CHAPTER XLVI. AN INSPIRATION
We have seen that during the pursuit of the preceding night Roland couldhave arrested one or two of the men he was pursuing. He could now dothe same with M. de Valensolle, who was probably, like Roland himself,taking a day's rest after a night of great fatigue.
To do it he had only to write a line to the captain of gendarmes, or tothe colonel of dragoons, who had assisted him during that ineffectualsearch at Seillon. Their honor was concerned in the affair. They couldinstantly surprise M. de Valensolle in bed, and at the cost of twopistol shots--two men killed or wounded--he would be taken.
But M. de Valensolle's arrest would give warning to the rest of theband, who would instantly put themselves in safety beyond the frontier.It was better, therefore, to keep to his first idea; to go slowly, tofollow the different trails which must converge to one centre, and, atthe risk of a general engagement, throw a net over the whole company.
To do that, M. de Valensolle must not be arrested. It was better tofollow him on his pretended journey to Geneva, which was probably but ablind to foil investigation. It was therefore agreed that Roland, whosedisguise, however good, was liable to be penetrated, should remainat the lodge, and Michel and Jacques should head off the game. In allprobabilities, M. de Valensolle would not set out from the inn beforenightfall.
Roland made inquiries of Michel about the life his sister had led sinceher mother's departure. He learned that she had never once left thegrounds during that time. Her habits were still the same, except for thewalks and visits she had made with Madame de Montrevel.
She rose at seven or eight in the morning, sketched or practiced hermusic till breakfast, and afterward read or employed herself at somekind of embroidery, or took advantage of the sunshine to go out withCharlotte to the river. Sometimes she bade Michel unfasten the littleboat, and then, well wrapped in furs, would row up the Reissouse as faras Montagnac or down to Saint-Just. During these trips she spoke to noone. Then she dined. After dinner, she retired to her bedroom and didnot appear again.
By half-past six, therefore, Michel and Jacques could decamp withoutarousing any suspicion as to their where-about; and, accordingly, atthat hour they took their blouses, game-bags and guns, and started.Roland had given them their instructions. They were to follow the pacinghorse until they had ascertained his destination, or until they hadlost all trace of him. Michel was to lie in wait opposite the inn of theBelle-Alliance; Jacques was to station himself outside of Bourg,just where the main road divides into three branches, one going toSaint-Amour, another to Saint-Claude, and the third to Nantua. This lastwas at the same time the highroad to Geneva. It was evident that unlessM. de Valensolle returned upon his steps, which was not probable, hewould take one or another of these three roads.
The father started in one direction, the son in another. Michel wenttoward the town by the road to Pont-d'Ain, passing the church of Brou.Jacques crossed the Reissouse, followed the right bank of the littleriver, and found himself, after walking a few hundred yards beyond thetown, at the sharp angle made by the parting of the three roads. Fatherand son reached their separate posts at about the same time.
At this particular moment, that is to say, about seven o'clock, thestillness and solitude surrounding the Chateau des Noires-Fontaines wasbroken by the arrival of a post-chaise, which stopped before the irongate. A servant in livery got off the box and pulled the chain of thebell.
It was Michel's business to open the gate, but Michel was away, as weknow. Amelie and Charlotte probably counted on him, for the bell wasrung three times before any one answered it. At last the maid appearedat the head of the stairs calling Michel. Michel made no reply. Finally,protected by the locked gates, Charlotte ventured to approach them. Inspite of the obscurity she recognized the servant.
"Ah, is it you, Monsieur James?" she cried, somewhat reassured. Jameswas Sir John's confidential valet.
"Yes, mademoiselle, it is I, or rather it is Sir John."
The carriage door opened at this moment, and his master's voice washeard saying: "Mademoiselle Charlotte, will you tell your mistress thatI have just arrived from Paris, that I have called to leave my card, andto ask permission, not to be received this evening, but to be allowed tocall to-morrow, if she will grant me that favor. Ask her at what hour Ishall least inconvenience her."
Mademoiselle Charlotte had a high opinion of Sir John, consequentlyshe acquitted herself of the commission with the utmost alacrity. Fiveminutes later she returned to announce that Sir John would be receivedthe next day between twelve and one o'clock.
Roland knew what the Englishman had come for. In his mind the marriagewas an accomplished fact, and he regarded Sir John already as hisbrother-in-law. He hesitated a moment as to whether he should or shouldnot make himself known to Sir John, and tell his friend about hisprojects; but he reflected that Sir John was not a man to let him workthem out alone. He, too, had a revenge to take on the Companions ofJehu; he would certainly insist on taking part in the expedition,whatever it was. And that expedition, however it might result, wascertain to be dangerous, and another disaster might befall him. Roland'sluck, as Roland well knew, did not extend to his friends. Sir John,grievously wounded, had barely escaped with his life, and the colonelof dragoons had been killed outright. He therefore allowed Sir John todrive away without giving any sign of his own proximity.
