet hers. Her eyes fell upon
our fetters. She turned slowly toward Captain Eliphalet and Lieutenant
Shafto, who had followed close behind her. Flame gathered in her eyes,
and a dark flush of indignation went over her face. She pointed at our
handcuffs.
“This to my friends—in my presence!” she cried. “Of a truth your
courtesy is tempered, gentlemen!”
With an angry exclamation Captain Eliphalet sprang forward to remove the
offending irons; but the exquisite lieutenant was too quick for him. At
a sign the guard who had brought us slipped them off, and stood holding
them behind his back, while his officer was left free to make apologies.
These were abundant, and of such a tone as to leave no doubt of their
sincerity. Moreover, by his manner, he included Marc and myself in his
expressions of regret, which proved sound policy on his part, and went
far to win his pardon from Yvonne.
“Believe me, mademoiselle,” he concluded, “it was never for one moment
intended that these gentlemen, your friends, officers in the French
army, and therefore, though my enemies, yet honoured members of my own
profession, should thus obtrude upon your gentle eyes those chains, with
which not their fault, but the chances of our profession have for a
season embarrassed them.”
This was so apt and so elegant a conclusion that Captain Eliphalet felt
himself urged to some great things, if he would not be quite eclipsed in
his guest’s entrancing eyes.
“Indeed, mademoiselle,” he made haste to say, “as these gentlemen are
your friends and kinsmen, and you have dared so splendidly for their
sake, they may say good-by to the irons for the rest of the voyage, if
they will but give their word of honour that they will in no way use
their liberty to the detriment of my duties and responsibilities, nor to
free any of the other prisoners.
He turned to us with a very hearty air. Yvonne looked radiant with
satisfaction. Lieutenant Shafto’s face dropped—for he doubtless thought
our continued freedom would much limit his privileges with Yvonne. But I
spoke up at once, forestalling Marc.
“I need hardly assure you, Monsieur le Capitaine, that we do from our
hearts appreciate your most generous courtesy. But beyond the few hours
of freedom which we dare hope you may grant us each day, for the
priceless solace of our fair kinswoman’s company, we cannot in
conscience accept a favour that would too enviably distinguish us from
our fellows.”
Captain Eliphalet looked unaffectedly astonished. Yvonne looked hurt and
disappointed for a moment; then her face changed, and I saw that her
swift brain was drawing intricate inferences from this strange rejection
of parole—to which Marc had assented in a word. As for the elegant Mr.
Shafto, however, he was frankly delighted.
“Right soldierly said, gentlemen!” he exclaimed. “A good officer stands
by his men. I am honoured in meeting you!” and with a very precise
civility he shook hands with us in turn.
“But it is very cold here, is it not?” cried Yvonne, with a little
shiver, pulling her cloak close. “Let me invite you all to my cabin.”
This invitation she gave with a flying radiance of look at Captain
Eliphalet, wherewith he stood a millionfold rewarded.
In the cabin I was not greatly astonished, though more than greatly
pleased, to find Mother Pêche. The undisguised triumph in her eyes said,
“Didn’t I tell you?”—and in involuntary response to the challenge I
thrust my hand into my breast and felt the little deerskin pouch
containing the tress of hair and the mystic stone. She smiled at the
gesture.
I pressed the dear old witch’s hand, and said in a low voice:
“In all my life to come I cannot thank you enough. But isn’t it
wonderful? I’m in fear each moment of waking, and to find it a dream.”
“She _is_ a dream, Master Paul!” said the old dame. “And see how all men
dream when they look upon her!”
With a jealous pang I realized the truth of what she said; and thereupon
I made haste to Yvonne’s side, where I saw Marc, Shafto, and Captain
Eliphalet all hanging devoutly upon her words. I was but a dull addition
to the sprightly circle, for I was wondering how I should manage to get
a word with her.
Had I but known her better I need not have wondered. Presently she broke
off in the midst of a sparkling tirade, laid her hand upon my arm, and
said:
“Will you pardon me, gentlemen, but I have a brief word awaiting the ear
of Captain Grande,” and calmly she walked me off to the cabin door.
“I presumed, perhaps too hastily, that you still wanted me, dear,” was
what she said.
I dared not look straight at her, for I knew that if I did so my face
would be a flaunting proclamation of my worship. I could but say, in a
voice that strove for steadiness:
“Beloved, beloved! have you done all this for me?”
A happy mirth came into her voice as she answered:
“No, Paul, not quite all for you! I had to think a little of a certain
good man, madly bent on marrying a woman who would, alas! (I know it too
well) have made him a most unpleasant wife. George Anderson will never
know what I saved him from. But _you_ may, Paul! Aren’t you a little bit
afraid?”
I am well aware that in this supreme moment I betrayed no originality
whatever. I could only repeat myself, in expressions which I need not
set down. Trite as they were, however, she forgave them.
“We have so much to talk about, dear,” she said, “but not now. We must
go back to the others; and I must take your cousin Marc aside as I have
done with you, so that this won’t look too strange. Does _he_ like
me—approve of me?” she asked anxiously.
“Second only to his little Puritan he loves you,” said I. “He knows
everything.”
Then, just as we turned back to the others, I whispered in her ear:
“Be prepared for events to-night!”
She gave me a startled look, understanding at once. Then indeed, as now,
whatever is in my mind she is apt to read as if it were an open book.
“So soon? Oh, be careful for my sake!”
I could give no answer, for by this, the cabin being small, we were
quite returned from our privacy.
For perhaps two hours Yvonne entertained us, not only conversing herself
with a gracious wit that struck but to illumine, never to wound, but
calling forth a responsive alertness in her cavaliers. Captain Eliphalet
began to wonder at his own readiness of repartee and compliment.
Lieutenant Shafto forgot the perfect propriety of his ruffles, engrossed
for once in another than himself. Even my imperturbable Marc yielded in
some measure to the resistless bewilderment, and played the gallant with
a quaint, fatherly air that pleasured me. I, only, was the silent one. I
could but listen, intoxicated, speaking when I could not escape it, and
my ears averse to all words but those coming from her lips.
By and by—I was vexed that his discretion should bring the moment so
soon—Marc made his adieux, insisting against much protest that he
desired to keep his welcome unworn for the morrow. I could do naught
save follow his example; but as I withdrew, Yvonne’s eyes held me so
that my feet in going moved like lead. The broad-bearded captain and the
impeccable lieutenant most civilly accompanied us to the door of our
prison.
“This situation, gentlemen,” said Marc, with a smile of careless
amusement, “which your courtesy does so sweeten for us, is certainly not
without the relish of strangeness.”
“It shall be made as little strange as lies in our power to make it,
sir,” replied Captain Eliphalet heartily; and we parted with all
expressions of esteem; not till their backs were turned upon us did we
extend our wrists for the irons, which the discreet guard had kept
hidden under the flap of his great-coat.