CHAPTER XXXIII
THE RIDE
It is one hundred and fifty leagues from Versailles to the harbour ofLe Havre as the crow flies, one hundred and eighty most like by roadand across fields.
Gaston had twelve hours in which to cover the ground, a good horse,and the enthusiasm born of empty pockets when two and a half millionlivres loom temptingly at the end of the journey.
The fields, after the corn harvest, were excellent for a gallop,yielding just sufficiently to the mare's hoofs to give her a pleasantfoothold, but not in any way spongy, with good stubble to giveresistance and the sandy soil below to prevent the slightest jar.Riding under such conditions, in the cool hours of the morning, wasdistinctly pleasant.
Gaston reached Nantes soon after seven, having covered close on fortyleagues of his journey without unduly tiring Belle Amie. He was a goodrider and knew how to ease her, and there was Arab blood in her. Shemade light of the work, and enjoyed her gallops, being of the breedthat never shows fatigue, own daughter to Jedran who had carriedMaurice de Saxe on his famous ride from Paris to Saargemund, threehundred leagues in eighteen hours.
At Nantes, Stainville partook of a frugal breakfast, and Belle Amiehad a rest and a mouthful of corn. He was again to horse within halfan hour, crossing the Seine here by the newly constructed stonebridge, thence on toward Elboeuf. By ten o'clock the sun was high inthe heavens and was pouring heat like molten lead down on horse andrider. Progress had become much slower. Several halts had to be madeat tiny wayside inns for a cooling drink and a rub down for BelleAmie. The enjoyment had gone out of the ride. It was heavy, arduouswork, beside which despatch riding, with message of life and death,was mere child's play.
But this was not a case of life and death, but of that which was fardearer to Gaston than life without it. Money! money at the end of itall! even if Belle Amie dropped on the roadside and he himself had tocover the rest of the distance on foot. An extra half million if _LaMonarque_ set sail before sunset to-day.
At Rouen, horse and rider had to part company. Belle Amie, who hadcovered close on a hundred leagues, and most of it in the full glareof the midday sun, wanted at least a couple of hours rest if she wasto get to Le Havre at all, and this her rider was unwilling to giveher. At the posting hostelry, which stands immediately at the rear ofthe cathedral, Stainville bargained for a fresh horse, and left BelleAmie in charge of mine host to be tended and cared for against hisreturn, probably on the morrow.
Here, too, he partook of a light midday meal whilst the horse wasbeing got ready for him. A good, solid Normandy mare this time, aperfect contrast to Belle Amie, short and thick in the legs, with abroad crupper, and a sleepy look in her eye. But she was a comfortablemount as Gaston soon found out, with a smooth, even canter, and thoughher stride was short, she got over the ground quickly enough. It wasstill very hot, but the roads beyond Rouen were sandy and light; thelanes were quite stoneless and shaded by tall trees; the Normandy maresettled down along them to an easy amble. She had not the spirit ofBelle Amie but she made up in stolidity what she had lacked inswiftness. Gaston's first impatience at the slowness of her gait soonyielded to content, for she needed no checking, and urging beinguseless--since she could go no faster--the rider was soon able to lethis mind rest and even to sink into semi-somnolence, trusting himselfto the horse entirely.
At half-past five the towers of Notre Dame du Havre were in sight; anhour later than Gaston had dared to hope, but still far from the hourof sunset, and if he could infuse a sufficiency of enthusiasm into thecommander of _Le Monarque_, the gallant ship could still negotiate theharbour before dusk, the tide being favourable, and be out in the openere the first stars appeared in the heavens.
The little seaport town, whose tortuous, unpaved, and narrow streetswere ankle deep in slimy mud in spite of the persistent heat anddryness of the day, appeared to Gaston like the golden city of hisdreams. On his left the wide mouth of the Seine, with her lonely shorebeyond, was lost in the gathering mist, which rose rapidly now afterthe intense heat of the day. On his right, a few isolated houses weredotted here and there, built of mud, thatched and plastered over, andwith diminutive windows not more than a few inches square, because ofthe tax which was heavy; they testified to the squalor and misery oftheir inhabitants, a few families earning an uncertain livelihood withtheir nets. Soon along the length of the river, as it graduallywidened toward its mouth, a few isolated craft came to view; fishingboats these mostly, with here and there a graceful brigantine ladenwith timber, and a few barges which did a precarious coasting-tradewith salted fish and the meagre farm produce of the environs.
Gaston de Stainville took no heed of these, though the scene--ifsomewhat mournful and desolate--had a certain charm of rich colouringand hazy outline in the glow of the afternoon sun. The heat hadaltogether abated, and the damp which rose from the spongy soil,peculiar to the bed of the river, was already making itself felt.Gaston shivered beneath the light cloth coat which he had donned inthe morning, in view of the fatigues of a hot summer's day. His eyespeered anxiously ahead and to the left of him. His mare, who had bornehim stolidly for over five hours, was quite ready to give way; therewas no Arab blood in her to cause her to go on until she dropped. Shehad settled down to a very slow jog-trot, which was supremelyuncomfortable to the rider, whose tired back could scarcely endurethis continuous jar. Fortunately the straggling, outlying portions ofthe townlet were already far behind; the little mud houses appearedquite frequently now, and from them, wizened figures came out to thedoorway; women in ragged kirtles and children half-naked but for ameagre shift, gazed, wide-eyed, at the mud-bespattered cavalier andhis obviously worn-out mount.
From the fine old belfry the chime had long tolled the half hour.Gaston vainly tried to spur the mare to a final effort. She hadreached a stage of fatigue when blows would not have quickened hersteps, whilst her rider, roused from his own somnolent weariness, wassuddenly alert and eager. Goal was indeed in sight. The mud huts evenhad been left behind, and one or two stone houses testified to theimportance of the town and the well-being of its inhabitants; thefirst inn--a miserable wooden construction quite uninviting even aftera day's ride--had already been passed. Ahead was the church of NotreDame, the fish market, and the residence of the governor; beyond weresome low wooden buildings, suggestive of barracks, whilst the Seine,ever widening until her further shore was finally lost in the mist,now showed an ever-varying panorama of light and heavy craft upon herbreast; brigantines, and fishing boats, and the new-fashioned top-sailschooners, and far ahead, majestic and sedate, one or twothree-deckers of His Majesty's own navy.
Gaston strained his eyes, wondering which of these was _Le Monarque_!