As for Charlotte, she did not seem in the least surprised that Michelwas not there to open the gate. Evidently they were accustomed to hisabsences, and they did not disturb either the mistress or the maid.For the rest, Roland knew his sister well enough to understand thisindifference. Amelie, feeble under a moral suffering wholly unsuspectedby Roland, who attributed to simple nervous crises the fluctuations ofhis sister's character, Amelie was strong and brave before real danger.That was no doubt why she felt no fear about remaining with Charlottealone in the lonely house, without other protection than that affordedby the two gardeners, who spent their nights in poaching.
As for ourselves, we know that Michel and his son did really serve theirmistress' desire more in absenting themselves thus frequently from thechateau than in staying near it. Their absence left the coast clearfor Morgan, [and that] was all Amelie really cared about.
That evening and part of the night went by without bringing Roland anynews. He tried to sleep, but succeeded ill. He fancied every minute thathe heard some one at the door. The day was just beginning to glimmerthrough the shutters when the door did actually open. Michel and Jacqueswere returning, and this is what had happened to them:
They had each gone to his post, Michel at the inn door, Jacques to thejunction of the roads. Twenty paces from the door Michel had met Pierre,and three words sufficed to show him that M. de Valensolle was still atthe inn. The latter had announced that, as he had a long journey beforehim, he would let his horse rest and would not start until nightfall.Pierre did not doubt that he was going to Geneva, as he said.
Michel proposed a glass of wine to Pierre. Pierre accepted. After that,Michel was sure of being warned of any change. Pierre was the hostler,and nothing could be done in the stable without his knowledge. A ladattached to the inn promised to convey the news to Michel, in returnfor which Michel gave him three charges of powder with which to makefirecrackers.
At midnight the traveller had not yet started; they had drunk fourbottles of wine, but Michel had partaken sparingly of them. He had foundmeans to pour three of the four bottles into Pierre's glass, where theydid not long remain. At midnight the wine-shop closed, and Michel havingnowhere to go for the four hours that still remained until daybreak,Pierre offered him a bed of straw in the stable. Michel accepted. Thetwo friends went back arm-in-arm; Pierre staggering, Michel pretendingto stagger.
At three o'clock in the morning the servant of the hotel awakenedMichel. The traveller wanted his horse. Michel, pretending that he mustbe off to see to his game, also rose. His toilet was not long in making;he had only to shake the straw from his hair, game-bag, and blouse
,after which he took leave of his friend Pierre and hid himself at thecorner of the street.
Fifteen minutes later the gate opened and a man rode out on a pacinghorse. It was M. de Valensolle. He took the street that led to theGeneva road. Michel followed without concealment, whistling a huntingair. Only, as Michel could not run for fear of attracting the rider'snotice, he lost sight of him before long. But Jacques was there, thoughthe, waiting at the fork of the roads. Yes, Jacques had been there,but he had been there for over six hours of a winter's night, in fivedegrees of cold. Had he the courage to stand six hours in the snow andkick his soles against a tree?
Thinking thus, Michel took a short cut through the streets and lanes,running at full speed; but horse and rider, in spite of his haste, hadgone faster than he. He reached the fork of the roads. All was silentand solitary. The snow, trampled the day before, a Sunday, no longershowed distinct tracks. The steps of the horse were lost in the mud ofthe road. Nor did he waste further time in vain searching. He wonderedwhat had become of Jacques; but his poacher's eye soon told him.
Jacques had stood on watch at the foot of a tree. For how long? It wasdifficult to say, but long enough to become very cold. The snow was wellbeaten down by his heavy hunting-boots. He had evidently tried to keepwarm by walking up and down. Then suddenly he must have remembered alittle mud hut on the other side of the road, such as the road-mendersbuild as a shelter against the rain. He had gone down the ditch andcrossed the road. His trail, lost for a moment in the centre of theroad, was visible on the snow at either side. This trail formed adiagonal line, making straight for the hut. It was evidently in the hutthat Jacques had passed the night. But when had he left it? And whyhad he left it? The first question was unanswerable. But to the mostinexperienced scout the second was plain enough. He had left it tofollow M. de Valensolle. The same footsteps that had approached the hutwere to be seen going, as they left it, in the direction of Ceyzeriat.
The traveller had really taken the road to Geneva. Jacques' footstepsshowed it plainly. The stride was long, like that of a man running, andhe had followed the road behind the trees, evidently to conceal himselffrom the rider. At a wretched tavern, one of those with the legendinscribed over its door: "Here we give food and drink, equestrian andpedestrian lodgings," the trail stopped. It was clear that the rider hadstopped before this inn, for Jacques had also paused behind a tree sometwenty feet distant, where the snow was-trampled. Then, probably afterthe gate had closed on horse and rider, Jacques had left his tree,crossed the road, this time with hesitation, his short steps leading,not to the door, but to the window.
