CHAPTER XVII.
FROMENT OF NIMES.
This encounter served neither to raise my spirits nor to remove theapprehensions with which I looked forward to our arrival in placesmore populous; places where suspicion, once roused, might be lesseasily allayed. True, Geol had not betrayed me, but he might have hisreasons for that; nor did the fact any the more reconcile me to havingon our trail this grim stalking-horse in whose person a fanaticism Ihad deemed dead lurked behind modern doctrines, and sought under thecloak of a new party to avenge old injuries. The barren slopes andrugged peaks that rose above us, as we plodded toilsomely onward, thewindswept passes over which the horses scarce dragged the emptycarriage, the melancholy fields of snow that lay to right and left,all tended to deepen the impression made on my mind; so that feelinghim one with his native hills, I longed to escape from them, I longedto be clear of this desolation and to see before me the sunshine andolive slopes sweep down to the southern sea.
Yet even here there was a counterpoise. The peril which had startledme had not been lost on Madame St. Alais; it had sensibly lowered hertone, and damped the triumph with which she had been disposed to treatme. She was more quiet; and sitting in her place, or walking besidethe labouring carriage, as it slowly wound its way round shoulders, orwearily climbed long _lacets_, she left me to myself. Nay, it did notescape me that distance, far from relieving, seemed to aggravate heranxiety; so that the farther we left the uncouth Baron behind, themore restless she grew, the more keenly she scanned the road behindus, and the less regard she paid to me.
This left me at liberty to use my eyes as I would; and I remember tothis day that hour spent under the shoulder of Mont Aigoual.Mademoiselle, worn out by days and nights of exertion, had fallenasleep in her corner, and shaken by the jolting of the coach had letthe cloak slip from her face. A faint flush warmed her cheeks, as ifeven in sleep she felt my eyes upon her; and though a tear presentlystole from under her long lashes, a smile almost naive--a smile thatremained while the tear passed--seemed to say that the joys of thatstrange day surpassed the pains, and that in her sleep Mademoisellefound nothing to regret. God, how I watched that smile! How I hopedthat it was for me, how I prayed for her! Never before had it been myhappiness to gaze on her uncontrolled, as I did now; to trace theshadow where the first tendrils of her hair stole up from the smooth,white forehead, to learn the soft curves of lips and chin, and thedainty ear half-hidden; to gaze at the blue-veined eyelids half infear, half in the hope that they might rise and discover me!
Denise, my Denise! I breathed the word softly, in my heart, and washappy. In spite of all--the cold, the journey, Geol, Madame--I washappy. And then in a moment I fell to earth, as I heard a voice sayclearly, "Is that he?"
It was Madame's voice, and I turned to her. I was relieved to findthat she was not looking my way, but was on her feet, gazing back theway we had come. And in a moment, whether she gave an order or thedriver halted on his own motion, the carriage came to a stand; in amountain pass, where rocks lay huddled on either side.
"What is it?" I said in wonder.
She did not answer, but on the silence of the road and the mountainsrose the thin strain of a whistled air. The air was "O Richard, _O monRoi!_" In that solitude of rock and fell, it piped high and thin, andhad a weird startling effect. I thrust out my head on the other side,and saw a man walking after us at his leisure; as if we had passedhim, and then stood to wait for him. He was tall and stout, wore bootsand a common-looking cloak; but for all that he had not the air of aman of the country.
"You are going to Ganges?" Madame cried to him, without preface.
"Yes, Madame," he answered, as he came quietly up, and saluted her.
"We can take you on," she said.
"A thousand thanks," he answered, his eyes twinkling. "You are toogood. If the gentleman does not object?" And he looked at me, smilingwithout disguise.
"Oh, no!" Madame said, with a touch of contempt in her voice, "thegentleman will not object."
But that gave me, in the middle of my astonishment, the fillip that Ineeded. The device of the meeting was so transparent, the appearanceof this man, in cloak and boots, on the desolate road far from anyhabitation, was so clearly a part of an arranged plan, that I couldnot swallow it; I must either fall in with it, be dupe, and play my_role_ with my eyes open, or act at once. I awoke from myastonishment. "One moment, Madame," I said. "I do not know who thisgentleman is."
