Читать книгу The Heart of Denise, and Other Tales - Levett Yeats Sidney - Страница 4

The road swept onward with gentle curves, at one time hanging to the edge of the hillside, at another walled in on either hand by rocks covered with fern and bracken, to whose jagged and broken surface-whereon purples, greens, and browns seemed to absorb themselves into each other-there clung the yellow agrimony, and climbing rose, with its sweet bloom full of restless, murmuring bees.

Sometimes the path lost itself in some cool arcade of trees, where the sunlight fell in oblique golden shafts through the leaves that interlaced overhead, and then suddenly, without warning, we would come to a level stretch on which the marguerites lay thick as snowflakes, and across which the wind bustled riotously.

As we cantered along side by side, my companion again broke forth into a joyous song, that sprang full-throated and clear, from a heart that never seemed to have known a moment of pain. His was a lithe, leopard-like strength, and as I looked at him, my thoughts ran back to the time when we first met, on his return from the Venetian Embassy, whither he had gone when M. de Bruslart made a mess of things. I do not know why it was, but he singled me out for his particular notice; and though it was openly known that he was betrothed to the second daughter of M. D'Ayen, I, like a fool, was flattered by the attentions of this gay and brilliant cavalier, and day by day we were thrown together more and more, and a sort of confidence was established between us that was almost more than friendship. There was, as I have said, that in his masterful way, that had the effect of leaving me powerless; and though he could put all its light in his eyes, and all its tones in his voice, I felt instinctively that he did not love me, but was merely playing with me to exercise his strength, and dragging me towards him with a resistless force. In short, the influence of de Clermont on me was never for my good, and our intercourse always left me with the conviction that I had sunk a little lower than before; and it was at times like these, when I met de Lorgnac's grave eyes, that I felt the unspoken reproach in their glance, and would struggle to rise again, and then, in the consciousness of my own folly, I felt I fairly hated him for seeing my weakness. What right had de Lorgnac even to think of me? What did it matter to him what I did or said? So I used to argue with myself; yet in my heart of hearts, I felt that my standard of right and wrong, was being measured by what I imagined a man, to whom I had hardly ever spoken, might think.

When I make this confession, and say that the influence of de Clermont over me was never for my good, I do not mean to imply that I was guilty of anything more than foolishness; but the effect of it was to sap my high ideas, and I now know that this man, aided by his surroundings-and they were all to his advantage-took the pleasure of a devil in lowering my moral nature, and in moulding me to become "of the world," as he would put it. God be thanked that the world is not as he would have made it. At that time, however, I was dazzled-all but overpowered by him, and day by day my struggles were growing weaker, like those of some poor fly caught in a pitiless web. The knowledge of all this was to come to me later, when, by God's help, I escaped; but then I was blind, and foolish, and mad.

My companion's song was interrupted by Lalande, who came galloping back in hot haste, and in no good temper, to say that the whole party had halted to wait for me; and quickening our pace we hurried onward, and found them about a mile further on. To say that Madame de Termes was surprised at seeing de Clermont is to say little, and I could see, too, that she was not very well pleased; but he spoke to her so fairly and gracefully that, in spite of herself, she thawed; and half an hour later he was riding at her bridle hand, bringing smiles that had long been absent to her face. He was overjoyed to hear of the Vicomte's recovery, and said many flattering things about him, for he knew him well, having served under him in the campaign of Languedoc, and then he went on to become more communicative about himself, saying that he was the bearer of a despatch to the King of Navarre, adding, with a laugh, "a duplicate, you know-the original being carried by M. Norreys, the English freelance. Ma foi! But I should not be surprised if I reached the Bearnnois before the sluggish islander."

"Hardly, if you loiter here, Monsieur le Marquis," I said.

"You must bear the blame for that, Madame; but I will add that my orders are to pass through Périgueux as well, and so, Madame," and he turned to my friend, "if you will permit Raoul de Clermont to be your escort there, he will look upon it as the most sacred trust of his life."