Michel put his own feet in his son's footprints and reached the window.Through the chinks in the shutter the interior, when lighted, could beseen; but now all was dark, and Michel could see nothing. But Jacqueshad certainly looked through the window; no doubt it was then lighted,and he had been able to see something.
Where had he gone on leaving the window? Round the house, close to thewall. This excursion was easy to follow. The snow was virgin. As forhis purpose in going round the house that was not difficult to make out.Jacques, like a lad of sense, had concluded that the traveller had notleft a good hotel, saying that he was going to Geneva, to put up at amiserable tavern a mile from the town.
He must have ridden through the yard and gone out by some other exit.Jacques had, therefore, skirted the house in the hope of recovering thetrail, if not of the horse, at least of the rider on the other side.
Sure enough, from a small gate in the rear, opening toward the forestthat extends from Coterz to Ceyzeriat, footsteps could be seen advancingin a straight line to the edge of the woods. They were those of a manelegantly shod, wearing spurs on his heels, for the spurs had left theirmarks upon the snow.
Jacques had not hesitated to follow these marks. The track of his heavyshoes could be seen near the prints of the delicate boot--the large footof the peasant near the slender foot of the city man.
It was now five o'clock. Day was breaking, and Michel resolved to go nofurther. Jacques was on the trail, and the young poacher was worth asmuch as the old one. Michel circled the open as if he were returningfrom Ceyzeriat, resolving to enter the inn and wait for Jacques' return;certain that his son would know he had followed him and had stoppedshort at this isolated house.
Michel knocked on the window-shutter and was soon admitted. He knew thelandlord, who was well accustomed to his nocturnal habits, asked for abottle, complaining bitterly of his poor luck, and asked permission towait for his son, who was in the woods on the other side, and who, hehoped, had been more successful in tracking the game. It goes withoutsaying that this permission was readily accorded. Michel opened thewindow-shutters, in order to look out on the road.
It was not long before some one knocked on the glass. It was Jacques.His father called him.
Jacques had been as unfortunate as his father. No game; and he wasfrozen. An armful of wood was thrown on the fire and a second bottle ofwine was brought. Jacques warmed himself and drank.
Then, as it was necessary that the two poachers should be back at thechateau before daylight, that their absence might not be noticed, Michelpaid for the wine and the wood, and the pair departed.
Neither had said one word before the landlord of the subject that filledtheir minds. He was not to suspect that they were on other trail thanthat of game. But no sooner were they outside of the house than Micheldrew close to his son. Jacques recounted how he had followed the tracksuntil they had reached a crossroad in the forest. There a man, armedwith a gun, had suddenly appeared and asked him what he was doing inthe forest at that hour. Jacques replied that he was watching for game."Then go further," said the man; "don't you see that this place istaken?"
Jacques admitted the justice of this claim, and went on about a hundredrods further, but, just as he was slanting to the left to return to thecrossroad, another man, armed like the first, had suddenly started upwith the same inopportune question. Jacques gave him the same answer:"Watching for game." The man had then pointed to the edge of the woods,saying in a threatening manner: "If I have any advice to give you, myyoung friend, it is to go over there. It will be safer for you thanhere."
Jacques had taken this advice, or at least had pretended to take it, foras soon as he had reached the edge of the woods he had crept along inthe ditch, until, convinced that it would be impossible to recover M. deValensolle's track, he had struck into the open, and returned by fieldsand the highroad to the tavern, where he hoped to, and in fact did, findhis father.
They reached the Chateau des Noires-Fontaines, as we have seen, just asday was breaking.
All that we have related was repeated to Roland with a multiplicity ofdetail which we must omit, and convinced the young officer that the twoarmed men, who had warned off Jacques, were not poachers as they seemed,but Companions of Jehu. But where was their haunt located?
There was no deserted convent, no ruin, in that direction.
Suddenly Roland clapped his hand to his head. "Idiot that I am!" hecried, "why did I never think of that?"
A smile of triumph crossed his lips, and addressing the two men, whowere mortified at having brought him no more definite news, he cried:"My lads, I know all I want to know. Go to bed and sleep sound; my word,you deserve to!" He himself, setting the example, slept like a manwhose brain has solved a problem of the utmost importance which has longharassed it.
The thought had just flashed through his mind that the Companionsof Jehu had abandoned the Chartreuse of Seillon for the grottoes ofCeyzeriat; and at the same time he recalled the subterranean passageleading from these grottoes to the church of Brou.