She had resumed her seat, and the stranger had come up to the windowon her side, and was looking in. He had a face of striking power,large-sized and coarse, but not unpleasant; with quick, bright eyes,and mobile lips that smiled easily. The hand he laid on the carriagedoor was immense.
I think my words took Madame by surprise. She flashed round on me."Nonsense," she cried imperiously. And to him, "Get in, Monsieur."
"No," I retorted, half-rising. "Stay, if you please. Stay where youare, until----"
Madame turned to me, furious. "This is my carriage," she said.
"Absolutely," I answered.
"Then what do you mean?"
"Only that if this gentleman enters it, I leave it."
For an instant we looked at one another. Then she saw that I wasdetermined, and, knowing my position, she lowered her tone. "Why?" shesaid, breathing quickly. "Why, because he enters it, should you leaveit?"
"Because, Madame," I answered, "I see no reason for taking in astranger whom we do not know. This gentleman may be everything that isupright----"
"He is no stranger!" she snapped. "I know him. Will that satisfy you?"
"If he will give me his name," I said.
Hitherto he had stood unmoved by the discussion, looking with a smilefrom one to the other of us; but at this he struck in. "With pleasure,Monsieur," he said. "My name is Alibon, and I am an advocate ofMontauban, who last week had the good fortune----"
"No," I said, interrupting him brusquely, and once for all; "I thinknot. Not Alibon of Montauban. Froment of Nimes, I think, Monsieur."
A little tract of snow flushed by the sunset lay behind him, and bycontrast darkened his face; I could not see how he took my words. Anda few seconds elapsed before he answered. When he did, however, hespoke calmly, and I fancied I detected as much vanity as chagrin inhis tone. "Well, Monsieur," he said, "and if I am? What then?"
"If you are," I replied resolutely, meeting his eyes, "I decline totravel with you."
"And therefore," he retorted, "Madame, whose carriage this is, mustnot travel with me!"
"No, since she cannot travel without me," I answered with spirit.
He frowned at that; but in a moment, "And why?" he said with a sneer."Am I not good enough for your excellency's company?"
"It is not a question of goodness," I said bluntly, "but of apassport, Monsieur. If you ask me, I do not travel with you because Ihold a commission under the present Government, and I believe you tobe working against that Government. I have lied for Madame St. Alaisand her daughter. She was a woman and I had to save her. But I willnot lie for you, nor be your cloak. Is that plain, Monsieur?"
"Quite," he said slowly. "Yet I serve the King. Whom do you serve?"
I was silent.
"Whose is this commission, Monsieur, that must not be contaminated?"
I writhed under the sneer, but I was silent.
"Come, M. le Vicomte," he continued frankly, and in a different tone."Be yourself, I pray. I am Froment, you have guessed it. I am also afugitive, and were my name spoken in Villeraugues, a league on, Ishould hang for it. And in Ganges the like. I am at your mercy,therefore, and I ask you to shelter me. Let me pass through Sumene andGanges as one of your party; thenceforth onwards," he added with asmile and a gesture of conscious pride, "I can shift for myself."
I do not wonder I hesitated, I wonder I resisted. It seemed so small athing to ask, so great a thing to refuse, that, though half a minutebefore my mind had been made up, I wavered; wavered miserably. I feltm
y face burn, I felt the passionate ardour of Madame's eyes as theydevoured it, I felt the call of the silence for my answer. And I wasnear assenting. But as I turned feverishly in my seat to avoidMadame's look, my hand touched the packet which contained thecommission, and the contact wrought a revulsion of feeling. I saw thething as I had seen it before, and, rightly or wrongly, revolted fromthat which I had nearly done.
"No," I cried angrily. "I will not! I will not!"
"You coward!" Madame cried with sudden passion. And she sprang up asif to strike me, but sat down again trembling.
"It may be," I said. "But I will not do it."
"Why? Why? Why?" she cried.
"Because I carry that commission; and to use it to shelter M. Fromentwere a thing M. Froment would not do himself. That is all."