He bowed to his saddle-bow, and looked so winning and handsome that Madame replied most graciously in the affirmative. A little beyond La Jonchère something very like an adventure befell us-the first on this hitherto uneventful journey. At the cross road leading to Bourganeuf, we met with a party of six or eight men, who did not require a second glance to make us see that they were capable of any mischief. They had halted to bait their horses, and, flung about in picturesque attitudes, were resting under the trees-as ill-looking a set of fellows as the pleasant shade of the planes had ever fallen upon. Had they known beforehand that we were travelling this way, they would very probably have arranged an attack on us; but as it was we came upon them rather suddenly, and as our party-which had been added to by de Clermont's two lackeys-was somewhat too strong to assault openly, without the risk of broken heads and hard knocks-things which gentry of this kind do not much affect-they let us alone, contenting themselves with gathering into a group to watch us as we went by; and this we did slowly, our men with their arms ready. As we approached, however, and saw their truculent faces, I had doubts as to whether we should pass them without bloodshed, and begged de Clermont in a low voice to prevent any such thing. He had drawn a light rapier that he wore, but as I spoke he put it back with a snap, and holding out his hand, asked for the loan of my riding-whip-a little delicate, agate-handled thing.

"It will be enough," he said as I gave it to him, and he began to swing it backwards and forwards, as if using it to flick off flies from his horse. To my joy they made no attempt to molest us, though at one time a quarrel hung on a cobweb. For as we passed, the leader of the troop, a big burly man, with a very long sword trailing at his side, and a face as red as the constant dipping of his nose into a wine cup could make it, advanced a step into the wood, and, wishing us the day, tried deliberately to get a better look at me, with an unspeakable expression in his eyes. I saw de Clermont's face grow cold and hard, he quietly put his horse between me and the man, and checking it slightly, stretched out the whip, and touched a not very clean white scarf the creature wore over his shoulder, saying:

"You are a trifle too near Limoges to wear this, my man-take my advice and fling it away."

"That is my affair," answered the man insolently.

"Precisely, Captain la Coquille. I spoke but for your good. Ah! take care!" and de Clermont's horse, no doubt secretly touched by the spur, lashed out suddenly, causing the man to spring back with an oath and an exclamation of:

"You know me! Who the devil are you?"

To this, however, de Clermont made no answer, but as we passed on he returned my whip to me, saying, "I am glad I did not have to use it. It would have deprived you of a pretty toy had I done so."

"Thank you. Who is that horrible man? You called him by name."

"Yes, la Coquille. I know him by sight, though he does not know me. He was very near being crucified once, and escaped but by a fluke. He is robber, thief, and perhaps a murderer, and-"

"And what!"

De Clermont reached forward and brushed off an imaginary fly from his horse's ears.

"And has something of a history. I believe he was a gentleman once, and then went under-found his way to the galleys. After that he was anything, and perhaps I ought not to tell you, but in time he became de Lorgnac's sergeant-his confidential man-and it was only his master's influence that saved him from a well-deserved death. It was foolish of de Lorgnac, for the man knew too many of his secrets, and was getting dangerous. I hope I have not pained you," he added gently.

"Not in the least," I replied, and rode on looking straight before me. So this vile criminal was once my husband's confidential servant, was perhaps still connected with him in his dark designs. And then I said a bitter thing, "Like master, like man. Is not that the adage, monsieur?" But as the words escaped me, I felt a keen regret.

"God help you, Denise," I heard de Clermont murmur as if to himself, and then he turned abruptly from me, and joined Madame de Termes, leaving me with a beating heart, for his words had come to me with a sense of undying, hopeless love in them, and he was so brave, he seemed so true, and looked so handsome, that my heart went out in pity for him. How the mind can move! In a moment there rose before me thoughts of a life far different from the one to which I was doomed, and with them came the grim spectres of the vows that bound me forever, and which I would have to keep. God help me! Yes, I needed help-de Clermont was right.

