CHAPTER XX
A FAREWELL
Gaston de Stainville had been sitting idly on the garden seat, vaguelywondering why Lydie was so long absent, ignorant of course of theacute crisis through which she had just passed. For the last quarterof an hour of this weary waiting, anxiety began to assail him.
Women were so fickle and so capricious! which remark inwardly mutteredcame with singular inappropriateness from Gaston de Stainville. Hiskeen judgment, however, fought his apprehensions. He knew quite wellthat Lydie was unlike other women, at once stronger and weaker thanthose of her own sex, more firm in her purpose, less bendable in herobstinacy. And he knew also that nothing could occur within thegorgeous walls of that palace to cause her to change her mind.
But as the moments sped on, his anxiety grew apace. He no longer couldsit still, and began walking feverishly up and down the little glade,like an animal caged within limits too narrow for its activity. Hedared not wander out of the wood, lest she should return and, notfinding him there, think at once of doubting.
Thus when she once more appeared before him, he was not so calm as hewould have wished, nor yet so keen in noting the subtle, indefinablechange which had come over her entire personality. Desirous of maskinghis agitation, he knelt when she approached, and thus took the packetfrom her hand.
The action struck her as theatrical, her mind being filled withanother picture, that of a man motionless and erect, with pale,expressionless face, which yet had meant so much more of reality toher.
And because of this theatricality in Gaston's attitude, she lostsomething of the fullness of joy of this supreme moment. She ought tohave been happier, more radiant with hope for the future and withgratitude to him. She tried to say something enthusiastic, somethingmore in keeping with the romance of this sudden and swift departure,the prospective ride to Le Havre, the spirit of self-sacrifice andcourage which caused him to undertake this task, so different to hisusual avocation of ease and luxury.
"I pray you, Gaston," she said, "guard the packet safely, and use yourbest endeavours to reach Le Havre ere the night hath yielded to a newdawn."
She could not say more just now, feeling that if she added words ofencouragement or of praise, they would not ring true, and would seemas artificial as his posture at her feet.
"I will guard the packet with my life," he said earnestly, "and ifperchance you wake to-night from dreams of the unfortunate prince,whom your devotion will save from death, send one thought wanderingfar away across the rich fields of Normandy, for they will be behindme by that time, and I will sight the port of Le Havre long before itschurch spires are tipped with gold."
"God speed you then!" she rejoined. "I'll not detain you!"
She chided herself for her coldness, noting that Gaston on the otherhand seemed aglow now with excitement, as he unbuttoned his coat andslipped the papers into an inner pocket. Then he sprang to his feetand seemed ready to go.
Just at the moment of actual parting, when he asked for her hand tokiss, and she, giving it to him felt his lips trembling on herfingers, some measure of his excitement communicated itself to her,and she repeated more warmly:
"God speed you, Gaston, and farewell!"
"God bless you, Lydie, for this trust which you have deigned to placein me! Two days hence at even I shall have returned. Where shall I seeyou then?"
"In my study. Ask for an audience. I will see that it is granted."
The next moment he had gone; she saw the rich purple of his coatgradually vanish behind the tall bracken. Even then she had nomisgivings. She thought that she had done right, and that she hadtaken the only course by which she could ensure the safety of theStuart prince, to whom France, whom she guided through the tortuouspaths of diplomacy, and for whose honour she felt herself to beprimarily responsible, had pledged her word and her faith.