He shrugged his shoulders, and magnanimously kept silence. But she wasfurious. "Quixote!" she cried. "Oh, you are intolerable! But you shallsuffer for it. _Eh, bien_, Monsieur, you shall suffer for it!" sherepeated vehemently.
"Nay, Madame, you need not threaten," I retorted.
"For if I would, I could not. You forget that M. de Geol is no morethan a league behind us, and bound for Nimes; he may appear at anymoment. At best he is sure to lodge where we do to-night. If hefinds," I continued drily, "that I have added a brother to my growingfamily, I do not think that he will take it lightly."
But this, though she must have seen the sense of it, had no effectupon her. "Oh, you are intolerable!" she cried again. "Let me out! Letme out, Monsieur."
This last to Froment. I did not gainsay her, and he let her out, andthe two walked a few paces away, talking rapidly.
I followed them with my eyes; and seeing him now, detached, as itwere, and solitary in that dreary landscape--a man alone and indanger--I began to feel some compunction. A moment more, and I mighthave repented; but a touch fell on my sleeve, and I turned with astart to find Denise leaning towards me, with her face rapt and eager.
"Monsieur," she whispered eagerly; before she could say more I seizedthe hand with which she had touched me, and kissed it fiercely.
"No, Monsieur, no," she whispered, drawing it from me with her facegrown crimson--but her eyes still met mine frankly. "Not now. I wantto speak to you, to warn you, to ask you----"
"And I, Mademoiselle," I cried in the same low tone, "want to blessyou, to thank you----"
"I want to ask you to take care of yourself," she persisted, shakingher head almost petulantly at me, to silence me. "Listen! Some trapwill be laid for you. My mother would not harm you, though she isangry; but that man is desperate, and we are in straits. Be careful,therefore, Monsieur, and----"
"Have no fear," I said.
"Ah, but I have fear," she answered.
And the way in which she said that, and the way in which she looked atme, and looked away again like a startled bird, filled me withhappiness--with intense happiness; so that, though Madame came back atthat moment, and no more passed between us, not even a look, but wehad to sink back in our seats, and affect indifference, I was adifferent man for it. Perhaps something of this appeared in my face,for Madame, as she came up to the door, shot a suspicious glance atme, a glance almost of hatred; and from me looked keenly at herdaughter. However, nothing was said except by Froment, who came up tothe door and closed it, after she had entered. He raised his hat tome.
"M. le Vicomte," he said, with a little bitterness, "if a dog came tomy door, as I came to you to-day, I would take him in!"
"You would do as I have done," I said.
"No," he said firmly; "I would take him in. Nevertheless, when we meetat Nimes, I hope to convert you."
"To what?" I said coldly.
"To having a little faith," he answered, with dryness. "To having alittle faith in something--and risking somewhat for it, Monsieur. Istand here," he went on, with a gesture that was not without grandeur,"alone and homeless, to-day; I do not know where I shall lie to-night.And why, M. le Vicomte? Because I alone in France have faith! BecauseI alone believe in anything! Because I alone believe even in myself!Do you think," he continued with rising scorn, "that if you noblesbelieved in your nobility, you could be unseated? Never! Or that ifyou, who say 'Long live the King!' believed in your King, he could beunseated? Never! Or that if you who profess to obey the Churchbelieved in her, she could be uprooted? Never! But you believe innothing, you admire nothing, you reverence nothing--and therefore youare doomed! Yes, doomed; for even the men with whom you have linkedyourself have a sort of bastard faith in their theories, theirphilosophy, their reforms, that are to regenerate the world. Butyou--you believe in nothing; and you shall pass, as you pass from menow!"
He waved his hand with a gesture of menace, and before I could answer,the carriage rolled on, and left him standing there; the greylandscape, cold and barren, took the place of his face at the door.The light was beginning to fail; we were still a league fromVilleraugues. I was glad to feel the carriage moving, and to be freefrom him; my heart, too, was warm because Denise sat opposite me,and I loved her. But for all that--and though Madame, glowering at mefrom her corner, troubled me little--the thought that I had desertedhim--that, and his words, and one word in particular, hummed in myhead, and oppressed me with a sense of coming ill. "Doomed! Doomed!"He had said it as if he meant it. I could no longer question hiseloquence. I could no longer be ignorant why they called him thefirebrand of Nimes. The hot breath of the southern city had come fromhim; the passion of world-old strifes had spoken in his voice.Uneasily I pondered over what he had said, and recalled the wordsspoken by Father Benoit, even by Geol, to the same effect; and sobrooded in my corner, while the carriage jolted on and darkness fell,until presently we stopped in the village street.