We passed on, leaving the gang still under the plane-trees, and soon came in view of Ambazac, lying amidst its setting of waving cornfields. Here for a little time we suddenly missed de Clermont and one of his lackeys, and both Madame and I were much concerned, for the same thought struck us both, that he had lagged behind and then gone off hot-foot to punish la Coquille. We were about to turn after him when he came in sight, followed by his man, and caught us up, riding with a free rein. He perhaps saw the inquiry in my look, for he said softly to me, "I went back to pick up a souvenir I had dropped," and his eye fell on the lapel of his coat where my rose was, a little, however, the worse for wear. After that he did not speak to me, but kept by Madame and devoted himself to her with a delicacy for which I was grateful, for I felt I wanted all my thoughts for myself. At Ambazac, which we reached in a little, we found good accommodation at a large inn, although the town was full, it being the fête of St. Etienne de Muret; and after taking some light refreshment Madame and I retired to our apartments, to rest until the supper hour, for we were wearied. We supped in the common hall, but at a small table a little apart from the others, and de Clermont, who sat next to me, gave Madame an interesting account of the defence of Ambazac, made by her husband against the Prince of Condé. It was whilst he was detailing the incidents of this adventure that, with a great clattering and much loud talking, la Coquille and his men entered the dining-room, and began to shout for food and drink. Most of the people in the inn being common country folk and unarmed, made way for the crew with haste, and even an expression of alarm appeared on Lalande's face, for our own servants were but six in number, including the baggage drivers, and Madame's maid and my own, who, of course, were useless, and two of our men-servants were at the moment attending to the horses; so that we were at a decided disadvantage, and la Coquille was not slow to perceive this.

"Dame," he exclaimed, looking towards us, "here is my popinjay and his sugar-plum. Look you, my good fellow, join those boys there, whilst I bask in beauty's smiles."

His men crowded round our servants with rough joking, and he, picking up a stool, placed it at our table, and held out an immense greasy paw to me.

"Shake hands, ma mignonne! Never mind the old lady and the silk mercer. There is no lover like a brave soldier."

Madame was white with anger. I had sprung to my feet, meditating flight, and the villain's followers raised a hoarse shout, "Courage, captain! None but the brave deserve the fair."

Then de Clermont's hand was on the man's neck, and with a swing of his arm he sent him staggering back almost across the room. He recovered himself on the instant, however, for he was a powerful man, and rushed forward; but stopped when he saw de Clermont's rapier in his hand, and began to tug at his fathom of a sword. His men, however, offered no assistance to him, contenting themselves with breaking into loud laughter. As for de Clermont, he was as cool and self-possessed as if he were at a Court function.

"Out of this," he said. "Begone-else I shall have you flogged and you shall taste the carcan. Be off."

"The carcan! You silkworm, you cream-faced dancing-master!" yelled the man, who had now drawn his sword. "Who the devil are you to threaten me-la Coquille-with the carcan? Blood of a Jew! Who are you?"

"The Marquis de Clermont-Ferrand," was the answer, "and these ladies are of the household of M. de Termes, and now I will give you and your men two minutes to go. If not I shall have them stoned out of the place; and you-you know what to expect. If you are wise you will put a hundred leagues between yourself and Périgord after this; and now be off-fool."

The man dropped his sword into its sheath and stammered out, "Your pardon, monseigneur! I did not know. Come, boys," he said with an affectation of unconcern, "these ladies complain that the place is too crowded; we will go elsewhere. At your service, mesdames," and making a bow that had a sort of faded grace about it, he swaggered off followed by his men, who took his lead with surprising alacrity. The people in the inn and our servants raised a cheer, and were for going after them, doubtless to administer the stoning; but de Clermont put a stop to this, saying in a peremptory tone, "Let them go; I will see that they are dealt with."