I offered Madame St. Alais my arm to descend. "No, Monsieur," shesaid, repelling me with passion; "I will not touch you."
She meant, I think, to seclude herself and Mademoiselle, and leave meto sup alone. But in the inn there was only one great room forparlour, and kitchen, and all; and a little cupboard, veiled by adingy curtain, in which the women might sleep if they pleased, but inwhich they could not possibly eat. The inn was, in fact, the worst inwhich I had stopped--the maid draggled and dirty, and smelling of thestable; the company three boors; the floor of earth; the windowsunglazed. Madame, accustomed to travel, and supported by her anger,took all with the ease of a fine lady; but Denise, fresh from herconvent, winced at the brawling and oaths that rose round her, andcowered, pale and frightened, on her stool.
A hundred times I was on the point of interfering to protect her fromthese outrages; but her eyes, when they made me happy by timidlyseeking mine for an instant, seemed to pray me to abstain; and themen, as their senseless tirades showed, were delegates from Castres,who at a word would have raised the cry of "Aristocrats!" I refrained,therefore, and doubtless with wisdom; but even the arrival of Geolwould have been a welcome interruption.
I have said that Madame heeded them little; but it presently appearedthat I was mistaken. After we had supped, and when the noise was atits height, she came to me, where I sat a little apart, and, throwinginto her tone all the anger and disgust which her face so well masked,she cried in my ear that we must start at daybreak.
"At daybreak--or before!" she whispered fiercely. "This is horrible!horrible!" she continued. "This place is killing me! I would startnow, cold and dark as it is, if----"
"I will speak to them," I said, taking a step towards the table.
She clutched my sleeve, and pinched me until I winced. "Fool!" shesaid. "Would you ruin us all? A word, and we are betrayed. No; but atdaybreak we go. We shall not sleep; and the moment it is light we go!"
I consented, of course; and, going to the driver, who had taken ourplace at the table, she whispered him also, and then came back to me,and bade me call him if he did not rise. This settled, she wenttowards the closet, whither Mademoiselle had already retired; butunfortunately her movements had drawn on her the attention of theclowns at the table, and one of these, rising suddenly
as she passed,intercepted her.
"A toast, Madame! a toast!" he cried, with a gross hiccough; andreeling on his feet, he thrust a cup of wine in front of her. "Atoast; and one that every man, woman, and child in France must drink,or be d----d! And that is the Tricolour! The Tricolour; and down withMadame Veto! The Tricolour, Madame! Drink to it!"
The drunken wretch pressed the cup on her, while his comrades roared,"Drink! Drink! The Tricolour; and down with Madame Veto!" and addedjests and oaths I will not write.
This was too much; I sprang to my feet to chastise the wretches. ButMadame, who preserved her presence of mind to a marvel, checked me bya glance. "No," she said, raising her head proudly; "I will notdrink!"
"Ah!" he cried with a vile laugh. "An aristocrat, are we? Drink,nevertheless, or we shall show you----"
"I will not drink!" she retorted, facing him with superb courage. "Andmore, when M. de Geol arrives to-night, you will have to give anaccount to him."
The man's face fell. "You know the Baron de Geol?" he said in adifferent tone.
"I left him at the last village, and I expect him here to-night," sheanswered coolly. "And I would advise you, Monsieur, to drink your owntoasts, and let others go! For he is not a man to brook an insult!"
The brawler shrugged his shoulders, to hide his mortification. "Oh! ifyou are a friend of his," he muttered, preparing to slink back to thetable, "I suppose it is all right. He is a good man. No offence. Ifyou are not an aristocrat----"
"I am no more of an aristocrat than is M. de Geol," she answered. And,with a cold bow, she turned, and went to the closet.
The men were a little less noisy after that; for Madame had rightlyguessed that Geol's name was known and respected. They presentlywrapped themselves in their cloaks, and lay down on the floor; and Idid the same, passing the night, in the result, in greater comfortthan I expected.
At first, it is true, I did not sleep; but later I fell into an uneasyslumber, and, passing from one troubled dream to another--for which Ihad, doubtless, to thank the foul air of the room--I awoke at lastwith a start, to find some one leaning over me. Apparently it wasstill night, for all was quiet; but the red embers of the fire glowedon the hearth, and dimly lit up the room, enabling me to see that itwas Madame St. Alais who had roused me. She pointed to the other men,who still lay snoring.
"Hush!" she whispered, with her finger on her lip. "It is after five.Jules is harnessing the horses. I have paid the woman here, and infive minutes we shall be ready."
"But the sun will not rise for another hour," I answered. This wasearly starting with a vengeance!
Madame, however, had set her heart upon it. "Do you want to expose usto more of this?" she said, in a furious whisper. "To keep us hereuntil Geol arrives, perhaps?"
"I am ready, Madame," I said.
This satisfied her; she flitted away without any more, and disappearedbehind the curtain, and I heard whispering. I put on my boots, and,the room being very cold, stooped a moment over the fire, and drawingthe embers together with my foot, warmed myself. Then I put on mycravat and sword, which I had removed, and stood ready to start. Itseemed uselessly early; and we had started so early the day before! IfMadame wished it, however, it was my place to give way to her.
In a moment she came to me again; and I saw, even by that light, thather face was twitching with eagerness. "Oh!" she said; "will he nevercome? That man will be all day. Go and hasten him, Monsieur! If Geolcomes? Go, for pity's sake, and hasten him!"
I wondered, thinking such haste utterly vain and foolish--it was notlikely that Geol would arrive at this hour; but, concluding thatMadame's nerves had failed at last, I thought it proper to comply,and, stepping carefully over the sleepers, reached the door. I raisedthe latch, and in a moment was outside, and had closed the door behindme. The bitter dawn wind, laden with a fine snow, lashed my cheeks,and bit through my cloak, and made me shiver. In the east the daybreakwas only faintly apparent; in every other quarter it was still night,and, for all I could see, might be midnight.
Very little in charity with Madame, I picked my way, shivering, to thedoor of the stable--a mean hovel, in a line with the house, and set ina sea of mud. It was closed, but a dim yellow light, proceeding from awindow towards the farther end, showed me where Jules was at work; andI raised the latch, and called him. He did not answer, and I had to goin to him, passing behind three or four wretched nags--some on theirlegs and some lying down--until I came to our horses, which stood sideby side at the end, with the lantern hung on a hook near them.
Still I did not see Jules, and I was standing wondering where hewas--for he did not answer--when, with a whish, something black struckme in the face. It blinded me; in a moment I found myself strugglingin the folds of a cloak, that completely enveloped my face, while agrip of iron seized my arms and bound them to my sides. Takencompletely by surprise, I tried to shout, but the heavy cloakstifled me; when, struggling desperately, I succeeded in uttering ahalf-choked cry, other hands than those which held me pressed thecloak more tightly over my face. In vain I writhed and twisted, and,half-suffocated, tried to free myself. I felt hands pass deftly overme, and knew that I was being robbed. Then, as I still resisted, theman who held me from behind tripped me up, and I fell, still in hisgrasp, on my face on the ground.
Fortunately I fell on some litter; but, even so, the shock drove thebreath out of me; and what with that and the cloak, which in this newposition threatened to strangle me outright, I lay a moment helpless,while the wretches bound my hands behind me, and tied my anklestogether. Thus secured, I felt myself taken up, and carried a littleway, and flung roughly down on a soft bed--of hay, as I knew by thescent. Then some one threw a truss of hay on me, and more and morehay, until I thought that I should be stifled, and tried franticallyto shout. But the cloak was wound two or three times round my head,and, strive as I would, I could only, with all my efforts, force out adull cry, that died, smothered in its folds.