As may be imagined we were in no mood for much supper after this. My knees felt very weak under me, and Madame de Termes was trembling all over; but she thanked de Clermont very gracefully, and he made some modest answer with his eyes fixed on me, and I-I could say nothing. We would have retired at once, but de Clermont pressed us to stay, and Madame, with a little smile, agreed, saying, "I am afraid even after all these years I am not quite a soldier's wife." So we lingered yet a little longer and found our nerves come back to us. After that we sat in the garden where the moonlight was full and bright, and the breeze brought us the scent of the roses. Then de Clermont bringing out his lute sang to us. He had a voice such as neither I, nor any one else I knew who had listened to it, had ever heard equalled. So, perhaps, sang his old troubadour ancestors, and the sweet notes had died with the days of chivalry to be born in Raoul de Clermont. The song he chose was one that was perchance written by one of his minstrel forbears, and described in that old tongue that we no longer use, a lover's agony at being separated forever from his mistress. The words were, perhaps, poor, but there was genuine feeling in them, and sung by de Clermont, it might have been the wail of an angel shut out from Paradise. Never did I hear the like-never would I care to hear the like again, and as the last of the glorious notes died away in a liquid stream of ineffable melody, I saw Madame's face buried in her hands, and there was a great sob behind me that came from the broad chest of Lalande, who had stolen up to hear, and was blubbering like a child. Then Madame de Termes rose, and hurried off followed by Lalande, and we were alone, I sitting still with my whole soul full of that wondrous song, and every nerve strung to its highest pitch, whilst de Clermont remained standing, his lute, slung by its silken sash, in the loop of his arm.

"Denise!" he said, "you understand, dear?"

"Yes." I could barely whisper the word; and then he bent down and kissed me softly on the forehead, and the touch of his lips seemed to burn into me like a red-hot seal. With a little cry I rose to my feet, and hardly knowing what I was doing, ran past him, never stopping until I reached my room. Here I remained as if lost in a dream, with a hundred mad thoughts dancing in my brain. I tried to pray, but my lips could only frame words, for there was nothing in my heart; and then I thought I would seek forgetfulness in sleep. But sleep would not come, and I lay awake watching the broad banner of moonlight that came in through the open window, and all the memories of the past awake within me. De Clermont's kiss still burned hotly on my face, and I shivered with the shame and the sin of it, for I was another's wife-and Heaven help me! I thought then that I loved de Clermont. Oh! the misery of those hours, when I tossed from side to side with dry, burning eyes and bitter shame in my heart. At last, as the moon was paling, I could endure it no longer, and, rising from my bed, began to pace the room. I felt that what I needed was motion, movement-I could not be still. If I could only pray! and as the thought came to me once more I heard a little clink, and stooping, picked up a small locket containing a miniature of my mother which I wore round my neck, the gold chain by which it was suspended having broken in my restless movements. I opened the locket, and standing near the window looked at the picture, and as I live it seemed to lighten so that I could see each feature, with the soft eyes bent on me in pity; and then a voice-it was her voice-said:

"Denise, pray!"

And then my eyes were blinded with tears, and flinging myself on my knees with my hands clasped on the mullions of the window I sobbed out, "God! Dear God! Have pity on me!"

I could say no more, but my whole soul went out with these words and I knelt there, still and motionless, with the sense of a great peace falling upon me. Then it was as if the very heavens grew bright as day, and the light filled my room so that my eyes were dazzled and I could not see. And I covered my face with my hands to shield my eyes from the splendour.

When I looked up again the glory was gone, but my soul was at rest. I stood at the window and let the cool breeze fan me, whilst I peered out into the darkness, for the moon had sunk and it was now the black hour that touches the dawn. As I watched I heard the bells of St. Etienne calling the Lauds across the grave of the night, and I knew that in two hours it would be daylight, and felt that the Unseen God had heard my prayer.